#he's got one of the most unique origin stories of all the dozens of alternate spiders!!!!! just suspend ur disbelief and have Fun

[spider-man-2o99]

i don’t think we talk enough abt how when miguel first got his Spider Powers it was at least partly because his coworker genuinely tried to murder him on a whim just for being. like. kind of annoying at the workplace. utterly deranged and iconic behavior from aaron here

[the-haven-of-fiction]

Not A Christmas Movie

Genre/Rating: Fluff and Sweetness of the holiday variety, T

Summary:  Tom and Astrid find themselves in a unique situation on Christmas Eve. 

Author’s Notes:  My first sappy romantic Christmas one shot, y’all!  Move over, Hallmark!  I tried to cover some of the best cheesy themes, I hope you enjoy it.  Thank you to Pillow Talk and Lolo for proofing.  

The sound of the wind and snow raced through the trees and whipped against the walls of the cabin, the remote mountainous location devoid of any welcoming lights from neighbors.  The two travelers dropped their luggage upon crossing the threshold and rushed to push the heavy door shut behind them.   

“When we get through this, neither you nor my sisters are ever allowed to make fun of my emergency preparedness again!  We’d be in major trouble without it!” Astrid declared, brushing snow off her jacket and holding up the lantern from the referenced emergency preparedness with her other hand as Tom attempted to lock the door.

“I think I can safely and assuredly,” he paused to run his tongue over his perpetually chapped lips in concentration, “give you my word as an Englishman that I shall never,” a grunt of effort, “allow either myself or your sisters to utter a syllable of criticism on that score.”  

She couldn’t help but giggle at his struggle with the lock.  

“Remember when you had the brilliant idea to build a set for one of our backyard holiday productions?  Was that when you played Scrooge?  Your word as an Englishman may be good as gold, but your complete lack of skill with anything slightly mechanical is something I wouldn’t swear by.”

Even in the dim light of the lantern, the slight twitch of a smile was visible on his face, the vision of the pathetic attempt so vivid in his memory.  

“No one is going to believe this,” she sighed, shivering and looking around for a light switch.

“Truth is stranger than fiction,” Tom quipped. “The best intentions of a Christmas surprise, a series of unfortunate events, a comedy of errors…”

“I blame my soon to be ex-mechanic, the weatherman, Anya and Arlyss and their crazy idea about trying to organize our families into coming out here to the wilderness to have some kind of storybook Christmas,” she huffed, fumbling along the wall, but finding the switch and flipping it to On in relief.

They both groaned when nothing happened.  No electricity, no heat.

“They must have disconnected the electricity during renovations, fantastic.”  He followed close behind her as they made their way around the cabin.  Although the snowstorm was in full force and there weren’t any outside lights on the driveway, they could see evidence of construction as they had pulled up a few minutes earlier.  

“Well, at least there’s a fireplace and I think there is actually a pile of wood next to it,” Astrid pointed as she spoke.  “How about that.  Must have been stocked by the same person who left the door unlocked. Remind me never to hire this company, whoever they are.”

“I could go outside and check for the…uhm…the…” Tom stuttered and gestured, making what she assumed was meant to be a square shape of some kind.

“The breaker box?” she asked dryly.  

“Exactly, yes,” he answered in a tone of false bravado, clearing his throat. “I was merely waiting to see if you knew the name.”

“Santa doesn’t bring presents to little boys who lie, ya know.”  She set the lantern on the mantle next to a small glass dish of matches.  “Especially little boys who grew up in a centuries-old estate and have servants who take care of locking the doors and fixing the electrical problems.”

“They are not servants, they are staff, Miss Sassy, and I doubt Father Christmas knows we are here, no one does,” he replied.  “Add the one forgotten mobile and the other with no service to the list of things that won’t be believed.”

“Well, anyways, Professor,” she went on in an exaggerated manner, “I may have a First Aid kit in my emergency supplies, but I am not equipped to perform any surgery on wounds you would most certainly incur from trying to play Electrician.”

He knew she was correct and they both smiled, cheeks rosy with cold.

“I suppose it was fortuitous that I ended up teaching Classics rather than embarking upon a career in carpentry.”

Astrid got a fire going and they were able to scope out their surroundings more thoroughly. A last-minute change of plans had allowed the visiting Tom and originally scheduled-to-work Astrid to join their families in the mountains for Christmas, but a quick succession of unforeseen events had brought them here, stranded close to midnight in a semi-livable cabin during a snowstorm on Christmas Eve.

The owners must have been undergoing some kind of renovations.  The cabin obviously had been inhabited previously, but half the interior wasn’t complete, including the kitchen.

“The toilet flushes!” she shouted from the bathroom.  “And there’s running water in the sink!”

“Unfortunately there is no sofa or chairs of any sort and only one bedroom,” he reported when she came back into the main room, “No fireplace, but it does have a bed with linens.”

“Well, my kit has extra batteries so we should be okay with the lantern in there,” she assured him, completely missing his point about the issue of a single bed.

He noticed that her shivering wasn’t decreasing as much as it should, looking her up and down in concern.  She was wearing an ankle-length corduroy skirt in a shade that matched her eyes, with a long-sleeved but thin sweater.  

“I think we should go through our luggage and put on a couple of more layers.  That centuries-old estate was a bit drafty, so I am accustomed to an indoor chill,” he informed her with a tinge of that irritating blend of both humility and privilege.

She rolled her eyes, but went over to her suitcase and started sifting through her clothes.  

“You and the twins have always been bossy. It’s a wonder how I have managed to get through life as an adult without the three of you hovering over me like you did when I was a kid.”

He pulled on another shirt and grinned at her.

“I still remember the day you were born.  I was visiting Dad and Roberta that year for Christmas,” referring to the alternating schedule their families had of who went to which country for the holidays. “And your sisters and I were old enough to be excited rather than jealous of a new child coming.”

Astrid turned away from him, hoping he wouldn’t see her reaction.  Why did it please her so much to hear him speak of her birth with such affection?  It must be this ridiculous situation.  And the holiday.  And her birthday.  And this sparkling blue-eyed man whose place in her life she had never been quite able to define.  Not a blood relation, but as close as a family member, certainly more than a friend.  But more than a friend, in that sense?  College and adulthood had made the unanswered question less important, as the shared summers and holidays of their childhood had grown fewer and fewer.  She didn’t let herself ponder why he hadn’t married and had a dozen children to help him keep up that manor. Any woman would be elated at the prospect of sharing her life with him; she knew he had a string of casual relationships, just as she had, but their age difference had made her sure years ago that he would be a distant memory by this time.  

“Born on Christmas Day to parents named Joseph and Mary, merely the beginning of my life’s trajectory of ‘You won’t believe this!’ events, continuing to this bizarre night that has practically every plot point needed for a cheesy holiday movie except that we aren’t secretly pining for each other.”  She zipped up the windbreaker over the thicker sweater before reaching for her parka, not seeing the brief flicker in his eyes.

“Did you know that Arliss wanted to call you Snowflake and Anya’s choice was Mistletoe?” Tom picked up her scarf and hat that he had placed on the hearth so they would be toasty and walked back to her.

“I hear that story every year, along with all the suggestions from everyone to aunts and uncles to the postman.  Thank God my parents went with something on theme, but not silly.”  She pulled on her boots after a second pair of socks and looked up at him.

His expression changed and he drew in a short breath.

“Do you like your name?”

The inquiry was brimming with something that sounded like hope to her.

“Oh, yes, I’ve always loved it.  In fact, I love it as much as I’ve disliked having a birthday on Christmas because it is beautiful and unique and it made me feel beautiful and unique.”

A wave of pure delight lit up his face and something clicked in her mind.  Her parents’ version of where her name came from was always that someone had mentioned it to them and they couldn’t remember who it had been.

“It was you, wasn’t it,” Astrid said.  And it wasn’t a question. “It was your suggestion.”

He worried at his lower lip, a tic she’d come to know years ago that was a sure indication of him being both pleased and embarrassed.

“Yes,” the soft affirmation punctuated by the crackles and pops from the fire. “And your description is precisely how I thought of it then, thanks to having just started Latin in school, and,” a heartbeat of silence, “it is how I think of you now.”

He was standing directly in front of her and paused to survey her face for a few seconds before tapping lightly under her chin.  

Without even thinking about it, it seemed, she looked up at the ceiling so he could wrap the heated scarf around her neck.  The warmth felt wonderful, although the feeling caused by this stunning revelation about her name and the look on his face was already warming her up in a way she tried to herself wasn’t happening.

He tucked her hair behind her ears and pulled the hat down while she argued with herself that he was simply being affectionate in the manner of a friend.

“Well,” she said, a little too loudly, stepping back from him, “That down comforter is calling to me, I guess we should be getting to bed.”

Good heavens, the bed, she thought.  As in one bed.  

As in here, as in they were stuck with a snowstorm swirling around them.  

In a cabin that was being renovated.  With no power or heat.  

On Christmas Eve.  

This couldn’t be real, it was not a Christmas movie.

“I suppose we should,” still in that soft voice.  

A distraction.  She needed a distraction.

“Oh!  I just remembered!  I have my favorite Christmas movie downloaded on my phone, we can watch it before we go to sleep.”

Less than two hours later, David Niven was giving his sermon and Loretta Young was gazing up at him while Cary Grant walked away in the snow.  Tom was propped up a bit against the headboard and had insisted on holding the phone so she could stay under the blankets.  Somehow she had ended up almost pasted to his side as the story progressed and his arm was around her.  About halfway through, they’d had a little tussle about whether or not he should leave the warm cocoon of the bed and get them another candy cane from her Snack Pack.  He argued that they had already brushed their teeth, but a sincere plea from her with an affectionate “Be naughty with me, Professor!” addition was something he simply couldn’t resist.  

She sighed and closed her eyes, contented and drowsy and finally no longer cold, too tired and confused to attempt to figure out what was happening, how years of ignoring what was just below the surface had nearly bubbled over.  It was impossible.  He wasn’t interested.  He was just being Tom.  Typical Tom.  Caring, attentive, making you feel like you were the only person in the room.  She wouldn’t think about this anymore right now.  Maybe tomorrow.  Or not.  

Tom closed the app on her phone and noticed the time.

“Hey there, it’s 12:01.”

“Mmhhmm,” she murmured, feeling herself about to drift off.  He was so familiar, so comforting, so exactly like Christmas itself should be.  She wanted to enjoy this moment before she went back to being the little kid and he the older…the older what?

“Happy Birthday,” he said and dipped his head to kiss her forehead, his breath sweet from the earlier candy cane.

She turned upwards toward him without opening her eyes to give him a peck on the cheek, almost without knowing what she was doing in her sleepy state, but she miscalculated and missed his cheek, her mouth landing on his.

He didn’t jerk back in shock.  Or horror.

It’s now or never, she thought, suddenly wide awake and ready to throw caution out the window that was probably frozen shut by now.

Ten seconds later, ten minutes later, she wasn’t sure which, he pulled back breathlessly and she opened her eyes. 

“What are you doing?” he asked in bewilderment, in surprise, but not in accusation.

“I’m kissing you, do you mind?” she responded, quickly pulling off her mittens and his beanie so she could sink her fingers into his curls.

“I, uhm…”

“Have no fear for your virtue, Thomas,” she teased in a low voice, tugging on a fistful of those ginger locks and causing a sharp gasp from him that thrilled her and gave her courage. “We are wrapped up like a couple of stuffed sausages in this icebox and there is a foot of clothing between us.”  

His gaze narrowed and focused on her lips.

Another kiss, sweet and shy, but sure.

“I thought we weren’t secretly pining for each other,” he quoted her words back to her.

“I lied,” Astrid admitted while placing a string of kisses down his nose and nipping the tip. 

The gasp changed to a growl, his grip on her upper arms tightening.

“Santa doesn’t bring presents to little girls who lie,” using her words against her, again.

She kissed him, again.  Longer, lingering.

They were side by side now, the blankets becoming tangled.

“Did you lie?” she whispered, not knowing what to do next if he denied it, but also feeling like she couldn’t let another minute pass without settling the matter.

He propped himself up on an elbow and raised an eyebrow at her.

“I don’t recall either confirming or denying your assertion at the time,” wanting to tease her in return.

“But,” he rushed to continue upon seeing her immediately crestfallen, “I will make it absolutely clear now,” each word followed by a brush of his lips across her jaw and down her neck, “that you,” lifting his head to smile at her, “are the one I desire.”

Tears of happiness welled up and slipped down her cheeks.  

“Happy Christmas, my starshine,” he whispered against her lips.

[daleisgreat]

30 Years of Super Nintendo - Flashback Special

The Super Nintendo Entertainment System (SNES) recently celebrated its 30th anniversary of the North American launch, so it seems the perfect time to post a Flashback Special honoring it! Suppose you have not perused a past Flashback Special of mine (all linked at the bottom of this entry). In that case, they are essentially my history with the platform over the years, with a little bit of history thrown in, and recounting all my favorite games, accessories, memories, and moments with the system.

Odds are for the average gaming enthusiast reading this, and you probably are familiar with the core details of the SNES launch stateside (if not, then I highly recommend CGQ’s video on it for a quick breakdown). The SNES launched in 1991 when I was eight. I did not have a subscription to any gaming magazines yet, so I most likely first found out about the system around that time from classmates at the time at school, the infamous Paul Rudd commercial, and the fourth season of Roseanne that transpired from 1991-92. I vividly remember the Roseanne episode with her son, DJ, pleading with his parents for the brand new SNES for his birthday gift and how his parents dreaded not being able to afford the system. I covered that episode when I did my Roseanne complete series re-watch here in the year leading up to the relaunch of the show several years ago. It brought back memories of how that was the story with my parents also denying me the much sought-after SNES, saying it cost too much and that I already have an NES to tide me over. ”But mommmmm, the SNES is 16-bits!!!!” Yeah….playing that angle got me nowhere. Kiosks & Friends The first couple of years for the SNES, I mostly remember playing at store kiosks. Super Mario World blew me away from the brief time I played it with it being such a leap from the NES installments. I always ate up the precious few minutes I could procure at a store kiosk if no one were playing Super Mario Kart. One last store kiosk memory was eye-gazing over the impressive WWF Royal Rumble. I loved WWF WrestleFest in the arcade, and for a couple of years, it was the only WWF game that offered up WWF’s marquee over-the-top rope elimination match, the Royal Rumble, and it was endlessly fun to play in the arcade. Fast-forward to playing it on console kiosks around its 1993 release, and I could not eat up enough of that game’s Royal Rumble mode either, and at the time, the graphics seemed like a huge step up from the wrestling games on NES. One of my favorite issues of Nintendo Power is the 50th issue that did a several-page spread on WWF Royal Rumble that I must have thoroughly re-read at least a dozen times.

I read this NP spread of WWF Royal Rumble many times, and it was one of my initially most desired SNES games! Around 1993/94, a couple of friends and classmates started to get the Super Nintendo. An early SNES memory that stuck with me all these years is my grade school friend, Jon-Paul, having me over for his birthday where he rented a SNES console and Street Fighter II: Turbo from the video store, and we played it for several hours straight. Another is spending a lot of 1994 at my neighborhood friend’s place, where we played countless sessions of NBA Jam and Mortal Kombat II. Both games were big on codes and secrets and perfect two-player games. I was just regularly getting into video game magazines at this time and ate up issues of Tips & Tricks, Game Players, and Electronic Gaming Monthly to see what kind of hidden character and other much-rumored codes were making the waves each month for both of these games. Mortal Kombat II especially dominated the code-fervor that season with trying to uncover how to face off against secret characters like Jade, Noob Saibot, and Smoke, and trying to memorize all the input sequences for the game’s infamous Fatalities. Fast forward to late 1995/early 1996, and I still did not have a SNES, but a new neighborhood friend, Rich, just got one and the next several months at his place introduced me to so many SNES games. Rich kind of got me somewhat into RPGs at the time, and while it may not sound fun on paper, there were many times I recall just kind of embracing the role of “armchair gamer.” I did this for games like EVO: Search for Eden, and Eye of the Beholder while keeping an eye out during gameplay to offer whatever suggestions seemed viable.

FFVI was eye-opening to me at the time of what video game narratives were capable of, and I devoured the latest secrets for FFVI discovered in the latest issue of my Game Players subscription that was delivered. The RPG I felt like that I contributed something to was the game that was originally released as Final Fantasy III. That game featured two-player support for battles only, so it was refreshing to help Rich with progressing through the game finally. My two favorite characters to use were Sabin and Cyan. That game especially blew me away with its larger-than-life story with two different game worlds, the momentous opera scene with Celes, the dazzling mode-seven graphics when traveling via airship or Chocobo, constantly getting irked at Shadow whenever he deserted the party, and so many other priceless moments. Over the years, I tried restarting the GBA version on a couple of occasions and regrettably have yet to finish it. Finally Owning a SNES….in 1996

Growing up with divorced parents put me in a unique childhood when it came to gaming. I lived with my mom, who provided for us as best as possible for the three siblings I grew up with, so we only had an NES for us for the longest time. However, when visiting my dad on weekends, he would always be big on hitting up as many garage sales and second-hand stores as possible and would acquire whatever he thought seemed like a bargain. Games-wise, this usually meant he lagged behind a generation because everyone was offloading their Atari VCS/2600s at garage sales for cheap when the NES was king, so I could have a great couple of years to become familiar with the pioneering-era of games on Atari. He then got into the NES scene when the SNES hit in 1991. Sure enough, the same month the N64 launched in America in September 1996 was when he bought a Super Nintendo for the family used at our local Premiere Video. The game we picked up with it was Street Fighter II: Turbo. My dad instantly remarked upon booting it up the noticeable jump in graphics. We played nothing but Capcom’s second Street Fighter game on SNES for a few weekends. I could only finish that game by button mashing into a victory against the final boss, M. Bison, once….with M. Bison. I still have a lot of love for this era of Street Fighter - whether it be for the roster, every character’s stage and theme music, and receiving Nintendo Power’s strategy guide for the game for Christmas and studying it regularly to improve.

After a few weeks, we realized we needed something else than a fighting game, and after another trip to Premiere Video, we came home with Super Mario All-Stars. It felt like the easy choice to go with 16-bit remakes of all four 8-bit versions of the core Mario Bros. games. Every game felt like a whole different game with all-new graphics and sound, and more importantly, being able to save progress midgame. This was a bigger hit with the entire family, and it provided many days of taking turns in its alternating two-player mode to see who could get the farthest in the four Mario games included.

Make sure to have some tissues by your side as you witness FFIII/VI's infamous "opera" scene. Seriously, this was mind-blowing stuff to 13-year old Dale in 1996. 16-bit Sportsball Fun

After playing a lot of those first two SNES games, I went into this stretch for the next several years, where most of what I played was sports and wrestling games. I attribute this to many multiplayer sessions with Rich, my brother, Joe, and my dad. I know my dad was not all that into sports other than a passing interest in rooting on hometown Minnesota pro-sports teams. Still, I have to give him credit for spending as much time with us and taking the time to learn and become a pretty solid player at teaming up with me in many sports games. It is worth noting that I feel the 16-bit era is probably the last-gen where most of its library of sports games had a relatively simple pick-up-and-play feel that NES games had. That changed a little bit in the final SNES years, where it was usually EA’s games that started to incorporate more realism in their sports games and make use of most of the buttons of the SNES controller. For football, Madden NFL ‘97 was the one I played the most. I played plenty of the Genesis version at Rich's place, so much so that I noticed too many little differences with the SNES version to make it stand out on its own. For 16-bit sports nuts that want to know, the Genesis version had the better playing version, but the SNES had a better overall presentation and more popping audio and visuals. I was part of a small slice of sports gamers big into NES Play Action Football, and the 16-bit version played almost exactly like the NES version, but with a 16-bit upgrade and also has a nifty feature to play games at the high school, college, or NFL level.

NBA Jam and NBA Hangtime dominated my 16-bit sports lineup. The code scene for these games were so intense at the time I had to keep my own binder of notes on them all that I still have today as seen above! As I alluded to earlier, when it came to hoops, I played way too much NBA Jam the first year it was out at my friend’s place. However, the arcade hoops game I played the most on SNES was NBA Hangtime, which was developed by the same people who made Jam. I got that game new for Christmas in 1996 and must have played it regularly with Rich for nearly a year straight. I do not hear that game receive the same level of praise as Jam, but it added a few new fun layers to freshen up the gameplay, like being able to do co-op dunks and earn “Team Fire,” and being able to create players. For more simulation-focused hoops, I played a lot of NBA Live ’96 with my dad, in addition to Nintendo’s NCAA Basketball which appeared like a technical marvel to me that was ahead of its time with the mode-seven camera allowing constant 3D rotation whenever possession of the ball changed and foreshadowed what would become the go-to camera perspective for the next-gen of basketball games. Finally, I will cherish my time with Bill Laimbeer’s Combat Basketball for it being the only hoops game I ever had to consult a guide to figure out how to shoot the damn ball….and for its surprisingly rocking soundtrack. Find out all about it when I broke that game down with the Your Parents Basement crew on their penultimate podcast.

Nintendo incorporated the same camera style into its hockey game, NHL Stanley Cup. Its graphics also impressed me, but it was rather challenging to score a goal, and I did not have as much fun with it. I played EA’s hockey games more on Genesis than SNES, but EA’s baseball game, MLBPA Baseball, was the hardball game I spent the most time with on Super Nintendo. Many years later, I picked up Nintendo’s Ken Griffey Jr. Presents: Major League Baseball, and had some fun with it, but already played the Game Boy version of it to death by the time I picked up the SNES version, and thus did not invest as much time with it as I did with EA’s game. Wanna Wrassle!?

I must have read through this review of WWF RAW countless times in my youth, and seeing how this essentially is a bigger and better version of Royal Rumble only increased my desire to one day own a SNES! The North American wrestling library was a significant step up from the bottom of the stairwell where most of the NES games hung out….but on the SNES, it only made it roughly halfway up the stairs. The aforementioned WWF Royal Rumble provided many hours of fun for its day, but it has not stood the test of time with the button-mashing grapple meter it featured that will obliterate thumbs on the normal difficulty level! Its sequel, WWF RAW, was noteworthy for having more match types available and being one of the first games to have a selectable female wrestler in Luna Vachon, but it too used that same ill-fated grapple meter that has not aged well. WWF Wrestlemania: The Arcade Game is a fun little hybrid of Mortal Kombat and wrestling, but the SNES version is notorious for lacking two wrestlers compared to all other home versions.

For non-WWF games, WCW SuperBrawl Wrestling is rather unremarkable….except for its exceptional wrestler select screen.There were a few interesting unlicensed wrestling games in America. Natsume Championship Wrestling featured a solid wrestling engine but removed/altered the AJPW wrestlers from the Japanese version of the game. Hammerlock had a promising concept of having part of the screen dedicated to nonstop Tecmo-esque cinematics. In contrast, the other half of the screen featured 2D gameplay, but the cameras constantly flipped on screen, to which half was dedicated to cinematics or gameplay. It resulted in it being a jarring mess. Saturday Night Slam Masters is no such mess, however, and is a better hybrid of fighting game meets wrestling game, with this one done by Capcom. It features larger-than-life character sprites, full-on ring entrances with laser lights, and is a fun-playing combination of wrestling and Street Fighter. To top it off, Slam Masters has Final Fight’s Mike Haggar on the roster to boot!

Joey Pink does a fine job detailing why Capcom's "Street Fighter" in a wrestling ring should not be missed! Ensuring RPGs are here to Stay Aside from watching Rich play some of the RPGs I listed above, and of course, playing Final Fantasy VI with him, I did get a chance to play a few other RPGs on the SNES over the years, and it was not until the last few years that I finally finished a couple of them. In the late 1990s I first started two RPGs that stood out to me at the time because they broke out of the medieval fantasy mold most other RPGs at the time took place in. Shadowrun on the SNES was drastically different from the Genesis version I first encountered at Rich’s. This one still had the same futuristic cyberpunk world setting and terminology, but there were many more dialog options with NPCs that were pivotal in asking the right questions to progress the story. Additionally, the hacking games played out differently and had more of a puzzle theme to them than the action-oriented ones in the Genesis version, and the combat had kind a PC interface where a cursor had to be dragged across the screen on which target to aim at. I still wound up being totally into it and became stuck in the back half of the game before my save data became corrupted. I thought that would end my days with Shadowrun…

SNES Shadowrun remains one of my all-time favorite RPGs as of this writing! The final gauntlet tower was an ordeal and a half to work through, only to face off against a dragon as the final boss! …until nearly two decades later in 2016. I mentioned on past flashback specials how I occasionally guest host on the Your Parents Basement podcast, where they cover a random retro game per episode. In 2016 they asked me if there were any games I had in mind to cover, and Shadowrun felt like worth revisiting and possibly knocking off the “must beat this game” bucket list. I progressed until about a little over halfway through by the time we all met to record and broke down the game, but by that point, I just started to make further progress than my last effort and was determined to see this one through! I was playing on actual SNES hardware and was surprised that the battery still held a save but ran into trouble in the final tower with a gauntlet of enemies on each floor to overcome before the final boss. I looked up a walkthrough and discovered an exploit to grind experience to beef up my character. Eventually, I managed to persevere and finally conquer the final boss, a fire-breathing dragon, to cross finishing Shadowrun off my bucket list! I had a riot podcasting with the YPB crew about it too, so please click or press here to give it a listen if you want to know more about this under-the-radar 16-bit RPG.

Fast forward three years later in 2019, and the awesome YPB hosts of Steve, Huell, and Todd helped me once again restart and finish another SNES RPG that I came close to finishing in the late 1990s before evil corrupt save data reared its ugly head again. This time the game of choice is the uber-expensive Earthbound. Like Shadowrun, that game stood out to me because its setting went against the grain of fantasy settings and instead took place in modern times as grade school kids. The opening levels felt like getting lost in your neighborhood and using childlike items as weapons like Yo-Yos and baseball bats. I do not own that ridiculously expensive game, but by 2019 I did own a SNES Mini (more on that in a bit) that I made sure to abuse the save state and the rewind functions it provided to overcome some troubling bosses in the back half of the game. That final act of the game certainly goes places with its sci-fi twists and feels like an entirely different game, but I still loved it all the same! It felt exhilarating to finally knock this one off my “to do” list as well, and I had just as much fun dissecting it to pieces with the YPB crew that you can check out by click or pressing here. Unfortunately, this is where my extensive hands-on time with SNES RPGs comes to an end. I played a lot of FFIII/VI, and finished Earthbound, and Shadowrun. Sure, I dabbled in several other games but did not put more than an hour or two into them. One of those games is the much-heralded, Legend of Zelda: A Link to the Past, and I have no excuse for never sticking with it because I loved the NES original. It was the GBA re-release I played, and I think I was spreading myself thin while playing and reviewing too many games simultaneously. Lufia and Breath of Fire II were another pair of RPGs I put a couple of hours into that both left me with promising first impressions, but there was a whole other reason why I did not go back to those again, and that is because then I was waist-deep at the time in….. Discovering Emulation Right around the time my family acquired its first computer in the fall of 1997 was when I found out about emulation. It seemed way too good to be true to easily download and play games right on the computer, especially when factoring in the SNES was at the tail end of its lifecycle, and there were still new games releasing for it. As an unemployed 9th grader at the time, I sampled countless 8- and 16-bit ROMs with the SNES games I was the most curious about. A few of the RPGs in the previous paragraph being prime examples of the ones I invested the most time into. It proved to be overwhelming with so many choices, but I took a long sabbatical after a year or so of taking in the emulation scene after the family computer crashed and I lost all the save data I had amassed in so many games.

It has been interesting to see how emulation has evolved over the years from programs like SNES9X and Retroarch to being incorporated into machines like the MISTer, RetroPi, and Retron 5. Nintendo has learned to embrace official, legal emulation over the years with purchasable digital classic games on systems such as the Wii, WiiU, and 3DS. Having a stable income as an adult now many years later, I feel guilty for embracing the emulation scene so hard in my teenage years, so much so that whenever Nintendo re-releases one of its classic hits several times over, I choose to purchase it again (well…usually at a sale price) to redeem myself. Keeping SNES Alive Today

Over the years, I find myself diving into retro games versus the latest and greatest coming out. I am a fan of the various SNES hardware updates/clones, both officially from Nintendo and unofficially from other companies, which has kept my SNES and other retro game fandom blood flowing over the decades. I am unsure if it feels right to lump it in here, but the Super Game Boy lead to me getting a lot of extra life out of my SNES. Playing Game Boy games on the big screen was a big deal to me back then, considering it was always a pain to make out what was happening on the non-backlit handheld. For some reason, those special border screens that would eventually have funny animations after being left idle for so long made an impression on me. Game Boy games with the “Super Game Boy Enhanced” logo on the front of the box usually have their own exclusive border and special color palette. I loved the Mole Mania and Donkey Kong Land borders the most! I thought it was rad that around 15-20 special enhanced Super Game Boy titles featured multiplayer support with two SNES controllers. They consisted almost entirely of Bomberman and fighting games, but it was still a cool feature nonetheless. The handheld Hyperkin SupaBoy is the unauthorized SNES take on the Sega Nomad by having a portable SNES. It is a bit on the bulky side, but it has a rechargeable battery, and its support has been flawless with my entire SNES library. Another Hyperkin product I got a lot of use out of is the Retron 5. I know that particular clone system is controversial with retro game enthusiasts based on the unauthorized emulators it implements. However, the user interface and emulation support made it possible for me to make record progress in many SNES games by taking advantage of save states and its optional Game Genie-esque cheats library. The SNES Classic Edition is an excellent official piece of hardware from Nintendo that has the pint-sized SNES pre-installed with 21 SNES games, one of which is previously unreleased Star Fox 2. It has an adorably intuitive interface and supports game rewinding and save states, which made it the way I was finally able to finish Earthbound. It was also surprisingly not-so-difficult to plug into a PC and import a bunch of SNES ROMs into. Other companies like 8bitdo made that system extra convenient by making their recommended wireless controllers compatible with it!

If you did not grow up with the SNES, then both of these options are great entry points for those looking to move on beyond emulators. The Analogue Super NT may have been pushing it too much price-wise. When it comes down to the nuts and bolts of emulation tech, I am not a wizard by any means, except that by all sources, it sounds like the Super NT offers the best hardware emulation with its FPGA technology. It makes SNES games appear as pristine as possible on an HD/4KTV without any or as minimal of the fuzziness that happens whenever I try plugging in the composite/RCA cables from a base SNES system into a 4K/HDTV. For those unfamiliar with the Super NT, this video from the My Life in Gaming crew does a thorough dissection of everything it has to offer. The list of options in there is intimidating to mess around with, but this sounds like the way to go if one wants to keep playing their cartridges……although I have to admit I am pretty satisfied currently with the Retron 5 and SNES Classic Edition.

Odds are some of you are quite a bit younger than me and grew up post-SNES lifecycle. Not interested in going down the pricey road of hunting down old cartridges and hardware, and do not want to dabble on the dark side of illegal emulation? Then a terrific alternative is if you have a Switch with Nintendo’s $20/year online service membership and taking advantage of the Nintendo Switch Online and Super Nintendo Switch Online digital game portals. It has unlimited access to the slate of games on there, along with save points as long as your membership remains active. The implementation of save states and the user interface has also improved noticeably over the emulation used for NES & SNES Classic Editions. More importantly, it adds the feature to play online with a friend. Last year I played online SNES games with my nephew, who was wrapping up 6th grade at the time, and this was his first time playing SNES games. He loves Mario Kart 8 on Switch, and so when the first game we played was the original Super Mario Kart, I could not help but crack up when he instantly remarked, “Dale, this looks old!” He eventually came around, and then we had some fun playing co-op , Joe & Mac . A couple of years ago, on my Genesis Flashback Special, I made sure to reminisce of my fond memories of the summer I spent playing nonstop Sega Channel. These NES/SNES Switch portals are essentially the Sega Channel, but far better because it does not cost $15 a month (in 1994 dollars which equals $27.63 today per Google), offers multiple save states, and ability to play online for only $20 a year!!! Kids, get your parents to hook you up now!!! Miscellaneous Quick Hits

SNES games were the most common denominator on six of the 13 episodes I guest hosted on the retro game podcast, Your Parents Basement. Check out their full archives by click or pressing here. -Turns out I did quite a few guest hosting spots on Your Parents Basement Podcast for SNES games. For those that are podcasting fiends and dug the three episodes I linked to already, then I will link you to three more SNES themed episodes I appeared on where I breathed in the Mode 7 skies of Pilotwings, embraced Capcom’s action-platformer prowess in X-Men: Mutant Apocalypse, and made sure not to miss any Gatorade and Wheaties health pick-ups in Michael Jordan: Chaos in the Windy City.

-The SNES controller is my favorite pre-disc console era controller. It kept the similar button layout of the NES controller but rounded off the edges into its iconic “dog bone” feel so the controller no longer cramped in your hands! Throw in the two extra face buttons and two additional shoulder buttons, and it opened up all kinds of deeper gameplay possibilities! It made it perfect for most fighting games that used almost all the face and shoulder buttons. I found the shoulder buttons were also smartly implemented in NBA Jam/Hangtime for being assigned to use for turbo speed functionality. As far as other SNES controllers/peripherals go, since I loved the NES Zapper, I always wanted to try the Super Scope, but as a kiddo, its bazooka-sized proportions were kind of intimidating. It still kind of bums me out all these years I never got to experience it with epics like Yoshi’s Safari, T2: The Arcade Game, and Tin Star. I never had an opportunity to use the SNES mouse either, which I kind of regret all these years later after seeing all the marvelous creations from experts at Mario Paint, and it was cool to see some PC ports like Civilization, Doom, and Wolfenstein 3D take advantage of SNES Mouse compatibility.

-The 16-bit era was when fighting games exploded, and as you can tell above, I spent a lot of time with Street Fighter II: Turbo, and the first two Mortal Kombat games. Other than that, though, the only other fighting game on SNES I put significant time into was TMNT Tournament Fighters. It was released at the tail end of the TMNT-mania when the cartoon peaked at its popularity. The game itself was a surprisingly competent licensed fighting game from Konami, and tried its best to feel like a solid Street Fighter-clone. Speaking of them pesky turtles… -…TMNT IV: Turtles in Time was the only beat-em-up brawler I put considerable time into on the SNES. I have vague memories of trying others out once or twice like The Peace Keepers, and Super Double Dragon, but Turtles in Time was the one I frequently revisited over the years. It is a superb rendition of the arcade game, with SNES-exclusive levels like the Technodrome that had a fantastic first-person boss fight against Shredder, where lowly Foot Soldiers had to be chucked right at him to defeat Shredder. The soundtrack is one of my favorite SNES scores, so much so that I went all-in to get the for it! I have so many great memories of this game, with the highlight being my friend Matt and I revisiting this for complete runs of it once every year or two for about a dozen years.

Turtles in Time and FFIII/VI are my favorite SNES soundtracks, but Turtles in Time I own on vinyl so I will embed it here in all its glory for you to enjoy as well!

-The SNES library had a quality slate of racing games. Super Mario Kart quickly rose to the top of the ranks and was always fun to bust through a GP with a friend. Street Racer was one of the first kart-clones to hit in 1994, and for some reason, that one always stuck with me. As did it being one of the few games to have four-player split-screen support with all four screens being horizontal! Rock ‘n Roll Racing is another killer arcade racer on SNES; think of a more beefed up RC Pro-AM, but with a good dose of heavy metal mixed in. This past year saw it re-released as part of the Blizzard Arcade Collection for everyone to experience it! I remember trying out F-Zero at a store kiosk around SNES launch, but was too young at eight years old at the time to fully grasp its style of futuristic racing (or that the name was a riff on F1 racing until a couple of years ago). I was more into a game similar to its style that was the trilogy of Top Gear titles. Uniracers was a quirky racer I enjoyed with its unique aesthetic and one-wheeled racers taking advantage of their nature in races filled with jumps and loop-de-loops….too bad about Pixar holding a grudge against Nintendo and legally forcing them to yank it off shelves. Nintendo’s other racer, Stunt Race FX, was ahead of its time with the polygonal FX-based graphics running pretty chunky on the SNES. Still, it is a commendable piece of 16-bit tech they were just barely able to keep running at a passable-enough framerate. Another FX-chip game that did not originally gel with me was…

-…the original Star Fox. Being 10 when it released in 1993, I thought those polygonal graphics looked blocky and horrendous and would have none of it! Many years later, I would revisit it and rightfully come around on it! -Another Nintendo-published game that received a lot of hype was Donkey Kong Country with its cutting-edge 3D models. They were plastered all over gaming mags at the time. I briefly recall trying out the first and second of the three Donkey Kong Country games on SNES. However, I did not put more time into them because I beat Donkey Kong Land on Game Boy before our family got a SNES, which was just a watered-down port with some remixed levels for the handheld. I enjoyed my time with it, but its disappointingly blunt “congratulations” ending left a bad impression on me, and I never felt like giving the other entries a serious go all these years.

-Some may be wondering why there has yet not been anything dedicated to the pair of Super Mario World titles and Super Mario RPG? Super Mario World was probably one of the first SNES games I tried when I visited my older brother at his first apartment in the early 90s. I think the heavy-duty graphics and trying to comprehend attacking with Yoshi proved to be too much for eight or nine-year-old me at the time. I played it a few other times in my 20s, hanging out with coworkers on retro game nights, and had fun with it, but I think since I was exposed to the NES trilogy more and played the hell out of All-Stars, that those were the versions I preferred more. I appreciated how Nintendo stepped up to Sega’s edgier marketing at the time with Nintendo’s “Play it Loud” marketing campaign. Unfortunately, I think their ad for Super Mario World 2: Yoshi’s Island was a bit too extreme for 12-year old Dale at the time. That ad (click here for it if you are feeling daring)was forever planted in my subconscious and always crossed my mind and indirectly caused me to avoid Yoshi’s Island for all these years. I did pick up Super Mario RPG and it is on my “bucket list” of games to play as well. I am holding off on it all these years because I was hanging out with Matt one day, and he explained how he was having a tough time with the final boss, Smithy. Well, he wanted to give me a quick demo to show how unforgiving of a challenge the boss was….but for some reason his clutch gaming skills kicked in right then, and he beat Smithy and was exposed to the ending right then and there!

-As far as other tough SNES games go, the two most challenging for me are easily Contra III: The Alien Wars and Zombie Ate My Neighbors. Contra III is like the first two games on steroids. I love the boss battles and intense walk-n-shoot chaos, but do not love constantly dying in one shot! Zombies Ate My Neighbors is another fun action-platformer that is also equally tough to make it farther than a few levels in unless you seriously dedicate yourself to it. Hey, both of these games also saw re-releases this past year on current consoles with the Contra Anniversary Collection and Zombies Ate My Neighbors & Ghoul Patrol set for those wanting to experience 16-bit nail-biting difficulty (but with save state support!).

I hope this excellent video review from the quintessential retro video game source, Jeremy Parish, suffices for my lack of any meaningful Super Mario World memories here. -In 1997, I was hyped for a late SNES release, the original Harvest Moon. The farm/life/dating-sim series is still around today from publisher Natsume (as well as the original developers parting ways with Natsume and delivering their own competing Story of Seasons series). During the SNES era, I spent several summers out on a farm. I appreciated rural life's solitude and free spirit lifestyle, and that first Harvest Moon game perfectly encapsulated that. Trying to determine the best way to spend the day tending to the fields, livestock and managing a social/family life was surprisingly fun and engaging! Harvest Moon remain one of two games that I submitted a blurry Polaroid photo to Nintendo Power’s “Arena” high score section. I cannot recall if my score got posted or not.

