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insanitybl00m · 2 months

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Tales From Under The Wisteria Tree

Chapter 7 - Don't go near the water

When Missa woke up he noticed that it was still early hours of light. He didn’t want to wake Philza but if he could go get them fresh water from the stream he mentioned last night…

That would be helpful. And after everything Phil did for him he really wanted to do something nice in return. Even if it was just getting them fresh water. So he got up and grabbed their canteens.

Yesterday Phil made his way west to the stream, so Missa would go west to find the same stream. Right? He sighed. He never was the best at navigation.

Probably an hour later he stumbled upon the inlet. Where the stream he was looking for rushed into a loch. Or was it a lake? Missa was never good at telling the difference. But he filled up their canteens with the fresh water pouring into the lake.

When Missa looked up he was face to face with a horse. Not Cielo. If you could call her a horse since she was technically a unicorn.

No. This horse had a shimmery blue-black coat. Probably a magical horse. Missa was enthralled with its seemingly glowing eyes.

“Hi there. Aren’t you pretty?”

It neighed. Showing off it’s mane a little.

“Are you a water spirit? A water nymph maybe?”

No response, just the glowing eyes shining a bit brighter. But that was probably Missa’s imagination.

“Is there anything you want? I left my oats back at camp but otherwise I’d offer you some.” The horse bowed down, almost encouraging Missa to ride it. “Do you want–” A neigh, seemingly encouraging it. “Okay…” Missa sat on the horse’s back. It took off, straight into the river. What the hell was happening? He tried to get off to swim to the surface but he was stuck. He was stuck. Oh no. The horse was magical.

It was a Kelpie.

Phil woke up with a start. His chest was throbbing. Almost pulsing with pain.

Missa.

He looked to his left. Gone. Fuck.

“Missa!” He yelled. Nothing. No response. All his stuff was still there, he couldn’t have gone far. Where would he have gone?

The stream? It was the only thing he could think of. He tried to make sure there was nothing else off with camp. Where was his water? He needed water. Missa must have gone to the stream to fill up their water. That was the only reason both their water and Missa would be missing. He needed to go.

So he transformed into a crow. His wings still stung with the harsh pain of pulled muscles but he continued flying, faster, faster.

When he transformed back he noticed the canteens, water spilling out onto the ground. No Missa. “Missa!”

Again no response. His chest felt like a thousand stabbing knives. Magic. Magic was what was hurting Missa.

Water. Water spirits. There must be water spirits in this water. He looked down. A serpent whipped its tail in his face. And so he dived into the water. A serpent-like horse bared its sharp teeth.

Kelpie. Of course it was. Missa was the kindest soul he knew, of course a Kelpie would trick him.

“Let him be.” Stabbing pain again. His charm wouldn’t keep Missa safe for much longer.

Well. Phil should have assumed that would be the answer. He had no weapon. Everything was back at camp. He had to get Missa off the kelpie. Kelpies wouldn’t just let their prey go so easily. He spotted a shard of glass at the bottom of the river. Humans polluting the wild might just aid him for once.

He threw the shard of glass as hard as possible at the Kelpie. It stabbed it right in the eye, giving Phil enough time to grab Missa while the Kelpie was distracted.

He swam as fast as possible up to the surface. Missa would live but how would he get the water out of his lungs? That would kill him right? He really should have learned more about how to save a human’s life. They were so easily killable, how was he supposed to know how to save a human from countless deaths? Luckily the charm he put on Missa yesterday would be enough.

Human lungs were in the chest like fae’s, so if Phil was to push on his chest then maybe it would force the water out?

He was rapidly trying to figure out how to get the water out of Missa’s lungs when all of a sudden he heard sputtering. Coughing. Missa was coughing up the water.

Holy shit. Missa was safe.

He was safe.

Before he realized what he was doing he was kissing Missa. His anxiety rushed away as he felt Missa breathe before pulling him into another kiss.

Something happened. He fell unconscious in the water. And when he woke up he was on the surface. He took a gasp of air before soft lips were pressed against his. Desperate. He opened his eyes and saw Phil. Philza was kissing him.

Philza was kissing him like he had nearly died, which I guess was true. He tried to sit up and Phil pulled away. That wasn’t happening. Missa pulled him back, continuing the kiss.

A neigh distracted the two of them. Phil was ready to fight. Missa stared up at Cielo.

“Oh uh hi!”

Blood red poured over a deep blue flooded Missa’s brain.

“It will never stop being weird to see emotions, but is something wrong?”

More red. Phil had pulled himself off Missa and leaned against a tree.

“Danger?” A nod from the unicorn. “We’re fine. Trust me, Phil saved me.”

Green, sour green, mixed with the sweetness of a touch of pink. A mint green almost. Almost like…

“Concern? You’re concerned for me.”

“You’re getting better at reading her emotions.” Phil said, his voice was rough.

“I’m ok, Cielo. I promise you.” Missa stood up and reached out to pet her. He didn’t really notice Phil standing up behind him.

So when Cielo nudged him hard enough to make him trip backwards he was not expecting to fall into Phil’s arms.

“Got you.”

Despite the fact they were literally making out before Cielo showed up Missa’s face went red. If unicorns could laugh Cielo would be laughing. Instead it was just a neigh that mimicked a laughing sound.

“Our clothes are soaking wet.” Missa said. Changing the subject when he was embarrassed was a habit of his.

“That does happen when you try to befriend a Kelpie.” Cielo whinnied and disappeared on the spot. “Huh, that’s weird. Did she say anything to you?”

“Nope, she must hate kelpies.”

“I do too, especially considering one tried to fucking kill you!” Missa looked away and scooped up the canteens. “Missa…”

“It’s fine.”

“I’m sorry I yelled, but I was terrified when I woke up and you were just gone. I could feel that something was wrong.”

“I was just trying to get us fresh water, do something simple to make up for the fact that you washed my hair yesterday.”

“I did it because I wanted to, not because I wanted something in return. Wisteria. I—“

“It was just meant to be something nice.”

“I know. I just want you to know that anything I do for you is never with any expectations of something in return.”

“We should probably get back to camp.”

Missa was silent the whole walk back. Man, Phil messed up. “Can you talk to me please?”

“Hi. Sorry. I was thinking.”

“You want to hear stories about my kids?”

“You have kids?”

“I never told you? I thought I did. I could have sworn I told you when you were telling me about your son.”

“I don’t remember that.”

“Oh. Well I have two kids. My son is probably about seven—“

“Probably?” Missa seemed horrified.

“He doesn’t really care about his birthday, if he did I’d start celebrating it the second he suggested it.”

“Oh, I guess that’s different.”

“My daughter is six. She really loves celebrating her birthday on the other hand. But she really only celebrates it for the gifts.”

“You have a daughter as well? How do you manage?”

“Well my son is studying abroad right now so that makes it a bit easier for me.”

“Oh, but what about your daughter?”

“She’s staying with her godmother for a bit. She’s a witch and my daughter loves her garden. She’s always helping her grow flowers.”

“You know a witch?”

“She helped me out ages ago, got myself stuck in a situation with some creatures of the fae. She was nearby getting something for a potion she needed, got me to safety and we’ve been friends ever since.”

“Wow, I didn’t know witches were still around. I thought fae stopped blessing humans with magic after the war.”

“Fae still bless humans with magic. But to be a witch you have to be raised with magic infused in your blood from a young age, most new witches are still kids. And most older witches are gone. She’s the only living witch from before the war that I know.”

“Wow.” Missa paused as they were standing in the middle of their camp. “Should we pack up camp?”

“If you don’t mind then maybe we should stay here, our clothes are going to need to dry.”

Spending a whole day at camp with Phil. Oh boy. This was different. Phil was sketching something, leaning against a rock and letting his wings spread across it. He had changed to dry clothes but he said that he needed to wait for his wings to fully dry before putting on a shirt again. Which left Missa trying his hardest not to stare as he pretended to read the book on fae that Phil had left him.

Eventually Phil got up and made his way over to Missa. “What are you doing pretty boy?”

“Reading.”

“Mhm.” He said, almost with a knowing laugh. “What’s one thing you learned about nymphs then?” Missa looked down, oh. The page on nymphs was open. Well obviously he had been reading it right?

“Their life force is tied to an element, like dryads and trees.”

Phil sat down next to Missa. “Yep.” He leaned his head on Missa’s shoulder. “You didn’t read, did you?”

Missa sighed. “I didn’t.”

“Distracted by something?” Stars above, Phil was a shameless flirt.

“No.”

“You’re a bad liar, you know that right?” He said with a laugh, leaning back so that he was spread out on the ground next to Missa.

He huffed before turning around to look at Phil. “You’re all grumpy.”

“I’m tired. Despite the fact I literally just woke up.”

“Yeah but you nearly drowned, that would make anyone tired.”

“I’m fine. I made a mistake again but it won’t happen again. I’m too trusting and it won’t happen again. I’m going to be stronger.”

“What do you mean M-Wisteria?”

“I wasn’t strong enough, I’ll be stronger.” Missa repeated the phrase in his brain, over and over.

“What makes you think you aren’t strong enough?” Phil had sat up and he took Missa’s hands into his own.

“I couldn’t fight off the Kelpie, I trusted it without a second thought. Without you I’d be dead at the bottom of the river. Actually scratch that I’d be dead in the dragon cave. I’m meant to be going on this elaborate quest but I’m really just doing nothing and you’re saving me every single time.”

“Oh Wisteria.” Phil pulled Missa into a tight hug. Missa wasn’t crying. He promised he’d be stronger. He had to be stronger. “You are so, so strong. You don’t need to change anything. Kelpies are notoriously good at tricking people and they aim for ones with pure souls. They aim for those who won’t doubt their intentions.”

“You keep telling me my soul is so pure but that’s bullshit. I’ve killed people phil. Hundreds. Not all by my own hand but nonetheless. I’ve killed people.”

“There’s a difference between killing people with malicious intent and killing those out of necessity.”

“People died.”

“And you lived. You kept those you loved safe, even the universe can’t fault you for that. It’s noble. And this quest? You’re risking your life to save your son. You doubt yourself but everyone around you can see that you are full of good. You are good.” Missa was officially crying at this point.

“Oh darling.” Phil murmured. He placed a light kiss on Missa's head. “It’s alright.” He couldn’t stop himself from crying a little bit too.

“Why are you crying?” Missa asked when he heard Phil sniffle.

“God this is so cliche but seeing you sad makes me sad.”

“Clingy.” Missa muttered as he adjusted so he was still wrapped in Phil’s arms.

“You should get some rest.”

“I’m not moving.”

“Never said you had to, just that you should close your eyes and try to sleep.”

“But then you’ll be stuck while I nap.”

“And get to hold you the whole time? Sounds great to me.”

“Of course you’d say that.” Phil kissed the top of his head again.

