#3 faces of foley

[wrestlingfaves]

Royal Rumble Marathon: 1998

The Rumble has entered 1998.

Warning, spoilers for past Rumbles.

We are now officially in the Attitude Era so expect shenanigans. I haven’t watched the Attitude Era in over a decade but I’m expecting to feel a lot of retrospective cringe.

The undercard:

We see a recap of the previous two months of Goldust’s activities. This is the era where Goldust dumped Marlena and is now accompanied by Luna Vachon. Dustin has ditched his traditional gold attire and now wears a variety of outfits. Tonight’s special is a lime green/purple-striped singlet tights, purple gloves, green and purple-striped face paint with blue hair.  Dustin is also wearing a leopard-print thong over his tights. Luna’s attire is a black/red bikini combo with a clear plastic skirt/tutu. She’s also wearing flesh-colored tights. Luna has half her face covered with the traditional Goldust colors. The other half of Luna’s face has her tattoos.

Goldust (with Luna) vs Vader. Match was fine. The ending comes when Vader (with Luna on his back) delivers a top-rope Vader bomb to Goldust. Dustin is always fun and Luna continues to be a badass. This era of Dustin was crazy but fun. You never knew what Goldust was going to wear.

Steve Austin arrives, threatens to whoop Michael Coles’ ass. The Godwinns are in search of Austin.

We have a six-man lucha libre match: Battalion, Tarantula, El Torito vs Max Mini, Mosaic, and Nova. Sunny is the special guest referee. Fun match.

Soon after this, Sunny’s life begins to spiral, leading to her dismissal from the WWF and a lifetime of self-destruction. It’s a shame as Sunny was a talented performer. Of course, the true tragedy is the man she killed due to her drunk driving.

The Nation of Domination is now in search of Steve Austin. Farooq tells Mark Henry that he has to “prove himself”.

Mike Tyson hangs out with Shane and Vince. I don’t care about Mike Tyson. I don’t care about boxing. Tyson’s rape conviction, and his abusive tendencies, do not make me excited to see him on my wrestling programs. Of course, sitting next to Vince makes Tyson look like an altar boy by comparison.

Recap of the Ken Shamrock-Nation of Domination feud. The Rock is still with the Nation at this point, Mark Henry has newly joined.

Rock promo where he advises Bill Clinton to “not lay down with dogs” (referencing Paula Jones, and yes, the Rock names her specifically) and to “cover his willy”. Remember those cringe moments I said we’d encounter in the Attitude Era. Calling the woman suing a man for sexual harassment, even a President, a “dog” is one.  

Ken Shamrock vs the Rock for the Intercontinental Championship.  The Rock wins via DQ. Shamrock attacks referee Mike Chioda in the aftermath. Fine match.

The Boricuas are now searching for Steve Austin but find the D.O.A. instead. This is the era of multiple factions – mostly centering on race – were running wild in the WWE. Los Boricuas, the Nation of Domination, The Truth Commission, and D.O.A. (Disciples of Apocalypse) were the main factions.

The New Age Outlaws vs the Legion of Doom for the Tag Team titles. The Legion wins via DQ. Back-to-back DQ victories is a questionable call on a pay per view.

The Rumble entrants, in order of appearance:

Cactus Jack

Chainsaw Charlie (Terry Funk)

Tom Brandi

The Rock

Mosh of the Headbangers

Phineas Godwinn

8-Ball (Don Harris)

Blackjack Bradshaw (JBL)

Owen Hart (Jeff Jarrett and Jim Cornette ambush Owen on his way to the ring)

Steve Blackman

D’Lo Brown

Kurrgan

Marc Mero (accompanied by Sable)

Ken Shamrock

Thrasher of the Headbangers

Mankind

Goldust (in silver singlet tights with red knee-high fishnets and a black bikini on the outside of the tights, Luna has also changed her outfit to a silver one)

Jeff Jarrett (accompanied by Jim Cornette)

Honky Tonk Man (Hunter and Chyna stroll out to ringside during his entrance and cause Owen to be eliminated)

Ahmed Johnson

Mark Henry

Skull

Kama Mustafa

Steve Austin

Henry Godwinn

Savio Vega (accompanied by the Boricuas)

Farooq

Dude Love

Chainz (Brian Lee)

Vader

Steve Austin wins again, making him the 3rd multiple time winner – Hulk Hogan and Shawn Michaels are the others.

Rumble Highlights: Cactus-Charlie brawl (minus the unprotected chairshots), Rock-Austin outside the ring brawl and in-ring finale

Rumble Feuds: Cactus vs Charlie, Rock vs Shamrock, Owen vs Jarrett, Owen vs Hunter

More cringe moments: the unprotected, non-gimmicked chairshots Funk and Cactus gave each other. Please, no! Did the Harris brothers have their Nazi tattoos yet? (I can’t see clearly but if so, that is worse than cringe).

First-time Rumblers:  Tom Brandi, Mosh, Steve Blackman, Kurrgan, Ken Shamrock, Thrasher, Mark Henry, Chainz

Surprise Entrants: Honky Tonk Man, 3 Faces of Foley

Quickest Elimination: Tom Brandi

Most Eliminations: Steve Austin

Unite to Eliminate the Big Man spot: Kurrgan

The final match of the ppv isn’t the Rumble (which I dislike). The final match is Shawn Michaels vs the Undertaker for the World championship in a casket match.

Shawn and Taker’s previous match was the first Hell In A Cell match. A casket match seems to be a step down in intensity.

Shawn is accompanied by Hunter and Chyna.  The New Age Outlaws and the Boricuas attack the Undertaker but are run off by Kane. Kane then attacks the Undertaker and throws him into the casket. Kane and Paul Bearer lock the casket and set it on fire.

Shawn wins but severely injures his back when he bumps on the casket during the match. This would lead to Shawn’s post-Wrestlemania match.

Rating: 6 out of 10. Solid undercard, fun Rumble, good main event

Wrestlers and others who have passed on: Howard Finkel, Vader, Luna Vachon, Tarantula (Espectrito II), Torito (Espectrito), the Legion of Doom, Terry Funk, Chyna, Paul Bearer

Total number of deceased individuals: 11 (down 3 from the previous Rumble)

[blowflyfag]

Hallo Eris!!

For the Ask Game - What're your thoughts/feelings/opinions about Mankind? (Or any of the Faces of Foley)

<3 - Mitch

Hi Mitch!!!!!

Mankind and all of the faces of Foley are like… my favorite. Mick Foley was a huge reason why my interest in wrestling was even sparked and he was the first wrestler I met!!! But besides like the real life stuff I just… GAHHH I LOVE THE CHARACTER SO MUCH!!

mankind is such an interesting guy to me.. and I fucking love him so much. How he’s like. Brutal yes, but he shows these moments of genuine kindness and empathy for even the fucking most undeserving people. Ughhhh and just.. everything about him. He means so much to me. Also he’s so transgender to me and I wanna look like him so 🤷‍♂️. Maybe I’m biased :3 but I fucking love mankind so much. One of my top guys

[kayfabebabe]

*tugs your sleeve* Dude Love?

Hallo, my baby! Thank you so much for the Ask <3

~ ~ ~

Oh, Dude Love. There is something incredibly Gender about him that I can't explain, but I wish to achieve. I'm not sure if it's the tie dye t-shirts or the small sunglasses. Also, I aspire to be his level of chill about everything.

[phantomrose96]

Prometheus

content warnings: horror. body horror. ghost show can have a little existential horror, as a treat! :)

...

Tucker and Danny sat as silhouettes in the Foley attic rec-room.

The ghoulish light of the television pinned their shadows against the back wall, pulsing in and out like fireflies at each flash of the screen. It left their backs drenched in darkness, and it made monoliths of the old furniture and piled-high boxes that wrapped the perimeter of the attic. Drafty air whistled through the gaps in the insulation. Plicks and flicks of moths beat in tone against the light of the television where the seal of the attic window failed to keep them out. Danny hounded the controller in his hands, clackering with each frenetic beat of his thumb while he mashed his buttons and leaned his full bodyweight into the assault he wrought, virtually until--

“BOOM!! Headshot!” Danny yelled with a pump of his fist. From his nonexistent peripheral vision, he could not see the way Tucker would not look at him.

“Come on, man,” Tucker said.

“Get it?” Danny asked.

“Dude, come on, like… Maybe don’t.”

Danny let out a disappointed huff of air from his nostril, spirits dampened. The wayward glow of his eye settled back on the screen: Victory blazoned across his split of the screen. You Died pulsed on Tucker’s. Danny mashed the rematch option. “Maybe get good then,” Danny said, “and then you get to make the bad puns.”

“Sorry man look I’m just—tired okay?”

“Yeah I know—”

“You can be goofy about it tomorrow—”

“I know—”

“I promise it’ll be hilarious then just—”

“Okay okay, I get it. I’ll save the jokes—”

“How much longer?”

“Hmm?”

Danny looked, and Tucker was looking now too, and it was taking all concentrated will on Tucker’s face to keep looking.

“How much longer until you’re like… You know.”

4am chimed from the grandfather clock stowed in the Foley attic. The ghostly sheen of the television splashed bright and pallid across the right side of Tucker’s face, as he stared at Danny. And it splashed bright across the left side of Danny’s face, which was the only side of Danny’s face remaining.

“I don’t know like… maybe 3 more hours, I think?” A lisp whistled from the absent flesh of his jawbone.

Tucker watched his lips. And his eyes drifted to the shadow carved dark and empty in the socket that could no longer see him, a merciful concealment of where skin turned to raw exposed flesh turned to bone.

Tucker looked forward again, and he mashed his thumbs into his own controller. Danny’s character’s skull exploded into a cloud of meat-rain before Danny had the chance to notice the match resume.

“Fine. I can do 3 more hours,” Tucker said. “And start watching your head.”

…

It wasn’t until the camping trip 4 months ago that Danny knew anything was strange.