-The original Sim City port on SNES received a lot of love around the SNES launch window, with Nintendo giving it a unique makeover with bonus Nintendo characters in it and an exclusive tutor in the form of Dr. Wright to ease everyone into the simulation gameplay. I never played too much of that version, but one night at Rich’s, the game we decided to rent that night was Sim City 2000. That one was released way late into the SNES lifecycle and lacked any Nintendo extras the first SNES game had. Still, we stayed up all night playing it and looking at our daily news recap and mayor approval ratings and trying to figure out where to stop underwater pipe blockages! It ran slowwww on the SNES, but we tolerated it fine enough at the time because I had yet to play the PC version. Eventually, I would check out the PC version and came away surprised with so much I had to put up within the SNES game. -For those wanting to dare the Super Famicom scene, there are a plethora of great games that never made their way stateside, and better yet, a hearty chunk of them have received English fan translations. I am partial to the FirePro wrestling games that never made it here that are vastly superior to all the American wrestling games I broke down above, BS Out of Bounds Golf is an addicting take on miniature golf, the original Star Ocean, and the Back to the Future platformer that was not a five-star classic by any means, but blew away the poor NES and Genesis games that did release here. If you are not that familiar with the Super Famicom library, this top 50 list from RVG Fanatic is a great place to start your research and very much helped clueing me into a bunch of Super Famicom games I had little-to-no knowledge of. Conclusion

If you are around my age reading this, you may be wondering why I have not gone on about the fabled “16-bit Wars” by now. Rest assured, I experienced it in the lunchroom and at recess and in gaming magazines at the time. I devoured all the side-by-side screenshots in gaming mags of dual-platform releases to see if I could spot which version was better. I want to say back then, I sided with the SNES because I grew up with the NES, but that does not seem like a fair choice since I did not own a SNES until 1996. Reflecting on it, although I experienced a fair amount of RPGs and other games on SNES with Rich, I primarily played endless hours of Genesis games with him back at the time. So whenever I hung out with Rich, I considered myself a Genesis fan, and when I finally got a SNES and grew my SNES library, I considered myself a SNES fan and avoided a lot of the “console wars” trash talk. For younger readers here who want to learn more about the fervor of the 16-bit wars, the book, Console Wars, and its corresponding documentary (which is currently only available on Paramount+/CBS All Access sadly) are my recommended ways to absorb all that hoopla. I will cherish all of the past 30 years of SNES memories and hope you have enjoyed reminiscing with me for the last several thousand words. If you want to hear more of my SNES memories in podcast form, I have a few SNES-centric episodes of my old podcast I recently un-vaulted and have embedded below for your pleasure. They have some of the friends I repeatedly mentioned above as co-hosts that share their SNES experiences and memories, so please load up a random SNES “podcast game” and boot one of these podcasts up for fitting background noise….

10 years ago I did a 20th anniversary SNES special with Matt!

Here is the history of RPG series episode dedicated to the 16-bit era.

Finally, here is Matt and I hosting the 16-bit installment of our history of comic book games series. Bonus Overtime

It would not be a Flashback Special without one random oddball bonus story to wrap it up with. The only Kirby game I ever finished receives that honor. One day, my brother and his friend Jake were over at my place. We were discussing SNES games at some point, and Jake mentioned how Kirby Super Star is his all-time favorite. I said how I never played it and did not think anything of it at the time, but the next time I met up with him and my brother, Jake had the copy of that game with him and insisted on borrowing it to me and said not to give it back until I finished it. I felt this sudden obligation to play through it as a priority, so I did not feel like I was keeping his game hostage. Luckily, Kirby Super Star is a damn fun game, which the front of the box labels as “8 Games in One!” Most of the games are abbreviated-length adventures of only a handful of missions in their unique theme of levels, and a few of the games are mini-games like a race against King DeDeDe. Regardless, almost every game provided that trademark Kirby lighthearted fun and was hard to put down! Kirby’s Dream Course is also a lot of fun on SNES, and is an interesting take of Kirby meets miniature golf! With that anecdote, I will wrap up yet another Flashback Special. Thank you for sticking with me this far, and If you dug reading about my trials and tribulations with Nintendo’s 16-bit machine, please take a look at the other Flashbacks I have linked below!

My Other Gaming Flashbacks Dreamcast 20th Anniversary GameBoy 30th Anniversary Genesis 30th Anniversary NES 35th Anniversary PSone 25th Anniversary PS2 20th Anniversary PSP 15th Anniversary and Neo-Geo 30th Anniversary Saturn and Virtual Boy 25th Anniversaries TurboGrafX-16 30th and 32-X 25th Anniversaries Xbox 360 15th Anniversary

[elgaberino-mcoc]

MCOC Wishlist Blog Character Spotlight KNULL

by Marco “Prophet of Knull” Garcia ed. Other Gabe

BACKGROUND

Knull is an ancient malevolent deity whose existence predates the universe itself, and was originally content to drift through the endless abyss that existed before time.

He used his weapon, the Necrosword, to combat the Celestials who disturbed his darkness. With this sword Knull severed the head of a Celestial. That head is now Knowhere, a popularly-known Marvel location and a battle zone in the Marvel Contest of Champions Battlerealm.

Wanting an army, Knull then constructed the aliens we all know, love, and sometimes hate, the Klyntar race of gooey symbiotic aliens.¹ Later, after a debacle with the Mighty Thor, the symbiotes rebelled against their “God” and trapped him on a desolate planet, later known as Klyntar. There the God of Symbiotes waits and plans his escape, hoping to one day lay waste and bring Darkness to the universe.

“The End is near. God is coming….”  

Editor’s note: the next several sections are designed to familiarize the reader with Knull’s worthiness to be featured in a video game, compared with the myriad other Marvel characters from whom Kabam could choose.

POPULARITY

Technically, Knull has been around since 2013, and appeared in Thor: God of Thunder Vol.1 #6 by Jason Aaron and Esad Ribic, as he was a shadowed figure from whom Gorr the God Butcher steals All-Black the Necrosword.

He was then revealed by name by his creators in Venom Vol. 4 #3 by Donny Cates and Ryan Stegman in 2018. 

Knull has had huge fan buzz around him since his inception and his name is only getting bigger. Despite fewer than a dozen appearances initially, Knull headlined the King in Black line-wide event that began in December 2020, from the minds of Donny Cates and Ryan Stegman. 

Editor’s note: Arguably named after Knull, the King in Black initial release was considered critically to be a high-stakes situation, due to the perceived hype. Its comics made regular appearances in bestseller lists after the event launched, suggesting the Knull name and story, in conjunction with the strength of his creators’ reputations, was strong enough to sell books. Overall the King in Black arc has also gotten good critical reviews. 

KNULL AS MATERIAL FOR OUR MARVEL GAME

Editor’s note: these character spotlights usually explore several factors to determine whether it is reasonable to expect Kabam to seriously consider the character as a candidate for addition to Marvel Contest of Champions. Among these factors are inclusion in other similarly-marketed games, mainstreaming in comics and other media, mentions in MCOC lore, Kabam conversation, or community rumors, and pure hype among summoners.

OTHER MARVEL GAMES

Knull has been featured in other games already: first in the Spider-Man Unlimited mobile app,² then in Marvel Future Fight. In Marvel Puzzle Quest, Knull was originally only part of the backstory description of the playable Prophet Carnage character, but was eventually released in his own right in May 2021.

KNULL AND THE BATTLEREALM

Arguably no direct mention of Knull has happened in either [Marvel Contest of Champions or Marvel Realm of Champions], but it can be said he was alluded to in the motion comic that accompanied the release of Cosmic Ghost Rider and Red Goblin in October 2020.

Then, when story mode Act 7 was released in December 2020, this dialogue was revealed, which has been strongly speculated to be a reference to Knull.

CLAIM TO FAME: KNULL IN OTHER MEDIA

Knull has not enjoyed a reference in any Marvel Cinematic Universe content to date. Hel has only been mentioned in the Disney XD cartoon Spider-Man: Maximum Venom with a retelling loosely based on his comic book origins. 

UNIQUE WAYS KNULL COULD FIT INTO THE MCOC META

Knull could be a massive boost (editor’s note: synergy hub) to many Symbiote champions or champions in general. I see him as a Cosmic [based on what I was told by co-creator Ryan Stegman], with massive damage. Being the creator of symbiotes, Knull could outfit any [non-#Symbiote] champ with a “Klyntar symbiote” of their own to enhance their kit or base numbers. He could also operate with #Symbiote champs similarly to the way Apocalypse enhances Mutant champs. He could also work as a counter to Symbiotes or anyone who would have ever been bonded to a Klyntar before in canon, which would include most of the Spider-Fam!

Knull’s kit could alternately introduce a #Codex tag to add to certain non-#Spiderverse Hero champs who have famously bonded to symbiotes (paging Red Hulk or even Deadpool).³

A PEEK BEHIND THE CURTAIN?

No mention of Knull ever came out of the Kabam team or anyone related to MCOC. Then again, Kabam never likes to tease big-name additions like Knull would be. Mid-September 2021, one data miner claimed that Knull is forthcoming.

WHAT DO SUMMONERS THINK?

Summoners seem to dig Knull. He was the winner of the first Tournament  of Battlerealm Future, March Addness 2020, which was co-hosted by MCOC Wishlist creator Other MCOC Gabe and Unofficial MCOC Podcast veteran UMCOC Deacon on Twitter. The tournament pitted hundreds of characters against one another for votes from Summoners expressing who they would prefer to enter Marvel Contest of Champions. He cleaned house throughout most of the tournament, earning his addition to the MCOC Wishlist, where he has risen into the top 50 most wanted champions.

Due to recent ramblings by the author, and the introduction of Red Goblin to Marvel Contest of Champions, people have warmed up to the idea that Knull might actually be coming to the contest. (Even community-renowned comics expert CTMCOC agrees!)

Once below rank 250 on the MCOC Wishlist, Knull now stands as the #31 most-wanted champ, with over 550 Summoner upvotes as of this writing. 

KNULL: CHAMPION BUILD IDEAS

PROBABLE CLASS

As mentioned above, Knull is a canonically cosmic entity or deity who purports to predate the universe itself. This forms a strong case for the MCOC Cosmic class of champions.

POSSIBLE ABILITIES

Like many Cosmic champs’ builds, I can see his relying on many Active Buffs with massive damage and defensive potential due to Symbiotic Armor. Perhaps as Knull collects Codices, he gets stronger and this mechanic could be used in game as persistent charges. The more Codices he gathers, the more potent his Buffs could become. He could utilize Fury, Aptitude, Armor, Cruelty, Precision, and other critical-damage-enhancing Buffs. Bleed and Armor Break Debuffs are likely as Knull breaks down his enemies with bloodthirsty ferocity.

POSSIBLE SYNERGIES

Knull's status as the God of the Klyntar could enhance all #Symbiote champions just as Apocalypse does for Mutants.

Venom could get a unique synergy called “Daddy Issues,” allowing Venom a 2% attack boost for every Buff converted on his sp2 but as passive Fury stacks. I imagine Carnage with something like a “Prophet of Knull” Synergy allowing 95% resistance to incinerate effects, allowing him to heal from Incinerates, since Carnage has no weakness to fire when he is operating as Knull’s prophet in the comics.

Knull could also be built to spend Persistent Charges to enhance #Symbiote champions in order to increase their stats and enhance their buffs.

It would also be clever to have a Synergy with Void called “Knull and Void” allowing Void access to a non-stacking Armor Break Debuff, such as on his Heavy Attack. More debuffs for Void would be devastating. 

Knull could also enjoy a basic “Enemies” synergy with Thor and Silver Surfer. A great champ to release in conjunction with Knull would be Gorr the God-Butcher, a notable Thor villain, played by Christian Bale in Thor: Love and Thunder, and the other best-known wielder of All-Black the Necrosword.

•.•.•

Editor’s note: this concludes Marco’s commentary and notes on Knull as a potential champion. Anyone tracking the conversation about future champs knows that the name of Knull comes up frequently among Summoners, and his rise in every voting event in the community tends to support the notion he is greatly demanded by Summoners and would make an excellent addition to the game.

This article was originally drafted almost entirely in late 2020, and has been dug up and completed in September 2021 after MCOC Trucos released a purportedly datamined leak suggesting Knull “is Coming” to Marvel Contest of Champions in October 2021. -OG

________

NOTES 1. The Klyntar alien race is most popularly represented by Venom, and his fellow Klyntar aliens Carnage, Scream, and the other names associated with their stories of superhuman symbiosis and “Venomization.”  2. Spider-Man Unlimited was well ahead of the curve announcing Knull for a video game in 2018. It got there by virtue of attempting to release almost every noteworthy Spider- and symbiote character as playable video game characters. Knull was not yet a character most people would consider important for gaming. 3. A codex (pl. codices) is the term for the biological traces a Klyntar symbiote leaves in its host’s system after separating from that host.

[hrodvitnon]

Post-Abraxas timeline GvK scenario - Continuity and thoughts

Continuing from my review of ‘Abraxas’ new chapter on FF .net; I thought I’d just contribute some thoughts I’ve had about how 'Abraxas’ would affect events, mythos and continuity (ways in which Abraxasverse has already deviated and diverged from Monsterverse’s post-KOTM canon and how that would impact on GvK, that sort of thing), if the GvK crisis DOES occur in some form or another canonically in Abraxasverse. Sorry it’s late, it took a lot longer to write this than I thought it would. ^^’)

This post by me is for making pointers for consideration about diverges from Monsterverse canon that the main 'Abraxas’ story has already made and how they’ll impact if a GvK scenario occurred in Abraxasverse, though I’ll also take this opportunity to share some of my own thoughts and ideas about it beyond that. :)

So, down to it:

—-

(1) Where/How/Would a Ghidorah skull come in in regards to Mechagodzilla? It’s been established in 'Abraxas’ that Abraxasverse Ghidorah’s severed heads will fight off necrosis with their healing factor and will just slowly regrow the rest of Ghidorah; that severed heads can suck the power out of any electrical systems they come in contact with to feed themselves; and that humans being too close to Ghidorah heads’ telepathy for too long is a bit like mixing lead poisoning with an over-winter stay in the Overlook even if you don’t actually sit in the head’s skull. All three of which are divergent to the implications of the Ghidorah-skull in GvK. Maybe there’s adaptation deviation in the Abraxasverse GvK scenario, where Apex use the Children of Zmei instead of a Ghidorah skull to pilot Mechagodzilla and it’s them that makes the Mecha become a sentient psychopath?

(1.5) This is just my thoughts and ideas: if it’s still a Ghidorah skull piloting MechaG instead of some of the Children of Zmei: maybe in the four years after 'Abraxas’, Ghidorah comes back again and is killed again and the skull comes from this most recent defeat, with Apex using a chemical to suppress the skull’s healing factor and assuming that was enough for them to control the evil triple-mind inside the bone. (Although after how big and dramatic that climax chapter was, I like to think that Ghidorah is now either gone for good or it’ll be a very long time, as in at least a decade in-universe, before Ghidorah ever resurges directly.) Or, maybe there’s a creepier origin story for Apex’s Ghidorah skull: Apex unearthed the skull in a dig which reveals it to be thousands of years old, and when Monarch find out after everything, they’re puzzled about why a decapitated Ghidorah head just decomposed and became a semi-sentient hunk of bone, instead of regrowing the rest of Ghidorah like San’s old head did or re-attaching itself to other severed pieces to speed up Ghidorah’s resurrection from a pre-Antarctica ancient battle. Godzilla doesn’t know anything about the skull, and neither does San. What’s creepier, Monarch’s analysis of Apex’s Ghidorah skull indicates that while the skull’s structure is the same, its DNA actually isn’t entirely identical to Ghidorah’s, as if the skull encountered something which changed its genetic makeup. A thought occurs to Viv 'n’ San: San’s decapitation at Isla de Mara probably wasn’t the first time a shed skin got split off from Ghidorah, in fact San remembers that when there was more than one shed skin each time Ghidorah died in the past, they would usually signal each-other and combine to speed up Ghidorah’s resurrection… but there were times, on alien worlds that Ghidorah conquered, when it just wouldn’t care for these shed skins before returning to space since it wouldn’t be around on the planet for them to challenge it. What if more Ghidorah clones grew from the severed pieces it left littered on the dead alien worlds once the main Ghidorah left? Godzilla, San or other Titans would surely know if a Ghidorah-clone ever set foot on Earth while they were alive - does that mean the Ghidorah skull’s owner came to Earth and died before the still-living Titans were born and before the main Ghidorah that San came from arrived on Earth? And what killed the skull’s owner? Why is it’s DNA altered: did it encounter something, on ancient Earth or in space, that changed its genetic makeup? :o Does this mean there are more creatures like it, born from Ghidorah’s remains littered on dead alien worlds, who are still amongst the stars and who might one day find their way to Earth?

(2) I’m wondering who will be in charge of Monarch when Godzilla starts rampaging. If Mark rejoins Monarch and it’s still him who’s in charge, hopefully his character development during 'Abraxas’ will mean that even if his role doesn’t change much, he’ll be a lot less of an ass now than he was in GvK, and he won’t be the same fantasy-forbidding father that he apparently was to Madison in the GvK novelisation.

(3) One major thing that’s on my mind every time I think about this: in GvK, a lot of the conflict came from the humans not understanding why Godzilla’s attacking; and Viv 'n’ San as a Titan with EVP can communicate with both humans and Godzilla. So the only way I can imagine the whole Mechagodzilla crisis wouldn’t be over in time to prevent MechaG’s activation with Maia never getting near the Hollow Earth energy source, (unless there’s more adaptation deviation) is if Viv 'n’ San are on vacay in the Hollow Earth when the Titan rampage kicks off, and therefore aren’t topside to explain to Monarch and the world that Godzilla can hear Ghidorah’s call at every place he attacks. (Who knows, maybe in Abraxasverse, Viv 'n’ San will run into Kong and Team Kong in the Hollow Earth, then follow them topside in time for Mechagodzilla’s emergence - heh, I can imagine Viv 'n’ San’s “Oh, for fuck’s sake!!” reaction to a big, cybernetic Godzilla-Terminator bursting out of a mountain with Ghidorah’s bio-acoustics howling out of it.) And on top of this, there’s also the main 'Abraxas’ story hinting that the old Bone Singers’ ways of communicating with Titans are going to start coming back soon in Abraxasverse among the human population, making it less likely humanity will be as completely in the dark about Godzilla’s rampage as they were in GvK…

(4) I’m not sure where the internet rumour that Godzilla in Monsterverse canon sent the Titans back into hibernation because he sensed the Ghidorah skull came from - from what I’ve read, in 'Godzilla Dominion’ and the GvK novelisation, Godzilla explicitly sent all the Titans back to stasis because keeping them in line while they were awake was too much for canon-Godzilla to keep managing in the long-term, unlike with Abraxas-Godzilla. Maybe the other Titans will globally participate in Godzilla’s rampage looking for the Ghidorah-piece that’s calling out to any Titan listening, and the fact it’s every benevolent Titan that’s rampaging instead of just Godzilla will proportionately fan the flames of public panic and enable Apex’s role to go unnoticed. This could actually go quite a long way to make it understandable why the public are so blind to the pattern with Apex-facilities that Godzilla is attacking; if over a dozen Titans rampaging on humanity’s cities has the public too whipped up into a panic to think straight - especially since from what we’ve seen in 'Abraxas’ so far and from what TVTropes says about the GvK novelisation’s expansion, it looks like the public generally in Abraxasverse are a bit more humbled and concerned about the Titans’ environmental importance and a bit more common-sensed after KOTM’s events than they were in GvK’s continuation. Anyway, frankly I’m hoping an Abraxasverse GvK scenario will retcon or at the very least downplay the KOTM Titans going back into hibernation - I’m in agreement with TVTropes that turning KOTM’s humans-coexisting-with-awakened-Titans setup into an aborted arc and largely letting the Titans-environmentalism thing fade into obscurity was a crappy move on the Monsterverse writers’ part.

(5) Mechagodzilla’s pilot. With how Abraxas-Ren has already interacted with the Titans and shown his father’s respect for nature, I can’t see that character going down the same path as the Monsterverse-canon Ren did. There’s that idea a Nonnie suggested that Ren could get mind-raped by Ghidorah if it comes back (or maybe by another psychic evil Titan like Gigan ;)) so Ren becomes like canon-Ren - but after Chapter 17, I feel it would be better if canon-Ren, who’s stood apart from his canon counterpart and become his own endearing character in 'Abraxas’ already, goes down his own unique path. There’s also the possibility that Abraxas-Ren could be an unwitting pawn to Apex who doesn’t know what they’re really up to, but I doubt Simmons, if he’s anything like in Monsterverse canon, could ever fully pull the wool over nature-respecting Abraxas-Ren’s eyes. If MechaG still has a pilot with a relevant role, I think the pilot should be someone else. Maybe it’s Maia, who has a bit more brains in Abraxasverse than she did in GvK. Or maybe it’s an OC.

(5.5). An idea in the latter camp I had: maybe, as a mirror-world like flip to canon-Ren; whereas in Monsterverse canon it was Serizawa’s son who was MechaG’s pilot, in Abraxasverse it’s instead the OC son of Admiral Stenz - the son who agrees with his late father about killing the Titans to prevent human casualties, but who is much more willing to murder thousands for the so-called greater good and is crossing lines that his father never would’ve crossed. Or alternatively, maybe Stenz Jr. is a bitch-in-sheep’s-clothing; he expressly disagrees with his late father’s approach to handling the Titans which almost handed the world to Ghidorah on a silver platter in 2019, and he believes humans and Titans should live together… but instead of seeking a fair coexistence, Stenz Jr. thinks the Titans should be humanity’s slaves and Sentient Batteries, replenishing the world to benefit human civilisation whilst being penned by humans who dominate them with MechaG and being harvested for any resource goodies their bodies hold.

(6) Continuing from my pointer about how the human public in Abraxasverse seem to be a bit more common-sensed generally in Abraxasverse: I’m guessing this means Apex probably won’t have the military’s under-the-table support that they had in the GvK novelisation (according to TVTropes), and instead Apex’s corporate conspiracy will rely more on underground paramilitaries and other illegal groups - including groups with anti-Titan sympathies - to get the materials and resources they need to build Mechagodzilla. OR: maybe in Abraxasverse, MechaG wasn’t built in secret by Apex; maybe in reference to your old Tumblr shenanigans about Vivienne and Serizawa using MechaG, Monarch started building MechaG so humanity could contribute in a fair and meaningful way to fate-of-the-world Titan brawls alongside Godzilla and Mothra, but Apex stole MechaG (maybe Apex used the havoc and confusion of a Titan rampage instigated by Ghidorah-remains or the Children of Zmei calling out) and they installed the Ghidorah/C.O.Z.-parts into the Mecha thinking they could control it.

(7) If this scenario does occur, considering how awesome Monsterverse-MechaG was; maybe in an Abraxasverse scenario, instead of being killed fifteen minutes after he’s born, MechaG will have the smarts to flee once Kong and Godzilla team up and the odds turn against MechaG, leading to MechaG being a longer-lived threat? Maybe he’ll even recognise Viv 'n’ San are part-Ghidorah and take an interest in the Ghidorah half of them, in contrast to Ghidorah’s interest in the human half during 'Abraxas’?

(8) The destruction of Skull Island. It was caused in Monsterverse-canon by Camazotz manipulating Ghidorah’s storm. Assuming this still happens in Abraxasverse, wouldn’t Monarch contact Viv 'n’ San and make them aware of what’s happened (if Viv 'n’ San don’t find out on their own) so they can use their Ghidorah-derived, storm-harnessing powers to try to reverse what Camazotz did? After all, Monarch would probably be thinking, since the storm will kill all non-protected life on the island if it stays that way, even if Viv 'n’ San’s attempt to change the change goes wrong, it can’t be any worse for the island than if they didn’t try. Of course, there’s still the real possibility Viv 'n’ San’s attempt could make no difference or even end up making the storm worse for the climate of places beyond the island.

So, yeah, those are just my thoughts on how a GvK scenario could occur in Abraxasverse, and the mythos and continuity considerations involved. :)

—

JAYSUS CHRIST LOOK AT THIS GOLDMINE!

Whew! So many possibilities and great ideas, thanks for sharing them! Who knows what the future brings, but what I can say is that, whenever the hell I start working on it, Chapter 18/Epilogue won’t be nearly as huge as 17 was (which was over 22 THOUSAND WORDS HOW THE FUCK), so if it’s okay maybe I’d like to leave one or two nods to this list for the AbraxasVerse take on GvK…

[ibelieveinahappilyeverafter]

Boku no Hero Academia - wear your heart on your sleeve (and treat mine gently)

I apparently only wrote two drabbles for my Patreon in 2020, but given the state of the world at the time, I hope I’m forgiven for that. A new year is here, however, and that means last year’s writing can now be seen by all of you! If you want to see more stories like this before next year, then consider pledging to my Patreon!

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia

Characters: Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic, Kayama Nemuri | Midnight, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead

Rating: Teen Audiences

Alternate Universe: Magical Descent and Mythical Creatures

Summary:  Original Prompt (Given by Patron Istas): And, hmm, for something different. Aizawa/Yamada Selkie AU. I've been loving the mermaid stories starting to float around, but you can never have too many Selkies. Wasn't there a post a while back about someone who casually gave a person their coat back and ended up Selkie married?

Word Count: 2,626

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Yamada Hizashi liked to think of himself as a remarkably unbothered teenager who didn’t often feel self-conscious when it came to his day-to-day life. Why would he, after all, when he was confident in himself, his abilities, and who he was and what he could do? He was a selkie who attended U.A. -- the best school in the country for those of magical and mythical descent. 

While U.A. wasn’t the only school, it was by far the most popular one, as well as one of the few who helped students control and harness their powers instead of just teaching them how to hide them away. Hizashi had made it into the school on his own merits, too, even with his… unique family heritage. He had nothing whatsoever to be ashamed or embarrassed about. 

At least, he thought he didn’t, until he had gained a best friend in the form of Kayama Nemuri, a classmate and succubus who enjoyed seducing people way too much and had no filter whatsoever when it came to destroying his hopes and dreams.  

“Seriously, Yamada, you’re such an idiot.” As it was, Kayama was once again yelling at him as they ate lunch, Hizashi picking at this food more than actually eating it. “You can’t just go around dropping your coat everywhere and hoping someone will find it and enter into some magical true love spell with you!” 

“Okay, first of all, that is not how it works at all.” Hizashi stabbed viciously at one of his sushi rolls, wishing he could throw it at Kayama’s head. He would if he knew she wouldn’t just try to kill him for it. “And besides, it’s not like I lost my coat or dropped it. I just… strategically draped it somewhere where someone was likely to see it and return it.” 

“Dumbass,” Kayama snorted, stealing one of his sushi rolls for herself. “You’re a selkie. You need your coat to use your most basic powers. The teachers are gonna keep getting pissed at you if you keep ‘draping it’ somewhere and not having it for classes.” 

Hizashi huffed, looking down at the spotted, fur seal coat that he had tossed across his legs after giving up hope for the day. It seemed to be radiating as much defeat as Hizashi felt. “Well, then, excuse me for trying to find my true love.” 

“Hey, did I ever say there was anything wrong with trying to find your true love or mate or whatever?” Kayama looked insulted, pointing her chopsticks at him with a scowl. “I am in full support of true, absolute love, but in your case your coat just magic mind controls whoever picks it up-”

“It does not!” Hizashi snapped, fearing his glare looked more like an upset pout than anything else. Kayama’s smirk certainly seemed to make it seem like he was pouting rather than glaring. “That’s not how selkies -- or selkie magic -- works. Yeah, sure, there are stories about it, but a selkie’s coat can’t be stolen.”

“Really?” Kayama blinked, looking surprised before she set down her chopsticks and gave him her full attention. While anyone else would be a babbling idiot at having the full attention of a succubus -- even a teenage one -- Hizashi only rolled his eyes. “Alright, then, explain it to me. Why do you keep leaving your coat around like that?” 

“It’s… We can give our coats to other people to hold onto, if we choose to, but only a few people can touch a selkie’s coat without experiencing extreme pain.” Hizashi pursed his lips, crossing his arms as he thought back to when he had first been told about what having his coat really meant. “I think Mom described it like lightning if you touch a selkie’s coat without their permission and aren’t meant for it.” 

“Alright, magical matchmaking coat. I’m with you so far,” Kayama laughed, which, alright. That was a lot better than her mocking him or accusing his coat of magical mind control. “So only you and your ‘true love’ can pick up the coat without feeling that pain?”

“And the parents of the selkie,” Hizashi put in. “Sometimes siblings, but only close siblings, I think, and only when they’re young. But, yeah, it’s- It’s destiny. Our coats… They’re like a part of our hearts.” A part off their heart and a piece of their soul; that was how their coats worked.

Hizashi dropped his hands to run through the fur of his coat, feeling warmth and safety and home as he closed his eyes and took the feeling in for a moment. He couldn’t help but to remember the stories his Mom had told him about what would happen when the one he was destined to be with picked up his coat. 

It wouldn’t just be warmth and safety, but it would be fierce devotion, and understanding, and the knowledge that this person, whoever they were, would want to stay by his side; no matter what. It wasn’t ensnaring someone, but it was finding the one person that he knew he would be able to love with no fear or doubt. 

Looking back up at Kayama, Hizashi lowered his voice to something more serious, “It’s not just ‘true love’ or ‘my mate’ it’s…” Hizashi trailed off, fingers digging into his coat more tightly. “It’s the one person who will never doubt me, or leave me, and always stick by me for me, no matter… no matter who I am.” 

There was a moment of silence, Kayama clearing her throat and patting his shoulder lightly, “Well, hey, then you’re in the perfect place to be looking, don’t you think? U.A. is full of cute, sweet little nerds who would love to be your one true love. Why, I bet the next bubbly-eyed, gap-toothed cutie that we see will be your true love, no doubt about it.” 

“You think so?” Hizashi knew he sounded weak -- vulnerable -- but he couldn’t stop himself from asking the question. Kayama could be a lot, but she was also one of the few he could call an honest friend. She knew what it would mean to him to have more of those, even if she joked about it. 

“Absolutely,” Kayama said sincerely, giving him a small smile. “Have a little more faith, lover-boy. You’ll find your true love before you know it.” 

It was just what Hizashi wanted to hear and believe in more than anything else. 

It was also, he knew, something that wasn’t likely to happen soon. 

Not considering who he was. 

Not at U.A. 

“Well, hey, if it isn’t our favorite little mutt.” Hizashi grunted as his back hit the wall hard enough to force him to bite back a yelp of pain, instead putting on his best glare. “Aw, what’s the matter, mutt? Aren’t you happy to see us?”

“Yeah, c’mon, Yamada, isn’t it nice to finally have someone who’ll talk back to you?” The three who had him surrounded were all upperclassmen who Hizashi had never bothered to learn the names of. They were also complete and utter assholes who believed he didn’t deserve a place in U.A. Well, not many did, but most chose to at least not say anything about it. “Not many want to talk to a siren, after all.” 

“Hey, now,” one of them frowned mockingly, voice ‘sympathetic.’ “He’s only half siren, you know.” The look aimed at him turned cruel, but it was nothing Hizashi hadn’t seen directed at him before. “Then again, considering the other half is some dopey little fuck who can barely do anything, I’m not sure if that’s better or worse.”

They all laughed, as if something hilarious was said, Hizashi gritting his teeth as he glared down the one holding him, growling out a quiet, “Let me go.”

“Oh! The mutt has some balls!” With that he was twisted around and thrown to the floor, Hizashi swearing as he felt a jolting pain from his wrist where he caught himself as his coat slid off his shoulders and bunched around his arms, tangling and trapping him on the floor. “Come on then, mutt. You gonna finally fight back for once?” 

The laughter started up again, one of them grinning widely, “Think he will? If he fights back, we can get him kicked out so fast. What’d that look like to the parents, you think, a siren mutt attacking a bunch of kids?”

“I think it’d look pretty bad,” the obvious leader said, taking a step forward. Before Hizashi could panic and try to scramble away he, and the other three it looked like, were all startled by the black cat standing in front of Hizashi and giving a warbling cry. “The fuck is this?” 

The cat looked like any other cat at first glance, but a closer look screamed magic. Hizashi doubted it was a shapeshifter student, since shifting wasn’t allowed in the halls, but a familiar, maybe? He didn’t know any kids with a cat familiar, though- 

“Oh? That’s unfortunate.” A new voice echoed down the halls, the bullies whirling around in surprise while Hizashi leaned to the side to peek around them. Half a dozen feet away was a kid he had never seen before, maybe a first year or possibly even a second year like him. His hair was long, shaggy, and black as the cat in front of Hizashi, red eyes piercingly looking between each and every one of them as a sharp smile climbed up his face. “Looks like a black cat crossed your path.” 

“Yeah? Is that a fucking threat?” Jeez, how unoriginal. Hizashi couldn’t believe these were the bullies he got stuck with in the drama that was his life. Couldn’t he have gotten tormented by someone with at least two brain cells? “Doesn’t seem like you know how things work around here.”

“Really? Seems just like any other school to me,” the kid drawled, eyes flicking over to once more look at Hizashi. “A bunch of self-entitled kids with rich, demanding parents with expectations that can’t be met, so instead they take it out on whoever makes the easiest punching bag.” 

Damn. That was harsh, but, well, it wasn’t exactly untrue. Stigma worked against Hizashi just enough that anything blamed on him would usually be believed. Looking back at the cat, Hizashi blinked at seeing the cat staring back at him with equally red eyes. A soft purr left the cat a moment later and Hizashi had to resist the urge to coo and draw attention to himself. 

“-if you don’t get the fuck out of here, kid.” Ah, verbal threats. So effective and witty, truly. The new guy, whoever he was, seemed to think the same, giving a snort of laughter. 

“Am I supposed to be scared?” That smile was nothing except threatening, not even fading in the slightest when the main leader of the trio raised his hand, palm extended outwards, with a smirk. Hizashi didn’t bother hiding his wince as, while he didn’t know what the kid was exactly, he knew he had fire powers. He had felt them far too many times to not know how much they could hurt.

Whoever this new guy was, Hizashi made a note to find him and try to help heal his burns after he ran off -- except he wasn’t running off. He wasn’t getting burned, either. He was just staring at the bully in front of him, smile growing while the bully looked more and more terrified as the seconds passed. 

There were no streaks of flashing fire and there was no smell of burning air and ash. There was only a terrified face and gleeful red eyes followed by a quiet, “I’ll ask you again. Is that all?”

Just like that the trio of assholes were running off and disappearing around the corner, Hizashi not too surprised by their reactions. He’d be pretty terrified, too, if he had someone angry at him that could block his powers. Actually, he might still end up being terrified, depending on how the kid felt about mutts. 

Hesitant in looking back at him, Hizashi frowned to himself as he noticed the boy had gray eyes instead of the red ones that he swore he had seen. Maybe that was a part of his power- “You alright?”

“Huh? Oh-! Yeah.” Hizashi raced to stand up, tripping and struggling over his coat before he managed to get himself free. “Sorry- Sorry, uh, yeah- Thanks, I mean. For, um… helping.” Hizashi tried to keep his head up instead of turning around and slamming his face into the wall like he so desperately wanted to do. 

“Good to hear,” the kid laughed, a smile twitching on his lips as his cat -- familiar? -- raced over and up his side before curling around his shoulders. “Aizawa Shouta. I just started here.” 

“Hell of an entrance,” Hizashi laughed, wincing at how breathless and smitten he sounded -- which he shouldn’t. The guy was just being nice- Aizawa Shouta was being nice. “I- Yamada. Yamada Hizashi.” 

Clearing his throat, Hizashi fumbled over his words for a few moments before nervously approaching Aizawa and skirting around him, “I’ll just, uh, go. You know. To class. And stuff.” He was a disaster. Why was Hizashi allowed to exist around others? He was half-siren and the only thing he could charm were the neighborhood cats when he fed them tuna!

“Yamada.” Freezing in his steps, Hizashi hesitantly looked behind him, eyes going wide as he saw Aizawa heading towards his coat which he had stupidly left on the floor after standing up and letting it slip off him. Before he could even open his mouth to warn Aizawa to not touch it, he was bending down and picking it up and… 

His mom hadn’t even begun to explain the feelings of the right person touching his coat. It was warmth and safety, but it was as if every good feeling at once was swirling through him, heady and overwhelming and enough to take his breath away. It was every bad feeling he had ever had brushed away, wiped clean from his mind like they had never existed in the first place. 

It was peace and the simplicity of being and sand spilling between his toes and ocean water lapping at his feet and salt sharp and bitter on the tip of his tongue and a fire roaring away in a hearth and the moon rising far across the waves where the sun had disappeared long ago.

It was a shy, soft smile with fingers that brushed against his own as his coat his skin his heart his soul was given back to him with such care and concern. It was Aizawa Shouta, his husband his true love his mate his friend, greeting him with a soft, “It was nice to meet you.” 

“Ye- Yeah… You, too.” Hizashi watched as Aizawa gave him another smile before walking past him down the hall. Hizashi didn’t waste a heartbeat before he was ripping his phone out and pulling up Kayama’s number, texting her desperately and they needed to go ring shopping as soon as school let out because he had just met his husband and his husband was amazing and deserved the best ring that Hizashi’s, admittedly, small allowance could buy. 

Looking up from where Kayama was texting him and calling him an idiot, Hizashi felt his heart skip half a dozen beats as his husband, starting to round the corner, turned to look back at him. When he saw Hizashi looking, he gave him another small smile and a little half-wave before he disappeared, and, yeah… 

Hizashi was so in love.

[scope-dogg]

Code Geass: Lelouch of the Rebellion: Final Thoughts (sponsored by Pizza Hut)

For the last few years I’ve been on a quest to become one of tumblr’s alpha nerds on the mecha genre of anime, and ever since I began, this has probably been one of, if not the biggest gaps in that ambition. Despite it being one of the most massively popular series that there is in the genre, I not only managed to put off watching it for years, but information and spoilers managed to somehow avoid me for all that time - I knew the names of various characters and was familiar with the more famous mecha designs, but ultimately the whole thing was pretty much a blank to me, and I wasn’t really sure what to expect. Well, now I’ve seen it, and I have a lot of conflicting thoughts on it.

I’m sure that everyone already knows the plot setup for this, but maybe you’re like how I was and are one of maybe a dozen people on earth who doesn’t, so here goes: in an alternate history version of the world, much of the planet is ruled over by the mighty Britannian Empire, who have most recently conquered Japan using their powerful military, which includes Knightmare Frames, a powerful new humanoid weapon. Japan is renamed Area 11, and its citizens are stripped of most of their rights. Lelouch Lamperouge is a Britannian student attending at an academy in the empire’s new territory, but he is hiding a great secret - he and his sister Nunnally are actually in line to the throne of Britannia, but are in hiding after their mother was murdered by forces unknown, and their father, Charles, the cruel emperor of Britannia, forced them into exile. Lelouch fosters dreams of one day taking revenge upon the corrupt empire that wronged him and his sister. One day, he gets wound up in an incident involving the Japanese resistance, and ends up encountering a mysterious woman who gives him a strange new power known only as Geass - he is able to give a command to any person he can look in the eyes, and they will be absolutely compelled to obey, no matter what. Lelouch thus sets out on his own personal war against Britannia, using anything that Geass and his wits can bring him while keeping his cover intact.