“Just sleep. When you wake up you’ll feel better.” Missa sighed but Phil could swear that he drifted to sleep in minutes.

When Missa woke up he was groggy. He was warm though a soft blanket had been wrapped around him. Wait, those were wings. All the more reason to just go back to sleep.

“I know you’re awake Wisteria.”

“No I’m not.” Phil laughed.

“Ok then, I’ll just go back to admiring you then.”

“Stop.” Missa hid his face in Phil’s shoulder.

“So you are awake?”

“Yes idiot.” Phil started peppering him with little kisses.

Missa giggled and lightly shoved him away. He heard ruffling from a bush nearby. “What was that?”

“Probably a squirrel or something. Maybe Cielo.”

“No, I'd know if it was Cielo.”

Then like a blur a humanoid popped out of the bush. She pulled leaves out of her jet black hair before beaming at the pair.

“Hi Papa Phil! Is he my new Apa?”

Papa.

New Apa.

WHAT?

#pissa nation #qsmp #pissa #qsmp pissa #pissa au #TFUTWT AU

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aladaylessecondblog · 4 months

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i embrace what others fear (good tav x gortash pt 2)

TW: Tav is lonely and one of the voices isn't so nice anymore. Smut.

[previous chapter here]

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to lady gortash, I don't know what you said to the temple but I got to sleep in a real bed with a feather pillow! it felt weird. mother says it's because we was on the road too long and I'll get used to it.

The next three letters were carefully written with the stiff pen strokes of children who were still learning to write their letters but by gum were they going to write anyway.

the teacher says we must say thank you. because there is a publik pubblic a school for everyone because of you. I don't like numbers but we get to play games and i like reading about heroes in the books.

too lady gortash, the new clothes are itchy but they donn't got holes

my flower is not sick anymore! thank you.

When Tav doubted she'd done the right thing, she brought out these letters to ease her mind. Four months had passed since the wedding, and they had been some of the loneliest of her life. Oh certainly she was surrounded by enough people that it need not be so, but her friends, those whose company she wanted most--

--letters were all she had of them, with some colder than others.

You should see what Karlach has done with Moonrise Towers. It's a wonderful if noisy place to spend time, perhaps not best for studying...but I am improving the library. Karlach seems to enjoy reading now she doesn't have to worry so much about setting the books on fire, Gale had written.

We thank you for the restoration of our hideout, but it was not necessary. Please do not feel obligated to shower us with such attentions, especially if (as I guess) your husband may be displeased by it. I am sure you have his concerns very much at heart, Jaheira wrote. But if you travel, I would be happy to see you again.

That sort of thing she had expected from Jaheira, from whom she had never expected that much warmth--she didn't know the woman that long or that well. Shadowheart didn't write at all, but others wrote OF her, and how busy she was learning Selunite magic from Isobel (who was settling into the House of Healing with Aylin). Karlach's letters were always long-expected and always short.

Lot of work to be done, but don't feel obligated to run and help us. You're busy enough as it is, said her last, I imagine you do it to keep out of his way as much as you can. I was in Rivington last month, and they were singing your praises...so I guess you have managed to make something of this.

The only truly warm letter she had gotten of late, from any of them, was from Wyll. She'd written him a letter after Karlach's last, and his reply came with assurances that he didn't see her any differently for what she'd done.

You do what you think is right, you do what you see will help people, and judgment follows. This is unfortunately the way things go sometimes--well I know it. I know I did not sound pleased by it, and really, I wasn't--I don't think anyone was--but I won't judge you for making this deal. You did what you could to save everyone from the tadpoles...including my father. I'm only glad he never knew what I almost agreed to in order to save him.

It did surprise me to hear Karlach didn't inform you she was making a trip to Rivington, especially since Shadowheart came with her...

That had hurt more than Tav thought it would. That two of her friends had been there, had been that close, and hadn't even thought to tell her they were there. She was in Rivington nearly every day for some reason or another...it would have been EASY to get hold of her!

She ached. She ached for a conversation to see how they were doing, for talk of something that didn't have to do with the goings-on of Baldur's Gate, for companionship from those she'd gone through so much with.

But since Gortash, it seemed most of them wanted little to do with her, as if he were a poisoned dagger they were afraid she'd turn on them.

Tav folded her arms on her desk and put her head down. She'd been back in her quarters looking over the letters in her dressing gown, and despite how relatively early in the afternoon it was she found herself tired.

Her mind drifted.

Dealing with Gortash himself had, strangely, been much easier than she thought it would.

Tav did not see him too frequently during the day unless there was some event she was required to join him for. In which case, he put on all the airs and gave off every indication that their marriage was a happy one. A soft kiss on the hand here, a smirking whisper in the ear there...

(She would sometimes hear the ladies at court gossiping about how lucky she was, and the men joking about the hold she had over him)

Had he been Astarion or Halsin she would have been delighted, but as things stood she found herself increasingly hoping he'd stop doing it...

...because she was beginning to enjoy it, and she wasn't quite sure when that had happened.

With as intolerably rude as everyone has been, I suppose I can't blame you for it, Astarion's voice said suddenly, He falsifies affection even better than I did. But do try to remember it's only a trick...

Of course, she thought, of course it's a trick. He wants to ensure he doesn't wake up with a knife in his back.It's not REAL.

Nothing like what you had with us, love. That was something special, something I flatter myself you could never find with HIM.

Gortash had kept to his word regarding the steady flow of coin to do her charitable works, though he did now and then admonish her for not spending more on finery. An Archduke's wife should look the part, he'd said. She had caved just slightly and bought several gowns with a nauseating amount of brocade silk and lace, and to sweeten things further had taken to wearing more gold-colored fabrics trimmed with black thread. An inversion of his own favored color scheme but similar enough that it pleased him.

A thing which followed into their sex life.

That first night Tav had spent with Gortash had set the tone for all of their future couplings and she found (with no small amount of shame) that she enjoyed it. Lengthy days of working at her several causes, or dealing with catty nobles left her mentally exhausted, so yielding without the need to think was...

(And the fact that those lingering voices of her two loves stopped when she was in his bed helped too. Everything painful just...stopped...when she was beneath him.)

Gortash didn't ask it of her very often, either. Usually once a week, sometimes twice. He hadn't been lying when he said he didn't have the typical man's need for frequent sex...at least, not that she knew. Maybe he was going to Sharess's Caress twice a day without her ever knowing. But when he came to her chamber, or ask her to his, it always followed that he was the dominant one--no matter which of them was on top. Soft scolding if she 'disobeyed', praise for doing as he asked...but if she said no to an evening with him, that was the end of it.

I need him to stop making it good, she thought, I need the kindness to stop, I need him to be that vicious evil cunt he's always been.

Why was he behaving like this? It didn't make any sense, but she found herself relaxing over it more and more, growing used to those lingering touches and saucy looks and little orders.

He may not love you, but he certainly likes you, Halsin's voice spoke in Tav's mind, That cannot be a positive thing...

Oh, it is no sin to make nice with the one who could ruin it all if they wanted to, came the reply in Astarion's voice.

But it is to be a bedfellow with evil.

"I didn't want to," Tav murmured, "Believe me, I didn't want to, but there weren't a lot of other options."

You didn't need to go this far, Halsin's voice accused. You could have taken the netherstone yourself.

"He knows how to use them, it was..."

A wounded bird may be caged, but you had the choice, my heart. You have done this to yourself.

Tav took several deep and shaky breaths, but the misery finally overwhelmed her. She burst into tears and sobbed on the desk.

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...shuffling of paper beside her...

Tav shifted in her seat, and realized she'd fallen asleep. The light that had been merely waning outside was now turned to full night, and the room would have been dark if not for the fireplace at the far end of the room. She sat up, mumbling and rubbing the sleep from her red eyes said, "Sorry, Berlina, I...I had a lot to do..."

But it was not the chambermaid beside her. It was Gortash, and he was holding Wyll's letter.

She reached up to take it and he lifted it just a little higher. She didn't think it a good idea to snatch it, and waited--certain anger would be coming, in some way or another.

It didn't.

"Apologies," he said quietly, handing the letter back after he finished reading it. "But seeing as it was from the Grand Duke, I wanted to be sure you weren't planning anything."

"That wouldn't solve anything," Tav replied, rubbing her eyes. "I have no reason to be plotting against you."

"No reason? Really?"

My heart, are you so blind as to shut your eyes to everything?

No, Tav thought, No, I'm only saying that to keep him happy. To make him THINK I'm being foolish.

Good work, darling, Astarion's voice said then, Men like him are easy to keep happy.

"We've an understanding I don't want to jeopardize," Tav finally said, "And if I WERE to plot against you, I wouldn't be stupid enough to use notes."

There was a dark chuckle then, and as she got up Gortash moved the chair she'd been sitting in aside and stood in its place.

"That almost sounds treasonous, my dear."

That tone, Tav knew that tone. There was an edge in his voice but he wasn't angry...he was playing at it. He was testing the waters, to see if she was...in the mood. Much like the way he spoke out of the bedroom, he danced around the main point of their...amorous activities, and never asked outright.

But if she doubted his intent at all, there would always come a touch that confirmed it. Today it was his hands on her hips and a slight push against hers.

"And if it should be? What would the Archduke do to someone who committed such a crime?" She lay her head back against his shoulder--a returning hint of her own. "Would it be off with my head?"

The exhausted grief was still there, and she was eager to banish it, to feel something that wasn't emptiness.

One hand came up, and she felt a slight prick from the steel claws of his gauntlet teasing at her neck.

"It's possible he would be in the mood to forgive. I've heard his day has been full of politics and fools and rebellious fires to snuff out. So," The claw on his glove's forefinger traced over her pulse, "Perhaps if this treasonous woman makes amends, the Archduke could be persuaded to show mercy."

Darling, he's so utterly predictable, isn't he?

It was easy, so unutterably easy, to stay slack, to cast out the doubt, to simply obey.

(She could practically FEEL Halsin glowering at her from some unseen point. When had his voice in her mind turned so cruel?)

To obey evil is to let it win.

"Or," Gortash took a seat in the chair he'd moved, and tugged her down into his lap, "Perhaps that would be too generous, and he should treat a traitor as such."

"And if that traitor thinks she has done right?"

"Then she needs to be reminded," he whispered in her ear, "That HER sense of right is not the one that matters."

There was a slight laugh then.

"The Archduke must think everything belongs to him," Tav replied in a mildly defiant tone. "He should be willing to prove it, if he truly thinks it is so."

In silence Gortash opened her dressing gown and bared her body to the open air; a second later the gauntlet's claws were gripping at one of her breasts.

She tensed slightly, and felt him smirk against her neck as he went on. The claws were a slight stinging pain and yet--and yet there was something about that pain that aroused her.

"No undergarments at all? My, my, perhaps mercy is in the cards after all. But you're being a bit lazy...I believe you'll need to work for it."

