#immediately. post haste. asap.

[mxtxfanatic]

I just know that the moment Mu Qing ripped the veils off the statues in the Cave of Ten Thousand Gods and the trio found the mural was a religious experience for Xie Lian. I know because it felt like a religious experience as I was reading it.

[queenendless]

😷🤒Sick Day(Adult!SatoSugu x Sick!Fem!Reader)🤒😷

A/N: Yep this is part of that SatoSugu Teacher AU alongside Moving Day and Nights.

Also, announcement. I have smut writing fatigue after just putting out one and I'm down with a cold right now. So that vampire AU gang bang piece is happening next month. I'm so sorry for this yall. Thanks though to everyone who commented on that and helped me decide.

But I will hopefully be posting a JJK Halloween piece to make up for it. A headcannon/ imagined scenario where the JJK cast celebrate Halloween with my ideal fave pairings in couples costumes and such in this what if AU. And yas it gonna be SatoSugu x Fem or GN reader, idk on that part yet.

All credit for JJK and its characters goes to the madman that is Gege.

* Please DON'T plagarize, translate, or repost my FANFIC content. Reblog, like, and follow instead.

I hope you enjoy!

Your throat feels raw.

Your nose feels stuffy.

And you kept coughing every few minutes.

You should have figured spotting a curse forming from a virus epidemic happening in the hotel across the street would pose a high ass risk of getting infected yourself.

But as a Window, it was your job, as life risking as it was.

The more people inside and around the building got infected, the Grade 4 grew closer to Grade 3. If it kept up, dozens upon hundreds would die.

"Ijichi-san. Disease curse. Transitioning from Grade 4 to Grade 3. Requesting sorcerer help here immediately." You struggled speaking over the phone as you kept coughing, dispatching the address to him, seeing the revolting curse grow in size as its toxic presence spilled, tripping as you tried keeping your distance.

Your head was pounding and you could barely focus as Ijichi-san panicked on his end.

"L/n-san!? L/N-SAN!"

In a moment of ailment, you dropped your phone, causing it to disconnect from the impact.

You were barely able to keep a grip on your phone or walk without faltering as you felt more drained with each passing moment. You blinked a lot as you tried staying alert, stumbling before collapsing against a parked empty vehicle on the street, sliding down to your bum just to rest your aching head against your knees, hugging your legs to your chest.

That curse's smogs began spreading down the streets, into traffic, and nearby occupied establishments.

Believing help wouldn't get here in time through the systematic process, you opted for your wild card, shakily picking up your now cracked screen device.

"Toru. Curse problem. Get here ASAP. Please." Texting the address in your feverish haste, you pressed send before curling in on yourself, welcoming sleep to rest your aching self.

In just under the next few minutes — more like moments — you felt a boom in the cursed energy atmosphere, that curse no longer being sensed. At last, it was done.

The shift from freezing metal to cozy soft fabric stirred you awake a bit. Along with the feel of solid warm arms draped around your shoulders and under your knees. Those big smooth hands squeezing your shoulder and your kneecap had you tugging weakly on the front of that top, pressing your face against your makeshift pillow, struggling to open your eyes as your hearing painted the picture for you in the meantime.

"A majority will spend weeks recuperating. The ones closest to the cause will spend months in the hospital at best. Still though, no casualties. Thank you for the help." High chances it was one of the many medics on site for post cleanup.

"You can thank the young woman here for that. She was the first responder, after all. I'll tend to her recovery myself. Sayonara." You know that voice right away, even when he was muffled, relaxing further in his hold.

"This cold isn't going away anytime soon. Too bad reversed cursed techniques don't make the common cold go away." Your half lidded eyes still had him swooning at how frail and precious you were in his arms.

You murmured, noticing him in his black long sleeved top, matching sweatpants, and face mask with the blindfold. "Blindfolded giant." That's when you realized a face mask was put on you as well, your muffled coughs hitting cloth.

You could already picture him beaming, grinning, as he laughed a bit.

"Correction. Your blindfolded giant, darling~ Now then, let's get you home."

°•○•°•○•°•○•°

Geto typing away on his computer, working on his latest reports.

Gojo straddling his lap, hugging him as he napped against his dear best friend slash hubbie.

The former smiling fondly at the motion before picking up where he left off was their situation before both men's phones began vibrating and ringing.

"Geto-san! L/n-san has reported a disease curse spotting! But she was cut off before I could get further details!"

"She just texted me the location." The sleepiness was wiped away, replaced with firm seriousness, as Gojo started getting off of him to get some shoes on.

"Ijichi-san, do not fret. Satoru will handle the curse." Geto calmly responded over the phone before speaking concerningly to his snowy-haired hubbie. "Toru, bring a face mask in case the affected area reaches where you land post teleport."

Said man smooched his hubbie in kind before slipping on the black face mask to match his current apparel. "Wait up for us, Sugu~"

Seeing you both back, teleporting into your home office, Suguru smooched Satoru the moment he took that face mask right off. Pressing the back of his palm against your forehead to double check for a fever, Suguru's dismay was warranted.

So being there when you awoke from your fever dream tucked in the middle of your guys' giant bed meant Suguru patting your now sweating forehead with a wet rag, you trembling from chills raking your skin followed by feeling warmer the next minute as you coughed into a tissue he handed to you.

"Well dearest, you've got yourself a nasty cold here." Suguru noted with a gray face mask on as well, seated by you on his side of the bed.

"Ah bah." Your raspy spat earned you a cough into your fist before you were offered a filled up water bottle by Satoru who was sitting behind you on his side; blindfold off but face mask back on.

"Welp, I exorcized the curse and brought your cute self back here. Plus I got that report to work on in your precious stead. So you're welcome." He gently ran his fingers through your hair to ease you in whatever way he could.

"Thank you Toru." You slowly sat up and were then handed some cold pills by Suguru to down some water with. "Thank you Sugu."

"Now that we've made our home Ground Zero, you are hereby confined to this room. Drink plenty of fluids. Take your medicine. Get lots of rest. Do you hear me, young lady?" Suguru's smart ass tone made you pout.

"Yes mom." You murmured raspy.

Satoru snorted behind his face mask to which Suguru whacked him in the shoulder across from him with narrowed eyes. "At least Megumi and the twins are living in the dorms now and Tsumiki was able to convince her classmate to stay at her place for a while. Meaning we three have the place to ourselves~"

"Does that mean … I have to sleep by myself?" You whimpered, cracking their resolve. "Neither the Gojo Geto bears, nor the Gojo Geto cats, not even the Gojo Geto giant round plushies can substitute for the real deal." You moped, pointing at said custom made toys lined up on the window seat on the far side of the room.

"Aww, Suguru, how can we deny our lovely sweetheart the company of her valiant handsome knights in the flesh, huh~!?" Satoru dramatized his own cries, muffled though.

Suguru sighed, consigning. "At least one of us should. Who else will be teaching the first years in the meantime?"

"Round robin, then? Last one left standing tends to that noble martyr and gets our dear sweetheart to be their own personal nurse in the end … huh …" That hum and those inquiring eyes could only bode mischief. "I volunteer Suguru to go first!"

"Not gonna happen, Satoru." He immediately denied.

"But to be fed by, bathed by and be doted on by our angel is heaven sent~!" Satoru gushed.

"Which is why you shouldn't be the only one getting that special treatment!" Suguru being jealous at possibly being left out on that.

"Hey!" Your strained shout ends in a coughing fit, curled up in bed, sniffling to which Suguru hands you a big enough tissue to blow your nose in. "I'm dying here."

"Hmm … Yu could fill in." Satoru suggested.

"He is working as a teaching aid part time. And he did say he could help out whenever we needed it." Suguru added.

"Plus Nanamin is on a business trip for the week~ He'll need something to do while waiting for his beloved's return~!" Satoru teased.

"That settles it then." Suguru was smirking behind that mask, you could just tell.

"How lucky you are, darling, to have the strongest duo be your own personal nurses~" Satoru was so smirking his ass off.

"Even though you'll literally get sick of me?" You shyly asked, squeezing your bottle, apprehensive.

"We have strong ass immune systems, Y/n. Comes with over a decade of immense training." Satoru prided on, kissing your flushed cheek.

"If we can risk ourselves in the face of death as sorcerers, this is nothing." Suguru assured, kissing your other flushed cheek. "I'll call Haibara."

"I'll start up a bath for us all. Thank you big ass bathtubs." Satoru clapped to that.

"What do I do?" Even when sick, tilting your head and batting those eyes made the duo smooch your lips at once.

"Just be a good little patient for us, alright, honey?" God that wink of Suguru's left you more hot than usual as he walked off to make that call.

"Besides, being sick with you means being granted a sick leave and getting paid for it! Ah, thank you, my darling sweetheart~!" Satoru did hug you, nuzzle his face in your hair, and left you a wheezing mess.

"Y - You're w - welcome!"

Well, on the bright side, at least you'll all be sick together.

Snuggled in bed, among discarded tissues, wrappers of cough drops, and smooshed in one big embrace of entangled limbs while binging nothing but sitcoms, movies, and anime.

You would eventually get better in a week's time then later tend to your two enamored, affectionate partners and get them back into tip top shape.

But until then, being in their cozy arms, sleeping smack dabbed in between them, that might as well be the key on your quick road to recovery.

The SatoSugu cure, indeed!

[dumpsterfireofsubtext]

😂 if it’s canonverse, ava in her haste to get the kids out asap b4 they can disrupt beatrice’s meeting even further and so she phases in and/or out of the room when she goes to get the kids not realizing that’s the most disruptive thing there 😭😭😭

if it’s non canonverse ava, and a no powers universe ava, while trying to grab the kids she probably trips or knocks something down or vv obviously very nearly does so

the only reason canonverse ava didn’t is because she’s a trained fighter and fought in a whole holy (🥁) war and the urgency of trying to get her & beatrice’s kids in and out without being even more disruptive kicked that part of her in, but even then it was probably a near thing lmao

Re this ask and this original post

Canonverse Ava phasing into the room then immediately back out with the kids is a hilarious visual. It would just be a blip on the screen and then the kids are gone,,, like one of those Bigfoot sighting pictures (the only example I can come up with lmaoo).

Non canonverse Ava wears grippy socks around the house 1000% so in trying to slide into the room she just ends up falling face first (maybe…. maybe this was inspired by real events in my life… maybe)

[ersatz-colubridae-888]

hi yes hello i am indeed in ur askbox now. have a yinyang... ignore his chin

Give. Now. Immediately. Post-Haste. ASAP.

[havin-a-wee]

Appointment (Doctor's Orders Part 2)

read part 1 here

send me a request here

masterlist

pairing: gynecologist!harry x reader/doctor!harry x reader

word count: 4.7k

warnings: the filthiest of filth. like im serious this is basically pure smut.

its finally here! im in love with the way this turned out and i hope you guys are too! i got a few requests for this, and im actually really liking these two characters, so lemme know if you want me to make a series out of this!

Y/N's texts are in italics

Harry's texts are in bold

You felt like a kid in a candy store as you skipped out of the building, being welcomed by a setting sun. You weren’t just skipping out of excitement though, it was also because if you walked normally the shaking of your legs would be extremely noticeable. Luckily, when you arrived you had managed to find a parking spot nearby, so it didn’t take you long to make your way to the small black car that you recently purchased for yourself.

A small noise signaled when you unlocked the car, and you slipped into the driver’s seat quickly, shutting the door as you sat down.

You let yourself slouch, your back hitting the leather seat and a heavy exhale pushing through your flared nostrils. Finally, you had a moment to take in the events that just took place, and the excitement and nervousness flowed through your brain. Luckily, there was no regret swirled in with your feelings, although you were sure there wouldn’t be. Okay, maybe it wasn’t the ideal situation to have your first orgasm, but if this was how Harry would make his way into your life, you couldn’t complain. You closed your eyes and sighed, the post-orgasmic haze you’ve heard so much about finally settling in. In the darkness a smiling face appeared, and you grinned as well at the detailed picture of Harry your mind had concocted.

Suddenly, you sat up with a gasp, gripping the gear shift with your clammy hand. You had just remembered about the small piece of paper sitting in your pocket. The piece of paper with the number of the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen written on it. He had told you to text him when he got home, so obviously you had to get home as fast as possible.

Having been driving since you were 16, the motions were second nature, and the only thought you had to put into it was when you were checking to see if there was anyone in the way before you backed out of your parking spot.

