#oh and not to mention that the animation is stunning. they get experimental with it and its really cool

[bbq-potato-chip]

kind of want to rewatch cowboy bebop

[ravysu]

Sannin headcanons and thoughts

The last thing I would like to post for the sannin week. It is still 24.04 here! :D @sannin-central

This is long. Spoiler alert. Mostly Orochimaru, some Tsunade, a little of Jiraiya (because his story is pretty clear and spoken and idk what I can add). Also I recommend to read this meta about Orochimaru, it has influenced me a lot and has some good points. Sorry for any posible grammar mistakes. Also I really should put here a lot of references to the manga or anime but it was something that was piling up for a year and I'm soooooooo lazy. After all, those are just headcanons. Also: Im not excusing Oro's bad stuff here, Im trying to understand the reasons.

Ive already posted some hcs, here, here and here.

1. First if all, the chronology pic of sannin lifetime based on the info i found on naruto wiki and also some statements about wars from this post. It was tough considering what a mess naruto’s chronology is.

2. Sannin story shows what it cost to be a legend. They're like Team 7 but more realistic. Tsunade literally carried the war but left with nothing and developed a ptsd and have problems to just live on. Also anger control issues. I think she can be pretty bossy and stubborn which is not always nice. Jiraiya is the hero of the day but also very idealistic and can ignore some important details in the real word whether its the fight (he always injured during flashbacks maybe because each time he took too much to handle and on the one hand it's heroistic but on the other is a mistake that can lead your team to situations like in that Iwa cave) or your friends issues (I bet he saw what's going on but thought it's fine until Oro actually got red handed and left). He lives in his world and may have problems to get out to see it through someone else's shoes. As for Orochimaru, it seems like he was a normal guy for 20+ years (I mean, he didn't do crazy criminal shit and had something good in him and it was stated somewhere that it was his teammates influence. It is obvious they considered him as a friend, I don't thinks it was for nothing) but we mostly know his darkest side. Despite being a moster he is a human that have empathy and some ordinary human traits (man just decorates every bit of an environment he is in lol).

3. Tsunade was the leader of team Hiruzen.

4. Tsunade sometimes hit Jiraiya for some stupid things he did or said but never touches Orochimaru even if he did something same. Jiraiya complained about it once and almost got another hit.

5. Jiraiya had problematic parents that didn't care about him much and a lot of time he was wandering in the streets.

6. Judging by the look of Oro bangs and hair, he sometimes cut it off. A stress relief huh? And the fact that he doesn't do it now in Boruto..

7. It was shown that Tsunade and Orochimaru was acknowledged before they become a team. Maybe they did just before, or maybe some longer time before. I prefer the second option and hc that they met because both had no real friends - Orochimaru seemed weird and scary for everyone and Tsunade was Senju so everyone wanted to hang out with her but didn't really care. They weren't seen as what they were - people put the labels on them. But they didn't care about each other's labels and actually saw each other in true lights.

8. Tsunade knew it was an accident and it's not right but still she blamed Orochimaru for Nawaki's death for some time. It was something that seriously damaged their friendship and the team. Orochimaru was mad but also guilty, after all, he was responsible at least as a shinobi since Nawaki was under his watch. So he started to act cold and emotionless and was trying to distance himself from his teammates.

9. Jiraiya was in Ame while Dan died.

10. The whole his orphans mission was a bit irresponsible tbh. They already fought Hanzo and as he stated the conflict between Konoha and Ame is going to an end with Konoha's win. It's weird to stay here for three years in the middle of the war while there were other lands to fight. He left his teammates for some idea. Maybe that caused another crack in their team friendship.

11. If Tsunade would have find a way to live on with her trauma and follow the will of fire and stuff it would affect Orochimaru as well just as her grief affected him. It's like he would get an example that you can live on with this pain. So death isn't above human capability and we are not just the slaves of mortality (sounds stupid but i dont know how else to describe sorry). But as we know what he actually saw is that it broke her crucially to the point she couldnt be herself again. And so the death is above everything.

