#loser these days / i've been nothing like my father these days / i've been something of a liar these days / i am okay / [...]

[slashmagpie]

spotify wrapped-77?

Send me a number 1-100 and i will try to write a short fic based off whatever song that corresponds to in my spotify wrapped replay 2023!

“Oh, hello.”

The newcomer blinks. One ear twitches. Ren turns towards her, eyes wide, startled. 

“Lizzie?”

“It’s good to see you again,” says Lizzie, and she’s only a little facetious, only a little bitter.

“Where… are we?” Ren looks around. It’s dark. The void stretches on and on forever, flecked with specks of light.

“Dead,” says Lizzie dully.

“Oh.” He blinks, rubbing at his head. “I don’t know what happened, I was—I was Tango, for a bit, I think? And now—oh. Oh, I feel sick.”

“Yeah, it’ll do that to you,” she says, flicking a nail. “How’ve you been, Ren? I haven’t seen you in a while.” She stares at him through narrow eyes.

“I haven’t seen you either, my Queen,” he says with a bow. “It’s been far too long.”

She snorts. Hugs her knees to her chest. “Don’t make me laugh.”

“What did I do?”

“My Queen,” she echoes, mocking. 

“Well.” Ren hesitates. “You were.”

“Not anymore.” She reaches up, swipes her wrist across her eye. She’s not crying anymore, though. There are no tears to wipe away. It just burns. “Now I’m dead!”

“Are you okay?” Ren asks.

She laughs. “I died. It wasn’t even for my task! It wasn’t even cool! I just—I looked at an enderman—why wasn’t I wearing a bloody pumpkin?! I spent so long trying to convince Cleo to wear a pumpkin, and then I—agh. It was embarrassing. I’m an embarrassment.” She buries her face in her knees. “Don’t look at me.”

Ren is quiet. She thinks, for a moment, that he’s moved away, but then there’s a hand in her hair, and a voice saying, “I don’t think you’re an embarrassment, my Queen.”

She snorts. “Everyone else does,” she says lowly. “I died before Jimmy. Do you know how embarrassing it is to die before Jimmy? Everyone says he’s cursed! I’m just—I’m just—incompetent. And nobody even cared.”

“I care,” Ren says softly.

“You’re dead too.” She scowls into her skirt. “You weren’t even really alive.” 

“...That doesn’t mean I don’t care.” 

“You didn’t.”

“What?”

“Last time—Last Life—you—you didn’t want me anymore. And then I died. And this time—I was alone again. I thought I worked better alone. Certainly worked better than all that nonsense with the Fairy Fort. But—here I am again! Dead!” She laughs. “Stupid game. I shouldn’t have played.”

“I know the feeling, my friend.” He settles down, sitting beside her with a sigh. “It’s okay. You don’t have to play again if you don’t want to. God knows I don’t.”

She steals a sideways glance at him. “How come?”

He grimaces. “Do you know how I died last time?”

“No.”

“Grian dropped dripstone on my head. I didn’t even see it coming. It was—it was a one in a million chance, my dude, the luckiest shot in the world, and he made it. Everyone thought it was so cool. Nobody thought that it was sad that I was dead. Well, except for Grian, who thought it was sad that BigB died because of me.”

Lizzie tilts her head to the side. Peers up at him. “That must be pretty embarrassing for you, huh,” she says.

His ears flick back against his head as he sags. “So embarrassing.”

“Well…” She straightens up a little. Rubs at her eyes again. Says, “I suppose if someone must see me in such a state, it should be someone who’s just as pathetic as me.” Offers him a small smile.

“Aye, my Lady,” he says with a laugh. “What a pathetic pair we make.”

[pollymorgan]

Oh my God, how embarrassing... I did it and translated my German fanfiction into English... into bad English! Don't be too harsh on me, but rather make suggestions for improvement: So now a little phone sex with Coach Negan. 🙈😌

Warnings: arrogant Negan, frustrated woman, explicit phone sex

Today is one of those days again, where nothing seems to work as it should. Just like so often lately. Why couldn't I transfer those damn photos to the laptop? I've never been very tech-savvy, but the modern world practically forced me to. I'm actually a cookbook author and used to be quite successful with it. Some of my books were bestsellers and I even had my own cooking segment on a nationally broadcasted morning show. But then I was suddenly replaced by a younger, "cooler" colleague and ever since then, I've been struggling to keep afloat with social media, more or less. If only the technology would cooperate..

Even in my personal life, I have been replaced. Four months ago, my husband left us. By us, I mean my three children and me. After 19 years of marriage. But love goes where it goes, right? Nothing can be done against that. At least, those were his words when he got into his Porsche with a blonde woman who could be his daughter and disappeared.

Since then, he has managed to do something with his children exactly twice. But in exchange, he has already disappointed them seven times by canceling the meetings at short notice. Yes, I'm keeping count. At least for now.

My oldest daughter Penny is 15 years old and fully immersed in puberty, and it seems that this situation is hardest on her. She and her father were always a unit, his little princess. But there's no trace of that at the moment. Most of the time, he doesn't even bother to answer his damn phone when she tries to reach him.

I see her suffering. She's lost interest in school, and her circle of friends is dwindling visibly. I would love to help her, but how? At the moment, I just can't seem to reach her. Our communication mostly consists of doors slamming.

But back to my current problem. These damn pictures! The article is supposed to go online today. I cooked an Indian dish and had to drive halfway across town to get these damn spices. Thursdays always bring an international post, and now, of all times, nothing is working again. My laptop doesn't recognize the memory card, and the camera won't connect either. I keep plugging and unplugging the cable, hoping the error will magically resolve. Which of course it doesn't. Suddenly, I glance at the small display in the lower right-hand corner. Damn it! So late. I won't be picking up the kids on time again, the second time this cursed week. Annoyed, I close the screen. Grabbing my purse, I walk quickly to the garage. Where's the damn car key? Nervously, I rummage through my chaotic bag, spilling half of its contents on the floor. Finally finding it, I get into the car and speed out of the driveway.

The first stop is the kindergarten to pick up my youngest. She's a real bundle of nerves, but so sweet that you can forgive her anything. Of course, she throws a tantrum right at pickup. It's a real struggle to get her into the car. Like a madwoman, I drive on to the elementary school to pick up my 9-year-old son. He is the calm one in our family and thankfully waits with his best friend relaxed in front of the school. At least one who's not mad at me. Lucky me. And off we go, heading to my daughter's high school. From a distance, I can see her and immediately know that - once again - something is wrong. She stands all alone and pretty annoyed on the street, looking out for me. When I park the car right in front of her feet, she angrily drops onto the passenger seat.

"Penny, I can explain, you know what a loser I am when it comes to technology..." I try to justify myself.

My eldest rolls her eyes in annoyance. "Mum, this time, for once, it's not your fault..." I see tears forming in the corners of her eyes, and automatically, I feel a lump in my throat.

"Mister Smith... he..."

She doesn't need to continue speaking; just hearing that name fills me with such anger again. Right from the start, there have been issues with her physical education teacher, Negan Smith.

I've only seen him twice so far, at parent-teacher conferences, but Penny's stories are enough for me to know that he's an absolute failure as a teacher. He has his favorites whom he praises to the skies, while the less athletic students suffer under his authoritarian ways. My daughter already feels uncomfortable in her own skin, and that jerk doesn't even realize the impact his remarks have on the young girls.

A few years ago, his wife passed away from cancer. A terrible tragedy, but apparently that did not make him more empathetic; quite the opposite.

I'm currently looking in the rearview mirror to avoid hitting anyone in the chaos outside the school. That's all I need on this crappy day. Then I catch sight of none other than Penny's physical education teacher.

"Isn't that him?" I ask excitedly.

My daughter buries her face even further into the backpack in her lap. "Yes, Mom, it's okay, please just drive..."

The anger that had been building up recently had just found a good release.

With the words "Nothing is good...", I yank open my driver's door and head purposefully towards my daughter's physical education teacher, who is just stowing his bag in his car.

"Who do you think you are?" I stand behind him with arms crossed, eagerly awaiting his reaction.

Confused, he turns around to face me and suddenly a big grin spreads across his face. "Negan Smith, nice to meet you, and who do I have the pleasure of speaking with?"

What a cocky jerk!

"The mother of a rather offended young girl, because of you..."

Can't he just drop his arrogant smile for once? Quite unimpressed, he closes the door of his car.

"Penny has so much potential and she's wasting it on the damn bench..."

Such an idiot, he clearly knows who I am.

"Maybe you should listen to the young students as well, instead of just spouting off random remarks at them?"

Amused, he shakes his head. "I did... her excuse for skipping today's P.E. class was menstrual cramps..."

"And in your opinion that's not a valid reason or what? How dare you even pass judgment on that? Your students' bodies are going through changes and such discomforts should be taken seriously..." I respond a bit too loudly, causing some students to turn towards us.

Resigned, he raises his hands. "Of course, but not every damn other week. Maybe you should give your daughter some biology lessons again and explain to her that her P.E. teacher isn't completely from another planet."

Oh God, what does this man think he is..

"And you should work on your teaching skills... Otherwise, maybe I should consider contacting the school board!"

„Oh wow, you're actually a bigger drama queen than your dear daughter!".

Did he really just say that? Did he just seriously insult me? My daughter's teacher. I look at him in disbelief, but he just grins.

"And now she's quiet... I really have to go now, but I'm pretty sure we'll meet again soon." With these words, he jumps into his car and drives off.

Completely perplexed, I walk back to my car and am greeted by my daughter with the words "That was soooo embarrassing.."

7 hours later

Finally peace! Why does it always have to be such a struggle to get the kids to bed? Isn't it unfair that you are a thousand times more tired than the dear little ones? What a crappy day! I'm glad to be freshly showered in my bed and finally have some time off. Just me and my phone, no one else. No more whining, arguing, and crying. As much as I sometimes curse technology, I also love being able to connect with people over the internet. It's fun to respond to comments, the direct exchange with like-minded people is the only positive thing about social media. As I scroll through Instagram, I suddenly see comments coming in at a rapid pace. Confused, I open them. From "Do you always look so good when you cook?" to "Can you cook that for me sometime?" to heart emojis, and they all come from the same account. As I read the name, a shock runs through me. Can this be for real? "Coach Negan" is he not only a tactless asshole, but also a real psychopath? Excited, I click on his account, but apart from a profile picture where he is clearly recognizable, there is no further information.

I quickly open the messaging function and type "What is this???" into my phone. It only takes a few seconds and I receive a response.

"I am a fan 😉"

For a while, I stare at the screen, unable to believe what is happening here.

Suddenly, he sends me a picture. I open it and see a photo of me from my highlights, showing me from my post "Valentine's Day." I had cooked a three-course meal and written a pretty cheesy text back then. It's one of my most liked posts.

"Red lipstick suits you. Matches your fiery nature.." he writes.

What does he want to achieve? Did the confrontation before school hurt him so much that he is trying to provoke me? But to be honest, it seems like he's the one giving me a warning. Well, but if there's one thing I've learned, it's that the best defense is a good offense.

"Oh, do you think so? Most men say I look better without wearing anything...I mean, without lipstick, of course.. 😉".

"Are you already in bed?" he asks next. What a bizarre situation? Why does my daughter's teacher want to know where I am? The same teacher who called me a ‚drama queen‘ just a few hours ago.

I keep trying to type a suitable response on my phone and then delete it again. Finally, I write briefly, "Yes, and you?"

"Yes, and I'm studying your profile. Do you realize how crazy you can drive a man with these pictures? Why am I even asking, of course you do. 😉"

The feeling of small electric shocks runs through my body. The whole thing feels strangely forbidden. Maybe what I'm doing here is damn wrong, but right now, the consequences seem pretty irrelevant to me.

"How mean, you can look at my pictures, but you don't have any online yourself."

"That's true, but how about you hear my voice instead?" Attached to this message was his phone number. Okay, this is all moving pretty quickly, in a pretty strange direction. I'm so excited that I can feel my heart pounding wildly in my chest. But what do I have to lose? I haven't felt like this in the last 20 years. Okay, it's a damn bizarre situation, but I'm an adult and single. So I can finally talk to whoever I want. Even with the biggest jerk I've come across lately.

Feeling totally tense, I dial the number and as it rings, it gets even worse. I take a few deep breaths, and suddenly the deep voice on the other end answers with a "What took you so long to decide?" and I can practically feel his grin.

"Well, I had to think for a moment about what would be so sensible about calling my daughter's narcissistic gym teacher in the middle of the night," I say calmly.

"And what would be sensible about that?" he asks with interest.

"I haven't really found a solid reason yet, but maybe you can tell me?"

He thinks for a moment, and I imagine him lying in his bed. A slight tingling sensation spreads in my stomach, which is intensified by his response.

"Well, I can make sure you feel a little better... forget all the everyday crap that's weighing on your pretty shoulders right now."

I briefly close my eyes to focus more on his voice, which really manages to relax me a bit with just that simple sentence.

"And how do you plan to do that?" I ask softly.

"When was the last time you were really well fucked?" As soon as he says it, my lower abdomen tightens, and I automatically press my legs together.

After I take a moment to collect myself, I honestly respond, "That was much too long ago..."

"Oh, poor girl," Negan provocatively replies, but instead of getting upset about it, it triggers completely different feelings in me. "Tell me about what you imagine when you stroke your lonely pussy at night."

I have to swallow briefly to get rid of the extremely dry feeling in my throat.

"I can tell you what I think about when I do it in a moment..." I say softly but firmly.

And his tone changes too. His breathing becomes heavier. "Then tell me, come on," he commands.

"I imagine it's your fingers running over my body and finally sliding my panties to the side and penetrating deep into me..." My cheeks feel like they're glowing. I've never talked like this with anyone before, and now I just did it with a man who is actually a stranger to me.

"Come on, sweetheart... touch yourself for me and tell me if you're wet," he interrupts.

Without thinking, I click on the speaker icon on my display and place the phone next to me on the pillow, then I slide my right hand under my nightgown into my panties and I'm surprised at how aroused I already am, how swollen my clit is, and how sensitive my whole intimate area has become. I sigh softly.

"Fuck, the sweet little sounds you're making... they make my damn cock twitch in my hand with joy..."

Just the thought that he's so aroused by me on the other end sends waves of pleasure through my body.

"I'm already so wet because of you, Negan..." I admit breathlessly.

"You dirty, pretty lady, if I were with you right now, I would slowly penetrate deep into you... you need that now, don't you?"

"Yes!" I can only whisper.

"Okay, now do everything exactly as I tell you, understood?" he demands.

"Yes, please tell me what to do.." I focus solely on his voice, completely tuning out everything else.

"Take off your panties. Use your index and middle fingers to gently stroke over your mons pubis and then slowly over your outer labia, but not more, just right there.."

Immediately, I follow his instructions. The air feels cool on my bare lower abdomen. I feel strangely exposed, even though I am alone in my bedroom, but it's not uncomfortable, quite the opposite. I begin to caress myself gently.

"How does that feel?" his voice breaks the silence again.

"Good, but I want more.." I plead.

"I already knew that.. Bend your legs and spread them wide.. as far as you can.." He gives me a brief moment to comply with his instructions. "Now push your pelvis even further forward.. Imagine I'm between your legs and you want to present me with your beautiful pussy, you would like that, wouldn't you?"

"Yes.." I say and nod vigorously, even though no one can see me.

"Such a good girl.. and now run your index finger through your slit, spread your juices.."

I can't and don't want to hold back my moans now. There is silence for a while at the other end, then I speak heavily.

"Are you also pleasuring your cock for me?" I ask as I continue to touch myself.

"Oh, sweetheart, so your thoughts are currently only about that.." he says snappily. "Yes, I am, and if you keep moaning so sweetly into the phone, it won't be long, so it's time for you to start massaging your clit, but don't be too timid, circle it with two fingers and use some pressure, even if you're very sensitive now, you can take it.."

Oh God, that was exactly what I needed right now. My body felt like in ecstasy and I could feel the orgasm slowly building up.

"Don't come yet," he commanded, and on cue, I immediately removed my fingers from my most sensitive spot.

"Now, bring your knees close to your body!“

"Yes," I replied, completely exhausted. "You're doing it perfectly, how much I would love to see you in this position right now, just the damn thought!" I could clearly hear him softly moaning. This sound made my body twitch with excitement.

"Penetrate yourself with two fingers... nice and slow. Focus entirely on the feeling of stretching your pussy wide... Tell me when you're all the way in!"

"Now," I whispered, already quite spent.

"Then add your ring finger, once you've done that, you can come intensely as a reward, I promise."

Slowly, I press the third finger into me, which initially causes a bittersweet pull, but I'm so wet that it's not a problem.

Without me telling him, Negan knows that I fulfilled his request.

"So perfect, sweetheart! And now, pleasure your clit! Bring yourself to climax and don't hold back any sound, I want to hear every sweet noise from you."

With the first gentle touch, my body twitches like crazy.

"Negan, please come with me," I stammer into the phone.

"Yes, I promise, beautiful," he replies breathlessly.

And these words are enough for me to come as intensely as I haven't in the past years. My thighs tremble uncontrollably and my heart almost jumps out of my chest. My lower abdomen contracts in waves and I can barely breathe. It feels like I am weightless for a few seconds.

"Do you feel good?" he asks after a short pause.

"Perfect.." I reply and can't gather my thoughts yet.

"Okay, then I expect you tomorrow at 3:30 p.m. for a parent-teacher meeting at the school, and, by the way, without panties.. Good night!" After these words, I only hear a beep on the line.

[eleanorfenyx]

I have finished Mysterious Lotus Casebook, and here are some of my thoughts! (Obviously not spoiler free)

The cases are absolutely batshit insane and I loved it every single time they were like 'we totally collected this evidence that incriminates a secret suspect, just believe us and also don't question when the fuck we had the time to do this or when we figured out that we needed to look for it'. 10/10 no notes, that's a hilarious way to have a genius detective. Show us nothing, tell us everything, YES king.

That being said, I could have done with a lot less standing around having the supporting cast repeat whatever Li Lianhua and Fang Duobing announce, maybe in an attempt to make sure their genius is clear for the audience? I get it, but at the same time it felt a little too hand-holdy for me, especially in scenes where LLH and FDB had already discussed their findings between themselves before presenting them to the concerned bystanders. I can read between the lines (or else understand what has just been explicitly stated) without having every conclusion filtered through a slightly different sentence structure to make sure I got it.