Your apartment was only 10 minutes away, and you spent those 10 minutes half paying attention to the road, half thinking about the man that had his fingers inside of you. The thought in itself was causing arousal to pool in your already soiled panties. The expensive lingerie was undoubtedly going to end up in the trash, but you’d rather lose a pair of panties than lose a chance with Harry.

You pulled into your designated spot in the parking garage attached to your apartment building, and ran so quickly to the elevator that you almost tripped on your own feet. Thankfully the silver doors slid open without delay, and you swiftly stepped into the small area. Your manicured finger frantically pushed on the ‘door close’ button. The last thing you needed was someone walking into the elevator with you, seeing your bright red complexion and flushed features. Much to your relief, that didn’t happen, and the elevator lifted you up to the third floor. Objectively, the elevator was incredibly quick. However, in your needy state it felt so slow as if you were riding the shell of a turtle. The loud dinging pulled you back into reality, your mind wandering. You were thinking about what Harry’s hands felt like, and what they would feel like on the parts of your body that he hadn’t gotten to touch.

Yet.

You fumbled with your keys, attempting to grip your phone at the same time. After a bit of struggling, the rigged piece of metal slid into the slot on the doorknob, the door swinging open after you twisted the key. When you tried to remove the key from the lock, it stayed in place, pulling you backwards and almost making you fall.

You smiled at your own clumsiness, not focused enough to allow embarrassment to develop throughout you. Again jiggling the key, it slipped out of the lock and you quickly pushed the door closed using your back. You were left leaning up against the wooden door, flipping your phone screen to face you and sticking your hand in your pocket. You fished around in the small cavity, your fingers locating the small piece of paper that was making you so giddy. You punched the scribbled numbers into your contact app with haste.

Although you wanted to text him more than anything, you reasoned with yourself for a second. Instead of clicking at the keys on your screen, you picked your head up, disconnecting it from the bright touch screen in your hand.

Sucking in a deep breath, you turned back to the phone, satisfied with your attempt to calm yourself.

Hi Harry, it’s Y/N.

Instead of immediately going for something sexual, you wanted to start off the conversation normally. Also, there was the fact that you had no idea what he was actually looking for by giving you his number. His response came quicker than you could of ever expected, the typing bubble popping up seconds after the delivered sign appeared underneath your text.

Hi! I’m glad you actually texted me, because honestly I thought you wouldn’t.

Why would you think that? I would have to be pretty shitty to do something like that with you and then ditch.

I promise I don’t think you’re like that, it’s just the whole thing happened it slightly odd circumstances haha

It’s totally okay I get it, but I definitely don’t want that to be the only time something like that happens ;)

You were feeling bold, now sitting on your bed removing the heeled white boots you wore to match your outfit.

I’m glad you feel that way, because I feel the same. Just curious, when exactly would you want to do “something like that” again?

You giggled while reading his text, practically hearing the pauses of shyness that he would take if he said it in person.

As soon as you want to.

I’m sitting in my car right now about to go home, but I could make a pitstop if you asked politely..

Will you please come over and take care of me Daddy?

You cringed as soon as your finger hit the send button. Sexting was definitely not your forte, and in the heat of the moment you had forgotten that you hadn’t indulged in that kink with him the first time.

Who knew you could be so dirty love?

Send me your address. I'll be there asap.

You tapped away at the keys on your phone, sending him your information and you saw that he read it, but didn’t respond, clearly driving to you already.

Your panties were absolutely ruined at this point, and you made the decision to take them off, gliding the lacy white panties down your thighs and calves. When they fell on the floor, you picked your feet up to remove them from the leg holes, leaning over to pick up the panties with your hand. You wanted to show them to Harry, show him how messy he made you.

You clenched your thighs together, your core pulsing like a second heartbeat. A small whine slipped past your lips, and your eyes widened at your own actions. You had never been this aroused or needy in your life, and while these feelings were new, they weren’t scary like a lot of new feelings were for you. It was exciting, and just thinking about Harry rushing over to you because he wanted you so badly was sending fire through your veins. No one had ever wanted you so much, and you have never wanted someone this much. And it’s exhilarating.

After a painfully long time sitting on the edge of your bed anxiously, a loud knock on the door had you standing up in a flash, sauntering over to the door with unnatural speed. Your arousal began to drip down onto your thighs now that you were standing. The slickness between them had them sliding against one another, but the feeling was overshadowed by the rapid beating of your heart. You gripped the doorknob so tightly that your knuckles turned white, twisting your hand and pulling the door open.

“Ello love.”

He stood in the doorway with his hand resting on the top of the doorframe, towering over you. He had that sexy smirk plastered on his face and you ran your eyes up and down his figure, taking in the man before you. He was wearing a black t-shirt, which was loose but tight enough that his pecs were defined in the shirt. He had on a pair of black dress pants which the t-shirt was tucked into. There were tattoos littering his arms, which you hadn’t seen before because of the lab coat he wore during your appointment.

You thought he couldn’t get any hotter than before, but the person in front of you proved you wrong.

“Hi,” you murmured timidly, your boldness from the texting having disappeared. “Come in,” you stepped to the side, opening the door wider so he could step into your apartment. You closed the door, and against your better judgement you turned to the kitchen, trying to find that desperation that had allowed you to throw away all of your anxieties. “Do you want water or something?” You weren’t sure what to say, so you went with the default offer for a drink.

“No.”

You spun around, looking at Harry and tilting your head in confusion.

“I want you.”

He took a long stride forward and placed his large hand on the soft skin of your cheek, leaning in and connecting your lips with his. His lips were as soft as cloud, and you kissed him back with just as much vigor. The kiss was passionate, mixing moans into the drafty air. You sucked his bottom lip and bit down lightly, and a low growl bubbled up from his throat.

Your heart skipped a beat when his tongue swirled around yours. You jumped slightly at the impact of the wall on your back, Harry pushing you into the cold drywall.

Finally pulling away to allow breathing, you and Harry kept your foreheads pressing on each other, leaning some of his weight on you.

“Y’so beautiful darlin, reckon yeh the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”

His hot breath hit your face when he breathed, and you were squirming underneath him.

“I could say the same for you,” you huffed out, refusing to break eye contact.

“Thank you baby,” he cooed, placing his veiny hand on your plump cheek and running his thumb across it. The tip of his finger reached your swollen lips, and he pushed his large thumb pass them. You eagerly sucked on the digit, hollowing your cheeks and treating it like you would his cock.

His free hand had found a home on your waist, but he hadn’t moved it since he initiated the kiss, and you were getting frustrated. You reached down and placed your hand atop his, looking up through your eyelashes into his emerald eyes. They’re piercing, and you knew that one stare from him would have any girl on her knees.

The tops of his cold rings touched your fingers when you peeled his hand from its strong grasp and your waist. You were looking at him with innocent doe eyes while you lifted his significantly larger hand and placed it back on your side, but this time at the same level as your breasts. He broke the deep eye contact you were sharing to look down at his hand, slowly shifting it to cup you through your thin tank top.

“M’baby girl is desperate fo me huh?” Harry teased you and you nodded frantically, whimpering in neediness. He pulled his finger from your wet mouth and in a split second he collided his lips with yours once again, but they didn’t remain there for long. He dragged his lips down your jaw, sucking and kissing down your neck. You tilted your head to give him better access, moaning when he sucked on a particularly sensitive spot.

His hand that you had moved was pulling and squeezing at your full breast, eventually rucking your tank top up to pinch at your budding nipple underneath. You had removed your bra when you got home, and a small smirk tugged at your face when he moaned at the realization. A sheen of sweat was glistening on his forehead and you lifted your arms straight in the air, giving him permission to remove your top. He pulled it over your head hastily, only breaking the kiss for a moment when the fabric covered your face. You didn’t see what he did with the top, your focus diverted to the feeling of his lower torso. You had removed the hem of his shirt from underneath his pants, only leaving the back part tucked because you couldn’t reach it.

You splayed your hands over his hardened abs, and he snaked his arm around your waist and pulled you closer in response. His head was buried in the crook of your neck, leaving hickey after hickey on the silky skin. He nipped and licked at your skin as if you were a popsicle, sweet and refreshing.

“Daddy, please -- off!” Your moans cut off your words, rendering you unable to form a coherent sentence.

“Y’want me to take my shirt off baby? Such a naughty little minx y’are.”

Despite his teasing, he pulled away from you to grab the bottom of his shirt and ripped it off in one fell swoop.

You barely had time to take in the tattoos on his chest, only being able to identify a large butterfly right in the middle before he looped his arms around your waist. “Jump.” His command was quiet, but you heard it perfectly clear.

You bent your knees and jumped up, his arms following your motions. You lifted your legs and wrapped them around his bare torso. You hugged him tightly, your arms wrapping around his neck and sinking your face into his soft brown curls. His hair smelled of expensive shampoo, and you indulged in the sweet scent. “Behind you,” you whispered, directing him to your bedroom.

Without a second of hesitation, he turned around and carried you to the bedroom. You took it upon yourself to place sloppy kisses on his neck, giving him the same hickeys he had given you.

You giggled when he bent over the bed, dropping you from about an inch off the red comforter covering your bed.

“Don’t know why y’laughin’ pet, cause m’about to fuck yeh till yeh can’t walk.” You gasped when the dirty words registered in your head, and he sported a shit-eating grin on his face. His hands grasped your thighs and he ran them up and down, getting dangerously close to your core. You were writhing under his grasp, pleas for him to do something tumbling out of your mouth. “Patience baby.” He didn’t look up at you when he spoke, instead hiking your skirt up to get a look at your sopping cunt. “Look at you, s’wet already and I’ve barely touched you.”

“All for you, only for you Daddy.” Your words were wailed, every muscle in your body aching for a release. He traced his warm fingers along the crease of your thigh, right next to the place you needed him most.

“Gonna let me have a taste baby? Wanna taste yeh so bad.” He finally looked back up at you, but only for a second before his eyes connected with your glistening pussy again.

“N-no.”

Although you greatly wanted him to put his mouth on you, there was one thing you were craving more.

“No?” His demeanor changed immediately, removing his hands from your body and sitting on his knees between your calves. He removed every source of physical contact you were sharing, and you realized that he took your words in a way you hadn’t intended.

“Still want you Daddy, just want something else.” The second part of your sentence was murmured, and you turned your head to face away from him out of embarrassment. Out of your peripheral vision, you could see him raise an eyebrow, placing his hands by your shoulders and returning to his place hovering above you.

“Look at me little girl. Y’sure yeh don’t want me to taste yeh?”

You followed his command after a beat, looking at his disheveled state.

“What do yeh want baby? M’feelin generous today.” He was speaking in pants, his curls sticking to the perspiration-slick surface of his forehead.

“Wanna taste you Daddy. Please lemme-”

You reached down to unbuckle his belt, but he caught your hand before you could.

“Thas’ what this is all about? Such a slut f’me that you’d rather taste me then lemme taste you?” His hand moved to caress your cheek, running his finger across your saliva coated lip.

“Yes, wanna suck you off so bad Daddy.” You pushed out your lip forming an adorable pout, giving him your best puppy eyes and making sure he saw the tears of desperation welling in your lust blown eyes.

“Alright, alright, how do yeh wanna do it baby?” Instead of responding, you grasped the back of his firm thighs, pulling him up towards your face. He got the hint, shifting his knees to sit by your chest. You were now face to face with his very prominent bulge, and your mouth watered at the sight. Even though you wanted to unbuckle his belt yourself, he did it for you, allowing his rock hard erection to spring free after rolling down his boxers.

He stroked himself a few times, and you lifted your head to try and get him in your mouth. He pushed your shoulder down, and made it clear that he wanted to be in control. Finally, after much anticipation he placed his cock on the tip of your tongue, which you had stuck out for him to do exactly that.

You accepted it eagerly, sucking harshing on the tip of his cock. He moaned lowly, tilting his head backwards in ecstasy. You ran your tongue along his sensitive slit, reveling in the filthy noises and expletives that spilled out of his sweet pink lips.