She would've reached for his cock but he was still fully dressed with her atop him. She shifted about to at least move her hand over the forming bulge, but Gortash tugged her hand away with his bare one, and placed it between her legs.

"I'd far rather you be prepared to take me," he whispered in her ear, "So go on. Make yourself ready."

The hatred Tav had felt at first when these things would happen was not as strong as it had once been. What good was it to fight, especially when the result felt so good? When she found herself wanting it anyway?

With his hand still over hers, she obeyed, stroking carefully. Awkwardly at first, with occasional little whimpers from the small pain of being groped by that gauntlet. When she thought she was wet enough, she made to pull her hand back--but he pushed it back down.

The whisper that came next was dark, insistent, and by the GODS did it stoke the fire in her belly...

"Did I tell you to stop? I thought you were eager to please."

A slightly tighter grip from the gauntlet, a reminder...

Tav started to stroke herself again, circling and pressing against her clit. She was breathing a little more roughly a minute or two later, when she brought her fingers down and thrust them inside her. A moan sounded off, and she heard a chuckle from Gortash.

The gauntlet moved up, and those claws traced at her lips, pushed just slightly on her lower lip. She opened her mouth and in two of those claws went--gently, but pricking at her tongue. With nothing else to do with it and the heat building in her core, she found herself sucking at the claws.

"Oh, very good," he praised her, "You see, this is what I enjoy coming back to of an evening."

His other hand pressed at the one of hers between her legs, encouraging her to go more quickly.

"I could pay a whore for this, certainly, but...there's nothing quite so sweet as obedience from someone who does it on her own."

A smirk against her neck.

"But this isn't enough for you, is it?"

Tav was zoning out--pleasure was leaping in her gut the longer her fingers teased her clit and worked inside her. The lusty heat was rising, the pleasure along with it and the desperation to race to climax--

Just when she could practically taste it, Gortash pulled her hand away. She squirmed and tried to bring her hand back down, but he wouldn't allow it. The gauntlet was drawn back, two of its fingers absolutely soaked, letting her finally speak again.

"Please--"

"I've decided it's time for you to stop," he said, gripping tightly at her wrist, using the strict tone of voice he always did at these moments. "Are you planning to tell me no?"

"I--"

Tav relaxed as best she could, but the denial of that burning need was agonizing. Fifteen seconds, then thirty...

"Very good," he praised, and Tav couldn't stop the good feeling that came from hearing those words. What WAS that? She didn't know, but she wanted more of it. Wanted more of the almost gentle way that dangerous set of claws were stroking at her neck, the way he was holding at her wrist. Tenderness and a firm hand at the same time. "Now stand up and lean over your desk."

She moved up, her dressing gown still hanging open, and leaned over the desk. Behind her there was a by-now familiar sound--the slight jangling sound of Gortash removing his belt, followed soon after by the sound of shifting fabric.

(Strangely, while he preferred her either nude or close to it, Gortash didn't seem to favor it for himself.)

A sudden thrust of his cock--no warning--forced a moan from her throat as the sudden intrusion spread and filled her perfectly. It was almost painful to want more, and not to get it. The thrusts that followed were certainly pleasurable, but too slow. She wanted, no, needed him to fuck her faster.

But he didn't. Gortash's easy pace stayed just that as his hands moved down--the gauntlet covered hand stayed at her hip, while the other moved between her legs. Just as he gave another thrust he stroked--

It was like lightning in her belly, the sudden leap of ecstasy. Lightning that struck and brought pleasure with it, but left her wanting when it was gone.

"Oh," Tav moaned, "You...utter tease..."

He pulled back and pushed forward, as hard and deep as he could. The fevered sound that it drove from her lips was even more whorish than the first.

"Just what I wanted to hear. Now..." His uncovered hand moved to one of her breasts, and gripping tightly at it he hauled her up and into a standing position. She was leaning against him now, with his lazy thrusts hitting deep enough that she would've let him do anything if only he kept moving.

(She wanted it, wanted HIM, everything he was going to give her)

"Please," Tav found herself begging, "Please, I..."

Gortash's voice turned diabolical, in a way that made her throb, "What do you want, Tav? Tell me. Tell me."

(Why, why, why was she losing control like this?)

He didn't wait for her reply, merely moved the hand he'd had holding one of her breasts down to her abdomen--and now his voice was that familiar, insistent whisper in her ear. "You want a little lord in your belly."

"Please--"

She had never found herself pushed this far before--cried out to be bred in the throes of passion, perhaps, but never did she want it so badly, and never with him.

And then climax tore through her body, a shock of pure unbridled ecstasy that sparked and spread through her body in a rapid surge. She practically screamed out, and shuddered as he kept going through it. Six, seven seconds, more, Tav didn't know; all she knew was that for that short period all was right with the world.

Or at least, she felt heavenly enough to think of nothing else.

Gortash groaned and suddenly stopped--his body gave a shudder of its own--and there was a sudden warm pulse inside her.

For a few moments they stood there, relaxed, basking in the glow of satisfaction. There was a kiss at her jawline, and a soft caress at her belly. Then an amused sort of sound, maybe a chuckle.

He let go of Tav, she stumbled slightly from the shakiness of her legs, and she realized the small wounds his gauntlet had left on her hip were bleeding. She healed them, and after catching her breath could stand up a little straighter.

"Clearly I have been neglecting my duties," he said in a soft tone, "What a terrible husband I would be, if I didn't give you what you so desperately need."

She couldn't respond, but as she retied the belt on her dressing gown and turned around to face him, there was no need.

He kissed her, and for the first time in months she didn't feel so alone.

#smut #tav is isolated and guess whos there to make it better #theyre gonna be so mad but bruh they made it so easy for him #gortash x tav #good tav x gortash #gortash bg3 #bg3 gortash #tav #drow tav #bg3 tav #bg3 smut

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gamerdog1 · 6 months

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Devilman Crybaby Review

The human body, for all its flaws, is surprisingly malleable. With the billions of people on this earth, living their own unique lives, one can find a variety of shapes and forms across our species.

But while the body can be beautiful, if twisted, it can also become monstrous. Stories of transformations and deconstructions of the human body have been around since ancient times, with each culture having their own that are passed down from generation to generation. Why is it, though, that we fixate on these tales of human transformation, of monster-hood? Perhaps they confront our fears head-on, tackling tough topics such as bodily autonomy, disability, racism, sexism, and the like. Whatever is the case, stories of humans defying their bodies and undergoing transformations have stayed in the minds of many for ages, and continue to be told and retold for generations.

All of this is to say, that when a major series concerning this type of story is brought to me, I'm sure as hell to pay attention. One of my favorite story arcs is tales of human transformations, so when this anime was assigned to me for this month's Anime Exchange, I was very excited. How could it not be good? Its a guy who turns into a monster! Unfortunately, things aren't so simple...

Devilman Crybaby is an anime series produced by Aniplex, and released by Netflix in 2018. The series, based on the manga Devilman, by Go Nagai, follows a highschooler named Akira and his best friend Ryo. When Ryo and Akira discover a burgeoning population of demons in human disguise, Akira fuses with a powerful demon, and the pair form a crime-fighting duo bent on eliminating the monsters. Along the way, Ryo's motivations become more and more sinister, and Akira struggles with his newfound powers and the responsibility he feels comes with them.

Akira's journey, from 'crybaby' weakling to monstrous hero is shown in a way that prompts audiences to weigh the pros and cons of his new powers. Akira's new powers come with a more conventionally attractive and muscular body, one that brings him unwanted romantic and sexual attraction from women everywhere. He's the fastest on the cross country running team, but is plagued with nightmares of monstrous women. Rather than giving Akira this new, improved quality of life with his demon powers, the anime goes out of its way to show that even though he's a superhero now, his life isn't any easier.

However, it would have been nice if the series pushed this dichotomy a little bit harder. On the surface, Devilman Crybaby is a textbook example of the 'Descent into Monster-hood' story: a plot in which an ordinary human is infected with or otherwise acquires a monstrous alter ego, which they can transform physically into. The human grapples with this newfound power, and must struggle to control their violent urges or incredible strength, as they hide it from family and friends. (gif relevant)

While the first chunk of episodes follow this plot archetype well, giving an interesting take on it, the series doesn't show enough of Akira struggling with his powers for it to feel satisfying. Sure, he has a massive appetite, and runs like a lizard on cocaine, but we never really get to see how his powers clash with his 'ordinary' life. This, then, makes his transition into accepting his demonic nature feel a bit rushed, skipping the most important part of the 'Descent into Monster-hood': the descent itself.

The visuals of this series are... perplexing. Equal parts graceful and beautiful as it is wonky and hilarious, the animation is something that you can't look away from, for love nor money. Characters that are standing close to the center of the shot look wonderful, and move with slick, sweeping motions, their eyes sharp, as if everyone is wearing mascara. But when the camera angle changes, and the shot pulls further back, characters turn into shapeless blobs of color, leading to important characters doing important things looking laughable. A scene where Ryo waves a gun around and beckons for Akira to join him becomes instant comedy once the camera moves to a wide shot, for example.

This, combined with the total lack of shading on any living thing in this anime, leads to a look hurts the series more than it helps. Its amazing how the art style of this show swings back and forth, between really stylish and nice, to ridiculous. At times, I wanted to snap a screenshot of a scene and see if I could fix it myself with shading and more solid shapes at a distance, but its not like that would help.

Adding shadows to characters wouldn't be enough to distract from the most glaring issue I had with this series: its portrayal of women. I know that its basically common knowledge in anime these days, that you shouldn't go looking for good female representation in shonen/seinen series, but I believe that genres and demographics can change with the times. Every modern adaptation of an older property has the chance to do justice where the original failed, correcting the mistakes caused by short-sighted ignorance and old-school biases. Dororo, a series I reviewed earlier this year, shows that this can be done without an issue, without affecting the plot in major ways.

And yet, we have this series, which only ups the ante in terms of making women the target of every crime and misfortune, going out of its way to portray them either as screaming victims or walking pairs of breasts. Out of all the female characters in this anime, the amount that were never shown naked, in sexual situations, or dying horribly is pretty low, possibly zero. Yes, its a dark and violent reboot of an already violent manga, meant to be a cautionary tale about humans being too quick to judge others and destroying the world because of it, but this also came out in 2018. Most people would expect a little bit of decorum, at least.

The first incident, the club scene in episode 1, was shocking, but made perfect sense. An underground sex club full of drugs, topless women, and neon lights is the perfect setup for Akira's worldview changing as he fights his first demon. Its wild, colorful, and the bass is loud and constantly thumping, like a heartbeat. It makes the carnage seem surreal and fantastical, like the audience is tripping alongside Akira.