It was a yearly Fenton tradition, which Danny tolerated and Jazz dreaded, to haul the four of them and the RV out into some swampy campground 3 hours from home. They’d roll in roaring, RV stuffed to the brim with wilderness equipment and enough mechanical monstrosities to scare away all actual wildlife. All except for the fish, who had the disadvantage of not seeing the mechanical affront to God parked with questionable legality on the campgrounds.

This year, Danny had decided he was embracing it. Because for the first time, sitting grubby and wet in the mud for 3 days sounded much nicer than his typical weekend plans, which was mainly getting his ass kicked by ghosts. He’d flagged down Valerie a week ahead of time to tell her, between gunshots, that he’d be absent for those 3 days. Valerie had taken equal offence at the request that she pick up Phantom’s slack, and the implication that she wasn’t already doing that.

But it meant the ghosts were covered for the weekend, and it meant Danny was free to do nothing more exciting than sit in the mud, which was all well and good enough for Danny. Although his hopes of leaving the weekend with the same number of scars he started with were dashed by hour 5. It was his own fault too. Jack had insisted Danny gut the fish Jack caught via a blast of the Fenton Disintegrator to the lake (unconventional, not even a fishing device, a ghost weapon he and Maddie were fine-tuning. A ranger came and yelled at them about it.) And while distracted by his parents getting told off for being menaces, Danny miscalculated the slipperiness of both fish and knife.

Luckily the RV was, among many many things, a hospital on wheels, and Jazz had quit sulking long enough to take a morbid fascination in cleaning Danny’s palm out with antiseptic that burned like acid and bandaging up his palm. For dinner that night, Danny ate his open-flame grilled fish with a little more prejudice than usual.

By Saturday, his hand hadn’t healed. Nor by Sunday. And on Sunday evening while Maddie and Jack busied themselves with packing up the tent they’d both invented and yet struggled to collapse back into its box, Danny flagged Jazz with quiet urgency.

“I think there’s something wrong with my hand.”

“Wrong how?”

“Infected, maybe.”

Jazz knit her brow in concern. “It looked fine this morning,” she muttered as she pulled Danny down onto the stump beside her and flipped open the First Aid kit latch. She unraveled Danny’s bandage layer by layer, and the concerned knit to her brow loosened to confusion.

“It looks fine. It’s barely even red.”

Danny snatched his hand back. “Yeah, and it’s barely healed at all.”

“I mean, it’s healed a little bit.”

“Yeah but. Barely.”

“It looks pretty normal.”

“Jazz my day-job is getting whacked with ghost machetes,” Danny said, tone growing a little tense at Jazz’s lack of concern. “I know how quickly cuts are supposed to heal.”

“And how quickly is that?”

“I mean. It depends. But like a day.”

“A day?”

“Or maybe 25 hours, I guess.”

“Danny, you cut yourself pretty deep.”

“26 hours max, literally.”

Jazz was staring. Danny felt awkwardly judged.

“Hey um, as a question Danny, do you remember the last injury you got before your ghost powers?”

Danny hesitated. He racked his brain and some part of him felt a little embarrassed how hard he had to search, as if it were shameful to have been so delicately uninjured before this whole thing.

“…Dash, maybe. But Dash it good at the kind of quick jabby punches that hit your nerve but don’t bruise.”

“Anything else?”

Danny fell quiet. Then brightened. “I fell off my bike last year. Racing Tucker. Scraped up my shin and knee.”

“And how long did that take to heal?”

The delight faded a bit. Danny thinned his lips thinking. “…Maybe a while.”

“Probably a few weeks.”

“Jeez, really? No.” Danny said. And he so deeply wanted to be offended, because he’d become the biggest expert in the family on getting his skin used as a ghost shrapnel canvas, which should make him the authority on injury healing. And Jazz was doubting all of that. “No. That’d heal in like. A day.”

“Maybe with ghost powers,” Jazz answered. “Maybe in ghost form. Which, currently and for the last 3 days, you have not been in.”

Danny fell quiet. He considered this information that deeply annoyed him until, with grudgingness edging to acceptance, he looked at his hand, and then his sister, and then his hand.

“….Oh.”

That night, home and showered and with the clock creeping toward 1am, Danny sat on his bed. He pooled his hands in his lap, lit by the moonlight pouring through his bedroom window. He sat an inch above his bed, in fact, hair shimmery white and his right glove removed. In the wash of moonlight he watched his palm. And there was something haunting, almost, in the way he could see the edges of the cut stitch themselves back together bit by tiniest bit. He lost himself in a grainy infomercial on his television, and when it ended, his cut was gone.

…

Phantom returned to the ghost fighting scene with an unwarranted new confidence. In truth nothing had changed. But Danny operated now with the knowledge that he was a particular kind of resilient that he’d not actually realized before. And while he did not like getting fileted by Skulker’s ghost gut-hook knife, or seared by Ember’s flame guitar, or bonked in the head by Fenton Bolas (Dad why), there was a certain delight in the “This will all not be a problem by tomorrow”-ness of it all.

Even better, he now knew that just idling in ghost mode for an extra hour or two was all it took to be right as rain again. (“This is making your Gameboy addiction worse than Tucker’s,” Sam had commented. “Well how else am I supposed to pass the time?” Danny asked while mashing buttons with one less finger than usual. “You could read a book.”)

On the flipside, it did make Danny grouchier about mid-school-day attacks, which didn’t afford him the luxury of floating around to bake in ghost mode for an hour or two watching bad tv. And unless Mr. Lancer got real chill real fast with Danny Phantom taking Danny Fenton’s English tests, it meant that any school-time fight injury had to be dealt with conventional human-style, and super-healed after school.

And Danny carried this knowledge with more bitterness than usual one fall afternoon when a fight with Technus had already gouged into the first 15 minutes of his math test, and now Danny was going to have to suck it up for the last 45 minutes if he wanted to pass geometry this quarter. Which was bullshit because that last blast Technus got on him had really fucking hurt.

Danny landed, and in his math-induced funk, he missed the particular wide-eyed way Sam and Tucker stared at him. “Here,” Danny said, handing off the thermos to Tucker, and Danny let his human transformation slip through in rings around his sternum.

“Danny stop,” Sam said, and with an urgent breathlessness that froze Danny in place. “Do not turn back.”

Confusion seeped into Danny’s blood. He let the transformation rings fade away, and he felt the thermos heavy in his outstretched hand that Tucker would not take. Heavy and wet. Heavy, and very very wet.

He looked at his hand, and his white glove was unrecognizable beneath the saturation of red. The thermos dropped from his hand, and suddenly Danny wasn’t so sure which direction was up.

“Sit,” Sam maybe said, or said something like it. Her hands were on his shoulders. He was easing in a direction that was probably down. His butt hit cold pavement. And suddenly he raked in a shuddering breath which was wet as mud.

Sam was pulling away the top of his suit, which was the worst possible place for her to do that considering how much it hurt. She was pulling right where Technus had blasted him, and Danny had half a mind to tell her off until he saw what was underneath the fabric.

“That’s not good,” he bubbled out through a lot of blood in his mouth and throat.

Baseball-sized. Like someone had taken a very large hole-puncher right to his sternum. A very good hole-puncher because it had in fact punched him straight through and run off with the little cut-out it stole. Globby flesh spilled to fill in some of the empty space. But a solid chunk of sternum, and heart, and lung, and spine, were rudely elsewhere.

Danny was in a very slippery wet dream, and his fluttering eyes agreed.

“No,” Sam said with an unnecessarily aggressive pinch of his skin. “Absolutely do not fall asleep.”

“Ow,” Danny said, maybe about the pinch but also his missing organs.

This wasn’t good enough for Sam who was a little bit ghost-shaded herself while she grabbed both Danny’s ears tight and angled Danny’s eyes to hers. “If you turn human now that’s going to be very very bad. You’re fine, Danny. You’re just in shock, I think. Focus on me. Come on, count with me Danny. 1. 2.”

“Isn’t counting sheep supposed to put you to sleep?” Danny quipped, but all the blood gurgling maybe ruined his delivery a little.

…

His heart sewed itself back together in 20 minutes. His esophagus and trachea kindly followed at the 27-minute mark, the last of the tubage knitting itself together and forming the correct kind of air-seal against anything else in his chest cavity. That was a blessing, because passing the time was easier when he could talk without re-enacting the elevator from The Shining – a joke Danny had tried to deliver several times and which refused to land.

And while he still did not have his new spine vertebrae nor sternum by the 30-minute mark, Danny could see the way the last of the white fear had left Sam’s face and the way Tucker could now face him directly. And that told him that however he looked, he no longer looked like someone who was going to die.

By the 1-hour mark, Danny sat drenched in his own blood from a fatal wound that no longer existed. And he’d missed his math test.

…

Super healing was cool. Very cool. What other kind of power lets you just walk away from fatal injuries?

At the close of a ghost fight, thermos capped, swimming in the eerie silence of a street cleared of screams, Danny stood. And he shivered. He ran his hands up and down his stomach, his chest, his back his face, pressing any pain-point to discover if his fingers would sink in wet and deep. Was it safe to transform back? If he made a mistake, would he notice fast enough? Would he be able to turn back again in time?

Alone in the snow of the Amity golf course. The roof of the mall. The back archives of the library. Danny lingered. Many places were good for lingering, and so Danny would linger, wherever and whenever he could. It made that held-breath feeling of transforming back easier, to know no part of him was at risk of undoing him.

And sometimes his hand did come away sticky. And in the black of night Danny went home, mindful to step only on the kitchen tile from which blood could be wiped up cleanly. And he was tired from too many nights of this when he pulled cereal from the cupboard and splashed milk into a bowl and cleared away the nuts and bolts from the half-undressed Fenton Disintegrator (undergoing v2 upgrades) and flickered the noxious glow of the muted television to life while his liver stitched itself back together. The tremble would not quite leave his cereal spoon hand but he’d manage.