Once you were satisfied with your teasing, you took him in your mouth about halfway, stopping before you gagged. Your hand made its way to the base of his thick shaft, pumping the part of him that you couldn’t fit in your mouth. You bobbed your head up and down his cock, your tongue twisting and twirling around his member. You made sure to pay extra attention to his tip, giving it kitten licks when you needed to take a breather. Each time you took him back in your mouth, you pushed yourself further down, this time gagging after pushing him all the way down your throat. He stopped his groans of pleasure to look down at you, and he swore he could cum from just seeing you under him with smeared mascara and teary eyes. “Y’ok baby?” You nodded with him still in your mouth. You stilled for a moment, trying to think of a way to tell him that you wanted him to fuck your mouth. His hand was holding your hair out of your face as a makeshift hair tie, and you decided to tap on the wrist of that hand to give him permission. He looked down at you and raised his eyebrows, a silent gesture to assure you were okay with it. You nodded, his cock moving up and down with your head. He didn’t need any more instructions, pushing your head down on his shaft instantly.

You choked and gagged as he took control, moving your head up and down his thick cock. “Doin’ so well f’me baby, taking m’cock like a good little slut.” His purrs of approval were raspy, moan and gasps chopping his sentence up. Periodically, he pulled you off of him, allowing you to catch your breath before plunging back down on his member again.

The sudden pulsing of his cock inside your mouth was a wordless praise, and you were incredibly proud that you were able to bring him to his orgasm as quickly as you did.

He pulled you off of him again, and you heaved a few times as you filled your lungs back up with oxygen. But unlike before, he didn’t bring you back onto his cock, even pulling you back when you attempted to put him back in your mouth yourself. You cried out when he repositioned himself between your legs, back in the place he was when you were first on the bed.

All you wanted to do was finish him off, but he wouldn’t let you for a reason that was unknown to you.

“Daddy!” You were about to beg and whine to finish him off but his index finger on your lips kept you from your begging.

“As much as I’d love t’watch yeh swallow m’cum, I need t’feel this gorgeous cunt of yours.”

You quivered when the bands of his icy cold rings gripped the warm, supple flesh of your inner thighs. They dug into your skin, sending a pleasurable tingling sensation throughout your body, landing in your core.

If you were horny before, there wasn’t even a word to describe how utterly turned on you were now.

Your skirt was already hiked up from before, but Harry wanted it off fully. He ran his fingers across the waistband, finally finding the zipper and unzipping it faster than you could blink. “Bloody hell baby,” he grunted, taking a moment to admire your fully naked body squirming under him, begging for him to touch you. He wished he had a camera to capture you in this state, only thinking about one thing, him.

He stood up, his feet barely hitting the floor before he yanked his pants and boxers off. He was huge, and you stared at his prick in awe, even though you’ve been looking at it. His size was truly difficult to take in, because usually a big cock is either long or thick, not both. But Harry was both and some, and you were convinced that you would be content sucking on it for the rest of your life.

Distracted by your own dirty thoughts, you weren’t paying attention to what Harry was doing, only being shocked out of your haze when he ran two of his fingers across your sticky folds. He pulled his fingers away as your body jolted, surprised by the sudden contact. Strings of your arousal connected your cunt to his fingers, and he cursed under his breath. His fingers were covered in your juices and he stuck the digits in his mouth, sucking happily when he finally got to taste your sweet, sweet nectar.

He hummed constantly when he took the fingers out of his mouth. “Taste even sweeter than I imagined, baby. Could eat y’up all day long.”

You mewled and kicked your legs, tired of all of the teasing. “Daddy... just want you inside me!” He hushed you and reassured you that he would take care of you, leaning over your body and positioning himself on top of you. He lined himself up with you, his tip bumping your puffy clit. You whimpered and Harry took the message, finally pushing his rock hard cock into your soaking wet core.

“Fuck -- Daddy you’re s-so big,” you whined. He tilted forward, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered sweet nothings into your ear.

It took a minute for him to bottom out, Harry pushing in slowly to minimize the sting. There was a bit of pain as your body conformed to fit him inside of your tight little hole.

“Fuck baby, y’so fucking tight, might come just from this.” He had a silly smile on his face, but you both knew there was no joke laced between his words. He latched his darkened lips on an indent by your collar bone, nipping and licking on the skin while he waited for the approval to move.

“Move. Please move.”

The first thrust was hard and fast, he pulled almost fully out of you and then slammed him hips back up into you.

“Shit!”

Just like when you had him in your mouth, you could feel the thick veins running along his sizable shaft. He repeated the same type of movement for the next few thrusts, pounding into you and drawing back out over and over.

“So,” “Fuckin,” “Beautiful,”

Each of his words preceded a snapping of his hips, slamming into you particularly hard after calling you beautiful.

“Feels- feels so good, so good Daddy.” You were sobbing with pleasure. His thick cock filled you up so good it was like he was made for you.

“Didn’t even think it was possible f’someone t’be this tight baby. You’re takin’ meh so well sweet girl, so so well.” He found a rhythm, snapping his hips into yours, your velvety walls engulfing his cock perfectly. Watching himself disappear inside your tight hole egged Harry on even more, as well as the noises that your juices made when he rammed himself inside your pretty little cunt. His thumb was pressed against your clit, circling the overly sensitive bundle of nerves. Pleasure was coursing through your veins, the firey burning feeling better than anything you had ever felt before.

Your hands were spread across his back, nails digging crescent shaped divots into the skin. Each time your fingers dug into the expanse of his back he growled, so you did it after each thrust. His lips were everywhere, kissing and licking all of the exposed skin that he could reach.

“Daddy..”

He took your pebbled nibble into his mouth, unable to resist after watching your tits bounce when he pushed himself in and out of you.

“So good baby, s’like y’were made fo me,” he cooed, your reply dying in your throat when he pressed his lips to yours.

You bit each other’s lips and swirled tongues like you had done at the beginning of the night. After a minute of rough kisses, he pulled away, and you both gasped for air. You could tell his thrusts were getting sloppier, and his cock twitched inside of you like it had when you took him in your mouth.

“Was made for you, just you.”

“Thas’ my good girl.”

His hand instinctively reached for your throat, and you watched his cheek heat up when he realized what he had done. But you grabbed his hand and placed it back on your throat. “Please,” you croaked out, desperate for him to choke you and make you see stars.

He smirked and obliged, pressing on the sides of your throat but avoiding your windpipe. Euphoria overtook your body at the new found sensation and the knot that had formed in your stomach was threatening to come loose. The tightness in your stomach translated to your center, and you clenched tightly around Harry.

“Y’gonna come? Can feel y’squeezin me love, lets come together yeah?” You gave him a tiny nod of agreement, too weak from your impending orgasm to give him a better response. “Let go f’me baby.”

The knot in your stomach uncoiled rapidly, bursting inside of you and sending shudders throughout every inch of your body. Seconds later Harry released inside of you, his hot ropes of cum painting your walls. Your eyesight got blurry and white spots clouded your vision as Harry worked you both through your climaxes. You thought the orgasm he gave you at your appointment was strong, but this one sent you to another plane of reality.

His movements slowed and he removed his thumb from your swollen button, which you were thankful for due to your hypersensitivity.

When you finally came back to reality, Harry was above you, pulling himself out of you. You placed your hand on his cheek, diverting his green eyes to look at yours. “Stay in, please?” He simply nodded, pushing back into you fully. He was already hardening again, but who could blame him? Your face alone was enough to get him rock hard and leaking precome.

He rolled you two to your sides, cuddling into each other’s bare chests. You shared no more words, both of you drifting off to a blissful sleep within minutes. But you didn’t need to ask him to know that this was the first time you slept together, but most definitely not the last.

[somekindoftuber]

vld YouTuber AU (klance, part 8)

(content warning for this chapter: medical stuff, surgery, hospitals)

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven

(full disclosure that I am not a medical professional! I did some research but some things might be off but it���s fiction so just, uh. go with it)

-----

Waiting had never been so hard.

Lance had given the nurses as much info as he could before he was asked to move his car into the parking lot. He barely remembered doing so, quickly returning to the ER waiting room to sit in a chair and try not to break down. He’d called Shiro eight times. No response. He’d call Allura if he had her number, but he didn’t. No one was picking up at the Holt household, either - they were probably at work. Lance sent a frantic “call me asap!!” text to Shiro and then hung his head. He didn’t know how long he was sitting there when his phone buzzed in his hand.

Hunk hey man everything okay? the stream was supposed to start almost an hour ago

Oh god. The stream. Lance had forgotten all about it. He opened twitter to see his notifications blowing up, so many comments that he couldn’t even read them all. It didn’t matter, because they were all some variation of “where is the stream??” and Lance absolutely did not have it in him to do damage control right now.

Lance! @lanceylance stream cancelled due to emergency

Then he closed twitter, dropped his phone into his lap, and put his head in his hands. This had to be a nightmare. He’d stressed himself out over Keith’s visit and was just having a bad dream. Wake up, please wake up.

His phone vibrated. Lance snatched it up - the screen read Hunk’s number. Hunk was calling him. He almost dropped his phone in his haste to answer.

“Lance,” Hunk’s voice came through the speaker at his ear, tinny and distant. “What’s going on? What emergency? Why did you cancel the stream?”

“Hunk.” Lance felt his eyes sting as tears welled up in them, blurring his vision. “It’s Keith. He - he was fine and then he suddenly looked like he was dying, I brought him to the ER, I had to carry him in --” he cut off with a sob. So much for not crying in public.

“Which hospital?”

Lance sniffled loudly. “S-saint Joseph’s, the one on Candler street.”

“Stay there,” Hunk commanded. “I’m on my way.”

Lance could only whimper a confirmation before hanging up.

Someone called his name at some point. He had no idea how long he’d been sitting there, staring at the floor, his face itchy with drying tears. Lance looked up to find a nurse walking straight towards him, and immediately stood.

“Lance McClain?” she asked. “You brought in Keith Kogane, right?”

“Yes,” Lance’s throat went tight and he struggled not to panic. “Is he gonna be okay?”

“Have you been able to contact his family?”

God, why couldn’t she just answer his question? “Not- not yet. I’ve been trying to reach his brother.”

She nodded, looking at the chart on her clipboard. “Your friend’s appendix burst. He’s being prepped for surgery now.”

“Oh my god,” it came out as an exhale. Lance felt hot tears sliding down his cheeks.

The nurse gave him a little smile. “Easy, he’s going to be fine. You got him here quickly, so the danger of sepsis has been minimized.”

Going to be fine. Keith was going to be fine. Lance heaved a breath and sat back down.

He spent the next hour twirling his phone in his sweaty hands. He was hungry and thirsty and the shitty ER waiting room chair was making his ass fall asleep, but he didn’t want to move. He wanted to see Keith, see with his own eyes that he was alive. But Keith was in surgery. A burst appendix, that was - that was really bad, wasn’t it? You could die from that, couldn’t you? No, she said Keith would be fine. They wouldn’t just lie to him, would they?

“Lance!”

He looked up to see Hunk rounding a corner, heading straight for him. Lance leaped to his feet and let Hunk wrap him up in a warm hug, sinking into his friend.

“I gotcha, buddy,” Hunk murmured into his hair. “I gotcha.”

“His appendix burst,” Lance told him, his voice wavering and cracking. “He’s in surgery.”

Hunk guided him back to a chair and sat beside him. “Breathe, Lance, breathe. He’s in good hands, this is one of the best hospitals in the state.” Hunk was rubbing a hand up and down Lance’s spine. “He’ll be fine.”

Lance nodded. Hunk always knew exactly what to say, what to do, how to keep anyone calm in a crisis. He led Lance to the bathrooms so he could wash his face, then bought him a sports drink and a bag of granola bites from a vending machine. Lance couldn’t stand the thought of eating, but managed to choke down some of it anyway.

“Better?” Hunk asked, taking the half empty drink from Lance’s hands and capping it.

“Yeah.”

Lance sat in silence as exhaustion began to set in. He heard Hunk call Pidge and explain what happened, but she was four hours away at a conference. Hunk was promising to take care of Lance for her. Was he really that pitiful?

Yeah. Yeah he was.

His heart went into overdrive when his phone rang, Shiro’s name on the screen.

“Lance,” Shiro sounded even more panicked than Hunk had. “What’s wrong?”

He was so tired, the drop off of adrenaline leaving Lance woozy as he explained what happened to Shiro. On the other end of the line, Shiro let out a long breath.

“I’m coming up,” he said, his voice hard. “I’ll be there as soon as I can. Keep me posted.”

Lance sat in the chair with Hunk for another hour. Other people in the waiting room came and went, the setting sun that streamed through the windows painting the carpet gold. Lance could have passed out where he sat, if it wasn’t for the swift steps coming his way.

