#invisible ghosts

[theoldtaylors]

i dont feel like a person.

[frankiethedarkangel]

You recently moved into a home that is notorious for being haunted.

Being the skeptic you are, you took the chance with it. You could handle a few bumps in the night, maybe even at the worst, a little poltergeist activity.

After spending the day unpacking you decided to explore the attic. There were a few boxes that needed to go into storage for the holidays. Grabbing your phone to use as a flashlight, you head to the hallway to pull down the ladder to the attic.

It was as you expected. A dusty and over heated space at the top of the house. As soon as you turn your flashlight on you feel as if someone poked your side.

Your flashlight relieved a something in the back of the attic covered by a white, dusty, cobweb ridden sheet. So typical. Making your way to see what it is, you feel like someone’s touching you again.

This time it’s bolder than feel as if there was someone poking your side. Something touched your ass. Trying to ignore it, but definitely feeling weirded out, you make a logical explanation for it. Just a muscle spasm you told yourself.

That was until you actually reached the cloth covered objects. Pulling the sheet off, you see there’s a painting of a man. Must be one of the previous owners.

Before you could even move something pushed you against the wall hard. Letting out a scream you try to fight off whoever it was. But there was nobody there.

Feeling something touch you again. Almost as if someone is running their fingers up your legs. You decide to call out.

“Who’s there?”

As expected nobody answers, but it takes you by the hips and pushes you against the wall again. By now you’ve pieced together it’s the ghost you heard about. Well, the poltergeist.

“It’s you isn’t it?”

Looking at the painting as you ask. Almost as if it’s giving you an answer, your pants are pulled off and you feel a finger rubbing your wetting slit.

Rubbing circles on your clit with what feels like it’s thub. Slowly pushing a finger into your pussy. It feels so wrong, but it feels so good.

After the mystery of a person fingers you, you feel a while body pin you to the wall. Holding your hips tight. Slowly what feels like a hard dick is pushing into your now soaked pussy. Using you make itself reach an orgasm.

You feel the ghost cock twitch inside you. As if it was a warning, it cums inside of you. It pulls out and just, disappears. Getting yourself dressed you feel the ghost’s cum leaking out of you.

“It’s green? Green goo?”

Monster Masterlist

[puppetmaster13u]

Another Ghost Dragon Prompt? Indeed.

The Ward had made a mistake. Had stolen something that had caused the very Skies to lash out, entire worlds at risk from their actions.

Time Itself shrieked in rage at the loss of Its child, or at least that's how every magic user- and the speedsters, pale and shaken and looking sick- had described it.

Someone had taken the young prince of the Infinite, and it was not the Tyrant King, long since sealed away, that lead the charge, but the Queen Regent that many had long since forgotten.

Many forgot that it was not the Dark who courted Time, but Time who courted the Dark. That It was just, if not more so, merciless as Its partner, and would Devour worlds should Its child- still with newdeath soft scales- was not returned.

Which meant that for the heroes, there was now a Clock ticking down ever so quietly. They had to take care of what was a government branch, had to deal with consequences of going over the law, or their World would End in dragon fire.

[swordsandholly]

I like to imagine Ghost with lashes and brows that are so blonde they’re near translucent. His hair has darkened into that dirty, “dishwater” blonde that’s inevitable with age but his brows and lashes remain practically platinum. The hair he doesn’t care about much, he keeps it shorn most of the time anyway.

He doesn’t like the other stuff, though - thinks it makes him look weird, especially with his dark eyes contrasting against them. It adds to the Ghost persona, though, he supposes. A big, pale specter with eyes like voids looking out from behind a skull.

I also like to imagine that Soap is obsessed with them - with catching them in the right light, with the way those big, brown eyes look up at him through them. He’ll trace his thumbs over Ghost’s brows almost reverently and kiss his eyelids as if worshiping a saint.

[kizzer55555]

Core Gems

So when a ghost becomes injured, they have a last ditch defense where they retreat into their core. And I mean, injured badly where their body is rip apart to the point they can’t hold a solid form anymore. And they basically go into a hibernation state until they are strong enough to form again.