One night Walker had blasted off half of Danny’s skull. And he lay shaking hunched on the pavement willing himself to overcome the pangs of shock radiating through his body until he had enough composure to call Tucker on the phone and ask if he could come over, if they could play Man vs. Zombie maybe, and stay awake through the night while his brain matter remade itself.

One night he had to grab Valerie by the ankle before she flew off, and she probably only heeded him because the break in Phantom’s superhero bravado unnerved her so much. “Please just stay and talk to me. Something bad will happen if I fall asleep,” he said, while holding the parts that used to be his stomach. “Define ‘bad.’” “I’ll die.” “Sounds like a human.” She shouldn’t have taken pity on him. But she did. Maybe because she was a human who would die like Danny if left on the pavement with her stomach open. Valerie stayed until the sun rose.

And he was lucky, because as a human he should have died. And Danny didn’t. He just came close, more and more and more. Until the sight of a raised ghost weapon forced a very human flinch from him.

…

“…losing an edge, you’d say, Craig?” “Not exactly. As a psychiatrist who’s worked with many veterans and active-duty soldiers, it’s common to—”

“Morning,” Jack said, flipping up his welding mask just long enough to nod to Danny before re-busying himself in his soldering.

“Dad, do you think maybe you could do that in the lab?” Jazz asked over a bowl of cornflakes, with a tone one might use when asking a 10-year-old to move his basketball game outside.

“Hmm, why? The table won’t catch fire.”

“Which is what you said last time,” Jazz said, carefully plucking up a cooled bit of metal scrap from beside her cereal bowl.

“…ffered many fatal injuries on camera, who knows how many weren’t capt—”

The television drowned beneath the screech of Jack’s welding, let up to breathe for moments at a time before Jack resumed the drowning. Danny’s eyes followed. The refurbished Fenton Disintegrator had nearly reformed, bigger than its original body, with a gaping fish-mouth twice the radius of the thing which had blasted up the fish in the campground lake.

“I just think, Dad, that you and Mom have a whooooole laboratory basement to yourselves, and I have just this one dining table to eat cereal at, so—”

“But then you kids would miss out on what I’m making. See, Danny’s interested. Danny, watch this—”

Jack hoisted the monster up. He hitched it atop his shoulder, and set his eye behind its sight, and twisted at the hip to point its open maw directly at Danny.

Danny froze.

“Dad, Jesus, at least show some trigger-discipline if you’re—Danny?”

Danny could not move. He could not move or really see. The shockwave rippled through him, and he believed for the moment that surely he’d been shot until Jazz shook him. “Danny, are you okay?”

Danny’s heart was intact but still it squeezed like it had been ripped. His legs were whole but they were numb beneath him. And he was useless too. Over what? Over nothing. Over a gun pointed at him, the sort which had been pointed at him 4,000 times before.

“…Danny?” Jazz asked, more worried than before. Jack had put down the gun, and he was staring at Danny in the same way.

And it was stupid. So very stupid. Because Danny had super-healing, and a hit from something like that would heal. It could rip him apart, and he’d be completely fine.

So it was all actually incredibly incredibly stupid that he was somehow, without even meaning to, crying.

…

The fight had ended three hours ago. And three hours was longer than only the worst of his injuries took to heal. Tonight had not been bad at all, just a bit of ripping and tearing at his leg from a bear-trap Skulker had laid (despite Skulker insisting he did not know what a bear was). And that had healed up in 20 minutes flat.

Danny lingered anyway, sitting soaking cold in the snow on the golf course. He liked that it was high-up here. He liked that the lights fanned far and wide. He liked that the razed-flat golf turf allowed nothing to hide. He wiled away the hours he ought to be sleeping, because there was a security in consciousness, in his ghost form. If he slept, he could be killed. And if he sat resting in ghost form on the crest of the golf course hill, he could not.

But he could nod off. Catching his head at each dip. But his mind fizzled and faded, rubbing against the staticky edge of sleep, enough to perhaps not notice steps in the snowfall that tracked him to where he sat.

The whir of the charging gun kicked him to high alert.

All alert, all at once, so suddenly adrenaline soaked that Danny had no sense of orientation when he spun on spot and his eyes drank in the sight of the barrel-mouth breathing to life in his direction.

“Told you I fixed the calibration on this, Honey.”

“Well at least it’s not a fish.”

Stop, Danny wanted to say. But he was paralyzed. He was dread. He was stone.

It screeched. And it roared. And with a connection of a car crash, it took greedily for itself a gibbous moon of Danny’s torso.

He collapsed. Eyes spinning. Ears ringing. Sensation like fire and like ice and like buzzing static and nothing, feeling, at all to connect to his legs.

Stop, Danny wanted to say. But he needed a mouth for that. So the second blast connected.

…

It had been an amount of time. Jack and Maddie Fenton may have stooped in the snow and collected samples to study. Danny could not know, because he’d need eyes to know. They may have crunched with their boots and mused about the resilience of ecto-flesh, more resilient than fish-flesh. Danny could not know, because he’d need ears to know. They may have picked him up piece-meal and carried him in their pockets. Danny could not know. Not without touch.

He may have been on the golf course. He may not have been. There was no ‘where’ Danny could know. He needed his proprioception for that.

There was was. There was something Danny hoped was be. This was, Danny hoped, awake. This was the only awake he could be without a brain. And if this was awake, how long could he last? And if this was awake, was it enough to heal again?

Super healing was cool. It saved you from death. But maybe not always.

Was time passing…? Was the snow cold. Was the wind blowing. Was the hilltop white under pooling lights. Was it. And did it. And was he and did he.

Was time passing?

Surely, it had been just an eternity, by now. An eternity at least.

Or had it been only one second.

Or Danny wasn’t here.

He was, though. He had to exist to feel what he felt in the moment. He had to exist even if he was deprived of the mouth needed to scream the agony that was, in its entirety, him.

…

Sun glazed the snow on the east bank of the golf course down to a slushy sheen by 10am the next morning. Mitted, in snow boots, three trespassers combed the 18 holes of Amity Park Golf Course.

“Are you sure it’s this one?” Sam asked, voice hoarse with a question that had been repeated once an hour for the last three hours between heaving breaths of clearing snow.

“It has to be this one. They said golf course there’s only one golf course,” Jazz answered, and her hands trembled against the heel of the shovel she dug into her nearest snowbank.

“Do you see any foot prints?”

“They’re melted.”

“Well check the melted sides then!”

“We checked the melted sides.”

“Maybe we missed—”

“Guys shut up,” Tucker said, and he said it low, and he said it with lips the color of ash. He stood rooted. And his eyes shifted to the crown of the hill 30 feet to their right.

Jazz and Sam shut up. Because they heard it too.

Jazz abandoned her shovel in the snow. She ran. But Sam was faster.

And it was a noise. Long and piercing and deflating. Quiet. Then starting fresh from the top. Long and singular, like the note of a bagpipe. Sam rounded the crest of the hill. And she found the noise first.

And this close, she realized what it was. The noise was relief. Because the thing lying in the melted snow was finally enough of a mouth, and enough of a throat, and enough of a lung, to scream.

[redflagshipwriter]

Mama Bat pt3 progress Post

Part 3 Progress

Batcount: Stephanie, Dick

“Danny Fenton, parents declared him dead and claimed they buried him,” Dick said, spinning around in the batcomputer batchair. Anxious, unhappy, too much energy because there's nothing to fight here. “He has an older sister, I think she knows he's in Gotham and she's covering for him. She'll be coming to Gotham University next semester, despite having accepted a better offer from Harvard last year.” 

Steph let out a low, long whistle. “Whatever's going on at home must be bad,” she commented. “No other contacts?”

Dick pulled up a grainy class photo. “He's part of a small friend group, but neither of them have made any unusual moves. If Sam Manson or Tucker Foley get a plane ticket we'll know, but for now?” He shrugged, eyes distant. “Seems like he ran off alone. But probably for really good reasons.” He switched tabs back to the unhinged Fenton works website. He all but vibrated: wanna go, want to run, look, see.

Steph squinted for a few moments, reading. “...We’re going to go see what crimes against nature they're committing, aren't we?” She sounded resigned to it.

Dick shrugged. “It's not ideal,” he said unhappily. “The town is too small for how we normally do our night work. But face out is a big risk.” 

“Maybe we should lean on a friend?” Stephanie suggested. “Someone who has a public role that wouldn't be a problem?” 

“We’ll have to ask Mama Bat.” 

They both turned to look at Cass, who was sitting on a desk. She arched an eyebrow at them. “We ask Danny,” she said pointedly. “He knows best.” 

Stephanie made a face that said she disagreed. 

Cass huffed. “He knows,” she reiterated. He had lived there. He knew the people. “We could make a mess.” She mimed sweeping the stack of Bruce papers off the desk surface and then an expression of exaggerated batdad horror.

Stephanie untensed enough to laugh. 

Cass considered that good enough. She jumped down and patted Dick as she passed. He let out an exaggerated sigh but he powered down the computer and followed her up. “I'm excited to get to meet the little guy,” he said. The lights turned off. All three of them hit the stairs and jogged up. Dick chattered away, tweet tweet tweet. “It's so sweet that Dami latched onto him like this. When I asked what Danny would like as a welcome home gift, he told me that I was a cretin and should not corrupt the baby.” He laughed, high and joyous. It was contagious. Cass found herself laughing with him.

Stephanie squinted at the back of Dick's head as the oldest brother bounded up the stairs. “Damian… likes him?” She confirmed. 

Cass beamed. Of course he did. Danny was a good baby. He and Damian were out now walking dogs at the animal shelter while Alfie did the big weekly shop. 

Dick shrugged. “He gets to be the mentor,” he pointed out. “He’s not the Babiest Bat anymore.” 

“Danny is older than Damian,” Stephanie protested. Cass glared at her. 

“He's baby,” she said firmly. End of conversation. 