A tall man in scrubs with his hair covered by a surgeon’s cap was coming towards them. Lance stood so quickly that his phone and sports drink hit the floor.

“Keith?” Lance asked, the only word he could get out.

The surgeon nodded. “He’s out of surgery. Everything looks good, he should make a full recovery.”

Hunk had to reach out and catch Lance as he swayed, his knees threatening to give out.

“Have you been able to reach any of his family?”

Hunk answered for Lance, who probably wouldn’t have been able to speak if he tried. “His brother is on the way, but he lives on the other side of the state, so it’s gonna be a few more hours until he gets here.”

After they both gave detailed contact info to the receptionist, Hunk convinced Lance to go home and rest. He’d wanted to see Keith, but Lance wasn’t family, so he was denied. Hunk sent detailed texts to Shiro and Pidge about what happened, then loaded Lance into his car and drove them back to the apartment. Lance’s car would just have to sit in the hospital parking lot for a while.

Once home, Hunk had him shower and change his clothes, then practically dragged Lance to the couch, arranging him so that Lance’s head rested in Hunk’s lap. Lance fell asleep quickly as Hunk combed fingers through his hair.

He didn’t dream of anything, and before he even realized he was asleep, Hunk was shaking him awake.

“Hey, Shiro is almost here. I told him to meet us at the hospital.”

Hunk drove them back, street lights flashing over Lance’s face as they went, the sky now pitch black. They were in the ER waiting room for all of ten minutes before Shiro came bursting in like a tornado, going straight for the reception desk and asking about Keith.

“Shiro!” Hunk and Lance ran up to him. Shiro turned to them and he looked like hell, his eyes bloodshot and lined with dark circles. He didn’t say anything before reaching out and pulling Lance into a tight hug. Lance just hugged back.

With Shiro present, they were allowed to see Keith, and Lance’s heart was once again in his throat as a nurse led him and Shiro down a long hallway. Hunk offered to stay behind. They found a room and Lance gasped, because there was Keith. Dressed in a hospital gown, propped up on pillows, an oxygen tube in his nose and several cords sticking out of the collar of the flimsy garment. An IV was dripping into a needle stuck in the back of his hand, a paper bracelet on his wrist. A heart monitor next to him was beeping steadily as his chest rose and fell in a gentle rhythm.

Shiro was already at the side of the bed, so Lance numbly followed. Keith’s skin was ashen, dark circles under his eyes, his hair tangled and dull.

“Keith?” Shiro called softly, setting a hand on his shoulder. “Keith, can you hear me?”

Keith’s eyelids fluttered before opening, drawing a lazy path to his brother’s face. “Sh...shir..o?” His voice was shredded.

“Yeah, I’m here.”

Blinking, Keith seemed to wake up a little more, looking around the room. His eyes landed on Lance and lingered, and Lance smiled at him.

“Hey there, good lookin’.”

The corners of Keith’s mouth turned upward, just a tiny bit.

“Hi.”

Lance let Shiro talk to Keith, who was still pretty out of it - he was probably on some pretty strong pain meds. Reaching out, Lance indulged himself in petting Keith’s hair, smoothing it away from his temple. The roaring hot fever was gone, and Lance breathed a heavy sigh.

Keith nodded off again in the middle of a sentence. Shiro just laughed.

By then it was well past midnight. After talking with the doctors, Lance rode with Shiro back to his apartment while Hunk drove his own car. It wasn’t the setup he’d planned, but the pullout couch was ready with clean sheets, so Shiro brought in the tiny bookbag he’d packed and got ready for bed. Hunk went for Pidge’s room, apparently having already asked her permission. Lance collapsed into his bed, having barely managing to brush his teeth before passing out.

-----

Lance’s alarm went off at seven as it always did, and he snorted awake, groggy and disoriented. He stumbled into the living room, and it wasn’t until he saw Shiro asleep on the sofa bed that he remembered what happened.

Keith was in the hospital. His chest ached as he made a pot of coffee. It was enough to wake up Shiro, who sat up and rubbed at his eyes. Hunk came out of Pidge’s room a few minutes later, and went straight for the kitchen and found the waffle iron.

After blueberry waffles and coffee, Lance let Shiro shower first so he and Hunk could return Keith’s rental car. Shiro had apparently borrowed Mrs Holt’s sedan for the five hour drive, and Lance couldn’t blame him. He’d been in Shiro’s old truck, the shocks were almost non-existent.

Lance showered and dressed, then went to the hospital. He was directed to a different waiting room this time, so he texted Shiro and Hunk to let them know where to go. Hunk had to get back home as soon as he could, so he stayed just long enough to give Lance a tight hug, then he was gone. Shiro and Lance were led to another room where Keith was staying for the next few days to recover from surgery. He was awake this time, though groggy.

They chatted a little, then Shiro left to use the restroom - or at least that’s what he said, but given how he’d shot Lance a knowing smile, it was probably a pretense. Lance went to Keith’s bedside and leaned his face into his hair. He wanted so much to hug him, but he was still hooked up to all sorts of machines, wires and cords everywhere.

Keith patted his arm. “Sorry about the stream.”

Laughing, Lance snuggled his nose against Keith’s scalp. He smelled like sweat and plastic and hospital antiseptic, but he didn’t care. Keith was okay.

“It’s fine.” He frowned. “I mean, I think. I haven’t checked twitter since yesterday.”

Keith laughed softly. “Your followers are probably pissed.”

“I should probably tweet something.” Lance took out his phone. “What should I say? I won’t tell the internet what happened if you don’t want me to.”

Keith shrugged, a dopey smile on his face. “I don’t care. Post a photo of me all wired up if you want.”

“You sure that’s not the pain meds talking?”

Keith laughed again, then put a hand over his stomach, wincing. “Probably.”

As carefully as he could, Lance sat next to Keith and put an arm around his shoulder, then opened his photo app and set it to the front-facing camera. He leaned into Keith’s hair, smiling when Keith leaned back and gave a weak peace sign with the hand that had the IV and heart monitor cuff.

Lance snapped the photo, then showed Keith, who smiled and leaned back on his pillows. “Tell twitter I said ‘I lived, bitch.’”

It was hard not to laugh as Lance carefully composed the tweet, attaching the photo of himself and Keith.

Lance! @LanceyLance Hey everyone, sorry for the cancelled stream yesterday. About an hour before we were going to start, Keith’s appendix decided to go out in a blaze of glory, so we ended up in the ER instead. He’s out of surgery and on the mend! He wants me to tell you all: “I lived, bitch.”

Lance hit ‘tweet,’ then pocketed his phone.

-----

Keith spent another two days in the hospital.

Lance and Shiro visited several times a day. Keith became more lucid, though as the pain meds were tapered off, he looked more uncomfortable. Once he learned the details of Keith’s surgery, Lance understood how serious it was - they really had to slice into him to clean out where his appendix had burst. It would take a month to heal completely.

When Keith was discharged, he was carefully loaded into the back of Lance’s car and driven back to the apartment. He wasn’t cleared for long distance travel yet, so he’d be hanging out here for another three days. He could barely walk on his own, still stitched up and sore, so it took both Lance and Shiro to get him into the apartment and to Lance’s room. They carefully hoisted Keith onto Lance’s bed and propped him up on the pile of pillows that was prepared for him.

“I’ll get you some water,” Shiro said, then left.

In the quiet of the bedroom, Lance carefully sat on the edge of the bed and observed Keith. Some of the color had returned to his cheeks, though his eyes were still lined with dark circles. His hair was visibly oily, as was his skin - major surgery meant no showering. Lance had been there once.

“You’re staring.”

Lance snapped out of his trance to find Keith’s barely-open eyes trained on him, a tiny smile on his lips.

“Sorry,” Lance laughed softly. “You just… kinda gave me a scare.”

“Didn’t mean to.”

Reaching out, Lance took one of Keith’s hands and gave it a little squeeze. “Sorry this weekend turned sour.”

Keith shook his head, resting his other hand on his stomach, over the place where the surgery bandages still sat. “It’s not your fault. I’m pretty sure my appendix would still have exploded if I’d stayed home.”

Lance frowned. “I still feel bad.”

“Don’t.”

“But--”

Keith opened his eyes, tugging on where their hands were laced together. “Lance.” He kept pulling until Lance was forced to lean forward, planting his other hand on the mattress to support his weight. Keith’s other hand came up to cradle Lance’s cheek, pulling him in, and--

Keith kissed him.

It was soft and slow and Keith was kissing him, just a gentle press of lips, and Lance couldn’t even care that Keith hadn’t showered in days because his lips were soft and warm. Inhaling through his nose, Lance leaned into it, letting Keith hold him in place.

When they broke apart with a tiny smack, Lance hovered, lightheaded. Keith just grinned at him and settled back in his pillow nest with a sigh.

Lance’s heart was about to burst out of his chest. “Oh,” he breathed, stopping to lick his lips. “That’s not fair.”

“Sorry, I know I’m kinda gross right now,” Keith said, not opening his eyes. “But in my defense, I was planning on doing that this weekend anyway. I just got delayed.”

Straightening his spine, Lance raised an eyebrow. “Oh, were you now?”

“Mm-hmm.” Keith shifted in place a bit. “Now get over here and sit with me.”

Lance obeyed, climbing up to curl against the side of the pillow nest, reaching for the TV remote. He was intensely glad to have a queen sized bed, flicking on the TV and finding the Disney Channel. He had a shift at work tomorrow, but Shiro was staying to take care of Keith.

-----

Three days later, Keith was loaded into Colleen Holt’s borrowed sedan, finally cleared to make the five hour drive home.

It had been a very, very strange three days. Keith had pretty much lived in Lance’s bed, rarely moving. Shiro had to help him to the bathroom, help him take little psuedo-baths (he couldn’t shower for another week until the stitches healed) and change his clothes, and Keith could only eat soup and soft things. But overall, he seemed in high spirits, asking Lance to bring in his laptop and play Overwatch so Keith could spectate. Pidge came home from her conference, giving Lance one of the most intense hugs he’d ever had.

Keith had complained about feeling gross, especially his hair, so Lance had run to the pharmacy to grab a can of unscented dry shampoo. Although he was skeptical, Keith let Lance use it on him, spraying his scalp and combing it through his now thoroughly greasy hair. It worked a fair amount, and it gave Lance an excuse to play with Keith’s hair.

Now that it was over and Keith was heading home, Lance was going to miss him. A lot. He’d gotten used to having him close at all times, and he enjoyed sleeping next to Keith in the same bed more than he was willing to admit. Lance gave a fleeting thought to the Springdale Community College enrollment website and smiled.

“Have a safe drive,” Lance said, leaning into the car where Keith was buckled into the passenger seat and giving him a little peck on the lips.

Keith grinned. “Thanks, I’ll text you when we’re home.”

As they drove off, Lance put his hand to his chest and let out a long breath, watching it turn into a puff of white in the freezing early December air.

.

TO BE CONTINUED!!

[benes-diction]

You are the Boss: The Benes Heir

((The thing that literally no one asked for. Blame @adrian-tepes666 for humoring my Cato-is-actually-a-ghost-not-a-hallucination speculation. I’ve been working on this on-and-off all day, and now I’m tired and I just want to be done with it, so here.

((Some context: Ghost!Cato possessed Caius in order to save him from death, but something went wrong, he couldn’t un-possess him, and it drove the two mad.

((I have no idea how to design boss fights or anything. I just threw things at a post and said ‘Yup.’))

Type of duty: Trial

Location: Castrum Memoria 

Though the Garlean Empire has fallen, there are reports that the abandoned Castrum Memoria is still inhabited.

Together with your fellow adventurers, venture into the heart of the fortress and discover the truth.

The opening cutscene has the party entering a square arena, with a young, pale-haired Garlean standing alone at the center, facing away from them. At their approach, he turns his head in their direction and smiles broadly before drawing a gunblade. 

This is the Heir.

Throughout the fight, a special dialogue box pops up when the Heir speaks, a copy of the text appearing in shadow beneath the main dialogue, indicating that there are, in fact, two voices speaking at once.

Phase 1 - Madman  Theme: Bite of the Black Wolf (Baelsar/Hydrus theme) Mechanics:  The fight proceeds similarly to other fights with Garlean characters.

Mana Burst: Group-wide AOE, dealing moderate damage.

Innocence: Frontal Cleave, dealing moderate damage.