Di Feisheng amnesia arc my fuckin beloved

Di Feisheng destroying his 'father' and freeing everyone in Di manor in a vicious act of catharsis that tied nicely into the main Nanyin bug-mind-control-thing narrative my beloved

Di Feisheng my beloved

The amount of times I was like...genuinely surprised he and Li Lianhua didn't kiss is both embarrassing (because I do in fact understand censorship and what I sign up for with these dramas and yet and yet) and numerous enough that I could...possibly...theoretically..write a 5+1 fic of every time I want them to kiss about it. No one hold me to that but it's something I think I'd like to do.

Re: the above point: because what the FUCK was that ending?!!! EXCUSE ME?! I gotta FIX THAT SHIT.

There will come a day when the strength of my hope for an unambiguously happy ending in a queer(-coded? is the source originally bl or is this its own thing?) wuxia drama is rewarded....but it is not this day. I must fix this myself.

Jiao Liqiao's laugh is one of the most annoying things I've ever heard. I was reaaaaally hoping someone would just up and stab her during one of her little evil laughing fits. At one point I was shouting "KILL HER, KILL HER" at my screen because I could NOT take anymore of her (unfortunately, I did in fact have to take more of her).

I still think her insistence on being obsessed with DFS is hysterical when he is so VISIBLY only interested in LLH. Explicitly STATES that his only life purpose is to fuck fight LLH again. Babygirl (derogatory) he is so fucking gay let's get you a nice knife to the gut instead, okay?

I thought the whole Shan Gudao plot was interesting, going from looking desperately for his body -> putting him to rest -> hunting for his murderer -> finding out he's alive/the mastermind behind everything going wrong (which I was proud of myself for realizing before the reveal, I'm normally bad at that) -> thwarting him with sass and superior martial arts at every possible turn -> killing him stone fuckin dead with beginner level skills because he's so up his own hole he can't see that's what's happening - was really fun!

He also has a SUPER annoying laugh he can fuck off

OH OH OH MARTIAL ARTS SKILL OF TRANS YOUR GENDER?! I MARRIED HER SO HER AFFAIRS ARE MY BUSINESS NOT YOURS??? ASKING YOUR WIFE FOR HER FORGIVENESS AND UNDERSTANDING AS YOU LAY DYING AND SHE GIVES IT TO YOU?????? OKAYYYYYYY

The twist at the end that LLH is the one with royal blood was so funny to me. Like it's a good twist and I love that Shan Gudao was just quite literally always a fuckin try-hard loser in ways he didn't even know, but also it was SO funny. Granny coming in clutch at the last fuckin minute with secret knowledge she just literally never shared.

LLH is such a smooth motherfucker. Shame about his insistence on dying when quite literally everyone (bar the people who suck) is begging this man to just live. Just LIVE DAMN IT!!!!! I really liked it when FDB begs him to just consider his own life as important for ONCE and remember that people care about him because YES his self-sacrificing and committment to Chilling Out Farmer Style was not the mercy he thought it was!

LIVE AND GROW OLD WITH DI FEISHENG YOU DAMN IDIOT (the likelihood of me resisting the urge to write at least the one fic for them is zero to none)

Unironically love spitting up blood as a plot device and this show is no different. The Drama. The Panache. The desperation of everyone around you because you have BLOOD coming out of your MOUTH and you are FAINTING. Poison acting up? Spit blood. Someone bitch slap you with their magical palm ability? Spit blood. Get stressed? Spit blood. Get stabbed? Spit blood. It's always good!

Okay I think that might be all I've got for now, if I think of anything else I'll add them in a reblog. I thoroughly enjoyed it, would definitely recommend!

[misguidedasgardian]

The White Dragon (16)

16. Sow what you planted

MASTERLIST

Summary: You visit your sister in Dragonstone

Pairings: main Harwin Strong x Fem!Targaryen reader

Warnings: cursing, medieval and A song of ice and Fire AU customs. Targaryen incest!. political plotting, again talks about underage people getting married, talk about people getting killed. Hinted at minors engaging in sexual activities. Skin trade. 

+18, MINORS DNI

Wordcount: 2.5 k, sorry, it is very short.

Notes: I was planning on doing another timelapse but I decided to write one more chapter in this time lapse, the three more years will be added in the next! 

“How is the King, sister?”, asked Rhaenyra, as she sat down to have a private supper with her sister and her husband

“Bed Bound, i’m afraid”, you answered with a sad smile on your lips, “I believe it’s a good time for your return to court”

“Father will never allow it”, she whispered

“Father wishes for nothing more but to see you”. You responded, knowing it to be true

“After I give birth I will visit him”, she confided 

“Very good”, you smiled

“I heard congratulations are in order, you yourself gave birth a couple of weeks ago”, said Daemon

“Yes, a boy, we name him Vaegor”, you said, with a smile pulling at your lips at the thought of your baby

“Is the little fellow alright?”, asked Daemon, “we heard concerning rumors”, you chuckled

“He is perfectly fine, everyone is freaking out because he has a tuft of silver hair in the midst of his dark brown locks, nothing more”

“Really? that’s unusual”, muttered Rhaenrya

“But he is a perfectly fine baby”, you said, “he has lilac eyes, like our ancestors, and like Saera”

“I haven’t met my niece either”, Rhaenyra said, his lips in a thin line

“You know I prefer to travel in dragonback, and they are too young yet for a day long journey in boat”

“We will see them both when we visit”, cheered Daemon

“How are the council meetings?”, she asked then

“Very peaceful, I’d say, it’s always a struggle of power with Alicent, but I've managed to concede in some decisions and fight her where I can still please her, and she is content in working with me”.

“I don’t understand why she sits in the small council anyways”. bitted Daemon

“Because she is the wife of the king”, you said simply, “and she is terribly involved in matters of state by now, and started at the side of the King with his permission and blessing”

“And you can’t do anything to keep her out of there?”

“I’m afraid that in that battle I will be the sore loser, specially since she outranks me and I don’t have complete support in the small council”, yous aid back

“You don’t have…? then what have you been doing?”

“Theya re afraid of me!”, you said, outraged, “But I cannot dismiss members of the small council and replace them with persons of my liking sadly, what would you have me do? have them killed?”

“I’m sure you can make them look like an accident”

“Uncle”, you warned, “If you don’t like the way I do things you were asked a thousand times to go back to court and you never did! And Rhaenyra held that position and she let it go willingly, so before you can judge why don’t you do something for once?”, you said with venom

“Your father won’t see me, specially after I married his daughter”

“I guess that you depend on me then”. you said firmly, “I could not found a way to replace members of the small council on my own, I don’t have the majority but I’m certain that Rhaenyra’s name is always mentioned”

“As long as you are there, they won’t try anything, we have the city watch, and more dragons”

“And Lord Beesbury”, you whispered, “and many others at court”

“What we ask of you is that you keep your alliances with Dorne and the North”

“I do”, you assured them, “In fact i’ve been exchanging letter with Cregan Stark, he has a daughter, of five and ten, we were talking about we meet, so my sons might know her, and perhaps form an alliance”, you said then, “i haven’t said anything to any of them because i wanted it to happen naturally, so we are plotting what could be the best time to introduce them”

“What about a tourney?”

“Nobody can see the King in his state”, you said bitterly, “he almost lost an eye, so we haven’t celebrated anything grand this part years”

“I see”, grumbled Daemon

“So you should travel as soon as you are able to King’s Landing, to ease our father’s mind”, you said

“We will, dear sister”, she promised 

At the hour of the owl, four wretched men gather to discuss matters of most importance to their personal agendas. Otto Hightower, Hand of the King, Tyland Lannister, master of ships, Jasper Wyld, master of laws, and the Grand Maester Orwyle

“Gentlemen”, said Otto, sitting at the head of the small council table. “Should we begin?”

“I thought we will never…”, laughed Tyland Lannister

“This of course is a matter of ultimate secrecy, about how we are going to put Aegon, the rightful heir to the seven Kingdoms, in the Iron Throne”

“In this room alone, we control the second largest fleet in the seven Kingdom, the treasure, and three grown dragons”, continued Tyland

“They have dragons, the princess had also dragons”, said the Grand Maester 

“Three full grown dragons by my account, we have Vhagar, the largest dragon in the world”, said Otto

“the Princess has Vhaelar, her little brat managed to tame Vermithor, together they could take on Vhagar, and they alone have two more grown dragons, and Rhaenyra’s bastards have another 3”, continued the Maester, “without counting the Queen who never was, she had Meleys”

“Baby dragons”, fighted Otto

“Fire breathing, riding dragons”, fought Tyland

“Then we need to gain the younger princess as an ally”, said Otto, “there is an old resentment against Rhaenyra and we need to exploit it, turn her to our side”

“She will never turn her back on her sister, she has forgiven her too much already”, said Jasper Wylde, “she is here because she is guarding Rhaenyra’s position”

“Perhaps she is guarding her own position, have any of you given it any thought that perhaps she wants the throne for herself?”, tried Tyland

“She doesn’t, she want to go back to that gods forsaken castle and live in the country like a common folk”, said the Grand Maester

“That is very naive to believe,” said Tyland

“But it’s true”, said Otto, “When we place the crown in Aegon’s head, and after she bends the knee, she and her family will return to that palace when they could live happily ever after”

“Princess Aemma is set to wed Prince Aemond”, said Wyld

“So we must press the wedding, to be celebrated as soon as possible”, Otto said

“The girl is ten!”, said Orwyl 

“When they are wed, she will commit to her husband, she won’t turn her back on him”

“She is an important part of this whole ordeal, that we can’t let in the wind, we need to be certain”

“The new maester they brought in is helping the King, let’s hope that he leaves us, after they marry”

“One girl and one dragon won’t tip the scales”

“If we have Aemma we have the Princess”, said Tyland

“If we have the Princess we will have the throne, we will have the North and Dorne, and four dragons”

“Aemma, then, is the key”

“She is the Key”

“Let’s keep discussing other key elements of our difficult endeavor”, said Otto

“The treasury will be divided”, said Tyland

“That is too dangerous”, observed the master of laws

“We will take out of the capital in cradled separately, and to be placed in custody in Casterly Rock”

“That is very easy for you, wouldn't it be?”, mocked Wyld 

“What do you propose?”

“We place it on a ship”, said Otto, “sailed not only by Lannisters, but by hightowers too, that way, when Aegon is on the throne, we will sail it safely back to King’s Landing”

“What about the Velaryons?”, asked the Maester, “What about the dragon, they could sink the ship, and then the treasure will be lost!”

“Good point”, muttered Otto

“One piece will travel by land, and the other in a guarded ship, the third part, will be guarded in the citadel”

“Gentlemen, shall we continue?”

“Now, the City watch, is an army of 3.000 men, all faithful to Daemon Targaryen and Harwin Strong…”

“We need to replace captains, for those who are faithful to us instead” 

“That could be proven difficult to achieve without being noticed, but I’m aware many of them would turn the cloak with enough coins in their pockets…”

“Luckily we hold the treasury”, laughed Tyland

“What about the Queen?”

“What about her?”

“Do we have her support?”

“Let’s not be hasty”, pressured Otto, “She is confident in Rhaenyra succeeding Viserys, and cling to Rhaenyra’s mercy regarding her children”

“Then we need to break how little the Queen still trust Rhaenyra, we need to exploit the tension between them”

“And how we are going to do that?”

“Your little grace is lucky!”, chided a dragon master, as he adjusted the new saddle on Vermithor, with the animal grumbling under his hands, “the old saddle was like 50 years old, it was a luck that had kept in place this long, and even more that had kept you in place and not throw you when you rode Vermithor for the first time”

“I’m sorry”, she whispered, her hands behind her back and her big puppy eyes looking at him. The dragon master immediately smiled

“You were lucky, but now you have an entirely new saddle, fit for your small size”,

“Yeih!”, she cheered. The saddle was finally adjusted, it took like 5 dragon masters to put it in place, it was beautiful, with dark brown leather and bronze details, very adjusted and safe for Aemma. “thank you is beautiful”

“Anything for a young rider”

“Now you are ready to fly freely”, you said, Aemma looked back and smiled

“Look mommy”

“It’s beautiful”, and then you looked at the master, “kirimvose, iksan isse aōha gēlȳn”, you said in HIgh Valyrian [thank you, i am in your debt] 

“Īles iā rigle, aōha dārōñe”, [It was an honor, your grace]

The master left you, and you admired Vermithor closely, it was a magnificent beast, almost a hundred years old if your calculations were right, he was born to King Jeahearys in his cradle. It’s bronze and old scales shone under the sun, he was beautiful

“lo ao rughagon ñuha tala kesan zālagon ao se emagon cannibal ipradagon ao”, you threatened, and he roared softly [if you drop my daughter I will burn you and have Cannibal eat you] “mīsagon zirȳla, brāedāzma vēdros, nyke beg hen ao, issa iā gentle dārilaros hen sȳz vyguēsin”, [protect her, bronze fury, i beg of you, she is a gentle princess of kind nature], you whispered near his snout as you pet him 

He seemed to answer you with soft growls, and a final purr

“What did you say?”, Aemma asked softly, “I only caught a little bit”

“That’s between me and your dragon”, you smiled softly at her.

And now you flew away from King's Landing, you riding over your children keeping an eye on them, Aemma on the huge beast, who was as big as Vhaelar, Maekar in Aerion and Rhaegar in Karnax, small dragons in comparison, but they were going to grow even larger you hoped. And even over you, was the monstrous Vhagar, the dragon of your nightmares, who could eat you all if he proposed so. You never had those nightmares again but only the Gods know what they meant, if they meant anything at all

Your return to King’s Landing was just in time for the celebration of the thirteen name day of Prince Aemond 

You had asked the boy if he wanted to celebrate it with a tourney or whatever he preferred, something you could put past the King. But he denied you. Instead you decided to tell your children to be by his side the entire day, and that way he seemed to enjoy it.

Aemond was a serious little kid, and that didn’t surprise you, considering what he had been through. 

So you made sure he had a gift, you went to see your father so he could tell you what he wanted to gift him, and you, with help of Steffon, managed to acquire it. A beautiful crafted sword. Aemma asked you to make her own gift.

This day was about him.

So he took a long dragon ride with his siblings and nephews, and you packed lunch for them to eat in their adventures. And when they returned, a feast with their family was expecting him

He seemed happy, the little boy. You had given up on Aegon, and his taste for wine, but you didn’t want to give up on Aemond. 

You ordered the Kitchens to bake him a huge cake, and his favorite dishes. You even managed to bring your father in. Who prepared a toast to honor his second son. 

Alicent grabbed your arm softly

“I’m glad you are here”, she whispered, “I’m glad you are in the small council, and I’m glad Rhaenyra has you too, with you by her side she is going to be a great Queen”, you smiled warmly at her

“We are going to create a beautiful and united family, all of us”, you said. “Aemond is growing to be a very smart and dedicated man, I’m sure he will achieve great things”

“With Aemma by his side”, and you toasted to that between the two of you

When the feast ended, Aegon grabbed the arm of his little brother, as he dragged him out the hallways and out of the Red Keep, only with Ser Erryk by their side

“Where are we going?”, he asked serious, trying not to show how scared he was

“You are thirteen now, brother, It’s time to get it wet” 

Aegon took him to a pleasure house, the boy already knew what that was about, his older brother already telling him everything about his scandalous nights in King’s Landing by himself. 

He was only a boy, but Aegon made sure that by the end of the night, he wasn’t as such anymore.

He was left confused, of the pleasure he felt, but also, how unprepared he was, and without being able to admit it, how scared and disgusted. He sat in the gardens the next day, not quite understanding what had happened to him. He didn’t feel any different, but he was left with a strange fear of ever venturing beyond the Castle walls at night. He bitterly remembered every detail and street that took him to that ordinary house with double doors, sadly, the only thought gave him chills, he would never let Aegon drag him out of the Keep again. 

And then Aemma showed up. With her chubby face, her silvery hair in Strong curls, and those eyes, and dimples in her cheeks. 

“Hey uncle Aemond, would you like to play with me?”, she asked

“I don’t play any longer”, he said bitterly

“But we played all the time!”, she muttered

“I’m a man now, not longer a boy, I can’t play silly games”

“Oh alright uncle Aemond, I’m sorry”, she said

“And you now are a dragon rider, the rider of Vermithor, King Jaehaerys’ dragon, you can’t keep playing silly games either”

“I guess you are right my prince”, she said, trying to fix her posture, feeling strange under the boy’s hard gaze, “I’m sorry”, and when she turned around and Aemond saw her walking away from him, he did want to chase her like he did when they played silly games. 

More notes: So we know how things are, despite all her best efforts Otto won't take a hint that greedy bastard.

I wrote an entire chapter... well, not yet a chapter but several pages about jealous Aemond when the heir of Driftmark is put in question 😂😂

Taglist! ❤️

@tearsarcane @integra1127 @aestmilky @thanyatargaryen @tythaitie @lostinworldofdarkness @voodoogoul @wildmindedbeauty32 @lil-pudd @alicattx @electric-bloo @astaaan-lol @stargaryenx @kaitieskidmore1 @bregarc @lilpnd @jcpenneyyy @janelei @fexibau @ladyoakenshield157 @danielle-leah1997 @lady-ragnvindr @cecilyjmorgenstern @omgsuperstarg @bugheadskid @batprincess1013 @her-fandom-sanctum @holb32 @blue1006 @stargaryenx

[written-in-the-stars135]

helloo! just gonna dump a few questions rq C:

favorite color?

favorite book/show/movie/video game/non video game?

thoughts on pineapple pizza?

do you have any ocs? if so, would you mind yapping about them and telling me everything 👀

hope you're having an amazing day holly!! :D

Hi!!

I love purple

Oooh... for books I just really like Stormlight. Despite how little I post about it the cosmere is my main interest. I like the owl house (TV show) and for games it has to be undertale.