[2tcs]

Day 3: reunions after a long time and rain

“Hay Bruce?” Duke asked as he walked out of the locker room. It was the end of his shift, thank god, so everyone was getting ready for the night shift.

“What's going on chum?”

“My cousin is coming to Gotham for a senior field trip thing next week to visit Gotham U and I was wondering if he and his friends can stay at the manor so they don’t have to pay for a hotel.”

“We’ll have to run a background check on them” “Already done!” Duke interrupted Bruce and jumped around him to get to the batcomputer to open up the files.

“Hmm. You really want your cousin to visit huh.” Bruce said as he scanned through the files.

“Ya. I haven’t seen him in ages and even though we text it’s not the same as an in-person visit. And Gotham isn’t safe for tourists so, manor.”

“Mhm, Duke?”

“Yes, Bruce?”

“Why are his and his friends' hometown labeled as unconfirmed?”

“Well, that may be one of the reasons I thought it would be a good idea for everyone to meet them? I know Tucker lives in Amity Park, Illinois. I’ve even visited him there when we were kids. But when I tried to look it up for the background check I couldn’t find it. It’s like it never existed. When I tried to ask him about it he kinda dodged my question and changed the subject. Like he was nervous about someone overhearing.”

“Alright. I’ll inform Tim about their hometown and see if he can find out what’s going on. Make sure you tell Alfried that we are having guests.”

“Thank you so much Bruce! I’ll go tell Alfried right now. Night!” Duke yelled as he ran to the elevator.

👻🦇👻🦇

“Tucker! Over here!” Duke yelled as Tucker and his friends got off the bus.

“Duke! It’s good to see you! How have you been?” Tucker said as he ran up to Duke and gave him a side hug while using his free hand to point. “This is Danny and Sam. Danny, Sam. This is my cousin Duke.”

“It’s nice to meet you guys. Tucker’s told me a lot about you two.” Duke said as he accepted handshakes from Sam then Danny.

“It’s nice to meet you too Duke. Hopefully, Tucker has told you only the worst of things about us.” Sam joked.

“Of course. Hay, did you really switch out all the frogs in your freshman biology class with robot frogs?”

“Don’t remind me. Those things were so creepy. They talked to you as you cut them open.” Danny said with a disgusted face.

“It was more humane than dissecting living animals.” Sam defended herself.

“Wait. The frogs were alive? Tucker! Why was your school using living frogs instead of cadaver frogs?” Duke asked in shock.

“I got no clue man. Anyways, do we need to call a cab to get to your place? Cause I’m not walking in this downpour.” Tucker said while looking around.

“Hold on right there Mr Foley. You all need to sign these forms so we can get ahold of you in case of an emergency.” Mr Lancer said as he walked up to the group with several papers. “And I would also like to speak to your guardian before my students leave so I know they are in safe hands.”

“Ahem. I’m afraid Master Wayne is occupied with work right now but I am his butler, Alfred Pennyworth and I am in charge of taking care of all the needs of the Wayne family and their guests. If need be here is the main phone number for the manor as well as the address. Is there anything else I can do to ensure you of your students’ safety?” Alfred said as he seemingly appeared out of thin air and handed Mr Lancer a business card with the aforementioned information written on the back.

“Thank you for this Mr Pennyworth. My name is Lenard Lancer. As the vice principal of Casper High School, I have a duty to the students of our school. So I will still need these three to fill out these forms before they leave.”

“Of course Mr Lancer. I fully understand. Now if you all would please finish with the paperwork, we can load into the car and get out of this dreadful weather.” Alfred said watching as Danny, Sam, and Tucker traded off on using each other's backs to fill out the forms and hand them back to Mr Lancer.

[snaileer]

Call to my Bedside - 3

Part 1:

When Maddie wakes up with chains around her wrists and a pounding her head, she is surprised to see her family in front of her.

As she blinks in the darkness, ignoring the way her eyes won’t focus, her surprise gradually washes into fast-paced terror.

It’s not just her family in front of her, but also her children’s friends. Her son’s friends.

But her son is nowhere to be seen. Amongst the grime and dinge of the space, there is no unruly mass of black hair.

She counts again. 1, 2-

1, 2,-

Her son exists as a group of three to her.

Jazzy, Jack, and Danny.

Tucker Foley, Sam Manson, and Danny.

But- she counts again.

1, 2-  1, 2-

Her son is not here. Danny is not here.

Her family is injured, Jazz and Jack in one cell and the kids in another, her in yet one more, and her son is missing.

Maddie tries to remember what happened, why she is injured, where they are, why-

There were people, she had fought them, all black clothes and blades, Jazz had come downstairs at the sound, Jack had defended her, Maddie watched them both go down under a blow, the distraction enough- Danny had never come home from school.

Her husband starts to rouse, a low groan.

“Jack.” She whispers harshly, “Jack!”

“Maddie-kins?” Jack mumbles, trying to push himself upright but stumbling when he realizes his hands are bound together by manacles.

His are not chained to the wall like her own, but they are still heavy steel.

“I’m here Jack, I’m alright,” She can see him turn to her in the dim light, “Banged up, but alright.”

Indignant anger flashes across her husband’s face, “Who did this? What happened-those people!” Jack increasingly gets louder, “The ninja people! They got past our ghost barrier-!”

“They’re not ghosts, hun,” Maddie cuts in, making him look over.

Some of his righteous exuberance fades, “Then why..?”

Maddie shakes her head, immediately regretting it, headache increasing as she tries to talk, “I don’t know. But Jack, Danny’s not here, I don’t know where he is, but he never came home, something’s wrong-“

“Danno!” Jack yells, looking frantically over the group through the bars between them.

Finally, his volume seems to rouse the others. Sam and Tucker both wake with a lurch, Jazz soon on their heels with a groan.

“Danny!” Sam yells, looking around them, “They got Danny!”

“And my tech!” Tucker yells, hands patting himself down.

Sam glares at him, “That’s what you’re worrying about?!”

“What, like having a satellite capable PDA wouldn’t be helpful right now!? Danny told us to run, you’re the one who made us stay-!”

“We weren’t gonna leave him-“

“Oh well look at us now, we’re not doing much better than-“

“Kids!” Maddie yells, and their heads snap over to her, “What are you talking about? Where’s Danny?”

For some reason they both seem to glance at Jazz before answering, receiving a hesitant nod.

Sam started, “We don’t know where he is now, but we were walking home and something exploded-“

“We thought it was just another ghost attack!” Tucker cut in, looking increasingly distressed, “But then Danny was fighting off these freaky ninja people, and telling us to run-“

“But we couldn’t just leave him there! We tried to help-

“There were so many, and they grabbed us and then we saw them grab Danny and…-“ Tucker stopped, looking down at the chains on his wrists, “And then we woke up here…Mrs.Fenton, where are we?”

“I don’t know, hun,” Maddie looked at her son’s friend, then to her own daughter, her husband, “But we’ll figure it out. And then we’re going to find Danny.”

Jack beamed at her, his trust in her confidence shining through.

She wished she believed it even half as much.

——

The first time they come, a group of five people, still dressed in black, weapons lining their body, Maddie yells and shouts. Demands they tell her where Danny is. They are silent.

They methodically go to each of their cells in pairs, one pointing a gun and the other setting down a bag of food. Military rations.

She screams and yells the entire time.

When they go to Maddie’s cell last, removing one arm from her shackles so she can eat, she takes advantage, lashing out with a yell and just as much anger as vicious desperation.

She punches the one nearest, a sloppy front kick displacing the other’s gun pointed at her.

Before she can attack again, one arm still pulled back to the wall behind her, the click of a safety coming off silences her.

The rest of the chapter is thru Ao3, cuz Tumblr says its too long. *^*

Tags:

@thecrystallabyrinth @isnt-that-grape @riverdancingwerewolves @mimblizzy @chaos-deimos-et-eris @miraculousandmore2 @mys-tia @jitteryjuttury @moonlight-opal @nerdypaintbrush @thedragonqueen1998 @luminanightfall @cowarddragon @cyrwrites @kamireadsmcu @manapeer @imaginationmademanifest

[gilverrwrites]

Call me Tim

Tim Drake/Reader, 2K

[Say his name, P2] AN: I did not expect part 1 to be se well recieved, here hoping part 2 was worth the wait! CWs: Breach of trust, teasing, semi-public foreplay, mildly stalker-ish behaviour on Tims part.

Tim had always told himself that fucking his fans was not a thing for him. Not a kink. Bernard was different, he just had so much passion. He would have been into him regardless of whatever he was fixated on.

Then you happened.

Ever since he’s been telling himself that it was coincidence, not causation. And again, he liked you before he found out you’d spent your formative years kissing cutouts of him. Well, he doesn’t know that part for sure, but he liked to imagine it. Point being; your adolescent crush on him was not the driving force behind his attraction to you.

But as he found himself plotting ways to naturally bump into you as Tim Drake-Wayne, it was becoming increasingly harder to deny that he maybe was, a little bit, kind of into it.

Hitting you up online? Too out of the blue.

Turning up at your house? Way too much.

Then one night the perfect opportunity arose. He’d overheard you making plans to meet some friends at an uptown bar later that week. He wasn’t scheduled to patrol that night. Despite the logical part of his brain telling him it was a creepy move, he just couldn’t pass up the chance. Red Robin had to be so cautious around you, but if you hit it off with Tim he could let a little loose around you.

That’s how he’s ended up sitting on the table adjacent to yours, listening in on your private conversation and praying you wouldn’t recognise him before he was ready.

“So have you guys ever had someone ask you to call them by a different name when you’re… you know?” He nearly coughs on his drink, sitting bolt upright as though it will help him hear better. He trusts you not to spill on who the guy is. You’d had that conversation already, but he wants to hear you say Tim again.

“What like ‘Daddy’? Yeah, my ex was into that.”