Ellie, Danny, and Dan are all injured in a final battle against the GIW. The organization was destroyed and the ghosts were safe but the halfas ended up being so injured that they reverted to core form and then went to sleep for a bit. When they woke up, they were still weak but at least recovered enough to gain consciousness. And realize…they are in some kind of auction…in the middle of a heist. It appeared that two furries (one in a bat costume and one in a cat costume) were ducking it out. And they…they were a necklace. All three of them had been turned into a necklace with their cores as gems accompanied by sapphires, pearls, and opals. And frankly gorgeous craftsmanship as the metal was crafted around their cores as if to cradle them and the other gems.

Unfortunately, they were too weak to take a form properly, they could still feel the strain on their bodies. But at least they could still communicate through their auras. Then the cat lady punched a hole in the glass container surrounding them and grabbed their necklace.

However, the bat grabbed the other end and it resulted in a sort of tug-a-war. Meanwhile, Danny, Ellie, and Dan were having a back and form commentary on the situation and what they should do. Completely unheard by the other party.

In the corner of their eye, the three halfas finally noticed a third contender. Some kind of clown who was…hold on…holding a gun?! And it was pointed straight at the two fighting furies who had yet to notice him. The ghosts’ protective instincts went into overdrive and they frantically tried to shout, yell, move. Just do something to warn the two but their cries fell on deaf ears. All they succeeded in doing was faintly glow which immediatly caught the attention of the fighting duo. The two turned to look at the strange necklace but right at that moment, the clown fired and a gunshot rang throughout the auction room. Having no other options, Danny and the others poured every ounce of ectoplasm they had to try and phaseshift, making the two furries intangible as the bullets passed right through them, but in their shock, the two jumped away in opposite directions and accidentally ripped the necklace apart. Gems and pearls went flying and the three cores bounced along the ground.

Luckily, the two finally noticed the clown and went to deal with him and his minions who had appeared. Seemingly putting their fight on hold and forming a temporary truce. The three halfas could only watch as the battle finally wound down, ending with the cops barging into the place and arresting the clown and his grunts, the cat managing to escape with half the scattered gems and pearls from the broken necklace along with a few other jewelry pieces (none of their cores though) and the bat leaving through a skylight.

The auction continued and in the end, despite being broken, their necklace seemed to have caught someone’s interest. A man named Bruce Wayne bought up every piece of the shattered jewelry wear. The auctioneers appeared relived that the item managed to sell in the end and gratefully gave it to him.

Bruce had no idea what happened at the auction, but he could have sworn that some of the gems faintly glowed right before he and Selina were shot. If the necklace was some sort of magical item, then he needed to understand exactly what has been brought to Gotham. It was unfortunate that Selena had taken some parts of the necklace but he utilized his vast wealth to make sure all the other parts ended in his possession. Now he would take them back to the mansion for examination.

[naryrising]

So you like imaginary fandoms...

With the recent success of Goncharov, I thought I'd make a post to mention some of the previous times this has happened in fandom, and a brief explanation and some links on how you can find works for them. I don't claim that this is a comprehensive list, it's just ones that came to me off the top of my head based on several decades of fandom involvement.

Ghost Soup Infidel Blue. Originates from the annual Yuletide exchange, specifically a post by liviapenn in 2007 that used it as a default fandom to help explain how to write 'dear author' letters. The relevant quote (meant to illustrate the kind of letter that would be too specific) was "'Bad: "I would like a Ghost Soup story where Luke makes out with Angela's clone and Angela gets mad and seduces Moira just to make Luke mad, and then Ryan and Luke duel to the death with their lightsabers and it ends up in an Angela/Angela's clone/Moira threesome. And Ryan feels really bad and flies off to Mars forever."" Consensus is that it is a sprawling space opera anime series, something like Gundam or Macross, with many sub-parts and spin-offs. Part of the dynamic of Ghost Soup 'fandom' is people arguing in the notes and comments about the continuity or quality of these various spinoffs (e.g. Purple is reputed to be bad, but some people will staunchly defend it just to be contrary.) Deliberate wank and badfic is part of the humour. You can read the Fanlore post about Ghost Soup here and find works for it and its related fandoms here