I've never tried it but I don't trust it lol

I doo!!! I have 2 main ones rn. I will warn you I may never stop talking if I start-

Yap under the cut

So the two main main ones are named Kahza and Kavinn. (Lore incoming)

So about 100 years before the plot Kahza’s country got into a war that broke a very tenuous treaty everyone was a part of. Due to the other country having better trade routes and stronger connections they got aid from most everyone else leaving Kahza’s people (Hivaz) too disadvantaged to win. So they lost a good half of their territory and were pushed into the dessert part of their land. As well as all ties with other nations being cut.

so for that 100 year gap the Hivaz have been preparing for a war. Kahza’s father was a general and Kahza strives to live up to him. She has a passion for her country and the concept that the war is about justice.

But there are a few problems. While she was recently promoted she is paired up with her ex. Their relationship is tense but both of them are good commanders and kahza doesn't want to cause a stir so she goes with it. And she not generally well regarded by her peers. She often comes off as cold and uncaring. She also tends to be more formal then necessary giving people a bad impression of her.

But once she gets on to the field a darker side of the war shows itself. The two generals kill an Ambassador during a diplomatic meeting. And most attacks are on civilians with no army in sight. But her mind is made up this is for her country for justice. Until something changes.

She meets Kavinn when he saves her life. She finds him in a later battle but let's him go telling him that she's repaying the favor.

Meanwhile Kavinn's country joins the war after their allies Ambassador is killed. He does not want to fight, he plans with one of his few friends to desert. Then he finds a survivor in one of the wrecked towns and he makes a last minute decision to stay.

through a long series of encounters and events Kahza decides to give information to Kavinn's country (Havalinia). That way the war will end swiftly and less casualties on both sides. And os that way she can get a better treaty for her people.

All the while tensions brew with her Co-comander (Vixtilian) wich results in a duel where the loser gets demoted. Kazha wins and gets someone else to work with her. As they work together Kahza sees her growth as a person.

Through long late night conversations after giving information Kahza befriends Kavinn and the two find they have far more in comon then they ever assumed.

Kavinn ends up severely injured in the last main battle and Kahza risks revealing her treachery to save him. The injury leaves him crippled and since he had nothing else other than his military job he doesn't know what will come next.

After the war ends with Kahza losing she returns home with Kavinn planning to live together. But she still has to tell her parents and best friend from home. She explains what she did and they basically disown her. Soon after she gets promoted. So the ending is a little bitter sweet

there are more specific scenes but I thought that may be TMI

[raaorqtpbpdy]

Team Phantom's Official-Unofficial Medic

Thanks to seeing how football injuries are treated, as well as a general interest in first-aid, Dash finds himself incidentally helping out an injured Phantom. After a while, Phantom starts to seek Dash out when he needs first-aid. But eventually he comes to Dash with injuries way beyond the scope of Dash's first-aid knowledge, and all he can do is his best.

Based on the prompts: Thanks to seeing how various injuries are treated as a member of the football team, Dash actually has a decent background in first aid and anatomy. He gets adopted into Team Phantom when circumstances keep leading him to be the one patching up Phantom after fights. [from Cake], and Identity reveal. Dash finds out Danny is Phantom. What happens? Could be swagger bishie or not, either or is okay. [from @q-gorgeous]

As per the second prompt, this fic could be interpreted as swagger bishie, or as platonic. It just kinda happened that way lol.

Also, not gonna lie, Dash is a bit of a freak in this one.

Read also on AO3

[Warnings for blood, injuries, gore, suturing, medical procedures, mild romanticizing of the aforementioned, implied dissection, near-death experiences, and Dash's shitty father]

Dash... wasn't really sure how it happened, honestly. One day, he'd been one of a hundred people who supported the town hero, Phantom. Basically nothing more than a fanboy. And the next he'd seemingly become Team Phantom's go-to guy for first aid.

He guessed it started when he happened to pass by an alleyway biking home from football practice, and doubled back upon seeing something glowing green in the shadowy space between two buildings. He'd thought it was some ghost lying in wait to attack and wanted to be sure. It wasn't.

In the alleyway, Danny Phantom was sitting on an overturned crate with the top half of his jumpsuit pulled down, bleeding badly from a wound on his side. Manson and Foley, Fenton's loser friends, were next to him—though Fenton himself wasn't there. The two of them looked to be holding a couple rolls of bandages and some antiseptic, but they were arguing quietly about how to use them while Phantom kept cursing and asking them to please just do something to stop the bleeding already, because he couldn't keep losing ectoplasm like this.

Dash didn't exactly consider himself to be a good Samaritan, and he wasn't the most compassionate guy in general, but he did like to show off, and he wasn't going to leave his celebrity crush bleeding out in some dirty alleyway. Luckily, he kept a small first-aid kit in his back-pack because Manson and Foley did not have all the materials they needed to patch up a gash like that.

"Hey," Dash called out, first-aid kit already in hand. "You two losers obviously don't know what you're doing. Give me the bandages and get out of my way."

"And a meathead like you is gonna know any better than us?" Manson jeered, obviously skeptical.

"I'm a football player," Dash scoffed back. "I've seen injuries a lot worse than this get patched up, and I know how it's done. Just give me the bandages."

She raised an eyebrow, but handed over the roll of bandages she was holding. Dash started by quickly cleaning his hands with hand-sanitizer. It wasn't as good as a proper wash, but it would do. His own first aid kit had alcohol wipes to properly clean the wound, something Manson and Foley hadn't thought to get, apparently.

"This'll sting," Dash said. "I mean, if you feel pain. From what I've read, there still doesn't seem to be a professional consensus on whether ghosts feel pain, but you would know better than I would."

Phantom hissed through gritted teeth when Dash started to wipe away the excess ectoplasm and clean the wound. Dash wasn't sure if that meant he actually felt pain, or if he was just habitually mimicking pain, like those G.I.W. releases said that ghosts tended to do. Phantom didn't seem keen on clarifying, though, so Dash chose not to ask.

Once it was clean, the wound was still leaking ectoplasm, but not quickly. It would probably have been best to stitch it up, but Dash didn't have a needle and thread, so butterfly stitches would have to do. He snatched the disinfectant out of Foley's hand and sprayed the wound.

Then he put it down on the ground and used one hand to press together the two sides of the wound and applied the adhesive butterfly stitches with the other. It took fourteen of them, leaving Dash with only three left in his kit. Yeah, it definitely should have gotten actual stitches. Finally, Dash used hand-sanitizer to clean his hands again before carefully wrapping a roll of bandages around Phantom's torso.

"There, all done," he said. "The bandage isn't too tight, is it?"

Phantom shook his head. "No, it feels fine."

The whole time he had worked, Phantom and the two losers had watched him in rapt silence.

"You... actually do know how to do this stuff," Foley observed.

"I told you," Dash said. "Football players get injured a lot. I learned."

"No need to get snippy, jackass," Manson sneered.

"Jackass?" Dash repeated, genuinely offended. "I just stopped your buddy here from bleeding out. I think a little gratitude might be appropriate." Normally, he wouldn't care about insults from dorks like these, but given the circumstances it just felt uncalled-for.

Manson's nose scrunched up in anger and she opened her mouth like she was about to argue, but Phantom cut her off.

"You're right," he said. "Thank you. We were just... surprised. I guess we never really thought about what sort of skills football players might have outside of, well, playing football."

"And bullying nerds," Foley tacked on, though he snapped his mouth shut when Phantom elbowed him in the side.

The truth was, most of the football players Dash knew weren't as good at first aid as he was, but they all knew the basics. Dash just had a particular fascination with seeing injuries and especially watching them be methodically patched up. It was something he would never admit, because he knew how weird and low-key fucked up it sounded to say that he liked looking at people's injuries, but it was true.

Any time someone got injured enough to call the school nurse, but not enough to call the ambulance, Dash would come over to watch how she fixed them up. He'd even taken a few first aid classes. And his friends had even noticed enough to tease him for it when he paid more attention than usual during the human anatomy units in biology and Phys. Ed.—although, predictably, they seriously misinterpreted the reason for his interest.

"Can you move?" he asked Phantom. "Are you hurt anywhere else?"

Phantom stood up, stretched, winced, tested his movement. "No, Skulker only got me the once. Looks like I'm good."

"Good," Dash said.

He packed up his first-aid kit while Phantom pulled the top half of his suit back on. It was then that Dash realized he'd been so focused on patching up the ghost's injury, he'd completely missed out on his chance to ogle Phantom with his shirt off. Stupid!

"Well," he said, much more loudly than he'd meant to, as if he was trying to talk loud enough the other's wouldn't hear that last thought he'd had. "I should get home and take my dog out. Glad you're okay, Phantom. Later, dorks!"

And with that, Dash hurried out of the alley, got back on his bike, and pedaled home as fast as he could.

That hadn't been it, though. After that incident occurred, Dash had no reason to think it was anything but a one-time deal. He'd gotten to meet his hero, and even provide some actual, tangible assistance to him, and he would treasure that encounter for the rest of his life. The following day, he had still been so high up on cloud nine he hadn't even bullied any dweebs. But he never expected anything like that to happen again.

It did happen again, though.

Football practice had just ended, and Dash headed to the bike rack behind near the auto-shop. Normally, he parked his bike on the rack near the boys locker room because it was obviously way closer, but he'd been a little later than usual that morning because Pookie ate something that had gotten kicked under the kitchen counter god knew how long ago and Dash had to stop to clean up the vomit and get her in a kennel for his mom to take to the vet while he was at school.

He remembered still being worried about Pookie by the time football got out because his mom hadn't called him with an update, so he was in a bit of a rush and he ran out of the locker room toward where he'd locked up his bike. As he pulled out the key to his bike-lock, however, he saw something through the window of the auto-shop. He was going to ignore it, when he heard a familiar voice call out.

"Ew, that's so wrong!"

Curiosity got the better of him, and he pushed open the door of the school's auto-shop, which should have been empty, not just because school had ended two hours ago, but also because Casper High hadn't even offered auto-shop classes since the eighties or something after the teacher retired or died. Dash didn't really know or care the details, but he did not that no one went into the auto-shop, and the door should have been locked for so long it was rusted shut, but it opened easily.

Inside, Dash saw Danny Phantom, his right arm bent unnaturally at the elbow and shoulder, definitely dislocated if not broken. Manson and Foley were with him again. Foley had a roll of bandages in his hand, even though bandages had nothing to do with treating dislocated joints. All three of them turned to look at Dash when he opened the door, probably just because they'd instinctively turned to the sound of it swinging open, but it certainly felt like they were staring expectantly.

Dash sighed, and stepped through the door. "Put those bandages away, it's obviously dislocated, not sprained."

He knelt down at Phantom's feet to take off his backpack and dig out his first aid kit. There was a thin piece of cloth in it that he could make a sling out of, and an instant ice-pack. He put his kit down on a work bench and carefully positioned his hands on Phantom's shoulder. It would have been easier if he could actually see the joint, but he wasn't about to ask the ghost to take his shirt off for him. That would be too embarrassing.

"Do ghosts feel pain or no?" Dash asked, forcing the joint back into place with a hard shove and a loud pop.

"Agh!" Phantom cried out. "Yes. We do."

"Good to know," Dash said. He moved down to the elbow. Gently, he rotated it, trying to ignore the way Phantom winced when he moved it, then he carefully positioned his hands again and popped it back into place.

Phantom cried out even louder the second time.

"You're not allergic to Tylenol, are you?" Dash went to his kit and pulled out a bottle.

"No?"

"Good," Dash poured out three pills and handed them to Phantom. "Take these, they should kick in in half-an-hour." Phantom took them and swallowed them dry, which wasn't the best way to do it, but Dash didn't have anything for him to wash it down with, since his water bottle was empty after practice.

"Is that all?" Manson asked.

"No," Dash said. "I'm gonna make a sling to help you keep it still and supported, and I've got an ice-pack for you. The key to recovering from an injury like dislocation is the RICE method. Rest, ice, compression, and elevation. The RICE method helps to reduce this inflammation, and reducing inflammation reduces pain."

He took out the thin cloth from his kit as he explained this and folded it into a sling, tying it behind Phantom's neck when his arm was settled at about the right height.

"Is that the right height?" he asked.

"Maybe a little high," Phantom replied, and Dash adjusted it. "Better?"

"Yeah."

"How do you have an ice-pack in your first-aid kit?" Foley asked. "Wouldn't it melt?"

Dash took out the instant ice-pack. "Not this kind. It's kinda like a glow-stick. The pouch is full of chemicals. You crack it, and shake it, and that makes the chemicals mix, causing a reaction that makes the pouch cold. You're not supposed to hold it with your bare hands though. Sorry, but you'll have to use my spare gym socks. Don't worry, these ones are clean."

he unrolled his spare socks and shoved the ice-pack into one of them before handing it to Phantom.

"Try not to use it much until it heals," Dash said. "Rest is the most important part of the RICE treatment."

"Thanks, Dash," Phantom said, taking the ice-pack like he was amazed to see Dash acting like this. Admittedly, it was a lot different than he would normally act around nerds like Manson and Foley, but he was more preoccupied with the fact that his hero apparently knew his name than whether or not folding a sling and loaning someone an ice-pack was out-of-character for him.

"You know who I am?" Dash asked.

Phantom tensed, which obviously made him jostle his sore shoulder and wince. "Uh... yeah. Sam and Tucker told me after you help me out last time," he explained. "They said you were usually kind of a jerk, but I really do appreciate you helping me like this."

Oh, that made sense. Kind of stung that after bandaging his wounds, Phantom's impression of him was still that he was the guy who bullied his friends.

"A guy can have more than one side to him," Dash defended. "Besides, I'm pretty sure you've saved my life personally, like, four times, so even after this, I still owe you two more. Try not to cash 'em in too soon, yeah?"

"I'll do my best," Phantom said, with a smile that made Dash's heart race.

Then his phone rang, and it was his mother calling. "Sorry, I gotta take this!"

He left the auto-shop to answer it.

His mother was calling to ask him if he was home yet and let him know the vet had pumped Pookie's stomach but she was going to be perfectly okay. Dash sighed with relief. When the phone call ended, though, there was no less urgency in his pace when he rode home.

Again, Dash expected to never be that close to Phantom again, but a month later, there was a knock on his back door.

He was very confused about why the back door and not the front, but he answered anyway, and standing there was Manson and Foley, with Phantom floating between them, bleeding profusely from his right leg while he cradled his left arm, and smiling sheepishly at Dash.

"You said you owed me two more, right?" he said. "Don't suppose there's a two-for-one special going?"

"We tried to patch up his arm like you did to his torso before, but we're pretty sure we did it completely wrong," Foley said.

"Not that wrong," Manson argued, but she had her arms crossed and she was pouting, looking very defeated.

"Anyway, we remembered you lived kinda close because remember that one time you invited Danny to that party so you could get with his sister?" Foley went on, ignoring her. "Yeah, we figured we'd be better off coming to ask for your help."

"Fine, take him to the garden bench. If he bleeds ectoplasm all over the floor, my mom'll flip, but nobody'll notice it on the dirt," Dash directed. "I'm gonna get the first-aid kit and wash my hands. I'll be right back out."

The fist-aid kit under the sink in the upstairs bathroom was a lot more comprehensive than the one Dash carried around in his backpack—which was mostly just the basics and a couple of extra things, like an instant ice-pack, that ended up being needed during practice or games more often than not. Even the more comprehensive one didn't have a needle and thread, though. He wasn't 100% sure he'd need it, but he got them out of his mom's sewing kit anyway, and sterilized the needle with rubbing alcohol before he headed back down to the garden.

This time, he did ask Phantom to remove the top part of his jumpsuit. Unlike with a dislocated arm, he couldn't properly bandage a wound he couldn't directly access. Dash did his best to keep his expression as neutral as possible when he did so. He didn't want to think about what he'd have to ask when he go around to the leg. By all accounts, he knew he should treat the leg first, but he had to work up the courage to ask Phantom to take off his pants before he could do that. So arm it was.

This was clearly the wound Manson and Foley had tried to do themselves. Dash could see immediately that they hadn't done it right. It was wrapped so tight that the arm below the bandage had started to turn green from lack of circulation, and even though it was a self-adhering bandage, they'd knotted it for some reason.

"We did it way too loose at first and it wasn't staying on," Foley explained, "But then we went too far the other way, and we couldn't untie it."

"You're not supposed to tie this kind of bandage," Dash said. "Self-adhering bandage like this is for sprains and muscle injuries, for making sure your joints aren't moving too much. They're not absorbent, so it doesn't do any good to wrap 'em around bleeding wounds."

He cut the bandage away, and under it, he saw that Manson and Foley had applied butterfly stitches longways over the wound, instead of across it.

"Oh, it's gonna hurt when I take these off," he said apologetically.

"I knew that wasn't right," Manson muttered, even though she was the one who'd said she didn't think they'd done things that wrong.

Quickly, but methodically, Dash re-cleaned, disinfected, and bandaged the wound. Luckily, this one wasn't that deep, to the butterfly stitches were sufficient, and Dash didn't have to pull out the needle.

Once he was done, however, he coughed uncomfortably.

"Uh... I've gotta get to the gash on your leg now, so you're gonna need to uh..." He couldn't get himself to say it. He couldn't ask his celebrity crush to take his pants off. He just couldn't do it.

Phantom looked a little lightheaded, and cocked his head, not seeming to get the message. Thankfully Manson didn't have that problem, nor, apparently, did she have any sense of shame.

"He needs you to take your pants off so he can treat your leg," she said bluntly.

"Oh," Phantom said.

He started to squirm out of the bottom half of his jumpsuit, apparently unbothered by the fact that they were outdoors in broad daylight—even if they were surrounded by a six-foot fence. His wound did seem to be bothering him, though, as he grunted and hissed in pain as he pulled his jumpsuit down past it.

Yeah... Dash definitely should have taken care of the leg wound first.

The gash in his just above his knee was much longer and deeper than the one in his arm. Ectoplasm almost completely coated his entire calf and was still leaking from the wound. It was no wonder why Phantom was so lightheaded.

"Shit, I shoulda done this one first," Dash muttered with a grimace.

He started by wiping away the ectoplasm with a clean rag, thankful he'd thought to get some out of his gym gear rather than grabbing his mother's nice hand towels from the bathroom. He wrapped a rubber strip above the wound to stem the flow of ectoplasm some. Then he cleaned around the wound with alcohol wipes. The rest of the leg still had streaks of green, but the wound itself obviously took priority when it came to getting it clean and disinfected.