But then we learn about Miki, Akira's childhood best friend, and her illicit model job which she feels that she must do in order to make money. In one scene, Miki travels to her boss' house, and uses his bathroom to rinse off after getting caught in the rain. Unbeknownst to her, the bathroom has a one-way mirror, through which her boss takes nude photos of her without her knowledge. Later, when Akira meets with Miki on her balcony, a scene that was probably intended to further their romantic chemistry is shattered when we see that Miki is wearing a see-through nightgown.

Then there's Miko, Miki's running rival, whose main characteristic that she is first introduced by is her large breasts that bounce when she runs. Unlike her rival, Miko has a more compelling story, revolving around her accepting a demon into her in order to prove herself against Miki, all for a nickname and a sense of pride. When Miko finally admits her jealousy to Miki, the two share some tears, in a heartwarming scene of acceptance amidst strife and chaos. Her arc, of rising above manipulation and sexual assault to become a powerful monster, had me worried at first, but had me in a good mood by the end of the series. Yet no matter how important Miko is, no matter how cool they make her 'Devilman' form, the show continues to emphasize her breasts, which expand to a ridiculous size and bounce around with each movement like water balloons.

Not everything is horrible in this anime, though. The music is stellar, full of thumping club songs, and a remake of the original Devilman no Uta, the theme song of the original Devilman series. A lot of the soundtrack is now on my personal playlists for writing, because they have this dark, yet energetic vibe to them.

As well, the violence in this series is top notch. In a show where a teen turns into a monster and beats up other monsters, you'd be a fool to not expect some bloodshed. Still, this series lays it on thick, bathing in a pool of yellow and red blood from the carnage of each episode. Akira's transformation in the first episode is a stand-out moment for me, just because of its sheer coolness factor. His eyes, the point-of-view shot from inside the demon's mouth, Akira's chest heaving with effort, its just a beautiful shot that I wish I could print out and stick to my wall.

At times, Devilman Crybaby reminded me of Castlevania, the other major violent, monster-y Netflix anime with critical acclaim. While both shows have vastly different approaches to pacing, monster design, art direction, and nudity, both hit that sweet spot of 'one guy killing lots of monsters in a shower of blood' that kept me coming back for more every time.

Devilman Crybaby is not a bad anime, but its not perfect either. Its visual quality is inconsistent, its main character's story arc could use a bit more polish, and as someone assigned female at birth, it made me pretty uncomfortable with how it treats it's female characters. At the same time, when it looks good, it looks great, especially during fight scenes, which are full of guts and glory.

Still, my mind can't shake this anime's apparent obsession with naked women. Any time they appeared on screen, I wondered what the purpose of them being there was. Is every topless, moaning woman necessary for each scene? Am I supposed to be feeling something other than fear, disgust, or annoyance when they appear onscreen? And would it kill these guys to give Miko a sport's bra when she's running?!

I went into this series with three memories of it, from when I tried watching it when it first released: drug-addled club scene gone wrong, ripping a snake in half, and a guy running weirdly. While I sure got all three of those, they also came with more bare breasts than a womens' locker room, with all the subtlety of a clown. At least, as the end of the day, I know understand all the people shipping Ryo and Akira.

#anime and manga #anime review #review #film critic #anime #anime critique #devilman #devilman crybaby

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th4t-bug · 2 months

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Here is chapter one of Bug's origin story! Ao3 for those who don't like reading on Tumblr:

And now, here we go, because I have gotten the first five followers of this blog as of last night.

The Beginning

(Chapter One of "The Bug")

It's strange, really, how much my life changed in the span of three short months. It feels like forever ago, but I can still remember how this all started so clearly.

I was walking home from school, by myself. It was late, I had to make up a test in one class, and earlier that day had earned myself a detention in another. That's not the point though, what really matters is that it was dark out already when I left. I nervously peeked around each and every alley I passed on the sidewalk, around there I was more worried about getting mugged than the cold- for good reason.

The sound was faint, down an alleyway I was coming up on, but I would already recognize the sound of breaking glass anywhere. My mouth went ever so slightly dry, my backpack heavy on my shoulders, and I made what must be one of the dumbest decisions of my life.

With my hand on the wall, I peeked around the corner.

“Anybody There?” I whispered my words before I processed anything, my throat tightening at the sight before me. I'm still glad to this day that I was so great at being silent, even back then. There, down the alley, was a man, tall, and a nasty scar along the side of his neck. He held a broken glass bottle in his hand, no doubt the cause of the sound I had heard earlier.

And, most importantly to me at the time, backed against the wall in front of him, was Maddie Lane.

Maddie and I weren't friends. I didn't know her that well, but she seemed like a nice girl. And then, as we silently made eye contact over that evil man’s shoulder, she looked so scared. I don't exactly remember what the man said to her, something about money- I just know that I had to act, to do something, and I did before even thinking about it or its consequences.

My backpack was heavy, like a bag full of rocks with how much stuff I had to keep in there, so it’s surprising I was able to slide it off of my shoulders so quickly without hurting myself- and hurl it at the man.

My improvised projectile hit the man solidly in the head with a force that surprised me. The guy didn't even have time to react, the hit was angled enough for the man to fall and hit the brick wall of the side of the alleyway with the back of his head. There was a sickening crack and I fought the urge to heave as I watched the man's eyes roll back into his skull, his form slumped on the ground. There was the sound of my backpack heavily hitting the ground somewhere in the commotion, but if it was before or after the man went unconscious, I couldn't tell you, and there was a shriek (although I don't know if it was Maddie who made that sound, or me).

I was breathing heavily, my vision was a blur, and I was unable to look away from the man's body for a moment before I shook my head and looked up at Maddie, seeing the shock in her brown eyes. “Are…” I trailed off with a nervous swallow, I could still feel my hands traveling. Finally, the words managed to leave my throat, “Are you okay?”

Sure, it might have been a basic question, but that's all I could think of to say. I wanted to make sure she was alright, after what had happened.

Maddie took a deep breath, looking at me as if I was no more than a hallucination. “Yeah, I think so.” She mumbled out, sounding like she was trying to detach from the situation itself.

I was concerned, sure, but to say the least the situation felt awkward. Sure, me and Maddie shared the same English class, but we didn't really know each other. I didn't know what to say, and with the all the events that led up to this- I didn't want Maddie to think I found her ‘just in time' because I had been following her, which wasn't the case. I eventually settled on the most generic question I could think of.

“...how’d this happen?” Okay, so it may have been a very bad thing to ask given the delicate situation, but my brain pulled up blanks everywhere else. Maddie shook herself out of her stupor and shrugged, saying that it was sudden and she didn't know. It didn't sound like the truth, but I didn't push her.

I nodded and walked forward with a grimace last the still unconscious man to pick up my backpack, hoping nothing in it was broken. “Do you need me to walk you home?” I asked after a moment, but it was more of a formality than anything. Maddie, thankfully, did not take me up on my offer and shook her head. “No- no, I think I can get home safe from here.”

I nodded again, it was for the best really, we were both still a bit shaken up and I preferred being alone when something was disturbing me. “Good… I guess I'll see you tomorrow?” I said as I slung my backpack back onto my shoulders. Maddie nodded awkwardly and her brown eyes glanced away, “Yeah.”

We stood silently in that alleyway for a moment in front of each other before Maddie said her goodbyes, turned away, and left. It was a strange moment, but I didn't notice anything distinctly wrong with Maddie at the time. I sighed heavily, glancing back at the man who was still unconscious on the ground of the dirty alley. I was starting to get concerned, if he was knocked out that long he could have gained brain damage from the situation.

I, however, didn't feel particularly inclined to call an ambulance or the police, as I wanted to get home soon. I simply tried to steady myself, and I resumed the walk home.

It was dark, but my parents weren't back yet- as usual, they wouldn't be until morning. I let myself in the house, and stumbled down the hall to my room. I set my backpack on the floor next to my bed, gently so as to not risk damaging anything.

I wasn't hungry. I had eaten on the walk home from school- before seeing Maddie. But mostly, that man's unconscious body, the sound of that sickening crack- it had unnerved any sense of an appetite I may have had that night.

I crawled into bed after kicking off my socks and shoes, but otherwise didn't bother changing. That situation, all of it had exhausted me, more than I would have thought with how much worse it could have been. My green eyes stared up and spaced out at my blank white ceiling, and I got to thinking.

I mean, sure, I knew the crime rate in my city was pretty high, too high to be considered safe, but in my neighborhood it really did get bad at night. I blindly reached to the side, turning off the lamp on my night table, the blinds of my window had already been pulled shut. The room became nearly pitch black aside from the soft light of my phone, I always preferred it like that to go to sleep.

My eyelids felt heavy, I put on my wireless headphones for music and shut off my phone, placing it on the nightstand to charge. I thought of Maddie, what might have happened if I had passed her by. I sighed softly, closing my eyes, the last thought that crossed my mind before I slept was ‘maybe it's possible for me to help people more?’

Which, of course it was.

The next morning, I went through my usual routine, feeling like a passenger in my own body. I got up, dressed in clean clothes, brushed my teeth- all the works. I did so quietly, not wanting to wake my parents who would have gotten home only two hours or so before.

I don't remember thinking a lot that day, it was mostly a blur of memories from the night before. I ate breakfast on a TV tray in the living room, cleaned up a bit, and grabbed my backpack before leaving for school. I made a point to pass the alleyway from before on the way, it made my heart jump to my throat, but the man wasn't there any more- so at least he hadn't died there (as I had almost nearly convinced myself of).

I continued on my way to school, got there- yadda yadda yadda. I will be completely honest here, the only thing I remember noticing that day is that Maddie Lane was missing from her seat in my English class.

Luckily, that day, I didn't have to stay after school as I had the day before. So the walk home from school was not in the dark, but it still had me on edge, checking around every corner. It wasn't too cold, I was always resistant to temperature changes. It was about two or three months from the first snow of the year, but my jacket was zipped all the way up- I guess somehow it made me feel safer.

I did the same thing I did the night before, checking down the alley ways on my usual path home. I didn't stumble along anything bad, not for my area at least, but getting closer to my house seeing the trash and broken items on the dirty ground left a sour taste in my mouth.

The city wasn't great, hell, it was far from it. It was dirty and ridden with crime. But, for me, it was home- well, the area of my neighborhood was at least. One person could not fix all of this, it would take a miracle, a hero, even a grade A superhero to really help. However, I was no hero. But I was a rather stubborn kid who had seen some horrible things, and I wanted to help.

So, for the life of me, I was going to try.

#not bug #bug writing #writing #original writing #original character #ask blog #Bug writing chapter one #im pretty sure this is growing quite quickly for me haha #first person writing #im sorry i cant do third person right now :']#i got this down digital during my computer apps class haha #by the way if anyone is confused this is before Bug was mutated. if i didnt makw that clear enough.

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siriannatan · 6 months

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Left at the Altar - ScottfWhip

This is what happens when I watch too many videos about crazy wedding stories.