Delta Trance: Melee attack hitting the target five times.

Magitek Bit: Multiple Magitek Bit enemies will spawn around the arena, casting line AOEs across the room, generally focusing on healer players. 

Order to Bombard: The Heir will point his gunblade to his left or right. When the cast bar finishes, the opposite half of the arena will be bombarded with turret fire, dealing massive damage and applying a vulnerability stack to any players standing in the affected zone.

Blitz: Occurs when the Heir’s health reaches 75%. The Heir will teleport to the center of the arena, sending out large line AOEs in the four cardinal directions and circle AOEs immediately beneath him, as well as targeting four players with pulsing, player-centered moveable AOEs that will deal a great amount of damage. The Line and Circle AOEs created by the heir will leave very little space for the party to safely stand. Players will have to adjust their positions to ensure they are only hit with one of the player-centered AOEs, as two will likely kill them. This signals the transition into Phase 2.

Phase 1 Quotes:

(before casting Order to Bombard) “Pay attention, now!”

(after casting Order to Bombard) “Fire!

(before casting Blitz) “I’ve had enough of you!”

(after Blitz cast finishes) “Fire all!”

Phase 2 - Reflections Theme: Bite of the Black Wolf (Baelsar/Hydrus theme) Mechanics: In a flash of white light, the walls and floors of the arena shatter, and the party falls deeper into the depths of the castrum. The arena is now a large square.

Concentravity: Deals AOE damage, causing the players to be knocked back, stunned, and inflicted with a Down for the Count debuff lasting 10 seconds. While the party is stunned, the Heir appears to snap his fingers, and the walls of the arena become reflective.

After this point, certain mechanics will change, depending on the image(s) reflected in the mirrors, which will either be the pale-haired [Caius] or the red-headed [Cato].

Cruentus: Frontal cleave that hits three times, dealing massive damage. Most non-tank players will not be able to survive this. Applies a Bleeding debuff with heavy damage ticks to any surviving players within the affected zone. The debuff should be cleansed ASAP.

Trucido: Tankbuster. Deals massive damage.

Mana Burst: Group-wide AOE, dealing moderate damage.

Vado: Used before Mana Burst. Applies a Haste buff to the Heir, who will then proceed to cast Mana Burst 3-4 times in a row. After this, the Haste buff will disappear.

Innocence: Frontal Cleave, dealing moderate damage.

Delta Trance: Melee attack hitting the target five times.

Magitek Bit: Multiple Magitek Bit enemies will spawn around the arena, casting line AOEs across the room, generally focusing on healer players. 

Tutis [Cato]: The image of Cato will appear on three of the four mirrors, and the Heir will be shielded on these respective sides. Any player attacking from the shielded sides will be knocked back and take moderate damage. Players will need to move to the unshielded side in order to avoid damage/knockback.

Tutis [Caius]: Immediately after casting, a stack marker will appear on a random player, and all players except the main tank must stack in order to mitigate the damage dealt. There will be little time to adjust party position after the marker appears, so players must be in position before the cast finishes.

Censura [Cato]: A blue orb will appear somewhere on the arena with a health bar above it. The party will be granted a second-level Limit Break bar. Healers will have to heal the orb to full health using the Limit Break. If the orb is attacked or not healed to full in the allotted time, the party will be inflicted with a Healing Magic Down debuff and a Bleeding Debuff.

Censura [Caius]: A blue orb will appear somewhere on the arena with a heath bar above it. The party will be granted a second-level Limit Break bar. The orb will begin casting Quick Charge. A DPS will have to use the Limit Break to shatter the orb’s shield in order to begin damaging it. If the orb’s HP is not below 50% before the cast finishes, the Heir will get a Damage Up buff.

Phase 2 Quotes:

(During phase 1-2 transition) “You’re beginning to annoy me.”

Shadowed Text: “You’ve become a threat.”

Phase 3 - The Fool Theme: Lunacy (Tsukuyomi, Phase 2) Mechanics:  At 20% health, the Heir staggers back and players will be unable to target him. He glows blue, and with a cry, the Heir splits into the images of Caius and Cato. Caius collapses to the floor, and a spectral Cato approaches the party.

An Echo dialogue box appears and Cato says, “I won’t let you die.”

With a swipe of his arm, the arena goes dark and circles appear on the ground while the party is inflicted with Doom and a debuff that prevents healing. Players will need to quickly interact with the circles on the ground to dispel the darkness, all the while watching the ground for Cato’s glowing footprints, as he will be appearing and reappearing around the arena, attacking any players within a certain range of his steps. After the darkness is dispelled, the debuff preventing healing also disappears, and healers will need to quickly bring the party’s health to full to dispel Doom.

Phase 4 -  Death Rattle Theme: Lunacy (Tsukuyomi, Phase 2) Mechanics: In one final, last-ditch effort to protect Caius, Cato uses his waning strength to push back the players and put up a shield between them and Caius, similar to Passage of Arms. Players must attack the shield and destroy it before a gauge fills to 100. If players fail to do so, Cato saps their health, killing them, and revives Caius.

Throughout this phase, as the players are attacking the shield, Cato is pleading with them to just leave them in peace. He begs the party to spare Caius. “He can’t die,” he insists. “Not now. Not here.”

When the players destroy the shield, a cutscene plays.

Cato, already beginning to fade away, staggers over to the now-unconscious Caius, leaning over him protectively, hugging his brother.

“I won’t leave you,” he promises, and a tear treks down his face. “You won’t be alone. I promise. I won’t let you face this alone. I’ll be right here.”

And with that, his form fades away. Caius remains unconscious on the ground.

“Duty Complete” flashes on the screen.

[danfanciesphil]

A spooky prompt where one of them ends up possessed? I leave the rest to you babe

this excites me!!

I'm gonna do the Supernatural version of possession as im a massive spn nerd fan hope that’s cool!

xx

Prompts are temporarily closed for the time being! Thank you all for your submissions, I’ll be posting the ones I have in my inbox asap!

If it were anyone but Phil, Dan might never have noticed a difference. 

Dan can be a little self-involved at the best of times, so if one of his other friends changed their manner of speaking, or began dressing in an unusual way, or stopped eating as much, or did anything that even slightly deviated from their normal routine, Dan’s not sure he would pick up on it. 

But he spends every day with Phil. He knows every little thing about the guy, from the side of his mouth he starts brushing with the toothbrush first, to what theme song he’s most likely to be humming when he first wakes up. 

It’s honestly a little creepy, how well he knows Phil Lester. He finds himself having to play it down in front of other people, because they would undoubtedly find it more than a little odd. After all, it’s not like he and Phil are married. They’re just close friends. 

So when Phil doesn’t come back for almost three hours after he told Dan he would one evening, after a meet up with his brother in town, it’s not all that surprising that Dan begins to worry. 

He texts Phil three times. He calls him. He leaves two voicemails. 

It does nothing to quell Dan’s anxiety that Phil doesn’t respond to any of them. 

Eventually, when Phil does roll in at around nine in the evening, he expects a fantastical story and a long, detailed explanation of how Phil had been roped into a weird drama with some stranger or other, or how he’d clumsily dropped his phone into the Thames. 

Instead, Phil just gives some vague answers to Dan’s questions, rolls his eyes at Dan’s ‘dramatic overreaction’ and slinks off to his room. He doesn’t re-emerge for the whole night, even though they’d made plans to watch the next episode of Bake Off together. 

After that, it only gets stranger. 

Phil begins leaving the house for unexplained, prolonged periods, never bothering to tell Dan where he’s going. He barely speaks to Dan when he is around, and there’s something odd about his voice when he does. It still sounds like him, but the lexicon is wrong, like he’s forgotten how he used to construct sentences. He sounds too formal now, like he’s speaking with a total stranger.

Dan begins to worry that he’s hiding something big. Perhaps something has happened, some family tragedy that’s preoccupying his brain. But Dan can’t help but think that, if this were the case, Phil would surely tell him. 

They tell each other everything. They haven’t kept a secret from each other in years - it’s just easier that way. Besides, they’ve gotten to a point in their friendship where they’re pretty sure there’s nothing that could tear them apart. 

One night, Dan makes dinner, and keeps it in the oven on a low heat until Phil gets home from wherever he is. 

As soon as the door clicks, Dan jumps off the sofa, ambushing Phil in the hallway before he can disappear into his room for the night. 

“I made spaghetti.” Dan blurts at him as Phil removes his shoes. 

From the way Phil reacts to the information, it seems as though he’s never even heard of his favourite dish. “Oh.” 

“Come and eat.” Dan commands, walking back towards the kitchen before he can listen to whatever excuse he’s sure Phil is about to make. 

Phil follows after a while, a bored expression on his face as Dan hands him a hot, steaming plate of spaghetti bolognese. Phil stares down at the food, his nose crinkling in distaste. 

“I didn’t put cheese in, so don’t bitch at me.” Dan says with a chuckle. Phil raises an eyebrow, and takes the fork Dan hands to him. 

He follows Dan out to the dining room table, sitting down after some hesitation, probably because he’s not sure what else to do. 

Dan looks at him for a moment, then decides to just try and be normal. He digs in, winding the spaghetti around his fork and pushing it into his mouth. It’s delicious, he must say. He’s no Gordon Ramsay, but Dan knows how to make a damn good bolognese. 

After a while, Dan glances up at Phil to see if he’s enjoying it too. The fork lies motionless beside Phil’s plate, his food untouched. 

Dan pauses, registering this with some concern. “Don’t tell me you’re not hungry.”

Phil shrugs, glancing around the room, disinterested. “Guess not.” 

Dan places his fork down, staring at him. “Have you even eaten anything today?”

Phil smirks at him. It’s an unusual expression to see on his face. “Why would I eat if I’m not hungry?”

Dan just stares more, perplexed. “To keep you alive, for starters?” Phil laughs, shaking his head pityingly. “Besides, you love food. You’re a self-admitted ‘secret eater’. Is something wrong? Are you sick?”

Phil grins, unnaturally wide. For some reason, it sends the hairs on the back of Dan’s neck upright. “On the contrary, I’ve never, never felt this good.” 

“Right.” Dan mutters, turning his attention back to his plate. 

He picks up his fork again, at a loss for what more to say. His own appetite has dwindled though, and he just twirls the fork around, playing with loose strands of pasta. What once seemed like a delicious, sauce-covered carb-fest, now seems like a lukewarm, slimy pile of congealing worms. He lowers his fork again, disgusted. 

He’s just about to push his plate away, when he sees something move. He peers closely into the depths of the spaghetti, trying to work out if he’s hallucinating. No, there’s definitely something moving in there. 

The thought of it turns his stomach, and Dan pales. He peers closer, trying to see into the mass of spaghetti. 

All of sudden, he realises that it’s all moving, every strand, all of it wriggling and squirming about, just like-

“Holy shit,” Dan cries, clapping a hand over his mouth. He’s seconds away from puking. “Is that-”

“Wow,” Phil says, tutting. Dan glances up; he’s reclining on his chair, tilting backwards a little on the hind legs, watching him with that same smirk. “No wonder I’m not hungry. You’re trying to serve me worms.” 

Dan shoves his plate away, terrified. What the fuck is going on? 

“Is this a fucking nightmare?” He asks, feeling dizzy with nausea. 

Phil cackles, scooting his chair a little closer to Dan, moving around the side of the table so that they’re sat together. 

“You know, in a way I guess it kind of is, Dan.” Phil tells him, placing a hand on his shoulder. 

Even through the fabric of his t-shirt Dan can feel how cold he is - unnaturally so. He flinches away, scooting backwards. 

It doesn’t make sense, but he feels scared of Phil right now. Why on earth would he be scared of his own best friend?

“What’s- what’s going on, Phil?” Dan asks, eyes flicking left and right, searching for an escape. 

“Oh, aren’t you sweet.” Phil says, picking up Dan’s discarded fork and licking the tines clean. It makes Dan shudder; how can he do that, knowing it was just covered in worms? “Philly’s not really able to answer right now, I’m afraid.” 

Dan balks at him, wondering if Phil has lost his mind. 

He glances down at the plate of spaghetti, and sees no trace of the wriggling worms from a moment ago. Which makes him wonder if it’s him that’s losing his mind. 

Phil’s left hand is splayed out on the table and his right grips the fork by its handle. In one, fast, decisive movement, he brings the fork swishing through the air, stabbing the four prongs right into the back of his own left hand. 