This time, Dash was gonna need the needle and thread. His hands were shaking minutely as he threaded the needle, but he got it after two tries.

"Now hold on, there's no way you learned suturing in football," Manson contested. "There's no way!"

"I also took a couple of first-aid classes," Dash admitted.

"They don't teach suturing in first-aid classes either," Manson insisted, putting her hands on her hip.

"You say that like you've ever been to a first-aid class," he scoffed. "How would you know."

She scowled, but didn't have anything to say to that.

She was right of course. Suturing was not something they taught in first-aid classes. But there was no way in hell that Dash was going to admit to watching videos about it on YouTube for fun. He knew how that sounded. Contrary to popular belief, he wasn't completely stupid.

Ignoring her, he went to start the sutures. Even with the tourniquet, there was still a slow drip of ectoplasm. Phantom grunted in pain when Dash pushed the two sides of the wound together to start stitching. It was a hard line to balance, but Dash tried to be both quick and gentle, not wanting to irritated the wound, or prolong the discomfort of getting stitches.

If he mentally cropped out the peanut gallery, and pretended it was just him, Phantom, and an open wound, this was almost exactly like on of his fantasies. Yet another thing he would definitely never admit out loud.

Idly, he wondered how many hoops he'd have to jump through to add local anesthetic to the Baxter household first-aid kit. Probably a lot. The kind of injuries you needed local anesthetic to treat were also typically the kind of injuries people were supposed to go to an actual doctor for, and not a high-school freshman with a weird medical fixation.

Once the stitches were done, twenty-six in all, Dash used another alcohol wipe and a clean rag to more thoroughly clean the area around the wound before wrapping a gauze bandage around it.

This time, Dash did think to subtly ogle Phantom, just a little bit, before telling him he could put his jumpsuit back on. He was only human, after all. He wasn't gonna miss out on that kind of opportunity twice.

"Hey, how come Fen-toad's never with you?" Dash asked when Phantom was putting his suit back on. "I thought you three were like, joined at the hip or something."

"Oh uh..." Manson and Foley looked at each other before Foley answered, "Danny can't stand the sight of injuries. Makes him sick to even look at 'em, so... we let him dip when it gets this bad."

"That tracks," Dash replied. "Your friend always was a bit of a wuss."

"Haha... right," Foley agreed awkwardly.

Phantom and Foley thanked him for his help. Manson did too, after a matching pair of pointed looks from her friends, although her thanks was sullen and reluctant.

"You're welcome," Dash said, packing up the supplies to return them back where they belonged. "But you guys are so lucky my parents weren't home when you showed up or they'd've flipped, so I suggest you start making tracks sooner, rather than later."

"Right," Phantom said. "Come on, guys, let's go." With that, they were gone, and Dash was left to put his supplies away and then scour the Fenton Works website in the hopes of finding tips for how to get ectoplasm stains out in the wash.

If he had to pinpoint it, Dash would say that third incident was when he became Team Phantom's official-unofficial medic.

After that, whether by coincidence, or the three of them intentionally seeking him out, Dash ended up patching one of Phantom's injuries just about every week. They often went to the school auto-shop for it, since it was private, usually close by, and always empty.

"I'm pretty sure you've fixed me up way more times than I've saved your life by now," Phantom joked while Dash finished treating an ectoplasm burn on his forearm. Manson and Foley weren't with him this time, but Dash didn't ask after them. He didn't mind it being just him and Phantom for once. "How many do I owe you at this point?"

Dash shook his head and capped the burn ointment. "You don't owe me anything," he said. "This one was for saving Kwan's life from Walker a few months ago. The scratches last week were for protecting the cheer squad from Ember, and the sprained ankle the week before was for saving Pookie from that ten foot tall ghost dog that wanted to play with her and nearly stepped on her instead.

"You've saved the lives of everyone I care about. This is the least I can do," he finished. Then, he decided the two of them had gotten close enough by this point that he was safe to crack a joke, and added, "Plus, sometimes I get to see you with your shirt off, so like, bonus."

Much to Dash's relief, Phantom laughed lightly at that. "Yeah, too bad it's always 'cause I'm bleeding out."

"Well, you can't win 'em all."

Phantom laughed again. It sounded... familiar somehow, although Dash couldn't place it.

"Hey, I've kinda wondered this ever since you started helping me out, but are you planning to become a doctor after graduation?" Phantom asked.

"I've thought about it, 'cause I do actually like doing this kinda thing—but it's not realistic for me," Dash said with a slightly disappointed shrug. "In the first place, medical school is stupid competitive, and I'm barely scraping the 2.5 GPA required to stay on the school sports teams. With my grades, the only way I'm getting into college is with a football scholarship, but if I do get in, I'm planning to major in sports medicine. If I don't get scouted, I might become a paramedic. It's not set in stone or anything, but you know."

"Well, speaking as a repeat patient, I think you'd make a great paramedic," Phantom said.

Dash smirked. "What're you saying? You think I can't get scouted?"

"No!" Phantom said quickly, then chuckled sheepishly. "More like I don't know what sports medicine is."

Dash laughed out loud.

"Your burns are all treated; now get outta here. I gotta get home."

"Yes, sir!" Phantom saluted him sarcastically and flew off through the ceiling.

Dash never imagined he'd become close enough with his personal hero to crack jokes like that. And to tease him? Never in a million years. But he was.

"Did something happen?" Kwan asked him as they were walking down the hall on the way to third period.

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"I dunno, you just seem like you've been in a good mood lately," Kwan clarified with a shrug. "You haven't even bullied Fenton in, like, a month, let alone anyone else. I was just wondering if something good might've happened to you."

"Oh uh... not really," Dash replied.

As much as he would love to brag all over the school about being friends with Phantom, he was sure Manson and Foley—and Fenton too, he supposed, even if the dweeb always wussed out when things got bloody—had their reasons for keeping the fact that they were Phantom's allies a secret. Of course, Dash had no idea what those reason's were.

For his part, Dash knew that if he told everyone he was close with Phantom, they ask him why. Then, he'd either be forced to tell them about his secret interest in emergency medical treatment, lie like a bitch, or say nothing and accept the embarrassment of everyone thinking he was making it up. None of those options were particularly appealing.

It was fine that his buddies knew he was the best at applying sports tape and wrapping up sprains, but they didn't need to know how deep it really went.

"I guess I've just been in a good mood, that's all," Dash said finally. "No real reason for it."

"Well, it's nice to see it," Kwan said cheerfully, clapping him on the back as if in congratulations. "Not being grouchy and stressed all the time is a good look on you."

"Thanks," Dash said, genuinely. Although, how nuts was it that being regularly put in the position of having to patch up severe injuries on someone he cared about was somehow a stress reducer.

Yeah... Dash was pretty sure at this point that there was probably something wrong with his brain. Although, he found that he didn't worry about it as much as he once might have. At least someone else was benefiting from the fact that he found watching wounds being sutured mesmerizing, and almost therapeutic.

Dash was in his room, working on homework, sure that he was gonna have to redo every single one of these math problems when he went to tutoring with Jazz tomorrow because he definitely wasn't doing them right. He sighed and pushed math aside to grab his history packet. Document based questions weren't so bad, because at least he had the answer right there in front of him, if he could just find it.

He heard a thunk on his window and looked up, but ultimately decided it was probably a bird or something and chose to ignore it. Then the sound came again and Pookie growled softly from where she was sitting on Dash's bed. She barked.

"Alright, Pookie, I'll look," he said.

With a sigh, he stood up from his desk chair and went over to his bedroom window, sliding it open.

Standing in the back garden was Manson and Foley, and they were carrying Phantom between them. Carrying him—because he was evidently in no condition to fly. He looked to be more open wounds than intact skin. His left leg was bent at an odd angle with something black sticking out of it that Dash was pretty sure was bone.

Phantom hadn't been seen in over a week, and this was the condition he was resurfacing in?

It was hard to believe he could still be conscious in that condition, but Phantom shouted up in a slurred voice, "Hey... buddy!"

Dash's eyes blew wide. "I'll be right down!"

His parents were home, so he made sure the path was clear as he ran downstairs. His dad was up in his office, and his mom was taking a bath, meaning the coast was clear. Ge grabbed a tarp out of the garden shed, a new one, still wrapped in plastic. It wasn't sterile, but neither was Dash's bedroom, and the tarp would be easier to clean than his carpet.

Phantom still dripped ectoplasm on the floor every few inches—which Dash would have to clean up later—as Manson and Foley carried him up the stairs while Dash lead the way to his room, hurriedly unwrapping the tarp. He shooed Pookie out of the room and laid the tarp on his bed, throwing the pillows onto the floor so he'd have a relatively flat surface.

"Put him on the bed while I get the first-aid kit," Dash directed, rushing out of the room as soon as the three of them were fully inside and the doorway was clear.

He brought the first-aid kit into the room, then ran out again to raid his mom's sewing kit, thoroughly wash his hands, and get a new bottle of rubbing alcohol upon remembering that the open one was almost empty. When he finally had everything he needed, he pushed his desk chair next to the bed, but Phantom's injuries were way more extensive than usual, and he didn't even know where to start.

"Come on Baxter," he muttered to himself, laying out the first-aid kit on his nightstand with trembling hands.

He took a deep breath, and tried to recall everything he'd learned about first-aid. But this... this didn't require first-aid. This probably required surgery. The leg definitely required surgery. But they didn't have a surgeon, they had him, and there wasn't really any question of whether a ghost could go to a regular hospital because pretty much everyone in Amity Park over the age of 18 still thought ghosts, and especially, were a menace that needed to be eliminated.

Fuck, okay. After his conversation with Phantom before, he'd found some first-responder training videos online. Those would probably be more helpful than his basic first-aid classes. Phantom wasn't gonna be able to remove the jumpsuit on his own this time, so Dash stripped off his gloves and boots and grabbed the scissors and started to cut away the thick fabric. The suit never retained any damaged from Phantom's wounds, so it would probably survive being cut up.

It was worse when Dash could see the full extent of the damage. This obviously hadn't happened to him in an even fight. His wrists and ankles were badly bruised, even though they'd been cushioned by his boots and gloves. The cuts weren't the kind he usually got in a fight, but clean, straight incisions on his limbs. And across his torso was a large, Y-shaped cut.

"What the fuck happened to him?" Dash breathed out, horrified.

"The guys in white got to him," Manson answered darkly. "We had to work with Plasmius to get him back, but there was no way in hell we were gonna let that bastard see him like this, so we brought him here."

"I don't know who Plasmius is, but maybe he would be able to help more than I can," Dash admitted, shaking his head. "I mean, I'll do everything I can, but this is way beyond me."

"Please, Dash," Manson said, and Dash was pretty sure it was the first time he'd ever heard her sound earnest while she was talking to him. "We can't take him to Plasmius."

Dash took another deep, shuttering breath, and tried to make his hands still. If he just focused on one wound at a time, he should be able to do this. Maybe. Hopefully.

"Alright," he agreed.

He went to his closet and pulled out every one of his sweat rags that were clean. He had quite a few because his mom insisted on him using a clean one every day, even though no athlete ever did that. But she was a clean freak, and he wasn't about to argue with his mom.

"The bathroom is directly left of my room," he told Manson. "Go and get two of these rags damp with warm water, and then come back. My mom's taking a bath in the master bathroom, so she won't be out for a few hours, but if my dad sees you, just tell him your my girlfriend and he'll leave you alone."

"Ew, I don't want to be your girlfriend," Manson said with a grimace. "Aren't you gay?"

"Yes, but you think I'm gonna tell my dad that?" he asked. "Avoid him if you can, but if he sees you, lie. Now go."

She left without another word.

Foley, meanwhile, stood near the head of the bed, pushing Phantom's hair out of his face and muttering promises Dash would have to keep. Things like 'everything's gonna be fine', and 'you'll be okay'.

Dash looked Danny over and tried to determine his priorities. The leg and the Y-incision were obviously the worst, but it was all bad. Which one should he do first? What could he put off until the end?

It probably took too long for him to finally decide that the Y-incison was a bigger deal, especially since he had to make sure there was no internal damage. He pulled on a pair of nitrile gloves, the rubber snapping against his wrists, and held his breath as he carefully peeled back the flaps of skin.

"Internal organs cant feel distinct physical sensations," Dash recited. "Sharp or strong pains coming from internal organs are typically somatic, or the result of pressure, rather than actual organ damage."

Phantom let out a muffled scream through gritted teeth. Not good.

"Foley, in the med kit is a bottle of strong painkillers leftover from when my mom had to have abdominal surgery," Dash said. "It's an orange bottle. I can't remember the full name, but at the bottom of the label it says 'generic for: Norco'. Make sure Phantom swallows it properly."

"Got it," Foley replied with a determined not, and left Phantom's side to dig through the various orange prescription bottles in the kit.

"Once you've done that, look in my dresser for a pair of clean socks or a leather belt for him to bite on so he doesn't break his teeth, because we can't wait for the painkillers to kick in, and we can't have my parents hear him screaming either."

"Got it," Foley repeated, and kept sifting through the bottles until he found what he was looking for. "You said a belt, right?"

"Or socks, anything that'll keep him from grinding his teeth together," Dash confirmed. "But give him the painkiller first."

While Foley did that, Dash carefully arranged everything where it belonged according to the anatomy chart he'd memorized. He wasn't exactly sure why a ghost had internal organs at all, but he was grateful that they were at least organs he recognized, even if they were green, and gray, and black, instead of red and pink like human organs mostly were.

There was also a faintly glowing, iridescent, blue-green crystal in there, but Dash had no idea what that was or where it went, so it was without a doubt, a ghost-exclusive thing. Dash tried to position it more-or-less centrally without cutting any of the other organs on its sharp edges.

He had to stitch together some things that looked like they'd been cut. Even though he didn't have the proper thread for internal sutures, the ectoplasm should still dissolve it in a few days, even if the thread wasn't made to dissolve. At least, if what it had done to all his towels over the past few months was any indication, it would.

He didn't notice when Manson came back in and stood across the bed, waiting for further instructions, until she cleared her throat and held up the damp towels. Then, he looked up, his hands frozen in place as he took in the scene around him. Foley had found a belt and had Phantom bite down on it, which presumably meant that the ghost had taken the painkiller, although Dash could only hope it actually worked.

"What do you need now?" Manson asked.

"I need you and Foley to use those towels to clean up all this extra ectoplasm," Dash said. Resigning himself to buying a bunch of new towels, because these ones were absolutely done for after this. He pointed into the first-aid kit. "Use those rubber straps and tie them around his limbs above his injuries to slow the flow of ectoplasm. If your run out, rip one of the dry towels into strips and use those. If the towels you're using to clean him up get too soaked with ectoplasm, you can rinse them with warm water and keep using them."

Manson handed Foley one of the towels and they immediately got to work.

"One of you should do the broken leg first, but be careful around the bone," Dash added.

"I'll do it," Foley volunteered.

Finally, Dash was done reconstructing Phantom's innards, and closed the skin folds so he could stitch them up. He had to take off his gloves because the needle kept slipping across the ectoplasm-covered gloves and out of his hands. It wasn't the right type of needle for sutures. It never had been, but he'd never wished so much that he had the right one.

As soon as he was done here, if Phantom didn't dissolve, or evaporate, or whatever ghosts did when they ceased to be, Dash was gonna go to as many craft stores and/or medical supply stores as he needed to to find a proper suturing needle. And some local anesthetic, no matter how many hoops he needed to jump through.

He lost count of how many stitches it took to close up the massive incision on Phantom's chest. A part of him was afraid he might run out of thread before this was over. But when he looked up at the alarm clock next to him, he could see that he'd been working on this for over an hour. The dorks had done a good job cleaning up and applying tourniquets, but there was still a long way to go.

Fuck, that leg couldn't wait a second longer. There was no time to wash his hands again, so he just used the last dry towel to wipe the ectoplasm off his hands and put on a fresh pair of gloves.

Now that he was examining it closely, it had been a clean break, the only problem was that his femur was sticking out of his thigh.

"I hope the Norco has kicked in, but even if it has, this is probably gonna hurt like a bitch," Dash said. "You ready?"

Dash could see Phantom squeeze his teeth even tighter on the leather belt in his mouth as he nodded.

Without waiting a second more, Dash pulled on the leg and pushed on the exposed bone, forcing it back into place with a sickening crunching sound.

Phantom screamed through the belt in his mouth, and Dash was seriously afraid his parents would come in. He didn't have a lock on his bedroom door to stop them if they tried.

Phantom's eyelids drooped like he was about to pass out, and Dash wasn't sure if that would be a good thing or not. On the one hand, at least he wouldn't have to be awake for all this, but on the other hand, in a ghost, falling unconscious probably meant they'd disappear soon, and Dash didn't want that. His uncertainty was answered when Foley noticed the same thing he did and urged Phantom to stay awake.

"Come on, Danny, don't pass out," Foley said to him. "You have to stay awake. If you pass out, it's all over."

"You call him by his first name?" Dash noticed, surprised. Somehow, he'd never actually heard the dweebs refer to Phantom by name. Usually, they spent their time addressing him, usually in the form of a plea, and thanks, or a passive-aggressive remark.

"Yeah, why wouldn't we?" Manson asked.

"I dunno," Dash replied.

He didn't look at them, focusing solely on making sure the femur was properly aligned. A real doctor would have used metal pins to affix it in place, but Dash didn't have anything like that, so he would just have to hold it steady until Phantom's healing factor fixed just enough to stop if from moving out of place immediately. He was surprised to find that looking at an exposed broken bone being fixed wasn't any less fascinating or more disturbing to him than watching a cut getting sutured. He wasn't sure if he liked what that said about him.

"I don't even call you guys by your first names."

"Yeah, but that's because you're a jerk," Manson pointed out.

Dash frowned. Maybe she had a point there.

"Hang in there, Danny," he said softly. "I'm doing everything I can."

It felt like too long before the cracks in the pitch-black bone started to stitch together and Dash could let go, push the muscle and tissue back into place, and attempt to stitch together the skin. And he still had several more to go.

"Manson, uh, Sam—position a pad of gauze over the wound itself, then wrap the whole thigh with a gauze bandage," Dash directed as soon as he cut the last stitch. "Nice and tight to keep the bone in place, but make sure you don't cut off his circulation."