Shout out to that one lady who carried on with her wedding party even if her fiancee ran away.

Scott had no idea what to do. He stood on the stairs to the chapel. Just informed by one of his fiancee's... ex-fiancee's groomsmen he was stood up. On his wedding day. What was he supposed to do? Go in and tell everyone 'Sorry, Jimmy liked his best man better...' That'd just make it all feel even more sad.

"You okay?" Scott jumped to his feet turning to see another of Jimmy's groomsmen. Old friend, fWhip if he remembered the introduction. He was becoming painfully aware of how little he knew about Jimmy and his friends. Butt fWhip was cute and seemed genuinely upset with Jimmy and worried.

"I'm holding it together but I feel that if I have to come in and tell everyone I'll fall apart," Scott confessed, messing his hair. He held back so far but Jimmy was already twenty minutes 'late'. It was a shock no one left yet.

"You got somewhere to hide? I can say it or... You can just leave, Jim's the jerk here," fWhip offered with a shrug. "Not the first time he ditched someone, but... he never escaped a wedding before... Just go home if you can't stand staying, I certainly won't blame you."

"Jimmy took our ride... ugh... What a mess..." Scott grumbled, thinking about possible hiding spots.

"I... It's dumb... I could give you a ride. Quickly text my brother so he can explain it, he owes me a big favour... It's dumb," fWhip mumbled as the murmurs from inside got louder as everyone wondered what was going on.

"Offering to help me escape my own wedding? Sure, why not," Scott shrugged. He might as well let the day go completely crazy.

fWhip nodded and ran off for his ride. He was soon back with... a freaking motorbike. "I only have one helmet," he gave Scott an apologetic smile as he offered the one helmet to him. "We should hurry. I just texted Sausage that you approve guests knowing," he added and helped Scott with the helmet. He was never on a motorbike.

But now he was on one. Desperately clinging to fWhip. Only realising they're both in damn suits. He had a hard morning, okay. Very form-fitting suit. And fWhip looked unfairly nice in his. Full black nicely contrasting his pale complexion and copper-ginger hair.

fWhip didn't take him directly home. First they went for fried chicken sandwiches. "I know how weddings work, I was my sister's best man. You must be hungry," fWhip explained at the parking lot. "And people might go to your place to look for you," he added as Scott slowly realised that fWhip took him to a spot farthest from the wedding venue.

Scott just nodded and let fWhip handle the breakfast and everything. Himself just sitting down. For the first time looking at his phone. Nothing from Jimmy. Some worried texts from family. 'Too tired, couldn't handle it, will deal with everything tomorrow,' he responded to a few most important people before turning his phone off.

"Got our order," fWhip smiled awkwardly, taking a seat opposite of Scott. "I'm really sorry about Jim... he's..."

"Jimmy? I felt something was off since morning. He wasn't answering my texts," Scott sighed staring daggers at his phone as if it could dare to come back to life on its own. "You said it's not the first time he did something like this?"

"Prom. Totally ditched me. Apologized profusely a few days later but I would not let us be more than just friends... I really didn't think he'd do it on his wedding day," fWhip confessed, staring at the order number screen. "I only met Tango at his bachelor party, it didn't seem like they were that close..."

Scott sighed. He was about to say something but their order was called. As they ate Scott swapped the subject to try to get to know fWhip. He was, kind of, his knight in shining armour. Or on a shining Harley, at least.

And what a knight he turned out to be. It only took Scott three days to settle all remnants of the wedding with fWhip's help. As it turns out he's a lawyer. And this wasn't the first wedding he had to help 'clean up'.

Three years later, Scott got proposed to again. By a handsome lawyer with a Harley motorbike, a cute smile, and tattoos.

#my stuff #my stories #fanfiction #empires smp #empiresshipping #empires fwhip #empires scott #scfwhip

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skulls-soul · 8 months

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~He really doesn’t need to~

A Booigi fanfic

Words: 866

Note: just some docile Luigi X king boo, because of a little head cannon also there’s art

He really doesn’t need to join Luigi in his morning ritual, he truly doesn’t.

He’s a ghost, and a master of illusions.

If he wanted to he could just snap his fingers and either have his human form, completely ready for the day, or transform into his more ghostly form instead.

Hell! he doesn’t even need to snap his fingers! that part is just for dramatic affect.

…But still

The act of waking up next to the love of his not-so-alive life is just to precious to give up. even as his lover scowls at him for waking him up early on there supposed to be day off.

But they have things to do today so the morning ritual must commence, so IF he has to DRAG him out of bed then so be it!

and if that extends to him, dragging Luigi all the way to the bathroom, then even better.

The bathroom… it was never a place that king boo ever truly needed, after all, he’s a boo. Brushing his teeth is useless, it’s not like they can get any whiter than they already are Just like how his skin won’t tan from the sun. But he does it anyway.

Why?

He doesn’t really know. it’s a thing that Luigi does and has asked him to join him in because “ oh, I don’t care how pearly white your teeth are. I’m not kissing that morning breath.”

So he brushes his teeth and even go as far as to dramatically smile (which is more like a grin) at Luigi to then blow a puff of minty air towards his direction. “ clean enough for you?” he asks, even though he already knows the answer.

It’s the same unimpressed look that he has been given many many times before. but just like all those times before Luigi’s expression shifts to a small smile as he gives a small aplaude to his beloved king.

That alone is enough to motivate him to do this every morning no matter how tedious and (to his opinion) useless the task is.

After Luigi brushes his teeth, they head off to do the next thing in their morning ritual.

Which in all hindsight Luigi could do by himself but king boo can’t help it, he doesn’t know why but it just brings him so much satisfaction to help him get dressed.

So what if he’s only allowed to help Luigi get out of his shirt most mornings mainly due because once Luigi’s shirt is off, he can’t help himself but to shower the other man in kisses “it’s not my fault that you have such kissable skin!!” He would say, as a half ass excuse.

No matter, luigi like always will as king boo if instead of helping him get dressed if he could go get the clothes instead. So that way it’s quicker to get ready for the day.

That’s another thing

the king made it a habit to instead of materializing the clothing he will wear on him, he materializes it nice and folded on top of the drawer next to Luigis prepped clothes.

Just another thing that does nothing but waste time.

it’s funny, because before he gets dressed like luigi he sits on the floor in front of the couch. like every other morning before, and allows luigi to brush his hair and put it in a low ponytail

He knows that there is no need for this just like everything else but can you really blame him? The feeling of one’s lover brushing their fingers through your hair as they make sure to get every knot is just wonderful.

To bad it’s a quick process and there up and on to the next thing

In which his beloved luigi helps him in

As luigi helps with the buttons on his dress shirt king boo goes on about their plans for the day to make sure their on the same page “dear we’ll need to head over to the next kingdom for the flowers you want”

“okie-dokie Amore stay still I can’t do the buttons with u moving so much” his love scolds

”oh nooo what ever will we do?”

As king boo smirk’s luigi shakes his head in exasperation.

With king boo’s button’s all done there is now only one thing to do.

Shoes

He hates them and wish that they didn’t cause such frustration but they do. So much so that king boo will faze his shoes on while he convinces luigi to allow him to let him put his shoes on for him

“darling please I’m sure that I’ve got it this time”

“ boo please you don’t need to do this”

“You did my hair and shirt it’s only fair that I do this for you”

King boo says as he sat on the floor to TRY and tie Luigi’s shoe lace’s

He knows that he doesn’t need to do this, especially since it isn’t even his own shoe.

He doesn’t need to do any of this

He could just be ready in an instant…

But…

Luigi would still need to get dressed..

So he might as well do the whole process with him.

#luigi #luigi nintendo #King boo #king boo nintendo #luigi x king boo #king boo x luigi #luigi and king boo #king boo and luigi #booigi #king booigi #Boouigi #luigis mansion #luigi fanfic #king boo fanfic #fanfic #luigi fanart #king boo/luigi #king boo fanart #fanart

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findafight · 1 year

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Miraculous au

"before I start it's important you know this wasn't my fault."

Well. His Kitty sure has a way of setting him at ease. "You know that's probably the quickest way to get me thinking it's definitely your fault?"

Grimalkin sighs and plops, not ungracefully, beside him. "It really isn't. There are few, if any, things I could have done differently to prevent this, Red."

Red Scarab raises his eyebrow. "Oh? And what is "this", kitty cat? Leaving me in suspense isn't gonna help you if it actually is your fault"

He rubs his face in his hands, pinches his nose too. It's a habit Red Scarab has watched him do a dozen or two times by now. He's frustrated and probably embarrassed. Damn. "My best friend knows who I am."

"what? How!? You know our id-"

"she figured me out!" Grimalkin doesn't even make a pun of it, his nose scrunched and cheeks red. "She just. I rescued her, and instead of calling me 'grimalkin' or 'grim' or even 'malkin', she says "bye, my actual real first name"! I almost brained myself tripping when I heard her."

Eddie tries to steady his breaths. Okay. Alright. He wanted to be the first to find out Grim's identity, wanted to maybe be the only one who knew, but fine. He could share. They could work with this.

"how'd she know? She see you transform or something?"

Grim chuckles. Which, rude. This is pretty fuckin serious, little kitty cat. "She said when she saw Grim on tv he seemed familiar, then he kept being familiar. How he moved, talked, smiled. Something niggling at the back of her mind when she saw the heroes of Indy. Then, when I rescued her, it clicked. Suddenly whatever magic the miraculous puts around us to conceal our identities faded, and all she saw was me, her best friend, in silly cat ears and a mask. Saving the city."

"I find the ears charming." Red Scarab finds them absurdly cute, actually. But flirting with his kitty is for later.

"thanks. And that's it. She just. Knew. Saw right through me"

"you trust her?"

Grimalkin nods. "More than anything. I doubt anyone other than her could figure me out, anyways."

"yeah?" A bitter swoop of jealousy tangles itself in Red's stomach. Grim's voice is filled with unabashed fondness when he speaks about this nameless girl. He trusts her more than anything. More than red?

"well," he starts, as though reading Red's mind "maybe the same as you. In regards to my own health and life. I dunno. It's different with you. You're my partner." And ain't that just the sweetest thing? Grimalkin might be in love with some other mystery boy, might be so close with his best friend she saw through ancient magic to his core, but whatever is between them is special. Is different.

Flying above Hawkins, their borough of Indianapolis, bonds them differently than the others. Sure, Grim has friends and a potential boyfriend (as much as that pains him to think of) in his civilian life, and even a best friend who knows about his secret, but they'll never be his partner. Never have the same connection to him as Red does, saving the city from a superviallian. Red Scarab will hold onto that and keep it close to his heart for a while.