Winterblumensaat. Again, this comes out of Yuletide, specifically a nomination in 2021 for what was strongly suspected to be a nonexistent German book. The nominator's sister found it in a flea market! It very definitely was real! They couldn't provide any evidence or a photo of the book, but they promise it was definitely a real book! Despite being rejected from Yuletide nominations as not having any basis in reality, it has nevertheless had some fics written for it. The AO3 tag is merged into Original Work, so you can find them by searching in Original Work for Winterblumensaat (results here). It seems to be a moody, dark mid-century European novel, with characters named Florientina, Mailia, Schnail, and Markus. A related non-existent fandom with the same origin story is Nur die Sonne - Maria Moßer, but this has only attracted one work so far (a crossover with Winterblumensaat).

Cordelia (Movie Poster). In 2020 a movie poster for the movie Cordelia came out that inspired fandom in ways probably not intended by the movie's creators. While the actual movie Cordelia is a contemporary horror/thriller, the poster gave people the impression that it might be about Victorian femdom with pegging. Needless to say, they were disappointed by whatever was in the actual film, and made up fic based on what they thought the poster was about instead. Currently ALL works in the Cordelia (2020) tag on AO3 are actually about the poster and not the movie.

Invisible Ficathon. In 2014 an exchange called Invisible Ficathon ran, which was based around "stories that never were". Nominated "canons" had to be nonexistent fictional works referenced in another work. Examples given included "The Casebook of Sherlock Holmes - Joan Watson" (from Elementary), "The Itchy and Scratchy Show" (from The Simpsons), the books in Lucien's library in The Sandman that only exist in dreams, and so on. The collections on AO3 contain 71 works for nonexistent fandoms. Alas that this exchange only ran once, because it was a fun concept. I think with the renewed interest in Goncharov, it would be ripe for revival.

[starry-bi-sky]

"What about this one?" Bruce taps gently against the side of Danny's throat with his finger, a small, blacklight flashlight clutched in his other hand. Danny raises his hand and feels where he's tapping, and tries to remember which fight that's from.

After a few seconds, he finds the memory. "Some guy from revolutionary France," he says idly, quiet; somber, "had a very good aim, but not a very sharp axe."

The memory feels more vivid now than it did a few moments ago. He remembers digging the axe out himself, just in time to dodge the ghost lunging at him. His arms had trembled. He yanked it out like a splinter.

He sees Bruce's frown deepen from the corner of his eye, the space between his brows pinching together, and Danny purposely averts his gaze. He swallows dryly, it feels phantom sore. "Anymore questions?"

[atomic-raunch]

Patti Chandler promo for The Ghost in the Invisible Bikini

[osiris-iii-bc]

Is there a hero out there who built a shrine for Terzo next to Sister's that received more homages than hers? 😂

[theoldtaylors]

my childhood friend died 1 year and 2 days ago

[radiance1]

Something inspired by this post and this song.

Danny blinked as everything around him seemed to pause. Mist escaping past his lips and he looked at the still branch outside of the window.

Hands rested over his shoulders. "My dearest child." Clockwork's spoke from behind him, and Danny stilled. "Won't you join? We can get you out this little predicament binding you by human law."

"No." Danny huffed, resolutely staring out of the window. "I don't want to. You made me try so hard to avoid my bad future, and now you just want me to do something like that?"

"My dear boy," Clockwork flew in front of him, cupping Danny's face in gentle hands. "Your alternate future destroyed this world and as such, the Observants wanted you dead. It would have been unfair for you to be killed for a mere possible future."

Danny scoffed. "You only interfered because you saw a future with me with at your side." Danny scowled, wanting to pull back from Clockwork's hands but found that he couldn't. He scowled a bit more at his body's betrayal, sinking into the touch instead of pulling away.