12. Oro wasn’t just acting as a cold pragmatic bitch in that cave but also tried to save Tsunade. Jiraiya knew it and that’s why he showed this sign to him like "I see what youre doing here" and that stunned Oro because he would prefer to look rather like a cold pragmatic bitch hehe

13. Just a thought. People in the village probably treated Oro as a foreigner or just wouldnt accept him because he looked so differently and had a weird attitude. That's why he sometimes didn't feel that Konoha is his home. After the wars where people were treated as means and tools, even the children, he himself developed this view on people - he dehumanized them and used as the means to his goals, just as his village did. Funny thing some people were straightly dehumanizing him too like Ibiki thought that he was a demon (tho he was a child). And he probably weren't the only one. Anyways the point is that it's logical that Orochimaru don't care about anybody but some few people, he's the product of his era. He's like Naruto that would chose the hatred way. But naruto had some good and understanding people around him and.. Orochimaru had them too, but match how Iruka treated Naruto and this Hiruzen's "I sAw tHe mAliCe in This cHiLd fRoM tHe BegGinNinG". And oro didn't even have a big ass evil fox in him. sry i hate hiruzen

ANYWAYS the moral of the story is not "go criminal if they hurt you" but always treat people like people. Waving my hand to Kant.

14. The reason why Orochimaru didn't pick some good morals to stick with through the hard times no matter what (like, idk, Jiraiya or Naruto) is because 1) I think he is/was pretty depending on people around him 2) the war fucked him and his friends up too much (Nawaki incident + Tsunade) 3) twisted addictions (though I don't think he's that sadistic, we never saw him torturing randoms just for fun, it was always some science experimental shit. He tends to get fun out of cruelty only when it's personal) that maybe developed as a way to sublimate anger and sadness caused by his parents loss (that's what they share with sasuke - unlicke naruto, they knew their parents and it's other kind of pain. Sasuke developed a revenge issue and Orochimaru - cruelty pleasure which... is kinda the same but less epic and more occasional lol).

15. Speaking of that, Orochimaru cared for Sasuke because he saw himself in him.

16. Oro hold grudges against Hiruzen for not choosing him to be Hokage not only because he was ambitious and/or egoistic, but also because Hiruzen was some kind of a father figure for him and his approval was important tho i doubt he was aware of that. He also probably could tell that Hiruzen was suspicios about him when he was a child and that led to many conflicts and was hurting as well.

17. Tsunade knew things weren't pretty with Orochimaru after the wars but she never expected them to be this bad. During the week that she was given in her arc she thought not only about how much she wants to see Nawaki and Dan again despite how wrong would it be but also was trying to bury all the good memories she had left of Orochimaru so it would be easier to kill him.

18. She poisoned Jiraiya exactly because she knew he would not let her do it. Jiraiya was always hesitant to kill and inclined to forgiveness, while Tsunade, as mentioned by Orochimaru, could be merciless (so much so that he was not surprised when Kabuto suggested that she wanted to use Jira for Edo Tensei).

19. That was one of her traits that scared Jiraiya and fascinated Orochimaru.

20. Remember how Oro grabbed Jiraiya's neck when the latter was trying to cover with hair jutsu? On the snake, in Tsnade's arc. Orochimaru could have easily kill Jiraiya by pulling the sword out of the mouth (arteries are right there) but he didn't. As well as he could kill Tsunade when she was still shaking - just aim for the neck or the heart. Instead, he just injured her lung and kicked her which is not a big deal for the kind of shinoby like her at all.. Also he helped Anko not accidentally kill herself but it would be way much profitable to let her do it. "Orochimaru has no feelings".

21. The reason he suddenly wanted to kill Tsunade instead of forcing her to heal his arms as it was planned (which is weird since it will not going to get him heals and he kinda said that he wouldn't want to kill her just minutes ago) is that not only she refused to help him (he thought he could work it out) but she also prefered the village over him (from his point of view). Out if everyone she was the closest to being able to understand him since the village caused her painful losses too but nevertheless she agreed to be on it's side.