“No.” Your voice has grown so quiet, laced with a sheepish laugh just like the morning you’d confessed about your crush to him. God, he wishes he could turn around and look at your face. He’d bet you’re all flustered. “Like, another actual man’s name?”

“No, hon. That’s weird.”

“Who’s the guy? Whose name?”

“You don’t know him.” You shut down the first question. He bets your fidgeting, looking at anything other than your friends as you consider your next words cafeully. “But he wanted me to call him Tim. As in, Tim Drake.”

“That’s really weird. Did he know you used to be down bad for him?”

He knows it's mean to turn around now, and worse, risky. Liable to scare you away but it’s so worth it to see the five stages of grief cross your face in the span of 3 seconds when you notice him. You're like a starstruck deer in the headlights as the word “yeah” dies on your lips. If he cupped your cheeks right now, he's certain the heat would burn away any remnants of his fingerprints.

The whole table falls silent as one by one, your friend’s clue into the situation. If it weren’t for their sickly amused smiles, and the foley of the bar, you’d think the world has stopped turning. You wish the world would stop turning.

He’s staring at you with an almost impish smile and your fight, flight, or freeze kicks in. You opt for stuttering “I have to piss!” As you abruptly leave the table.

I have to piss. You just bumped into The Tim Drake, and the first things he heard from your mouth were that you’d called his name while hooking up with someone, and I have to piss.   

The queue to the solo bathroom in this place is always long, and usually you’d be annoyed but tonight you’re grateful for the extra time to compose yourself, or you would be if you apparently hadn’t been followed.

“So, is he your boyfriend?” Where the fuck had he come from? You hadn’t seen him approach at all.

“He’s…” Not, not your boyfriend. You see each other at least weekly, sometimes you cook for him, and he often brings you gifts. However, you’ve never had that conversation, you don’t even know who he is under the mask. You don’t have his phone number. Despite multiple sexual encounters, you hadn’t even seen him naked. Now that you think about it, there’s a definite power imbalance in whatever you have. “Why?”

You’re much more defensive of his teasing than you are with Red Robin. Understandable, you didn’t really know Tim, and he’s really hit you out of left field. This is all turning out a bit crueller than he’d intended, but he can’t bring himself to stop. Your apprehension tonight is as tempting as your timidness had been last time. It’s like he’s trying to seduce you on hard mode.

“Just tryin’ to find out if it would be appropriate to buy you a drink, maybe ask you to dance?” He sounds off. Not like he does in the TV interviews and podcasts you’d heard him on, but still familiar. It’s hard to focus on, however, because he’s standing so close. Close enough for you to smell the fresh sweetness of his aftershave, for you to see the features you’ve been fantasising about up close.

“This place doesn’t have a dance floor.”

“We could go to another place.”

“Oh no buddy, I’m not going to any secondary locations.” He can’t help the smile that crosses his lips. You remembered his safety tip. He just hopes it reads as anything other than prideful to you right now. “Don’t think for a second just cause you heard what you heard that I’m gonna fall all over you.”

“Buddy? You can call me Tim.” The obvious innuendo has you cracking a genuine smile. Your nerves are still apparent from the way you're tapping your fingers against your thigh, and your refusal to make meaningful eye contact with him but he’s chipping at your walls. There's four people waiting ahead, and he wonders if he can breach your shields completely before it's your turn. “Or if it makes you feel better you could call me whatever that other guy’s name is.”

“Is this how you get people to sleep with you? You tease them relentlessly until they give up just so you’ll go away when it’s over?”

“Ouch.” You have a point, he’s never behaved like this before. He’s always been a self-confessed smartass, but you just bring out something especially brazen within him. Something wicked. He’s being a jerk, but you’re chewing your lips and sneaking awed glances at him, which implies you’re more into it than you’d admit. “Am I not what you expected?”

He probably would live up to your expectations had this been your real first meeting. If he wasn’t already comfortable around you, he’d be enamoured by your appearance, too skittish to match your keen whit or ask about your hobbies, not when you look at him with those eyes. If anything, the typical Tim Drake persona might even bore you by rambling on about detective novels or WayneTech.

“You’re why people say you should never meet your heroes.”

“Okay, fine.” Maybe he had gotten a bit carried away messing with you. “Can I just ask you one more thing, and then I’ll go away, or buy you a drink? Whatever you want.”

Your eyes drift up to the ceiling as you consider his offer. It’s not an uncommon tick for people to have, but it’s certainly more endearing when you do it. Eventually, you nod, conceding to him and offering real, esrnest eye contact. You’re still willing to hear out your favourite celebrity, and a pang of guilt at once again abusing his authority thrums through his chest.

It doesn’t stop him from asking, however. “What clued this guy into your crush on me?”

“Pictures.” You frown, still not breaking eye contact. Something is different. The nervous energy you’ve been emanating since he’d followed you to the line has subsided, replaced by something tantalisingly self-assured.

“Pictures of what?”

He tries to pry but you give him nothing.

“Of you.”

“What kind of pictures.”

The answers here don’t matter to him anyway, he already knows. He’s just trying to segue into a specific set of questions.

“Just, pictures.”

“How ambiguous.” Here’s his chance to try and satisfy that burning fantasy. “Did you practice kissing on them?”

“What? No.” Your tense shoulders say otherwise. “Why would you even ask that?”

“I don’t know.” Perfect. He gives his best noncommittal shrug before leaning in closer, balancing his weight on the wall behind you until the distance between your bodies is closed. He can still pick up hints of your body wash, but it’s washed out but the smell of a parfum that he wishes he could spray on his pillows at night. “Thought I’d offer you the real thing to compare.”

Your response isn’t what he’s expected, but it is what he’s hoped. Your lips press softly against the corner of his lips, and he can’t stop from locking a hand on your hip, not to force anything further, but to stop you from backing away. Although, the wall he has you partly confined against has been doing a pretty good job thus far.

He needn’t bother, however, because it doesn’t take long for you to grow more confident. This is the moment he’s been waiting for.

His mouth parts at the first sign of your tongue and you eagerly explore his mouth. He tastes like IPA, hoppy and warm. Your hands boldly play across his chest, until you fist the fabric of his shirt and tug him closer, deepening the kiss until he moans into your open mouth.

Your sudden boldness is doing things for him. Head spinney, dick hard things. Thoughtlessly, he ruts his hips, rubbing his clothes cock against your lower abdomen until you pull away with a laugh. It’s his turn to be nervous. You’re looking at him with something fierce and canny.

“Excuse me.” A clearly unamused man interjects himself between your embrace to point at the bathroom. “Are you waiting?”

“Oh, yeah.” Tim is surprised by your chipper poise, as you smile politely at the man. He’s even more surprised when you hook your fingers into the give of his leather belt and proceed to drag him with you into the cubicle, locking him inside with you as you offer thanks to the stranger.

“What are you doing?”

“Comparing with the real thing.”  You grace him with another, hard kiss, backing him against the door. Your tongue is hot against his already heated skin as you hurriedly work it along his jaw and neck. He remembers how you’d looked when you’d first noticed him earlier and wonders if his burning face looks equally as nonplussed as he lets you have your way with him against the bathroom door.

He hisses when you plunge your fingers below his belt once more, this time unbuckling it. You’ve fucking cracked, he must have broken something in your brain. There’ll be exaggerated stories about this all over the Gotham Globe’s home page tomorrow. Hell, if he cares though.

“You’ve changed your tune.” He comments, bucking his hips, helping you free him from his boxers. Your fingers lock around his base, and it throbs at finally being touched by you. He’s wanted so badly to fuck you for months but as Red Robin, he’s had to be careful, had to put his guard up which had resulted in a very altruistic sex life. But Tim Drake could fuck you. Right here, right now, Tim Drake-Wayne would fuck whatever hole you’d give him and the thought of it has him losing composure fast.

Your lips lock in one last frenzied kiss before you drop to your knees, and you look like an Angel sent from hell, looking up at him from beneath his reddened cock, with heady eyes and salacious smile.

“So, Red.” Shit. His heart skips a beat. Shit. Shit. Shit. He’s not sure what gave him away, but he doesn’t have a chance to care before you spit on his dick and start to pump with a deliberate rhythmic pace that has his head rolling back against the door. He’s not sure if he wishes he’d never done this at all, or if he’d done it sooner. “What name should I use tonight?”

[wishyouloveme]

Star's Kinkvember list!!

requests are open babies!! This list is not finalized, things can change, send me a request if you'd like to see a certain kink with a certain special someone.

side note: these are for November, cause i wanted to October, but I'm late

TAG TIME: @harmshake @spookybitchdreams @thickbihhwitdagapp @urasunflower @whatdoeseverybodywant @lilucey @jstarr86

reply in the comments if you wanna be added to my taglist

how to request a kinkvember: send in an ask with a day, and a character. REMEMBER, these are only x reader.