Grim nudges their shoulders together. "I really am sorry, though. You deserve to know who I am too. R--my best friend would probably get along with you like a house on fire, I'm a little worried about you meeting" and there he goes, saying such nice things. Acting like them knowing each other's identities and being ingrained in each other's civilian lives is an inevitability. Eddie hopes it is. The people his kitty loves seem, from the sparse details he's shared, quite bizarre and friendly and lovely. They must be, if Grimalkin loves them so.

"yeah? Think I'd recognize you out of the mask?" He says, instead of I hope so, I'd love to, I want to see all of the people you love and love them too.

He laughs. "Probably not. Hopefully not. Don't think I could handle knowing more than one person can see through me so well."

"would you recognize me?"

"no." He says it immediately, and it hurts, just a little. Like being dismissed. (Grimalkin doesn't mean to hurt him, he knows. Thinks the flirting is just for fun, a game, and not Eddie desperately trying to win the heart of a man whose goodness and snark and exasperation and humour stop him short and steal his breath away.) "I don't think so. The Miraculi magic is supposed to protect our identities, and once someone knows, they can see the overlap. Only someone who really, truely knows you and is looking would be able to break it. It happened to me because we have legitimately thought about the pros of combining into a blob person. I don't think many people are actually like that. They certainly don't seem to get me and --and my best friend." He shrugs again. "I dunno. That's what it seems like, anyway."

Grim grins at him. "Wouldn't be very magic if I just saw you walk into work one day and blurt out 'Red Scarab? Is that you!? I'm the guy in a catsuit you beat up supervillains with!' Would it?" If that happened Eddie would probably name it the single greatest thing to ever happen to him, actually. Second only to finding Tikki in his backpack after Hellfire a few short months ago. But his kitty is a romantic, and if he wants a dramatic, heartfelt reveal, then Eddie won't push it. They've got time.

#steddie #steve Harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie miraculous au #stranger things au #finda writes stuff #stobin #basically a direct sequel to robin finding out hehe #the love square...my beloved #its sorta reverse lovesquare but thisnis how it originally starts for them #also hawkins is now a Burrough or neighbourhood of Indianapolis to make it make sense #like there are only so many people in small town that could be the evil guy. a city is required.#finally decided steves hero name is Grimalkin. which basically just means cat but its kinda cute for him i think :)#tbh night crawler would be good and i was so mad because like. he couldnt. he couldnt name himself after an x man. no.#eddies was so much easier.

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princesscolumbia · 2 months

Text

Double Isekai - Chapter 9

So here we are at the end of my backlog. It was nice to be able to post once a day and not have to stress over jumping straight back into it, but I knew that wasn't gonna finish LLW ch. 14 anywhere near the time my backlog was gone. It did, however, firm up my desire to actually get a backlog going and eliminate that stress-point from my life.

Summary:

Ranma gets the chance to talk to someone who isn't directly impacted by the isekai and knew her both before and after. She gets some advice that she probably should have received in her previous life.

Notes:

And here we have the first canonical events that are directly impacted by the new timeline.

Preview below the cut:

The visit to Dr. Tofu's clinic went about as well as they could have expected, given the man's general open-mindedness about things involving magic and spiritual. It helped that the man could read qi auras; he'd described what he saw with Ranma like blending flavors of ice cream, which both isekai'd individuals smiled at.

"I must say, as much trauma as I'm seeing in your auras, you're remarkably well adjusted even after...well, all this." The doctor gestured up and down at the pair of them, sitting side by side on his exam table.

"Thank you, Doctor," "Thanks, Doc," they said at the same time. Ranma rolled her eyes and Nodoka giggled.

"Fascinating," he murmured under his breath, "If it's alright with you two, I'd like to set up ongoing monitoring appointments. Even in your other world the concept of the 'isekai' was fictional, so there wouldn't be any medical knowledge for managing cases like yours. While it's unlikely that I'll ever get a chance to publish anything on the issue, it would be good to at least make sure everything is working out okay for you two long-term."

Nodoka smiled warmly at the man, If I swung that way...ah well, he'll make someone a good husband soon enough, I'm sure. "That sounds lovely, and I'd be interested in reading your findings and discussing your conclusions."

"If you're sure you can keep up..." he returned her smile.

Ranma snorted, "Doc, c'mon. We taught ourselves data analytics and auto repair. Might need a reference or five, but we aint slouches."

Like many aspects of the conversation so far, Tofu showed all the signs of being pleasantly surprised by the new fold in the origami puzzle that was his most complex patient. "Fascinating...was the intelligence always there but expressed in purely martial ways or was your previous incarnation for this universe a savant and this more broad-spectrum intelligence a new addition from the merging?"

Ranma shrugged, "Think it was prolly the first one. Pops did his level best t'beat anything that wasn't The Art outa me. Kinda made me stupid in all sorts of ways. Aint sayin' I know for sure, but I did teach myself the 'roasting chestnuts' thing using adaptive methods thanks to an artificially imposed temporary disability, an' that was a LONG time before the isekai."

The conversation lasted a bit longer, Doctor Tofu completing the same physical that he did for the Tendo girls and providing a referral for a gynecologist he'd already 'felt out' about the Jusenkyo issue with a promise to have another ready if they should prove less receptive than he'd expected.

"I'll see what I can do about a counselor or therapist as well," he said after Nodoka brought up the concern, "That will be...harder, most likely. Not only is that a bit outside my specialty, without the ability to see qi and already having a history with either of you like I did, any therapist is going to be inherently skeptical."

Nodoka nodded, "As can be expected, this is a highly unusual case, to say the least." She paused visibly, as though bracing herself for a challenge, "I...don't want you to do anything that might violate your ethical obligations or result in a loss of your license, but about Ranma's male form..."

Tofu leaned back, a clearly intelligent mind piecing together the request before she could even make it but allowing his patient to ask the question anyway. Such manners...maybe some Jusenkyo water? No, don't be silly. You're a horny old woman but that's no reason to go looking for people to make dysphoric. Out loud, she said, "Might it be possible to see about transitioning her other body?" she gestured to her daughter, who was clearly doing her best to not get her hopes up too much.

Tofu appeared to ponder the question, "I'll admit I don't believe anyone has asked for such a thing in the annals of Jusenkyo." He stood and walked over to the counter he'd placed Ranma's file on earlier and flipped it open, jotting a few notes down, "I've started a correspondence with Cologne's tribe as they're the nearest group of people to the springs and so have the most experience with them." He finished his note and closed the file, facing them directly, "Most 'curse victims' opt to simply have the curse locked."

Nodoka grimaced and Ranma squirmed. The younger isekai'd woman piped in, "I aint sure that's a good idea, doc. It's...well, it's like noise-cancelling headphones if I'm thinkin' correctly."

"'Noise-cancelling...'?" parroted the doctor.

Nodoka chuckled, "I believe they're working on industrial applications for the technology now and it won't be on the consumer market for a decade or two yet, but they use the principal of a cancelled waveform to block sound." She traced a sine wave in the air in front of her, "Sound is just pressure waves in the air, so one simply sets up a microphone to capture the sound, a computer processes the opposite waveform, then broadcasts that back in the direction of the audio source," she traced an opposite sine wave going the other direction, "And the two waveforms cancel each other out."

"Problem is, doc, it's technically just more sound, only ya can't hear it," added Ranma. "And dependin' on how loud the original sound is, yer slamming a LOT of dee-bees into your ears."

Tofu gave her a confused smile, "'dee-bees'?"

Ranma smirked, "Decibels, or dBs." Tofu nodded with a quiet 'ah!' as Ranma continued, holding up a hand and punching it lightly, "It's like yer hammerin' yer eardrums twice as hard but ya can't hear it." She dropped her hands into her lap, "Aint interested in getting' magical tinnitus or whatever it'd be called."

He chuckled at her metaphor, "That's not a bad comparison, though I'll want to confer with some experts to see if that's actually a concern. If it is, then we'll definitely want to look into alternatives. As for hormone replacement therapy," he sounded hesitant, and his next words made it clear why, "We'll need to try some things, and I'll need to confer with some colleagues with discrete inquiries. I'm not an endocrinologist and I'm not equipped to do the hormonal testing here, so we'll need to bring in some others to see what can be done." He adjusted his glasses thoughtfully, "This could be an interesting, if extremely niche article in a journal somewhere." He chuckled as he put a hand on his hip and scratched the back of his head, "I'll probably need to find a way to introduce the Amazon's magic and traditional medicine doctors to some open minded colleagues," he focused on Ranma, "Would you be willing to demonstrate your curse to a select few people? If your descriptions of dysphoria are anything to go by, it might be uncomfortable and I wouldn't want you to subject yourself to that..."

Ranma smirked, "I aint sayin' no, but I can talk to Shampoo t'see if she'd demonstrate first. I'm betting a girl turning into a cat'd be enough of a metaphorical gut-punch to convince just about anyone of how real magic is."

Tofu could only chuckle at this proposal, "Now, if you'll excuse us, Nodoka. We're at the part of the appointment where I talk to Ranma about things teenagers don't want their parents to hear about."

(Read the whole thing on AO3)

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the-rarest-sexiest-coinkydink · 1 year

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heyo, could i request a mikey x transmasc! reader (he/him) where reader is childhood friends with the ways but moved away when they were little. and then they move back to nj later mostly post-transition and mikey falls like,,, super hard?? sorry if it’s too detailed but i just really like the idea!! no pressure tho :))

New Jersey, Revisited (Mikey Way x transmasc!reader)

Summary: as above, basically :)

Word count: 5133 (yes I really enjoyed this one how can you tell)

Warnings: little bit of talk of dysphoria, one use of a deadname but not in a nasty way! It’s entirely accidental; discussion of surgery + recovery, but not in tons of graphic detail

AN: so I’ve kind of got it in my head that Mikey and (y/n) are about 25/26 (so we’re looking at the year of the ProRev tour era wise) but if you want to interpret this any other way then feel free!

(also why is naming fics so fucking hard)

The idea of coming back to live in New Jersey again was always one that made (y/n)’s heart do a little dance in his chest. Sure, the area he’d grown up was a bit of a shithole - but it was his shithole. He’d always had fond memories of the house he’d grown up in, the school he’d gone to, the friends he’d made. His older cousins that had stayed in the area had been talking about a ten year high school reunion next year, and he quite liked the idea of that. He wasn’t ten years out of high school just yet, but it also wasn’t that far away either. Maybe he’d get away with tagging along with someone else and surprising all those people he hadn’t seen since he was a teenager. Not that they would have any memory of him. For one, he’d moved away when he was thirteen, so they’d probably have forgotten about him by now. And point number two - he wasn’t the same man he was all those years ago.

Well, neither would his old classmates be. Puberty, and all that. But somehow he doubted that anyone else in his year group would have transformed in quite the same way he had.