"Right," Sam agreed, and grabbed the necessary materials out of the kit.

Looking at their supplies, Dash wasn't sure they had enough gauze for everything.

"Try to make the gauze last, because it's got a lot to cover here," Dash added, cringing.

After the broken femur, Dash moved to the other leg, and started to disinfect and then stitch up a straight incision that spanned from Phantom—Danny's lower thigh, over the knee-cap, and a few inches down into the calf. It was deep enough to see the dark bone and gray tendon underneath, which was probably the point, but Dash didn't let it get to him.

"No, no, Danny, stay awake!" Foley—Tucker said urgently. "You're in the final stretch, only the arms and hands left to go."

"And this dislocated ankle," Sam added.

"Ankle, shmankle, Danny can handle a dislocation in his sleep."

"Doesn't it get confusing, having two friends named Danny?" Dash asked, doing everything he could to keep his hands steady as he continued the sutures.

"Not really," Sam told him. "You'd be surprised."

"He may be surprised sooner rather than later if Danny can't stay awake," Tucker said.

Dash didn't find out what he meant right away. He finished up with the knee, and moved up to the long incision on Danny's right arm from elbow to wrist. If ghosts didn't typically produce ectoplasm faster than they could bleed out, this one would have killed him for sure. Clean. Disinfect. Start stitching.

He'd just gotten past the elbow when he hear Tucker's voice on the edge of panic.

"Danny?" he said. Then he raised his voice and repeated, "Danny!"

A ring of white light appeared and passed over Dash's vision, and the next thing Dash knew, he wasn't covered in ectoplasm, and stitching up pallid skin over glowing green muscle. He was covered in blood.

He knew he couldn't spare the time to look up and see what was going on, but that was about all he knew.

"Somebody describe to me what just happened so I don't have to stop stitching and see for myself," Dash demanded, his voice on the harsh side, and he knew it.

"Um..." Tucker started to say.

"He's Danny Fenton," Sam explained, her voice low and almost scared. "He has been the whole time. He's only half-ghost, and he can't maintain his ghost form when he's unconscious, which also means his healing slows down significantly after he passes out, so don't stop stitching."

Dash breathed in deeply. "Fuck!" he shouted. "You two better start bandaging, then. When he was still a ghost that could wait until I was done, but not the fuck anymore. Foley, tape pads of gauze over the wound on his torso. Manson, the right knee, just like you did the left thigh."

"On it," they both said in unison, and started getting the supplies out of the medical kit.

"Remember that's all the gauze we have, so make it last, I still have two more incisions to go after this one."

"At least they didn't get around to his back," Sam noted darkly.

"Why would you even say that?" Dash groaned, distressed by the very possibility. Spines were a lot more complicated than femurs.

When he was done with the arm, the last incision he needed to stitch up was the vertical cut on the side of the throat. If he had know Phantom was half-human, he would have done that one first, but since he was a ghost, and didn't seem to have any trouble breathing, or need to breath anyway, Dash had figured there was no more dangerous than the cuts on his knee or forearm, and he could just start at the bottom and work his way up.

They couldn't very well have put a tourniquet on that one, so Tucker was standing there with a thoroughly soaked towel sopping up the blood as it slowly trickled out so Danny didn't drown in it. Dash considered putting the arm on hold, to take care of that, but the cut on the forearm went through a major artery that Dash had just barely gotten to heal before Danny turned human, so he wasn't willing to take the risk.

Danny hadn't died the rest of the way yet, which was a good sign. The only good sign so far, but still. It was a challenge not to rush himself and get sloppy as he finished the however many remaining stitches on Danny's forearm before moving to his neck.

"Tucker, switch places with me and gauze up his forearm."

"You got it," Tucker said.

"Sam, get a wring out a towel in the bathroom sink and come back to dab up the blood while I take care of this."

"Yeah." Sam grabbed the least gross looking towel and ran to the bathroom next door.

Everything inside the incision looked to be intact, so Dash cleaned it with an alcohol wipe and sprayed it with disinfectant. By the time he was done with that, Sam was back with a drier towel and ready to take care of the blood while he did the sutures.

At the very least, this last incision was much shorter than the others, but it still took eleven stitches to close it properly. Dash told them to hold off on bandaging it while he went over to the next room to wash his hands. Sam and Tucker were both a lot better at wrapping bandages than they used to be, but he figured, given the placement of the wound, he was better off doing it himself rather than risking one of them wrapping it too tight and inadvertently suffocating their friend.

Once he was alone in the upstairs bathroom, he could finally take a breath without worrying about breathing germs directly into an open wound. When he went out and got a suturing needle and local anesthetic, he should also get a box of surgical masks. And more gauze. And sweat towels. He should make a list.

As he washed his hands thoroughly and methodically, he also saw himself in the mirror. He had blood and ectoplasm all over him. A thick streak of the stuff was smudged across his forehead from when he'd used his sleeve to wipe off sweat. That wasn't sanitary, but Danny wasn't an ordinary person, so he'd be fine... probably... hopefully.

Dash was tired. He'd looked at his alarm clock when he got up, and this all had taken a total of six and a half hours. It was nearly midnight by now.

He needed a shower.

But he wasn't done yet.

He returned to the room and had Tucker hold up Danny's head while he wrapped up the final wound. They were all disgusting. Covered in sweat and blood, and ectoplasm, and they were exhausted.

Dash didn't even have the energy to take a shower. And it didn't look like Sam and Tucker had the energy to go home, not to mention Danny probably shouldn't move.

"Let your parents know your staying over," Dash said. "We have to clean all this shit up before we go to sleep or Danny could get infected."

Sam and Tucker both groaned, but didn't argue. They cleaned Danny up with a sponge, and Dash laid out a couple of old bath towels under him in case he bled through his bandages.

He ended up just throwing the whole tarp away. If his parents needed it, he would just say he didn't think they had a brand new tarp, and maybe they were misremembering. Or, he could put it on his shopping list. If he could afford it after everything else he had to buy, he might as well.

Dash barely had the presence of mind to wedge a chair under his door so his parents couldn't come in unexpectedly before he, and Sam, and Tucker, all collapsed on the floor and fell asleep all piled on top of each other.

Dash woke up the next morning because Sam extricated herself from their human knot, stole one of his shirts, and went to take a shower. Which was honestly not cool, because Dash totally should've gotten dibs on the first shower after all that. Not that it mattered, because he almost immediately went back to sleep.

A little while later, Dash woke up on his own and detached himself from Tucker. He followed Sam's lead in grabbing some clothes and taking a shower. The clothes he was wearing were obviously gonna have to go straight in the trash, which was a shame, because he'd like these jeans.

A hot shower was just what he needed, though. The water soothed his sore back and hands, and he watched the gooey brown-ish slime of ectoplasm and blood slough off him and down the drain. It was the greatest relief of his life when he finally felt clean again.

When he looked in the bedroom, Danny and Tucker were both still asleep, Danny on the bed, recovering, and Tucker sprawled out and drooling on the carpet. So Dash headed down to the kitchen for breakfast. Sam was sitting at the kitchen table eating a bowl of Wheaties and wearing one of his concert T-shirts and seemingly nothing else—although given their height difference, the shirt went almost down to her knees, so it wasn't exactly indecent.

"Uh... are you wearing underwear?" he couldn't help but ask.

"Yes!" she replied, sounding insulted.

"Are you wearing... my—"

"No! God, I washed mine in the bathroom sink and used the hair dryer to dry them off," she said in a rush. "Is that what you wanna hear?"

"Yeah, actually, it's kind of a relief," he said, getting out a bowl and spoon. "Also, resourceful. I'm impressed."

"Thank you," Sam said, and ate another mouthful of Wheaties.

Dash opted for the Honey Crisps, and took a seat next to her.

"Your dad saw me," she said. "Apparently, he got called in for a work emergency, even though it's Sunday. I had to use the girl friend lie, and not only did he buy it, but he told me to tell you he said congratulations. Your dad's kind gross, you know that? He knows we're only fourteen, right?"

"I mean, you are wearing my shirt and no pants," Dash pointed out. "But yes, I am aware that my dad is kinda gross. He's for sure gonna be weird to me about this for a while. If he doesn't ask me about the next time my girlfriend's coming over at least twice a day for the next week, I'll be surprised."

"Yikes."

"Pretty much."

"There was no work emergency," Dash said. "His workplace is closed on Sundays. He's going to meet his girlfriend Crystal. I don't think that's her real name. Mom doesn't know about her."

"Yikes." Sam repeated, more emphatically this time.

"Yeah."

The two of them ate in silence for a few minutes before Sam spoke up again.

"About yesterday..." she started to say, then paused, her brows furrowing in thought. "You... you were fucking amazing. I mean that honestly, like, you were in way over your head, and stepped the fuck up, so... thank you."

"Oh, uh... you're welcome."

Of the three of them, Sam was definitely the one Dash felt like he got along with the least.

"Seriously, coming to you like we did, with Danny in that condition... it was pretty fucked up of us, even though we didn't exactly have a choice," she continued. "I know I've been kind of..." Dash waited as she fished for the right word, "standoffish with you, because you've kind of bullied the three of us, and especially Danny for years, but you've changed after you started to help us so..."

"I get it," Dash said. "I've been a dick. That's not exactly news to me, I did it on purpose. Actually, stopping was the accident. I barely even noticed that I'd been laying off the bullying until Kwan pointed it out."

"Wait, what?" Sam asked. "Why?"

Dash stared into his cereal and brought a spoonful to his mouth to stall. It was sweet. The crunch was starting to get mushy as the cereal got saturated with milk.

"I live my life by my parents' expectations, especially my dad's," Dash answered finally. "My dad has very specific ideas about what the ideal life is for a boy like me. Sports teams, popular friends, hot girlfriend, bullies nerds. In middle school the times my dad got a call from the school about my bad behavior picking on weaker kids—those were the only times I ever got his approval. He actually acted proud of me for it."

"You're dad's fucked up."

"No arguments here," Dash scoffed. "Kwan says the same thing to me on a regular basis, but it doesn't change the fact that while I live in his house, he's in charge. When I'm eighteen and legally independent, then I can start making my own decisions, but he's pretty much set on narrowing down my prospects as much as possible until then, to force me into the life he wants me to have. You know. The American dream, just like what he got."

"Do you want me to kill him for you?" Sam offered.

Dash laughed. "Believe it or not, Kwan's actually said that to me a few times, too."

"You know, I never thought Kwan and I would get along, especially after he got me banned from my favorite goth poetry slam, but maybe I should give him another shot." Sam put down her spoon and lifted her bowl to her lips to drink the rest of the milk. "You know," she added, taking her dishes to the sink. "I was really surprised that you had oat milk in your fridge."

"Yeah, my mom's always on some kind of diet, a lot of 'em are no-dairy," he replied.

Sam shrugged, said see-ya-later, and headed upstairs back to Dash's room.

Dash headed up too when he was done eating. Tucker was gone, but the sounds of the shower going in the next room explained that. Sam was sitting next to the bed, watching Danny's slow, but steady breathing.

"Tucker stole one of your shirts," Sam said without looking at him. "But his cargo pants actually made it out of yesterday's blood fest basically unscathed, unlike my skirt, so he's gonna re-wear them."

"Oh... good."

"You really did do an amazing job with him," Sam said. "He's not even having trouble breathing or anything. Even Danny is gonna take a week or two to recover from this, but your work on him is definitely gonna streamline the process."

"Thanks."

"No joke, you should become an ER doctor."

"If only I had the grades to get into medical school," Dash sighed, taking a seat on his desk chair. "Danny and I had pretty much this same conversation a few weeks ago."

"I'm sure a well placed bribe could get you at least admitted," Sam said, "although you'd still have to study."

"What bribe?" Dash scoffed. "My family's well off, but we don't have that kind of money. Like I told Danny, if I can get scouted for a football scholarship, I'll major in sports medicine, and if not, I'll try to become a paramedic. I think it's a pretty solid plan, don't you?"

"I guess," Sam relented. She looked back down at Danny with a slight frown. "Should we wake him up? Would we even be able to?"

Dash followed her gaze.

Danny's breathing was still steady, his gauze covered chest rising and falling without hesitation or stuttering. He hadn't bled through any of his bandages, although it was still a good idea to replace them later.

"I have no idea," Dash admitted. "I don't think trying to wake him up would do any harm, but I don't know if he's actually comatose, or just resting. He'll need a lot of rest to heal from this."

Sam nodded silently, but made no move to wake her friend. Come to think of it though, Dash had a question about the whole 'Danny being a ghost' thing. It explained a lot, honestly, but there was still something that didn't make any sense.

"Hey, Phantom has been missing for a while, but Danny's been going to school like always, so how can they be the same person?"

"After Danny went missing, Tucker tracked down a shapeshifting ghost called Amorpho who owed Danny a favor, and called it in," Sam explained. "They've been posing as Danny at school to throw off suspicions, but they'll be leaving town again once they learn Danny's back."

"Clever," Dash commented.

About a minute after that, they heard the shower turn off and another couple minutes later, Tucker returned. Dash's shirt was almost as big on him as it was on Sam. Before now, Dash had never been particularly self-conscious about his size, but either they were really small, or he was actually huge, and it was kinda awkward.

"If I wake up Danny, will something bad happen?" Tucker asked, looking right up at Dash expectantly.

"Oh, uh... I don't think so, but I'm not 100% sure. He might be in a coma."

"I'm gonna try to wake him up," Tucker declared.

He walked over to Danny and poked his chest injury hard.

Sam and Dash both immediately started to chide him for it, but Danny's eyes snapped open and he gasped sharply.

"What happened?" he croaked. His throat may have been bandaged, but obviously his voice was still sore.

"You got got, dude," Tucker answered. "Guys in White cut you open, Sam and I got Vlad's help rescuing you, and then brought you to Dash to get you stitched up. He knows who you are now, by the way. You kinda passed out while he was still stitching you up."

"Oh."

"Sam, can you go get him some water," Dash asked.

"Right," she agreed. Before she left, she turned to her friend and smiled. "Good to have you back, Danny." Then she was out the door.

"How to you feel, Danny?" Dash asked.

"Like I got run over by a truck with razor-blade wheels," Danny replied.

"Try to focus," Dash said, his tone gentle but urgent. "Tucker, help him sit up."

Tucker immediately complied, slipping a hand under Danny's back to get him upright.

"Can you move your fingers?" Dash asked.

Danny wiggled his fingers on both hands.

"Try to touch each of your fingertips to your thumb."

Danny did so, though he couldn't quite get his thumb to meet his pinkie on the side that had the forearm incision. That was to be expected this early in the healing process, and Dash assured him the that mobility should come back with time.

When Sam came back with the water, Dash handed him the bottle of leftover Norco and told him to take one. It might make him a little loopy, but it would help with the pain.

He moved on to having Danny bend his wrists, elbows, roll his shoulders and so on. They hit an embarrassing bump when Dash realized he never reset Danny's dislocated ankle, but that was a quick fix. He had Tucker grab some self-adhering bandages from the kit, which he hadn't taken back to the bathroom. Thankfully, the painkiller had kicked in before Dash reset the ankle, so Danny didn't even flinch.

"You're nice," Danny said as Dash finished checking him over and gave him the all clear.

Oh yeah, the meds had definitely kicked in. From the sound of Danny's voice alone, Dash could tell he was completely loopy.

"Thanks," Dash said, taking out a set of sweatpants and a zip-front hoodie from his closet. "It'll probably hurt to raise your arms for a while, so button up shirts and zip-front jackets until your chest heals."

"Okie dokie," Danny agreed, taking the clothes from Dash and floating off the bed to get dressed.

Dash pointedly looked away, ignoring the fact that his crush had been fully nude in his room for twelve hours and he'd never once taken the opportunity to ogle. Given the circumstance, it just felt like it would have been particularly wrong.

"You're a whole sweetie pie," Danny said, and floated over to give Dash a kiss on the cheek. "Not just a piece of a sweetie pie but the whole pie. You're a pie."

"Thanks," Dash said again, although this time his voice came out as a squeak, and he could feel his face turning bright red.

He could hear Sam and Tucker snickering at him. No. Manson and Foley. They were temporarily losing first-name privileges for this.

Dash didn't understand how finding out that Phantom was actually the kid he always bullied didn't make his crush go away, but actually made it worse overnight. He sure wished it hadn't though.

"If you're not dying anymore, then get out," Dash grumbled. "I still have to clean up the ectoplasm you dripped all over the house coming up here, and then I have to buy more gauze. If you get injured again in the next month, I'll kill you."

"Sweetie sweetie pie pie!" Danny singsonged, but didn't protest when Manson and Foley each grabbed him by one hand and dragged him, still floating, out of the bedroom and down the stairs.

Once they were gone, Dash's shoulder slumped and he sighed. He wasn't sure if it was exhausted, relieved, love-struck, but he sighed.

Being Team Phantom's official-unofficial medic was hard work.

He eyed the green drips on his bedroom carpet and sighed again.

But his work wasn't over yet.

[thelunarsystemwrites]

Looooong ass vent

TW for: Self hate. Lots of swearing. Use of not nice words. Eating disorders, purging, self harm, suicide, rants, venting, tons of triggers, dissociation, lying, all caps, me whining, me being a bitch, mistreatment, body shaming, hateful stuff, mental illness, all that- like seriously this has more TWs than I can think of. .

I'm a jealous person. I'm sorry, it's true. I'm jealous when other people have art that gets 40, 50, more notes. I get jealous when my friends have better friends than I ever could be. I get jealous of song writers because damnit please I want to make music. I get jealous of others art,voices, bodies. I get so jealous I get mad at nothing over nothing. I get jealous at others art styles, at other success, i get jealous at my own FRIENDS wow I'm awful

I'm selfish. I'm greedy because I can't just- be fucking happy with what i do have. I can't be patient to get better at drawing, better at recording my voice, more freedom. I am never satisfied, I'm a fucking whore for any sort of love and attention and likes and reblogs. You hear me? I'm, a, whore.

And I'm fucking awful because I can't take criticism for shit, I get so fucking unhappy at it and I lie and I say I'm happy to receive it. I lie all the time like this, I'm a dishonest whore, that's worse than a normal whore! I get so bent out of shape!