"I will not lie to you, I had indeed interfered because of such." Clockwork slowly rubbed comforting circles on the boy's cheeks. "But also because you are my child, even if you were then, you would have been eventually. It is a parent's duty to protect their child, is it not?"

Danny wanted to refute that. But the memories of his parent's death at the hands of the GIW for him caused the words to be stuck in his throat. The images of both their and his sister and friend's bodies caused his vision to blur.

He choked down the tears.

"My poor child," Clockwork rested his forehead against Danny's own, a comforting gesture. "To have faced such cruelty at human hands, and for your own human donor to deny you your grief." Clockwork smiled. "Just let us help you, come to our side and we shall make it all go away."

Danny stayed silent for a moment, a small part of himself feeling guilty over wanting Clockwork's touch but a larger part wanting it anyway. "No." Danny breathed out harshly. "They don't deserve to die just because of that."

They don't.

If he says it enough, it'll stay true.

No matter what happens.

Clockwork leaned back, hands falling from his face and Danny had to force himself not to follow the touch as Clockwork circled behind him.

"I am willing to ask as many times as it takes, for you will join us eventually." Danny hated the certainty in the ghost's tone, but couldn't help but push his head into the hand that patted his head. "A piece of advice, however. War is not as patient as I am."

And with those parting words, Clockwork disappeared. Time resuming at once with Danny still sat on his bed. He flopped onto his back, head hitting the pillows as he turned on his side. He stared at his hands silently, before turning one palm up as ice danced up from his palm, slowly taking shape into lifelike versions of his family.

Alive and happy.

A small smile grew on his face he watched. Fighting against living food that Danny had once disliked.

What he wouldn't give to have it all back.

A knock broke him from his starring, and the ice collapsed in his hand.

"Master Danny?" Alfred's voice came from the other side of the door, causing Danny to frown. "Would you be joining us for lunch?"

Danny wanted to say no. He didn't want to interact with anyone in this stupid family.

Danny hated how he couldn't say no without one of them making it into some kind of problem.

So what if he hasn't eaten in a few days? He would live.

Danny sighed, standing up from his bed and silently staring at the door before he got up. He stared at the bracelet on his wrist for a moment as he grabbed onto the doorknob, the one that limited his power extremely, and opened the door.

He stared up at the pleasantly surprised expression on the butler's face, before looking away as he started to lead him towards the kitchen.

[sector38]

From Sector: 38

Entry: II

After my last "encounter," my mind was made – I couldn't just sit at the edge of the sector staring out at the abyss – a hunger had made itself a home inside of me, nested under my bosom and in between my ribcage. For what it was worth, I could now say I was the proud owner of a brand new sector pass (actually in date this time), meaning I could also now apply for a real job. Before, it felt like I was wading through murky waters devoid of a lighthouse: without any sense of direction or purpose, but now I knew where I was going, who I was to be, and what I was to become – a xenologist.

It wasn't the easiest job. When I told my friends, they outright laughed. Sure, the world wasn't what it used to be – fancy bits of laminated paper were all lost to the flood – but that didn't mean that anyone could just walk in with zero qualifications, no questions asked. This was especially so for jobs that didn't exist pre-flood (including but not limited to, you guessed it, xenology). Before, if the job existed, maybe I would have gone to some elite university and collected my certificate that, for some reason, was meant to equate four years of my life, with a smile – now, we had the circuits.

On the bright side, it was a shorter process, 6-12 months if you survived that long and shorter if you didn't. I didn't know the process that well (sue me), but I knew that I would be starting at the outer tier, maintenance (glorified clean-up crew) and working my way in, each stage more deadly than the last until finally I reached the core, or as its more commonly known, "The Arena." I could never just choose the easy path.

I knew I should have been nervous, but... I just wasn't. I guess after the encounter, it was hard to feel like I hadn't been given some top-secret information that put me ahead. I hadn't really had the time to think about it, or I did, but there wasn't really much to say or do. It wasn't like I could tell anyone – I don't know what would have been worse: them not believing me or their faces of disgust.