Day 1: Oral sex; pairing (Jimmy Uso x reader) Day 2:bondage; pairing (Tama Tonga x reader)

Day 3: Spanking; pairing (Jey Uso x reader)

Day 4: Hair pulling; pairing (Damian Priest x reader)

day 5: Dirty talk; Pairing (Jey Uso x reader)

day 6: Blindfolds; pairing (Tyler Lockwood x reader)

day 7: toys; pairing (Jey uso x reader)

day 8:Lingerie; Pairing (Drew McIntyre x reader)

day 9: breast/ Nipple play; Pairing (Ludwig Kaiser x reader)

day 10:Handcuffs; pairing (Roman reigns x reader)

day 11: Biting; Pairing (Solo Sikoa x reader)

day 12: Discipline; pairing (Baron Corbin x reader)

day 13: Sex in public; pairing (Paul lahote x reader)

day 14:Mutual masturbation; pairing (unknown)

day 15: collar and Lead; pairing (unknown)

day 16:Masturbation;pairing (unknown)

day 17: Candle wax; pairing (Tama tonga x reader)

day 18:Rough sex; pairing (Emmett Cullen x reader)

Day 19: threesome; pairing (Jey Uso x reader x Damian Priest)

Day 20: face fucking; pairing (Rafe Cameron x reader)

Day 21: Domination; pairing (Tonga loa x reader)

Day 22: Vibrators; pairing (tama tonga x reader)

Day 23: Strap on; pairing (Rhea Ripley x reader)

day 24: Voyuerism; pairing (Damian Priest x reader)

Day 25: High heels; pairing (Roman reigns x reader)

Day 26: Cunnilingus; pairing (Tonga Loa x reader) Day 27: Squirting;pairing (Tama tonga x reader)

Day 28: Praising;Pairing (Simon Basset x reader)

day 29:Aftercare;pairing (Tonga Loa x reader)

Day 30: Choking; Pairing (Baron Corbin x reader)

Extra: Choking and mutual masturbation (Montgomery de la Cruz x reader)

Small reminder!!: any that say unknown are open to request, these will be FULL ONESHOTS, not blurbs!!

the characters open for this are:

Wrestling:Jey Uso, Jimmy Uso, Damian Priest, Rhea Ripley, Drew McIntyre, Roman Reigns, Tama Tonga, Solo Sikoa, Andrade, Baron Corbin, Jacob Fatu, Randy Orton, Logan Paul, Ludwig Kaiser, Santos Escobar, and Tonga Loa.

Shameless: Kevin Ball, Mickey Milkovich.

Twilight: Jacob Black, Paul Lahote, Sam Uley, Edward Cullen, Emmett Cullen, Rosalie Cullen.

Outer Banks: Rafe Cameron, JJ Maybank, John B. Routledge, Sarah Cameron, Barry.

Bridgerton: Simon basset, Anthony Bridgerton.

Good Girls:Rio

The walking dead: Daryl Dixon, Glenn Rhee

Supernatural: Dean Winchester, Sam winchester, Castiel, Crowley.

Vampire Diaries: Damon Salvatore, Stefan Salvatore (I'm a Stefan girlie) Tyler Lockwoof.

Fast and Furious: Dominic Toretto, Brion O'connor.

Heartstopper: Nick Nelson.

hamilton: Alexander Hamilton, Aaron Burr, Thomas Jefferson.

Criminal Minds: Aaron hotchner, Derek Morgan. 13 reasons why: Montgomery De La Cruz, Justin Foley, Zach Dempsey, Tony Padilla

Thats all my loves <3. Requests are ALWAYS OPEN. And you can always chat with me. Mwah <3

[impyssadobsessions]

DPXDC FIC: RAISING PHANTOM CHPT 12

This a double/triple length chapter ;3. Took me FOREVER. Sorry ;3 Raising Phantom (40084 words) by Imp_y Fandom: Batman - All Media Types, Danny Phantom Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Danny Fenton & Jazz Fenton, Danny Fenton & Jason Todd, Jazz Fenton & Jason Todd Characters: Danny Fenton, Jazz Fenton, Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Batfamily Members, Barbara Gordon, Sam Manson, Tucker Foley, Vlad Masters, Damian Wayne, Tim Drake, Bruce Wayne, Stephanie Brown, Cassandra Cain, Duke Thomas, Joker (DCU) Additional Tags: Family, Age Regression/De-Aging, Sexual Harrassment, she got saved before anything happen, Fun, Chaotic Batfamily (DCU), Wayne Gala (DCU), fake implied sensitive themes, Art, dpxdc, uwu faces are a thing, no beta we die like danny, Action, Comedy, Suspense, Angst, Danny Fenton Needs A Hug, Jazz Fenton Needs A Hug, Explosives, Gun Violence, Child Danny Fenton, mention blood and injury, Trauma

EXCERPT below

“ There we go.” Jazz patted her leg, flinching instantly. She had used her body weight to break the pipe off the wall and tied it to her leg with the rope that had previously tied her to the chair. It wasn't the best makeshift splint, but it'll do. She let out a breath, then pulled herself up to her feet using the pipes still fixed well onto the wall, hoping they wouldn't break. It hurt a lot, at first, but slowly grew dull when she became sturdy on her feet. She balanced herself, mostly putting weight onto her good foot, before eyeing her surroundings. The Joker still lay flat on the floor. The chair legs had hit him square between the eyes. Maybe if she shot chairs instead of lasers, she would have been more helpful to Danny when he was fighting ghosts. Not that it mattered now. An exit-she needed to find one, but first. Her eyes went from the door, to the blinking lights, and down to the Joker's trousers. Her face scrunched up. The remote. Whether it actually did anything or not was up in the air- but... if it did. She had to have it so the Joker couldn't blow up the place before she could escape. She hobbled over to the Joker carefully, kneeling down on her good leg. She eyed him for a moment. His tongue hung out the side of his mouth, head hung back. His body was still with only his chest falling and rising. Make this quick. She reached into his pants pocket. Gently, she felt around for the remote with her fingers, trying to avoid hitting any buttons, and then carefully slid it out. She let out a sigh of relief as she glanced over the remote. Good. Now to- She screamed when her wrist was suddenly grabbed and pulled away from her, making her fall onto her hip. “A pick-pocket too?” Joker's voice darkly chuckled, “What a perfect little bat bait, aren't you?” She pulled back at Joker's grip, but he had already slammed her hand into the ground. Her eyes widened as Joker rolled on top of her. She pulled back her knee to keep him from being able to sit on her and kicked him as hard as she could. The Joker flung backward onto the ground. Jazz scrambled to get onto her feet, the remote still in her hand. When she noticed the Joker getting back up, at about the same time as her, she quickly reached for the nearest piece of furniture- the table. She put all her weight into slinging it at the Joker, making him stumble back. She bolted for the door, using her body weight to bust it open. She heard the Joker growl darkly before the door slammed behind her.

[anonymous-existences]

Chapter 3 : Phantasm Recovery

[𝙵𝚊𝚛 𝙵𝚛𝚘𝚣𝚎𝚗, 𝙶𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚉𝚘𝚗𝚎 / I𝚗𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚖𝚜]

Dash Baxter and Tucker Foley was Heading to the Far Frozen with Fright Knight as their Supervision, His Mare riding through the Ghost Zone, Soon They landed in the Far Frozen, It made Dash shiver because of the cold chill that sets as soon as they landed on the surface, it was snowing heavily, almost like a Blizzard but it's softer winds. "Brr— Gosh— i forgot how cold it is here." Tucker shivered, no wonder Fright Knight made them wear layers of Thick Clothes, dash sighs as his breathe turns into an icy fog mixing their surroundings.

They trekked through the snow still on top of the Mare as Fright Knight Led the Horse Through the Thick Snow, soon they saw sight of the Yeti's Homes and Presumably where Danny is, Tucker looked Relieved and Dash's eyes sparkled in Satisfaction that Danny was Alright, Tucker glared at him and Dash Notices his Glaring. "W-What's up Foley Nerd?" Dash asked Nervously as Tucker's glare felt as though it's digging at his skin, "Since when were you this concerned for Danny..." Tucker asks with a deep voice of threatening intent.

"Uhm— I have no idea— he just looks majestic nowada— oh have mercy—" Dash barely dodges Tucker's Phantom CreepStick™ "I have my eyes on You Dash Baxter.." he glared and Warned, "If you bully Danny again I'll actually give you a concussion and a broke nose. Capiche?" Tucker hisses his eyes felt like a wolf ready to hunt it's prey and the prey was Dash.

"Jeez, Look it's been like... 3 days, since... That happened. I'm gonna keep changing to be a better version of myself... We all saw too many people die.. my parents are dead so I don't have to hide my homosexuality anymore—" Dash was Interrupted with a "HUH??" By Tucker, Dash tilts his head in confusion and Tucker stared at him in shock. "you're a huh.— a homo-Huh. I never noticed. Oh my god. And I thought Sam was lying when she said you totally were into Boy's Love—" Tucker said which made Dash Choke on his own saliva.

The two looked at each other in shock, both trying to comprehend the information they gave each other, "wait Wait, so . You didn't know I was Gay, but Sam Manson, the Goth one, guessed and THINKED that I was gay the Whole Time? And she knows... I have... BL..?" Dash tries to confirm, "SAM ALSO Said that she has seen you... Buy.... BL related.. books..." Tucker says slowly which made Dash just stunned. "NUH-UH!" Dash denies. "Yeah like that's gonna prove your case—" Tucker laughed at him as he buried his face in his Scarf.

"This is so humiliating.." Dash says as Tucker Foley continued laughing at Him loudly making the whole ride to the far Frozen homes much longer than it felt for Dash Baxter. Deep inside Dash knows they don't like him very much but he'll prove to them that he's changed.. especially in these rough times where they're all basically Orphans and Alone. They were each others last strand of sanity. Dash pulled Tucker closer as the blizzard leading to the Far Frozen homes got too cold for them. "Hold On Foley." Dash says trying to see ahead through the Thick Blizzard, Tucker Tightens his grip on Dash's Coat and both of them trying to Tighten each other's grip to not let each other go, a few minutes of the coldness passed and soon they passed through the blizzard like barrier and reached the far Frozen homes.

KnightMare was Shaking off the Snow from her pelt and she didn't look very pleased to be covered in frost by her hooves kicking and stomping, Fright Knight wiped the snow off of the crevices from his armor and also shook the excess off after helping the two kids off the Horse. Tucker shivered and dash shook off the excess Snow on his Coat, "Grah, that's so heav—" he was cut off with a snowball to his face. "Oh come on Foley. That's so unfair." Dash complains but gets another Snowball to his face, "Foley!" Dash yells as he wipes the snowball on his face, but was stunned when he saw it wasn't Tucker who threw the second Ball. Danny was on a wheelchair and giggling, "DANNY!!" Tucker yelled and cried as he ran to Danny, Dante was pushing Danny's Chair and Val looked horrified and stunned and totally lost in her own world of thoughts.