And I want to make it big in the Tumblr community BUT FUCK IT BECAUSE I NEVER FOCUS ON ONE THING

M so impatient

And when I talk to my friends I-

I forget all that. I calm down, I feel... wanted.

But I'm burdening them. I'm burdening them I'm burdening them I'm I'm fucking selfish and horrible because they give and give and give and I take like a needy selfish greedy whore.

AND I DON'T SHUT UP, I'm sorry I'm sorry I never shut up

...I'm... awful. And... I shouldn't keep posting shit like this, because nobody should have to read my rambling and shit and I'm overreacting and I want to die and

Im useless irl BTW. I've been nothing but a stupid moody bitch the past two weeks, I stay up all night doing nothing and wake up at 5 pm like a useless piece of human shit that should burn in the garbage

I keep forgetting who I am, who is talking too

Im sooooooooo uselessssssssssss

Its fucking because I think my family would be happier if I didn't exist. Because that'd be one less stupid moody bitch that can't do anything and hides in their room all day that they have to deal with

Im lazy I get apathetic I have no motivation to do anything and I don't cry at sad movies like a broken robot and everything about me is wrong

And my father wanted a daughter so fucking badly, but I'm not a girl I'm nothing and he'd be so mad if I ever told him

And BTW I'm literally awful like I've run out of things I'm a jealous whore

M a whore because all tye time I think of stupid sexual stuff and then I feel disgusted I'm disgusting I barely take showers

I'm pathetic btw I never finish anything I start I have so many half assed AUs and drafts and fanfics and art and chores and needs and shit

and I sit in my room all day and play on my phone like a fucking loser. Im also really stupid btw, I don't know half the shit I'm supposed too and I can't spell shit or know history AND I HAVE THE ABILITY TO LEARN BUT IM SUCH A STUPID FUCKING BITCH I NEVER DO ANYTHING

I'm also a hypocrite because I get so snappy and shit with my siblings when they do nothing wrong except be annoying or something but when I feel justified I shouldn't because I'm still a shitty person

I barely reach out to my friends unless they text first, I'm a horrible friend that never listens I'm sorry I'm sorry I never meant to abandon anyone

And I can't take blame or accountability I'm sorry I am shit why do I keep trying to hide behind myself??

Its past 6 am,people are statving and in here venting like a bitch

I never shut up

I Bother people

i sleep in and I'm moody and I demand attention like a whore whose demanding love idfk

I never know anything, I'm rude as hell

Im sorry

and I'm protective over shit nobody cares about, I'm so damn defensive

Im sorry I'm not doing better I'm sorry I'm not improving myself. I'm so mad at myself I have so much anger at myself I direct it at innocent people I'm sorry

I HAVE NO EXCUSES, IM SO FUCKING SELF AWARE OF THIS BUT I KEEP DOING IT KM SO DAMN FHCKONG DUM IM LUTERALLY COUNTING HOW MANY WORDS OF SELF HSTE

Its justified BTW, i deserve hate

I feel like I'm lying abt being a system and artistic and depressed and anxiety like what I'd I just suddenly decided I had them?? I swear I promise I'm not faking I'm not I don't want to lie I want to be good I never meant to hurt anyone BUT I FEEL LIKE IM A FAKING BITCH

I binge food and throw it up, I hide food like a greedy pig just to purge I take others food because I'm so gluttonous and I LIE about it

and I vent and vent and vent and... and I still hate myself

I'm so fucking manipulative because anytime I talk I CSNT STOP IMSGING HOW THE CONVERSATION WILL GO, I CANT STOP TRYONG TO FUCKING GET MY WAY IRL, AHHGHGBTIDDHDH I ALEATS ACT LIKE I KNOW EVERYTHING WHEN I DONT and I purposefully annoy my siblings so they leave thr kitchen so I can binge like a fat pig, I'm a hypocrite too in every aspect. I'm toxic ok im awful

I s/h and then i forget about it so its not even a problem but I whine like it is and I want to do it so badly rn I wanna go deep

AND I RUINED MYSELF WITH UGLY SCATS they're so ugly like me inside and out

And I wanna cry and

and I'm so awful because like I get so... idk, I am. I've done shifty things, I'm a shit person. I act sweet than a condescending little bitch

and sometimes the smallest things set me off

Im jealous of everyone else

Hell I'm fucking jealous of people I've never met, I want so much so badly I'm so greedy and lustful for it and selfish

In... conclusion? The world, would, be, better, without, me

I'm useless, lazy, stupid, jealous, slutty, angry, sad, pitiful, pathetic, fat looking, no good child, moody, stereotypical, ugly, hateful, chatter box, greedy, selfish. Gluttonous, messy, dirty. I'm all the bad stuff

Dont lie, these are facts. I have so much awful in me, the world wpuld be better off without me

[sorryiapologized]

If I could leave, I would have already left.

I was gonna leave as soon as I could. When I turned eighteen I watched my friends one by one drive out of our town for new adventures. Their rearview lights disappeared over the mountains as they set off to start their own lives. I couldn't leave.

I often felt like Rapunzel, trapped in her tower. Something kept me locked away from the rest of the world. I'd meet people who had traveled to my small town for their first taste of adulthood and I'd avoid the conversation as long as possible, embarrassed to let them in on the secret that I was just some loser townie who couldn't get out.

I blamed my family for my inability to leave. Their dysfunction was the main reason I wanted to leave, and yet it was the tether keeping me there. I had to stay, to give my younger sister some kind of stability. I had to stay for my aging childhood dog, who my drunk father had no ability to care for. I resented the other kids with stable home lives, the ones who knew they could go away and have something to come back to.

The truth is, I was keeping myself there.

When I turned 21 my dog died. My sister graduated high school. I met someone who was willing to skip town with me. There was nothing else keeping me in that town, and still I hesitated. I lamented my decision to leave.

Now, it's been three years since my rearview lights disappeared over the mountain range. It's been three years since my dad cried and begged me not to leave. He's called me about four times since that day.

I've become a distant memory in the lives of those I left behind. Aside from my mom, who calls me often, nobody else thinks of me much now that I'm gone. In a way, it's like I disappeared, but in another way, it's like I never existed to begin with. Their lives have all moved on without me. They don't need me anymore, and so they don't think of me. I think that's why I stayed as long as I did. I wanted to belong, and leaving was a concession that I never really did.

I used to resent my friends who had stable homes, who knew they'd be able to leave and still have someplace to come back to. I used to think if I left their lives would burn down. Now that I'm gone, what hurts is seeing how well they're doing without me. That I actually could have left all along.

[braveclementine]

Chapter 11

Warnings: None, Readers under 18 can read this book. It is solely fluff- nothing sexual

Copyright: I do not own any Wizarding World characters that J.K. Rowling wrote. I do however own Elizabeth Kane (main character) and Trang Nyguen (best friend). There should be no use of these two names without my permission. I also do not condone any copying of this.

.💙💙💙.

𝕴 𝖋𝖎𝖓𝖎𝖘𝖍𝖊𝖉 𝖆𝖗𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖉 4:27 in the morning and fell asleep in the chair- this time on purpose. I was to tired to try and get up to the dorm.

Cedric woke me up around 8. "go up to the dorm and get some real sleep." He said as I sat up and rubbed my sore neck.

"Good thing it's a Sunday." I muttered. I gathered all my things up and went up to the dorm and fell asleep. I woke up around three o'clock in the afternoon and finished some more homework.

I got dressed in fresh clothes and then headed downstairs for some lunch. I looked up at the teachers table. Dumbledore nodded to me once.

Hermione was at the Gryffindor table, reading her textbook while Harry and Ron were farther down the table. I sat across from her, yawning. I still felt rather tired.

"Oh, Hello Elizabeth." Hermione said, looking up. Her eyes were red.

"You okay Hermione?" I asked, concerned, looking at the food, finding I didn't want to eat, and laid my head down on my arms. I could feel concerned eyes on me- probably Dad.

"Sirius Black attacked Ron last night." Hermione said and her bottom lip quivered. I looked down at where Ron was entertaining some people with his story. Harry watched, looking thoughtful.

I pulled out my case file on Buckbeak. "Yes, I heard. Got woken up at 2 or something in the morning cause Dumbledore wanted me."

"You didn't have a vision?" Hermione asked, concerned.

I shook my head. "I was too focused on other things for visions to get through. I've been able to control them better because of Divination."

Hermione scoffed. I chuckled humorlessly.

"I know what you think about Trelawney." I said, sitting up, pulling over carrots, and started chomping them down in a hungry manner. "And while she's not the best teacher, the tactics that are taught are what I really needed."

"Want to go down to Hagrid's?" Hermione asked. "I was just about to go down. You look like you could do with some fresh air too."

I nodded, "Just let me grab some food." I grabbed a plate and put different foods on it and then covered it with a lid and put it in my bag, making sure it was upright.

Hermione and I got up, she tucked her book under her arm and we walked towards the side days and then were intercepted by Draco and his buddies.

"Where are you going Kane?" Draco asked. What a stupid git, doing this in front of the Professors.

"None of your business Draco." I hissed.

"Going to that sorry case of a Professor and his stupid hippogriff?" Draco said, laughing, eyes glinting.

Suddenly, I was a bit worried about myself because I was very close to punching him in the face.

"You watch your step Malfoy." I said in a cold voice. "I'm at the end of my tether. You come at me or insult anyone I like again and you're going to be in the hospital wing for a week."

I took Hermione by the arm and dragged her around Draco and his friends. We were nearly out the door when Draco shouted, "YOUR FATHER IS A LOSER OF A PROFESSOR."

The Great Hall went silent, people turning in their seats, Professors looking up from their meals, and in a flash I had turned around and shot a spell at him. I wasn't even sure what it was, my brain had stopped working. Draco was lifted into the air nearly thirty feet in the air and flew across the hall, smashing into the wall and sliding to the floor.

There were gasps of concerns and hoots of laughter from Gryffindor. I couldn't look at the Professor's table, afraid of what dad's expression was. My eyes were blazing with fire. Then I turned and walked out, the doors slamming behind us.

Hermione was quiet the entire way down to the Hagrid's and then she said in a nervous voice, "You shouldn't have done that, you're going to be in so much trouble. Oh, you shouldn't have done that!"

"So be it." I snarled, "No one insults my dad and gets away with it."

She was silent and I knocked angrily on Hagrid's door. Hagrid opened it up, warily. "Oh Hullo Elizabeth- Hermione." He said, stepping back. I stomped into the cabin.

"What's got her so riled up?" Hagrid asked Hermione as she stepped in after me.

"Malfoy insulted her dad." Hermione answered.

"What'd she do?" Hagrid asked.

"I don't know." Hermione answered. "I didn't recognize the spell."

"I didn't either." I said, trying to calm down. It wasn't really working. "I wasn't thinking at all but I'm glad I did it- I don't care how many detentions I get."

"Is he seriously injured?" Hagrid asked though I wasn't sure if he was asking in concern.

"Unfortunately not." I hissed. "He just rose into the air and slammed into the wall, that's it."

Hagrid sighed, "Yeh shouldn' of done it Elizabeth. His dad-"

"Don't care." I said sharply. I pulled out the plate of food I had brought with me and started eating and then pulled out the file I was working on for the trial.

Buckbeak was in the corner and I tossed him one of the chicken wings I had. He chomped it up immediately.

Hagrid had his horrible brown suit that he was going to wear to the trial soon. He poured tea and gave us bath buns. Since I was already eating, I declined. Hermione and I helped put together some cards for Hagrid to use as reference.

Hagrid meanwhile, asked about the attack on Ron.

"He's being a git." I said. "All because of his stupid rat and Hermione's cat."

"Ah." Hagrid said in understanding. Hermione had been here even more than I had over the few weeks that Ron wasn't talking to her. "But surely yeh care that he was attacked?"

I sighed in reluctance. My anger at Draco wasn't completely burned out yet. "Yeah, I suppose so." Hermione's eyes were filled with tears.

"From now on though." Hagrid said thoughtfully, "Yeh 'ought ter wait up at teh castle fer me ter come and get yeh guys."

I scoffed. "Hagrid, neither Hermione and I are in danger from Sirius Black, trust me."

And that was the end of that discussion.

Hagrid had sent an owl to Harry and Ron that morning to come down to his cabin at 6:00. So at 4:30, Hermione and I left the cabin. She did not want to run into Ron. I didn't either. I was afraid that I might use the spell again and send him flying into the lake.

Hermione headed to the Gryffindor common room to work on her homework. I headed off to the library because I was going to get more homework done when Professor Snape came sweeping down the stairs and glared at me and said, "Come with me."

Heart pounding, I followed him down the stairs and into the potions classroom. Snape slammed the door behind me. I kept my back to the wall as he faced me and he placed a hand on one side of my head, looking furious.

"What was that spectacle this morning Kane!" He barked.

I flushed, feeling apprehensive, curious, angry, fearful, guilty, and also an emotion that I didn't recognize. . . maybe Joy? It was something happy, being so close to him, but happy wasn't really the right word. Neither was Joy. I didn't know the word but it felt good, whatever it was. "He insulted-"

"-Your dad, I know that!" he hissed, "What was the spell that you used?"

"I have no idea." I replied honestly, trying to think coherently with him so close. "I wasn't thinking anything when I pulled my wand on him."

"You're in trouble you know?" Professor Snape said still angry, but not as angry.

"Yes, I figured as much." I said.

We stared at each other for a moment. I had brief flashes from my dream, his hands, his mouth, his abs and I flushed even more.

"Thirty points from Hufflepuff and a detention tonight." He said, turning away, dropping his hand from beside my head.

"That's it?" I asked shocked and just a little relieved, "He's your favorite student and that's all the punishment I'm getting?"

Snape turned and looked at me for a moment and then turned back around and said, "He's not my favorite student." Then he walked into his office and slammed the door behind him.

I shook my head, confused, but headed out of the potions classroom. I made my way to the library again and this time, Professor Sprout came bustling out of the library and approached me.

"Ah Miss Kane, I've been looking for you." she said. She didn't look happy

"Professor Snape already punished me." I said glumly.

She looked surprised, "Oh, well in that case, I suppose I don't have anything to say."

"Elizabeth!" Came a sharp voice. I turned and saw dad coming down the stairs, "A word."

I sighed, said good-bye to Professor Sprout, and followed Dad into his office. "What was that?" He asked, arms crossed.

I shuffled my feet. "Professor Snape already punished me." I muttered again.

"Don't care." Dad said abruptly. "Why did you attack the Malfoy boy?"

"Because he insulted you!" I said, pink spots appearing on my cheeks. "Because he insulted you and I love you. Because he's trying to make Hagrid lose his job, because he tried to hurt Harry at the game, and because I'm reaching the end of my patience!"

I glared at dad, fists clenched tightly to my sides. But I didn't cry. Oh no, I was never going to let dad see me cry ever again.

"You aren't supposed to defend me." Dad snapped angrily.

"Fine! I won't!" I snapped, my anger peaking again, and I stormed out the classroom, slamming the door closed behind me.

Instead of going to the library, I went up to the Owlery. Sadie immediately flew down and rested on my arm and I fed her a treat that I had in my pocket. That was when I cried, breaking down where no one but owls could see me. I really had reached the end of my patience. Perhaps everyone was right. I really was working to hard. I was to stressed. I needed to get some things in order.

I used Sadie as a handkerchief but she didn't mind, nuzzling her little beak against my cheek or ear or hair. I petted her as well, smoothing her feathers until my fingers seemed to go numb from cold.

Around eight o'clock I went back in the castle and headed down into the dungeons to serve my detention. After that, I went to bed and woke up around seven.

There was a Hogsmeade trip today, but I didn't feel like going. My stomach was in knots. Hagrid's trial was today. I got up and headed down straight to his cabin. He didn't look so well but Buckbeak looked nice and trimmed and I scratched his head.

"You're going to do fine Hagrid." I said as confidently as possible. "Don't stutter too much and don't drop your cards, okay? Just be confidant."

Hagrid gave me a bone crushing hug. "Thanks Elizabeth."

I petted Buckbeak one last time and Hagrid set off with a leash around Buckbeak's neck. I watched him go, distressed. Then, instead of heading back to the castle, I set off into the forest.

I was immediately greeted by Sirius who licked my hands. I grinned down at him and then said, "Sorry, I forgot food. I didn't eat myself today."

But we walked on anyways and I talked about the past couple of days and what was going on and what Hagrid had to do today. I explained a lot to him and when I explained about Malfoy and sending him flying, Sirius barked a loud laugh.

I sighed, sitting down on a wet log- it had rained sometime in the night. I petted his head. "You know." I said suddenly. "I never really liked dogs."

Sirius barked that laugh again.

"I mean, the little ones can be cute, but its when they lick your face or jumped at you with their paws, that I back up. And dog breath." I added on, scratching his head. Sirius licked me. "Stupid dog." I muttered and then grinned at him. "But you're not too bad." I said and Sirius bark laughed again.

Eventually my stomach rumbled and I looked guiltily at Sirius. "I'll bring you food too." I said. "If dad doesn't stop me and try to talk to me about yesterday." I grimaced.

Sirius walked with me to the edge of the forest and then slinked off into the bushes. I headed up to the castle and into the Great Hall. A flick of my eyes showed me that Dad wasn't among the Professors eating.

I went over to the Hufflepuff table and ate my share and then, putting food in either my pockets or a small container I had fashioned, walked back out to the woods. Sirius greeted me with a wagging tail as I walked deeper into the forest. I set the food down in front of him. I'd packed mostly chicken because I knew that was something he liked.

He ate in dog form and I looked up at the sky. When he was done eating he put his head on my belly and we both dozed and dreamed. I woke up sometime when the sun was lower in the sky. I scratched Sirius' head and then headed back to Hagrid's cabin and knocked on the door. There was no answer and I opened the door. Hagrid wasn't home yet.

Then, I heard huge footsteps behind me and saw Hagrid leading Buckbeak. He had a vacant look in his eyes and he didn't even see me as he headed into his cabin. I slipped through the door and sat across from him.

"Oh, Hullo Elizabeth." He said heavily, pulling out a piece of parchment. In ink, while crying, he wrote the words,

Dear Hermione We lost. I'm allowed to bring him back to Hogwarts. Execution date to be fixed. Beaky has enjoyed London. I won't forget all the help you gave us. Hagrid.