“What the fuck!” Dan exclaims, jumping forwards to grab Phil by his wrist. 

It’s too late though, the fork is already penetrating Phil’s flesh, pushed in so deep that Dan wonders if he’ll be able to pull it free. Blood bubbles to the surface at once, dribbling out from the holes into which the metal tines are wedged, trickling over his hand and onto the table beneath. 

“Phil, fuck, why did you-” Dan cries, flapping his own hands because he has no idea what to do. “What should we-”

Belatedly, Dan realises that Phil hasn’t made the slightest noise throughout all of this. He hasn’t so much as whimpered in pain. Warily, Dan drags his eyes up to meet Phil’s, and he immediately jumps backwards, knocking over his chair in his haste to get away. 

Phil’s eyes are jet black. From corner to corner, they are completely, opaquely onyx. Two black holes staring out from beneath his windswept fringe. 

He cocks his head to one side, smiling. He appears to be observing Dan, nothing more. 

Dan’s gaze jumps from between the fork sticking out of his skin, to the terrifying lack of Phil’s usual Bambi-blue irises in those monstrous eyes. 

“Your eyes...” Dan chokes out, feeling his own eyes start to sting in fear. 

All of a sudden, his chair is upright, facing Phil, and Dan is shoved down into it by some unseen force. He tries to move, to wriggle even, but he can’t. It’s as if he’s tied to it somehow. 

Phil pouts in mock-sadness, his lower lip jutting out, and he nods. “Scary isn’t it, Dan?” He says, then smirks at Dan’s expression. “Phil’s eyes are a little prettier than mine, I suppose.” 

He blinks then, and suddenly Phil’s eyes are normal again, that same baby blue peeping out as if it had never left. 

Dan stares at him, trying to piece together what he’s hearing. “You’re... not Phil.” 

The not-Phil smiles, toothily, and winks at Dan in a way Phil never would. 

“Caught on at last.” 

“Who are you?” Dan manages to choke out, though he’s not sure he wants to know. 

The not-Phil sighs, leaning back in his chair. “More a question of what, really.”

Dan waits, not trusting himself to speak. 

“I’m a demon, Dan.” It says, watching him carefully.

Dan struggles not to scream. His heart pounds incessantly. The demon smiles. 

“You’re possessing Phil,” Dan deduces, swallowing around his tight throat in terror. 

“Bingo,” the demon says. “He’s a very comfy vessel, too. Tight. Warm. Soft.” 

“Get out of him.” Dan spits, anger rippling over his skin. “Leave him alone. He’s never done anything wrong.” 

The demon places a hand over Phil’s heart - the one with the fork still jutting out - and sighs. “So sweet. So caring for your bestie.” The demon licks its lips, surveying Dan silently. “He’s in here, you know. He can hear what you’re saying. He’s been screaming at you to notice I’ve taken control for days.” 

“I’ll get you out, Phil.” Dan says, his voice raising. “I will, I’ll do something, I’ll-”

“Shh, shh.” The demon interrupts, and Dan’s mouth clamps shut of its own accord, not listening to him as he tries to prise it open. “All that gushy stuff is so boring. And you’ve just started to capture my interest, Danny.”

He releases Dan’s mouth, at last, and Dan gasps, rolling his jaw around. “What do you want from him?” 

The demon makes a ‘hmm’ noise, tilting back on his chair again. “Good question. You see, the thing is Dan, us demons are getting kind of... bored, as of late. There’s just not a whole lot to do nowadays. People are smarter. They know not to practise witchcraft, or use ouija boards. Sure, you get some dumb ones now and then, but mostly it’s just kind of...” The demon flaps his hands, then shrugs. “Dull.” 

“So you’re possessing a random, innocent guy for the kicks?” 

“No,” the demon sighs. “This is not a random decision, Dan. I chose your best friend very carefully. I did a lot of research before entering him. I don’t take these possessions lightly, you know.”

“So you did it because, what, he’s YouTube famous?” Dan asks. “There are tons of YouTubers. Plenty who deserve a demon inside them more than Phil. Why didn’t you climb inside Sam Pepper? I doubt anyone would even notice.” 

The demon cackles again, and Dan cringes. “How do you know Sam Pepper isn’t already possessed?”

Dan hadn’t considered this. He shrugs the thought away, deciding he can think about that later. 

“It’s not just because he’s a YouTuber.” The demon says, smiling wickedly. “Though it’s to do with that. It’s about your fans, Dan. Both of your fans. They’re so committed to you. They’d do anything either of you would say. They cling to your every word, they throw themselves at your feet, they spend thousands of dollars to wear your names on their clothes, or to play the games you invent, or to send you a message that they know you’ll see.” 

Dan listens, despising the way the demon is framing this. “You make it sound like Phil and I are the leaders of some kind of- of-”

“Cult?” The demon supplies, grinning too wide. Dan says nothing, narrowing his eyes. “Yes, that is sort of how it seems, isn’t it? And oh boy do I love a good cult.” 

It’s sickening, watching this come out of Phil’s mouth, but Dan forces himself to pay attention, to act like it’s not his best friend’s face with his eyes closed in pleasure at the idea of thousands of people being manipulated into mass suicide. 

“When cults get it right, they’re just... delicious to watch.” The demon says, licking along Phil’s lower lip. “All those people, willingly trundling to their own deaths just because of a few cleverly worded speeches, and a dash of false hope...” The demon’s eyes open, flashing black for the briefest of moments. “That’s the most dangerous thing in the world, you know, Dan. Hope.” 

“Our fans are not going to do whatever Phil tells them to do.” Dan says firmly. “You’d have to be an idiot to listen to a fucking YouTuber when making life decisions. Our fans are not stupid. They know that Phil is just a regular guy who films stupid things in his bedroom.” 

The demon laughs, that pitying look in his eyes again when he looks at Dan. 

“Oh Danny,” he sighs, the nickname making Dan’s skin prickle. “You underestimate their devotion to you. Besides, it’s already working.”

“What?” Dan asks, paling. 

“I started out small, of course.” The demon shrugs, getting out his - Phil’s - phone. “Tweeted some things. Asked them for a few favours. Look, here’s one I did today.”

He holds up the phone for Dan to see. There are two tweets on the screen, from AmazingPhil’s account. 

@AmazingPhil Hey guys! Thanks for sending all the pics of your cute dogs yesterday! I have a different request for today o.O [1/2]

@AmazingPhil Take your dogs for a walk somewhere you’ve never been! The quieter the better. Bonus round: if you see a stranger, make friends! Everyone wants to be talked to! Good luck! [2/2]

Dan’s mouth falls open, and his stomach plunges to his knees. “Oh my God. The average age of our fans are fourteen to seventeen.” 

The demon giggles, nodding excitedly. “How many teenage girls do you think will have gone missing by tomorrow?” 

“Fuck,” Dan whispers.

“I’ve done some other stuff too. Brainwashing fans on the street, encouraging them to explore old abandoned houses, or wander into dangerous parts of town, that kind of thing.” The demon sighs happily. “It’s going well, I think I’m getting the hang. I’ve worked out how to sound just like him! I’m thinking of making a video tomorrow asking for some help taking down a few of the more popular YouTubers. You know, spamming their channels with hate, spreading rumours about them sexually assaulting people, all that stuff.”

“That’s so evil.” Dan says, horrified. 

The demon looks at him oddly. “Uh, I’m a demon, Dan. Evil’s in the description.” 

“I’ll stop you.” Dan whispers, his eyes glistening. He means every word, though. “I don’t care if it kills me, I’ll stop you.” 

“Aw,” the demon says, pitying. “No you won’t, Danny. Cos I’m gonna keep you under wraps until I need you! And when I do, I can keep you from saying anything I don’t want you to, like this!” 

Dan’s mouth clamps itself shut again. He struggles, trying to open it, but it’s useless. The demon giggles, releasing him. 

“Then Phil will stop you,” Dan hisses, his jaw clicking as it unsticks itself. “You said yourself he’s in there with you. He can fight it. He can stop you from doing this.” 

The demon stands then, a slow smile spreading over Phil’s lips as it crowds into Dan’s space. Phil’s hands press into Dan’s shoulders as Phil’s face moves towards his. 

In a different context, Dan doesn’t know how this might make him feel. Being close to Phil, in a physical sense, has always been confusing. He used to think that it was because his mind didn’t know how to separate close friendship from romantic feeling, but recently he’s been wondering if it’s something more than that. 

Perhaps the real reason Dan never allows himself to linger too long in a hug with Phil, or to keep their arms linked past a brief thirty seconds or so, or let Phil sleep on his shoulder during long flights or train rides is more to do with the fact that Phil’s eyes are a sharp, penetrating cobalt blue. Perhaps it’s because Phil smells like cinnamon buns and cherry blossom trees. Perhaps it’s because Phil is witty, and he’s kind and loyal. Perhaps it’s because he’s intimidatingly clever, and everyone loves him the second they meet him in a way Dan envies. 

Suddenly, there’s a weight piling into Dan’s lap, and he holds his breath when he sees his best friend’s figure towering above him, one knee either side of Dan’s legs on the chair. 

He swallows, forgetting for a moment that this is not Phil, not really. His hands move instinctively to Phil’s hips. Then, Phil’s eyes flash black. Dan’s hands snatch themselves away. 

The demon laughs. 

“So you think Philly can fight his way out? Honestly, it’s kind of sweet how you two think of one another.” The demon says, smirking cruelly as he stares straight into Dan��s eyes. “I can read all of Phil’s thoughts, you know. D’you wanna know one of his deepest secrets, Dan?”

“Get. Out.” Dan says, wishing he could move to push the demon off him.

The demon ignores him, grinning again. “He loves you, Dan.” 

Dan’s heart stutters. His mouth parts. He tries not to react, because it’s what the demon wants, but he can’t help it. 

“He loves you with every inch of his poor little heart.” The demon continues, sighing. “A shame really. He’ll never get to tell you that himself.” 

“You’re lying.” Dan says, his eyes already stinging with tears. 

The demon shakes its head, slowly. “Cross my heart! Well, Phil’s heart. He’s loved you since he met you. Since you kissed him on the Manchester Eye, all timid and bashful.” The demon reaches out to pinch Dan’s cheek, hard. “Adorable.” 

“Phil,” Dan whispers, looking into the eyes he knows so well, trying to see through them into the depths of Phil’s soul, to find the piece of him still lurking inside. “Phil, I didn’t know...”

“Ugh!” The demon cries out. “What did I say about the gross schmaltzy stuff? Do you want me to clamp your mouth shut, Dan?” 

The demon climbs off his lap, rolling its eyes, and releases the invisible bonds tying Dan to the chair. Dan immediately stands, dumbstruck by the use of his limbs again, not sure what to do now that he has them back. 

The demon sighs at him, folding its arms. “Well, fun’s over I guess. Wanna be locked in your room till I need you? In the bathroom?” 

Dan takes a step towards him, not sure of his plan. He crowds into the demon’s space, making it frown in confusion. 

“Phil,” Dan says hurriedly, knowing he only has seconds before the demon clamps his mouth shut again. “I know you’re strong enough to beat this bitch, okay? You’re the best, bravest, most incredible person I’ve ever met. And I love you too. Obviously.”

The demon rolls its eyes dramatically, lifting its hand to do some weird demon magic, but Dan acts fast, slamming his lips into Phil’s before it knows what’s coming. The demon struggles at first, not expecting it, but Dan just kisses and kisses, trying to reach into the depths of Phil’s mind with his own - to use the strange connection that has tethered them to one another for all these years and haul him out of the depths. 

It doesn’t happen right away, but Dan can sense, even as he kisses the cold lips of his best friend - the lips that are so Phil, and yet so not-Phil that it makes his head hurt - that the demon is struggling with something internal. 

He doesn’t push Dan off, though he could, quite easily, were he at full power, Dan is sure. Instead, he seems distracted, muffled noises escaping from his mouth as he battles something unseen. 

Then, so fast it’s a little terrifying, Phil rears back, gasping. He throws his head back, and screams as a viscous stream of black smoke pours out of his mouth and disappears through the ceiling. 

A minute or so passes, Dan watching in alarm, and then Phil collapses onto the floor. Dan throws himself down beside him, taking Phil by the shoulders and trying to shake him awake. 

After a while, Phil blinks sleepily, swimming back into consciousness. 

“Dan?” He croaks.