"Oh wow, Dash you're face is really red! You must be very cold—" Danny says but Dante interrupts him. "He's not that cold Danny, that's just how normal humans look in the cold such as Far Frozen." Dan states whilst glaring at Dash, "yep!" Tucker agrees teasingly and hugging Danny gently.

(Dante would rather Call Vlad "Papa" first before he admits that he's Protective of Danny)

Dash just nods, "My Liege are we heading back to the Castle?" Fright Knight asks as he is kneeling in front of Danny and Dante. "Not yet. We'll stay here for the meantime as Danny is still recovering most of his Powers and Energy, as well as his ability to walk." Dante states and Fright Knight nods. "Why does Val look like that?" Dash finally asks very confusingly. "We found out me and Dante are just Adopted! And not Maddie and Jack's Real Children!" Danny casually states as he pats Cujo's head who was in his lap.

"WHAT—" dash yells unexpectedly, "SEE!! EXACTLY MY REACTION DANIEL!!" Valerie Finally speaks up still very confused and out of her logical voice of reason mode. "Yes Baxter and Foley, Our Father is a millionaire and our mother is Aunt Alicia's Best Friend who's long dead and Gone but it was said that the girl came from a very wealthy family who got accidentally pregnant and hid it from our biological Father and Her Family making her essentially run away, Aunt Alicia said that during her best friend's pregnancy she was the one to help her through everything including the birth which to this day still shocks me." Dante rolls his eyes and scoffed. "Our mother's name was Daniela! Which is probably why my name is Daniel!" Danny chuckled now loving his original name more than before.

"Aunt Alicia also stated that she loved us dearly even when we were still in the womb..." Dante says with a pained Expression and Danny holds his hand, Dante just sighs and nods. "GODDAMN. Damn... Wow. That's a lot to take i— Foley are you okay?" Dash asks and seeing tucker just fixing his glasses. "I SUSPECT YOUR FATHER IS BRUCE WAYNE—" Tucker yells out suddenly making the other 4 jump in surprise. "Impossible." Danny bluntly states not believing him at all. "Actually Daniel, according your aunt Alicia. He is your father." Vlad appeared out of nowhere fixing his tie with liptint still smudged on his cheek.

The 4 looks at him before tucker yells out, "I WAS RIIIIGHT!!"

"Ancients have mercy on me." Danny says and suffering.

"I'm gonna bury my head on the snow now" Valerie says pinching the bridge of her Nose.

Dash and Dante just stunned on the spot.

Dante looked as if he was gonna kill somebody and Dash looked like a Big Hunk of Confusion of someone about to lose consciousness.

"Who in the fuck did you make out with Vl—"

"Clockwork Dante. I made out With your Master. Why do you ask?" Vlad smirks amusingly and teasingly.

Dante scowled very upset.

"Fuck this whole thing."

Cujo barks in agreement.

[g4yforethan]

celebration

pairing: roman bridger x male!reader

summary: roman and reader have some fun after his birthday party ;)

warnings: smut, cursing, top!roman, bottom!reader

a/n: bro scott foley is so fine omfg! also roman is not the killer in this story too

"happy birthday dear roman! happy birthday to you!" everyone cheered as roman blew out his candles. it was his 30th birthday and he had invited the entire cast of his new movie, stab 3. you auditioned for the role of a side character but after roman viewed your tape, he created a new main character for you. by then, everyone knew you two had something for each other. he gets up and starts to hug everyone including you. he holds you the longest and even slips in a kiss on the cheek while everyone moves to the living room. "after they all leave, come with me to my room alright?" he whispers in your ear. you nod your head with excitement and walk to the living room and sit with sarah as she rants about how much she hates her character in the movie.

a few more hours start to pass and everyone starts to gather their things and leave. "hey y/n do you need a ride home?" jennifer asks you. "oh no i think i'm gonna stay the night here with roman." you give her a wink and she reciprocates with a silly grin on her face. you hug her and close the door and head upstairs to find roman. you walk through the upstairs area but you couldn't find roman. "roman? roman where the fuck are you?!" all of a sudden, someone in a ghostface costume comes out and grabs you from behind. you scream and elbow them in the side. roman lets out a groan and takes off the mask. "ugh roman why the fuck would you do that?! you scared the hell outta me!" he laughs and pulls you in by your waist.

"aww come on baby i was just trying to have some fun. besides, don't you think i look sexier with this shit on?" you agreed but gave roman a poker face. "whatever roman. so why the hell am i here right no-" he picks you up and starts to kiss you. his hands rub your back while yours cling onto his hair. he pushes the master bedroom door open and lays you on your back. he kisses your neck leaving several hickey marks burning into your skin. he takes off his shirt as do you. you leave scratches all over his back and he craves for more of you. "oh god roman. i want you inside me." roman gets more turned on when you whisper in his ear. he unbuckles his pants and pulls out his dick.

"put it in me baby." he smiles at you and takes off your pants. he lifts up your legs and goes down near your hole. he licks around your sensitive area which makes you moan in pleasure. "you like that baby boy?" you nod your head yes as your eyes roll back. he gets his dick and teases your hole with it. you couldn’t wait any longer. he knows this and slowly slides his dick inside you. every thrust was filled with all of roman’s love and wanting of you.

he goes even faster and faster making the pleasure unbearable but you craved it even more. you moaned and moaned so loud that you thought someone would call the police on you too. roman lays on his back as you start to ride him. you start to go fast and you stare at roman as he rolls his eyes back watching you ride his dick. “fuck yeah baby. ride my dick.” you put your fingers in his mouth and he sucks on them while you ride him. after riding, you get on all fours and roman gets behind you and you start to fuck his dick.

you both went fast which caused a choir of moans from the both of you. “fuck roman. i’m close.” “me too baby.” “cum in me.” roman heard you and did so. you felt his warm cum fill inside of you. you came not too long after and soon the two of you were laying in bed cuddling with each other. “well i hope you enjoyed your birthday present." roman laughed and gave you a kiss. "damn with this kind of present i wish it was my birthday every day then." you laughed and rolled your eyes and began to fall asleep in his arms.

[danny-phantom-x-reader]

Character of your choice! Either receiving or giving flowers!

- 💗 anon!

AWW, The Main Trio <3 Thinking of maybe writing a sick reader with character taking care of them Sorry it's kind of short

Daniel 'Danny' Fenton [Giving]

He saw them when doing ghost work and was instantly enchanted by them. They reminded him of you

He's so giddy when getting them and can't wait to give them to you

Though he does get a little nervous when giving them to you

Little did he know they were ghost flowers and would end up possessing you

He blames himself for it and decides that he'll buy you flowers from now on

Tucker Foley [Receiving]

He's fangirling

"Flowers? For me????"

He's smiling and his face is a bright red

He doesn't care what anyone says. He loves the flowers, even if the gender roles were reversed

He puts them in the prettiest vase next to his bed

He's so sad when they start to die

He'll try to save them for as long as possible, but it doesn't really work out all that well

Samantha 'Sam' Manson [Giving]

She waited to long to give them to you and they're dead

They're all sad and bent over, the leaves curled up. She's smiling awkwardly as she gives them to you

"It gives them personality!"

"Personality? Sam, they're dead."

She sheepishly laughs, "Aren't all the best things dead?"

[crazycatgirl420]

Gotham's Black Rose

Dpxdc fanfic Sam is Bruce Wayne's daughter, adopted by the Manson family. Everlasting Trio, toddler Ellie. Pharoah Tucker, Witch Sam, Space Ancient Danny, and Cujo too.

"How do you feel now?" Mrs. Foley asked, leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom.

Chapter 3: Revelation

Sam removed the tinfoil from her hair. Purple, with a smattering of black, but her hair was mainly a bright vivid purple now. Her purple contacts were back, and last night she even got her nose pierced.

"Better," Sam said. "I feel more like me now,"

"That's good," Mrs. Foley said. "Remember to clean up, dinner will be done soon and Tucker finished whatever he was doing for you,"

Hacking into the Justice League's database of DNA records, to cross-reference her DNA too. It's the largest DNA database in the world. If her biological parents were Heroes or Villians or otherwise employed by such a person then explaining the chaos that was her life would be easier. If not, then she wasn't sure if she wanted to meet them. Her life was messy and complicated and dangerous, bringing someone unprepared into her life would be an unnecessary risk.

"Thanks Mrs. Foley," Sam said. "I'll be down soon,"

-

The test finished running while they were eating. Sam and Tucker left the table, nervous and excited in equal measure.

"I can't look," Sam said, closing her eyes at the door to Tucker's office.

Tucker took her hand and pulled her in.

"No fucking way," Tucker said, pushing Sam into a rolling stool and spinning her around to face a monitor. "You're gonna wanna see this," Sam leaned back into Tucker's chest, covering her eyes with her hands.

Tucker clicked away on the keyboard, his arms loose around her shoulders.

"It's someone horrible isn't it? Like an intergalactic Tyrant or someone who hates kids or maybe someone who hates nature or magic-"

"It's Bruce Wayne,"

-

When an outsider ran a DNA test using the Justice League's database, Hero identities were locked away on a separate server and only those with Civilian identities connected to the Justice League could be found.

It was one of B's many contingencies against enemy hackers. Tim was waiting in the monitor room for Kon to finish his appointment with Canary, when a screen flashed. Tim watched as the Civilian files were shuffled through by the outsider, as the DNA sequence searched for a match. He watched as it stopped on the file of Bruce Wayne and confirmed a parental match.

Finding out who B's new mystery child is was easy. He synced to the hacker's computer, turned on the camera, and there they were. This hacker had an impressive setup, he even had audio.

"I'm a Wayne?" The purple hair girl asked, staring at the screen. "I think I'm gonna be sick,"

"Oh yeah, that's gotta be some cosmic irony or something," the hacker, leaning over the young woman's shoulder said. "An anti-capitalist and her multi-billioniare capitalist father,"

She elbowed him in the gut.