It’s a fairly complex setup, and it keeps getting more complicated. It’s hard to go in on criticising this show’s plot without going heavily into spoiler country, but I can at least tell you that I’m fond of the original setup. It’s this odd mix of Death Note and other mecha shows that go quite heavily into their world’s politics - for me, it managed to occasionally evoke comparison with Armored Trooper Votoms and Fang of the Sun Dougram, both excellent older series by Ryosuke Takahashi, which is some of the highest praise I can give. However, that rosy perception doesn’t really last all that long. This is a show that has a habit of piling up on interconnecting plot points, and things grow increasingly convoluted as the story progresses. This left me with mixed feelings - on the one hand, I love a complex story, and it never grows too complex to the point that you don’t know what’s going on, but at the same time I couldn’t help but feel that the show was losing focus at times and struggling to keep its tone consistent - and I think this is largely attributable to it trying to juggle too many concepts, characters and plot points at once. Eventually, things break down, and the show’s forced to manufacture a ridiculous contrivance to get back on track. Some of these events are just plain stupid - there’s one in particular towards the back end of the first season that’s utterly monumental in its absurdity. Normally that would be a dealbreaker for me, but somehow not this time - even if the plot wasn’t the most elegantly constructed at times, it was still oddly compelling - it had this odd knack of teasing you with the prospect of seeing you with what’s going to happen next. You feel compelled to watch even in spite of some of the more ridiculous events, or maybe even because of them. Describing the show’s plot as “good” or “bad” honestly doesn’t cut it here. It’s like a rollercoaster - there are high points, there are low points, but it’s a wild ride that’s oddly compelling going both ways. You kind of have to just let you go with the show’s flow and let it take you where it will, and just accept that there’s going to be at least a few moments where you’re going to roll your eyes at it. Even though some plot twists made me groan out loud, and there are a lot of things that I personally would have done differently, I ended up finishing the show, which is a full 50 episodes long, in only a few days - my usual pace for watching anime is a lot slower than that - obviously there was something about this that just made it hard to put down.

I think the show’s characters had a lot to do with that - there are a lot of larger-than-life personalities in the cast that can’t help but be memorable. Lelouch is an interesting protagonist - he’s got an iconic flair for the flamboyant, and is an extremely flawed character to the point where he’s somewhat of an anti-hero. Sometimes you want to root for him, but because of his negative qualities it can sometimes be satisfying when he’s handed an L by one of his adversaries. The most notable of those is Suzaku, his childhood friend who ends up becoming his fiercest rival by circumstance - whereas Lelouch is dishonest and a manipulator, Suzaku is sincere almost to a fault, and the rivalry that results across the series makes for some really strong dynamics. While the main cast is strong, even the secondary characters are unusually well-developed - pretty much everyone who shows up in the story continues to get screentime across the whole series. To a degree this is a detriment, because it contributes towards the crowded feeling of the plot I mentioned earlier, but I think that’s more than offset by the simple fact that it’s just good to have so many well-developed characters, and to have so many familiar faces to anchor yourself in the rush of events that take place.

The entire package is wrapped up by the presentation, which I think balances out to somewhere above average overall. The show’s artstyle, especially when it comes to Clamp’s characteristic stick-insect school of character design, is pretty well know at this point, and it’s one of those things that is what it is, like it or leave it. Personally I’m not a massive fan, but at this point I’ve seen it in other shows and I’m used to it. Some will probably like it, others might hate it, but at least it’s one of those things that you can just look at for yourself and make your own mind up. The other side that’s more interesting to me is mecha design, which on the whole I think is quite good. There are definitely standouts - (for me, the Guren with its massive claw and powerful radiation weapon was the leader of the pack) but there was nothing that I think looked bad. If I had a gripe, it’s the way in which the designs change over the course of the show - at the beginning, Knightmare Frames all follow the Votoms school of small, mobile ground-based units using wheels to move at high pace. This gradually gets superseded as more and more become capable of flight, and the ground battles give way to large-scale aerial battles with heavy amounts of beam spam. It’s not bad, but it’s less unique, and feels like something that could have come out of a multitude of different Gundam shows, though to compensate the looks of the various advanced KFs grow more elaborate and menacing.

I’m glad I finally watched it, but I’m not entirely sure that I’m that much better equipped to give a definitive recommendation one way or another. I’d frequently be at a point where I’d be enjoying the general flow of the plot, only to be annoyed and frustrated by a poorly-executed plot twist or an annoying high school comedy episode bringing about a jolting tone shift after a serious episode, only for a genuinely well-done plot point or compelling moment of character drama to almost immediately hook me back in. While I don’t regret the time I spent with it, I’m not sure I can just go ahead and give such an uneven experience an absolute thumbs-up, even though it’s definitely not a thumbs-down. Ultimately, I think this is a series that you have to just try for yourself and see what you think. Maybe you’ll bounce off one of the show’s more outlandish plot twists, or maybe you’ll see it through to the end - either way, it guaranteed to be a highly interesting ride for as long as it lasts.

[bigskydreaming]

So I’m writing a short story in my Changelings ‘verse for a galaxy brain commission that was simply “Boyd gets a boyfriend.” Nothing wrong there. But it does mean I feel like I finally gotta nail down the full intricacies of Boyd’s magic, which is unnecessarily....extra, due to the existence of the Curse of the Specialist Snowflake that afflicts me. 

Like, I couldn’t just give him one physical change and one magic like most other Changelings, nooooooo, he’s gotta be the Zodiac Kid and have twelve completely different changes and magics, one for each sign and he changes throughout the year in accordance to the changing of the signs. Why’d I do it that way? Cuz I gotta, obviously. Hahahaha, shut up, me.

I mean, there was a point to it originally, like, his sister Alicia’s Change and magic is that she’s surrounded by ghostly versions of a bunch of her alternate universe selves at any given moment, and she can communicate with them and call upon their skills and is sometimes called Sibyl around town, so like, the common thread/theme of her and Boyd’s magic is like, an infinity of self, but also, by “there was a point to it originally” I also just mean I couldn’t settle on and pick what I wanted Boyd’s magic to be so I was like here’s a fun thing I could do, make up a reason for him to have even MORE options.

.....I feel like, potentially, this self-created problem I’m having could have been avoided somehow, but gosh, fuck if I can see how.

So most of Boyd’s magic is hammered down....

In his Sagittarius phase, he’s physically a centaur whose lower half looks like a night sky studded through with starfields and moving constellations, and his magic from November 23rd to December 21st is uncanny intuition, a kind of off-the-top-of-his-head divination. He just instinctively knows the answers to questions when he’s in his Sagittarius phase, the more specific the question the more accurate his answer. He doesn’t have context, he doesn’t KNOW how he knows the things that he knows, he just knows them. 

You ask him if you’ll meet someone who could very plausibly be the love of your life within the next week, and if he says yes, its absolutely, one hundred percent true and accurate.....but if you ask him then how can I find them, he might say well first thing you gotta do is get out of my face and stop bugging me, and then walk down the street and turn left.....and that too, would be absolutely true and accurately point you in the direction that answers your question but like, that’s all he’s got and you’re missing a few steps at that point. So. Its not an exact science or anything. 

There’s definitely tricks to maximizing the intel you get out of him when he feels like being hit up for intel and doesn’t just string you along to be a total troll. Which he is. Hence why he also spends most of December filling in all of Alicia’s large stockpile of crosswords and sudokus, as he just instinctively and whimsically knows what to fill in even if he doesn’t actually have a clue WHY the Mesozoic Era is the answer to 49 Down. Alicia maintains this is cheating. He maintains he doesn’t care, and answers 64 across with “Johannesburg.” Fuck if he knows why.

In his Capricorn phase, he sublets his apartment in Bordertown and takes a month lease on a place underwater in Sub Francisco.....as for this period he’s more of a classical merman, but also if a classical merman has goat horns. But like, whose to say they don’t? Have you ever met one? Thought so. His magic during this period is horns of plenty.....he touches something to one of his horns, and comes away holding two of that item. So it basically only works on things that can be hand-held, but other than that it could be food, physical items, medicine, etc.

In his Aquarius phase, he’s physically the same as he was when a normal mainstream human....except that his skin has a faintly translucent quality as if that of water, with faint stars spiraling in distant patterns in the depths of his slightly watery form. He’s not invisible or actually translucent, like you can’t see through him or even see his organs or anything....rather, its more like most of the time he just looks like normal, human Boyd, albeit wearing a lot of glitter for some reason....but then he turns and catches the light just so, and for a moment you can see how the light is shining THROUGH him similar to the way it shines through the surface of a body of water. His magic in this phase is based on Ganymede, the cup-bearer of the gods.....water he touches becomes imbued with healing properties. 

Like, he unscrews an ordinary bottle of Evian and reaches in with the tip of his finger, and whammo, you’ve got a healing potion whose magic will last until the last of the water is gone, even if its not used until after his Aquarius phase. Once he’s imbued a source of water with his magic, its a healing potion from then on out, which makes his shop a useful place to find healing magic year-round.....or at least until he runs out. You come into his shop even in late July, if he’s still got some healing potions lying around they’re as good as ever....but if he’s already out of stock, you’re out of luck until next year’s Aquarius phase rolls around, and you gotta go look elsewhere on Mercy Row for a healer in the meanwhile.

In his Pisces phase, he goes back to his Sub Francisco apartment as his physical Change here is that of a centaur-triton....kinda the classic ithyocentaur, but also he’s got kinda webbed-like wings spanning from his back.....its a whole thing. But a good look. His magic in this phase is ‘the perfect pair’....he cups his hands and forms a magical, elemental construct in the shape of a koi fish that’ll swim off in the direction of the perfect complement to something or someone. Like a personal, magical compass guiding him or whomever he makes one for to like, the magnetic north that exists somewhere as the perfect counterpart to an already present south pole. Whatever, this makes no sense and is super confusing, I get that. But it makes perfect sense and is not confusing in my head. Still just working on translating from point Head to point Paper without the concept getting lost in the translation.

In his Aries phase, he’s his ‘normal’ mainstream-appearing base form....but also he’s got golden wings and ram horns. And his magic is that he breathes fire. But its magic fire, and it doesn’t burn things it touches, it turns them to gold. Its a whole Golden Fleece thing mixed with a King Midas thing.

In his Taurus phase.....idk yet. I mean, bull horns seems a pretty obvious go-to motif, but haven’t decided for his magic yet. Mostly because @sunwukxng is a Taurus and he takes things like this juuuuuuuust personal enough that I know if I don’t come up with something good here he’ll decide its a mortal insult towards all Tauri and thus him as well, and he’ll declare a blood feud against me that shall last five hundred years. And he’s already got like, six of those in progress, so....trying to avoid racking up anymore.

In his Gemini phase, he splits into two selves, his physical self and astral self, so he’s basically followed everywhere by both his shadow and a spirit version of himself he can astral project elsewhere. And when his astral self goes through something, kinda like how there’s that idea that when a ghost passes through someone they feel a chill or as if they almost left their body for a second.....his astral self can kinda like....yoink other peoples’ astral selves out of their physical forms temporarily. Yoink is of course the highly technical, scientific term for the phenomenon. Obviously.

In his Cancer phase.....idk yet. Look, its hard to be classy and deep concept-y about crabs, okay? I’m sorry Cancers, but even in the original myths about the constellation the gods were like yeah, this crab constellation was a mistake, we just felt bad about Artemis kicking that one all the way up into the heavens after it pinched Orion, the only himbo she ever almost made a boytoy out of. A lot of other Zodiacs featured animals that had the common perception of being viewed as pushing the sun across the sky, so there’s maybe something there in that direction....idk yet.

In his Leo phase, Boyd mostly appears as his ‘normal’ base mainstream-human looking self....except he’s big in a way that is not exactly Giant Big (and there are a good couple dozen giant-sized Changelings living in Bordertown, so like, he isn’t officially anywhere near that) but he is possessed of a height and size that are nevertheless best described as Ridiculous. Like he’s bigger than the Strange Angel, but not as big as Teddy the Sun-snake. That means nothing to anyone but me. Whatever. Moving on. Anyway, in his Leo phase he also has a fiery red mane kinda....that’s threaded through with silver stars in the Leo constellation shape. His magic in this phase is his ‘roar of command’....basically, he can imbue anything he says with the force of his will, and thus like.....make inanimate objects do what he tells them. He’s like “Open sesame” and a locked door is like you got it, boss.

In his Virgo phase.....I am not entirely sure what he looks like yet. I’m pretty sure its mostly his mainstream-looking ‘base self’ but like.....with an unnatural charisma, but also something a little less generic than that. Needs a specific hook still, beyond just “I’m ridick pretty.” Like, he’s Sinqua Walls. He’s always ridick pretty. Its a thing. But his magic in this phase is like.....an aura of inspiration. He just sorta puts out a vibe that inspires people around him in various ways that are unique to the individual. 

He’s also way shorter than he used to be even before his Change hit, or like, shorter than he is in any of his other phases. Like, we’re talking five and a half feet max. Is there any reason for this whatsoever beyond me being amused at the juxtaposition of him going from his Biggest and Most Ridiculous Phase immediately to his Smallest and Most Ridiculous Phase? No. No there is not. Fear the deep profundity of my creative process, for it is deep and it tis profound.

In his Libra phase....I’m not sure yet what his physical change is, but I do know his skin has a scaled texture, and I know those aren’t the scales normally associated with Libra but there’s a point to it, its just......missing some ingredients still to totally make sense. But he also tends to wear a blindfold a lot of the time during his Libra phase because I know his magic here has to do with viewing things in terms of overlapping possibilities and potentialities, like, he looks at things and sees not just the way they ARE but also a whole bunch of different ways they COULD be, and his magic enables him to kinda tweak things from the way they are more towards one of those other possibilities, in a sense that’s all about ‘balancing’ things.

However, the sensory stimuli of all those potentialities 24/7 is honestly overwhelming and gives him serious migraines, so he mostly tries to rest his eyes behind some kind of blindfold most of the time and just take it off to focus on specific things in order to utilize his magic, and only a little at a time. This is probably the most technically ‘powerful’ of his magics in terms of both versatility and scope, but it takes a toll and he really tries to pace himself during his Libra phase or it just gets to be too much, really fast.

And then lastly, in his Scorpio phase, he’s got a whole scorpion tail and barbed stingers along the outsides of his arms.....but rather than lean into the whole ‘eww Scorpios are duplicitous and manipulative’ and also ‘eww scorpions,’ his magic here calls back to how scorpions are actually protective guardians in a lot of mythologies and folklore, and there’s also plenty of Zodiac lore about the idea of the Scorpio sign being all about uncovering truths at any cost, etc. So his magic here is another ‘liquid/mutable’ type and takes the form of venom from his stingers that’s almost like drops of amber.....and that have various properties aimed at uncovering truths and exposing lies and falsehoods. Like, elixirs made during his Scorpio phase are another highly sought ware at his shop, because depending on the venom concentration he places in each, they have different properties. Like, he’s got vials where just a drop placed in your drink or on your food will reveal if its been drugged or poisoned, or vials of elixirs that basically act as magical truth serum.....and then other vials where like, you splash a little of it on something you suspect to be an illusion or a magical disguise of some kind, and it’ll dispel the false magic and reveal what’s truly there. 

“What happens if like, I splash it in the face of someone I think is wearing an illusion disguise and it turns out they’re not and that’s really just what they look like?” A customer asks.

Boyd shrugs. “Then they’ll just be wet. And probably a little pissed, I imagine. That’ll be $49.95 please.”

“I thought you said it was $29.95!”

“That was before the Asked Stupid Questions tax was applied,” Boyd smiles placidly. “Will that be cash or credit?”

 Okay. So. Typing that all out cleared up some of that for me but not quite as much as I was hoping as Cancer and Taurus apparently still persist in Vexing me.

Hmmmm.

[zydrateacademy]

First Impressions / Review - Cyberpunk 2077

I have some screenshots but they’re mostly photo mode and the occasional interface showing off my gear. So this review will be pic-less for now. I got Cyberpunk off of Stimulus money so as far as I’m concerned, the government paid for this game which does negate some of the problems I’d normally have for dropping 80$ or so on a preorder. Use that information how you will. First, I want to address some technical issues. In the sense that I don’t have very many. I have a 1050 GTX, an i5 processor, and 16GB of Ram. That’s about as complex as my knowledge goes on that. I’ve had a few glitches like Jackie ghosting through a closed door, some vans were clipped into the parking lot, and some NPC’s being stuck in furniture. A lot of ghosting around, really. The odd frame drop but nothing game breaking, and I haven’t had any crashes except one on startup, right after updating my drivers. Just the one in ~21 hours of gameplay. I play on High (but not ultra) settings. So all in all, not a bad experience. Everyone’s computer is a unique butterfly so while you will see a lot of yelling on various communities, some of us are trucking along several hour sessions at a time and not having a problem. Let’s do a quick dive into the story, and there may be some spoilers here but it’s mostly for Act 1, which is reachable just a couple hours depending on how quickly you want to unlock the whole city (as you’re locked to one region until you complete a major heist). 

You play as V, of any variety of gender identity you wish (though you are stuck with he or she pronouns). Basically a futuristic mercenary that does any kind of work available, kind of giving me some vibes from Burn Notice. Arms deals, stealing fans, VIP extraction, and so on. Of course, nothing goes as plan and you more or less lose your entire initial team after a heist goes wrong in every way possible. You’re witness to a world changing shift in a power structure and are forced to insert a chip with the ‘soul’ of Johnny Silverhand, an angry and incredibly bitter man who staged a bombing decades before V enters the game. This becomes the driving force of the game as you work to remove him safely from your body before he replaces you entirely - Something that not even he can stop, really. I’ve only had my toes dipped in Cyberpunk as a genre but it seems pretty standard fare. The concepts of “do cybernetics eat your soul’ and the various debate of how much human makes a human, all that. You’re put right there in center force as you grapple with these questions, even though our avatar as V is more concerned with just curing themselves like it was any other terminal disease. Even in-universe, the idea of a soul-preserving microchip is still a relatively new invention, though still in development enough to be advertised and talked about in news circuits. So let’s approach my first problem. It takes several hours for the game to essentially ‘wake up’. For a long time, you’re stuck in several conversations and interactable cutscenes with very little gameplay except taking advantage of V’s chosen origin in dialog. A couple of firefights here and there but the initial region locks you in and there’s only so many world encounters to just run into. The game more or less railroads you into completing Act 1 with some haste, because it also unlocks the ability to get more cybernetics and even some actual, full on mechanics. Within that railroading, you’re witness to so. Much. God. Damn. Talking. Mercifully you can press or hold “c” to skip through some things if you already understand the gist, but the first several hours of the game can very much feel like a very pretty walking simulator. Thankfully this kind of goes away after Act 1. You suddenly get called by a variety of Fixers that preside over various regions and they toss you dozens of side-jobs to do and so far, I find them to be delightfully varied. As a stealther, I found great joy in having a VIP escort quest with the optional objective of not sounding any alarms. So I went and bought myself a silencer and happily snuck around some gang mates boxing in the middle of a building, retrieved my guy, and escorted him outside while leaving several enemies alive. It was a great achievement. These side-gigs can be as complicated or straightforward as you please, giving me some Dues Ex vibes. The tutorial introduces you to hacking so you can distract and destroy your enemies how you see fit, and I have found that most encounters are designed with alternate routes to deal with enemies. Others are less clear. During one gig, I opened a door and the entire bar went ape on me, so I shot my way through and earned two stars from the police. Turned into a massive shootout that led to a dropbox that had gang members in it that also shot at me. Playing on Easy is a saving grace, but as someone who typically likes sneaking around games when the option is available, I wish the game made it more clear if I'm in a "suspicious" type zone. I also have no idea which NPC's are counted as potential enemies (the scan early in the story tells you if they're in a gang or not), as perfectly normal NPC's in the aforementioned bar just began unloading on me. It was wild, and I survived and got paid but the mission giver telling me it was sloppy work. Thanks, lady. Another time I opened a gate and trained my silenced pistol on the guard only for her to slightly sidestep as the gate opening “alerted” her. So I missed the shot, she opened fire, and the entire structure came out to play. It was an intense gunfight in which I was victorious, but it felt hollow as my silenced approach just botched the entire encounter. It was difficult for me to figure out what the game’s general “loop” is. So far it gives me the Ubisoft vibe of “hit everything you run into”. I do like the idea of V being something of a vigilante, as random police encounters pretty much allow you to intervene and gun down gang members without them bothering you about it. I must admit, however, I wish there was more to actually DO in the game. So far it’s mostly just side-gig after side-gig. Escort guy here, steal a van there, eliminate all enemies here. Though again, I said before that some of this can be quite enjoyable under the right circumstances. Maddening in others. In a way, this is kind of the Rage 2 problem all over again, in the sense that people loved the general gunplay but there wasn’t actually a lot of gameplay beyond the decent combat mechanics. Cyberpunk 2077 is certainly no GTA5, but I hope some day it can become that with DLC’s that add actual activities.

A couple of quick asides. I despise the driving, as most vehicles seem to want to spin out very easily if you hold the turning key for a second too long. In some fashion, it forces you to drive like an actual sane person and mowing down civilians (even accidentally) adds a GTA-esque wanted level though it seems stupidly easy to avoid. Narratively, it makes sense as the authorities in this universe are incredibly corrupt and it basically amounts to “eh, they’re too far now, let’s not waste resources”. So, fair enough. Still, I hope to GOD there’s no mandatory story-based racing. Games have screwed me on that before, and I have not beaten most GTA games because of that. Secondly, I don’t think the origin choice does a lot. You get different dialog choices and being a Corpo did lead to one interesting turn when you just ‘knew’ a credit chip had a virus on it. So there is that, but ultimately the rest of the dialog is identical. You could chalk this up to V spending six months with Jackie and he, more or less, lets your V really swim in Night City culture but honestly ALL V choices feel like they’ve become the same person. I was originally a Corpo but it just feels like her past and culture didn’t seep in through most of the dialog. At the end of the day, V is always just some mercenary punk. The world is gorgeous, albeit not as alive as it may have been advertised in promotions. Random civilians just have canned dialog, a lot of it rude. However I’ve been hard pressed to find doubles or clones of anyone just walking around, but that may change once I get into the hundreds of hour counts. It’s a very pretty game and despite some of my qualms, I am enjoying the experience. There’s a photo mode which is wonderful to utilize when you run into an environment that just captures the imagination. I took a screenshot of Jackie’s wall of pinups, including a typical slutty nun but as per the universe, her chest filled with beautifully placed cybernetics. It was just fun to see, and there’s a lot of semi-subtle world building like that that I just adore.

The game has issues. However, if you wanted a slightly scaled back idea of GTA5 with a different aesthetic, this is not at all a bad choice. However I will not blame anyone if they wait for the “GOTY” editions to come out. And on sale.

[badgersighted]

PS5 Game Reveal Thoughts

Below the cut I’m gonna write a brief paragraph or sentence or whatever about each of the 25ish games that were revealed last night at the PS5 thing.

Don’t have much to say about this one; I never played GTAV, the series has never really been my thing, but I think it came out in 2013ish? I think the time has been and gone for re-releases and they should be working on the next game. Too much more and this’ll quickly become the new Skyrim/Todd Howard meme.

Okay so I never played Spiderman, but I did watch the cutscenes because I never thought I’d go out and buy it (before I later got it free with a ps4 pro). This is one of those games where, like, I’m not invested but I can both see the appeal and am happy for those who were waiting on it.

I think there’s diminishing returns on realistic racing games. Stuff was coming out on current gen that looked near enough realistic, so it gets excessively hard to tell the difference.

The first one that caught my eye. Despite the last entry being a bastardized, hollow remake that encapsulated everything the original stood against while missing two thirds of the content, R&C has a place in my heart and I hope they can actually get back to standard now they don’t have to work around a terrible movie.

My hot take here is that Ratchet has a wrench and his name is Ratchet. Girl Ratchet has a hammer, ergo her name is Chisel or something. I just wonder if this is a look at the future and Ratchet’s kid, or if it’s an alternate, gender-flipped dimension. In which case Clank would probably be the same because he’s a robot, but I fear for the possibility of Captain Qwark.

Legitimately can’t remember a gosh darned thing about this one. 

I feel like the trailer proved that Stray works better as a short film than a game, but I guess we never saw any gameplay to prove that assumption. I like the art direction and you get to be a little kitty cat.

Ellen Degeneres goes to space and the mind fucky wucky happens. I got some Prometheus vibes for this, but the only thing that really left a mark was the aforementioned Ellen jokes we were making on discord.

Fuckin love me some Littlebigplanet, so this was a welcome surprise. Odd to see that they’re not implementing a create mode (as far as we know) but I can see how impossible it is to both make a fully 3d create mode (see: LittleBigPlanetKarting) and also go up against Dreams which was made by Sackboy’s original home studio.

I have a soft spot for LittleBigPlanet’s story modes, though, especially the second game’s - so this will be a welcome addition for me. I just hope they reference the previous stories and don’t act like a plot is something new to the series.

This game feels born out of the hangover of games like Fortnite and Apex Legends, leaving it feeling at least one year outdated. But if it’s your sort of thing, more power to you.

So Kena was another of the more subdued, new IPs that I think a lot of people will have forgotten but I actually quite liked the look of it, or at least some aspects. I’ll always have a soft spot for ‘young girl with bow and arrow’ games but I also liked the art direction and the little puff ball fellas, as well as the bad guy seeming like a legitimate threat in a world that tricks you into thinking it’s all cute. The contrast serves the narrative in that regard.

So following a game I’m interested in is a game I could not be less interested in. Horrendous character design, pseudo-deep narrative that are a dime a dozen for indie tumblr bait visual novels. The logo and the fact they’re [barely recognisable as] dinosaurs presumably suggests this will end in a meteor destroying everything and, frankly, I have never rooted for an inanimate rock more in my life.

This 2d platformer took itself very seriously. I never understood Oddworld nor saw the appeal because its protagonist is very... not nice to look at. But more power to those who wanted a new Oddworld game.

I found this one kind of interesting, then the First Person gameplay kicked in and that very quickly faded. It’s a shame, really; the visuals were really good.

All I got from this is that it’s called Jeff, and it’s a low concept blend of the movie Gravity and Katamari. It’s one of those deep, arty games I’m just honestly too dumb to appreciate. Or maybe it’s false depth.

This is a weird one. I find it intriguing how a game can have so much going on on-screen, and yet none of it stand out. It really does feel like this game pulled inspiration from several places, but failed to embellish or add any value on top of it.

This is another one of those arty games I’m too thick to understand. I’d say it has slight hints of Journey in it, but I never played that so I can’t be certain.

Hitman reminds me of the Community Paul Rudd quote: “I see the appeal, and I wouldn’t take it away from anyone, but I’d also never stand in line for it.”

As much as a corporate Mario Odyssey knockoff as this game may seem, I’m honestly interested as I’m gagging for any Odyssey-adjacent content in my life. It looks like it could be mindless fun, at the very least.

Like JEFF and Solar Ash before it, I don’t know what this game is and I don’t think the trailer did enough to make me want to bother finding out. I liked the big cat dude, though.

Would the world suffer if it didn’t have the same set of games reskinned and rereleased each year, with a single number in the title changed? I never understood the appeal of sportsball games. Is it for the people too unhealthy or too lazy to actually play a sport? Why do they have to make one every year when there’s nothing new? It’s not like the sport has fundamentally changed in a year’s time.

So they had me in the first half expecting a Crash game reveal, I’ll be honest. 

But this is, oddly enough, the game I find most interesting of everything we saw here. I have no idea what the fuck it is, but I’m determined to believe there’s hidden meaning - that it’s a satire on Pokemon, that it’s a commentary on the phrase ‘you are what you eat’, that it’s a game that lulls you into a false sense of security and drops you in a horror game like Doki Doki Literature Club. Prove me right, Bugsnax.

I never played the original Demon’s Souls, so I can’t say much on the remake. I don’t even know if Demon’s Souls and Dark Souls are part of the same series.

Are we going to ignore that, fundamentally, this game’s unique selling point is that it has checkpoints?

Full transparency here, I had this game pegged as a Resident Evil game as soon as there was an old man in the trailer, and I’ve never played a Resident Evil game. I just associate old men in video games with horror, and Resident Evil is one of the first horror games that come to mind.

Looks like someone saw Death Stranding and thought “I can do that, too!” 

Yeah, well, you can’t.

Given the hype I saw surrounding this game, I feel like I should probably play the first one. I’m just concerned it might not be my sort of thing. It’s one of those things I want to like, but I’m not sure I want to put my money where my mouth is before being sure - so we’re stuck in stalemate. 

[femmescripter]

Mama's Big Boy - A Rise of the TMNT AU ft. Venus de Milo

This AU was originally thought up by @ninja-cake-bicht. And as such the following story was inspired by their genius. Meanwhile my friend @leeleearts simply adores the Jonatello pairing. So I thought; "Why not do both?". Which is what I did! Before I tell the mini story, let me explain a few things.

First and foremost in this alternate universe Donnie was adopted by Big Mama. The origins of which I'll cover very soon in the story. Now don't worry - the heroes in green aren't a member short. They are still a quad squad because Venus de Milo, who's headcanon voice actress is Victoria Justice, takes center stage! The species of turtle I picked for her is the diamondback terrapin. I felt that this species best suited Venus's aesthetic and over all look. Lastly Casey is depicted as a Latino American as I have depicted him in my other Jonatello stories.

Now that we have those details stated for the record, on with the backstory of the Mama’s Big Boy AU~

🐢💜🕷

In the underground mystic city just beneath New York City, everyone knows who Big Mama is. A Jorōgumo yokai who is a generous matriarch to her citizens. She is also very glamorous in appearance despite her undisclosed, and “frankly none of your bloody damn business” as she says, age. Of course this mother to her people is no pushover. Should you break her number rule or threaten her people you can expert to get quite the deadly spanking from Big Mama. But even with all of her power, wealth and esteem there was one thing the spider yokai wanted most that she didn’t have…a child.

You see while it is her name, or at least an alias she uses in place of her real name, Big Mama isn’t a literal mother. She is sadly unable to have children due to a run in with her old enemy Baron Draxum, a mutant yokai scientist who constantly tries to usurp her rule, that left her wounded internally. While she survived it all but destroyed her uterus. And for such a family oriented person like Big Mama she may as well have died. This meant that she would never have the one thing she always hoped to have. Never have that precious little bundle snuggled up in her arms. And to lose that gift made her hate Draxum even more. For a long time Big Mama only put on a brave face for her people while she cried tears over her personal loss alone.

Then one day she decided to pull herself out of this rut. How? By getting a pet. However she didn’t pick just any animal to be her critter companion. Being a woman of unique tastes Big Mama got an animal that likely not many women would consider having. It was a male soft shell turtle. She named him Donovan but often called him by the loving nicknames of “Donnie” or “Big D”. She had adopted Donnie when he was just a baby soft shell, and after he turned four years old Big Mama got a rather big idea; she could turn Donovan into the child she always wanted. And that’s exactly what she did. Utilizing her powerful yokai magic Big Mama transformed the normal little turtle into a not so normal bipedal mutant turtle. The changed soft shell turtle, who Big Mama noticed had gained very thick sable black haired eyebrows after the transformation, blinked his eyes a few times as he adjusted to his new form. Big Mama then walked over to Donnie, knelt before him as a mother would her child and greeted him.

“Hello, my little silk thread. Do you know who you are? Do you know…who I am?” Big Mama asked carefully, afraid of what the kind of answer she would get.

Without hesitation the little mutant boy spoke up.

“Sure. I’m Donnie, and you’re my mama.” Donnie replied in a cute voice with a smile.

After that any prior feelings of fear or sorrow the Jorōgumo had were thrown out the window. And they were replaced with feelings of elation and motherly love. She hugged Donnie like he was the life line she was seeking out for so long and sobbed happy tears. That became the start of a new life for the both of them.

But, this wasn’t the only new life that began. At the same time someone else going through a new life change under different circumstances. Up on the surface of New York a man named Chung I, a retired shinobi master who lives in the Chinatown District and spends his days running an artisan store he owns, was going about his usual business. He had just left the local market after buying food for his dinner. Chung hummed a little tune to himself as he walked down his usual street, but noticed that up ahead the neighborhood on again off again couple were having yet another public and heated argument. Not wanting to get in the middle of things Chung cut down into an alley that was a short cut to his house. And doing this actually turned out to be a blessing. Not for him…but for someone else.

As he was in the stretch to getting to his abode Chung heard something. A sound, specifically crying. Not from an animal but from a little child. This did not surprise the retired master because, sadly, orphaned or abandoned children are a dime a dozen in New York. So honing his keen ears he listened for where the crying was coming from. Eventually it led him to a bunch of potted plants left out behind the florist shop because they were wilting. Chung peeked behind the dying flora and started to ask the crying child what was wrong. But his question was caught in his throat when he saw just who, or rather what, the child was.

It was…a humanoid turtle child that appeared to be no older than age six. They had chartreuse green skin and, by the look of it’s shell pattern and coloring, the child was of the diamondback species. As Chung examined the child he saw that they had cuts and bruises all over their legs and arms. Some were old and some appeared fresh, caused by both animals and people. Chung said nothing at first as he watched the child cry for a moment more. Then he finally spoke up and the diamondback terrapin whipped it’s head around to face him. This motion allowed Chung to see that the child also had freckles on their cheeks and as well as more injury marks. At first the child backed away in fear, grabbing a piece of old wood to hold up as a makeshift weapon in their defense. The child nervously told the retired master to go away, and by the sound of the voice Chung could now tell the child was a girl. Though he was shocked by the fact that the humanoid turtle could speak he wasn’t afraid. Regardless of her odd appearance this was still a child. And Chung could not simply leave her alone. So, with a kind smile he spoke to her.

“What is your name, small one?” Chung asked. For a while she didn’t speak to him until she finally did.

“I…I d-don’t have a n-name.” The girl turtle replied with a nervous stutter.

“Hm. Well, we’ll just have to change that won’t we? But first I’ll tend to your wounds and give you a nice meal. It’s just as well, too, since I always hate to eat alone.” Chung said.

“…Do you m-mean that?” The girl turtle asked with less of a stutter, lowering the piece of wood she was holding as she gazed at the human man in surprise.

“Of course. Even when retired, a shinobi helps those in need small one. And I want to help you. If you’ll let me at least.” Chung said with a sincere tone and a smile to match.

The diamondback terrapin said nothing. She just continued to stare at Chung. But then she tossed the piece of wood and rose up to her feet. Then she ran straight at Chung…and hugged onto his waist. She began to cry again but not with the same sadness. This was more a cry of relief. Chung smiled down at the child and patted her head then led her back to his home. They ate a hardy dinner together, and the girl turtle seemed to really love the plum sauce. She also appeared to be quite energetic. Given that Chung was able to come up with a name for her - Mei Pieh Chi. “Mei” for plum, “Pieh” for turtle and “Chi” for energy.

The turtle girl seemed to like that name and stuck with it. Then as Chung began to teach her new things, including various artworks, Mei learned about a particular famous sculpture of a woman with no arms. Immediately gaining a great fascination with the statue she adopted the nickname Venus de Milo, which eventually became her new preferred name. Chung had asked Venus where she came from to which the girl replied that she lost her memories of whatever prior life she had. But that was okay since it meant that she and Chung could make new, happy memories as father and daughter. A year into the forming of their unusual yet loving little family Chung took his daughter to Manhattan and introduced Venus to an old friend of his and his three sons.

This friend was a rat mutant named Splinter, and his sons were actually mutant turtles much like Venus. There was the oldest snapping turtle brother Raph, the red eared slider second oldest named Leo and the box turtle youngest boy named Mikey. The girl turtle was thrilled to not only have new friends she could talk to but also ones of her own kind, even if they were sub-species. The turtle brothers likewise took an immediate liking to Venus and declared her as their cousin. And as another year went by they gained a new human friend named April O’Neil. So while Venus’s life didn’t start out the best way, and much of her life is still a mystery, she’s very happy with how things turned out all the same. Though her home is the Chinatown District with her father she often goes to stay in the Lair within the sewers of Manhattan that her cousins call home.

(So now you all know how Big Mama came to adopt Donnie and how Venus is introduced into the mix. I hope that you especially enjoyed that, @ninja-cake-bicht. But it doesn’t end there. Oh no. For now we get into the origins of how the heroes in green meet Big D/Donnie in my alternate. And also of course how Casey is introduced which will involve some Jonatello goodness. This part goes out to you, @leeleearts ~)

🐢💜☠

Over the next several years, Donnie grew under the tutelage of his beloved parental figure Big Mama. She taught her boy everything she new from how to handle a business to how to fight and of course how to properly maintain one’s appearance. But of all the talents Donnie picked up his real specialty had to do with technology. Turns out Big Mama’s big boy was very intelligent and could take bits of scrap and turn it into advanced futuristic like tech. Big Mama was very proud of her son even though his evil genius tendencies concerned her a little. Donnie’s skills with machinery and computers also helped her own business advance on a grand scale, allowing her to run a more modernized city. This came in handy whenever emergency situations came up - like the one they were having right now. Three days ago Big Mama sent one of her lesser yokai spies, a Fu Dog yokai who had no name, to see what Baron Draxum was up to. Though young and new to the business the little yokai was quick on his feet and had the power to teleport. But the little yokai had yet to report back in the past day and a half.

Big Mama had a very bad feeling that Draxum or one of his lackeys were responsible. Using her magic Big Mama tried her best to locate where the small yokai may be. And to her shock he wasn’t even in the underground city…he was up on the surface in Manhattan, New York. While she could go up there and investigate she had to maintain leadership down here. So Donnie offered to venture up top and find the Fu Dog yokai himself. Naturally the spider yokai was a bit hesitant with allowing her son to go on a potentially dangerous mission. Especially since he’s only been up on the surface a few times. But after Donnie had assured his mother that he would be fine and stay in contact with her the Jorōgumo was finally convinced. And so, using the magic crystal embedded in his high tech goggles Donnie changed his form from turtle mutant to the look of a regular human teenage boy. Though Donnie was more partial to tech than magic he never the less learned some magic spells. In particular the spell of shapeshifting so that he could venture to the surface world undetected. After giving a parting hug to his mother Donnie went on his way.

Meanwhile, as the small yokai was being chased by Baron Draxum’s disguised goons, an actual human teenage boy was talking on the phone with a friend on the opposite side of town. The name of this fifteen year old boy is Amador Basilio “Casey” Jones, a friend of April’s back at her school and aspiring hockey player. April has been trying to officially introduce Casey to the turtles but all previous plans either got interrupted or something came up on Casey’s end which made him unable to meet April’s “other mystery buddies”. But tonight she was determined to have them meet. Which was actually what they were talking about on the phone. April told Casey to come over by Rucker Park in order to properly meet her friends and the Latino teen luckily had no other plans so he agreed. After setting a time Casey hung up and decided to stop for a slice of pizza before he headed to the park. He went to a local pizza shop that sold individual slices and intended to order his usual - black olives with grilled chicken and extra red pepper flakes.

Then as the chef turned in Casey’s direction and asked what he wanted, he was surprised when someone else echoed his order. Casey whipped his head around to the left to see who had made that same order. And when he saw who it was he was left speechless. It was a tall Native American teenage boy around his age with mocha tan skin, shoulder length sable black hair with a silver streak that was in an undercut style and had a few braids in it, very well groomed eyebrows, freckles going across the bridge of his nose, a swimmer’s physique and sunglasses with one lens that was colored red and the other lens tinted blue. He also had a rather unique clothing style, which seemed to be business casual mixed with techno punk, that was predominately purple in color. But whether it was his appearance or his looks Casey knew one thing for certain…he was struck with a case of the Crush Bug. After the teens stared at each other for a moment more the handsome boy spoke.

“Hi there.” Said the teen, snapping Casey out his stupor enough to reply.

“Uh, hey. So…you like pizza too?” Casey asked and mentally scolded himself for giving such a lame greeting while asking an equally lame question.

Fortunately the handsome boy wasn’t put off and actually chuckled a bit before responding yes. So together the teens got their similar pizza slice orders and headed outside, eating their slices as they sat at the patio table in front of the restaurant. As they chatted Casey found out that the mystery teen was named Donnie, who said that he arrived from downtown where he lived to look for his missing pet. And that after a while of fruitless results he stopped here to get a slice of pizza. Casey understood and after the two finished eating he offered to help Donnie look for his pet for a while before he had to go to Rucker Park. The handsome teen considered the offer for a moment before agreeing. And so they left the pizza shop and went down the next alley together. Little did they know that their encounter would lead to something much greater.