When all countries were dissolved, you'd have liked to think everyone would lose their patriotism (you know, considering there were no more countries to worthlessly devote themselves to) – wrong. The world became one big country, one metaphorical empire ruled by the human race. This meant anyone or anything not of the human race or not subservient to the human race (like my neighbour, Julie's pet squid) was technically considered an enemy of the state.

Wait, did I fuck a public enemy?

First-day jitters were nothing in comparison to whatever I was feeling, especially considering this wasn't even my first day more like a very short tester solo shift - in all my time on sector 38 I'd never felt seasick (probably because the plates don't move) and yet here I was suddenly greatly empathetic towards the poor souls who found themselves violently ill holidaying in pacific waters. I could barely walk straight, my legs felt like jelly, and my stomach was so heavy I genuinely wondered if I'd swallowed an anchor between breakfast and lunch.

Even now, i still don't understand why i was alone during my tester shift? I get that it was just three tasks, but typically, unless you're a high-level, you're not to be left alone - always followed by a superior. Still, as i said, it wasn't even like I was going to be doing much, according to the alerts who sent me my assignments the night before my shift

. Stack the crates

. File away medical instruments

. Clean the pods on deck Xv_2

Pretty standard stuff, to be honest. If i cared half as much as i should, I'd be outraged that they gave me such menial work - but i didn't, so i wasn't. All i cared about was getting to see more of them, speak to them, and understand them, and the only way to do that was to become a xenologist.

At that point, I couldn't care less about hierarchy and ranks - i didn't understand the tangled web of beurocracy or how clearing badges worked, well not until I'd spent less than five seconds on the deck and i was promtly told

"Attention!"

The wooden crate I'd be carrying dropped to the ground with a hollow thud, the solid wood colliding with the metal flooring, making an awful cacophony. I looked up at the figure and saw a man dressed in a black suit with a white under shirt and black tie, on his black hair sat snug a white naval cap and across his chest a number of metal pins. He looked at me expectantly, i hadn't been told anyone else would be on shift as far as I knew I was supposed to meet my peers next week.

While trying to carefully stack the box in the appropriate space, I gave an awkward smile

"Hi"

Somehow, in a moment, his face grew colder, from freezing to a subzero tundra in an instant - I could tell he wanted to say more, to reprimand me, put me in place - but promtly his alarm sounded on his right wrist.

He left without a word, his face coloured with urgency.

To say I was confused would be an understatement. In the new world, the navy took on a more active role with the marines following suit to a lesser degree and the army taking the least precedence out of the three - so seeing a navy officer wasn't unheard of or even uncommon, but a lieutenant?

It just didn't make any sense, especially considering my work for today was entirely made up of menial tasks - and the look on his face as he left or even before that when I greeted him? I'm not in the navy, clearly so why what was he expecting me to do? Salute? Bowe? Kiss the ground beneath his feet?

It didn't matter, I told myself, i quite literally had one job: keep my head down and become a certified xenologist...well, aside from cleaning the pods on deck.

After stacking the last of the crates and refusing to give into my temptation of opening them, I set about trying to look for the ever elusive deck Xv_2

I mean, would it have KILLED them to give me a map or something? All the corridors looked the same - eggshell cream walls with blue strip lights - every turn, every left, every right didn't feel like it was getting me any closer, to be honest, I wasn't sure if this was some sort of time warp zone, an after effect of some eldritch creature washed up during the flood.

Wandering through the halls, I passed numerous rooms with bolted doors and bright yellow signs with bold black writing, as if they were so afraid that someone might accidentally open the securely locked doors - aside from doors armed to the teeth I passed a myriad of people, i can't really use one word to describe them:

From white coats with slicked-back hair, needle-straight posture to black suits, black ties, white collars, and broze pins to white hazmat suits and black boots.

Like some sort of machine, my brain was fixed on identifying and categorising my colleagues (colleagues). Well, that was until I heard it, tapping against the walls

It was faint at first, easily missable, but then the sounds grew louder, the rapid patter of the metal walls surrounding me like rain against the window - except there was nothing to see, no visible trace of the source of the sound just the noise, just the polyphonic array.