Sweating after the exertion of moving all his boxes of crap into the right rooms in his new flat, he dug through the nearest suitcase for a clean shirt (cursing his own terrible packing skills as he did so) and tugged the other one over his head, starting a little laundry pile in the corner of the bathroom and stopping for a second to admire himself in the mirror. He really did look good. The pinkish top surgery scars decorating his chest were just over eighteen months old, and those last eighteen months had been some of the best of his life so far. Of course there had been some rough patches; post-surgery recovery sucked ass, and life couldn’t be perfect all the time. But overall, he was so much happier now than he ever had been before.

Life had just got exponentially better with every milestone in his transition, thinking about it. The first time his parents used the name he’d chosen, coming to accept him after initial confusion when he’d come out. His very first short haircut, which hadn’t exactly been stylish but he’d loved it nonetheless. His first binder, first testosterone shot, first straggly facial hair. And then top surgery had blown everything else out of the water. And he had a feeling that the next surgery on the list would have the same effect.

Thinking back on his coming out experience as he reapplied his deodorant made him laugh. His parents hadn’t really understood what he was trying to tell them - they had been wonderfully supportive, just... a little bit unsure. Around nine months after they’d moved to Chicago, he’d written them a letter in the dead of night and left it on the table so they’d wake up to it and read it without him having to be there. Which wouldn’t have been a terrible idea if his parents hadn’t entirely misread the thing. So he’d woken up to his mom sat on the end of his bed, letter in hand, a sympathetic look on her face.

“Honey, you must really miss Mikey and all your other friends back in New Jersey. I get that. But give it some time and you’ll make some nice new friends here, I promise. You’ve just got to get to know people.”

“I- huh?”

She waved the letter slightly. “You said you feel like you get on better with the boys than girls. And that’s okay! Some girls are just more comfortable around boys for a little while. Girls can be pretty bitchy.”

“No, I - I said I wanted to be a boy. Like, I’m not a girl.”

“Oh. I... Oh.” She looked back down at the paper, squinting to reread the words. “Honey your handwriting is terrible! I never would have worked that out from this.”

“Hey it’s not that bad! But... is it okay? You know, that I’m not...”

She leant over and patted his knee. “Honey, you’re you. That’s more than enough for me and your dad. Whatever you need us to change, let us know. I can’t promise we’ll remember all the time, but we’ll try our very best.”

It certainly made for a funny story to tell, anyway. And his parents had always been phenomenally supportive of him - even when he said he was moving back to New Jersey. They’d originally thought that he meant just for the duration of the recovery period after his upcoming surgery, but when they realised that he meant to move back for good they only had one thing to say: it makes sense. Over time he’d fallen in love with Chicago, but New Jersey was still home and it had always been obvious that he felt that way. And when he’d found a surgeon based out of a hospital twenty minutes away from where he’d grown up? Well, it was like fate. Clearly, the universe wanted him back in New Jersey.

As it often did when he was reminiscing about his journey, (y/n)’s mind wandered to Mikey. They’d been best friends since the day they started school, bonding over the fact that their birthdays were only a few weeks apart, and had been inseparable until the day his family moved away. Mikey had actually cried when the car pulled away, clutching the piece of paper with his closest friend’s new address on it almost as tightly as he’d hugged him. They’d been each other’s first ever sleepovers, spent years trailing around after Gerard and getting on his nerves - and once, memorably, each received a tremendous bollocking from both sets of parents after (y/n) had hidden in Mikey’s wardrobe so he didn’t have to go home when his parents came by to collect him and made everyone panic that he’d gone missing on the way back from school. No two kids could possibly have been closer.

The two of them had stayed in contact for almost a year, but as life had got in the way (and he hadn’t quite found the courage to come out, scared of how his best friend might react) the letters had slowly grown further and further apart before stopping altogether. Somewhere within his luggage, there was a shoebox full of those letters. He’d kept every single one. Every little update about what their favourite teachers were up to, every fuzzy polaroid of the rest of the gang doing whatever stupid shit they’d decided to do that day, every drawing and friendship bracelet and bad joke from a chocolate bar wrapper. He’d clung onto those little fragments of his childhood best friend like a lifeline. Part of him imagined that Mikey had done the same, thinking about him from time to time, wondering what he was up to now.

Of course, he knew exactly what Mikey was up to these days. His small town best friend in the whole wide world had gone on to become a big time rock star. How cool was that? They had always had a very similar taste in music, and so a lot of the inspirations behind My Chemical Romance were instantly obvious to him the second he put his headphones in. It felt a bit strange, calling himself a fan of the band when he’d grown up with half of the members, but he supposed that was good enough for now. The chances of the two of them ever meeting up again were incredibly low. He didn’t know if Mikey still lived in the same place, if he even still lived in New Jersey! And it wasn’t like he was going to just bump into him on the street. Coincidences like that belonged in rom-coms.

Looking around at the haphazard stack of cardboard boxes that contained his entire life, (y/n) decided that there was no way in hell he could be bothered to sort them out now. That was just far too much effort after lugging them all up the stairs. He had plenty of time to get it all sorted at a nice slow pace, so there was really no point starting right this minute. He needed a coffee.

~~~~~~~~~~

It really was nice to be home, Mikey thought as he walked through the door of his favourite coffee shop and got in the queue. Even if home meant being sworn at by people if he walked a bit too close and fearing for his life every time he crossed the road. There was a sweet familiarity that came with the grimy streets, and he honestly wouldn’t trade it for the world. It did feel strange being back, finally standing still after what had felt like two months of constant moving. He loved touring, but it really did suck the life out of him sometimes. Two months of crap motels, raging hangovers and constant performance was the perfect combination for exhaustion, and he was really looking forward to the time off. It was the little things that made him smile, too. Like being back in his favourite place, that tiny cafe that in his opinion did the best coffee in the world. He’d spent countless hours in there, listening to the rain against the windows while he read a book or watched Gerard sketch. It was it’s own peaceful little bubble.

He ordered his usual when he got to the counter, fighting back the blush that threatened to paint his cheeks as the cute barista smiled up at him. Thankfully his favourite table was clear, and he kept an eye on it while he was waiting. The little table in the corner with the slightly wonky leg was where Gerard had taken him and his best friend for their first ever coffee when they were ten. They’d both sworn not to tell their parents, but that had gone straight out of the window when they’d taken her home - she’d practically been buzzing. That memory always made him smile, the way she’d bounced on her toes and the look on his big brother’s face that very clearly said, ‘I’m so fucked’.

He thought about his childhood best friend a lot, these days. So much had happened in his life since she’d moved away, stuff that the two of them had daydreamed about as kids, staring up at shapes in the clouds and wondering what they’d be when they grew up. He wondered if she even remembered him. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to forget her.

Lost a little in thought as he took his drink and started forwards to go to his table, he bumped into someone. It wasn’t exactly a high impact collision - the coffee in his mug barely rippled - but the effect it had on his heart was seismic. Standing at his shoulder, a mixture of pure shock and embarrassment on his face, was the prettiest man Mikey had ever seen. If you had asked a younger, much more Catholic Mikey, what he thought angels looked like, he probably would have described the exact face that was now staring up at him. His tongue tripped over the words as he tried to apologise, barely aware that the man next to him was examining every detail of his face in sheer wonder.

“God, I am so sorry! Are you okay? I- I didn’t see you, I was- I... thinking a little too hard, sorry. I should’ve looked where I was going.”

Feeling like all the air had left his lungs, (y/n) managed a nod. “Yeah, I- I’m fine. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good. Didn’t even spill my drink, so...” He trailed off, something nagging at the back of his mind. As he tried to put his finger on what was catching his attention it darted away, like a fish clever enough to avoid a lured hook. He just couldn’t work out what it was; he wanted to put it down to the sheer beauty of the man before him, but a part of his brain was screaming that there was something more than that. “I... I’m sorry, do I know you? You look kinda familiar, but... I’m not great with faces.”

A smile caught at the edges of his mouth; he was going to have a little fun with this. Why wouldn’t he? Hundreds of times over the years he’d dreamt about what it would be like to swan into a room of his old classmates, watching them fawn over the teen heartthrob he’d become without realising who he’d been before, then basking in their reactions when he told them. Now, he was getting to play that out in real life for the very first time.

“Uh, yeah, I’m pretty sure we have met. I’m not great with names though, so... sorry.”

“Oh it’s okay. I’m Mikey.” He didn’t notice the little glimmer of emotion in the shorter man’s eyes. “I... wait. Hold up just a second, I do know you! You, uh, you’re one of (deadname)’s cousins, right? I think we met at someone’s birthday party.”

Somehow, his old name coming out of Mikey’s mouth didn’t make him as uncomfortable as he thought it might. He didn’t hate his dead name, not really; while some of the kids at school had been assholes about it for a while before getting bored with harassing him and moving on to some other poor sucker, his parents had never once used it against him maliciously. So while there was some discomfort there, it wasn’t as bad as the feelings that some of his trans friends had surrounding their deadnames. Perhaps it was the context, though: the fact he’d assumed that he was one of his own cousins was a shot of gender euphoria stronger than any liquor.

“Well, you’re almost there, so, uh, you get points for trying. But... I haven’t used that name in a good few years. I’ve been (y/n) since I was 14.”

Mikey’s jaw dropped, and he put his coffee down with enough force that it slopped a little over the side. His hands moved to (y/n)’s cheeks, squishing them gently the way he’d always done when they’d made fun of each other as kids. He moved to do the same back, the tears finally spilling over. “Hiya Mikes.”

In the space of a second, Mikey was hugging him tightly enough to crush some ribs, sniffling into his shoulder just as he had done on that day so many years ago. He smelled almost exactly the same, that soft note of cotton scented deodorant mixed with laundry powder and minty shower gel, dashed with something that was so unique to his best friend that he’d know it a hundred miles away. (y/n)’s hands splayed across his back in the same way they always had, his forehead pressed against Mikey’s neck. He’d always felt safe like that, listening to the thrum of his heart beneath his skin, feeling his breath on the top of his head. When he was with Mikey, the rest of the world just slid away. He was glad that that had stayed the same after so long, too.

The barista set (y/n)’s coffee down at the end of the counter, smiling softly at the obvious emotional moment going on before shifting the rest of the queue ever so slightly so that they wouldn’t block people’s way.

He pulled back, eyes glittering with disbelief as he tested the new name on his tongue. “(y/n)... (y/n). God, that suits you so well. You... you look amazing.”

“Yeah? You’ve grown up pretty well yourself.” Blushing deeply at his compliment, he allowed himself to stare at Mikey properly. He really had matured, growing into those pretty cheekbones magnificently. All those times he’d imagined what his best friend might look like now, and he’d never quite pictured him like this. But looking at him now, it all made sense. And the raging crush that he’d had when he was twelve years old came back, crashing down on him like a ton of bricks.

Little did he know, the exact same thoughts were going through Mikey’s head. He was astounded by how much he’d changed - and yet, how much he’d stayed the same. The shorter haircut fit his facial features so well, and his style was pretty much the same as it had always been; it just framed him so much better now. He was head over heels, and there was no hope of denying it. If Gerard walked in right now, he’d instantly jump to making the exact same jokes he always made about Mikey having a crush - without even realising that he was joking about the exact same person, over a decade later.

“Dude, please tell me you’ve got time to sit down.”

“For you? Always.”

Finally picking up their coffees the two of them headed over to the corner table, settling opposite each other and grinning wide enough to split their faces in two. They were both taller than they had been the last time they’d sat here; their knees were squished together under the table. The two of them started talking at the same time, giggling as their words overlapped before stopping for a second.

“You go.”

“No, you can start.”

“No, you go first.”

The bickering took them straight back to old times, and soon the conversation was flowing like water. It didn’t seem possible to cover over a decade of separation in as much detail as they both needed, but they certainly tried their best.

“So, yeah. The FBI came round.”

“You were fifteen?”

“Yeah.”

“Your mom must have wanted to kill you!”

“Oh she did... I still got to go the gigs though. That Pumpkins tour was insane.”

When they got round to the story of (y/n)’s transition, Mikey had tons of questions to ask. Like everyone else, he found his coming out story hilarious - and knowing his mom personally made it even funnier. When he talked about his voice cracking after getting on testosterone, the only thing Mikey could say was, “Now you know how I felt! I wish I’d been there to give you the same shit you gave me.”

He smiled softly, hands wrapped around his mug. “Yeah, I wish you’d been there too. I’ve missed you a lot, you know.”

“I’ve missed you too. I don’t know if I can describe just how much, but...” Trailing off, Mikey pushed back the sleeve of his hoodie, revealing the tatty band of coloured string around his left wrist. “I’ve worn this since you sent it to me. It hasn’t come off once.”

Mouth hanging open, (y/n) pulled his hand closer to take a better look. Both men tried their hardest not to show just how wonderful it felt to hold the other’s hand, but when (y/n) pushed his own sleeve back to show the matching friendship bracelet, just as ragged and grubby as Mikey’s, the two of them cried almost enough to refill their empty coffee cups.

It took (y/n) a few tries to choke the words out through the tears. “I thought... I thought maybe you would’ve forgotten about me.”

“Never. No way.” Mikey squeezed his hand, swallowing around the lump in his throat. “You’re the one person I could never forget. Not in a million years.”

“I only ever took this off once, you know.”

“A whole once?” He managed a laugh, rolling his eyes. “Wow, I see how it is.”

“Hey, it wasn’t exactly my idea!” (y/n) scoffed, whacking him softly. “I wasn’t allowed to have it on when I went in for top surgery, something about an infection risk. My mom was there when I woke up after, and apparently the first thing I said was, and I quote-” He paused, taking a deep breath for effect. “If anyone touches my damn bracelet, I’ll eat their balls.”

Mikey cackled so hard he almost fell out of his chair, clutching at his ribs as he wheezed. “You’d eat their balls?”

“Shut up, I was doped up on painkillers! I don’t even remember it happening.” When Mikey continued laughing, he grabbed a packet of sugar from the little tub on the table and tossed it at his face. “I bet you say stupid things when you’re drunk too.”

“Well...”

The two of them sat there trading stories about being in My Chemical Romance and working as a photographer at concerts until the cafe closed, apologising profusely to the very amused barista as they watched her switch all the machines off, then the lights.

Mikey offered to walk (y/n) home, both of them delighted to find out that they only lived a five minute walk away from each other. They traded phone numbers at the door to (y/n)’s apartment building and were texting before he’d even got in the elevator, elated to finally be back in each others lives. Neither man had wanted to say goodbye, but the promise of seeing each other again tomorrow kept them going. After so long, the thought of missing out on anything else was too much to bear.