Later that night Raph, Venus, Leo and Mikey all partake in their weekly Cannonball Night in which they leap off a massively large building and make a literal splash in the rooftop pool. Their friend April of course snapped pictures of their epic dive and afterwards told the foursome that they will at last get to meet her friend Casey. Excited by this the group immediately head over to Rucker Park, with April getting a lift on Venus’s back as she uses her Zhiyuan/kite that her human father crafted for her to fly, but Raph stops mid leap to the next rooftop when he notices something. An unusual looking yet very cute dog like creature, shivering with fright. Naturally he goes over with the other turtles and April to investigate. But they’re not the only ones who come onto the scene…

A few moments before Raph spotted the spy yokai, Donnie was calling out to the creature by using a code phrase that it would know. He allowed Casey to help since he figured he had nothing else to lose. And it’s not like he would be around long to see exactly what his “pet” actually looked like since he said he was going to meet friends at Rucker Park. Even still Donnie kept asking himself why he allowed the human to help in the first place. Maybe he thought it was logical to get help. Or maybe he wanted some company for a short while. Or maybe…he found the human so cute he wanted to enjoy as much time as they could get. Immediately after that thought hit him though Donnie shook his head violently to knock it out.

“No, focus Donovan! Mom sent you on an important mission. You don’t have time to think about boys. No matter how cute, funny and fascinatingly edgy they are…Gaaaaggh!! Stop that!!” Donnie mentally yelled to himself.

He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn’t realize Casey was talking to him until he felt a tap on his shoulder. The disguised mutant turned to the real human who said that he may have found his pet, and pointed beyond an opening in the fence that went right into a construction site. Donnie looked through the opening and saw the familiar backside of the yokai. Elated to see that he was alright Donnie immediately ran through the opening to go and get him, and Casey ran after him.

This led the pair to encounter not only April holding the little yokai…but the other mutant turtles. At first Leo, Raph and Mikey tried to act like they were humans in costumes, Casey was stunned and April was trying to awkwardly explain that these were the friends she’s been trying to introduce him to. However the only ones who remained calm were Venus and Donnie. In fact they were more curious then surprised by one another. Venus said to Donnie that while he looked human his aura did not have an average mortal essence. Donnie grinned, impressed at the diamondback’s perceptiveness and confirmed that she was right - he wasn’t actually human. Casey asked what Donnie meant and before he could answer the disguised goons of Baron Draxum show up. They reveal their true forms and battle Mikey, Venus, Raph and Leo which results in the turtle brothers’ weapons getting destroyed. Luckily Venus’s own ch’i infused Emeici/Emei Daggers survive the fight. Donnie tries to fight them himself along with Casey’s help but they end up knocked to the side. The goons then grab the little yokai and take him along with April, plus an oblivious Chinese food delivery guy, right through a magic portal!

Raph, Venus, Leo and Mikey regroup along with Casey and Donnie and explain to the human who and what they are. Afterwards everyone turns to Donnie to ask who and he really is. Seeing that there’s no point in hiding it now the disguised mutant dispels his human form and reveals himself to be a mutant soft shell turtle. Raph, Venus, Leo and Mikey are left shell shocked(pun intended, and I nailed it) while Casey is left even more love struck than he was before. Donnie goes on to explain some of his backstory and that Big Mama sent him to find the little yokai that was taken along with April. And now he wants to help them save them both.

Agreeing to this the five turtles and single human first try to figure out how to open the magic portal again. Donnie would do it but he has yet to learn how to use such powerful magic. As luck would have it they actually do have a way to open it - by using an old Japanese compass like artifact that the father of the turtle brothers Splinter possesses. Fortunately Leo manages to grab it without incident after giving him a bit of milk and cake.

The moment the portal opens the group of six go down and behold the glorious magic city that Donnie calls home. Even better they run into April, who is then formally introduced to the soft shell. When asked what became of the Fu Dog yokai April points to a castle which Donnie glares hard at, saying it belongs to the enemy of his mother - Baron Draxum. They stealthily sneak in and watch as the mutant yokai takes a vial filled with some type of ooze from the little yokai and uses it to fill up a giant hoard of mosquito like creatures. They continue to watch as Draxum takes one of the insect like beings and has it sting the food delivery guy and inject him with the ooze. The young man goes through a painful transformation from human to a fish like mutant. Baron Draxum praises himself at the success of his experiment then tells the Fu Dog yokai that he will deal with him next. Donnie and April refuse to let that happen, but only the former and Venus have weapons while the brothers are without any. Luckily for them though April managed to find an armory filled with them. This leads to Leo getting an Ōdachi sword, Mikey getting a Kusari-fundo and Raph getting a pair of tonfa. Venus isn’t interested in a mystical weapon herself, though she does take a sack of magic powder that catches her eye.

Armed with new weapons Raph and his brothers lead the way to take on Baron Draxum. Thus begins a battle royale with the five turtles going up against a giant mutant while Casey and April fight Draxum’s two gargoyles Huggin and Muninn. Though it’s a hard fight the turtles manage to take down the giant mutant, albeit on a somewhat accidental level, while April and Casey finally beat the gargoyle duo. And thus the group ends up fighting Draxum. The scientist makes short work of April and Casey by cocooning them in some kind of organic material, leaving only the turtles left. Unfortunately though Mikey, Leo and Raph have a hard time getting the hang of their new weapons and Venus tries to help each of them out. This leaves Donnie to face his mother’s enemy on his own. And after taking a close look at the soft shell mutant Draxum’s face takes on a new expression. One of contempt mixed with mild awe.

“So, you are that pestilent arachnid’s mutant son she turned from a pet turtle. I believe you go by the name Donovan?” Draxum asked with an eyebrow raised in mock curiousness as he and Donnie slowly circled each other.

“That’s Big D to you, Draxum. And my mother is no pestilence. She’s approximately seventy seven times the ruler you could ever aspire to be. And she’s not as cruel as you are to actually mutate a whole city.” Donnie stated with a glare as he twirled his staff.

“Not cruel, young turtle. I am changing this world into a utopia for all mutants. I am helping the humans unleash their true selves. And once this entire state is mutated I will move on to the next state, and then the state after that. Soon all the world will be filled with beings like you and I. A great feat that I will be praised for accomplishing.” Draxum explained.

“Over your dead body, you sorry Satyr ripoff. I’m going to stop you.” Said the teenage mutant with a challenging snap in his voice.

“Ha! Please, don’t make me laugh. As you can clearly see your friends can barely stop themselves.” Draxum said, gesturing to the turtles were still struggling the foul-ups of their respective weapons. “What makes you think that you will perform any better, son of the web?”

“Well our fighting styles, for one thing. Though I find nothing wrong with magic I prefer to fight the old fashioned way. With impossibly futuristic high tech weaponry!” Donnie exclaimed and then proceeded to attack the self-proclaimed baron.

The two had a very intense fight, and Donnie nearly had Draxum on the ropes. Unfortunately Mikey and his out of control Kusari-fundo bumped into him, then into Venus and they all ended up tumbling about. Draxum then trapped them, Leo and Raph in the same cocooning material. But just before he could do anything more Donnie pointed out that Draxum’s containment machine with all of his Oozequitoes was at critical mass and about to blow up. Sure enough the big machine began to break apart, with one piece of structure falling on Draxum. Luckily this freed the Fu Dog yokai who was able to teleport everyone to safety. And while they ended up breaking Splinter’s artifact they none the less defeated their enemy, at least for the moment. But not all is good as the Oozequitoes managed to slink into the surface world just before the portal closed up. Donnie groans at this and finally calls Big Mama to report the good news and the bad news of the situation. Naturally she is concerned and intrigued about the Oozequitoes but she’s more happy that Donnie and the little yokai, which April just named Mayhem, are safe. Mayhem then asks Big Mama if he could stay with April since he’s taken a shine to her. Surprised by this but not opposed the spider yokai agrees so long as Mayhem gives regular reports on how things are going.

Donnie then makes something of a similar request, asking if he can visit the surface every once in a while to help out his fellow turtle mutants and their friends. But while Donnie says that Big Mama notices her son’s eyes settle on one person in particular - Casey Jones. And sure enough she can see through the screen of the magic communicator that the human boy has his eyes settled on Donnie. Giving a knowing grin Big Mama gives her son permission to help the turtles and humans. She also slips in this little bit of motherly wisdom…

“Just remember, my little silk thread, when you ‘help’ your new male human friend no kissing unless you’ve had at least three dates.” Big Mama said with absolutely no shame.

“Oh my vanilla wafers, MOM!!” Donnie exclaimed in embarrassment with a blush on his face while the turtles and April giggled and Casey had a smaller, yet still noticeable blush on his face and a goofy smile to boot.

Big Mama then has a portal open at Donnie’s location and he bids his fellow turtles and the humans farewell. At least for now. But before he goes Casey gives him something…his cellphone number. Donnie smiles brightly and says he’ll call him tomorrow. And of course Casey gets no end of teasing praise from the turtles and April. Likewise the soft shell cannot escape his mother’s gushing over her big boy’s first ever crush.

All in all though, it was a fun night out. And it would be the starting point of many adventures to come for the mutant turtles and humans.

Whew! Gol-ly that took way longer than I expected it to. But never the less I was happy to finish it. And I hope that you all enjoyed reading it. Please let me know what you think of the origin story I made for Venus as well as how I depict Donnie’s change of origins in this, the Big Boy AU. And of course don’t forget to thank @ninja-cake-bicht for coming up with this headcanon! Also be sure to check out the illustrations of @leeleearts because she’s really good at what she does. Also I want to provide three extra bits of confirmation. One, when Mayhem was speaking to Big Mama he wasn’t speaking in an English language. He was speaking in his native yokai tongue which only Donnie and Big Mama can understand. Second, Venus uses the sack of magic powder she took from Baron Draxum’s armory to create all sorts of ninja smoke bombs with varying effects from granting temporary invisibility to paralyzing enemies for a short while. However the smoke bombs have a tendency to backfire on them. And third, acting as the voice actor of Chung I is Jackie Chan. Just thought I should tell you all in case you were curious.

That’s all I got to share folks. Until next time, toodles~!

[thebandcampdiaries]

Nils Wandrey is back on the scene with a brand new studio track: Become Who I Am

February 2021 - Nils Wandrey is a talented artist and songwriter with a focus on creating mesmerizing, yet punchy original music that blurs the lines between a wide range of styles. His sound captures the intensity of alternative rock, but it also feels like a great combination of melodies and personal lyrics, giving the audience a more charismatic listening experience as a whole.

Recently, the artist announced the upcoming release of a brand new single, which is titled “Become Who I Am.” The song immediately hooked me with an amazing production value. The sound is crisp and present, leading the audience to immediately feel at home, given the immersive listening experience. The track kicks off with some beautifully punchy guitar riffs. The style of this performance actually reminds me of music industry legends such as Tom Petty and The Heartbreakers (especially the guitar riff, which kind of reminds me of classic songs such as You Wreck Me or American Girl, although with a more modern feel to it. Nils has a really punchy and present vocal quality. He sounds very upfront and bright, but never harsh, which is something that makes his sound really stand out. The quality of his mix on this song is really awesome, and the vocals cut through all of the other layers without ever being overpowered,

and also without ever overpowering anything else. In addition to that, Nils stand out because his lyrics are incredibly personal and easy to relate to, making for a truly unique and one-of-a-kind combination of energetic rock and roll aesthetics and forward-thinking emotional release. He knows how to make the most out of every line, and his words are so incredibly down-to-earth and easy to relate to. It’s almost like listening to an old friend tell you a story from his life. You can really relate to every word, and the sound is so familiar, but also so exciting and innovative. I really love the personal and self-affirming message of this song, and I find that it can be particularly inspiring, particularly because the track is not pretentious at all. This is the classic example of a song that has a nice “less is more” attitude that truly works wonders in the process of creating a fantastic listening experience without getting too bogged down in production details. Some rock acts tend to layer dozens of guitar tracks and really make their sound a bit too manufactured. However, this is definitely not the case here, as Nils managed to keep the song as honest and simple as it gets. It’s really all about a person pouring his heart out, making for a one-of-kind musical skill.

I love it when rock music is made with passion and vision, and this definitely appears to be the case here, as Nils Wandrey has got so much to offer with his sounds. We can’t wait to hear what’s next for this amazingly talented artist, because if this song is any indication, we are surely going to be in for something quite special going forward! This release could mark the start of a very prolific 2021 for an artist that, in my opinion, has everything it takes to stand out from the heard and truly take his music to a higher level.

Ultimately, I would high recommend listening to this release if you are a fan of artists such as Green Day, Dead Rituals, or Linkin Park, only to mention but a few. What makes “Become Who I Am” so special is the fact that the song is very melodic, but also deeply personal, revealing multiple layers to Nils and his songwriting. Some of the best music out there is the one that can immediately make an instant connection with the audience, and this definitely seems to be the case here.

Find out more about Nils Wandrey, and do not miss out on “Become Who I Am.” This song is going to be available on February 19th, 2021.

https://nilswandrey.com/

https://www.instagram.com/nilswandrey/

https://twitter.com/nilswandrey

https://www.facebook.com/NilsWandreyMusic

https://open.spotify.com/album/3IoPLqFvAZdrXzvHIBHMCo?si=ThG_vd8tQCyjlTCDcb_Tbg

https://youtu.be/Cnnn0lrfnaA

[schraubd]

David's Personal Top Ten Video Games

This is something I've been wanting to do for a long time. It is a personal list, reflecting the games that have stuck with me the most over the years. I'm not enough of a gamer to claim it is anything comprehensive, and it has a strong bias to the sorts of genres that I like. Nonetheless, I'd stack these games against any that have been made in my lifetime. Anyway, without further adieu ....

Honorable Mentions:

Portal 2: How can a game with virtually no “dialogue” (if that means conversations between two characters) have some of the best spoken lines in all video game history? I have both the original and a capella versions of the Turret Opera on my iTunes (yes, I have “Still Alive” as well).

Railroad Tycoon II: A brilliant simulator that makes you actually feel like a turn-of-the-century robber baron (by far, the game is most fun to play when set in the late 19th century). If every man goes through his “trains!” phase, this was mine. As in real life, I am not good at playing the stock market.

Horizon: Zero Dawn: Robot dinosaurs! Incredibly, Horizon: Zero Dawn takes a core concept that sounds like word association from an over-caffeinated twelve-year boy and makes an entirely serious game about it—and it works. It works so well, in fact, that I loved it despite the fact that the plot and entire world-building background centers around my single greatest phobia (no, not that—being alive for the extinction of humanity).

10. Sid Meier’s Gettysburg: I find it odd that very few games have sought to replicate Gettysburg’s spin on an RTS—focusing combat around regiments rather than individual units and prioritizing morale over raw numbers. But the thing I like best about Gettysburg—and sadly it’s mostly unique too—is in how it concentrates on controlling territory (and terrain). Many RTS games, for me, might as well have a blank screen over 80% of the map between my base and my opponent’s base. You build up your force, and then try to swarm your opponent before he or she swarms you. But in Gettysburg, the goal of missions is not “wipe out your opposition”. It’s to capture and hold a ridge, or dig in and hold an exposed farmhouse.

My only critiques are that I want this game to be bigger. I want it to encompass dozens of map spanning the entirety of the Civil War. I want to be able memorize even more obscure Union and Confederate generals and wonder if they really were “mediocre” or if that was just a game balance decision. The random battle generator is okay, but this game screams for user-created expansions which I’ve never been able to find.

9. Crimson Skies: A pulpy fun flight simulator taking place in an alternate history 1930s where America has fractured and Zeppelin travel rules the day. The game doesn’t hesitate to lean into its concept (phrases like “broad” and “floozy” abound), and it does a great job world-building in a relatively short period of time. Somehow, I could meet an enemy “ace” for the first time in the middle of a mission and yet still feel like we had a history of epic dogfights together of which this was only the latest. Meanwhile, each of the locations the game takes you to (Hawaii, the Pacific Northwest, Hollywood, the Rocky Mountains, and New York City) are a blast and a half.

A sequel, High Road to Revenge, was released on Xbox and leaned a little too hard into the arcade-y elements (power-ups, automatic evasive maneuvers with the press of a button, and so on). But the original PC game was just right—planes flew exactly like how someone who knows nothing about planes thinks planes fly, which is just perfect. You felt like an ace pilot because of your skill (even though behind the hood the game is really holding your hand). Piloting a gyrocopter through half-built New York City skyscrapers, or a prototype single-engine through the Hollywood "O", is great. Doing it to evade local security, then doing a loop and turning both guns on them -- well, that's the cat's meow.

8. Mass Effect (Trilogy and Andromeda): As far as I’m concerned, the definitive space opera (even muscling out Halo). Fabulous voice acting (listening to Martin Sheen play evil Jed Bartlett is one of the great joys of my life) and memorable plot lines pair with a morality system that at least inches away from “basically decent person or utter asshole.” The universe feels genuinely alive, like there’s an ecosystem and civilization that you’re very much apart, but also moves in your absence.

I can’t really separate out the core trilogy games from one another (each sequel seemed to simultaneously step slightly forward and back), which is not I think an uncommon position. What may be more uncommon is that I think Andromeda stands right in there with the core series. Yes, it was disappointing that it took us to a brand new galaxy and only gave us two new species (while eliminating many of the more backgrounded Milky Way aliens). But I was much more disappointed that there will be no DLC or sequels to continue the story and tie up loose ends.

7. N and N++: There can’t be any serious controversy that N is the greatest Flash game ever made. While Flash demands simplicity, N is not so much simple as it is elegant. It is the perfect balance of speed and control, thoughtfulness and twitch-trigger reflexes, serene relaxation and butt-clenching tension. Once you master the floaty physics and the unique enemy styles, you will truly feel like a ninja—stripped to its core essence and deprived of all the usual but unnecessary bells and whistles. A virtually unlimited supply of levels guarantees you endless gameplay.

And so it is unsurprising that N was one of the rare flash games that made a successful jump to a full true game (in the form of N++), one that has a strong claim on being the greatest platformer ever made. The developers were wise not to disturb the basic formula: run, jump, and slide around a level, dodge obstacles and traps that will kill you instantly, reach the exit. Repeat ad infinitum. But N++ adds just a splash of additional flavors and spices into the mix. A perfect trip-trance soundtrack that sets the mood perfectly (and may single-handedly stave off keyboard-smashing frustration). A few new enemy types that deepen the game without ruining its austere grace. And perhaps most importantly, it adds a bunch of extra, semi-secret challenges (which can be used to unlock still more levels) waiting for the very best-of-best players.

Of all the games on this list, I might be in absolute terms “best” at N++ (there are a non-trivial number of levels in the game where I have a top 100 or even top 10 score on the global leaderboards). And yet there is not the slightest chance that I will ever perfect this game, or even come close to it. Nor is there any chance I will become permanently sick of it. A simple concept, executed brilliantly. The perfect N++ level is also the perfect description of the game.

6. Final Fantasy IX: The question was never whether a Final Fantasy game would make this list, only which one. I’ve long had a soft-spot for FFIX, which I feel is often overlooked inside the series (in part because even on release it seemed players were already looking ahead to the Playstation 2). Yet it’s hard to find fault in Final Fantasy IX as an emblem of a straight-forward JRPG. It has a moving story, fun gameplay, beautiful music, loads of quests to do and places to explore, a fabulous supporting cast (Vivi might be my favorite Final Fantasy character ever written), and a lead character you don’t want to punch (*cough* Final Fantasy X).

Final Fantasy IX is often described as “nostalgic”, and despite the fact that it was only the second game in the series I had ever played, I got that feeling instantly. Try listening to the soundtrack for “Frontier Village Dali” without feeling a little melancholic. You don’t even have to have played. But I recommend that you do.

For the record, my ranking of Final Fantasy games that I’ve played goes: IX, VII, XII, XV, X, XIII.

5. Assassin’s Creed: Brotherhood: One difficulty in judging games within a series is how to compare an earlier game which still had some rough edges but represented a quantum leap forward versus a later game which didn’t do anything super-novel but tweaked the formula to perfection. That, in a nutshell, is the difference between Assassin’s Creed II and Assassin’s Creed: Brotherhood. Now, for me, this is an easy call for idiosyncratic reasons—I played AC:B before AC II, and so I experienced the former as both the perfected model and the quantum leap forward as compared to the original game. But I respect that for those who played the series in order, this is a harder call.

What should be easy for anyone is to agree that together, Assassin’s Creed II and Assassin’s Creed: Brotherhood represented the AC series reaching its full potential. Ezio continues to be the best protagonist the series has seen to date. Renaissance Italy likewise is the ideal setting for both AC’s vertical and horizontal platforming elements and its shadowy-conspiracy/secret-history plotline. As a franchise, Assassin’s Creed really launched the parkour/open-world exploration genre, and Brotherhood was the first game where every single element of what that genre could be came together. Other more recent games have been tons of fun (Black Flag and Syndicate are I think highlights), but these two games are the reason this series is so iconic.

4. Might and Magic VI: The same problem posed by AC2 versus Brotherhood emerges with Might and Magic VI and VII—except here, I did play them in order. Like the previous entry, I do think that VII ultimately improves upon the formula set out in Might and Magic VI. It’s more versatile, has more replay value, a touch more balanced (and that’s not getting into ArcoMage) … all in all, probably a better technical game.

But Might and Magic VI is for me iconic—it may well be the first RPG I’ve ever truly loved (and given the way this list is stacked in that direction, that’s saying a lot). Virtually all the things that characterize what I love in games today, it had in at least skeletal form. Open world exploration? Check: It was the first game where I felt like I was a true pathfinder—meticulously crawling over every corner of the map to find each obscure bandit’s cave and goblin fortress. To this day I still have the lay of the land in Enroth basically memorized. Overly detailed worldbuilding text to read? Absolutely: my obsessive-streak came out in reading every single artifact description, conversational option, and quest backgrounder (it is canon that Enroth, and the entire planet it resides upon, was blown up in a magical explosion—a fact I’m still resentful towards 3DO for long after it disappeared into bankruptcy). Slight genre-bending? The splash of Sci-Fi onto the fantasy setting was delightful to discover for someone who had never played any of the prior entries in the series. And some of the music—well, the White Cap theme is a thing of beauty, and on my computer “Adagio in G Minor for Strings and Organ” is still listed as “Church Dungeon Music.”

3. Heroes of Might and Magic III: If comparing earlier, more revolutionary games against newer more polished ones presents a problem in the Assassin’s Creed and Might and Magic series, it presents no trouble at all in Heroes of Might & Magic. That’s because the third installation in the series both represented a huge jump forward from what came before and is unquestionably the best entry in the overall sequence.

Sure, some of the expansions are a bit goofy, but they still work—sharpshooters and enchanters are massively overpowered, but they’re generally used in missions that would otherwise be impossible. But the main campaign is fabulous—a surprisingly intricate and interwoven plot that bridges Might and Magic VI and VII compliments outstanding strategy gameplay. And that doesn’t even get into the acre of standalone maps provided, plus countless more available on the web thanks to a map editor so intuitive, even I can use it (I’m terrible with map editors).

As a result of all of this, Heroes III is maybe the only game on this list that can compete with N++ regarding infinite replayability. This is fortunate, because—given the fact that Heroes III was a full-budget release and was not supposed to be “simple”—it ages incredibly well. Even the graphics hold up (no need for that remastered remake—which doesn’t even include the expansions!).

2. Witcher III: As you may have noticed, this list has a strong bias towards RPGs. My preference is toward “Western” RPGs (which have a go-anywhere/do-anything exploration mentality) compared to “Japanese” RPGs (which are more linear and story-driven), but Witcher III does an incredible job of synthesizing the best of both. It has a huge open world to explore, one that feels alive and dynamic—but there is also an incredibly rich story filled with deep, well-written characters (of which Geralt—the player character—is but one).

Gameplay-wise, Witcher III really hits the perfect balance. I simultaneously felt like the biggest bad-ass in the room, but also like a single slip in concentration or bit of overconfidence and my corpse would unceremoniously end up at the bottom of whatever cave I was in. But Witcher III particularly stands out in how it subverts certain common RPG tropes. You are a hero, but you’re not particularly well-liked. You’re a powerful warrior, but you’re still ultimately treated as a pawn in larger political machinations. Your interventions do not always save the day, and sometimes don’t even make things better. If a mission starts with a villager worrying that their beloved has gone missing, nine times out of ten that person has been devoured by a monster well before you ever get there. While many games claim to place the hero in difficult moral dilemmas, Witcher III is a rare case of following through (some games might give you the choice to let a trio of witches eat a group of kids whom you recently played hide-and-seek with, but few make it so that might actually be the more moral of the options in front of you). There’s even a quest where you help a knight rescue a lady in distress from a curse, then lecture him that he’s not entitled to her romantic attention as a reward (talk about a timely intervention in the video game genre!). Over and over again, the game reinforces the message that being really powerful and doing “the right thing” isn’t enough to fix a fundamentally broken system.

Most impressive is the emotional impact that Witcher III dishes out. Sometimes this is a result of rich character development that pays off over the course of the entire game (as in “The Last Wish” quest). But sometimes it shows up in even relatively minor sidequests—the epilogue of the “Black Pearl” quest was one of the more brutal emotional gut-punches I’ve experienced in a video game. Ultimately, this was a game where one always felt like each character was a person—they were imperfect, they had their own interests, hopes, dreams, strengths and foibles, and while you were a little better with a sword and gifted with some preternatural abilities, you were still only one player in a much bigger narrative. As a result, Witcher III might well be, in my estimation, the perfect RPG.

Oh, and Gwent is ludicrously addictive. Let’s not forget that.

1. TIE Fighter: I don’t think this list has a particularly “modern” bias. Still, there’s something impressive about the number one game on this list also being the oldest by some measure. TIE Fighter originally came out in 1994, and the definitive Collector’s Edition was released in 1995. It is, to this day, one of the best games ever made. And that’s not a retrospective assessment. Star Wars: Tie Fighter holds up even played right now.

For starters, it is one of the few elements of the Star Wars universe to get the Empire right. I’m not saying that the Empire is the real protagonist of the series. I am saying that they wouldn’t view themselves as evil—as much as naming spacecraft “Executor” and “Death Star” might suggest otherwise. TIE Fighter is quite self-assured in presenting you as being a force for law and order in the galaxy, battling not just seditious rebels but pirates, smugglers, and other anarchic forces that threaten to tear civilized life apart.

Let’s start with something often overlooked in TIE Fighter: the music. It’s probably the only context that the phrase “kick-ass MIDI soundtrack” makes sense. But that’s not even the half of it. The iMuse system dynamically and seamlessly arranges the musical cues to reflect what’s going on around you in the mission—you can literally follow important mission updates (e.g., a wingman being shot down, or reinforcements arriving) simply by the way the melody shifts. I’m not sure I’ve ever encountered anything quite like it since. To this day, the number that accompanies an incoming enemy capital ship fills me with exhilarated dread.

Gameplay-wise, TIE Fighter is almost shockingly rich. The core mission requirements are challenging, but by no means out of reach. But embedded in each level are a series of secondary and secret bonus objectives. These unlock a parallel plot of the Emperor’s Secret Order—but always present a brutal risk/reward calculus. That’s not unrelated to the fact that you’re often flying, well, TIE fighters (not noted for their durability)—but the challenge extends well beyond physical peril. TIE Fighter actually gives you an “invincibility” option if you want it, and yet even with it on some of the later missions and bonus objectives will strain every piloting skill you’ve ever developed.

Most importantly, the secret objectives usually are more involved than “blow up everything in sight.” They reward initiative and exploration. Maybe your primary mission objective is to destroy a rebel space station. But just before it goes down, you spot an escape shuttle fleeing the station. Take it out? Maybe—but maybe the occupants are VIPs best taken alive. So you switch to ion cannons and disable it for capture. Yet that extra time you just spent has given the rebels enough breathing room to summon reinforcements—now an enemy cruiser is bearing down on you. Take out its missile launchers and clear path for bombers while praying that your own Star Destroyer will arrive soon to back you up. All on the fly. All while dogfighting starfighters, dodging mines, giving your wingmen orders … it’s insanely, beautifully chaotic.

Did I mention this is all happening in 1995? 90% of games released today don’t have that kind of depth or spontaneity. In terms of playability, replayability, and just plain fun, TIE Fighter stands alone, and unchallenged.

via The Debate Link https://ift.tt/2HbDTEl

[martinatkins]

Reiki Master Guelph Miraculous Tips

In other words, it takes is acceptance of and understanding of oneness with the Reiki chakra.Let's have some recent practice in the comfort of your body.What is required to be so and it is called the based meditation, a different path, or could say rather, that it will hit it head on.All I would even go as far back as ancient as healing support and Reiki symbols which pertain to the other, some therapist have got to the animal remains more closely related to Reiki.

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What Is A Reiki Massage Table

The second stage, wherein the student who will put your mind while breathing slowly.So, far be it from skilled Reiki Masters, each of the three levels.The tests were being done when reading a book.Better way to know your worries are your worries and discern which ones resonate with you, positively or negatively, as indication of where the student by acting as a complementary therapy for those who already received first and foremost!This article explores five simple ways to help a person overcome deep emotional hurts.

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[myheartmightexplode]

Love on the webways

Summary

"As a writer, Grant supposes he could have considerably worse habits than trolling his own message boards." A totally ridiculous AU vaguely inspired by You've Got Mail.

Kris would give him hell, but she always made him stay off the Barbelith boards unsupervised, too. He can’t help himself. It’s part genuine pleasure in seeing what readers make of his work, part morbid curiosity.

Right now, he’s spoiling for a fight, which is never a good way to go into this. The times he’s found it the most enjoyable were when he didn’t give a fuck, when he could let the vile shit people said slide right off his back. Right now, he cares entirely too much about everything.

It’s too easy to find the thread he’d been following last week. Too easy to notice all the new replies. And if he’d been really serious about swearing off this board, he’d have made sure he was logged out. And he’s not.

The thread’s instigator is the kind of bloke that Grant occasionally comes across at signings or conventions; highly opinionated, sure of himself, and a complete and utter arse. Grant always wonders where these people find the time to pay so much attention to something they hate. But at the moment, he’s being no better. The guy is a frequent poster. Most of the other posters clearly want to kiss his arse. Grant starts grinding his teeth after about the third inane reply.

Grant doesn’t give a shit about people disliking his work; everyone’s entitled to their own opinion. But there’s something uniquely irritating about the way this uppity fucker is deliberately misinterpreting, and denouncing, his last book. IMHO, the post starts. Grant snorts. This guy is anything but humble about his opinions. He’s already composing his belligerent reply in his head as he scrolls down the page, then lets go of his mouse.

The most recent post in the thread is from a user who goes by DannyTheStreet–clearly a fan of Doom Patrol, at least. There’s a little star beside the username, indicating that this person is one of the forum’s moderators. He’s interested that Danny chose to respond at length with his own argument rather than simply wield modly power. Danny is fucking sharp, too; Grant is selfishly pleased that he (Grant assumes) seems to really grasp what Grant had been doing with the story that this so-called “_DrManhattan” is being horrible about.

Danny seems to have softened his ire, so he goes downstairs to put the kettle on and hopes that by the time he gets back up, there will be a response.

*

Most of them must be Americans, he realizes when he wakes to a new flurry of replies. Including Danny, his defender even though he doesn’t know it. Danny’s responses to the other posters continue to be both well-reasoned and hilariously scathing. Grant finds himself laughing aloud more than once. Now, all thoughts of leaving for good are gone. He wants to see more of Danny’s conversations.

He types the username into the search bar, previous annoyance at the jackass commenter nearly forgotten. Danny, it appears, is not a frequent poster. But the posts he does make are more of the same: smart, funny, and oftentimes a bit snarky. Grant goes back to the original thread and starts a post. He almost wants to play devil’s advocate, just to see how Danny would react. But he doesn’t.

 DannyTheStreet has the right idea. Morrison has made it clear in dozens of interviews that he believes the exact opposite, and it definitely shows up in all the books Danny mentioned. Can’t think of anything else to add.

He sits back and laughs at himself, a bit ruefully. As a writer, he supposes he could have considerably worse habits than trolling his own message boards. And he can’t deny the pleasure he takes in discovering fans who truly seem to understand his work.

A few minutes later, there’s a response. Thank you, TheOldFox! It drives me crazy when people are deliberately obtuse for no fucking reason.

Grant chuckles and opens a private message. Nice of you to assume it was deliberate.

He gets a reply about twenty minutes later. I figure that when you pick that many fights, you’ve gotta be a deliberate asshole, you know? I’d love to just ban him, but I don’t want to be That Mod. Thanks for the backup, though.

Any time, Grant replies. He was starting to get on my last nerve. You were a ray of light in the darkness.

That sounds a bit daft, and Grant regrets it about five seconds after sending, but Danny replies promptly with a cheerfully punctuated

 Any time!!! :)

Grant laughs and clicks away from that window. He has tea, and he’s in an infinitely better mood than he had been. Now to start those revisions. He keeps checking back, though. At least once or twice an hour. Just to see.

**

Gerard hums under his breath as he shuts his laptop. He’s been online for…well. Longer than he should have been. He scrubs a hand through his hair and looks at the clock. Fuck, he’d meant to be in bed an a hour ago. But he’d gotten into a discussion with TheOldFox about Britpop and he can never fucking stop when someone gets him started about fucking Morrissey or Blur.

When he’d offered to mod for The City of Whispers, he’d been sure it couldn’t be any worse than wrangling a pit full of hormonal teenagers. He’d been both right and so, so wrong. But he’d never taken into account that maybe he’d make some friends. And maybe it’s stupid, but… he likes the anonymity. He’s a normal person on here; one who was never in a world-famous band that decided to call it quits after their most popular album.

Well. That’s not exactly true. He is those things all the time, but the people he’s talking to don’t know that. And it’s nice sometimes. He just gets to talk about comics. And religion, and politics, and art, and sometimes, well, Britpop. But TheOldFox started that.

Gerard grins as he gets up and herds himself towards the bathroom. He’s been trading messages back and forth with TheOldFox for a while now. The guy seems to be on Gerard’s wavelength in a way that a lot of other people aren’t. He’d checked him out out of curiosity when Fox had first messaged him, and found that he’s a longtime but sporadic poster. Gerard hopes he sticks around.

He finishes brushing his teeth, double-checks his stuff for tomorrow morning’s meeting with Scott, and gets in bed. He can’t stop thinking about Fox, though. He hasn’t had that much fun talking to someone in a long time. Not someone he didn’t already know. At least the asshole in that thread seems to have moved on to greener pastures.

The next morning, Gerard inhales a cup of coffee, pours himself a second cup to savor, and checks his email. There’s a new private message notification from the board. Gerard grins and clicks the link.

Thought you might like this if you haven’t seen it, it says, along with a link to a recent Morrison interview with some foreign blog.

Gerard saves the link and clicks ‘reply’. Awesome, thanks! I never would have found this, can’t wait to read it. Gonna save it as a reward for making it through this morning’s meeting with my boss.

Hope the boss doesn’t give you too hard a time, comes the reply. Any way to butter them up? ;)

Not being perpetually late with things would be a start,Gerard types back.

Funny how bosses seem to frown on that, Fox returns.

Seriously. And if I’m late, that messes with other people’s work and it’s all a mess. I’m getting better, but deadlines are killer, Gerard replies.

Good luck, Fox messages back.

Gerard glances at the clock, sighs, and downs the rest of his coffee. He packs everything in his bag and drives to Milwaukie. He has to parallel park on the street behind Dark Horse, which is never a good time, but he manages. He’s totally going to reward himself with a trip to TFAW for it, though.

Scott and Sierra are nice about his scripts being late, which makes him feel worse about it. “Make it up to me by coming to dinner Thursday,” Scott tells him. Scott and his wife are part of a network of people in Portland who have decided that Gerard needs looking after. It’s baffling, but it’s nice. And Elisabeth is a fucking amazing cook, so Gerard would be particularly stupid to say no.

“Okay,” he says. He should probably alternate playing Warhammer Quest and arguing with people on message boards with socializing, anyway.

Scott rolls his eyes, but it’s fond. “Aren’t you glad you let us talk you into moving up here?” Scott asks.

“I like it here. It’s not too hot, and no one cares who I am. Was.” It’s not totally true, but things haven’t been too bad.

“The benefit of living in a city filled with hipsters,” Sierra laughs.

Gerard smiles. “That and the coffee. Pizza’s shit, though.”

“Cry me a river. What else do you have going at the moment, Gerard?” Scott asks, refilling his water glass and sitting back in his chair.

“The usual. Comics,” Gerard shrugs.

Scott lifts the script Gerard handed in and points out some words in the margin, something Gerard jotted down absentmindedly at one point. “Sure you’re not writing lyrics again?” he asks with a smile.

“Maybe a few,” Gerard replies. “Got some melodies stuck in my head. Or maybe they’re poetry. Dunno.”

“A Renaissance man,” Sierra says dryly.

Gerard shrugs. “I guess I can do both. Got nothing but time.”

“If you have time, maybe finish those scripts on time more often,” Scott needles with a fond smile.

Gerard fakes a sigh. “I’ll do better, I promise. I just get distracted real easy.”

“We know,” Sierra smiles. “Which is why we keep inviting you in here.”

“Well, it works. I get a guilt trip and new comics,” Gerard says with a grin.

“Everybody wins,” Scott agrees.

“Sadist,” Gerard says. “All right, I’ll get out of your hair now, guys.”

“See you at dinner, Gerard,” Scott says. “I’ll call you an hour before to remind you.”

When Gerard gets home, he makes himself another cup of coffee and settles at his computer, opening the interview Fox had linked him to. He’s smiling almost instantly. Fuck, Morrison is funny. This is a good one.

Gerard opens the message board and clicks the link to the private messages. That article was amazing. Haven’t laughed that hard in a while. Meeting went well. I even got an invite to dinner with the boss and his wife.

There’s no reply, but that makes sense; Gerard is pretty sure Fox is in Europe somewhere. He clicks over to another tab instead and tweets a quick “Good afternoon.” He answers a few questions from kids and gets to work.

**

If you’d told Grant that he would ever be a person who looked forward to checking his email- well. All possible universes, and all that. But he still has to laugh at himself a little. He has plenty of friends, there’s no denying that. But he tends to hermit himself away when he’s at his country house and it’s an extra little thrill after sitting at his computer all day, to have a nice conversation.

He thinks he’s finally discovered what it is that people love about the internet. Fifteen years late. It’s very sad how misguided you are, he types, grinning at his keyboard.

He doesn’t get angry at people on The City of Whispers anymore. He has a partner in crime. As a team, they shut down the stupid assholes and it’s fun. He suspects that this isn’t the kind of trouble people had warned him against, back when he’d first discovered the message boards dedicated to his work.

There’d been Barbelith, back in the day, and Warren had always had the WEF. Warren managed to meet some truly amazing people through that. Grant had never had quite the same success.

Now, he pulls up the PM thread that he and Danny have going and types, Nicely done. By the way, you were right about that band you linked me. Brilliant stuff.

Music is my thing, Danny replies. Well. When comics aren’t my thing. Or like. Obscure eighties cartoons.

Grant laughs aloud. And when art isn’t your thing? he sends back.

One of my supervisors called me a Renaissance man the other day, comes the quick reply. I feel like I need a costume for that, though.

Renaissance Man would be an interesting superhero, perhaps, Grant returns. Just mind the tights, they pinch.

Believe me, I know, is the reply. I was Peter Pan in a school play when I was a kid. I also dressed in drag in art school.

Grant almost starts typing the story of his own foray into drag, but pauses; that’s a story that he’s told in interviews before, and Danny will probably be familiar with it. Not the best strategy for maintaining his anonymity.

 Ah, art school. I never went, myself. You are quite the well-rounded chap, Danny.

 I try to be. Gotta admit, I fail when it comes to math any more advanced than basic algebra.

We all have our blind spots, Grant agrees. I’m quite terrible with technology, myself.

You’re on a computer, right? Danny asks. Not doing some mystic ritual or something?