Dan lets out a laugh of relief, but it comes out more like a sob. “Hey,” he says through his tears, his hand cradling Phil’s face. “Hey, it’s me. Is that you in there, Phil?”

Phil nods, looking exhausted. “What’s- what’s going on?”

Dan pales, realising that Phil has no idea what he’s doing on the floor. Which means... he likely doesn’t remember any of being possessed. 

Or... anything else. 

Dan swallows. It’s not important right now, he tells himself. “Nothing. It’s okay, you’re just... tired. I’m gonna take you to bed, okay?” 

Phil nods, seeming confused, but allows Dan to help him to his feet. 

After some quick, improvised first aid on Phil’s hand (the fork had fallen out somewhere in the midst of the demon exiting Phil’s body, thank God), Dan slings Phil’s bandaged hand over his shoulders. With some stumbles and unsteadiness, they make it to Phil’s room, and Dan tucks him under the covers fully clothed, not prepared to divest him of clothes after everything that just occurred. 

“Okay,” he says, switching off Phil’s bedside light. They’ll talk about it in the morning, Dan tells himself. “Night, then.” 

He turns to the door, sighing. 

“Where are you going?” Phil asks, sounding bewildered. 

Dan turns back towards him, not understanding. “To bed.” 

“You tell me you love me, then want to sleep in your own bed?” Phil asks. 

Dan’s heart skips a beat. What?

“You... remember that?” 

“Pretty hard to forget something that big.” 

“But...” Dan protests, not sure why he’s even arguing at this point. “On the floor just now, you acted like you didn’t know why you were- like you didn’t remember-”

“I only remember bits from the last few days.” Phil says, sounding confused still. “I remember not being able to move my body. Being trapped. I remember shouting at you for help but you couldn’t hear me.”

“Yeah,” Dan whispers, trying to imagine how awful that must have been. “Um-”

“I remember you kissing me.” Phil says then, a smile clear in his voice. 

Dan chuckles, shifting on the spot. “Um, yeah, that er... that happened.” 

“I couldn’t kiss you back though.” Phil tells him, sounding sad. 

Dan clears his throat. “We could... try again, maybe.” Dan cringes at his own words, wishing he wasn’t so bad at this. “I mean, if you want.” 

There’s a silence, and Dan wishes he could hoover the words back up into his mouth. 

“Come here.” Phil says at last, the urgency of it piercing through the darkness. 

Dan goes to him, obediently, clambering under the covers beside him. He lets Phil wrap his arms around his waist, lets himself be pulled in. 

Even in the darkness, there’s no doubt that it’s Phil now, Dan thinks to himself, placing a hand over Phil’s stuttering heart. 

“We should, um, get some protection.” Dan says without thinking. 

Phil laughs awkwardly. “Uh, I mean, sure. I’m kind of tired right now though...”

Dan flushes deeply, covering his face with one hand. God, he’s a twat. 

“No, no, I mean- fuck.” Dan shakes his head, marvelling at his own stupidity. “I mean like, anti-possession stuff. Sage. Little charms. Tattoos, maybe.”

“Oh,” Phil chuckles, “right. Yeah. Okay. Um, why?”

Dan pauses, realising that Phil doesn’t really know what happened, still. 

“Just trust me.” 

Phil leans in then, kissing him softly, sweetly, but so deeply, and with such intensity that it leaves Dan reeling. 

“I do,” Phil tells him, smiling. 

[anoutlandishfanfic]

Part Two, Chapter Five: Raigmore.

Last time, on A Child of the Stones…

Jamie sent Claire and Julia (aka Faith) thru the standing stones of Craigh na Dun. Claire returned to her own time empty handed, believing Julia to have stayed with Jamie and died in the hours before Culloden. Upon being reunited with her husband, she discovers that Julia had not, in fact, done so. This is troublesome as Claire visited Julia’s grave at Lallybroch in 1968. Jamie asserts that no such grave exists, meaning Julia would return to her ancestral home and be buried there sometime between then (1766) and 1968.

How is this possible? Where and when had she gone?

You can find links to previous chapters here.

April 16th, 2007, 7:45pm; Raigmore Hospital, Inverness, Scotland. Nurse Katie Campbell.

“Abandoned toddler found in Cairngorms National Park by hiker. Unresponsive. Requesting immediate evac to Raigmore Hospital from St Vincent’s.”

The foundling had, of course, been granted permission and arrived post-haste in Inverness ten minutes ago in critical condition.

“She was wearing this?” I nudged the plastic bag containing the clothing the little girl had been found in, an audible squish coming from the soggy outfit. Homespun dress, knit sweater, and cloth nappy had all been hand made along with her crudely fashioned leather shoes.

“Aye, an’ a’ the top o’ Craigh na Dun, no less,” an orderly added.

I rolled my eyes. Granny Fiona had told my siblings and I stories of people and fairies that traveled thru the stones, but I’d never believed them to be anything but what they were: stories.

“Ye ken the standin’ stones o’ Craigh na Dun, don’t ye? ‘Tis an unlucky place, to be sure, Nurse Campbell.” he warned

The head matron snorted in derision behind me, “Dinna listen to Gavin, Katie, lass. He’s full o’ the auld tales.”

“Aye, that I be, Auntie,” Gavin grinned and shrugged, winking cheekily at her. “But who do ye suppose told ‘em to me?”

“Get on wi’ ye,” she shooed him away while trying her best not to smile.

…

11:30 pm

The Pediatric Intensive Care Unit, PICU for short, was quiet tonight. I sat and held her hand as I watched her irregular heartbeat on the monitor. The room was dark and silent around us.

A sudden creak of the mattress made me jump.

Still unconscious, it hadn’t been the child. I looked to the foot of the bed and my blood ran cold.

There, sitting and holding the little girl’s other hand, was a woman I had never seen before in my life. Her clothes were as strange as the child’s had been, a green bodice and skirt made up in an ancient fashion. A breeze that I didn’t feel stirred the curls around her shoulders and I knew in an instant that she wasn’t really here.

Before I could figure out what on earth to say, she turned to me and spoke. “Please,” she begged, her voice melodic and almost otherworldly. “Save my baby.”

I simply nodded, unsure of how to respond to a request from a ghost.

The figure bent over the child and placed a kiss on her cheek, tucking the little girl’s auburn curls behind her ears. With this loving caress from her mother, the child’s heart rate became stronger and her eyelids flickered.

“Her name is Julia,” the woman whispered as she stood. Then, looking at me, asked, “You’ll take care of her for me, won’t you?”

“I will,” I vowed without hesitation.

…

2:00 am

“Julia?” The head matron repeated dubiously.

I shrugged, realizing how strange I must sound, “Call it mother’s intuition, but I think that’s her name.”

“Ye aren’t a mam, lass…” A slow grin spread across the woman’s face. “Unless this is yer way of tellin’ me somethin’.”

“No!” I shook my head, warmth spreading across my cheeks. “It’s just that I feel a sort of connection to her. She doesn’t have anyone, you know?”

“Aye, I ken, poor bairn. Just dinna get too attached to the wee thing.” She patted my shoulder as I left the nurse’s station and headed to my car.

…

10:00 am

Bzzzz. Bzzzz. Pause. Bzzzz. Bzzzz.

I knocked the phone off the bedside table in my haste to silence it. Sliding halfway off the bed, I snatched it off the floor and glared at the screen.

Six unread messages. Three from the Head Matron, my boss, and three from Gracie, my best friend and fellow nurse at the hospital.

Good Lord, they knew I wasn’t on call, right? I was just there and would be again in a matter of hours. What was so important that it couldn’t wait four more hours?

I scrolled thru the texts on my lock screen, still able to read them in the order received.

9am- HM- Yer bairn is awake.

9:15am- Gracie- OMG she’s so PRECIOUS

9:30am- HM- Any chance ye could come in early?

9:40am- Gracie- paging baby whisperer

9:50am- Gracie- PAGING BABY WHISPERER!!! REPORT TO BASE ASAP

10:00am- HM- Need you STAT

“Shit,” I muttered as I hit the button to call my boss.

“How soon can ye be here?” were the first words out of her mouth.

I yanked on my scrubs and ran towards the door, “Be there in ten!”

…

Fifteen minutes later.

Julia’s screams welcomed me as I pushed open the PICU doors. Thankfully, she was our only patient at the moment and wouldn’t upset any other children, but the sound was quickly tying a knot in the pit of my stomach.

“Katie’s here!” Gracie’s shoulders sagged with relief as she announced my entrance.

“What have you tried to get her to settle?” I asked, looking over my shoulder while I quickly washed my hands.

She sighed, “More like wha’ havena we tried.”

I grinned and winked at her.

I had a good track record of calming young children down when our tried and true methods failed, earning me the nickname of Baby Whisperer. It was a bit of a misnomer, though, as I was as normal as could be with infants.

Julia sat upright in bed, her cheeks red with the exertion of screaming bloody murder. A frazzled nurse looked up as I approached, giving me a thankful smile.

I greeted the distraught child in a sing song voice while still a good distance from her. Her head snapped in my direction and I continued speaking, switching to Gaelic for something new to distract her.

“Much, a eudail, chan eil caoineadh.”  Shh, darling, don’t cry.

Eyes wide and suddenly silent, she stretched out her arms to me. I swept her onto my lap as I sat down on the bed. She took a deep, shuddering breath and melted into me.

“That’s the way.” I praised. Humming, I rubbed her back in gentle strokes until she was at last completely calm. I shifted her in my arms so she could see my face and smiled down at her, “You are such a brave girl, a leannan.”

Her dark lashes blinked slowly as she studied me, quite serious. A tentative hand reached out and patted my cheek as if in thanks.

I took it in mine and kissed it, warranting me a shy smile from the little girl who would quickly become my everything.

[mwitchipoo]

  A few months back, my friend informed me about some documentary about Wax Trax Records. For those who don’t know, Wax Trax Records was both a record store and label based in Chicago, Illinois. Before Grunge took over the U.S. during the ’90s, there was the Post-Punk strains of Industrial music.

The Industrial music genre dates back to the ’70s, pioneered along the way by bands like Throbbing Gristle. (Which I was fortunate enough to catch their reunion tour back in 2009, over at the Brooklyn Masonic Temple.) There’s different sub-genres of Industrial Music, which branches out to Noise and Experimental. Associated acts range from Skinny Puppy, Coil, Psychic TV, Test Department, Einstürzende Neubauten, Clock DVA, Fad Gadget, Nurse With Wound, Foetus, Swans, etc., etc., to more Avant-Garde stuff like Merzbow and Current 93. If you want sheer noise, you can always do Whitehouse. If your goal is to piss off your neighbors, there’s always ‘Christianity Is Stupid’ by Negativeland. By the mid-’90s, Industrial hit the mainstream with acts such as Nine Inch Nails.

Prior to bands like Nine Inch Nails, Rammstein and others, there was Wax Trax. Wax Trax hit its peak during the late ’80s and early ’90s, prior to Grunge as previously noted, and before Rave culture hit the States. Wax Trax became very popular among the Alternative music set. This led to Wax Trax nights across the country. There were tours focusing on the Wax Trax label. Back when I was a teen, I remember seeing one Wax Trax event with a band called Front Line Assembly. One of my own Wax Trax favorites was Front 242.

Fast forward to 2010. By then, both the founders of Wax Trax label had passed away due to AIDS. Julia Nash, daughter of co-founder Jim Nash discovers the label’s inventory was kept in storage in an Arkansas barn. After Jim Nash’s death, his partner in both personal and business moved back to his hometown, taking the overstock with him. When Dannie Flesher passed away, Julia Nash took it upon herself to keep the Wax Trax legacy going. After a successful Kickstarter campaign, The Industrial Accident film was released in 2017, and the soundtrack in 2018.

Thus leads to my own personal events. My friend Christine had been telling me about the upcoming film showing for months. Eventually she got me hyped up to see the documentary. Nostalgia kicked in. Couldn’t help but reminisce about the days when the label “Alternative” actually meant something. Now, I owed a few favors to Christine. After all, she hooked me up with tickets to see Television and Front 242 (first time I saw then was way back in 1988 or ’89…second time was in 2017) within the past two years. She’s done other things as well. Let’s just say she’s an awesome pal. Christine was going to be in another state during Record Day. She asked me if I could pick up the exclusive Record Day release, being sold at places like Rough Trade NYC.