~~~~~~~~~~

And so three weeks later, as he set his bag down in the little stand next to the hospital bed, (y/n) shot a quick text to Mikey.

Hey! Won’t be around today - I’m having the ol’ baby-making kit removed up at the hospital this morning. I’m pretty sure I told you about that but if I didn’t... well, I just did! Anyway, I’ll be pretty sleepy post-op, and the doctors have told me I’ll have to take it easy for a while, so I’ll catch up with you in a few days, yeah? Say hi to your mom for me!

The two of them had spent at least fifteen of the last twenty-one days in each other’s company in one way or another, whether it was at someone’s flat or out for coffee or wandering around the comic book store for hours on end. It was a shame that he probably wouldn’t see him for another week or so, given that he had mentioned a couple of interviews that had been scheduled for the band. But the doctors had told him in no uncertain terms that he’d have to take it easy for at least four or five days, to give the incision a chance to start healing before putting it through too much stress. So he’d have to settle for texting, just for a little while.

Careful to put his bracelet in the safest place possible, (y/n) slipped quickly into the hospital gown and stuck his head out from around the curtain.

“Okay! I’m good to go.”

When he woke three hours later, groggy and aware of a slight pulling sensation across his stomach, he certainly hadn’t expected to also feel a hand tucked into one of his. Careful not to sit up just yet, he glanced down - smiling at the sight of his bracelet, back where it belonged. And a very familiar person sitting in the chair next to his bed.

Spotting the little movement, Mikey squeezed his hand, grinning. “Couldn’t have you threatening to eat anyone’s balls this time.”

“Much appreciated.”

“How are you feeling? And you didn’t tell me before, by the way, so I freaked the fuck out reading that earlier.”

He laughed slightly, wincing a little as the pulling sensation got stronger. “Sorry. But hey, no more uterus. That’s pretty fucking cool.”

“Yeah, it sure is.” He stroked across the back of his hand, careful not to knock the cannula where it was taped in place. “Do you want me to get a nurse? Tell someone you’re awake?”

“Nah, they’ll find out eventually.” His eyes slid closed again, heavy with the weight of anaesthesia. “You being here is enough right now.”

Mikey tried to tell himself that it was just the meds talking, but he couldn’t help but feel a little giddy at those words. He was ridiculously, stupendously, immeasurably in love with his best friend, and right now he wanted the whole world to know it. Ideally he’d tell him first, of course, but that required being brave. And he really didn’t know if now was the right time.

Inhibitions steamrollered by the remaining drugs in his system, (y/n) had no such problem, and just kept rambling on. “Y’know, I’m so glad I found you again.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Thought I was gonna have to make do with committing all your bass lines to memory. This is so much better.”

“You know, I’d always wondered whether you’d find out about the band or not. Every time I get on stage, I imagine you being in the crowd, having the best time. Maybe I can bring you to a show someday.”

“Oh, I’d love that.” He nodded thoughtfully, still holding Mikey’s hand. “But I would be happy anywhere as long as I was with you.”

“You would?”

“Mhm.” He yawned, stretching his neck gently. “Don’t you ever go anywhere without me ever again, Mikey Way. You’re my everything.”

“I... I am?” That pretty much sounded like a confession to him, and his heart ached against his ribs as he tried to scrape together the courage to say something back.

But as he took his first deep breath, (y/n) had already drifted back to sleep.

When he woke again an hour and a half later, he had zero recollection of the conversation they’d had. Mikey was very quick to realise this, given the way his face lit up at the sight of the little friendship bracelet.

“Aww, did you put that back? Thank you. And thank you for being here.”

“Hey, I’d do anything for you.” Knowing that really, it was now or never, he decided to take the plunge. “So, you were awake earlier. Do you remember anything from that?”

“I was awake?” (y/n) frowned, thinking for a second before shaking his head. “I don’t remember being awake.”

“I didn’t think you would. You, uh... you weren’t making much sense, but there was one thing I did pick out.”

“Mhm?” All of a sudden, anxiety clawed at his veins. What had he said? Had he confessed the way he felt? Was this Mikey’s way of telling him that he wasn’t comfortable being friends any more because of it?

“So I needed to tell you...” He paused for a second, taking (y/n)’s other hand in his free one and bringing it to his lips. “You’re my everything too. I... God, I am so in love with you it doesn’t even feel real. I’ve been in love with you since I was eleven years old, and you going away tore me apart. And now you’re home again, and you’re you, and it’s the most incredible thing. I thought those feelings had gone away, but... they’re so strong. You’ve still got that stupid sense of humour, and amazing taste in music, and you’ve gone from being that crazy tiny kid to the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. I love you so much.”

(y/n) was entirely speechless for a few moments, struggling to comprehend exactly what was going on. Was he dreaming this? Was this the anaesthesia playing tricks, lighting up the sleeping parts of his brain and sending his mind on a wild goose chase? But no. The feeling of Mikey’s breath, warm against his cold knuckles, was enough to prove that this had to be real. And he damn well knew what he was going to do about it.

He started to sit up very slowly, not wanting burst stitches to ruin the moment. Mikey tried to stop him, eyes watery as he waited anxiously for a response but still more concerned with his safety. “What- what are you doing?”

“Something I should’ve done a very long time ago.”

And, as gently as he could, (y/n) kissed him.

The sensation made the emotions they both felt upon coming back to New Jersey seem miniscule, insignificant. It couldn’t possibly matter where in the world they were, as long as they had each other. Careful to avoid the new wounds, Mikey settled one hand on (y/n)’s thigh and the other on the back of his neck, keeping him as close as he dared as they drank each other in. This was everything he’d dreamed of. For now, he had no intentions of telling the other man that he’d been the subject of every wet dream, the thought fuelling every hasty wank. No intentions of telling him that he’d pictured them meeting again, falling in love, spending the rest of their lives together. No intentions of telling him that instead of a prom date, he’d taken a Polaroid of the two of them and kept it in his pocket the whole night, never dancing with anybody else.

And of course, (y/n) definitely wasn’t going to tell him that his was the name he whispered in the dead of night, fingers finding all the right places and wondering what it would feel like if they belonged to him. Definitely wouldn’t reveal that he’d slept with the shirt that he’d given him as a goodbye present every day for three whole years after moving away, desperately needing him to be back by his side. Definitely wasn’t going to share that every time he’d seen a couple walking down the street, he’d pictured it as if it was the two of them instead.

Not yet, anyway. All those stories could wait for later - they had forever to spare. For now, the only thing that mattered was the way their lips felt against each other, like they’d been designed solely for the other to appreciate. Like they’d been made for each other right from the very start.

Well, (y/n) thought as they broke apart for air, foreheads pressed together and hands stroking sides. Eleven year old me is definitely punching the air right now.

“I love you too, idiot.”

“R-really?” The hope in Mikey’s eyes was brighter than the stage lights he was still so uneasy performing under, shining as (y/n) cupped his face. He moved to do the same, smiling as he rolled his eyes.

“The kiss wasn’t enough to prove it, huh?”

“I don’t know man. Maybe it’s best that you do it again.”

(y/n) grinned as he leant back in. “Well I guess I’ll have to, won’t I? Because I don’t plan on letting you out of my sight any time soon.”

“Oh, what a shame.”

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