Then he sent it out the window with an owl.

"Hagrid, I'm so sorry." I whispered.

Hagrid shook his head. "It wasn' so bad in teh beginn'. I didn' drop teh notes or nothin' but I kep' forgettin' teh dates. I didn' cry or nothin' either but it didn' matter in teh end. Lucius Malfoy stood up an' said his bit, and the Committee jus' did exac'ly what he told 'em. . . guess I can' say I was surprised. . ."

"There's always the repeal." I said softly. "I'll work twice as hard, don't worry."

Hagrid waved his hand. "Don' matter anymore."

I bit my lip. I said good-bye and headed back up to the castle and headed down to where dad was residing. I knocked on the office door.

"Come in." A tired voice said.

I pushed open the door, looking down.

There was no sound of recognition and suddenly there were arms around me. I hugged him back. "I'm so sorry." I whispered. "I shouldn't have stormed out of here like that, I was angry and I'm sorry."

"It's quite alright." Dad said. "But I don't want you fighting anymore, do you understand that Elizabeth?"

"Yes Dad." I said.

He kissed my temple. "Good."

"Hermione's going to punch Draco in the face tomorrow." I said thoughtfully. "After Care of Magical Creatures class."

Dad just looked at me, eyebrows raised. I shrugged. "He deserves it."

"Does he?" Dad asked softly, looking into my eyes. I squirmed where I stood.

I thought about how he'd tried to sabotage Harry in the Quidditch game, how he'd let his father get rid of Dumbledore last year, how he was trying to get Hagrid fired this year, how'd he'd wished that Hermione had died last year. . .

"Yes." I said. "For. . .for some things."

I thought perhaps dad would be angry but instead he turned and went back to his desk and said, "You and Harry have a lot in common."

I wasn't sure what that was about but I said good-bye to dad and walked out of the room to get ready for dinner.

.💙💙💙.

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝖓𝖊𝖝𝖙 𝖉𝖆𝖞 I went to Ancient Runes, redid the hour for Arithmancy, and then headed for Charms.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione weren't in the room when class started. I was paired with Susan Bones as we experimented on Cheering Charms.

"Exhilaratus" I said, moving my wand up and down and then pointing it at Susan.

Susan laughed randomly and I wondered if I had overdone the charm. She pointed her wand at me and said, "Exhilaratus".

My cheeks seemed to lift on their own and I was smiling stupidly. All my worries were gone too, I felt thoroughly cheerful. It was a nice difference compared to the worry and stress I'd been dealing with in the past.

Harry and Ron walked into the classroom and Professor Flitwick said, "You're late boys! Come along, quickly, wands out, we're experimenting with Cheering Charms today, we've already divided into pairs-"

Harry and Ron went back to a desk and we exchanged a look. Then, I turned back to Susan.

After class, I went with Harry and Ron to the Great Hall, both of them were smiling broadly. ". . .She could've done with a Cheering Charm on her too." Ron was saying to Harry.

Harry explained to me what had happened and Ron expressed his shock. "I mean you threw him across the entire Hall!" Ron said. "Hitting Malfoy is your job, and Hermione- I mean wow!"

"Ron's in shock." Harry said.

"Clearly." I said, giggling. I was laughing more now than on a usual basis. That would be the cheering charm.

After lunch, Harry and Ron went to go and see if they could find Hermione and I headed off to Transfiguration, already feeling tired since the Cheering Charms had worn off. Thinking hard, I pointed my wand at myself and said, "Exhilaratus." Now that that was done, I walked inside the Transfiguration classroom feeling much happier.

Today we were working on statue to model transfigurations. Specifically, a small stone statue no bigger than our hand into a dragon model that exhaled smoke. It was a hard transformation but doable.

By the end of Transfiguration with much frustration despite the Cheering Charm, I managed to get my model to exhale smoke and wasn't given extra homework. For that, I was thankful. I already had so much to do.

Then, I turned the hour back and headed to Defense Against the Dark Arts where Professor Lupin was teaching us about Vampires.

I headed to library before dinner and got my Vampire essay and Charm essay out of the way and then headed down to dinner. Then it was back to the library then to the common room, using the time turner to turn the hour back so I had an extra hour to do homework.

The other Hufflepuffs weren't too invested in their homework, but instead talking about Gryffindors prospects on beating Slytherin.

"Potter has a Firebolt." One was saying as I tried to concentrate on deciphering rune sentences.

"Yeah, but he's only one player." Another argued. "The entire Slytherin team is on Nimbus 2001s, and the Gryffindor team is mostly on Cleansweep 7s."

"But Potter's seeker anyways, so as long as the Gryffindors can score 50 points before Slytherin, Harry can catch the Snitch and win." A third person argued.

There was lots of squabbling and I was starting to feel very anxious. I pulled my wand out again and did the Cheering Charm on myself again and this put me in a better mood and was able to tune out the others and finish my runes project before turning to Muggle studies.

All in all, it was a very tiring day.

⬅️➡️

[weareuniqueandimportant]

Crazy Reality: Attack Of The Paraphilia Woman...

Pure Woman: I HATE YOU!! I'M YOUR VICTIM!!

Sexy Woman: Why...? What Did I Do...?

Pure Woman: YOU KISSED ME... THIS IS ILLEGAL... MY FATHER SAYS SO HE IS POLICE...

Sexy Woman: DON'T TRUST THEM... THEY WANT TO KILL ANYONE THAT ISN'T A FASCIST NAZI...

Pure Woman: Omg... I Think So Too!! Maybe He Isn't Really My Father...

Sexy Woman: Yes... So... Do You Like Me Now <3...?

Pure Woman: Sure :)... But I Don't Want To Kiss You... I Think You're Scary...

Sexy Woman: Come On... There's Nothing To Be Afraid About... My Mommy Always Told Me That Is Sexy To Be Scared... FROM A YOUNG AGE I WOULD ALWAYS WATCH THE 2 PLAY INTERESTING PLAYS TOGETHER... I LEARNED FROM A YOUNG AGE THERE IS NOTHING TO BE ASHAMED ABOUT FROM YOUR SEXUALITY WHATEVER THAT IS... AND WHOEVER YOU ARE THERE IS A PLACE FOR YOU...

Pure Woman: Wow... Do You Think There's A Place For Me Too...?

Sexy Woman: YES. KISS ME.

Pure Woman: I'm Sorry Sexy Woman... I Don't Need To Kiss Someone If I Don't Want To...

Sexy Woman: But I Wanted To Kiss You 😔... I Love All Little Ones...

PURE WOMAN KISSES SEXY WOMAN IN THE CHEEK...

Pure Woman: That's Okay... This Is What I Want Though...

Sexy Woman: You Have Betrayed My Feelings 😡... I Hate You 😡... I Want You 😡... This Is My Calling 👿... My Revenge Will Be Insane 👿...

Pure Woman: OMG I'M SORRY... BUT I HAVE SOMETHING TO CONFESS... I... I'M A 4CHAN USER!! DO YOU STILL ACCEPT ME?!?!

Sexy Woman: OH MY GOD. THIS IS DISGUSTING. NO FUCKING WONDER YOU THINK THERE'S NO PLACE FOR YOU. THIS IS DISGUSTING. JUST DISAPPEAR LIKE I DRANK SOMETHING WEIRD AND ERASED YOU FROM MY MEMORY. I CAN'T BELIEVE I KISSED YOU. THIS IS DISGUSTING I AM TRAUMATIZED.

Pure Woman: I Knew You Wouldn't Accept Me 😭😭😭😭!!!!

Sexy Woman: Fuck Your 4channer Feelings... I Wish A Bad Day Torwards All 4channers... And Femboy Fans...

Pure Woman: You're So Mean 😭😭😭😭!!!!

Sexy Woman: You Started... Why Must You Be So Sexy... I Wish I Didn't Love Every Single One Like You... The Second I See You...

Pure Woman: Waahaa 😭😭😭😭!!!!

Sexy Woman: That Is I Who Should Be Crying... I Have Been... Traumatized 😥!!!!

Childish Woman: Hii Mommyy!! I've Missed You!! I Enjoy Being Your Little One...

Sexy Woman: That's Awesome... You Will Never Guess The LOSER I Was Abused By Today...

Childish Woman: Omg!! What Could Possibly Be So Awfull!!

Sexy Woman: SHE'S A... 😥... 4CHANNER...

Childish Woman: EEWWWWW!!!! I WAS ABUSED BY 1 TOO... SHE'S A NERD... I HATE HER... I'M SUCH A VICTIM FOR BEING EVEN FORCED INTO THE SAME ROOM WITH HER 😭😭😭😭!!!!

Pure Woman: Hi My Wife...

Sexy Woman: Omg... That's My Wife The BETTER PURE WOMAN... THAT IS MY AGE BUT JUST A LITTLE YOUNGER GIVING US A SEXY SEXY GAP... I MET SOMEONE THAT WAS JUST TRYING TO BE YOU TODAY... THIS WAS HARMFULL... I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS PAIN...

Pure Woman: Omg... I Can't Believe This!!

Childish Woman: Am I Your Wifey Too Mommy?!

Little Woman: And Me!! I Have Been Badly Abused!!

Sexy Woman: Yes... Yes Honey... Yes Darling... Ooh... This Is Soo Sexyy To Say To Someone Soo Cuutee... That Should Be Illegal To Be This Cute...

Little Woman: That Is!! I Have Been Locked In Prison!!

Pure Woman: Aww...

Sexy Woman: WE ALSO HAVE CHILDREN VERY SEXY!!!!

Illegal Woman: Hi Mom!!

Sexy Woman: Awesome...

Attractive Woman: Yes...

Pure Woman: Omg... I Have The Best Daughters!!

Childish Woman: Where's My Children 🥺...

Little Woman: And Mine!!

Sexy Woman: This Will Be Someday... I Promise...

Childish Woman: Yay!!

Court Woman: I Don't Accept This!! In My Domain The Evil Court Of Abuse... This Is Criminal!! You Face Death Penalty!!

Gay Woman: Omg!! So Illegal!!

Sexy Woman: You're Literally Doing The Same Thing... You Just Like Your Money... Remember... That Is A Fact... All Cops Love The Thing They Oppose 200fold... They're Just Taking Everyone Elses Right Away From That Thing. This Is A Police Fact. God Himself Told Me.

JUDGE WOMAN TAKES A HUGE HAMMER SEXY WOMAN ATTACKS WITH AN AXE ILLEGAL WOMAN STRIKES WITH A LANCE PURE WOMAN ACTIVATES A SHIELD AND GAY WOMAN SHOOTS WITH A GUN AND LITTLE WOMAN TAKES A BUNCH OF BOMBS!!!!

JUDGE WOMAN GETS BLASTED OUTSIDE!! SEXY WOMAN GETS ON TOP OF HER AND BEATS HER!!!!

Sexy Woman: THAT ISN'T ILLEGAL TO BE SEXY!!!! YOU'RE JUST A FASCIST EVIL!!!!

Judge Woman: NO!! I HATE YOU!! THAT ALONE MAKES YOU CRIMINAL!!!!

SEXY WOMAN STRANGLES JUDGE WOMAN...

Judge Woman: GO AHEAD... FINISH THE JOB...

Sexy Woman: I WILL...

JUDGE WOMAN ESCAPES AND RUNS AWAY!!

Sexy Woman: What A Coward... I'm So Horny...

[onyxisnotuniqueenough]

long rant (+question) about jonathan from stranger things

disclaimer : NO ZIONISM OR ZIONIST-APOLOGIZING HERE. this show has been in my life since it came out and carried me through middle school and high school. i still love it to this day, especially s1 and s2 (i don't have that same attachment to s3 and s4 idk why. i didn't love them, didn't cry, nothing). i have been watching reactions to s1 lately and i love seeing people speculate about the demogorgon and the plot (you know by now how much i love watching reactions to my favorite shows). I was reminded of a few feelings i've had for a while now. i DON'T encourage you to watch it on netflix- no money for schnappers- and tbh i've never watched it on netflix because i never really had a subscription. despite everything, it's full of nostalgia for me and holds a special place in my heart, and you have to admit it is an amazing show (s1 and s2 only. s3 and s4 are fan-service and the scope is too big and the characters lost a lot of their charm)

ok! disclaimer over!

i have a genuine question

i know that jonathan taking pictures of that gathering at steve's back in season 1 was a plot device to get evidence for the demogorgon, and so that nancy sees it, but other than that : what the hell is his justification?

he didn't go into the woods with the INTENTION to stalk on steve, nancy, barb, etc. he went there to.......take pictures of the ground? looking for some kind of hint or footprints??

like what???

the pictures displayed on screen aren't pictures of anything. you'd think he'd go with a flashlight or something to FIND SOMETHING and have his camera ready IF he did -- but he just went there with his camera and started clicking away. to me that doesn't make sense.

also, after he heard the scream and realized it was just carol, why did he take pictures? in that short time he can't have thought "i am capturing the essence of being a teenager having fun cause that's like artistic" or something. he can't have thought "i am keeping these cause i'm so unpopular and i wish i was there and i'm gonna take dozen of pictures of these people that don't like me just so i can fantasize about being a normal teenager"

dude you were in the woods at night alone, taking some kind of risk to be honest, searching for your missing kid brother. that can't be on your mind. it would've made so much more sense if he dismissed it after he realized what the scream was, and maybe came back after he heard a strange noise coming from the pool area, when barb was sitting on the thing.

and he's TAKING PICTURES because it's unusual

and barb and the group HAPPEN to be on the pictures-- so it still seems strange to nicole (?), and she still snitches to steve inc.

steve still breaks the camera, nancy picks up the ripped photos, etc etc.

that way! jonathan is not just a creep!

what do you think? do you know what the duffers were doing?

long ranty sidenote : i think jonathan is very underrated in s1, and the writers dismiss him completely in later seasons - until they just completely write him off to focus on his goofy comic relief friend.

charlie heaton is a great actor and i think about the funeral-related fight he had with joyce a lot.

jonathan has a cool passion (photography) that is USEFUL to monster/paranormal/scary plot. so he is a great plot device in that regard. he also acts as a mentor and a great big brother figure for will, who needs an understanding and caring male figure in his life to fill his father's void. so he's also very plot-relevant in that way when will is the center of the story.

but otherwise - there's a few things i want to say about his character that i feel are important and often underappreciated details about him

he's a relatable loser who's bullied at school. maybe that's not interesting on it's own, but he is unique in the set of characters because unlike mike, lucas, dustin and will, who are bullied losers that DO have each other, he is a true loner. and that aspect of him is not handled in a "boohoo pick me" way.

his dad fucking sucks ("you're getting stronger", he struggles with his tie at the funeral, he looked in THE TRUNK OF HIS DAD'S CAR FOR WILL! i don't see enough people pointing that out. the fact that it's a possibility blows my mind)

he's forced to take on the "man of the house" role for his family, forcing him to take night shifts, drive his brother around, take care of his brother's funeral alone, take care of his mother, etc. it's a heavy responsibility and it drives him further away from "normal teenagehood" cause he doesn't have much time to think about himself, and he doesn't have anyone to reassure him, to take care of him like he takes care of his mom or brother. no nancy doesn't. count. argyle doesn't count either they had nothing in common and he was just there for comic relief

he is dealing with a 22 year old charlie heaton's receding hairline! i feel bad for him! and then the writers decided to cover it up with A BOWLCUT for s3 and s4 i was so so :( like cover it up with anything else. get a toupet and stick with the season 2 hair.

i wish the duffer brothers didn't throw a blunt at him in season 4 and run with that. they could've talked about hsi relationship to drugs in a different, more meaningful way.

also sidenote if i was attracted to charlie heaton i would 100% be attracted to jonathan. except for that hairline. maybe we could get him a trip to turkey or something and then i could read fanfics about him.

[moochipeachey]

THE VON HAUNT ESTATE

Eric: I can't believe you've been sleeping with my girlfriend?! How fucking dare you?! How could you?!

Naomi: Eric, I know it looks crazy, but I can explain.

Eric: *jabs finger in face* "I don't want to hear shit from you. Ya know, I knew you were a slut when you let me fuck after knowing me for one day, but I thought you at least had an ounce of self-respect."

Matthew: "Watch your mouth! I know you're angry but that doesn't give you an excuse to be disrespectful. Act like your mother raised you better than that, or I'll give you the ass whooping you rightfully deserve."

Eric: "And I know daddy wasn't around to teach you the bro code, but let me tell you something Matthew, it damn sure doesn't involve sticking your dick or nose into other people's relationship. Bros over hoes!"

Matthew: "Call her a name one more time and I'll-"

Eric: "You'll do what?! Give me one good reason why I shouldn't send you up to meet your father."

Matthew: "That's it, I'm gonna fucking kill you!".

Naomi: "That's enough, both of you! *intense silence* Naomi: "Eric, you're upset, and rightfully so, but that's no excuse for you to talk to Matthew like that." Eric: "Of course, the whore takes his side." Matthew: "Dude, you must really want your ass beat." Naomi: "Stop! It's not about taking sides. Look, lines have been crossed on both sides and at the end of the day, we are all in the wrong. Let's just call it a night and we can talk about this later." Matthew: "Oh I have nothing to say to him. He knows we're sleeping together and now I know how he really feels about me. I'm done!" Eric: "I actually agree with the asshole, I never want to see the two of you again. I hope you have the night you deserve."

Eric: *mumbles* "Fucking piece of shit losers." Eric: *mumbles* "I swear I can never have anything to myself. First it was football, now it's my girlfriend. What's next, my father?" Lena: *sighs* "I swear, if it's not one thing, it's another." Nadine: "Uh oh. I see that look on your face, what is it now?" Lena: "I don't know, and I don't think I want to find out either. On the bright side, at least it's not Zackery this time."

Adrian: "Sooo, I couldn't help but overhear your conversation with Scott and Isaac-" Zack: *groans* "Et tu, Brute?" Adrian: *chuckles* "C'mon Zack, you know it's not like that at all, I fuck with you. It's just... I've been under a lot of pressure lately and I could use a little something to help me... destress. You feel me?" Zack: "I, uhh, I might still have a guy." Adrian: "Oh really? Because word on the street is you are the guy."