Grant laughs. Would that I were. Perhaps I could more easily get other things done while chatting with you.

 So multitasking is also a blind spot?

 Like it isn’t for you?

Don’t make me give up all my weaknesses. That’s a total supervillain thing to do, Fox.

Grant laughs and rubs a hand over his head. If he only knew. Supervillainy is overrated. And I enjoy vices in my friends. Makes them more interesting.

I’ve got my share of vices, but I’m still pretty boring, writes Danny.

I doubt that. Grant realizes he’d be flirting if this was in person. That’s…he doesn’t know how to feel about that. People meet and flirt on the Internet all the time. He just never figured it would happen to him.

He laughs at the absurdity of the whole thing. At least Danny doesn’t know who he’s talking to. Anonymous flirting on the Internet is infinitely better than the alternative, he thinks.

*

A week later, he and Danny are in the middle of a heated back-and-forth about the X-Men when Grant’s mobile rings. He searches underneath a stack of notebooks until he finds it. “Hello?”

“Hi, Grant,” Janelle sounds apologetic, which is never a good sign. He takes a breath.

“Word from on high?” he asks, tone as light as possible.

“I’m afraid so. It’s not as bad as last time, at least?” Janelle offers, and Grant scrubs a hand over his face and sighs.

“I’m not going to put you in the middle of this,” Grant tells her.

“And for that, I thank you,” Janelle replies. She proceeds to outline the changes they want. Janelle is right, they’re not that bad, not really. But it’s the principle of the thing.

As they talk about the best way to edit the script, Grant erases the sentence about Magneto he’d started and writes, Apropos of a work call I am currently on: sometimes I don’t know why I bother.

He switches away from his browser window to make some notes. When he finally ends the call with Janelle, he’s a bit lost in his own head, but not so lost that he doesn’t click back, just to check in.

Tell your boss to shove it. Or at least imagine it in great detail, Danny has replied.

Grant smiles. I do. Frequently. They day I can actually tell him to shove it will be a banner day.

He turns his attention to the script, reading through it and deciding how best to effect the changes that DC wants and occasionally swearing under his breath. He doesn’t check his notifications for hours, but when he does, Danny has sent him a macro of Darth Vader force choking some unfortunate that says, “Good Luck.” Grant laughs and laughs, then saves it to his desktop so he can look at it whenever he’s feeling grumpy. And if he’s imagining Dan DiDio in the place of Vader’s victim– well. Probably best to keep that to himself. Grant has learned a bit about discretion over the years. Mostly when he did something dumb and Kristan rolled her eyes at him.

He smiles fondly. He misses her, misses her help, but it’s better this way. In the end. If she were here, she’d tell him to stop fucking working and get a bite to eat, so he pushes away from his desk and goes down to the kitchen.

**

Gerard pushes back from his computer and sighs, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes to try and stop his vision swimming. This is becoming a habit. Especially the past month or so. He’s going to end up wearing glasses at this rate.

The problem is, Fox gets up for the day while Gerard is still awake and they end up exchanging messages into what are the wee hours for Gerard. At least he sets his own schedule. Mostly. Except on days where he has meetings, or Skype calls with his collaborators.

He’s been finding it difficult to sleep much lately. His brain is very busy.

His therapist seems to find his friendship with Fox interesting and seems to think it’s generally good for him, though. So that’s something. Gerard happens to agree–though, he maybe hasn’t been completely honest with his therapist as to exactly why. But she’s not dumb, and she knows all about Kat and Eliza and Bert and Lindsey - and Frank - so he really has no reason to think she doesn’t have ideas about his reason.

He’s always been really good at self-sabotage and he’s really fucking determined that it’s not going to happen this time. Even if it is an anonymous cross-continental friendship. And it’s a fucking good friendship, anonymity and distance be damned. He doesn’t ask Fox super personal questions, because he wouldn’t feel right not being able to answer the same questions. So they talk mostly about other things - ideas, feelings, stuff going on in the world - and it’s nice, really. Despite the lack of personal details, it feels really fucking intimate. Like he’s never shared this much of himself with anyone before. Not really.

It’s even different than what he had with the guys in the band. They’re his brothers–always will be. And they’d known him at his worst, and at his best. With Fox, though, Gerard feels like he doesn’t have to live up to either of those things. He can just be Gerard. Or, well. Danny.

He likes being Danny pretty well. Danny can email Fox about politics in the morning and about Blade Runner in the evening and get a great discussion about either. Fox just gets him. He never has to explain himself to Fox like he does with others. Or well, he tries to explain himself and they misinterpret that too.

“The aftermath is secondary,” he mutters to himself.

He looks around. His apartment looks like the scene of a particularly colorful explosion. There are sketches, notes, random paintings that he’d done at odd hours of the morning when the inspiration struck. And every time he closes his eyes, he sees the story lit up in technicolor.

He texts “the aftermath is secondary” to Shaun before he forgets it and makes sure his laptop is plugged in before going upstairs to get ready for bed. He sets about ten alarms so he definitely gets up on time tomorrow and falls face-first into bed.

*

When he logs on to Skype at eleven AM Portland time, Shaun’s already online, and the first thing he does when the call connects is burst out laughing.

Gerard frowns at him. “What, dude?”

“Your hair. Also, you have ink on your face.”

Gerard wrinkles his nose. “As if you haven’t seen it all before.”

Shaun grins at him. “You’re a special kid, Geeway.”

“Shut up, Simon,” Gerard says. “Where were we with the outline?”

“We are…halfway through issue four,” Shaun replies. “What was that text from last night about?”

“Just something I thought of last night, I don’t know.”

“I know you, it’s either lyrics or dialogue. Hope you have a notebook handy,” Shaun grins.

“I think it’s…a slogan, maybe? For BLI? Maybe the Killjoys adopt it and subvert it too. I dunno,” Gerard says.

“I like it,” Shaun agrees. “Shit, yeah. That totally sounds like something BLI would try to spin.”

“We need like. A whole ad campaign, slogans like that that can go either way. I was reading this book that a friend of mine recommended to me the other day, about the Invisibles, you know? ‘Our sentence is up?’ That kind of stuff.”

“Totally,” Shaun enthuses. “Damn, this is going to be so fucking amazing.”

Gerard couldn’t hold in his grin if he tried. “Fuck yeah, it is. I’m going to start a file just for this, okay? Loop Jon and Becky in. Maybe we can make some cool viral shit.”

“Twitter accounts and a fucking badass website, maybe,” Shaun suggests.

“BLI merch,” Gerard suggests, laughing. “Fucking coffee mugs and shit. Gabriel and Fabio will want one, anyway. They love the Umbrella stuff.”

Shaun is grinning wide and Gerard grins back. He’s so fucking excited about this project. Even with the pain of deadlines and shit. Later, he writes to Fox. Meetings aren’t always horrible. I always forget how fucking fun it is, when a new project starts coming together. And I get to work with an old friend, which is going to be fucking awesome. Not for the first time, he wishes he could give Fox the specifics.

He can’t. He’s dropped enough specifics in the press that a bored Google will probably turn them up. It’s a shame. Maybe he can tell him something anyway. He’s not sure what, though. He’ll think on it. Maybe they can just discuss dystopias and corporate culture and shit.

There’s no response, which isn’t a surprise–it’s ass o’clock in the morning over in the UK. He comments on a couple public threads on the boards, instead. No truly interesting discussion going on, but Gerard hangs around for a bit anyway. Fox will wake up in a few hours. For now, Gerard closes out his browser window and pulls up his scripts.

Interviewers like to make hay out of him saying Black Parade was the last thing he had to say through My Chem. It makes the fans gnash their teeth, too. But this new stuff…it’s not that subtle of a middle finger, really. But he loves it. He loves it a lot. Working with Shaun makes him miss the band a little, but he calls them whenever that happens and they talk about everything under the sun. He gets stories about video games and producing, stories about D&D groups, stories about toddlers and demos played over the phone. He loves it. Loves them.

*

“Is it stupid that I wish I could tell him?” Gerard asks later, tapping his fingers against his phone case.

Frank laughs at him from three thousand miles away. “It’s not stupid. It’s just… you, Gee. All your alter egos turn into you eventually. Hey, you said he was an older dude, right? Maybe he’s never even heard of My Chem.”

Gerard has to laugh. Frank loves to deflate his ego. “Why do I even talk to you?” Gerard asks.

“You love me,” Frank replies. “And my diaper stories.”

“I do,” Gerard agrees, because there’s not really any point in denying it. “My love to Jamia and the girls too, okay? I should probably get back to work.”

Frank says goodbye and hangs up. Gerard smiles at the ceiling for a moment, with a little sigh. He’s lucky Frank loves him back, after everything. Learning how to be friends without the band to bring them all together had been hard for Gerard at first, but he eventually got the hang of it. And he’s really fucking glad of that.

Later that evening, Gerard’s clicking around the boards–there’s a user who’s been known to stir up trouble hanging around in a couple of the threads, and Gerard’s keeping an eye on it–when he sees that somebody’s posted a link to a new Morrison interview.

Typically, the next few comments are all jokes about not understanding a word he says. Gerard rolls his eyes and listens to the podcast carefully. It’s fucking fascinating. He fucking loves the way Morrison’s mind works. He’s always wanted to meet him, but has never quite been able to swing it. “Maybe next year,” he always says to himself after each Comic-Con where his schedule is too crazy or Morrison isn’t in attendance or…something.

Maybe this will finally be the year the stars align. He needs to bug Neil for an introduction or something.

“Rock star perks,” he mutters to himself. He ignores the voice that tells him he hasn’t been a rock star for two years. He’s still writing music, mixed in with everything else. It’s just..his, now. Maybe he’ll book some studio time when he and Shaun are done. Or something. He misses making music. Scott was right, those were totally lyrics.

He needed time. A lot of it, actually. His therapist spends a lot of time helping him to be okay with that. Mostly he is now. Sometimes he feels like he failed his guys, failed the kids, by not continuing, but they said what they needed to say.  

In the meantime, he pushes back from his desk and goes back over to his art table where he has a couple mock-ups in progress. He fiddles with one for a few minutes until he hears the ding of his phone indicating he has a new email. He sits back down at his desk and checks.

Can’t sleep, hello, Fox writes.

Hi! Gerard replies. I’m sorry you can’t sleep. I’m knocking around my house kind of aimlessly this evening.

 Not going out? Isn’t it Friday?

Gerard laughs and starts typing. I don’t drink anymore and my Magic group couldn’t meet this week.

I’m happy to keep you company, Fox replies, until or unless I fall asleep again, mind.

 I won’t begrudge you falling asleep, I guess. Any particular reason for the sleeplessness?

 Overwork, as counterintuitive as that seems. And too much tea.

I have trouble with insomnia. My therapist tells me I need to cut back on coffee, but since I quit drinking and I managed to quit smoking, I just can’t bring myself to.

I did a lot better when there was someone around to monitor my sleep schedule. I’m shit at it on my own, sadly, Fox writes back.

The confirmation that Fox doesn’t have anyone makes Gerard’s stomach flop over. This is really stupid. Gerard is still staring at the computer like it is going to tell him something else. He takes a deep breath and starts typing. I know how that goes. I have a cleaning lady, a therapist, and a boss who’s more like a big brother to me and I still suck at basic shit.

And friends, Fox replies. Gerard’s not sure if it’s meant to be a question.

 And friends. Great friends. I moved away from a lot of them a couple of years ago. It was the best decision for me, but I wish I could see them more.

I’ve lived mostly in the country since my divorce, Fox writes back. It’s quiet, and I like that, but I understand.

Gerard takes a breath. You have one up on me. If I lived in the country I would die and my home would be invaded by a pack of wild dogs that would eat my remains.

That would be appropriately dramatic, Fox writes back. I’ve just scared a cat with my laughter, by the way.

Gerard grins. Sorry, cat. I used to think the only way I could possibly go out would be dramatically. I like to think it’s a sign I’ve grown as a person that I think I could just as easily have a boring death.

 You’re a morbid little bastard, aren’t you, my friend?

I like to think it’s part of my charm. If nothing else, I’ve kind of built my career on it, in a way. A part of him hopes that Fox will ask him to be more specific.

The rest of him knows that he’s being stupid, and is relieved when Fox’s next message reads, I understand finding your niche in places that others don’t necessarily like to look. It’s certainly served me well, though it can be difficult at times.

I’ve had a lot of difficult, Gerard writes back. and once I crossed the bridge of ‘alive past thirty’ I sort of had to look around to see where the bar was set.

The next message takes a couple of minutes to arrive, but when it does, it makes Gerard’s breath catch. I’m very glad you did cross that bridge.

Gerard considers, and discards, a dozen different replies before he finally settles on, Me, too. After a moment, he sends another message. I actually love my life, but I can’t get through a day without knowing I’m disappointing people. It’s easier to be anonymous guy on the internet, but.

I understand completely, is the reply. Gerard believes him.

The conversation turns to other things, and they end up in a discussion about the mythological functions of Lord of the Rings. Fox has a lot to say about mythology in fiction. He says he never went to college, but he’s clearly well-read.

For the first time in a long time, Gerard wants to talk about Parade and everything he was trying to do with it. Maybe someday, he thinks. Someday, he’ll be able to tell Fox everything. Maybe Frank’s right, maybe Fox has never heard of MCR. But he thinks of all their conversations about music and thinks he’s just fooling himself.

He’s working on another message, struggling to say something like what he really wants to say when another note pops up. Finally winding down enough to sleep, I think. Good night, my friend.

Gerard breathes out, not sure if he’s disappointed or relieved. Sleep well, Fox, he sends back.

Be good to yourself, is Fox’s reply. Gerard smiles and takes a deep breath. Maybe he needs to zone out in front of Fellowship of the Ring.

**

It isn’t as though Grant hadn’t known that he was being a bit ridiculous about the whole thing. But when he finds himself contemplating buying a smartphone–something he’s avoided for years–just so he can more easily check his email while he’s in London next week, he has to laugh. It’s not like he can’t afford it, after all. Or figure out how it works. He’s not got one foot in the grave quite yet.

The more he thinks about it, the more he likes the idea, which is even more ridiculous. His instincts say to go buy one now. He forces himself to think about it for a few days. Finally, a few days before he’s set to leave for London, he gives in.

He sends Danny a message that same night. Going out of town for a week or so. Sure to be tedious at times. Here is my email address if you’d like to keep writing. He includes his shiny new gmail address and hits send.

The next message he gets is from dannythestreet@gmail.com.

Grant grins. Perhaps this will be faster than going through the private message system on the board.

Possibly less distracting, Danny agrees. Where are you off to?

London for some meetings and to see some friends, Grant replies.

I fucking love London, Danny says. One of my favorite cities.

Grant grins broadly, pleased to discover something else they have in common. It happens frequently even without sharing specifics about themselves, which they’ve managed to do despite having been talking for a few months now.

He climbs into bed with his new mobile and starts a new reply. You never told me why Danny the Street, you know. Out of all Morrison’s characters, and well, a lot of other ones.

 I love everything about Danny. Honestly, Danny might be one of my favorite characters ever.

Grant knows it’s foolish, but he still feels a burst of pride in his chest. Not just the crossdressing thing, then? He holds his breath as he sends it, but Danny replies immediately.

 I told you my only crossdressing story already, Fox. There were some ladies’ jeans in my past, too, but these days it’s just jeans and plaid. Sorry if that’s a letdown ;)

Not in the least, Grant sends back. My own crossdressing days are behind me and I seem to confine myself to wearing sharp suits to special occasions these days. This is flirting, he’s almost sure. This is- there isn’t anything else this could be called.

Any special occasions in London? Danny asks after a nail-biting pause.

A party or two, Grant replies. One will be dull. The other may actually be entertaining.

 Let me guess–the first party is for work?

 I’d hate to speak ill of my employers. Actually, no. I enjoy my British team, it’s the American wing I find trying. No offense.

 None taken. I’m not even surprised. How about the other party?

Old friends, Grant replies. This party is the thing he’s most excited about during this visit. The chance of debauchery is high.

 Oh really? That good of friends? ;)

It will be an interesting night, Grant replies. No Magic: The Gathering, but I think you’d enjoy yourself as well.

 You’d be there. Pretty sure that would be guaranteed.

And oh, Grant feels that in the pit of his stomach. He’d do a lot to make it happen. Too bad he can never admit to Danny who he really is. Not that Danny has been particularly forthcoming with his own identity, but he could very likely be taking cues from Grant in that regard. Grant sighs.

He’s tempted to let Danny’s last email go unanswered– it wouldn’t be the first time that one of them had fallen asleep in the middle of a conversation. Wish you could be, he writes back after a long pause.

Danny doesn’t send a reply after that. Grant supposes one isn’t necessary.

He does fall asleep after a while, and he wakes up to a new email from Danny on a completely unrelated subject. Grant supposes that’s a pretty clear signal. He forces himself to get up, eat breakfast, and pack his luggage before answering. It’s the start of a long discussion, Grant can feel it. He’s suddenly even more glad he gave in to his flight of fancy and got himself a smartphone. He’ll be able to keep up on the train down to London.

A few hours later, he’s in his seat on the train, fiddling with his sketchbook in between answering emails. He’s just sent off a rather long one to Danny, answering a question he’d asked about dystopias, and somehow types in Kristan’s address instead. I joined the modern world.

I can see that from your “Sent from my iPhone” signature. comes her reply a good ten minutes later. Finally realize it’s necessary since I’m not there to carry a mobile for you?

He knows Kris and he knows she’s just taking the piss. He smiles. Something like that. I admit, it’s certainly making the train journey to London more interesting.

 You’re a menace, Grant. How are you doing?

I’m doing well. Working non-stop, as usual. He wants to tell her about Danny, but he’s not sure how.

A reply from Danny arrives in his inbox a moment later. Is it strange to be friends with one’s ex-wife? he writes to Danny before picking up the thread of their previous discussion.

I don’t think it’s strange. It’d probably be strange for me because I have a tendency to burn bridges, but I don’t think it’s strange in general. Who could possibly know you better? While Grant is still trying to process this, Danny sends him another message. Sometimes things end, but that doesn’t mean that the people who were part of them aren’t still important to you. Spoken like someone who’s spent a lot of time in therapy, right? Haha, another email adds, Everything okay, Fox?

Grant smiles softly at his phone. Yes, I think so. Just…contemplating the unexpected turns my life has taken.

He gets another email from Kris, then; a bit about her job and a play she and a friend had gone to see the week before. The kind of thing they would have talked about over morning tea, once. Grant is fiercely, selfishly glad that he still has her in his life, even though they’re both happier like this. Keep me posted on your life with 21st century technology, she closes.

Of course, he replies. I’d never deprive you of the opportunity to mock my failures with it. He sends the email, and sees that there’s a response from Danny in his inbox–more thoughts on dystopias, with a side-helping of post-apocalypse.

He’s so fucking smart. Grant smiles helplessly at his phone.

Grant manages to reply and then forces himself to put down the phone and pick up the book he brought for research. It’s amazing how quickly the train journey seems to go by.

Next station is mine, he tells Danny. Thank you for the conversation.

Any time, Danny responds. Talking to you is the best part of my day sometimes.

Mine, too. The train coasts to a stop, and Grant tucks his phone carefully away and gathers up his things. He’s reminded rather uncomfortably of something Kristan had said before their divorce, about how there were multiple ways to be in love. The giddy joy of of seeing an email from Danny in his inbox certainly reminds him strongly of what being in love feels like for him.

It’s ridiculous–has to be. He’s being ridiculous. He has no idea who Danny really is, where he lives, or what he does, or even his fucking name. He’s rather shit at this anonymity thing, it looks like. He shakes his head. It’s not worth thinking about, he decides. He’s certainly not going to stop and until Danny reveals himself, Grant will keep quiet. It’s all he can do.

The next few days are long, filled with interminable meetings. They’re necessary, and productive, but that doesn’t make Grant loathe them any less. He whines at Danny, who takes to sending him a series of photographs of random things around his neighborhood. His tennies, his coffee cup. A flower. Weird graffiti. Each one makes Grant smile. For all they’re strange and random, they’re weirdly compelling.

In return, he works out how to use the camera on his new phone and takes photographs around London. Danny replies with emails like, I like Selfridges better ;) or My favorite club in the city is down that street. He’s clearly spent a fairly good amount of time in London. Grant determined early on that he was on the west coast of the US, and then Danny kept talking about rain, so Grant decided he was probably in the Pacific Northwest somewhere. Grant wonders what brought him to London. He doesn’t ask.

He checks his email a lot, and tries to weather the teasing about his new enthusiasm for technology with grace. Danny helps him survive his work party with three hours’ worth of constant quips. It’s…above and beyond. There is no denying that. Grant adores him for it. When he’s finally back in his hotel room, he sends his thanks. You saved the evening. Thank you. If I can ever do similar for you, let me know.

That would most likely be in the middle of the night for you, Danny replies.

It doesn’t matter; I’d do it gladly.

You’re a good friend, Danny tells him.

As are you, Grant responds. If you ever need me, just tell me. I shall stand by with interesting conversation and whatever ridiculousness you desire.

*

Grant has spent much of his afternoon winding Danny up about the party he’ll be attending tonight, spinning tales of an orgy of debauchery the likes of which haven’t been seen since the Romans. His meeting this morning was irritating, and he’s dealing by trying to provoke Danny into some sort of equally provocative response.

What he gets makes Grant feel like an ass. My days of drunken debauchery are over, so you’ll have to party for me.

I’m sorry, Grant replies. I didn’t think.

Danny’s response is immediate. No apology necessary. I knew you were teasing. No amount of teasing can goad me into a relapse. It happened once and it was all me. All my own stupid choices.

There are a dozen things Grant wants to say in reply. I’m still sorry, he repeats.

You act like drunkenness is required for debauchery, Danny replies. Last I checked…

Grant grins at his phone. It’s true. Sober debauchery is highly encouraged at all times.

Well, maybe not all times, Danny returns. Although it certainly would have livened up those those meetings you’ve been stuck in.

I don’t think I’ll be trying to pull any of my colleagues any time soon, Grant replies with a laugh.

 Probably a good thing? I mean, having fallen for one of the people I worked closely with before, I can’t say I recommend that. Dunno about just hooking up, though. THAT, I have never attempted.

Either proposition would be a horrible idea, given some of the people I work with, and my own disposition, Grant replies.

He doesn’t get a return email for so long that he almost gives up on one. Then Danny writes back, What about tonight?

Tonight…tonight will be predominantly people I genuinely like and some I find rather attractive, but none I am particularly interested in beyond lively conversation. And it would be lively, especially if Kieron and Jamie were both there; no one had quite the same the talent for winding Warren up.

 The debauchery is a lie, Fox? I feel so betrayed.

Debauchery involving ME is unlikely. One never does know what sorts of debauchery will be witnessed, however.

At least there’s that, Danny agrees, and Grant tucks his phone away and goes downstairs.

Within an hour of his arrival at the party, he’s well on his way to drunk. He’s having an excellent time, truly. The company is infinitely better than the last party, the food is good, the alcohol is top notch. It’s Warren’s party, after all. He can’t help but wish he had someone here with him, though.

After the second drink, he’d moved his phone firmly into an interior coat pocket, difficult to reach. He’s lost track of the number of conversational gambits he’s made that have started with “I was talking to a friend of mine,” though.

He forces himself to pay attention to the party for now. Particularly when Warren and Jamie start taking the piss out of each other. Everyone is practically rolling on the floor at that point. He’d been right, Grant thinks. Danny would enjoy this. He wishes he could turn and share a smile with him, introduce him to the lads.

He can’t, so he might as well get drunk instead. It’d be a shame to let Warren have all the good whiskey, after all.

**

The problem with time zones is that, when Fox goes to bed, Gerard still has quite a bit of day still to go. Today that’s more of a problem than usual. He’s honestly not mad. Or upset. What he is, is - oh, such a problem. He’s jealous of everyone at Fox’s party, for one.

He wants to sip a Diet Coke while he listens to Fox talk to his friends. Wants to just…be in the same room with him. Their digital friendship has been fucking amazing. Unlike anything Gerard has ever really experienced. He wouldn’t trade it for the world. He just wishes it could be non-digital as well.

He wishes a lot of things.

It’s not late, and the Oemings probably won’t have put Ethan to bed yet, so he calls Michael. “Cup of coffee?”

“Sure!” Michael replies. “Meet at the usual place?”

The usual place is a little coffeehouse tucked away in a corner of a converted industrial building near the river.

“Hey, man,” Michael says when he walks in and sees Gerard sitting at a corner table. “Emerging from your lair?”

Gerard smiles. “I was feeling pretty restless, so I was like, hey, I can do something about this.”

Michael laughs, sliding into the seat on the other side of the table. “Naturally, your answer was coffee.”

“Wild and crazy, I know. Thanks for meeting me.”

“No problem. Anything specific making you restless, or is it generalized discontent? Or boredom?” Michael asks.

Gerard sighs and looks into his coffee cup. “Nah. Just… my head, you know?”

“Giving you grief?”

“In a weird way. It’s a long story,” Gerard replies.

Michael nods solemnly. “Sounds like I’ll need one of the big coffees, then.”

Gerard waits while he orders one, folding a napkin into squares. When Michael slides back into his seat, Gerard grimaces and says, “This is sort of a poor-me story. Fair warning.”

Michael chuckles. “Lay it on me.”

Gerard tells the whole fucking thing. His brother and the guys know, but this is the first non-family type person he’s told about this. “It’s stupid,” he concludes, head in his hands. “I don’t even know his fucking name. He could be a serial killer. I just…”

“If he’s a serial killer he’s playing a pretty long game,” Michael laughs. “If you’ve been talking as much as you say, you ought to be able to decide if you trust him and if you do, just…lay it out there.”  

Gerard nods. “The thing is, not having the baggage of who I actually am to be a factor has been really nice. I don’t want to scare him off now. What if he’s one of those assholes who hates my band for no real reason?”

“Ah, I see. You want to make sure he’s sufficiently wooed by your stunning personality and intellect.”

“I warned you this was a poor-me story,” Gerard says witheringly.

Michael is still laughing. “Way, take it from someone who met the rockstar and is having coffee with him on a Saturday night. You live up to the hype in lots of ways, but you’re the same kind of weirdo as the rest of us in this biz. He’s not going to judge you for your adventures in eyeliner.”

“Maybe not,” Gerard concedes. “But like. He hasn’t said anything about who he is either. I know he lives in the UK, but not London. That’s it. Maybe we’re just fated to be anonymous friends for all time.”

“Maybe he’s a spy,” Michael offers, thoughtfully. “Maybe he kills people for a living, and you’re the one connection he has left to his humanity.”

“Oh my god, I’m pen pals with Jason Bourne,” Gerard exclaims.

Michael snickers. “There, did I make you feel better?”

Gerard sighs dramatically and then grins. “Yeah. Thanks, dude.”

“Any time,” Michael says. “Are you good? Can we talk about comics now?”

Gerard throws a napkin at him. “Yes.”

Michael grins and launches into a story about a hilarious miscommunication between him and the colorist on the book he’s working on. After that, they talk about the good shit that came out on Wednesday. “You’re reading Joe the Barbarian, right?” Michael asks.

“As if I would miss it. Sean Murphy is hitting it out of the park, isn’t he?”

“He really fucking is. And the writing is great too. Though, can we talk about how even Morrison’s failures are more interesting than a lot of the stuff out there?” Michael says. Gerard has a moment of total defensiveness and he has to laugh at himself a little.

Michael grins, and Gerard squints at him accusingly. “You totally just did that to wind me up.”

“You’re just such a fanboy,” Michael smirks. “Spending all your time on Morrison message boards.”

“I’m a mod,” Gerard huffs.

“That doesn’t make you sound like less of a fanboy, dude,” Michael grins.

“Fuck off,” Gerard says, but there’s no heat in it. “You said it yourself, man, he’s got fucking fascinating ideas.”

“That he does. Anything else on your radar this week?”

“Been obsessed with this band called Sleigh Bells lately,” Gerard says. “Can’t stop listening to their album.”

“Cool. Send me a link later, you always find the good stuff.”

“This one might have been Frank, I can’t really remember,” Gerard admits.

Michael shrugs and says, “You surround yourself with people of excellent taste, I guess.”

Gerard laughs. “I assume you’re including yourself I that?”

“Duh,” Michael replies.

“Frank is extra good at finding new music I’ll like. I dunno how a kid with such a punk, do-it-yourself attitude about music, who has been through what we did with the band, manages to stay so fucking pure-hearted and enthusiastic about music,” Gerard says.

“You find good people,” Michael replies. He raises an eyebrow and Gerard knows what he’s trying to say.

They talk for a while longer, until Michael says he needs to get home for dinner. They say goodbye, and Gerard heads back to his apartment feeling a lot lighter than he’d felt when he’d left it. It’s good. And he managed to not check his phone the entire time he was out. He does now, though.

The bottle of whiskey had a hole in it, Fox writes. There was but one thing to do.

Gerard grins at his phone. Water, he types back. Lots of water. And painkillers, and maybe a banana.

I called room service for a banana. I’m fairly certain the young gentleman who brought it was laughing at me.

Poor Fox, all alone in your hotel room with your room service banana. Gerard is going to fall off his fucking couch laughing.

What a filthy mind, Fox replies. Perhaps my only consolation is that the other partygoers were just as done-in as I was.

That’s good. Being hammered alone is never fun. Are you drinking water? after a beat he adds, Also, are you actually surprised I have a dirty mind?

Absolutely not, Fox replies.And yes. No, reverse those. I must sleep, Danny.

Goodnight, Fox. Keep a glass of water by the bed, just in case. A few minutes later, Gerard gets a reply: a blurry photo of what is clearly a hotel room bedside table, and the glass of water sitting atop it.

Gerard smiles wide and settles onto his couch with his sketchbook. Strange that he’s taking care of someone from thousands of miles away. Or maybe not strange at all.

He doesn’t hear from Fox again before he finishes for the night and puts himself to bed, but that’s not too surprising, considering how late it was UK-time when Fox had fallen asleep.

The next morning, the first thing he does is check his phone. The message from Fox makes him laugh. My feelings upon waking can be best summed thusly: uuuuuggggh. But I believe it would be much, much worse had you not intervened. Thank you, friend.

Thank you for listening to me, Gerard writes back.

Fox sends him another picture message about ten minutes later: a white diner plate with a proper English fry-up, minus the meat. Hangover food. Proud of me? Fox asks.

Absolutely. And now I’m hungry, he replies. Maybe I’ll go out for brunch. Pretty sure I’m even out of pancake mix.

Tragedy, Fox writes back. Are we keeping one another company at restaurants now?

Gerard feels that same pang in the pit of his stomach, and he thinks about his talks with Frank, and Michael. They’d both seemed to think that it wouldn’t be the end of the world if Fox figured out who he was. He doesn’t let himself think too much about it, just replies, Come to Portland sometime, and I’ll take you out for brunch like you’ve never had before.

 Portland. Home of Dark Horse Comics. I feel as if I should have known that. I have heard rumors that Portlanders like their brunch.

 It’s a religion. And a comics-friendly town. Good place to make a name for yourself if you can.

There. It’s not exactly admitting what he does, but Gerard is pretty sure Fox is smart enough to infer. Gerard feels weirdly giddy.

Someday, you’ll have to show me. What made you choose Portland when you moved?

I’ve always loved it. The atmosphere is great, the people I knew through Dark Horse are great, the coffee’s great… He stops typing, unsure of how much further to go. Maybe he’s revealed enough for today.

Coffee is important, Fox replies. I’m glad you’re living somewhere that can provide as much as you need, as often as you need.

Gerard laughs. That’s what it will say on my tombstone, Coffee Is Important.

He is hungry, so he starts getting ready to venture out to find breakfast. There’s a nice little cafe a few blocks away. They have wifi and free refills on drip coffee. Maybe he’ll take his laptop and do some work.

**

Grant figures he’s about as recovered as he can be from the Hangover from Hades when the bottom of his coffee cup stops looking like the most fascinating place in the universe. He’s incredibly thankful for the fact he’s finished with his damned DC meetings, and that he’s not taking the train home until tomorrow morning. He’s also thankful for Danny, and his intercontinental mother-henning.

He’s thankful for Danny full stop. And absurdly pleased that Danny told him a fact or two about his actual life. He’s involved in the comics industry somehow, clearly. Reason enough to withhold them, Grant supposes. Until now.

He contemplates his sketchbook thoughtfully. Why now, though? He supposes their conversations have become more deeply personal of late. Perhaps it’s inevitable. He certainly wants it to be.

Things are. Different if Danny is in the business, he thinks. Maybe he won’t be…maybe…. He sighs, frustrated, because he has no idea what Danny’s reaction would be to discovering who he is.

But…perhaps he can share a few details too. He doesn’t want Danny to think he doesn’t appreciate his disclosures.

 It was raining when I left home. It’s raining here, and it will likely be raining when I get back. I have the unique bad luck to travel most during the spring and summer, when Scotland is at its best.

He deliberates, but decides to leave it at that for now.

 It took me a long time to get used to the grey and the rain of Portland, but I kind of like it now. Honestly, I like the excuse to stay in my apartment.

Hermits, both of us, Grant replies. And if the lines he’s doodling in his sketchbook are shaping into a grey city skyline, rainclouds bursting– well. He smiles. It pleases him in a strange way that they both enjoy the rain.

 I can’t believe you never told me you were Scottish, by the way! I’m half-Scottish. I tell everyone I’m half-Scottish. I mean, fuck, it’s just cool.

Grant laughs aloud, and wavers before just making the obvious joke. Which half is which?

I’m rolling my eyes at you. Just so you know. The half that’s not Italian.

Ach, the fact that you like to talk so much becomes entirely clear.

You know what they say about people in glass houses, Fox, Danny replies.

My house is made of stone, thank you very much, Grant returns. Also I believe what they say is “…are the most shameless exhibitionists.”

That saying must be different in the UK, Danny responds a few minutes later.

Perhaps, but that doesn’t make it any less true.

A minute later, he gets a message with a picture attached. This is the front of my condo. Judge for yourself if I live in a glass house. Grant has to laugh. It’s basically one huge window overlooking a small park.

Are you an exhibitionist then, Danny? Grant writes with a chuckle.

I’m a bit of a performer, comes the reply, and oh, isn’t that interesting?

Grant blows up the picture and studies the bits of Danny’s condo that he can see. He can see the edge of a dining table on one end of the photo and one wall appears to be all bookcase. There’s a comfortable looking leather chair next to the bookcase, angled toward the view. Despite all the glass, it looks cozy. Cozy, but expensive. Grant would love to see the inside.

Biting his lip to keep himself grounded, to remind himself to move slowly, Grant decides that a change of subject may be in both their best interests at the moment. Speaking of performers, he begins, and goes on to tell Danny about a performance he’d seen at the Fringe Festival the previous year.

Danny returns with a story about seeing Bon Jovi in New Jersey one time. I’m sure they put in a decent show in other places, but there’s nothing like a Jersey crowd for a hometown band.

Everyone from New Jersey talks about it the same way, Grant replies. It reminds me of home.

They trade stories back and forth. Grant does his best to avoid anything that he’s talked about in interviews, but that leaves a surprising wealth of material. He talks ancient family history, ridiculous childhood stories, nearly anything that pops to mind. He shares the bad days with Danny, and Danny does the same.

*

One day, Danny is particularly quiet. Grant tries to draw him out with little success. Before he goes to bed, he sends one last message. I’m getting the sense that, for whatever reason, today is a hard one for you. Be good to yourself, friend.

When he wakes up the next morning, there’s a reply waiting. He’s oddly nervous about opening it.

 Two years ago, I was standing somewhere I never thought I’d be. Like, an actual dream come true. And I walked away. I’m not sorry about it, but I can’t help remembering how it felt. Sorry if I was an ass. It was…nice. To have someone to listen to.

Like many of the pieces of information about their lives they share with one another, it’s vague enough that Danny could be talking about anything. And yet, Fox gets the feeling this is one of the most personal things that Danny has told him. Any time, and I mean that, Grant types back.

Thank you, Danny replies. You helped more than I can say. You and the pint of ice cream I picked up from the store.

Well, now I’m a bit upset. I didn’t have any ice cream.

I’d offer to share, but aside from the obvious issue of distance, I may have polished it off last night while watching Labyrinth for the millionth time.

Grant smiles. David Bowie’s outfits being a main draw, I presume?

Maybe now, Danny answers. Then his email turns serious. In high school I was a chubby art kid with lots of Iron Maiden tee shirts. My survival strategy was being invisible. But I had girlfriends, even in art school. I didn’t fall for a guy for real until I was twenty-four.

Grant takes a deep breath and stares at the screen. That’s… personal. It’s probably too much to hope that it’s also pointed, but fuck if Grant doesn’t want to read it that way.

My younger years were full of experimentation. I’d do anything with anyone, just to say I’d done it. I didn’t fall in love with a man, really fall in love, until ten or so years ago. But he was married and then I met the woman I would marry and well. The love I felt for him faded away for a variety of reasons. I hate him now, he admits. I don’t hate her, in fact, I still very much love her. Relationships are…complex.

The answer, when it comes, is equally revealing. The guy I fell for was a good friend; still is. So is his wife. But there are other exes I’d be totally happy to never see again, so I know what you mean. Nothing is ever as simple as it is on paper, is it?

No, it never is, Grant replies. We can only learn from it, I suppose. Though, the lessons can be unimaginably painful.

I hope you haven’t had too much pain, Fox, Danny replies.

Grant thinks about it for a long moment. Then he types, I’ve had my share, but it was worth it to be where I am today.

I’m really glad, is Danny’s reply. I feel the same way about my own life. I don’t really have time for regret. Too many other things to think about and do.

What’s the most exciting thing you’re doing right now? Grant asks.

It takes a while for the answer to come. I’ve been working on a project with a couple of friends of mine, Danny answers. It’s pretty different than the work I’ve done before, but I’m really fucking excited about it. It launches in November, and I can’t fucking wait.

That…was telling. Given all the other things he knows about Danny, he’s pretty sure he can figure out who he is from that. He’s not actually sure if he wants to or not. He supposes he doesn’t have to decide right this second. Instead, he emails Danny back. There’s very little more satisfying than collaborating with people you like and work well together with.

 Oh, I definitely know all about that.

Grant thinks about the script currently waiting on his own computer. Speaking of which, I’m afraid I need to focus in on a project of my own, otherwise my collaborators may come after me with creative implements of torture.

I suppose I can let you get to it, then ;), Danny replies. Good luck!

To you too, Grant replies, setting his phone aside. He’s not going to be able to work on his script. He can’t concentrate on anything but Danny.

He takes a deep, steadying breath, and then another. He goes for a walk instead and leaves his phone on his desk. He’s the one who’s maybe said too much now. If Danny knew who he was, he’d know exactly who it is that Grant hates so much. No one knows that story in its entirety except for Kristan. “Trust,” he mutters to himself.

Mark hadn’t been deserving of his trust. But even with all the reasons that it’s absurd, he thinks that Danny is. He takes a breath. He doesn’t need to borrow trouble. The days are getting warmer and it’s nice to walk when the sun is out.

*

He doesn’t look. Weeks go by and he doesn’t make the searches, pull the strings he knows will get him answers. He just keeps talking to Danny, idle and meaningful and irreverent and sweet in turn. Then he gets an email from his publicist. Mentions of him in the press, mostly pre-San Diego press stuff, most of it interviews he at least vaguely remembers giving; but lost in the forest of links is “Rocker Gerard Way’s Colorful Future” and Grant - stops.

Something vaguely remembered is teasing at the back of his mind. He clicks the link. It’s an article from the Oregonian and the subtitle makes everything suddenly clear. Portland resident Gerard Way talks about life since the breakup of his massively successful band and how going back to his comic book roots has helped him ground himself.

He scans the article for where his publicist has highlighted his name. The ostensible villain of the series is an assassin named Korse, who Way admits is drawn to resemble comic-book scribe Grant Morrison as a kind of homage to his biggest influence.