"Any idea who my mother is?"

"Nope, seems only Wayne was on this database. Your mother is probably one of the many supermodels Wayne took to bed so frequently,"

"My whole identity is a lie," the woman said. "If I decide to meet him I probably wouldn't even be an outcast anymore..."

"Wouldn't that be a good thing?"

"I don't know." She sighed. "What if I am only an activist because the ones who raised me aren't? What if I only befriended you and Danny because they didn't approve of you? What if I'm actually an entirely different person than I thought I was and I become some shallow backstabbing arrogant snob as soon as Bruce Wayne says he's proud of me for something?"

"If you don't want to meet him, you don't have too,"

"We're moving to Gotham. He's gonna be everywhere,"

"He doesn't have to know Sam," the man said. "If you're not ready we won't tell him,"

Tim pulled up the records of the woman, the unknown Wayne child, and had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. Samantha Manson, Seventeen years old, born October 13th at Gotham Private Hospital and adopted a week later from the same hospital by the Manson couple, raised in Amity Park Illinois, an average B student and an activist for nearly any cause she found. From school food to animal rights to nature preservation and restoration to illegal pride parades. She bought an apartment in Gotham near Gotham University, for her and her boyfriends Tucker Foley, Danny Fenton, and Danny's daughter Eliza.

Bruce had a completely civilian daughter. The batchat was going to freak out.

[striderl]

How does the Film industry react to the stuff that happened in Ep 70 part 3? How did Sawmus and Polaroid react to any of this?

It was a relief for the Film Industry that the Scientist Toilet got a deserved end, since he was part of the reason that their former leader Chief was gone, as well as the war dragged on for so long. 

Styrofilm showed remorse over Plunger Cam’s death, he is so far the greatest soldier that the faction has, as well as Assassin Speakerman to the speaker faction.

Gaffer was glad that the titans took care of the Scientist, one less thorn in her side as well as for the entire alliance. But she was also a bit suspicious about the broadcast constantly being cut off in the last 5 minutes. What's wrong with the signal? It was fine when the cinema cam recorded the events, why does it lag so much when Plunger is the POV?

Foley’s reaction was…rather ecstatic. He printed out a poster of the Scientist’s face just to pin it to the wall with knives, and punched it so hard that his forearm jammed into the wall. But he doesn’t care, the Scientist got a well-earned execution and Chief’s death is half reverged.

Polaroid is devastated by the news that his idol was dead before he can even meet him properly, but Sawmus advised him to look at the bright side, since one of the biggest threats to the alliance is taken down. It’s a Pyrrhic victory, a success that comes with great loss. But this is a war, units lose their lives for the greater cause, the best the rest of them can do is not leave the heroes’ sacrifices in vain.

[imekitty]

Star Error XVI

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15

Star investigates Danny’s glowing freckles.

-----

At lunchtime, Star sat with the A-Listers but could not stop herself from stealing glances at Fenton as he chatted with his friends at their own lunch table.

"Star, you down?" asked Kwan.

Star jolted and turned her face to him. "Hmm? What?"

"We're making plans for this weekend." Dash stuffed the rest of his burger into his mouth, not bothering to swallow it all before he spoke again. "And we are not going to invite Fentnerd, so if all you want to do is keep staring at him, you're gonna have to do that on your own."

"I'm not staring at him!" said Star, her eyes involuntarily darting in Fenton's direction.

Dash batted his eyes. "You're totally hypnotized by his pretty freckles."

"They're not pretty, they just glow!" whined Star.

Dash snorted. "Whatever."

"I can still get all the cheerleaders together to get back at him for humiliating you, you know," said Paulina. "Just say the word."

"He didn't humiliate me!" bleated Star.

"But he must've broken your heart," said Paulina. "Why else would you keep looking at him?"

Star shook her head and tried to think fast. "I'm only looking at him because—um—" She glanced at Fenton again, hoping to get an idea. "Because—Falluca asked me to tell Fenton that he needs to sign up for more tutoring."

"Then go." Dash used one hand to shoo her away. "Go have a nice chat with your lover boy about tutoring."

Star stuck out her bottom lip and tilted up her chin. "I will! I mean, he's not my—but I will talk to him. About tutoring. That's all. Because it'll look good on my college application."

"Yeah, that's the reason," laughed Dash.

Star glowered at him, but she could feel the heat in her cheeks. "It is!"

She jumped up from the table and left in a huff, stomping over to Fenton, who stopped talking the moment he saw her approach. Manson and Foley were also watching her.

"Hi?" said Fenton, one eyebrow quirked.

Star was at a sudden loss for words as she looked back at him. His puzzled expression was just so cute and she had not been prepared for it.

Shut up, how could she possibly think he was cute!

She shook her head and regained her composure, putting on a wily smile as she took a very deliberate seat to Fenton's right. "Heya, Fenton."

"Hey, Star!" said Foley brightly from across the table. Beside him, Manson narrowed beady eyes at her.

"Hey," said Star flatly, waving a hand in Foley's direction more to dismiss him than to greet him. She then sweetened her tone and propped her elbows on the table, clasping her hands under her chin. "So, Fenton, what are you up to?"

Fenton eyed her warily before gesturing to the lunch tray in front of him. "Eating?"

Star wrinkled her nose at the mashed potatoes and crispy chicken covered with gravy on his tray. "Ah, yes. I can see that."

"Do you need something, Star?" asked Fenton.

Star glanced at the A-List table. The A-Listers were all turned in their seats, watching her.

"As a matter of fact, yes." Star cleared her throat. "Mr. Falluca asked me to ask you why you haven't signed up for tutoring lately."

Fenton squinted one eye. "Why doesn't he just ask me himself? He's my math teacher, I see him literally every day."

"Uh, well—" Star shrugged. "He thinks I'd be better at persuading you to sign up again."

"Because we used to date?"

"Yea—no!" Star growled. "We weren't dating!"

"Then why do you care if I sign up for tutoring again?"

"I don't!" snapped Star. "I'm just asking for Falluca. It's part of my responsibilities as a math tutor."

"So do you want me to sign up for tutoring with you?" asked Fenton.

Star blushed and flicked a dismissive hand. "It doesn't have to be me. It can be any of the math tutors."

"But do you want it to be you?" cut in Foley.

Star shot Foley a nasty glare, but then she tried to relax and laugh it off. "Look, all I'm saying is, we all know that this guy—" Star elbowed Fenton just below his ribs, the same area as Phantom's injury. "—needs all the help he can get when it comes to math."

Fenton grunted and stiffened, seemingly trying to pretend that it didn't hurt at all. Star hid a smirk by scrunching her mouth into an innocent pout.

"Oh, do I now?" said Fenton through clenched teeth, his lips curved into a strained smile.

"Well, sure!" said Star. "I mean, you don't want to fail math, do you?"

"Wait, are you failing math, Danny?" asked Manson with a frown.

"Not last time I checked," said Fenton.

"Well, maybe not now," said Star, "but a lot can happen before the end of the year!"

"A lot like what?" Fenton's eyes lidded.

"You know." Star shrugged with her palms raised. "Things just come up, right? Things that distract you. Family, hobbies…" She paused, turning her head just enough to give him a side-eye. "Ghost fighting."

Fenton stayed completely still, but his eyes widened just enough that Star noticed. Foley and Manson exchanged glances that appeared quite nervous.

"Ghost fighting?" echoed Fenton.

"Yeah," said Star. "Ghost fighting's pretty big in your family, isn't it?"

"Uh…yeah," said Fenton. "My parents are into it."

"But aren't you too?" asked Star, twirling a lock of her hair. "I remember that whole thing with the pirate ghosts that took all our parents."

She also remembered just how good Fenton looked in that tight orange jumpsuit that perfectly accentuated his—

"I mean, you seemed to know what you were doing," squeaked Star, trying her best to banish the image from her head.

"But it's not a hobby for Danny or anything," said Foley.

"Yeah, he just naturally picks up on ghost-hunting tricks from his parents," said Manson.

"Is that so?" Star simpered. "Well, considering his grades, it's good to hear he's a natural at something. Right, Fenton?"

She elbowed him in the side again, this time a tad harder. Fenton's body bent with the force, a strangled sound coming from his throat held in only by his tightly pressed lips.

"I wouldn't say I'm a natural," breathed out Fenton, his voice crackly and tight.

"You're so modest," purred Star, lightly smacking his shoulder.

Manson made a face, poking her tongue out just a little through her teeth. "Okay, so are you done here now? All you wanted was to tell Danny he should sign up for tutoring again?"

"Will you?" asked Star, looking at Fenton.

"Do you want me to?" asked Fenton, sincerity in his sky blue eyes. His tousled hair seemed to float around his ears and over his forehead, looking so tuggable and soft.

Star felt warmth blooming in her cheeks as her eyes roamed his face, the thick shape of each eyebrow, the sharp jut of his nose, the sweet color of his lips—

Star forced herself to laugh, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "Hey, I don't really care. It's your math grade on the line, not mine."

Star elbowed him again, even harder than before. Fenton yelped and jumped up from the table, cradling his side with one hand as he backed away from her. He froze, then laughed, dropping his hand.

"Okay, well, maybe I'll see what's open," said Fenton, his lips twitching into a tense smile.

He stared at her, and she stared back. The image of Fenton in that tight orange jumpsuit popped up in her head again. He and Phantom had such similar physiques, but it just couldn't be, could it?

"You, uh—" Star cleared her throat. "I still get to ask you one last question, right?"

Fenton's expression turned serious. "Yes," he said softly. "Did you want to ask it now?"

Star breathed in, her lungs shaking with a feeling she didn't quite understand.

And then she heard snickering from the A-List table behind her. Her face and neck burned as she shook her head.

"Uh—no, I gotta go," said Star. "Later, geeks."

She stood and headed for the cafeteria exit, too embarrassed to return to her friends.

Part 17