First things first. Lately I’ve been attending a local Queens writing workshop. It’s something I’ve fallen in love with as of late. It’s facilitated by an amazing woman. She reminded me about F. Scott Fitzgerald while introducing me to Marcel Proust. A local paper even wrote an article about the writing class. I’m in the article photo, even though I look fat. Eh. What can you do. Actually, don’t answer that.

My immediate goal was to attend the writing class, then go down to Rough Trade. It’s been a while since I’ve been in touch with vinyl culture. Within the past ten years, vinyl has been having a cult-like resurgence. I hadn’t had a turntable since 1997. Which meant I’ve been completely out of touch with record collecting culture. Access to my own huge collection of valuable vinyl has been has been blocked, thanks to my father. Basically  lost my whole entire record collection. The only vinyl I managed to rescue are my 45’s.  There’s a few rarities among the 45s, like a Poison Girls single. That’s another story altogether, but I won’t dwell on that.

As I’m sitting in the writing class, I get this nagging feeling that my ass should be heading to Rough Trade ASAP. But I’m an old fart now; I’m no longer that 17 year old who once ripped down a large Skinny Puppy concert ad near NYU. The wheat paste was barely dried on the back when I tore it down a late Manhattan night. It was for the sole purpose of decorating my teenage bedroom walls back in Queens. Then there was that promise that I would get the Record Day exclusive for Christine, who’s done so much for me. As soon as I was pondering all of this, Christine texts me. Guilt kicks in. Need to learn how to be cold blooded. So I pull an ultimate douchebag move to all my writing workshop peers. Claiming it was an emergency, I pack up my junk, and walk out of class. In my haste I even left my Dunkin’ Donuts iced coffee behind. Well, it was an emergency.

As luck would have it, the bus heading towards Williamsburg took like, forever. Despite that a Lyft would’ve brought me there in max, fifteen to twenty minutes depending on traffic. Finally arrive at Rough Trade, jumping at the end of the line like Mark Spitz. A few people standing on the line give me harsh eye daggers. Like they want to cut a bitch.

“Is this the end of the line?” I inquire.

Nope. A Rough Trade employee informed gently that I was not at the end of the line. In fact, the line for Record Day exclusives continued…across the street…down the block…almost at the very end of the block.

Oops.

In my embarrassed Lucille Ball moment, I excused myself. That wasn’t good enough. Slinking away, I felt the judgmental glare of the others. I knew they were silently, but yet viciously accusing me of cutting the line. When I slithered to the end of the snake trail, another employee with a megaphone approaches. He’s holding a paper. The paper contains a list of all the Record Day 2019 exclusives, now exclusively sold out. He reads the list through the megaphone.

The Wax Trax soundtrack, particularly the Record Day exclusive, was one of the first to sell out. Then came all the others. Captain Beefheart exclusive was sold out. Hmmm. I would’ve gotten Captain Beefheart. Motorhead exclusive, sold out. Would’ve brought that one as well. Madonna exclusives, sold out. Hard pass on Madonna. What else? Duran Duran exclusive sold out. Hey! I still love Duran Duran. If I was still collecting vinyl, I definitely would’ve brought that one. The sold out exclusive list was long. When it was announced that even Mutant Ninja Turtles Record Day exclusive was sold out, it was time to jump ship. Yes. Even music by fictional fighting turtles was sold out.

Even if most of the Record Day exclusives seem to be reissues, it was still discerning. On one hand, it was good to see hard copy media still selling. On the other hand, not getting the Wax Trax exclusive really meant one thing, which I have yet to explain. You see, that Wax Trax Record Day exclusive had a valuable item attached. It was a much coveted item. The Record Day Wax Trax soundtrack exclusive contained two tickets. They were VIP tickets to the Wax Trax documentary screening and the Q&A that followed.  Plus a free concert by Cold Cave and Ministry who was doing strictly a late ’80s/early ’90s set, connected to the Wax Trax era. Now who wouldn’t want that? That’s what my friend Christine really wanted. That’s what I was hyped up about. Those VIP tickets.

All hope was abandoned. The consolation prize was going home to finally catch up on some much needed sleep. It was an unusually hot Spring afternoon. Global warming wasn’t kind to me, as I stood overdressed on the gentrified pavement. As I was walking towards the L subway, I hear someone call my name. Turning around, it was my friend Michael. Michael was someone I had met two years ago at a Gary Numan concert. We followed each other on Facebook. Michael and me begin a conversation. He was on his way back to Rough Trade, to get his Bauhaus Record Day exclusive signed by David J. David J’s signing wasn’t scheduled until five p.m. It’s been a long week for me, so I suggest we should sit down somewhere to continue the conversation. Michael informs me that he also had purchased the Record Day exclusives for Duran Duran, and the Wax Trax soundtrack.

We locate an OG bar, one without the stench of pretentious hipsters. It wasn’t a dive bar per say. Instead it was a well maintained watering hole, one that had been opened for decades. Only the tap was updated, featuring some IPAs, and of course, Williamsburg’s own Brooklyn Beer. Michael asked me about my birthday, which had recently passed. There were other subjects discussed. I buy him a drink because we have one thing in common. Our all time favorite band is Siouxsie and The Banshees.

As I’m fetching our drinks from the bar counter, Michael pulls a Hail Mary.

“Happy birthday” he says, giving me one half of the VIP tickets that came with the Wax Trax Record Day exclusive.

I was in shock. Asked him if he was sure, and he was. I profusely thanked him. Michael then heads over to Rough Trade for the David J signing. In pleasant disbelief, I head over to the L train. Of course I texted Christine about what happened. My assumption was she was going to be a bit miffed. Fortunately she was completely cool about the entire situation.

Monday comes around. It’s the day of the film showing, the Q&A, and the concert. I’m more psyched than ever before. Suddenly I’m 17 all over again. There was plans to meet up with Michael before heading over to the venue, which was I head over to the venue, Music Hall of Williamsburg. Gut instinct kicks in again. So I decide to hit up Williamsburg earlier than usual. Sure enough. By the time I arrive, the lines are long. There’s two lines. One for VIP tickets, one for general admission.

Two lines waiting to enter Music Hall of Williamsburg for the Wax Trax event, featuring the film, Q&A and concert. Two lines. One for VIP, which came with the Record Day soundtrack exclusive, and one for general admission. April 2019.

They let the VIPs enter the venue first. I was lucky enough to get a seat for the film showing, last seat on the left, first row. It was the only seat left. The rest was standing room only. A DJ was spinning classic Wax Trax era tunes as everyone waited for the documentary to begin. Others decide to go downstairs to the bar.

VIP ticket which came with the Record Day exclusive of Industrial Accident:The Story of Wax Trax soundtrack.

The documentary itself was quite good. It was a candid, first person look into the rise and fall of Wax Trax records. During the viewing, I got caught off guard by being a bit emotional. One thing about this film, it helped bring legitimacy to a underground phenomenon. Wax Trax and relative labels like 4AD, Play It Again Sam (later to be distributed by Wax Trax), Caroline Records, along with others, was a viable part of music during that era. The film could’ve left David Grohl out, though.

Most of the Wax Trax acts were mentioned, such as Thrill Kill Kult, Laibach, Revolting Cocks, KMFDM, Pailhead, Legendary Pink Dots (who were on Play It Again Sam) and of course, Ministry. How can one forget Ministry. Al Jourgensen and his crew played a massive part in the history of Wax Trax records. Ministry also reconstructed themselves from being a dance New Wave synth band, to the endeavor of the Twitch period, to the Industrial Metal hybrid they later became more known for. ‘Uncle Al’, as Jourgensen is now affectionately known by fans, had his fingers in many pies. As a multi-instrumentalist, he spread himself around with numerous side projects. Besides Revolting Cocks, he was involved with Lard, Acid Horse, and 1000 Homo DJs.

After the film was the Q&A.

The panel, moderated by Andy Wombell, a former employee for Wax Trax records, featured Julia Nash, her mother and former wife of Jim Nash, Jean Payne, Chris Connelly from Revolting Cocks and other bands, and Frankie Nardiello, aka Groovie from Thrill Kill Kult.

Alright, you want to hear about the concert. It was Cold Cave, then the main headliners, Ministry. Strange for me, this was my third time seeing Cold Cave live. Second time seeing Cold Cave within months. First time catching Cold Cave live in 2009, opening for NON.

Back in February or March, I saw Cold Cave live over at Brooklyn Steel. Psychic TV was supposed to open for Cold Cave, but Genesis P-Orridge hasn’t been in good health lately. Psychic TV had to cancel their slot last minute.

Cold Cave did an upbeat set. Not to be rude, but I was waiting for Ministry.

Ministry did not disappoint. Uncle Al was never,ever going to do anything before The Land of Rape and Honey era. Not anything from ‘With Sympathy’, not anything from ‘Twitch’. Probably will never touch material from those two releases for the rest of his life.

What albums he did perform: ‘The Land of Rape and Honey’, ‘Psalm 69: The Way To Succeed & The Way To Suck Eggs’, and ‘The Mind Is A Terrible Thing To Waste’.

Chris Connelly was brought on stage, performing No Devotion, a Revolting Cocks song.

The timing could’ve been more perfect. There’s a line in the song that goes “burn the temple…” Meanwhile, there was news about the fire at France’s famous Notre Dame cathedral. Afterwards they did a song from 1000 Homo DJs. Doing a cover of Black Sabbath’s ‘Supernaut’.

Overall it was a fantastic night. Christine managed to get to the show via general admission, Michael showed up later, it all worked out. Didn’t hang with either one though. I ended up being close to the front row, sans ear plugs. Not being prepared, my ears were ringing for two days after the concert. To recover, I had to forgo listening to music on my headphones during the rest of my weekly commute. Not 17 years old anymore.

  During the Ministry set, some 40 years olds decided to mosh for old time’s sake. Why was I not surprised. One old fart decided to stage dive. I’m thinking “dude, how old are you?” His body almost landed on top of me. As I quickly stepped back, his body slammed onto the floor. Nobody caught him. Guess crowd surfing wasn’t in the cards. Me and another woman who was around my age, yelled “asshole” at him, but he didn’t hear. The music was too loud. He got up, shook himself off,  heading back into the audience. The woman who jeered along with me started to complain about another woman. It was a younger lady, tattooed all over with pink hair, going nuts to the songs. Yet by the end of the Ministry set, both ladies ended up becoming friends. As I was leaving, the two generations of women exchanged Facebook info. If anything unites people, it’s music. There was good vibes all around that night. Such a brilliant event. Which was capped off with an acoustic version of ‘Everyday Is Halloween.’ If only everyday was like this.

http://www.brooklynvegan.com/ministry-played-an-all-80s90s-set-in-brooklyn-to-celebrate-wax-trax-pics-video-setlist/

My concert high continued all throughout the next day. Eventually it came crashing down Tuesday evening, while riding the R train back to Queens. Some crazy homeless man threatened to climb into everyone’s bedroom windows with the intent to kill. His reasoning was to avenge himself for not receiving any spare change on the subway.  Welcome back to reality, kiddo.

Additional Links:

https://cherryberry321.wordpress.com/

https://www.indymetalvault.com/2017/12/01/a-beginners-guide-to-wax-trax-records/

https://www.chicagoreader.com/chicago/the-new-documentary-industrial-accident-portrays-chicagos-wax-trax-records-as-a-romance-etched-in-vinyl/Content?oid=49381095

https://theknow.denverpost.com/2018/11/07/wax-trax-denver-history/200444/

https://kimsloans.wordpress.com/colorado-local/local-vinyl/wax-trax-records/

https://www.revolvermag.com/music/ministry-nin-10-things-we-learned-wax-trax-doc-industrial-accident#6-ministryfront-242-side-project-revolting-cocks-signature-sound-was-born-happy-accident

https://www.oregonmusicnews.com/wax-trax-reel-music36

https://www.chicagoreader.com/chicago/the-ballad-of-jim-and-dannie/Content?oid=888822

https://www.treblezine.com/industrial-accident-wax-trax-records-fearlessness-folly/

https://www.decibelmagazine.com/2019/04/25/live-film-review-industrial-accident-the-story-of-wax-trax-records/

https://consequenceofsound.net/2019/04/live-review-ministry-wax-trax-brooklyn/

The Wax Trax Industrial Accident A few months back, my friend informed me about some documentary about Wax Trax Records. For those who don't know, Wax Trax Records was both a record store and label based in Chicago, Illinois.