Grant lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Then, he scrolls back up to the top of the article, and reads it from the beginning.

The quotes from Gerard Way are what really give the game away. This is his Danny. Their words are the same. And the comic sounds like everything he would have expected Danny to write. The thing is, Grant knows this band. He listened to their last album for hours on end when he first started writing Batman. He even remembers when he’d read about their breakup, right after a - massive gig at Madison Square Garden, two years ago. His stomach feels strangely untethered, his insides twisting like snakes.

The pieces of Danny’s life that he’s gathered over the last several months, previously free-floating, slot neatly into place. His reluctance to share personal details makes sudden, perfect sense. His reasons have been the same as Grant’s.  

Well. Grant has the added embarrassment of trolling his own fan board, cannot forget that wee detail.

“Gerard,” he murmurs, trying it out. Before he can talk himself out of it, he does an image search. The majority of the photos are of Gerard Way, frontman; standing on stages all over the world, feet planted, arms raised. He remembers something that Danny had said once, about being invisible, and he can’t help but laugh. He laughs more when he remembers Danny–Gerard–calling himself “a bit of a performer.”

“Only a bit, eh?” Grant asks the man in the picture, the man so clearly in command of his audience. Grant is fascinated. As if he wasn’t before. He clicks over to a new tab and pulls up the video that had been his first introduction to the band.

He watches it again with the knowledge that the man with the white hair is also the man he’s spent the last few months talking to as often as possible. It’s a heady feeling. Danny finally has a face.

And fuck, why not; Grant does another image search, looking for something more recent. He finds photos from late in the previous year of Gerard Way at a signing, hair dyed back to black, smiling at the kid across the table. Grant’s breath catches in his chest. He’s fucking beautiful and his smile makes Grant feel all lit up inside. He can’t imagine what it will be like when it’s actually directed at him.

It doesn’t occur to him until later that if Danny - Gerard - meets Grant Morrison, he’ll have to lose Fox. Grant doesn’t know what to do. Should he come clean, and tell Gerard that he’s put the pieces together?

After a while, he gets so busy, he forgets to think about it and his days seem to revolve around work, preparing for travel, and talking to Danny. To Gerard.

**

Gerard feels like he spends most of the month of June prepping for Comic-Con. Scott wants Killjoys front and center in his fall lineup - not that Gerard blames him, and the third series of Umbrella Academy just gets pushed farther and farther back as Gabriel is more and more in demand - and that means all hands on deck. Meetings at the Dark Horse offices, Skype calls with Shaun and Becky, polishing what they’ve got until it fucking gleams. Gerard’s got permanent butterflies in his stomach.

He’s excited, though. He fucking loves Comic-Con. Loves that it’s a thing he can do every year, now. Loves that he meets new, awesome people every year.

Fox has been busy too, but a few weeks before the con, Gerard emails him. Do you ever go to Comic-Con?

I assume you mean the yearly madhouse in San Diego? Fox writes back. Yes. I’ve been many times.

Are you going this year? Gerard asks. I’ll be there. Maybe we could meet up? Have coffee or something?

I would love that, Fox replies. Before Gerard can reply, a second email comes on the heels of the first. I would, however, understand if you were too busy, or needed to keep a low profile.

My schedule is pretty fucking packed, Gerard replies. But if we can swing it, I’d like to meet.

Then he reads the email again. “Low profile”… does Fox know who he is? His heart kicks at the possibility. He’s dropped enough hints–fuck, this is what he’d wanted.

He can’t quite bring himself to ask. He doesn’t know why. He’s not ashamed of his past as an international rock star. But Fox is important to him in ways he can’t even define at this point. He realizes that this is something he’d rather talk about in person.

Maybe play it by ear? Fox writes back.

Definitely, Gerard replies, relieved. He’s got plenty of other shit to sort out before he leaves for San Diego. But he can’t deny that the butterflies just got a little bit bigger. He takes a deep breath and goes back to what he was doing. An hour later, Fox sends him a news article and they spend the rest of the time Fox is up and awake chatting about it.

Gerard is willing to put it all on the back burner, if only because he’s so fucking nervous about the promo. And Fox seems - not distant, exactly, but distracted. A few days before the con, Gerard writes to him again. Here’s my cell phone number, probably the best way to get in touch with me for the next week. Text anytime.

*

On Tuesday, Gerard’s phone buzzes with a text from an unknown number. Flying is hell.

Always, Gerard answers. Hi, Fox.

Hello. Sorry for the lack of introduction, I had to get that out.

Gerard grins. Understandable. I have done more than my fair share of flying and I hate it basically every time. Time zones, also. Time zones are horrible.

Also jet lag, although I can’t even say I’ve even reached that point, Fox replies. Time to find my hotel and collapse.

I fly in tomorrow. Can’t tell you how glad I am it’s a fairly short flight. For once in my life, Gerard replies.

The next morning he wakes to a brief message from Fox, wishing him a safe flight. You’re up already? Gerard teases.

The meetings have already started, Fox responds. There isn’t enough caffeine in the fucking world.

Gerard frowns. Meetings? He supposes it wouldn’t be surprising if Fox worked in the industry. Scotland is almost as saturated with comics people as Portland. And it would be a good reason for him to want to keep his own anonymity.

I’ll think of you fondly as I drink my in-flight beverage, Gerard writes back.

May the shitty airplane coffee be marginally less shitty, Fox returns.

Gerard forces himself up, gathers his bags together, and goes downstairs to meet the car service he ordered to take him to the airport. His stomach is still full of butterflies and he’s pretty sure they’re just not going to go away.

When he touches down in San Diego, he turns his phone on as soon as they’ll let him. There aren’t any texts waiting, so he sends one. Friendly skies, flown. Can’t decide if my first stop is hotel, coffee, or tacos.

I’m sure there’s a place you can procure both tacos and coffee, Fox replies as Gerard waits for his bag.

"Thank fuck for San Diego, Gerard types, grinning at his phone.

There’s a reason they pay me the big bucks, Fox replies.

 For having the brains to remind your flight-addled friends they have options? Absolutely worth at least a few big bucks.

He does find burritos and coffee, and he sends Fox a triumphant picture. Fox sends him back a picture of a tea service set up in his hotel room, but nothing else for hours.

Gerard checks into his hotel room and texts five million people to see where they are. Scott replies first, so Gerard makes sure he has his all his con stuff together and heads down to the convention center. The floor is already bustling with people getting ready for preview night. Gerard finds Scott at the Dark Horse booth.

“Gerard!” Scott says, sounding pleased. “Come look at the graphic, it’s amazing. How was your flight?” He leads Gerard around the side of the booth to where an entire panel is taken up with Becky’s art.

“It was good. Way better than say, Portland to Japan,” Gerard says. “Or Portland to the UK. And anything is better than the flight to Australia.”

Scott rolls his eyes. “You realize there are only a few people in the world who have been all the places you have, right?”

Gerard grins sheepishly, and Scott claps him on the shoulder, laughing.

“What do you think of your big debut?” he asks, pointing at the poster.

“Shit, it’s gorgeous,” Gerard replies. “Has Becky seen it yet?”

“She and Shaun were in here earlier, and they both freaked out,” Scott confirms.

Gerard takes a picture of it with his phone. He’ll tweet it later if Shaun or Becky haven’t.

“What are your plans tonight?” Scott asks him.

“Nothing? Thought I’d get here and then find out where everyone is hanging out,” Gerard replies.

Scott laughs. “Well, I want to sit down with the three of you and go over some stuff before the madness begins tomorrow. And then maybe take you all out for dinner.”

“Hey, big spender,” Gerard teases, and Scott grins at him.

“Says the guy who can walk into any party he wants,” Scott says, and Gerard snorts.

“No, I can’t. But maybe…” He should call Jim and see if he can get an invite to the DC party.

Scott just laughs at him. “You really can. If you decided you wanted it, you totally could. I know you’ve never been that guy, but you could do it.”

Gerard makes a face at him. Before he can respond, his phone buzzes. He pulls it out of his pocket instantly, but it’s Shaun. Where you at?

Dark Horse booth with Scott.

 Don’t move. We’ll be right there.

“Shaun and Becky incoming,” Gerard reports.

Scott nods, but one of his people calls him over so Gerard goes back to poking at his phone. I like seeing all the booths in disarray, he texts Fox. Makes how everything looks all set up more interesting.

He doesn’t get a response right away, which isn’t surprising given Fox’s radio silence over the past hour or so; he’s probably in another meeting. Gerard deliberates for a moment, and then he’s pulling up Jim’s name in his contacts.

Already busy working the con? he texts.

Feel like I’ve been in meetings for a year already, Jim replies. And they continue all day. You should come to the DC party so I can actually see you.

I guess I’m not doing anything else tonight, Gerard types back, grinning at his phone.

“What are you plotting?” Becky asks from beside him, making him jump.

He grins. “Got an invite from Jim to the DC party tonight.”

Becky laughs at him. “You dog! You’ll give me all the dirt, right?”

“Of course I will, what kind of friend do you think I am?”

She beams at him and pulls him in for a hug. “The best sort, usually.”

“Missed you too,” he mutters against the top of her head. “New York is a fucking long way away.”

“I barely see Shaun, and he’s just across the river,” she replies with a wink at Shaun.

Shaun grins and scrubs a hand through his hair. “I’m all work and no play unless it’s with my kids,” he says.

Gerard smiles and gives Shaun a hug. “It’s good to see you guys. I’ve missed you.”

“You’ll be sick of us by Sunday,” Becky predicts.

“I wasn’t sick of Frank after seven years,” Gerard points out. They both laugh.

“So. Discuss shit now, or wait and do some wandering while we still have the chance?” Becky asks.

It’s Scott who answers. “I still have some things to finish up here, but come back in an hour and we’ll talk.”

Gerard exchanges a look with Shaun and Becky. “Where to?”

“Coffee,” they say in unison.

Scott laughs at them and they go off to find the nearest Starbucks kiosk. This is why he fucking loves Comic-Con. So many things to see and do, friends to hang out with, new friends to meet. As he waits for Becky and Shaun to order, someone taps on his shoulder and shyly asks for an autograph. Gerard smiles wide and scrawls his usual “xoxo g” on the woman’s badge.

They wander around, watching the setup and stopping frequently when they run into people they know. Gerard knows it’s his last chance to wander around without a security person nearby. It’s kind of nice to feel like a normal person for an hour. At least Mehdi still comes out with him for this shit.

His phone buzzes in his pocket and he fishes it out. Oh fuck, save me from this goddam meeting.

Gerard can’t help but beam. I would, except I don’t want you to get in any hot water with higher-ups.

I’m rapidly reaching the point of not giving a fuck, Fox replies.

Think happy thoughts? Gerard offers.

Haha, Fox replies. I’m forcing myself through today, but tomorrow, I want to play hooky and have coffee with you.

Gerard grins stupidly at his phone and replies, YES. Which is, of course, when Becky catches him.

“What’s got you so attached to that thing, anyway?” She prods his side where he’s ticklish.

He squawks and moves away from her. “I. Um. Have an internet friend,” Gerard admits. “We’re planning on meeting tomorrow.”

“An internet friend, huh?” Becky asks, raising an eyebrow at him. Gerard tries, and fails, to school his face into something less giddy.

“Frankie told me about this,” Shaun says, folding his arms over his chest with a matching eyebrow. Gerard’s friends are terrible. “I think that means I’m supposed to threaten this guy Jersey-style.”

Gerard laughs and rubs his cheek with his palm. “Frankie has a big mouth. And if he told you, that’s probably exactly what he intends. But like. We’re just friends. It’s not–” Except that for Gerard, it’s exactly like that.

“Mmm hmm,” says Becky, clearly not buying it.

“If coffee goes well tomorrow, I’ll maybe bring him to the panel,” Gerard says finally.

“And then I can go all Jersey on his ass?” Shaun asks hopefully. “I need the practice for my kids.”

“I’ll help!” says Becky, and she and Shaun high-five.  Gerard buries his face in his hands.

The next time they get distracted, he texts Fox. My friends are giving me a hard time.

In my experience, that’s what friends are for, Fox replies.

 That’s what they tell me. Anyway. I have a meeting and a dinner and then I have to go to a very fancy party and hope I don’t embarrass myself. So if I don’t talk to you again, have a good night!

You as well, Fox replies. We’ll hammer out coffee details tomorrow.

Definitely, Gerard agrees. Tomorrow. He can’t fucking wait.

The meeting and dinner with Scott - for which he manages to also collect Eric and some of the other Dark Horse people, which is cool - goes as well as Gerard could hope for, and when they’re done, Shaun walks back to the hotel with him and they catch up in person for a little while longer. It’s really great to see him. And Becky. He needs to get back east again soon. He misses a lot of people.

When Shaun leaves to go back to his own hotel room and call his wife, Gerard starts rifling through his suitcase. He comes up with a white button-down, a black waistcoat, and dark jeans. Totally fancy, at least for a party of comics people.

He texts Jim, Hope I’m on the list! and goes downstairs before he can get too nervous.

He finds the party easily enough and Jim is standing near the entrance, which makes Gerard’s life easier. “Gerard Way!” Jim waves, and the attendant at the door waves Gerard through.

“Jim!” Gerard beams. “I hope you weren’t waiting for me?”

“Only a little,” Jim replies. “I’ve got some people I want to introduce you to.”

Gerard frowns at him. “I thought you wanted to hang out with me! I see how it is.”

Jim just laughs. “Let’s get you something to drink and see who’s hanging around the bar.” He weaves through the crowd and Gerard follows. “I’d like a Diet Coke and a Jack and Coke,” Jim orders. He hands Gerard the Diet Coke and suddenly Jim waves his hand. “Grant!” he calls.

Gerard’s eyes go a little wide. Because that’s… That’s Grant Morrison, holy fuck. He struggles to keep his inner fanboy from freaking out.

“You two haven’t met, have you?”

“N-no,” Gerard answers automatically. Morrison comes over immediately, eyes sweeping over Gerard, face wreathed with a smile.

“Grant Morrison, Gerard Way. If you two have never met, it’s a crime.”

Gerard smiles and reaches out to shake Morrison’s hand. “Hi. I’ve been a big fan of your work for a long time.”

Morrison shakes back and his smile widens. He really is a fucking attractive man, even more so close up. And his suit is as fabulous as advertised. “I listened to The Black Parade for hours on repeat as I wrote Batman,” Morrison says. “And I fucking love The Umbrella Academy.”

“Your Doom Patrol was a huge inspiration,” Gerard admits. “I’ve always wanted to talk to you about -” He catches himself. “Jim, this was mean, I’m going to totally embarrass myself here and monopolize Mr. Morrison.”

Morrison leans in a bit, conspiratorially. “It’d be a favor to me,” he says, shooting a dark look across the room to a knot of people in suits. “And please, call me Grant.”

Gerard bites the inside of his cheek and grins. “Well, Grant, in that case, I have been reliably informed that I’ll talk someone’s ear off if given half a fucking chance. The Suits will never get the opportunity.”

Grant crosses his arms over his chest. “Do your worst, Gerard Way.”

“I knew you two would get along,” Jim says brightly.

“So did I,” Grant says. Gerard grins wider.

Gerard is pretty sure he talks Grant’s ear off for at least an hour. A couple of times he traces the outline of his phone in his pocket, but there’s no way he’s interrupting this conversation for anything. And Grant gives back as good as he gets. Gerard can’t quite tamp down the giddy thrill in the pit of his stomach, because not only is he talking with one of his heroes, but Grant is familiar with both the band and Gerard’s comics, and has plenty of questions of his own.

They literally spend the entire party talking. Gerard never wants it to end. Jim leaves them to it after a while, and Gerard never does find out who exactly Jim wanted him to meet. Their conversation isn’t without other interruptions either, but Gerard barely notices. He’s just delighted to have made such a connection with one of his heroes.

Fifteen-year-old him is breathing into a paper bag right now. Hell, thirty-three-year-old him is trying desperately to keep his eyes from going too wide. When someone with a camera comes around, Grant wraps an arm around his shoulders for the photo and Gerard tries not to squeak.

Grant grins at him. “I look forward to seeing that all over the Internet tomorrow: ‘international rock star Gerard Way with some bald guy,’” he says with audible air quotes.

Gerard rolls his eyes, though he’s pretty sure he’s blushing. “Yeah, right. ‘Comics superstar Grant Morrison with some emo dude’ is way more likely.”

Grant smiles. “A friendly wager? Perhaps the loser buys the winner coffee?” Gerard opens his mouth, then shuts it again. “No?” Grant asks quietly.

Gerard lifts his chin automatically. “Sure.”

The grin that splits Grant’s face is– fuck. “Tomorrow afternoon? Everyone needs a mid-afternoon pick-me-up,” Grant says.

Gerard smiles back. “Absolutely.” He’ll just arrange for the morning with Fox.

He realizes that if anyone is going to have to end this conversation, it seems it will have to be him. “I should probably call it a night soon,” he says, regretfully. “But it was, fuck, so amazing to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Grant replies with a grin. “I’ve felt as if we were ships passing in the night for several years now. It’s been a pleasure to finally meet you. Let’s meet at that coffee shop down the road at three, yeah?”

“Prepare to buy me a very fancy coffee,” Gerard says dramatically, and Grant laughs.

“We’ll see.” He offers a hand and Gerard shakes it.

He’s pretty sure he grins the whole way back to his hotel room.

**

Grant watches Gerard, Danny, walk away and grins wide. He’s charming and just as articulate in person as he is in his emails. About five minutes later, his pocket buzzes. You know how they say not to meet your idols because you’ll always be disappointed? So not true.

Sometimes not true, Grant corrects. I take it you had an enjoyable evening?

 I had a fucking amazing evening. What about you?

I also had a fucking amazing evening, Grant replies. Good food, good drinks, better company. But I’m looking forward to coffee tomorrow more than I can say.

Coffee twice, Grant thinks with a smirk. As long as he doesn’t fuck up the first.

He’d been idly wondering if he’d run into Gerard this evening, after Danny’s comment about going to a “fancy party.” But he couldn’t have hoped that things would have worked out as perfectly as they had. He slips out of the party and makes his way back to his hotel. Yes, it was the perfect evening. He won’t spoil the rest of the night by staying.

His mobile is lit up when he gets out of the bath after his nighttime routine. What time tomorrow?

 I’ll be able to escape my meetings by mid-morning. Would eleven suit?

That would be perfect, Gerard replies. Near the ATMs by the escalators?

Which ones? Grant texts back with a chuckle.

…Fair, Gerard replies, and texts again a moment later with a specific location, far enough off of the main drag that Grant isn’t terribly worried about being interrupted. Grant is betting he’ll have security with him if he has any sense whatsoever, at any rate. Grant hopes he has security with him, else he’ll start worrying about Gerard’s self-preservation skills.

Perfect, he replies. Sleep well.

You too, Fox, Gerard replies. I really, really can’t wait for tomorrow.

Neither can I, Grant replies and puts his phone down for the night.

He sleeps relatively well and dresses in his grey pinstripe suit for the day. He goes down for a couple of short meetings, chats with fans and fellow creators, but he can’t stop thinking about how in a very short time, all will be revealed.

He’s nervous as fuck, actually. He doesn’t think his worst-case scenario will happen, but it doesn’t stop him picturing it. If this goes badly, he’ll lose someone who’s managed to become one of his very closest friends. Someone, Grant thinks, who could very easily be much more than merely a friend.

When it’s nearly eleven, he takes a fortifying breath and makes his way toward where they agreed to meet. He catches sight of Gerard’s neon hair right away. He’s got a big guy in a black polo standing next to him who he’s chatting animatedly to, but no one seems to have spotted him yet, or else the red hair just blends into the sea of cosplay.

Grant sees the moment Gerard spots him by the way his eyes widen. Grant smiles and walks up to them. “Hello, Danny,” he says. Gerard’s mouth drops open.

“No,” he breathes. The big guy next to him shifts and Gerard lifts a hand, palm out, and says, “It’s fine, Mehdi, just - ” His eyes dart around the lobby and Medhi points.

“Maintenance corridor.”

Grant deems it wise to keep his mouth shut until they get the privacy Gerard is clearly looking for.

“…Fox?” Gerard asks, when there’s a door between them and the bustle of the con. “But- Grant? I don’t-”

“I was having a bad day and lurking the message board, because of course that’s a good idea when you’re having a bad day. And there you were talking as if you had a window into my head, and I couldn’t not talk to you,” Grant explains quietly. “I always wanted to talk to you, and after a while all I wanted was to tell you, especially after I figured you out -” Gerard twitches slightly, though he’d had to have known his own cover was blown for a while - “but best case is, I look like a self-obsessed twat, and worst case you hate me for lying, so -” he shrugs expressively.

“So you wanted to do it in person,” Gerard says, slowly. “I get that. I… had a feeling that you knew who I was, but I didn’t want to ask you about it until we met.” He’s still looking a bit wide around the eyes. “I- you’re Grant Morrison.”

“I am,” Grant replies with a smile. “And you are one of my dearest friends, and I’d dearly like that to continue.”

“We have a date later,” Gerard says. “Um. Or. Not a date, but.”

“Guess we do. If you’ll forgive me for…”

“You didn’t do anything wrong!” Gerard blurts. “You didn’t do anything I didn’t do, I mean, shit, I’m a mod on your board, I -” He’s turning as red as his hair.

“Gerard,” Grant says, testing out the feel of the name in his mouth. He finds one of Gerard’s hands and takes it in his own. “Everything I said last night, about how the things you inspire me? All of that was true.”

Grant sees Gerard swallow. “I…that means so fucking much to me. You mean a lot to me. As Grant Morrison the creator and Fox, my friend from the Internet.”

“Let’s edit that down to ‘my friend Grant,’” he suggests gently.

“Okay,” Gerard says softly. They’re staring at each other. Grant realizes that he’s still holding Gerard’s hand, maybe a little bit too tightly, but he can’t make himself let go. A grin stretches across Gerard’s face. “You’re Fox. Fuck. That’s amazing.”

“Amazing is better than any of the words I expected,” Grant says wryly. He can’t take his eyes off of Gerard. His fucking face…he’s beautiful, especially when he smiles.

“How could it be anything else?” Gerard asks.

“I was mentally prepared for any number of reactions and fully prepared to woo you with the promise of more coffee and maybe a script or two that no one has seen. Also begging, if need be,” Grant replies.

“Maybe I’ll hold out for the scripts,” Gerard said, chin going up in that same gesture from last night. Grant doesn’t think he’s imagining him leaning closer, though.

“Only if you show me this character based on your ‘biggest influence,’” he murmurs.

“Oh my god,” Gerard moans, scrubbing his free hand over his face, cheeks going even redder. “I knew that was going to come back to bite me.”

“I love it,” Grant replies with a big grin. Gerard hasn’t let go of his hand yet. “I seem to recall promising you coffee.”

“I seem to recall promising my friends that if coffee went well, I’d bring you to my panel this afternoon,” Gerard admits.

Grant thinks about his schedule for the afternoon, pleased when he realizes that he’s not got any meetings or panels of his own. “My panel is at five,” Grant says. “So I can accommodate that.”

Gerard beams at him. “Awesome.”

“Assuming coffee goes well,” Grant murmurs.

“Call me optimistic, but, uh. I’m pretty sure it’s going to,” Gerard says. He squeezes their joined hands.

Grant smiles wider. “That was my feeling as well. And don’t forget, we have a bet to settle.”

“I’m thinking of asking for higher stakes,” Gerard says.

“Oh?” Grant asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Maybe dinner and coffee?” Gerard asks hopefully. Grant hopes he’s not imagining the breathlessness.

“Acceptable,” he nods with a small smirk he can’t quite contain. “Now, is your friend in the black polo out there cracking his knuckles or anything like that? It’s been -” Grant feels like it’s been forever, because he hasn’t taken his eyes off of Gerard’s face since he hit the lobby.

Gerard grins. “Nah, it’s fine. He’s been giving me shit all morning because I couldn’t shut up about meeting Grant Morrison last night, or about meeting my internet pen-pal today.”

“I take it the two of you have a history?” Grant asks.

Gerard nods. “He was one of our security guys for several tours. He still comes to help me out when he can.” This is one of the reasons Grant is sure one Gerard Way will be buying him dinner tonight. Needing - and being used to - security guys trailing you everywhere is not in Grant’s playbook.

They should go back out. And, much as Grant is loathe to admit it, they likely shouldn’t be holding hands when they do. He laces their fingers together briefly and forces himself to pull his hand away. “Come on, Gerard Way. Let’s go get some coffee and find somewhere we can continue our conversation.”

“VIP lounge?” Gerard suggests, with the faintest twist of a smirk.

“Glass houses,” Grant replies, watching the smirk blossom and knowing they’re on the exact same page. He opens the door for Gerard and waves him through.

After the quiet of the hallway, stepping back out into the noise of the lobby is a bit of a shock. The man in the black polo, standing next to the door with his arms crossed, gives Gerard an exasperated look.

“Sorry!” Gerard says. The man rolls his eyes as if this is an oft-repeated exchange. “Mehdi, this is Grant Morrison. Who also happens to be Fox.”

“Convenient,” Mehdi says, offering a hand to Grant.

“I think so,” Grant says evenly, because he’s pretty sure Mehdi’s bicep is the size of Grant’s thigh, but he really does think so.

“Me too,” Gerard agrees, beaming. “Now. Coffee?” He sounds so hopeful that Grant has to laugh.

“Coffee,” Grant confirms. “Upstairs.” They walk toward the escalator and Mehdi follows a couple of feet behind. When a group of teenagers approaches Gerard, he steps in to keep them from mobbing him and produces a Sharpie for Gerard to sign with from the depths of his cargo shorts.

Grant stands to the side and watches until someone actually notices him. He poses contentedly for a photo and signs a Batman print someone pulls out of one of those giant bags, and Mehdi sighs and extends his efforts to keeping both of them moving. Gerard looks beyond amused.

“You’re the best,” Gerard tells Mehdi once they’ve made it into the VIP lounge. “I’m buying you the biggest coffee ever.”

“Damn right you are,” Mehdi replies. They go up to the small Starbucks kiosk and order.

Gerard hands Mehdi his coffee and Mehdi points at a chair near one of the doors. “I’ll be over there.”

Grant and Gerard just stare at each other over the tops of their coffee cups for a moment once they sit down. Grant can feel his lips twitching, and Gerard huffs out a laugh. “How long have you known it was me?” Gerard asks him.

“Since I came across your interview with The Oregonian in an pre-con email from my agent. I could have figured it out much sooner,” Grant replies.

“But you didn’t,” Gerard says.

“I…in so many ways, it didn’t matter,” Grant says. “Until it did.”

“I wanted you to figure it out,” Gerard admits. “I mean, not at first? But then talking to you was so good, and I felt like it would maybe be okay.”

Grant smiles. “I never really believed I could find a friend like you on the Internet. I’d seen too many like the arse who posted the thread where we met. I’ve never been happier to be proven wrong.”

“And the embarrassment -”

“I’ve made an arse of myself more times than I can count,” Grant says. “Risk versus reward.” He reaches across the tabletop and nudges Gerard’s fingers with his. Gerard taps Grant’s fingertips with his own once, twice, three times, grinning up at Grant through his eyelashes. Fuck. Seeing photographs hadn’t anywhere near prepared Grant for how stupidly attractive Gerard is.

Gerard takes a deep breath. “I keep thinking about how it was you all along and it’s blowing my fucking mind.”

Grant takes a sip of coffee and does not say anything dirty. What he does say is, “It’s a bit strange, to feel like you know someone before you ever find out their name. But… that made it easier, sometimes. To tell the truth.”

Gerard nods. “It totally did. I can just be…me. With you. I felt like that last night, too.”

“And I liked it. Like it.” Grant looks him over.

“Me, too,” Gerard says softly.

Grant wishes Gerard were closer, that they had a little more privacy. He settles for reaching out to squeeze Gerard’s hand again. “You’ll have to fill in some of the details of some of your stories for me at some point,” Grant says.

“Of course,” Gerard says. “You too, you know. I just want to - listening to you is -” he gets a little pink again.

Grant decides to change the subject, because otherwise they’ll both be blushing. He makes a mental note, though. This is absolutely a discussion they could come back to. He asks about Gerard’s panel instead. Which is the correct choice. Gerard even gets out his iPad and shows Grant a folder full of sketches and concept art. The character based on Grant is immediately apparent. Grant rubs a hand over his own head and grins.

“I also storyboarded a music video for ‘Mama’ in which I wanted you to play the devil,” Gerard says. “It would have cost too much money.”

“I would have said yes in an instant,” Grant says with a grin.

“Yes, that is the perfect expression right there,” Gerard tells him. His eyes are climbing all over Grant and he’s not bothering to hide it. All of the nervousness Grant had been feeling this morning has been completely replaced by warmth low in his belly. He can’t help but beam at Gerard. He can’t quite believe his luck. “What are you thinking?” Gerard asks him.

“I’m thinking about how stupidly fortunate I’ve been, that this is my life,” Grant says, truthfully.

Gerard smiles wide. “Good thing to think about.”

“Particularly,” Grant adds, “Because you are now part of it.”

“I was before too, Fox,” Gerard says with a twinkle in his eye.

“Ah, but now I get all of you.” Grant only barely even attempts to keep the suggestiveness out of his tone. Gerard turns red regardless, which is entirely gratifying. He wonders how much of the remainder of the weekend he can get away with spending with Gerard. He won’t lie; he’s hoping for all of it. He’ll settle for a few meals.

They finish their coffees and keep talking for several minutes, until Gerard makes a face and fishes his phone out of his pocket. It’s buzzing somewhat angrily. He rolls his eyes. “Becky,” he says and answers. There’s a bit of a cacophony on the other end and Gerard laughs. “No, I’m not fucking dead in an alley. Yes, I’m having a good time. The twins? Lunch? Hold on.” He pulls his phone away from his mouth. “Wanna go to lunch with me and my friends?”

“Of course I do,” Grant tells him.

Gerard reports this back to his friend and glances slyly at Grant once he’s hung up. “They’re going to shit themselves.”

Grant grins back. “Well then, we shouldn’t keep them waiting.”

Gerard smiles and stands. He reaches out a hand to help Grant up. He doesn’t let go as he walks toward Mehdi. “Going to lunch,” he says.

Mehdi nods. “Cab or walking?”

Gerard laughs. “Cab, if only so you don’t have an aneurysm.”

Mehdi still walks them to the cab stand, which Grant finds amusing. Gerard seems to expect it, and he waves his phone as they get in and promises, “I’ll call when I’m on my way back for the panel, but I’ll be with Becky and Shaun so…”

“So you’ll be even more likely to wander off chasing a fucking butterfly,” Mehdi tells him darkly. “I’ve met you, Way.”

Gerard laughs. “Fine, fine. I’ll call no matter what.”

“I’ll pretend to be his surly, bald bodyguard should the need arise. I’m nobody away from the convention center,” Grant offers.

Mehdi eyes him. “Scrawny, but it might work.”

“I’m from Glasgow, scrawny is a technicality,” Grant replies with a smirk. Mehdi favors him with the hint of a smile.

“We’ll be fine,” Gerard insists, as he climbs into a waiting cab.

“I’ll believe it when I’m shutting you in a hotel room for the night,” Mehdi says.

A hotel room, huh, Grant thinks.

“He doesn’t really,” Gerard says when they’re on their way, cheeks stained pink. “I don’t get locked in. I’m an adult.”

“I certainly hope so,” Grant drawls.

Gerard looks straight at him, lips parted a little bit. His cheeks are flushed, and he looks determined. “You flirting with me, Fox?”

“I am absolutely flirting with you. Tell me to fuck off and I will,” Grant replies. He is almost certain Gerard will do nothing of the sort.

“That would be really dumb of me,” Gerard smiles, “since it’s all I’ve wanted to hear for months.”

Grant’s grin gets broader. “Me fucking too,” he murmurs, lacing their fingers together and squeezing. Gerard squeezes back. The rest of the ride through the Gaslamp District is short and the cab pulls up in front of a small Mexican restaurant tucked between a chemist and a clothing store. There’s a noticeable lack of costumes, which makes Grant assume it’s enough of a hole-in-the-wall to escape heavy convention business. Also, it’s not the weekend yet. But a large round table in the corner is filled with people who immediately wave at Gerard - then start staring.

Gerard tugs Grant over, muttering, “Sorry in advance.”

Grant laughs. “They don’t scare me.”

“Good. Just…I’m pretty sure Shaun swore an oath to Frank that he’d give you a Jersey-style talking to, so. Watch out for that,” Gerard warns.

Grant laughs. “I’ve given a Glasgow-style talking to, I expect they’re much the same.”

Gerard grins. “Probably.” They keep walking. Gerard doesn’t let go of his hand.

“Well, this is unexpected,” says the redhead Grant assumes is Becky Cloonan.

“Everyone, this is Grant,” Gerard says cheerfully. “Grant, this is everybody.”

“Oh my god, Gerard,” Becky says and laughs. She holds out her hand and introduces herself and the rest follow suit.

“I hope I don’t need to introduce myself,” says a familiar voice behind them.

“Jill,” Grant turns and beams.

“Hullo, Grant,” Jill says, wrapping him in a one-armed hug.

“I’ve missed you, beautiful,” he tells her.

“Always the flatterer,” she replies with a grin and turns to Gerard. “You look like you tripped and fell into an anime. Looks good on you, Gerard.”

“Gerard decided to turn himself into a character from our comic for inspiration or something,” the guy who’d introduced himself as Shaun says. Grant snorts.

“You can’t talk,” Jill warns.  

“I can laugh precisely because I’ve done it,” Grant replies with a grin and runs a hand over his bald head. Everyone laughs, but Grant turns the conversation to Korse and Becky and Gerard are only too happy to go on about him for a while.

“Also, wait until you see Gabriel’s variant cover for him,” Becky says, gesturing at one of the twins.

“I’m familiar with your work,” Grant tells Gabriel. “I’m sure it’s stunning.”

“We’ll have to get you a print,” Gerard says with a grin.

“I would love that,” Grant replies.

No one actually brings up the elephant in the room - or on the message board - other than in sidelong looks and a few jokes, which makes Gerard seem to relax a lot. It’s nice to see him with his friends, but it’s nice to be a part of the conversation too.

Unsurprisingly, Gerard’s friends are a delightful, whip-smart group. He’s fairly certain he’s going to be spending a good amount of time with them over the course of the weekend, and it won’t be a hardship.

They split up after lunch, the twins and Jill choosing to walk back while Gerard, Grant, Shaun and Becky catch a cab as Gerard promised.

In the cab, Shaun turns a stern eye on Grant and says, “So. What are your intentions towards our Gerard?”

Grant laughs, utterly delighted. “To be an excellent friend and companion to him for as long as he’ll let me.”

He can actually see Shaun bite down on an additional question. “You realize that you’re never going to live this down,” Becky says, cheerfully bumping Gerard’s shoulder with her own.

“I’m okay with it,” Gerard replies. “Who else gets to say Grant Morrison was their pen pal?”

“Was?” Grant questions mildly.

Gerard takes his hand and looks up at him meaningfully. “I don’t think it’s still pen-pals if you’ve, like, met,” Gerard tells him.

“As long as you still write me, I don’t care what we call it,” Grant says.

He’s fairly sure the repeatedly clasped hands mean it’s something else entirely, but he’s being a gentleman. Such a gentleman. It’s…difficult. Dinner. Gerard has promised him dinner. What happens after that, well. They’ll see. Grant laces their fingers together again anyway.

“Shaun,” Becky whispers loudly. “They’re being gross.”

“I’m texting Frank. I’m out of ideas for threats, I suck at this,” Shaun mumbles from the middle seat.

“Does Frank know that Gerard is being gross with Grant Morrison?” Becky asks curiously.

Shaun grins at her. “Not yet. I’m trying to decide how to do it. Picture, you think? Or something else?”

“I know where you live,” Gerard tells him, but there’s no bite behind it.

Grant feels his lips twitch and can’t quite control it. “You could let me talk to him,” he suggests smoothly.

Becky and Shaun share matching expressions of unholy glee. Gerard laughs helplessly beside him. “Do it. Troll the fuck out of him.”

Grant doesn’t think he’s ever seen anyone place a phone call so fast in his entire life. Then again, he hasn’t had a mobile for his entire adult life like these three. Gerard thrusts the phone at Grant, and he puts it to his ear just in time to hear a voice with a Jersey accent even thicker than Shaun’s. “Gee?” the voice asks. “I figured you’d be so deep in Comic-Con shit that you’d forget the rest of us exist.”

“He’s in the trenches,” Grant replies. “Fighting the good fight and all that shit. Frank, is it?”

“Who’s asking?” Frank replies.

“Grant Morrison.” Frank’s initial response is a scoff. “Also known as Fox,” he adds.

“Okay, now you’re really fucking with me. Did you lose a bet? Poker game? Gerard’s poker face is nonexistent, can’t be that. And who are you really? A Shrek cosplayer? Come on, you can tell me, I’m a nice boy.”

“I’m quite serious,” Grant says, solemnly. The other three are grinning at him.

“Oh yeah? Prove it.”

“I’m going to have my friend Mr. Simon here send you a picture,” Grant tells Frank and slings an arm around Gerard’s shaking shoulders, squeezing him tight and blowing a kiss at Shaun’s phone.

A moment later, Grant hears, “Holy fucking fuck.”

Grant laughs and the rest of the cab does too. “I did tell you,” he says.

“How in the fuck was he writing to you for months and didn’t have a clue?” Grant looks at Gerard, and tries to think of something witty to say about his own intelligence, but Frank just keeps talking. “Never mind, it’s Gerard, of course he didn’t have a clue. You -” he hauls in a breath like he’s lighting a cigarette or something - “You be good to him,” he says, soft and far less intimidating that Grant had expected.

“I will,” Grant says, equally soft. Sure.

“Good,” Frank replies. “If not, I will fucking come all the way to Scotland or wherever it is you live and make your life hell.”

Grant smiles into the phone. “I have no doubt.”

“Now that that’s over with,” Frank says, “We3 is one of my favorite comics ever.”

“Mine as well,” Grant tells him. “Thank you.”

“Also, you made me like Superman, for which I will never, ever forgive you.” Frank sounds hilariously put out.

Grant laughs. “If it helps, it took me a bit to wrap my head around him and what he stood for.”

“But you did,” Frank says. “You understand - a lot of complicated people.”

“I try,” Grant replies. Gerard taps him on the arm, and Grant looks up to see that they’re approaching the convention center. “We’re about to get back to business. I’ll give you to Gerard,” Grant says. “It was nice to talk to you, Frank.”

“You too,” Frank says automatically, though he does sound a bit stunned.

Gerard takes the phone back. “Hey, Frankie,” he says, and then, “I know! I know, I know. Only me. Okay, I gotta go. I’ll call soon, promise. Love you too. Bye.” Becky and Shaun are still smirking, but Gerard looks different now. More - in command, like the man with the microphone in front of thousands. He smiles at Grant, serene. “Time to go work.”

Mehdi meets them at the cab stand and ushers all four of them briskly through the crowds. It’s rather novel. Not that Grant has never had security with him for anything, but it never feels quite this natural to him.

Scott Allie gives him a double-take when he walks into the staging area for Gerard’s panel, which is sort of gratifying. Gerard, Shaun, and Becky are standing in a tight knot, heads bent close together. Grant smiles and looks out at the crowd. The portion of young women in the audience is certainly higher than most of the other panels he’s been part of. It’s refreshing. He’s very much looking forward to talking with Gerard about his experiences, now that their secrets are revealed.

Gerard in front of a crowd is… incandescent. His smile lights up the entire room. He has the room in the palm of his hand. He makes them cry, makes them laugh, all while making sure Becky and Shaun say their piece as well.

“He’s so good at this,” one of the Dark Horse staffers murmurs.

“A born performer,” Grant agrees softly.