If this was a film, the corridors would be dimly lit with no signs of life but my own heartbeat and panting breath ringing in my ears, but this is the real world, if anything the bright neon lights and the industrious workers who I chanced upon only led to an increase in my anixety - it was as though i was going insane, as though i was being followed

"Could no one else hear that?"

The noise was atonal and offbeat - seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once, bouncing off the walls like an echo. My eyes darted around the corners of the walls as I discreetly tried to turn my head to locate the source of the sound only to be met with nothing. Whatever it was, it was quick. It was just too quick, the persistent creature darting always just out of sight.

Finally, after what felt like a literal millennia, I ran into a steal door labelled

Xv_2

I pushed both the persistent scurrying aside and the absurdly weighted door - inside a dimly lit room with large cylinders attached to the centre wall. To call it a deck seemed overly gracious, with the sizing being more akin to an office space or a large storeage room.

As i walked closer towards the cylinders, I understood why they needed to be cleaned - they were filthy, dust coating them in an opaque sheild blocking any possible view of whatever was sealed within them.

I grabbed the tissue pack I'd hastily shoved in my bra before leaving the house and stared at the cylinders - there was NO way they'd be enough. A part of me seriously thought about using my top, but the thought quickly vanished when i remembered I did actually have to leave the facility without being arrested for public indecency.

And that's when i felt it, a brush of cold air against my neck, raising my hair and sending a shiver down my spin. Instantly, I dropped my tissue pack on the small table and turned around but only to be met by nothing, empty space. I stared out at the room for a moment as though someone or something would magically appear it would probably still have only been the second strangest thing to happen to me as of last.After sufficiently staring out into an empty room I turned back around...

The tissues were gone.

I looked down at the floor, nothing. Half baked thoughts swirled around my head as i looked around the room

"I could have sworn i- did i bring them? Yes. Maybe i dropped them on a crate? No, i had them when-"

Finally, i got on my knees searching underneath the desk in hopes that somehow they'd fallen and I'd kicked them under. It was so dark I should have brought my phone or a flashlight or something, as I lent further under the desk the space narrowed which, if i was paying attention i would have known.

But, alas, i wasn't - instead, my mind was still fixed on how i needed to be more prepared in the future and how i shouldn't have a phone if i wasn't going to use it because the last time I didn't bring my phone i got-

Cold.

Cold air against my bare thighs, that feeling again. Except this time the cold felt more real? The touch more weighted less like the air and more like a person?

I stilled against the feeling, with every passing second the pressure grew till i could shape the outline: a hand.

I tried to move backwards from under the desk but promptly the feeling of another hand splayed across my waist - halting any movement. The hand across my waist kept a firm solid grip, with the cold air seeping through my clothes and onto my skin as though I were naked whilst the other fingers which previously splayed across my thigh began to move, inching ever so slowly towards my upper thigh.

Maybe it was the confusion or remnants of my first (but technically not first) day jitters. Maybe it was a cocktail of both, but I found myself slightly pushing towards the unknown force. Whatever it was must have taken that as a sign because suddenly, the fingers brushed in between my inner thighs dangerously close to my knickers.

I didn't know who or what was behind me, no-one else was in the room bar me and with only one entrance and exist it would have be impossible for anyone to come in without my knowledge - especially considering how heavy the door was.

This couldn't be a who, I thought. It must have been a what.

The thought excited me, that familiar warmth spreading in my lower stomach now juxtaposing the icy touch of the creature - I couldn't help but let out a breathy whimper. The creature must have heard because, within an instant, its cold finger pressed against my clothed entrance. The pressure was barely there, barely feelable almost imperceptible but that's what made is to so maddening - what made me push back against it despite the very firm hand on my waist.

We continued our dance: me pushing backwards, aching and desperate for any sort of relief or solid touch, and its outright reluctance to give it to me aside from the arctic hold on my mid section I could feel myself growing wetter, throbbing in a hot aching want. If i was capable of shame at that point, I would have been berating myself for wearing white panties instead of a more concealing black.