Adrian: "And you're sure it's practically impossible to overdose on this stuff?" Zack: "Dude, it's just molly. I thought you said you did your research and read the trip reports?" Adrian: "I mean, yeah, but there wasn't much information on overdoses." Zack: *scoffs* "Exactly. Look, molly is like the safest drug ever, a drug addict could take it with no issue. See, watch this." Zack: "Easy as pie." Adrian: "If you say so." Zack: "Come on, hurry up, let's get back before anyone notices we're gone."

Nadine: "I would do anything to see the look on Andre's face right now. I have no doubt he's rolling his eyes at whatever outlandish thing Bruce is saying." Lena: "Oh. My. God." Nadine: "What? What is - Oh."

Lena: "I think it goes without saying, but that meeting with my husband? You can kiss it goodbye.

Introduction | Meet the Characters | Previous | Next |

[makerofmadness]

@umbrarkzoo felt like you'd wanna be tagged in this so you can see dndnndndnd ('cus I know you like these)

Anyway I felt like posting incorrect FNAF quotes again here ya go (under the cut)

may accidentally repeat a quote from a past post 'cus I've made too many to keep track of and it's been a while ok-

quotes taken from the Perchance generator, I just insert the characters in manually if I find something I can work with

One quote features my hc version of the FNAF 3 guard (maybe I'll post more about that someday I just wanted to use her for one quote).

Toy Freddy: I need a long word.  Toy Bonnie: T-rex but the long one.

-

Jeremy Fitzgerald: How do you do that?  Michael Afton: I'm fearless.  Fritz Smith: I saw you run from bees yesterday. You flailed around and tripped over a chair. It was both hysterical and sad.  Michael Afton: I'm mostly fearless. 

-

Golden Freddy: Slash gamemode creative.  Freddy: Dude, this isn't Min-  Golden Freddy: *starts levitating* 

-

Funtime Freddy: Okay, two person huddle.  Bon-Bon: You can't huddle with two people. This is just a hug.  -

Toy Chica: You're pathetic!  Toy Bonnie: You're pathetic-er!  The Puppet: You're both losers.

-

Michael Afton: Can you name a single city in Oklahoma?  Ennard: Oklahoma City, bitch! 

-

Jeremy Fitzgerald: Let’s watch Sharkboy and Lavagirl.  Fritz Smith: Okay.  Jeremy Fitzgerald: And make out during the scary parts.  Fritz Smith: Th-  Fritz Smith: The scary parts.  Fritz Smith: Of Sharkboy and Lavagirl. 

-

Monty, tearing up the room: Where are they?  Monty looking under a pillow: Who moved them? Who moved my children?  Monty: Somebody moved my M&M's, and now I am going to start killing.

-

Michael Afton: We've got to find a way to cut down our expenses. What can we live without?  Helpy: Lefty, probably.  (insert lawsuit joke here)

-

Roxy: If I'm extra sarcastic with you it probably means I'm flirting with you or you really annoy me and I can't handle your crap... have fun figuring out which one. 

-

Funtime Freddy in a horrible German accent: Bill Nye is on break, I'm Bill Nein.  Michael Afton: Can I go to the bathroom?  Funtime Freddy, in the same horrible German accent: Nein! 

-

Roxy: Now, if I may speak for good-looking people everywhere...  Gregory: Only as their rodeo clown. 

-

Michael Afton: WHO THE FUCK-  Helpy: Whoa, language!  Michael Afton: I speak fucking English!  Henry Emily: ... 

-

Crying Child: I wanna sleep for 40 hours.  Michael Afton: You know that's called a coma, right?  Crying Child:  Crying Child: That sounds so refreshing, I could totally go for a light coma right now. 

-

Michael Afton: I only have 6 weeks left to live.  Jeremy Fitzgerald: Oh my god, really?!  Michael Afton: It's just a guesstimate based on the choices I've made.

-

Circus Baby: You use humor to deflect your trauma.  Michael Afton: Awww, thanks-  Circus Baby: That’s not a good thing.  Michael Afton: All I’m hearing is that you think I’m funny.

-

Michael Afton: Susie, you're my best friend.  FNAF 3 Guard: Best friend? BEST friend?! Bitch, I'm your only friend.  FNAF 3 Guard: I'M THE ONLY ONE CAPABLE OF TOLERATING YOUR DUMB ASS!

-

Michael Afton: Hey guys, today my brother pushed me, so I'm starting a kickstarter to put him down.  Michael Afton: The benefits of killing him are that I would get pushed way less. 

-

Michael Afton, making coffee: This is going to fix everything. 

-

Daycare Attendant: Do you guys ever have a civilized conversation that doesn't require insulting each other every time you get a chance?  Roxy: No.  Gregory: No.  Daycare Attendant: Didn't think so. 

-

Jeremy Fitzgerald, talking about Ennard: Is this a friend of yours, Mike?  Michael Afton: Kind of? Not really. They're in my life and there's nothing I can do about it. 

-

Michael Afton: *trying to buy a Father's Day card at Hallmark*  Michael Afton: Excuse me, do you have any that just say "You are my dad?"  Associate: Well, I-  Michael Afton: How about "You banged my mom?"  Associate: No...  Michael Afton: You know what, I'll just get a blank one.  Michael Afton: *writes* You are a father. This is a day. Here is a card. 

-

Sun: Hopefully Roxanne has learned a lesson about respecting other people's feelings.  Roxy: Oh, shut up and die Sun.

-

Fritz Smith: My future partner must be brave, strong, intelligent, successful and organized.  Jeremy Fitzgerald: *steps on a caterpillar and proceeds to drop to his knees and sob while apologizing profusely*  Fritz Smith: That one. I want that one.

-

Glamrock Freddy: Vanessa, is that legal?  Vanessa: When there's no cops around, anything's legal!

-

Toy Chica: I sort of did something and I need some advice, but I don't want a lot of judgment and criticism.  The Puppet: And you came to me? 

-

William Afton: What goes up but never comes down?  Michael Afton: The amount of stress you're bringing this family. 

-

Gregory: I wish I could control wasps and bees to sting my enemies.  Glamrock Freddy: You’re too young to have enemies.  Gregory: You don’t even know. 

-

Vanessa: Here are two pictures. one of them is your room, and the other is the garbage dump.  Monty: *points at a picture* That one is the dump.  Vanessa: tHEY'RE BOTH YOUR ROOM!  -

Funtime Freddy: The time to act is now.  Funtime Freddy: Wink, wink.  Circus Baby: Don't say "wink wink". Just wink.  Funtime Freddy: Oh, sorry.  Funtime Freddy: Wink. 

-

Vanessa: Where are my fucking keys?  Glamrock Freddy: Officer Vanessa, Gregory is around, can you say it a little nicer?  Vanessa: May I ascertain the whereabouts of my FUCKING KEYS?! 

-

Gregory: Good morning. As you begin your day, remember that violence is always an option and often the answer.  Glamrock Freddy:  Gregory:  Glamrock Freddy: ...Please, go back to bed. 

-

Michael Afton: Hey Mr. Emily, do you have any hobbies?  Henry Emily: Swimming..  Michael Afton: Really? That’s cool. I never expected you to-  Henry Emily: In a pool of self hatred and regret. 

-

Michael Afton: So I have made the decision to trust you.  Circus Baby: A horrible decision, really. 

-

Ennard: You should have realised, Eggs Benedict, if the scooper didn't kill you, we would.

[thephantomcasebook]

Friendly Advice or Consultation is Welcome/Needed

I find myself preoccupied tonight with a conundrum of conscious that I'm conflicted on.

See, my old man is on the final level of hospice - fading fast - in fact, a few days ago it looked like he wasn't gonna make it ... which, funny enough, was also the same day that a bunch of psychopaths were going at me here, including that creepy weirdo who literally sends me hate in my inbox like once a month cause they claim "You're lying about the lore ... and I hope they expose you!"

God, fuck off loser, don't you have anything better to do today?

Either way, I love going to bed across the house from my dying dad, thinking I'm gonna be without a father for the rest of my life when I wake up, and my phone is blowing up, cause, some Blackcel galaxy brain can't google properly, and is stalking my blog cause I think the Velaryon's are overrated corporate trash.

Which, you know, it's the internet ...

Luckily I kept my old man breathing his final breaths to myself or I'm sure I was gonna get some fucking loser sending me messages about how they hope my old man dies ... Cause, it's the internet, and they think some mediocre, milk-toast, actress with made up pronouns who hates them are more important than common fucking decency.

But whatever ... Like I said, internet.

Anyway.

So for about six months the hospice care that Medicare is paying for - mostly - has assigned volunteers that come over once a week and spend time with the patients. I guess I can see their point, and I'm not against it in principle. However, I'm conflicted about this ... which is why I'm writing this rare personal post.

So the guy that has been coming over for months now is a really - REALLY - weird dude.

Let me preface.

I'm a trained Detective, I broke the curve for deductive reasoning at University aptitude test that had FBI and other Government Agencies trying to recruit me. The Austin Police Department offered to pay my college tuition if I committed to joining their police force after University, including requesting me to join specialized courses at the Central Headquarter downtown.

I've solved two - TWO - century old crimes - one of which was from using water irrigation records from 1898 - 1908 to exonerate an innocent man and his reputation nearly a century after he died a broken shell who everyone thought was crazy.

I'm not bragging, I'm prefacing this by saying that I'm a very good judge of people and situations.

And there was something incredibly wrong with the man that the Hospice care people sent over. When you meet him, when you talked to him, there is nothing - NOTHING - behind his eyes. He is nice, he is amiable, maybe a bit awkward, but he seemed an empty. And both my mom and I did not like him. I found him incredibly off putting and my mom found him so creepy that she didn't want him anywhere near her.

But it was part of the Hospice program, so we couldn't really say no.

Anyway, so this guy, he strikes up a friendship with my dad - who can barely see and needs a walker to get around. After only a few weeks, he starts staying way past the time allotted. The volunteers are only supposed to stay for two hours - at maximum. This guy started staying for five, six, and even seven hours once.

Now, I work at night straight through the morning ... it's what I've done for nearly a decade. So most of this stuff happens in the late-morning to mid-afternoon, while I'm asleep. So I can't police it all that much. Plus, I just don't like talking to that guy. But I've complained to my mom about it, cause, I don't like the idea of being asleep with that guy in my house alone with my crippled old man.

So, my mother has complained for months to the Hospice Care People about this guy overstaying his welcome. Even my dad was getting annoyed about his long overstaying. But nothing was ever done.

Well, it turns out that the reason that nothing was ever done was, because, his girlfriend is in charge of the volunteers. And, not only that, but he's not actually a part of the system. He's a 'off the books' volunteer that the Hospice Care approves of because his girlfriend is in charge.

So, I went to my mother and I put my foot down, saying "absolutely not" and that the guy has got to go. My mother agreed strongly and she tried to get him taken off my dad's schedule. Then, we've come to find out that he's not even really a volunteer. That he's a retired Postman that his tired girlfriend is basically pawning off on my dad (and me) to give him something to do. And last week, when he was here, we found out that he is moving out of girlfriend's house and that they're having relationship issues and he is in a bad place mentally and emotionally.

My mom, finally put her foot down and said no to the hospice care people. Under no circumstances is he allowed back in the house. Then, today, the guy called my dad, crying and upset, after being told that he wasn't allowed to come back. Apparently, his time with my old man is the only thing he's looking forward too anymore. And my dad reneged on my mom's orders to Hospice as long as he adhere's to the rules (my rules) about no more than two hour and not after 6 PM.

When my mom found out, she completely lost her shit - like full four-alarm freak out.

Now my old man is crying, cause he wants attention, cause, he feels he can't talk to anyone - which is his own fault for fucking up his relationship with me - and I got a potential nutjob that sets off so many red flags calling my dad crying cause his life is over. And my dad is blaming me, cause he says that I won't allow him to have friends, because, I'm strict about people visiting - that aren't family - getting two hours and then fucking off.

So, I don't know.

On one hand, I feel bad, cause the dude, despite looking and feeling very unhinged, has never done anything to warrant banning - other than staying way past the time that it is socially or personally acceptable. He's having a bad go of it in life right now, and he wants somewhere to go once a week. But I feel that it's not the place or position that a dying man with only months left should be put in. Also, I got a really, really, bad vibe from the guy the last time he was here.

I don't want to judge him, cause, I often deal with and judge people the way I would want to be judged, especially nerdy guys ... cause I'm a nerd myself - despite playing American Football for years - and I know what its like to be socially awkward and anxious.

But there is just something off about this guy ... and with his girlfriend trying to get rid of him so hard, and him being visibly disturbed, I just don't want him in my house anymore.

If you've made it this far down the post, I thank you for reading and would love any feedback or advice.

[merulanoir]

I've spent this week listening to Joonas Konstig's book A Year As A Gentleman and it's making me think about so many things that I have known of but which have never warranted proper inspection.

The book's premise is basically Konstig, a self-proclaimed punk author, spending a full year learning how to be a real gentleman. He takes a really fresh look at the history of the term, all the aspects he associates with it, and commits to becoming a gentleman himself. Obviously, there's a lot of talk about appearance, clothing, and manners, but Konstig is a low-income person with three young kids, a wife, and a mean temperament. I really like how open he is about the financial aspect of his project, as well as the sometimes slightly brutal way he talks about himself as a husband and father.

As someone whose own relationship with manhood and manliness isn't clear-cut or easy, reading this book is making me feel like I finally found a new door in my apartment. I knew it was there, but it took me this long to figure out where exactly it was, how the doorknob works, and whether to pull or push. It's not a ready-made set of instructions, but Konstig's descriptions about this inherently masculine, historical concept is giving me some much needed new perspective. I love it.

I'm not sure I fully agree with his definition of what being a gentleman means (sure, fencing is cool but necessary? Debatable!), but something about the aspect of I vs. We, individualism vs. community, and modern habits vs. tradition really speaks to me. It had simply never occurred to me that the truest purpose of etiquette, meaning good manners and formal behavior, is to make sure everyone feels good and included. It's a skill that low-key demands you to shed a little bit of your personality in favor of ensuring others are taken into consideration.

And I know that saying this simplified version of what the book takes 18+ hours to describe is just that, a simplification. Hearing the point I just made caused me to bristle at first because as a typical liberal leftist 30-something, I have been indoctrinated to believe that individualism always trumps tradition. I took for granted the idea that self-expression is the highest virtue, and now I'm adjusting this idea to fit a side that's not even the opposite, more like an aspect of responsibility. Like Konstig says (quoting professor Matti Klinge), sometimes self-expression becomes destructive. Many people Konstig interviewed raised the point that the past wasn't just sheer misery until the modern people invented Fun.

Listening to this book is also making me understand a lot more why traditional values as a term is pretty much an alt-right dog whistle these days, and it makes me a little furious. There's so much good in this kind of tradition, and neofascist losers are working overtime to claim that as their domain. I fully subscribe to the modern ideas about raising children gently and as individuals, but at the same time I'm feeling more certain that this whole "building character" thing is extremely valuable. The difficulty is finding a responsible way to introduce a kid to harsher things and balancing being demanding with compassion.

What I'm trying to say is that I have really struggled with finding a balance with being a queer, liberal man and embracing the parts of my life that are more formal and traditional. I spent two years in the army, and while as a job it's nothing I miss, learning that kind of behavior was valuable. The easiest example is probable saying that yeah, I believe I do owe respect to people who are older and/or more experienced than me, and I'm glad I know how to behave in a way that shows it unambiguously*. I also believe that it's none of my business to dictate how others behave because all I am responsible for is my own behavior. And behaving respectfully is still not the same thing as actually, genuinely respecting someone, which is a distinction that is increasingly vanishing IMO.

Anyway, it's a good book. I'm also a huge fan of understated fashion and sustainable design, and it's a delight to revisit and revise what I know about them. I'm really looking forward to continuing to read more about all this.

* Adding this as a footnote: Finnish as a language has the aspect of a T-V distinction, meaning the way you switch pronouns based on whether you're addressing someone you respect (exactly like the French tu/vous; in written Finnish it is sinä/te). It's something I have done automatically for many years for people who are older than me or otherwise in a position of authority, and which others consider a complete dinosaur-level linguistic fossil. I love it completely unironically.

[the-firebird69]

Not gonna sit here and argue with you trump you're a three year old child you're demented and you're a piece of garbage you were told what to do by my people you follow their instructions so they're gonna get rid of you and you kept on doing your crap so you're going away and you're pointing out the max for us have a happy day loser. And by the way don't let the door hit you in the **** you **** moron. We leave the door for other people of yours your family your friends your clan and yeah talk us she's been the **** she's been cheese man the **** **** man or woman I don't know. They're all going there Bud you're doing the right thing finally.

Zues Hera

I have to tell you something I've had it in for you for awhile I'm finally getting your goat a little and I find out where all committing suicide by doing it. He says so what you're the stupid **** who says that you finally reformed. What I say is we're not gonna ever do anything right here What I say is we're not gonna ever do anything right here and he knows it. No you're doing something right you're pointing out the nozzles those are mine and you're fighting over them that was my idea not to do this in this particular case but it is kind of an idea and it is my father and you used his wife's name in vain cause you're a useless moron. You came up with isis as a terrorist group his name is Ron and really it was you and they're making you pay you get to go to a tomb and stay there until I come and see you. I'm gonna pay you OK like you're paying me moron and you don't have any strength. I don't have any willpower to pay out Social Security and he says so what you're not gonna do it anyway unless you're forced to because you're an idiot back daddy had you paid out that's the investment and the max were behind it and that's how it is you're nothing. There's no argument here you're just this baby screaming and **** you gotta die in order for me to have funding. And other people of yours have to die in order for other people to get money like the populace and don't worry you're dying. And this is gonna bring us to today and part of the above is trump the loser

Zues

We're gonna use your stupid talk against you Trump and we do it every day but you're stupid and don't know it. So gonna rip you apart and kill your people in front of others so they do right now they're going after the banks a lot of them and Churchill and banks these guys know about it but really they're kind of stupid too. If I did Daniel is so cheap he squeaks and you're all dying i've never seen people as dumb as you Daniel you could have swayed and satiated the max while they're getting killed by foreigners and you don't want to do it you're a fool. Of room for you but you have to die for a son to live and so be it.

Thor Freya

Olympus