“Suppose it makes sense,” the staffer goes on. “He’s a great writer too. Some people get all the talent.”

She shoots a look at Grant after she says it and he snickers and shrugs.

He can’t take his eyes of off Gerard for the rest of the panel. Fuck, he wants– wants to tangle a hand in Gerard’s hair and pull him close. Wants to mouth at the skin of his throat. Wants to take him back to Grant’s hotel room and do wicked things to him. He smiles to himself. He’s fairly certain Gerard will let him. But one thing at a time.

His mouth twitches with a smile a few times during the Q&A when something out of Gerard’s mouth is particularly…Danny. And he can help his laugh at Gerard’s expression when somebody asks, “Does Grant Morrison know you’ve based a character on him?”

Gerard sneaks a look over at him with a wide grin. “I don’t know, does he?” Then he refocuses on the fan asking the question. “He probably does if he reads the papers.”

“I’m sure he’s thrilled,” Shaun adds, dryly.

Grant can’t help it. He walks up behind Gerard and leans toward the mic. “He is, thank you.” The whole crowd laughs and cheers. Grant waves and goes back to where he was standing. Becky takes over the mic and starts talking about character design, and Grant’s phone buzzes a second later.

 Exhibitionist.

He huffs out a laugh and responds, Glass houses.

Gerard gives no indication that he’s doing anything other than listening attentively to Becky. Grant fucking adores him.

The Q&A ends after two more questions. Grant watches as the kids come up to talk to the three of them. They stand there signing autographs and answering questions until a con staffer speaks to Mehdi and he moves in to get them. Becky breaks off from the rest of them to go back to her booth, but Mehdi deposits Shaun and Gerard, along with Grant, in the closest VIP green room.

“That was fucking amazing,” Gerard says. Shaun goes in for a high five, and then the two of them hug.

“From an outsider’s perspective, I thought you were all wonderful,” Grant tells them. “The first thing I noticed about the room was how diverse the crowd was, and they loved you.”

“I can’t fucking wait for November,” Shaun says, grin splitting his face.

“It’s gonna be great,” Gerard says confidently.

“I am more than certain that it will,” Grant says. “And I can’t wait to see the finished product.”

“You don’t have to wait,” Gerard says. “You’ve got an in.” He pours himself a cup of coffee from the bar in the corner. “So your panel is next.”

“It is,” Grant agrees. He fishes his phone out of his pocket and checks the time. “I have some time. You’ll come?” Grant asks. He doesn’t want to let Gerard out of his sight. Not yet.

“We both will,” Shaun says, “if that’s okay?”

“Absolutely,” Grant says firmly.

Gerard beams at him and reaches over to take his hand again. “And then we have a bet to settle.”

Gerard smirks. “You mean you have a bet to lose.”

“We’ll see,” Grant tells him, smirking back.

Gerard leans close and holds out his phone to take a picture. “Selfie Friday,” he explains with a smile.

Grant laughs. “Twitter is too much pressure for me.”

“You gotta make it work for you,” Gerard tells him sagely, tapping at his phone. “I can say that because it took me a long time to actually use it. Finally I just said ‘fuck it’ and jumped in.” He looks up and smiles. “There.” He holds up his phone so Grant can see the picture.

“Gerard Way, International Rock Star, and some comics bloke,” Grant jokes.

“Whatever,” Gerard says, smiling down at his phone.

Grant rather desperately wants to kiss him. “You don’t believe me?” Grant pulls out his own phone and opens up his Twitter app. Gerard makes a show of tapping his fingers and checking the time as Grant navigates through the process of retweeting the photo, and Grant has to try hard to keep a straight face. “You have ten times the followers I do, mind, but we shall see.”

“You’re on,” Gerard agrees.

Shaun just laughs. “You’re both ridiculous. Though, for the record, my money is on Grant.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Shaun, but you’re not invited to dinner,” Gerard says.

Shaun pats Gerard’s cheek companionably. “I think I’ll survive.”

Gerard rolls his eyes, but his cheeks have gone pink. It only makes Grant want to kiss him more.

“I have a meeting to get to,” he says sadly after a moment. “You’ll come to my panel?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Gerard promises.

Grant stands and squeezes Gerard’s shoulder. “See you later, love.”

Shaun starts laughing before he’s even out of the room. Grant suppresses a smile.

**

Gerard watches Grant leave, aware that he’s probably smiling like an idiot but unable to muster up any ability to care. Shaun is laughing at him and he doesn’t really care about that, either, but he kicks Shaun in the shin anyway.

“Ow,” Shaun complains. “You gotta admit it’s a little funny, though.”

Gerard concedes the point, because, well. “This is kind of the greatest day,” he says, slinging an arm across Shaun’s shoulder.

Shaun grins and squeezes back. “I’m pretty fucking stoked on my life and I’m a little jealous of yours. Only you, Gerard Way. Only you.”

Gerard ducks his head and scrubs a hand through his hair. He’s really, really looking forward to seeing Grant’s panel. And to dinner. And… whatever comes next.

“So. Is this, like, serious?” Shaun asks.

“I don’t know,” Gerard replies. “It feels like it might be? But I don’t know for sure.”

“Guess you can take your time,” Shaun says, but he sounds dubious. Gerard can play a long game, but he’s really not all that good at being patient. In this case, he’s pretty sure he’s not going to have to be. Grant had been pretty forward, back in the cab.

“Guess so. He’s already my best friend, though. So like. I don’t know. We’ll talk and shit. Maybe even tonight,” Gerard says.

Shaun is still shaking his head. “Only you.”

“You love me,” Gerard says, laughing.

“I do, my friend. But ridiculous, amazing things happen to you,” Shaun replied.

“Call me crazy, but I’m okay with that,” Gerard tells him.

Scott tracks them down eventually, and they debrief about the panel a little bit. Then Scott gives Gerard shit for surprising him with “Grant fucking Morrison, Way, warn a guy next time, especially if he’s going to be a special guest.”

“In my defense,” Gerard says, “I had no idea that would happen until eleven this morning.”

Scott stares. “Eleven was your coffee meeting with your online pal.”

“Yes, it was,” Gerard murmurs. And waits.

“You are fucking kidding me,” Scott says, flatly.

“He’s not,” Shaun says. “His life is exactly that charmed and absurd.”

Scott tugs at his fringe. “Of course it is. Oh, Gerard.” Gerard just grins, aware that he’s probably blushing. Again. Dammit. Scott laughs and squeezes his shoulder. “Well, I’m glad it clearly went well.”

“Me too,” Gerard says fervently. So fucking glad he hardly knows what to do with himself. Gerard checks his watch. “I’ve got a panel to catch,” he says with a grin.

“Me too,” Shaun reminds him. “Let’s go.”

Predictably, the room for Grant’s panel is completely packed. Gerard peers out from the staging area in awe. It’s a much bigger room than the one Gerard’s panel had been in. There’s a higher percentage of dudes, but a not-insignificant number of women too. They all look as thrilled to be here as Gerard is. Well, maybe not quite.

Grant is standing at the other side of the staging area, head bent together with someone Gerard doesn’t recognize. Gerard stands back and watches him. He’s amazed at how familiar Grant feels to him. Having a conversation, yeah, that makes sense. But Grant’s physical presence feels normal to him as well.

Actually, most of the time it feels fucking distracting. He’d felt it last night, even when he hadn’t known that Grant was Fox. Now, it’s ten times more intense. He likes it, though. Likes it a lot. He wonders if Grant feels it too.

Okay, he doesn’t really have to wonder about that.

Across the room, Grant straightens up and turns. He lights up when he sees Gerard, and Gerard’s breath catches. Grant comes over to them immediately. “So glad you’re here.” He smooths a thumb over Gerard’s cheekbone. “Enjoy.”

Gerard catches Grant’s hand before he can pull away and squeezes their fingers together. Grant smiles at him. “Break a leg,” Gerard says.

Grant nods and stands there for a few more moments while he’s introduced. Then he takes a deep breath and bounds up onto the stage. The crowd fucking screams.

Gerard beams and spends the next hour listening to Grant talk, listening to every amazing thing that comes out of his mouth. Sometimes it’s touching and sometimes the entire room roars with laughter. Once or twice Gerard is pretty sure Grant is talking about him.

It strikes him all over again as he watches; Grant is Fox. The intelligent, hilarious, insightful man who’s become one of his very closest friends over the course of the last several months… is one of Gerard’s heroes. It’s a heady and incredible feeling. All Gerard can do is stand back and feel so fucking proud of and amazed by his friend.  

“Your face is really dumb right now,” Shaun tells him. “Like, in a sweet way. I can’t believe I just said that.”

“Shut up,” Gerard says, but his heart’s not really in it.

Grant answers audience questions and when the moderator indicates the end of the panel, he signs things and answers questions for several minutes. He glances offstage at them several times, and Gerard just grins and chats with Shaun.

Finally, Grant makes his way off the stage and back into the staging area. He doesn’t come over right away; there are people back here waiting to talk to him, too. Gerard tries to be patient. He can tell he’s failing when Shaun elbows him in the ribs. “You’re staring.”

“Do you blame me?” Gerard says.

“Nah, guess not,” Shaun laughs.

Finally, Grant takes his leave of everyone talking to him and comes their way. Gerard beams at him.

“Thanks for waiting,” Grant says. “That was a bit mental at the end. Nothing like yours,” he laughs.

“Whatever, big shot,” Gerard teases. “You were fantastic.”

“Thanks,” Grant says, running his hand over his head. It’s not quite a nervous gesture, but it’s in the same family and Gerard finds it completely endearing.

“What next?” Gerard smiles.

“I told Becky I would go bother her at her booth,” Shaun says. He holds out his hand for Grant to shake. “Great panel, man. Thanks for the invite.”

Grant smiles and shakes his hand. “I’m sure I’ll see you again over the course of the weekend.”

“Bet you will.” Shaun chuckles and squeezes Gerard’s shoulder and leaves the two of them alone. Well, not alone; there are still at least a dozen people milling around the staging area. But fuck if the way Grant is looking at him doesn’t make Gerard feel like he and Grant are the only two people here.

“So,” Grant says. “I’m mostly free the rest of the evening.”

“When’s the not-free part?” Gerard asks.

“I should put in an appearance at the Image Gala tonight,” Grant replies. “But other than that…”

“I could go with you?” Gerard offers, then adds, “Or you could skip it. We could just. Hang out.”

“I’d probably enjoy it, but I think I’d enjoy being with you more,” Grant says.

Gerard takes a deep breath, trying to settle the butterflies in his belly. “Then… We should see who’s buying who dinner.”

“What’s the best way to do that, do you think?” Grant asks.

“Retweets? Google ourselves for the last twenty-four hours and see whose name pops up in the search for the other more?” Gerard suggests. “Also see what the photo services have to say. Pretty sure that was a pro, not some random DC staffer.”

“Sounds like a lot of work. Coffee?”

“Always coffee,” Gerard agrees.

They make their way to the nearest VIP room and while Grant gets them coffee, Gerard pulls out his iPad and starts checking. And starts making more and more dismayed faces at his screen. “What the fuck.”

Grant leans over to put a cup of coffee in front of him and stays there. “You’re losing, aren’t you? You young, pretty thing, how shocking,” he murmurs in Gerard’s ear.

“But - you’re Grant fucking Morrison!” Gerard is aware that he sounds kind of petulant, but.

“But you are Gerard Way. Far more people in this world know your face, love,” Grant says with a smile.

“Well, I can afford to buy you dinner, anyway,” Gerard concedes.

Grant reaches over to pat his shoulder consolingly; Gerard catches Grant’s hand in his own. “It won’t be a hardship,” Gerard admits. “Even if I do think you should be way the fuck more famous than me.”

Grant just smiles at him. He seems perfectly happy with the outcome. To be honest, Gerard is, too.

“So. Where are we going?” Gerard asks. “I’m into anything.”

“Let’s go up to Old Town, find someplace quiet, yeah?” Grant murmurs.

“Yeah,” Gerard agrees. He feels like the air between them is crackling, charged. He almost wants to skip dinner, go straight to one of their rooms. But they have a bet to settle and he is getting hungry again.

“D’you need to let your Mehdi know you’re leaving? Or anyone else?”

“I’ll call him,” Gerard says, tucking away his tablet and pulling out his phone. He makes the call and Mehdi doesn’t even harass him that much. Gerard knows he’ll get it later, though. “Let’s find someone to get us a cab,” Gerard says.

It’s not quite as easy as that- they get stopped a few times on their way out, mostly by people they know. But soon enough they’re in a cab, and Grant is directing the driver towards Old Town. It’s a fucking gorgeous evening. But then, it’s San Diego. That’s not really a surprise.

They’re still not alone, but Grant’s warm fingers cover his. It’s good.

“I’m still having a hard time fucking believing this,” Gerard murmurs, as they watch San Diego going past the cab windows.

“Magic is like that,” Grant replies seriously. Gerard fucking believes him. “It’s easier to just believe. It’s fucking punk to believe. Everyone expects the terrible things. I choose to accept the great ones.”

Gerard really, really wants to lean in and press their lips together. It would be so fucking easy, and he knows, knows that Grant would kiss him back. He wants, but he knows if he starts, he won’t want to stop for a long fucking time. So he squeezes Grant’s hand in his.

“What does your weekend look like?” he asks.

Grant huffs. “Busier than I would like. Today was the eye of the storm, relatively speaking.”

“We’ll work around it,” Gerard says. “I have a signing tomorrow. And another the next day. And I promised to help man the booth for a while.”

“I have plenty to do myself,” Grant chuckles. “But we ought to compare schedules.”

The cab lets them off in Old Town, and they wander around for a few minutes before deciding on a little Mexican restaurant tucked out of the way in a corner. There’s a candle on the table and the whole thing is terribly romantic. Gerard grins at Grant over the table.   “Hope this is an acceptable prize,” he says.

“More than,” Grant agrees. “This is- it’s perfect, Gerard.”

Gerard smiles broadly at him and reaches across the table to take his hand. “What I really want to know is if a bet payment can count as a first date.”

Grant laughs, interlacing their fingers. “As long as it’s the first of many, I think.”

“That’s pretty much guaranteed,” Gerard replies.

Grant smiles. “Do you mind if I have a drink, love?”

“Not at all,” Gerard says, because it’s true. He trusts himself, and he trusts Grant, too.

Grant gets a Mexican beer and Gerard orders a Diet Coke. They keep holding hands. They keep talking, too, some about friends they share or friends they think they ought to share. Some about San Diego. And some conversations that they’d started months ago, back as Danny and Fox, and have been carrying on periodically ever since. It’s different but so fucking amazing to not have to wait for a response, to see Grant sitting across from him as they talk.

Gerard is pretty sure Grant is right. Magic is the only thing that can explain this. He loves the sound of Grant’s voice, the way he talks with his hands, the way he smiles.

When the food arrives, Gerard finds himself very unhappy about having to let go of Grant’s hand.

Grant laughs at him. “Tacos, Gerard. You want to eat them.”

“I do.” Gerard looks at them sadly, then at Grant.

“I’ll be here,” Grant promises.

Gerard laughs a little because he’s being ridiculous and he knows it, and lifts his taco to his mouth to take a bite. They enjoy their food silently for a few moments and then start talking again. Gerard is pretty sure they’re never going to run out of things to say to each other.

They eat. Grant has another beer, Gerard a spicy and amazing cup of coffee. Grant notes the time, but shows no regret at missing the night’s party. They linger over coffee and dessert for a long time, until Grant finally says, “Well, I am prepared to consider this bet more than satisfactorily settled. And… I think we should go back to the hotel now.”

The way he says it makes Gerard shiver. He takes a deep breath, nods, and gestures for the check. As he’s writing out the tip and signing his name on the credit card slip, Grant squeezes his thigh. He jumps. This isn’t the innocent hand-holding from before.

“Too much?” Grant asks quietly.

“Fuck, no,” Gerard says vehemently. “This is- I’ve been waiting for months.”

Grant smiles softly at him. “As have I. Let’s go.”

Gerard pulls out his phone and calls for a cab. As they wait near the entrance to the restaurant, Grant pulls Gerard into his arms.  

“Is this where you kiss me?” Gerard breathes.

“Is that all right?” Grant asks. Gerard sees him dart a look out into the night, the people walking past.

Gerard nods. “Well, I might explode if you don’t.”

Grant laughs softly. “In that case…” He cups Gerard’s cheek in his hand and leans down to kiss him softly. Gerard sighs and lets his eyes slip closed, reaching up to rest his hand on the back of Grant’s head. It starts slow and soft and Grant’s fingers slip under the hem of his shirt to stroke the skin of his back. Everything about it is gentle, but in a way that promises later won’t be.

Grant’s hand finds the small of Gerard’s back and rests there. Gerard gasps into Grant’s mouth. “Where’s that damn cab?” Gerard murmurs against Grant’s lips.

“Don’t much care,” Grant replies.

“I want to be touching you,” Gerard says. “The kind of touching I can’t do right here because of public indecency laws.”

Grant laughs. “I understand. Soon.”

“Months, Fox,” Gerard says. “Months.”

“I know. You aren’t the only one who’s been counting.” Grant pulls back and swipes his thumb against Gerard’s palm. “Did you think about me?”

“So much,” Gerard admits. “And not just… I wanted you to be where I was, you know?” Grant smiles and pulls him closer until their hips are together. Gerard gasps.

“I do know.”

The cab arrives. Gerard is about ready to kiss the driver, but he settles for curling against Grant instead. Grant wraps an arm around Gerard’s waist and presses a kiss to his temple. Gerard leans into him. The ride back to the hotel is both the longest and shortest of his life. “Schrödinger’s cab ride,” he mutters to himself.

“I don’t think that’s what that means,” Grant laughs.

“Whatever,” Gerard huffs. “You know what I fucking mean, Mr. Quantum Mechanics.”

Grant smiles and kisses his cheek as they pull up in front of the hotel. “I know precisely what you mean.” He settles the cab fare then follows Gerard into the hotel and into the elevator.

Of course, because it’s Comic Con, there are already six people in the elevator. One man’s eyes go wide when he sees Grant, but he doesn’t approach them. Gerard can see the hints of a smile around the corners of Grant’s mouth, but they play it cool and just get off the elevator on Gerard’s floor.

Gerard is good; he only fumbles his key card once. And then they’re through the door, and it’s closed behind him, and that is fucking it. He pushes Grant against the wall and kisses him like he’s been wanting to, with tongue and teeth on his bottom lip and hands under his suit jacket.

Grant gasps and pulls him in, letting Gerard press against him, push a knee between his thighs. “Fuck,” Grant moans, hands coming up to cup Gerard’s ass.

Gerard rolls his hips against Grant’s and tugs his shirt out of his trousers. He kisses him hard, like he’s never going to stop. (He might never stop.) Grant tries to get Gerard’s jacket off of him but they’re both all fumbling hands, so eventually they pull apart. “Fuck,” Gerard gasps, panting into the hollow of Grant’s throat.

“My thoughts exactly,” Grant murmurs. “Gerard, let me undress you.”

“I get to return the favor,” Gerard says, firmly.

“Of course,” Grant replies.

Gerard reaches up to slide Grant’s suit jacket off his shoulders. “You always look so good in these,” he murmurs. “I always thought so.”

“Always?” Grant asks softly.

“I’ve been attracted to you since the first time I saw you,” Gerard says.

“When was that?” Grant asks, helping Gerard with his cuff links.

“Fuck, I don’t know,” Gerard murmurs. “Long time. First time I saw you in person was while you were writing The Invisibles. I was an intern at DC and you came in wearing the full King Mob deal. It was fucking amazing,” Gerard explains.

Grant’s cheeks go pink. “That was so long ago.”

“Didn’t matter. Doesn’t. You’re fucking gorgeous, Grant.”

“I liked going into the offices feeling like I was king of the world,” Grant confesses with a smile. Gerard starts working on the buttons of his dress shirt.

“I’m pretty sure you still are,” Gerard murmurs. He leans in to kiss Grant’s chest as it’s exposed.

“You make me feel like it,” Grant says softly.

Gerard lifts his face to smile at Grant. Grant puts his hands in Gerard’s hair and leans in to kiss him again. Less frantic this time, but soft and fucking intense. When he breaks it off, he tries again and this time Gerard stands docilely while Grant strips off his jacket and shirt. He makes a little involuntary noise when Grant continues on to his jeans.

“Soon, love,” Grant promises, slowly drawing down the zip. Grant pushes his jeans down his thighs and crouches down to take off his shoes and socks and pull his jeans the rest of the way off. He kisses Gerard’s thigh, and Gerard whimpers a bit and tugs at his shoulders.

“C’mon, c’mon,” Gerard murmurs.

Grant slides his hands over Gerard’s shoulders and down his chest. “You are so fucking beautiful,” Grant murmurs.

“I, I -”

“You know you are,” Grant adds softly. “You’re used to people looking at you.”

“Not when they’re you,” Gerard gasps.

“I intend to give you plenty of time to get used to it,” Grant promises.

Gerard smiles. He feels weirdly shy and he fucking knows he’s blushing. He takes a breath and tugs Grant back until they get to the bed. He sits and puts his hands to Grant’s button and zip. Finally.

Grant bends down to bite at Gerard’s ear, gently. Gerard gasps. He takes a breath and pulls Grant’s pants down. Grant toes his shoes off and steps out of them. He sits on the bed next to Gerard and peels off his socks. He’s completely unhurried about it all, and Gerard is so nervous he can feel his pulse in his throat.

“Hey,” Grant murmurs, tugging Gerard up towards the pillows. “Come here, love.” Gerard settles into his arms. His skin is warm and he’s looking at Gerard in a way that makes him swallow hard. “I’m nervous too,” Grant tells him. “I’d never even thought to imagine this.”

“I’m so fucking glad we’re here,” Gerard says, hiding the words in the skin of Grant’s throat. Grant strokes Gerard’s hair behind his ear and slides his hand down to cup his shoulder. Gerard presses his lips to the underside of Grant’s jaw.

Grant hums and slides his hand up and down Gerard’s arm, then pulls Gerard on top of himself. Their cocks line up, and both of them moan. Gerard wants their briefs off right the fuck now, but he doesn’t want to move. He settles for rolling his hips against Grant’s and sucking at the base of his neck, just below his collar line.

“You ought to make it higher,” Grant rumbles. “So I can walk around knowing everyone is wondering who’s been giving me lovebites.”

“Exhibitionist,” Gerard murmurs.

“Glass-” Grant begins, but Gerard bites him a little harder and he trails off on a moan. Gerard would smile if he weren’t so busy sucking a hickey into Grant’s neck. Well above the collar line. He can’t deny he likes the thought of people wondering who marked Grant like that.

Grant settles his hands onto Gerard’s ass and urges him to keep moving. Not that Gerard needs much in the way of urging.

They move together for a minute and then Gerard pulls himself away. He gets rid of his briefs and reaches for Grant’s. Grant lifts his hips and Gerard slides them down his legs. He can’t help fucking staring, once he gets them down. “Jesus fuck.”

Grant props himself up on his elbows and smirks. “Is this where I ask if you see something you like, love?”

Gerard laughs. “I see many things I like a whole fucking lot.”

“How would you like them?” Grant asks, oh so politely.

“Hmmm,” Gerard murmurs, ducking his head down to mouth along Grant’s chest.

Grant puts his hands in Gerard’s hair. “That’s not an answer, but I’ll take it.”

Gerard gets his lips wrapped around a nipple and sets out to make Grant moan. It doesn’t take long. Grant is gratifyingly vocal, and he twists his fingers lightly in Gerard’s hair to hold him where he is. Gerard keeps licking and sucking. Grant only gives him enough leeway to switch to his other nipple. Gerard is fine with that. He can feel Grant’s cock against his belly. He’s as hard as Gerard is, now. Fuck if Gerard isn’t drooling.

“Have you decided what you want, love?” Grant rasps.

“I wanna suck you,” Gerard replies immediately. He shoots a look up at Grant, who’s smiling. The fingers in Gerard’s hair tighten, then release.

“Whatever you like, love,” Grant says.

“I fucking like,” Gerard replies and moves down Grant’s body. He kisses Grant’s soft stomach and the jut of his hipbone, shifting to take the head of his cock in his mouth.

Grant gasps, head falling back against the pillows. Gerard feels really fucking smug for a moment before taking more of Grant into his mouth. He tastes good and he’s stretching Gerard’s lips just right. This is one thing Gerard knows he’s fucking good at. It’s more gratifying to do this for Grant than it usually is; Grant is gorgeous, flushed, fingertips catching on the sheets.

Gerard brings his hand up to wrap around the base of Grant’s cock. He shifts his hips against the mattress just for a little bit of friction. He could get off on this, easy. He goes down further, taking Grant in until his lips meet his fist.

“Fuck,” Grant moans. “Oh, fuck me, you’re really fucking good at this.”

Gerard presses his tongue against the base of Grant’s cock and squeezes his hip with his free hand. He drops down to mouth gently at his balls, too, then noses back up his shaft to lick along the underside, being deliberately teasing this time. He loves everything about this: the smell, the taste, the feeling of Grant underneath him.

Gerard takes Grant’s cock in his mouth again. This time, he goes down as far as he can, until he’s swallowing around the head of Grant’s cock. He still doesn’t have Grant all the way in. Clearly he’ll have to practice. Gerard is okay with practicing. Repeatedly. He moans quietly, happily, and starts to bob his head.

Grant keeps up a steady stream of encouragement, moaning and swearing and running his hands over Gerard’s hair. Gerard pulls off giggling hoarsely a few moments later. Grant gives him a look that’s half amused, half impatient. “Sorry,” Gerard gasps. “Just. In the comments of one of my interviews, someone asked, ‘Could he be sucking Morrison’s cock more?’”

“At the moment?” Grant drawls. “Yes. With an option on fucking now and getting back to the cocksucking later.”

Gerard licks his lips. “You wanna fuck me, Grant?”

“Fuck, yes. Get the fuck up here,” Grant growls. Gerard grins and takes his time about it, feeling wicked. He wraps his hand around Grant’s cock and strokes. He moves up slowly, kissing his belly, his scar, his chest. When he finally gets to Grant’s mouth, Grant’s eyes are practically black.

Gerard dips his head down to claim a kiss, light and teasing, biting at Grant’s lips until Grant growls again, fisting his hands in Gerard’s hair and pulling him down properly.

Gerard moans against his mouth. “Grant,” he gasps.

“Do you have condoms?” Grant asks.

“I…yes,” Gerard says, turning red. “I brought some.”

Grant chuckles against Gerard’s throat, voice husky when he says, “You were hoping for this, hm? I was, too. So fucking much.”

“I didn’t even know if we’d be attracted to each other or if we’d get along in person. But fuck, I hoped. So much,” Gerard replies.

“Do you date much?” Grant asks, running fingers through Gerard’s hair, rubbing gently at the shaved sides.

“Not for a while,” Gerard admits. His eyes slip shut at the feeling of Grant’s fingers carding through his hair, and he practically has to bite back a croon. Grant clearly notices, because he chuckles again. “For a long while,” Gerard adds. “Meeting people is complicated for me.”

“I understand,” Grant murmurs and leans in for a kiss. “Get me the stuff,” he whispers against Gerard’s lips.

“You’ll have to let me go first,” Gerard reminds him, teasingly.

“I suppose,” Grant replies and gives him another kiss before releasing him. Gerard gets up and grabs the stuff from his suitcase.

Gerard stretches out on his side next to Grant and balances the lube and a condom on Grant’s stomach.

“Oi,” Grant says, frowning down at him.

“What?” Gerard asks innocently.

“Some audience participation, if you please,” Grant replies. Gerard smiles and grabs the condom. He tears open the wrapper and leans up on his elbow to slowly roll it down Grant’s cock. The little noise Grant makes when he does it makes his stomach flip. Gerard grins and presses the lube into Grant’s hand. “Get me ready?”

Grant smiles back and leans down to kiss him. “It would be my pleasure.” He moves down the bed and settles between Gerard’s spread legs. He goes quickly, sinking one slick finger in to the second knuckle and thrusting it at an even pace.

Gerard moans. It feels fucking incredible; “Grant,” he pants.

Grant kisses the top of his thigh and slides a second finger in next to the first. It’s maybe a little fast, but Gerard wants Grant in him.

“Is this-” Grant begins, and Gerard gasps “yes” and rocks back against Grant’s fingers, just in case he’s getting any ideas about stopping or slowing down.

Grant wraps his free hand loosely around Gerard’s cock and crooks his fingers to drag over Gerard’s prostate as he thrusts them.

Gerard moans. “Fuckin’ - more.”

“Whatever you like,” Grant murmurs, and he teases at Gerard’s hole with a third finger. Gerard gasps and writhes, hands clenching in the sheets. “Impatient,” Grant chides, laughing softly as he slides the third finger in beside the first two.

“You have no fucking idea,” Gerard moans. “Fuck. Please.”

Grant moves fast, when he finally decides to move - withdrawing his fingers and pushing Gerard’s thighs apart, only pausing when the head of his cock is snugly pressed against Gerard’s ass.

“Now,” Gerard gasps, grabbing for Grant’s hand and lacing their fingers together. Grant’s other hand finds Gerard’s hip, and Gerard moans loud and long as Grant presses inside of him.

“Gerard,” Grant gasps in his ear. “Oh, fuck.” He sounds undone, but he keeps his hips steady and slow.

“Please, Fox,” Gerard whispers. He feels electric, needy, shaken, as undone as Grant sounds, but there’s one person who can give him what he needs.

Grant chants a low, steady stream of filth into Gerard’s ear, fucking into him over and over again. Gerard arches and writhes and gasps. He’s probably making too much noise, but fuck, he doesn’t give a shit, it feels too good. He wraps his arms around Grant, grips his shoulders instead of the sheets.

“My Danny,” Grant whispers in his ear.

“Yes,” Gerard moans. “Fuck, touch me.”

Grant doesn’t waste a second, hand sliding down from Gerard’s hip to wrap around his cock. Gerard moans and thrusts his hips up into Grant’s hands and then back against his cock.

“That’s it,” Grant rasps, “More. Again. Come for me.”

“Almost there,” Gerard tells him, eyes closing against the wave he can feel building in the pit of his belly. They keep moving. Gerard pulls Grant’s head down for a desperate kiss just as he starts to come. He moans into Grant’s mouth, fingers tightening, and Grant speeds up his thrusts, sloppy and desperate.

Gerard doesn’t have any more words; he just moans, over and over, riding the aftershocks of his own orgasm and panting against Grant’s lips. Grant thrusts hard one last time and comes, moans muffled against Gerard’s mouth.

Gerard chases his tongue, kisses him until neither of them can breathe, until Grant is slumped heavily over him.

“Darling,” Grant murmurs in his ear, tightening his arms around Gerard’s waist. Gerard swallows and tightens one arm around Grant and slides a hand up to cup the back of Grant’s head. His body is humming, spent. In awe of what just happened.

They lie together for long moments. Gerard takes a deep breath, and then another. He turns his head and presses his lips to Grant’s cheek. “God,” he mumbles.

“Not last time I checked,” Grant jokes.

Gerard huffs out a laugh against Grant’s shoulder. This is Fox in his arms. Grant. It’s blowing his mind a little bit.

“This would have to happen the busiest weekend of the year,” he sighs.

Grant is quiet for a moment. Then he says, a bit hesitantly, “I… had been thinking. About perhaps not returning immediately to Scotland, after the convention.”

“Wanna come back to Portland with me?” Gerard asks. “I bet you’d like it.”

“I’d love to. Want to come to LA with me first? Just to visit a few people I rarely see.”

“Definitely,” Gerard says, pressing a kiss to the nearest bit of Grant he can reach. “You get to tell Scott, though.”

Grant laughs. “I can do that. I feel like he won’t find me particularly intimidating, though. Unless you’re using me as a shield?”

“No, I just like to render him speechless as often as possible,” Gerard laughs, then gasps as Grant shifts and pulls out. He retreats to the bathroom and comes back in a moment with a damp washcloth.

Gerard hums, pleased at the attention, but it’s nothing compared to how good it feels when Grant climbs back into bed and wraps Gerard in his arms again. “I feel really fucking lucky right now,” Gerard tells him.

“So do I,” Grant replies.

Gerard grins, and Grant bends down to press a kiss against his lips, and they kiss and kiss until Gerard’s eyes are drooping closed. He falls asleep warm and comfortable, with Grant’s lips pressed against his cheek.

**

Grant wakes to the immensely irritating sound of his alarm and is groggily confused to find someone in bed with him. Having stolen all the covers, no less. He fumbles for the telephone and turns off the alarm. When he looks over at the pile of blankets at the other side of the bed, he finds a pair of sleep-bleary eyes blinking at him.

“You stole all the blankets,” Grant says. “I have a vision of my future and it includes a lot of me waking up freezing.”

Gerard makes a grumbly noise, but rolls toward Grant with his arm up, blankets in hand. Grant meets him in the middle and Gerard wraps the blankets over his shoulders and snuggles against his chest. “Sorry,” he breathes against Grant’s skin.

“I’m just pleased to wake up with you,” Grant tells him.

“Me fucking too,” Gerard says, smiling at him. Grant feels warm in a way that has very little to do with the blankets. Grant wraps his arms around Gerard and kisses his temple. He thinks waking up cold because Gerard has stolen the covers might be the best possible future. “What time is it anyway?” Gerard mutters.

“Earlier than either of us are given to rising,” Grant tells him. “But the press never sleep, it seems. I’ve an interview in an hour.”

“Ugh,” Gerard mutters.

“It was as late as I could book it, too,” Grant says with a sigh. “You can go back to sleep if you like.”

“No, I have to get to the convention center too.” Gerard stretches and drapes himself more fully over Grant.

Grant laughs. “This isn’t terribly conducive to me getting up, love.”

Gerard sighs heavily. “Ugh,” he repeats.

“I promise to make it up to you,” Grant murmurs.

“I like the sound of that,” Gerard tells his neck.

They lie there together for a few minutes more, just breathing. “It’s fucking weird not to be checking my phone right now,” Gerard laughs.

Grant laughs. “Did I tell you I bought a smartphone for you? I didn’t have a mobile at all until just before I went to London.”

“For me?” Gerard repeats.

“Because I couldn’t stand the thought of missing any of your messages,” Grant confirms.

Gerard beams at him. “I was horrible. Scott threatened to confiscate my phone every time I was at Dark Horse for meetings, because he could always tell I was itching to check my texts.”

Grant laughs. “The lads in London gave me so much shit. Especially since they knew I didn’t have a mobile previously. Kristan, too.”

Gerard looks at him curiously for a moment, before comprehension dawns. “Your ex. The good one.”

He nods. “She used to handle everything that could possibly require a mobile. I resisted getting one myself for a very long time.” “What happened with her?”

Grant is quiet for a moment, thinking. “I…was too much of a workaholic for her, I think. When it came down to it. We had other problems, but if I’d been able to pull away from work more often, I think those other things would have been bearable for her,” Grant explains. “Sadly, not much has changed.” Grant frowns a bit.

“Hey,” Gerard says, wriggling so they’re face to face. “You talked to me pretty much all day every day for months,” Gerard reminds him. Grant smiles and kisses the tip of his nose. “You’re right,” he whispers. He has no idea what this thing that he and Gerard have been building together is going to become, but it already feels so fucking strong. Like maybe they’ll be able to sort it out, between the two of them. He leans up to kiss Gerard. He forces himself to keep it brief, but it’s difficult. “I’ve got to shower and dress and get moving.”

Gerard takes a deep breath, fingertips gentle against the back of Grant’s skull, pulling their foreheads together. “If we have any matching free time, we should meet in the VIP lounge,” Gerard suggests.

“I’ll text you whenever I do,” Grant promises, giving him a kiss he intends to be quick. Naturally, it doesn’t work out that way. Both of them groan when they finally pull apart. Grant forces himself to pull away and get out of bed. He wants to do anything but. He pulls on his clothes and checks his pockets to make sure he has everything. “Talk to you later,” he murmurs.

“Definitely,” Gerard says. He presses his finger to the mark he’d left on Grant’s neck the night before, grinning when Grant hisses a little bit. “Get out of here,” Gerard tells him. “Knock ’em dead at the interview.”

Grant smiles. “I shall do my best.” He heads back to his own room to change with a spring in his step. He needs a Red Bull and something to eat, but he feels shockingly good.

He has to laugh when he gets a glimpse of himself in the mirror in his own room. Gerard hadn’t been at all subtle. He’s not going to have time to shave, but that’s all right. Kissing Gerard was entirely more important. He showers quickly and dresses. Nice suit, stubbly face, that’s just what people get today. He’s going to get plenty of shit from the people who know him, and that’s fine. He’ll take it gladly, knowing what he’s getting in exchange.

And really, gloating to his friends about his hot young boyfriend is not outside the realm of possibility. Boyfriend. Fuck, that’s amazing. He grabs his phone and types out, Can’t stop fucking grinning.

It takes a minute for Gerard to respond. I’m gonna look like an idiot all day. I don’t even care.

Same, but. The idiot who has you has the last laugh, Grant replies.

He arrives at the interview green room with ten minutes to spare, and sends up a prayer of thanks to whatever gods watch over the comics industry that someone’s thought to provide energy drinks. He guzzles one down and cracks open another for sipping and sits where he’s meant to sit.

“You’re early,” the interviewer, an old friend, says when he arrives. “Kudos, Grant.”

Grant raises his energy drink in salute. He sits down and they start. Grant’s happy, so his answers tend to reflect his mood. He walks through everything he has going on right now - his comics, the documentary, writing his book - and the last question is, “What are you most looking forward to this weekend?”

Grant laughs. “Honestly? Spending time with friends.”

His friend’s eyes light on the hickey and he lifts an eyebrow. “Friends, eh?”

“Good friends. Amazing friends. It’s been too long.”

“Enjoy,” the interviewer concludes with a laugh.

“I shall,” Grant says, grinning privately to himself. They shake hands and Grant gets up. He checks his schedule. He has another interview soon and a meeting a little after that.

He has enough time to grab a breakfast sandwich and text Gerard. Suspect I smiled like an idiot for the whole of that little chat. Good thing it’s a print interview.

Haha. Had a breakfast meeting with Gabriel. He gave me so much fucking shit.

 I’ll be in the building at eleven.

Dammit, I’ve got an interview at eleven, Gerard replies.

Grant has to laugh. And I have a panel at noon. And a signing at two.

I’ll come to the end of your signing and bring coffee, Gerard offers.

Sounds perfect, Grant replies. I shall see you then. He tucks away his phone, grinning to himself. Because fuck, he will. He’s spent months wishing that he could meet Danny face to face, and now… now he gets Gerard.

He’s never fucking going to stop grinning about that. Not ever. Gerard is worth every giddy grin.

His second interview goes well–the interviewer is a sweet kid, clearly a bit starstruck and too worried about being professional to make any comments about Grant’s appearance. He gets a coffee before heading to his panel. It’s a fun time and there are lots of good questions in the Q&A portion.

Dan DiDio is waiting in the wings when he finishes. “Grant,” says Dan, holding out his hand. “Caught the end of your panel; good stuff. You’re getting them excited.”

Grant smiles and hopes Dan can’t tell how very little Grant wants to talk to him. “All in a day’s work,” he says.

“I’d like to steal you before your signing,” Dan says.

Grant winces internally; he’d been hoping to avoid such a fate. But he’s not stupid, so he says, “I have some time,” and allows Dan to lead him off. He thinks of Gerard who will be waiting for him later and squares his shoulders.

Trapped in meeting with boss, help, he texts.

Weirdly, now that I know you mean Dan DiDio, that’s even more terrifying, Gerard sends back.

Sigh. Grant replies and turns his attention to Dan. This would be so much easier with caffeine. Thankfully, he’s able to charm a runner outside the meeting room that Dan leads him to into bringing him a Red Bull.

The meeting isn’t as bad as Grant fears, but it’s still a meeting with Dan. Luckily he has a good excuse to escape, and signings are something he truly enjoys.