The feel of the wet material sticking to me and the mystery surrounding the strange figure was getting to be too much, I'd tried to bite my glossed lips concealing more whimpers and moans but i couldn't hold back anymore. I began to rock back harder, sounds slipping from my mouth like condensation down glass till the monster showed me mercy.

A cool finger began to push into me through my now presumably clear underwear, the sensation of wet cotton and the icy appendage dipping into me making me moan all the more - but it wasn't enough. I began to beg, pleas falling from my mouth faster than my brain could protest.

Cold and wet dragged along my cunt so abruptly I hit my head against the desk but I was too aroused to care - slowly the figure dragged its icy dripping tongue against me, lapping up my desire through my panties and adding to the wet region.

The drag was devastatingly slow, and whilst the pressure was a reprieve from my previous torture, it was nowhere near enough, tears gathered in my eyes as I begged for more. Then, I felt the being give one final lick before spreading my thighs out further and removing its hand from my waist - I was untouched.

For a brief moment, i wondered if it had left me, alone and hungry, desperate for something more - thankfully, it didn't. Instead, I felt what seemed to be a light kiss to my upper thigh before my skirt was bunched up to above my ass. The suddenness of it all made my gasp like a scandalised southern bell -as though I wasn't begging to be fucked by a stranger (who most definitely wasn't human) under a desk at my first day at work- though rapidly my gasp morphed into a whine as I felt the monster slip underneath my shaking spread out thighs so that the back of its head might rest against the floor with now both hands grasping my waist and hips.

It began to lick into me (still over my underwear) with a passion that I've never known, the glacial touch contrasting the warm friction building. I began to rock and press down onto its tongue and in response it sucked and licked and fucked into me with its tongue.

I'd asked, begged for more and I'd gotten it but I've always been greedy, always been stupid and reckless and impulsive, always been bossy even when I'm on my knees and then was absolutely no different.

"Let me fuck your mouth"

Instantly as soon as the words left my mouth I felt it moan against me the sensation only making me want it more, carefully after giving a few more playful sucks it released me - somehow even with its cold presence when it left me, the room felt so much more glacial.

I slid out from under the desk my shaking legs doing very little to help me in this endeavour, but before i could turn around to face the entity hands covered my eyes, of course this did nothing in ways of stopping me from seeing but I understood the getsture and so I closed my eyes.

Once my eyes were closed, the figure rearranged our bodies like a jigsaw piece as though it and I were one cohesive being all while I was immersed in the faint scent of sea salt and rain-soaked earth emanating from the creature - the delicate nature of the smell, alien to the steady yet all-consuming auror of the beast - like the sky before a storm. Once again, it was pressed against the ground with the back of its head to the metal flooring, and I was on top of it, this time fully able to sit with a straight posture.

It slowly guided me with my eyes still closed to its mouth with my still clothed cunt at first gently resting against its lips not wanting to move before it was ready till I felt it place both its sturdy hands on my waist and force me to rock into its mouth slightly.

I began slow, moving backwards and forwards on its cold tongue, trying to find a starting rhythm before the heat that momentarily subsided rose in full formation. Its hands were everywhere on my waist, my hips, my tummy. Like it was pushing and pulling me down and up, away, and to. Then suddenly one of its strong arms was lifting me slightly off its mouth eliciting an unexpected whine from me whilst the other moved the lace fabric to the side before gently lowering me back onto its cold wet mouth.

The feeling was foreign, invasive, intrusive, like a virus spreading through my body overtaking each nerve and blood cell before leaving me powerless to resist or even the desire to. The cold spit-soaked tongue dragged perfectly against me like waves hitting against the rocks, never missing their mark. I began to ride into its mouth, eyes rolling to the back of my head as I felt a familiar pressure build within me. I was so close to the edge, to the beginning and end of bliss. I didn’t know what the creature was or if it was even capable of feeling pleasure in the same way I did, but the desperate movements of its cold hands, one gripping my waist and the other my boobs showed me I wasn't alone in my heightened arousal.