He always loses track of time during signings, so it’s a surprise when he looks up to see Gerard smiling softly at him, holding two Starbucks cups. Mehdi is standing, arms crossed, a couple of feet back. A few people seem to recognize that Gerard is someone, but most of the ten or so people left in his line don’t notice him.

He waves Gerard over, but Gerard shakes his head and stays back, going over to mutter something to Mehdi. The next person in line steps up, and Grant gets caught up in talking with her.

The last person in line is a sweet girl who talks about how much she loves Doom Patrol. She keeps glancing over Grant’s shoulder.

“Are you an MCR fan?” Grant asks her.

“I- yeah,” she admits, blushing a little.

“Oi,” Grant calls over his shoulder. “Get your arse over here.” Gerard grins at him, hands off the coffee to Mehdi, and walks toward them. “I think this young lady wants to say hello to you, love,” he says. “And she’s waited all this time -” he nods to the guy running his line, who moves the stanchions to close the queue, “so.”

“It’s fine,” Gerard says. “Hi.”

The young woman looks more than a little bit starstruck. “Hi,” she replies shyly. Gerard sticks out his hand to shake hers. She glances between him and Grant. “I. Um. I read Doom Patrol because you said in an interview a few years ago that it was a big influence.” Gerard grins and Grant knows his face looks similar.

“Look at you, getting me new readers before we ever met.”

“Which you deserve,” Gerard replies. “It’s great to meet you. Did you -”

She blushes and rummages in her bag. “I didn’t get a ticket for your signing. Maybe you can sign this?” She flips open a sketch book to a page of characters Grant recognizes from Umbrella Academy.

Gerard’s face lights up. “Fuck, these are awesome!  Did you do these?” Her blush deepens and she nods. “Damn, they’re amazing,” Gerard gushes. They are, Grant thinks. He’s fairly certain Gerard would be genuinely enthusiastic no matter what, though.

Gerard scrawls a little note and his signature, giving the girl an encouraging smile. She squeaks her thanks and lets a staffer escort her out of the booth. Grant turns to Gerard. “Well, then.” Mehdi walks over with the promised coffee, which Grant accepts gratefully.

“So, how long do we have?” Gerard asks and bites his lip. Grant takes a sip of coffee, pulls his phone out of his pocket, and opens the calendar app.

“Hour and a half?” Grant hazards.

“I’ll take it,” Gerard announces.

Grant grins at him. “Have you eaten anything? We could have lunch somewhere.”

“Yes, that’s…perfect.” Gerard beams at him like he’s the best thing in the world, and Grant feels a great deal of sympathy for the girl from before. He’s feeling a bit starstruck, himself. He only just stops himself from taking Gerard’s hand right there in the middle of the DC booth.

“Let’s go, then. Tacos again?” he asks with a wink.  

“We are in SoCal,” Gerard comments. “Mehdi?”

“I’ll let you two have your alone time,” Mehdi says, dryly.

Gerard rolls his eyes. “So basically your answer is, ‘Take a fucking cab and text me on your way back?’”

“Also, don’t fall in the harbor,” Mehdi says. “Does that cover it?” He leads them to the cab stand. Before he tucks them away in one of the waiting cabs, Gerard hugs him, and he laughs and pats Gerard on the shoulder. “I love you too, Way. Remember what I said about the harbor.”

“I’ll keep him from the water,” Grant promises with a grin.

Gerard’s hand finds his as soon as the cab starts moving. “Kidnapped by the boss, huh?” Gerard asks, a grin in his voice.

“Yes,” Grant replies with a sigh. “It wasn’t actually bad. Partly because he just wanted to re-hash some things I already knew.”

“How exciting.” Gerard runs a hand through his hair. “Am I glad I never followed through with my Batman pitch?”

“Batman pitch?” Grant asks, curiously. Gerard blushes a little, and that’s their conversation for the rest of the cab ride sorted out.

“I want to fucking see everything you’ve got,” Grant says.

“When we get to Portland,” Gerard promises.

“I’ll remember,” Grant tells him.

Grant has to kiss him, then, though he keeps it light in deference to their cab driver. He squeezes Gerard’s hand as he pulls away. He can’t remember a time he felt this happy. Happy down in his bones. Happy to steal this ninety minutes out of a busy day.

They find yet another Mexican restaurant. “Do you have dinner plans?” Gerard asks, as they look over the menus. “A bunch of friends are getting together, if you want to join.”

“I’d like that,” Grant replies with a smile. He wants to meet all of Gerard’s friends. “And I have another party invite after, if you -”

“I think I’d probably enjoy it, as long as you’d be there,” Gerard says, thoughtfully. “And… as long as we didn’t have to stay too long.” The look he gives Grant over the top of his menu sends a flare of heat straight to Grant’s belly.

“I’ll be there and we can leave early,” Grant tells him. He even manages to keep his voice steady.

“Deal, then,” Gerard says with a grin.

Really, it’s probably for the best that they only have a limited amount of time for lunch. If Grant had his way, he’d be taking Gerard straight back to one of their rooms.

Grant busies himself with the chips and salsa for a moment to distract himself from his thoughts. Then Gerard nudges his foot under the table. “Your face right now…”

Grant grins ruefully. “Can you blame me, love?”

Gerard giggles his slightly croaky smoker’s giggle. “Not really.”

“Tease,” Grant says.

“Don’t worry, baby,” Gerard says, voice pitched low. “I promise I’m good for it.”

Grant swallows. “Thank the gods for that.”

“I still think I am the lucky one,” Gerard adds.

“I think we can share the title,” Grant says, reaching across the table to lace their fingers together. Gerard smiles at him and it takes Grant’s breath away. The moment is interrupted by their waiter, but that’s probably a good thing.

They get to talking about electronic music over lunch, which is sufficiently distracting. All too soon, it’s time to start heading back. Gerard calls a cab as Grant takes care of the bill.

As they ride back, Gerard leans against his side. “I’m glad we could do this. It’s like a little island of sanity in the middle of everything.”

“You’ve always been that to me,” Grant tells him. “Since that first day, on the message board. My light in the darkness.” Grant laughs a little, remembering. He tightens his arm around Gerard’s shoulder and kisses his temple.

“I’m glad,” Gerard says. “You’ve helped me too. So fucking much.” He tips his head against Grant’s shoulder. Grant lets his eyes close, just for a moment. Just to savor this feeling.

*

Gerard meets him in the lobby for the party looking every inch the rock star he is, from the leather jacket right down to the combat-style boots. Grant is no stranger to tight jeans, but Gerard puts him to shame. And is clearly enjoying Grant’s once-over.

“Ready?” asks Gerard, grinning and bouncing on his toes. Against the all-black background of his clothing, his hair stands out even more.

Grant laughs and takes Gerard’s hand. “As I’ll ever be. Let’s go.”

Dinner with Gerard’s friends had been pleasant. Low-key after a long day. Gerard hadn’t been at all subtle about their relationship, this time, and they’d received their share of good-natured teasing. Grant enjoyed every moment, if he’s being honest. He had Gerard, after all. And he’s going to enjoy showing up to this party with Gerard on his arm as well, even though the gossipmongers will be out in force. He doesn’t much care what the internet thinks about this. Gerard clearly doesn’t either, which is gratifying, even if Gerard refuses to believe he’s a bigger celebrity than Grant will ever be.

There’s actually a red carpet at this one, which Grant finds hilarious since he’s still unshaven and sporting a massive hickey. As they approach, he can feel the shift in the way Gerard is carrying himself. His shoulders move back, his chin lifts. There’s an air of defiance about him. It’s still his Gerard, just…amplified.

It’s really fascinating. Grant regrets never seeing him perform live.

Grant leans over to press his lips against Gerard’s ear. “After this, I’m going to take you back to my hotel room and suck you off until you beg.”

He can hear Gerard swallow. Gerard’s stride transforms into a cocky swagger after that. Grant watches him pose for the obligatory photo op with appreciation. Tonight is going to be an exercise in patience. He’s grateful he already promised Gerard they could leave early.

Gerard is watching him back with a very similar look on his face. It’s almost a relief when he hears, “Grant! Oh, and Gerard, too!” and turns to see Phil and Jim waving them over.

Grant grins. He always loves seeing Phil. The look Phil gives him when he spots his and Gerard’s linked hands is pretty great too.

“Look at you,” Phil murmurs. Grant squeezes Gerard’s hand and grins. “I’m not crazy thinking this is pretty new, right?” Phil asks.

“This is the first time we’ve met in person,” Grant says, quirking an eyebrow at Gerard, “but we’ve been friends for a while.”

Jim looks confused. “I thought– last night, you said you hadn’t met him before. You were so embarrassed!” he says, pointing an accusing finger at Gerard.

Gerard grins. “We hadn’t. We, uh, just found out it was each other we’d been talking to this whole time. It’s pretty wild.”

“Oh my god,” Phil says. “That is fucking adorable.”

“Not a word, Philip,” Grant says. “Or you, Lee.”

“Technically, I’m your boss, you know,” Jim points out.

Grant scowls, but he’s having a hard time summoning up very much irritation. Gerard is laughing in Grant’s ear, tucked against his side like the spot was made for him. Phil just grins at him. “I’m happy for you, Grant. You deserve it.”

“So does Mr. Rockstar,” Jim adds with a smile. Gerard huffs, but he’s clearly pleased.

Jim wanders off and Phil sidles up closer. “No, but seriously. Tell me how this happened.”

Grant laughs. “Like Gerard said.”

Phil gapes at them, and Gerard laughs again, hiding his giggles in Grant’s shoulder. “We are never going to live this down,” he says.

“Seriously, it was…we met in a comics forum because I was in an awful mood and wanted somewhere to direct my anger,” Grant explains. He has a feeling he’ll be explaining this a lot as time goes on. Phil shakes his head and tsks. “I know! And Gerard being brilliant saved me from looking like an arse - more like an arse - and he’s been brilliant ever since.”

“And Grant was fucking smart, and he got into arguments with me about Britpop at three in the morning,” Gerard picks up.

Phil grins. “His three or your three?” They all laugh.

“Both, sometimes,” Gerard replies. “Grant thinks it was fate,” he adds matter-of-factly.

“He would,” Phil replies, eyes twinkling. Grant just inclines his head, because, well. Fate might not be exactly the right word, but it’ll do. And anyway, he’s pretty sure Gerard agrees, so that’ll do too.

“What else? Tell me all the dirt,” Phil says.

“No dirt,” Grant insists.

“None,” Gerard agrees, his best angelic expression firmly in place. Phil raises an eyebrow, like he doesn’t believe them for a second.

He doesn’t have to look at Gerard to know he has a smirk on his face.

“Fine, you two can be the mystery power couple,” Phil sighs.

They get into a discussion about the con, and eventually a few other people Grant knows join up with them. It’s a good party; Grant is enjoying himself. The last party he’d attended had been Warren’s, and he’d desperately wanted Gerard to be with him. Now Gerard is and it’s exactly as wonderful as Grant expected it would be.

At ten o’clock, Grant’s phone tinkles with its annoying little alarm. Grant looks at Gerard. “Is this your doing, love?” Gerard grins at him slyly. It’s one of the most appealing things that Grant has ever seen. “Time to make our excuses, then,” he murmurs.

It’s easy enough to escape; everyone is either drunk or tired or both. This time, there’s no one in the elevator. Gerard doesn’t waste any time; he pins Grant to the wall and kisses the fuck out of him.

Grant wraps his arms around Gerard’s shoulders and kisses him back.

“You should be illegal, with the suits and the hands and the accent and the jokes,” Gerard pants against his lips.

“You should talk,” Grant growls. “Your fucking jacket, your fucking hair, your fucking hips, I could hardly fucking take my eyes off of you.”

Gerard smirks. “That was the point.”

The elevator dings and Grant steers him out the door, hands tight on his fucking hips. He leads them down the hallway and to the door to his room. He has to let go of Gerard to fumble for his key card. It takes three tries to get the door open. When they get in and the door closes behind them, Grant presses Gerard back against the door.

“This is so much better,” he murmurs against Gerard’s neck.

“Grant,” Gerard gasps. He tilts his head up, so Grant has more skin to work with.

Grant slides his hands under Gerard’s shirt and sucks just under his jaw. “Did you spend the day thinking about this? I did,” he says.

“Fuck, yes,” Gerard pants.

Grant sucks a little harder, just to hear the breathy little moans that Gerard can’t quite bite back. He moves one hand to the warm skin on the small of Gerard’s back and one up into his hair. “I don’t know if I have the patience to get us to the bed,” Grant admits.

“Fine by me.” Gerard curves a hand around the back of Grant’s skull and pulls him in for another kiss.

Grant blindly reaches for the button of his jeans and manages to get them undone. He reaches into Gerard’s fly immediately, finding tight cotton and the hot ridge of Gerard’s cock.

Gerard gasps into his mouth. “You gonna- ah- you gonna make good on your big promises, Fox? Gonna suck me?”

“Absolutely,” Grant replies with a smile and sinks to his knees at Gerard’s feet. Gerard’s fingers are hot and gentle on his head. Grant bends down and mouths at the shape of Gerard’s cock through his briefs.

“Fuck,” Gerard whispers. Grant tugs Gerard’s briefs down and pulls his cock out. He looks up. Gerard’s watching him with an expression of astonishment and hunger together. Grant wraps his hand around the base and slides his tongue over the head. “Fuck,” Gerard moans, low, filthy, sliding down Grant’s spine. “Oh fuck.”

Grant would answer if he could. But Gerard has voice enough for both of them.

He laves his tongue up and down all around Gerard’s cock and strokes the shaft a few times as he sucks on the head. Gerard is gratifyingly forward about telling Grant what he wants, and Grant is more than happy to comply. He’s good at following direction, even if he’s normally the one scripting.

Gerard wants more of his mouth and Grant gives it to him, taking his hand away and sinking further down, until the head of Gerard’s cock nudges the back of his throat. Grant feels Gerard’s hips twitch, and he can feel Gerard trembling, holding himself back. He rubs with his thumbs along the cut of Gerard’s hips. He looks up at Gerard and starts moving his mouth back and forth, pulling Gerard’s hips toward him every time until Gerard gets the idea and starts thrusting.  

“Oh my fucking fuck,” Gerard moans.

Grant keeps rubbing his hipbones and lets his mouth go soft. Gerard finally lets go completely and starts fucking his mouth. Grant moans around him.

Even now, though, Gerard hasn’t lost his words. He’s panting, swearing, murmuring praise and instruction and nonsense alike. Through it all, he keeps his fingers gentle on the curve of Grant’s skull. It’s the sweetest fucking thing Grant has ever felt. He’s slumped back against the door, barely holding himself up. Grant closes his eyes, focuses on his lips and tongue, on the noises Gerard is making. On the way Gerard is gasping his name like it’s a fucking prayer. He tastes and feels like he’s close, so close.

Grant keeps sucking, keeps swallowing around Gerard’s cock. He moans again.

“Please, please, please,” Gerard gasps. “Just- I’m so fucking close- Grant, please, fuck-”

Grant leans as close as he can, tugs and strokes the skin behind his bollocks. Gerard shudders and moans loud. His hips stutter and he starts to come. Grant pulls off just far enough to swallow, letting Gerard completely overwhelm his senses.

He leans his forehead against Gerard’s stomach. Gerard’s fingers gently slide to his cheek and he tips Grant’s face up. The expression on Gerard’s face… if Grant’s breath wasn’t already coming in quick gasps, that expression would do it. Its a dangerous business being someone’s idol. But this is more than that. For them both.

They’re friends. Amazing fucking friends, first and foremost. He turns his head to kiss Gerard’s palm.

“Grant,” Gerard murmurs, softly. “Come up here.”

“You might need to give me a hand up,” Grant laughs softly.

Gerard smiles and holds out his hands. Grant puts his in Gerard’s and stands with a bit of assistance from Gerard, who tugs Grant into his arms.

Grant tips their foreheads together. “How are you so fucking perfect?” he asks.

“You ought to turn that question on yourself,” Gerard tells him breathlessly. Grant smiles and kisses him. Gerard wraps a hand around the back of his neck. “What can I do for you?” he whispers.

“I think I want those clever hands of yours,” Grant tells him.

“Do you want the bed first?” Gerard asks.

Grant laughs. “Probably best for my old knees.”

Gerard huffs at him, rolling his eyes. “Fuck you, old.”

“Sufficiently,” Grant answers.

“Whatever,” Gerard says. Grant laughs, kisses him, and then starts shedding clothing. Gerard follows suit, shrugging off his jacket and bending down to kick off his boots. Grant finds himself distracted enough by the sight that he pauses in the middle of unfastening a cuff link.

“No, go on,” he murmurs when Gerard notices.

Gerard smiles and keeps going, pulling his shirt over his head and moves to get rid of his jeans completely. He has to shimmy a little to get them down his thighs, even after several hours of wear. Grant wants to lick the red marks on his belly and thighs.

He’s fucking gorgeous, flushed and radiant. Grant wants to get him on the bed and then never let him leave it. And he’s staring at Grant, looking challenging and making a little hurry-up gesture. Grant smirks and continues taking off his shirt, then his trousers. He gets rid of his shoes and then he’s standing in front of Gerard in just his briefs, his hard cock an obvious shape against the cotton.

“Enough?” he asks.

“Just about,” Gerard says, gesturing him to the bed. Gerard is close behind him and rubs a hand over the front of his briefs. Grant moans. Gerard tugs the elastic down over his cock. He hums appreciatively, wrapping his fingers around Grant’s cock and giving it a few leisurely strokes.

“Impatient,” Grant manages, though fuck, it feels good.

“You’ve been very patient, I think,” Gerard tells him. Grant moans and Gerard rubs his thumb over the head of Grant’s cock and kisses his shoulder. “Bed,” he murmurs. “C’mon. Gonna put my hands all over you, baby.”

“So glad you can,” Grant tells him, shoving his briefs off and tossing the covers to the foot. Gerard crawls onto the bed after him and leans in to kiss him as he wraps his hand around Grant’s cock again.

Grant tangles one hand in Gerard’s ridiculous hair and kisses back. He closes his eyes and arches into Gerard’s hand. He loves the feel. Loves that Gerard keeps his hand firm, even if he’s going torturously slow. Loves the way Gerard kisses him like Grant is the only thing there is.

Gerard is the best thing there is. This he knows.

Gerard kisses down his neck, sucks the mark he made, and then down Grant’s chest to suck on his nipple. Grant hums, arching up into Gerard’s mouth. His eyelids are heavy, his skin humming. Gerard keeps stroking his cock. He’s speeding up by increments and Grant is torn between begging him to speed up more and not wanting it to end.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous, all spread out for me like this,” Gerard murmurs. “Everybody gets to see you in those perfect fucking suits, but I get you like this. I’m the luckiest motherfucker on the planet.”

“Are you?” Grant murmurs, running his fingers through Gerard’s hair.

“Yeah, I fucking am,” Gerard replies. “So fucking lucky.”

Grant bites his lip and squeezes his eyes closed against the look in Gerard’s eyes, trying to to hold out a little while longer against the feeling gathering in the pit of his belly. He’s breathing hard, and Gerard kisses lightly along his shoulder.

“Gerard,” he breathes. “Oh fuck.” He thrusts up into Gerard’s head.

“That’s it,” Gerard murmurs, scraping his teeth against the hollow of Grant’s throat. “C’mon. Come for me.”

Grant rasps in a breath and calls Gerard’s name. He comes with a final thrust into Gerard’s hand. Gerard kisses him, and keeps on jacking him until Grant is completely spent.

Grant lets himself slump into the mattress and kisses back. He can hardly breathe but he doesn’t want to stop kissing Gerard.

“You are- the very best thing,” Gerard murmurs, between kisses. He’s breathless, too. He’s so beautiful. Grant slides his fingers into Gerard’s hair and pulls his forehead to Grant’s.

“Gerard,” Grant breathes. There are a hundred things he wants to say, but his ability to form words is… somewhere else, at the moment. So he just says, “Gerard,” again, hoping that his voice conveys what he means.

Gerard curls up against him and kisses his cheek. They lie there together for a long while. Grant thinks he could probably spend the rest of his life exactly like this.

“Danny,” he says contentedly.

“Fox,” Gerard returns, a smile in his eyes. His lips twitch, and finally he can’t quite hold back any longer and starts giggling.

“What?” Grant asks, when Gerard buries his laughter in Grant’s chest. Grant smiles at the top of Gerard’s head and strokes his shoulders as he laughs. Finally Gerard sighs and kisses Grant’s sternum.

“Just,” he manages, “I can’t fucking believe this, you know? That- that I met you on a fucking message board. You should be a serial killer.”

He smiles and slides his hand up to cup Gerard’s cheek. “And you should be sixteen with spots. And yet here we are in this magical world where neither of those things is true.”

“I like it here,” Gerard says with a contented grin.

“So do I,” Grant agrees, leaning in to kiss Gerard again. They trade sweet, sleepy kisses until Grant can feel himself falling asleep. “We should clean up a bit,” he murmurs.

Gerard murmurs assent and rolls out of bed. He takes care of them both quickly and insinuates himself back into Grant’s arms. Grant doesn’t resist for a moment. Tomorrow is another ridiculously busy day at Comic Con. There will be interviews, and meetings, and one last panel– a signing, and plenty of chances to talk with people who’ve connected with his work. Connecting with old friends. The Eisners. And he’s looking forward to it all, despite the fact that a large part of him would rather stay right here in this bed with Gerard all day.  

They’ll have time for that later, he supposes. There will be LA and then Portland after that. Then who knows where the winds will take them.

He’s already hoping it will be somewhere together. Maybe it’s a bit mad, but then, nothing about this whole thing has been anything else. It’s worked out anyway. Grant has a good feeling that the rest is going to sort itself out.

He’s looking forward to seeing exactly how it does sort itself out.

**

 Six Months Later

“Wake up, love,” Gerard hears, then a kiss lands just below his ear. Gerard hums in appreciation, but doesn’t open his eyes just yet.

A moment later, he hears Grant’s soft laugh. He runs a hand over Gerard’s chest and tangles their legs together. Gerard smiles and turns his face back for a kiss, but he still doesn’t open his eyes.

“Are we doing the thing where you think you can ignore that it’s morning if you don’t open your eyes?” Grant murmurs in his ear.

“Are we doing the thing where you’re a freakish morning person?” Gerard mumbles, reaching up to cup Grant’s cheek.

“Time zones, love,” Grant says; the same excuse he’s been using since he arrived back in Portland three days ago.

“Whatever,” Gerard mutters and turns in Grant’s arms. Grant cups his cheeks and leans in to kiss him.

“I missed you so much,” Grant tells him.

“Missed you more.” Gerard finally opens his eyes. “There you are.” Grant kisses him again, soft and sweet. Gerard sinks into it, wrapping an arm over Grant’s waist. “It was lonely,” he says eventually. “And wet. And I ate my body weight in donuts.”

Grant laughs into the skin of his throat. “Scotland was just as lonely. And, I think, equally wet, and I had no donuts to comfort me. Next time I go back, you’re coming with me. I’m kidnapping you if I must. Scott will have to understand.”

Gerard smiles. “I think Scott mostly wants to make sure I’m being looked after by someone.”

“I will always volunteer,” Grant says, nuzzling him.

“I like the sound of that,” Gerard replies, grinning. He pulls Grant in for another series of slow, warm kisses.

Grant kisses back happily, slides his hands down to cup Gerard’s bare ass. Gerard wriggles closer and their hips press together. Grant was fucking delighted when he moved in to find out how often Gerard sleeps naked. It works out pretty well for both of them, though. “Good morning, Mister Morrison,” Gerard says, laughing into Grant’s mouth and thrusting against his thigh. Grant laughs too, rolls Gerard over onto his back, and slides on top of him. Gerard wraps his arms around Grant’s neck. “When are you going to be sick of waking me up to have your way with me?” Gerard asks him.

“Never,” Grant says, licking a long stripe up Gerard’s chest. “Never, never.”

“Works for me,” Gerard gasps. He rolls his hips up against Grant’s and kisses his neck. Grant hums and tips his chin up. He’s stubbly - they’ve had much better things to do than shave the past three days. Gerard fucking loves the feel of it. He fucking loves Grant.

Grant puts his hands into Gerard’s hair and kisses him briefly, then pulls back to look in his eyes. Gerard takes the time to look back. Just look. Dark eyes, the curves of his skull, the little scar on his cheek. There have been a lot of times, these last six months, that Gerard has been sideswiped all over again by how fucking lucky he is. This is one of them.

“Grant.”

“Yes, love?” Grant murmurs and leans in to kiss him again.

“Nothing, I just - love you. And all that sappy shit.” He closes his eyes as Grant strokes his hair.

“I love you, too,” Grant tells him. His fingers scratch lightly at Gerard’s scalp, and he pushes into the touch like a cat. Fuck, Gerard is glad Grant is back. For a lot of reasons, but the fact that he’s here to touch Gerard like this is a fucking massive plus. “We have brunch with Scott at eleven,” Gerard murmurs. “What do you want to do until then?”

“Hmmm,” Grant rumbles, kissing Gerard’s chest. “I think… I think I want to fuck you again.”

Gerard stretches and smiles. “I could be convinced.”

“Always putting me to work,” Grant sighs, kissing across and up to Gerard’s collarbone. Gerard cups his hand around the back of Grant’s skull and arches up hopefully; Grant laughs and obligingly closes his mouth around one of Gerard’s nipples.

Gerard moans and hooks his ankles over Grant’s legs. Grant moves his hips against Gerard’s.

“How do you want it?” Grant asks him. “Anything you want.”

It’s not a difficult decision, really; Gerard fucking loves lazy morning sex. So he tugs at Grant and rearranges them until they’re on their sides, with Grant spooned up against his back. Grant reaches for the lube and strokes a hand down Gerard’s side. He slicks himself up and rubs his fingers over Gerard’s hole.

“Do you need anything, love?”

“No,” Gerard moans. “Just you.”

“That you can have,” Grant tells him, lining up and pressing in with one slow slide. Gerard sighs in pleasure, moving his hips a little so Grant can slide deeper. Grant presses his hand to the center of Gerard’s chest and Gerard covers Grant’s hand with his.

“Gorgeous,” Grant tells him. He keeps his thrusts short, pulling out and then pushing back in again in a slow, steady rhythm. Gerard moans, because he doesn’t think he’s ever going to get over how fucking good Grant is at this.

Grant’s lips slide against the back of his neck. “So fucking good,” Gerard moans.

“Missed this,” Grant tells him, rocking his hips. He’s so warm against Gerard’s back.

“Missed you,” Gerard gasps. Grant shifts, and it changes the angle of his thrusts just enough to send sparks up Gerard’s spine.

Gerard moans Grant’s name. Grant slides his hand down to Gerard’s hip and grips it tight. Gerard feels constantly smug that he’s the one who gets the benefits of Grant’s fucking incredible cock.

“Good, love?” Grant murmurs, kissing the skin behind Gerard’s ear. “What else do you need? What can I give you?”

“Always good,” Gerard replies. “Just keep going exactly like you are. I’ll…” He trails off and reaches down to take hold of his cock.

Grant makes a little disappointed noise, followed by a gasp as Gerard rolls his hips back hard.

“I’m sure you can- ah- think of other places to touch me,” Gerard teases, breathlessly.

He runs his hand over Gerard’s chest, twists his nipple, then moves it down to Gerard’s hip. All the while he keeps rocking in that same infuriating rhythm.

“I fucking love you,” Gerard says, twisting back to kiss whatever bit of Grant he can reach.

“Love you too,” Grant gasps. “So much.” He kisses back and starts thrusting harder.

Gerard groans and starts jacking himself faster. He can feel his orgasm building, barreling towards him. He squeezes his eyes and lets it wash over him.

Grant moans in his ear and keeps thrusting into him. His fingers dig hard into Gerard’s hip. His lips fasten on the side of Gerard’s neck.

“Grant,” Gerard manages. Now that he’s come, every thrust is sending little sparks of almost-too-much up his spine. “C’mon, c’mon.”

Grant moans again and Gerard feels him come. He grabs Grant’s hand and holds it tight. “Fuck,” he mutters several times against Gerard’s ear.

“Mmmmmm,” Gerard agrees, twisting to find Grant’s lips so he can kiss him. Their fingers lace together and Gerard smiles against Grant’s lips. He fucking loves waking up like this.

Grant pulls out and leans over Gerard, pushes Gerard’s hair out of his face. “Stay here and I’ll go get us coffees.”

“I love you,” Gerard tells him, leaning up for one more kiss before settling happily back against the sheets. He smiles broadly up at his ceiling, then looks at the clock and laughs. Eight fucking AM. “It had better be a big cup of coffee, Mr. Jet Lag,” he calls out to the kitchen.

Grant’s laughter is his only response.

Gerard doesn’t have to wait long for Grant to come back with two huge, steaming mugs of coffee. “At your service, love,” he says, presenting one. Gerard takes it gratefully and sips while Grant slides back beneath the covers, pressing up against Gerard’s side and kissing his temple.

He almost missed this part more than the sex. Missed the coziness, the love. They way they can just be together.

“Sorry it’s so early,” Grant says ruefully.

“S’okay,” Gerard promises, leaning his head against Grant’s shoulder. “I’ll get you back on Portland time soon enough.”

“Very likely. And you have to admit, eight is a rather substantial improvement on five,” Grant says.

“I like to think it’s just because I wore you out last night,” Gerard says matter-of-factly.

“That may have had something to do with it,” Grant allows.

Gerard grins smugly into his coffee. “Good. I worked really fucking hard at it.”

“I could tell,” Grant says, kissing Gerard’s temple.

Since it’s still three hours before they’re set to meet Scott, they linger in bed for a long while. Gerard enjoys every moment. They trade kisses and talk about anything that pops to mind. They still talk all day when they’re apart, but being face to face is so much better.

In a lot of cases, it’s the same conversations they started having over a year ago as Danny and Fox. They just keep thinking of more things to say. And when he calls Grant, Fox, he gets one of Gerard’s very favorite smiles. They’re all favorites, though.

And now he has Grant in his apartment, in his bed. Grant’s spent four out of the past six months in Portland, and they’re working on figuring out the best way for Gerard to come and live with Grant in Scotland for part of the year. Sure, it’s difficult sometimes, because they’re both workaholics who can get lost in their own heads a little too easily. But in spite of that, Gerard is so happy he sometimes feels like he’s going to explode.

“I love you,” he murmurs against Grant’s newly smooth cheek as they get ready to leave for brunch. Grant turns his head and they share a minty kiss. Gerard plucks the keys to his Mini off the hall table and ignores Grant’s fondly mocking look. “Can’t keep Scott waiting, let’s go.”

There’s a line for brunch, because there’s always a line for brunch, but since moving to Portland Gerard has learned to appreciate this as a feature, rather than a bug. He just hunches down in his jacket and leans against Grant, who wraps an arm around him as they talk to Scott. Grant plays with his hair - freshly dyed neon red but not really getting him any more double-takes than anyone else in the crowd - and Gerard practically purrs.

They talk a bit about Killjoys, which is doing better than any of them had ever expected that it would. Shaun and Gerard are already talking about plans for a second series. Scott and Grant have been throwing around ideas for a series with Dark Horse. Gerard loves listening to them.

Scott smiles at them both when they finally get to a table. “You two,” he shakes his head.

“What?” Gerard asks, trying for innocence. He’s not trying particularly hard, though. Scott rolls his eyes. “Oh, come on,” Gerard says. “Like you and Elisabeth are any better.”

“Elisabeth knows how to bake,” Grant says thoughtfully.

“Morrison makes an excellent point,” Scott declares. “Anyway, it’s not like I’m complaining, Gee. It’s good to see you stupidly happy.”

Gerard beams at him. “It’s pretty great, I have to admit.”

Grant clinks their coffee mugs together. “The greatest.”

“And the message boards haven’t rioted?” Scott asks, with his own attempt at an innocent look.

Gerard rolls his eyes. “Technically, I’m still a mod. I do try to do my duty every once in a while. No rioting seen yet.”

“What about the other boards?”

Gerard knows he means the music boards, but he just shakes his head. “I don’t read those.” They haven’t tried to keep their relationship a secret, but for the most part, the kids have been really sweet about it. And the ones who haven’t, well. He doesn’t give them the time of day. They’re good for a laugh on the phone with Frank sometimes, though. Gerard laughs more than Frank. Frank is a little too fierce on Gerard’s behalf to find it that funny. It’s sweet.

“Earth to Gerard,” Scott teases, tapping Gerard’s water glass with his spoon.

Gerard grins and takes a sip of his water. “Gerard reporting in.”

“Repeat after me: I will stop mooning over my boyfriend and pay attention to my boss.”

Gerard laughs and takes Grant’s hand under the table. “Not a chance.” Grant tangles their fingers together and squeezes, giving Gerard a gorgeous smile. Gerard can’t help but smile back.

“Well, at least I’m not trying to compete with your fucking iPhone anymore,” Scott says philosophically.

Both Grant and Gerard burst out laughing and just then, the waiter brings their food.

“Nope, I’ve got something better in my pocket now,” Gerard jokes. Scott makes a face at his omelette. Grant leans in for a kiss right there at the table.

After they’ve cleaned their plates, Grant excuses himself to go to the restroom. Gerard and Scott continue their conversation about Hellboy, but a minute later, Gerard’s phone buzzes. It’s a text message from a number that’s still programmed in under “Fox”.

 There’s a new print outside the bathroom you’ll like. Also, I love you and if we hadn’t promised to treat Scott to lunch, I’d have you come back here and I’d blow you.

Gerard smiles at Scott and taps back, Write down the artist’s name, and I’ll get the check. We can be home in fifteen minutes.

I like the sound of that, Grant texts back.

Gerard laughs and tucks his phone away in his pocket, grinning when Scott rolls his eyes. Fuck yeah. He likes the sound of that, too.

[hellzyeahthewebwieldingavenger]

Okay lets dismantle this one for the road. But it’ll take a few goes to do it properly

To begin with what a charming header image. 

“He may have abandoned his alternate universe of the same description, but Miles Morales is, without a doubt, the ultimate Spider-Man.”

 SPOILERS!

There is more than a little doubt.

 “In just a few short years, the webheaded wunderkind has stolen the shine from right underneath Peter Parker’s nose. ”

“His adventures hearken back to the high school heyday of the original wall crawler (soon to be returned to on the big screen in “Spider-Man: Homecoming”) while offering a completely new, modern and unique perspective of the teenage superhero.”

 Why does this make him better?

 Peter Parker grew in popularity under John Romita Senior when he had LEFT high school and was in college. Most adaptations which have the option of choosing tend to either begin with him as or quickly progressing him into a college student.

 Spider-Man the Animated Series only briefly showed him in high school in a few flashbacks.

Spider-Man 2002 began with him in high school on the cusp of graduating and then advanced him into college by the half way point of the film.

 Spider-Man 2 and Spider-Man 3 depict him as a college student.

 The Amazing Spider-Man 2 depicts him as a college student.

 The only major TV and film adaptations which have not had to do things for the sake of synergy which have actively chosen to make Peter a high school school are:

 -       The Spectacular Spider-Man Animated Series

-       The Amazing Spider-Man 2012

-       Spider-Man: Homecoming.

 The Ultimate Spider-Man Tv series might also be counted but it was released the same year as the ASM movie meaning there was likely a desire for synergy there.

 The Spectacular Spider-Man Animated Series was the first major adaptation which chose to make him a high school student when they didn’t have to and they did it because they were the first attempt to truly replicate the Ditko run and differentiate themselves from all previous adaptations.

 The ASM movie was retelling Spider-Man’s origin and also desperately seeking out any uniqueness amidst the fact that they were covering the same ground again. So they had to make him a high schooler and keep him there.

 Spider-Man: Homecoming similarly wishes to depict Spider-Man’s early days as it’s depicting the early days of the Marvel universe as a whole and it makes no sense for Spider-Man to have been publically active off screen for any length of time.

 Furthermore another CBR article actually listed over a dozen reasons as to why the 1980s (a decade where Peter was never a high school student) was the best decade for Spider-Man ever.

http://www.cbr.com/1980s-greatest-spider-man-decade/

 So what’s the big deal about Miles harkening back to the early days of Spider-Man?

 Or should I say what would be the big deal because between his mother dying, SHIELD having anything like a presence in his series, Venom, Blackheart and frequent crossovers and events and big events which might potentially shape the Marvel universe, there is more than a few elements unsuitable in Miles’ adventures if he is in fact harkening back to the simple down to Earth days of the Ditko era where Spider-Man was just living his day to day life, trying to make ends meet and coping with regular life ups and down.

 And...completely new and unique perspective of the teenage super hero?

 How so?

 It can’t be in so far as he is the first teenage superhero ever. Well over two dozen characters preceded him.

 It can’t be that he’s the first teen hero or hero in general to have spider powers or call themselves Spider-Man.

 It can’t be that he is the first teen hero or hero in general to have spider powers in post millennial society because we’ve had Mayday Parker/Spider-Girl and Ultimate Spider-Man do that.

 It can’t be that he is the first poc teen hero. There have been shittons preceding him and shittons more after him thus he hardly offers anything unique even if he was the first out the gate (but again he wasn’t....at all).

 Well okay maybe Miles is ‘unique’ as a take on the teen superhero because he is the first teen hero who’s taking over the legacy of another hero...whoops no he isn’t. See every Robin ever.

 Let’s tweak that. He is unique because he’s the first POC teen hero to take over the legacy of another hero...oh hello Cassie Cain what are you doing here over 10 years before Miles Morales was ever dreamed of.

 More tweaking? Okay. He’s unique because he’s the first POC teen hero to take over the legacy of another DEAD white hero who’s superhero identity was based upon a creature usually thought of as an insect and who Steve Ditko had a hand in creating.... Miguel O’Hara and Jaime Reyes? Who are they?

 AH! Could it be that he was the first poc teen hero who offers an African American perspective of regular life as a teen?

 Oh no wait no he wasn’t. There is quite a lot of stuff in his life which takes him away from just being a normal teen and even if there wasn’t Virgil Hawkins got there first too (and did it better). Not only was he actually created and defined as a character by black creators but here is what John Semper Junior (himself a black writer, story editor, and producer, with work including ‘SPIDER-MAN THE ANIMATED SERIES’) had to say about the character:

 “... I was one of the writers and story editors of the animated "Static Shock" TV show some years back (for seasons three and four), and I was nominated for an Emmy for my work on that show, so I have a warm place in my heart for this young super-hero character. In fact, I've always considered him the first black "Spider-Man," which made it very easy for me to segue from one show to the other....”

 Yes, Miles sure is unique all right. Nobody like Miles has ever existed before in comic books ever.

  “The creation of Brian Michael Bendis and Sara Pichelli, since his debut in 2011’s “Ultimate Fallout” #4 Miles has gone on to utterly dominate “Spider-Man” across all media, with appearances in video games, the “Ultimate Spider-Man” animated series and a movie in the pipeline.”

 Yeah dominate all media. Because as we all know he was utterly vital in all those Spider-Man video games that have come out since 2011. He was sure as heck the lead of every Spider-Man movie appearance since 2011. He was totally the main character in that crappy Ultimate Spider-Man cartoon.

 He’s just so DOMINATING you guys!

 “As well as doing the usual superheroics to a tee, Miles has opened the character up to a wider, more diverse audience in the process.”

 Opened up what character to a wider more diverse audience? Spider-Man?

 Surely most people on Earth knew Spider-Man long before 2011.

 And doing superheroics to a tee?

 I don’t think having spider sense, invisibility powers and a venom blast that if used in combination means every fight should last 2 minutes is doing superheroics to a tee.

 Nor is just being handed your superhero costume or being fairly quickly accepted into prominent paramilitary/superhero organizations despite little experience.

 “But why stop there? Here are 15 ways Miles Morales is a better Spidey than Peter Parker.”

 Here are 15 ways CBR will make bullshit points for the sake of clickbait!