Pleas and cries spilt from my lips, each more nonsensical and crass than the last:

"Please, please, fuck I'll be so good, fuck, your mouth its so- so perfect, you're so good for me, fuck, just like that, right there-"

Till eventually like an electrical current, the feeling washed over me - like fuzzy static interferce my whole body sparked alite. Its cold hands pressed me down harder as my body spasmed, tears welled in my eyes as I tried to move away, the pleasure building to be all too much, the overstimulation becoming extreme - but its presence remained lapping up my cum from my wet, warm, throbbing cunt.

My legs felt like jelly as it finally allowed me to stand, my lack of balance definitely not helped by my inability to see.

"Can I open my eyes... Tap me twice for yes?"

I felt a press of cold lips against my neck and then temple, sending a shiver down my spine and a small smile on my face before opening my eyes and turning around to see

Nothing.

I looked around the room confusion growing clearer on my face - thoughts regarding whether I'd made the whole scenario up in my head beginning to take root - before I felt cold hands rest against my cheek holding my head tilted slightly upwards before I felt cold lips move again against mine. The kiss was dry, soft, and sweet, still smelling of sea salt and storms and in that moment my mind was still, at peace like a total oneness with the world, with the truth whatever that may be.

Warning. Warning. Emergency alert. Code Amber. Please isolate in groups immediately. This is not a drill. Repeat. Warning. Warning. Emergency alert. Code Amber. Please isolate in groups immediately. This is not a drill.Warning. Warning. Emergency alert. Code Amber. Please isolate in groups immediately. This is not a drill. Repeat. Warning. Warning. Emergency alert. Code Amber. Please isolate in groups immediately. This is not a drill.

[ilovemesomevincentprice]

Vincent Price as The invisible man

The Invisible Man Returns (1940)

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 241

Wing au? Wing Au. With perhaps a bit of a twist. Also a hint of eldritchness perhaps. For fun! 

Ghosts have wings. Sure, they aren’t normally seen, not in the visible spectrum, but they do. Scanners pick them up, and sometimes a ghost might even reveal them, which was hypothesized to be some sort of animalistic intimidation attempt. (Something more than one Amity Parker rolled their eyes at)

Everyone had seen them at least once- the motorcycle-driving ghost’s mass of shadowy feathers, the green-haired girls matching shaggy ones, the rocker’s ones that looked like pages of music before bursting into flame. Even the box ghost’s had been spotted- feathers looking more like sheets of cardboard than anything else. 

It wasn’t until the whole kidnapped to the ghost zone that anyone saw Phantom’s, but that was another tale unto itself really. Honestly the arrival of the GIW would have maybe been seen as positive before, but the fact that many of them had looked in the mirror or gone to the doctors only to find feathers beginning to sprout on their back soured it. 

Especially as the GIW continues to prattle on and on about how all ecto-contaminated scum are less than human, less than bacteria. And well, what does that make them? Them, who have been to the realms of the dead and gods and back, touched by the swirling green energy in ways incomprehensible? Changed by that energy? 

So the people silently brush hidden feathers together, quietly rebuff the white-wearing lunatics from the city as best they can, and hope to anything listening that they can stop anyone else from disappearing. That maybe they can find the few no one noticed had been taken before it’s too late, even if they have to tear down the entire government to do it. 

[preywhore]

laying in bed with ur legs spread just in case there are any horny ghosts around

[iguessthisisanewobsession]

Jason doesn’t really remember the first time he saw Frosty, maybe it was when his mom started to take a turn for the worst or the Christmas he was first on the streets.

Frosty just been a constant in his life. He may not speak but it doesn’t mean Jason couldn’t listen.

If the winds whipped him to a building he would run.

If Frost pointed to a dumpster he would look.

And if the white haired boy looked sad when he floated around then it wasn’t like there was anyone else to give his hugs.

Jason loved Frosty. He trusted him in a way he couldn’t begin to describe.

So when Frost late one night grabbed his hand and showed him the Batmobile, he didn’t really hesitate.