22. He wasn't fighting her back in the end partly because he thought he deserved that. Somewhere deep inside hahah.

23. Tsunade got a fear to develop deep bonds so they probably weren't very close with Shizune (also the way she knocked her down in this hotel.. oh).

24. Orochimaru will be here when she'll die.

25. Orochimaru's eng dub to Tsunade: "I often wondered what it would be like to ring that pretty neck yours". No comments.

26. Orochimaru is either bi/pan or ace. Anything or nothing lmao

27. Hiruzen knew about at least some of the Oro’s illegal experiments and was okay just as he was okay with the Foundation all the time. Because it’s useful. Then he has discovered he went too far OR he knew everything and oro just became too inconvenient because of his methods. The way Orochimaru tells Sasuke about reasons they are well treated as the criminals is based on in his experience with Hiruzen.

28. As you may know the lyrics in Orochimaru’s music theme goes “don’t talk with the silence of the heart”. It was taken from one Indian song that also had lines like “don’t question life too much”, ”pain arose somewhere in the chest”, “don’t speak to the wounds of the heart”. Though I’m not sure 100% because I was translating it with some hindi dictionary with like zero knowledge of hindi

29. I like to think that this “silence of the heart” theme and the fact that he called his village a hidden sound village are somehow connected. The hidden sound is the possible explanation of all things waiting to be listened to but the truth is silent and you know it deep in your heart and it bothers you. The world is silent just like the life is meaningless but people can only hear. *Sigh* anyways

30. Orochimaru’s journey is the one about accepting death. When he saw Karin released her chains while was trying to get to Sasuke he understood that the death is a part of human’s strength.

Can’t wait to feel that everything I wrote is wrong or not enough or stupid and obvious lol. Anyways, it’s something that I wanted to share until I move to some other fandom.

[skrltwtch]

Muse

Prompt 1: Just like some people sleep-walk, you tend to paint or draw while in your transformed state because it calms you down. And apparently, people really like your art.

Prompt 2: A is a popular artist, and B messages them without thinking one day. They didn’t expect to become friends, and they definitely didn’t expect to become more. Person B just felt that connection between the two of them.

Prompt 3: A/Werewolf has a tendency to curl like a dog in front of the fireplace a lot (usually in their werewolf form, but it’s not uncommon for them to do it as a human). (Sources in master list)

Word count: 3,721 words

Genre: Fluff, romance, supernatural

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

I put up with the long commute to and fro between home and work for two reasons, and two reasons alone: the decent rent for a place with a picturesque view and that catered to my monthly needs, and the glut of time to catch up on my reading. And by ‘reading’, I meant ‘scrolling through the handful of social media feeds that survived my latest cull of shit that was taking up my time and storage space unnecessarily, and occasionally attempting (and failing) to pay attention to my Kindle’. Hey, at least I was aware I had a problem …?

Instagram was my first hit of the day. I flicked past images of makeup, friends in situations I wouldn’t be finding myself in anytime soon, and cute animals. The occasional meme and comic draw out an exhalation of air from my nostrils. I marvelled at artwork and photography, half wishing I were half as good as the people I followed and admired, half chiding myself for not practising either enough and losing interest quicker than I’d dropped money on new equipment in the name of my new endeavours. You could say one of my hobbies, the ones I’d been consistent about, was amassing gadgets obtained to indulge my whims and fancies.

My heart skipped a beat — or was it the pothole the bus went over? — when I came across a new post by George. I didn’t know him personally to refer to him by his first name like that, but hadn’t social media broken down boundaries between people, making them seem closer to each other than they really were? He was an illustrator whose work I chanced upon on Reddit a while back. His portfolio was a patchwork of subjects, often portraits, rendered mostly in traditional media like watercolour and oil paint. He sometimes shook things up with abstract, contemplative pieces. He had something for almost everyone. For me, it was his attractive, angular yet distinctive faces and statuesque figures, use of watercolour, and versatility: one piece could be superhero fanart, followed by a collection of moody, atmospheric paintings of the English landscape with some fantastical additions.

It also helped that he seemed to be a nice, chill person, and a handsome one at that, too, based on the smattering of pictures he had of himself on his feed. Please, let me imagine a world in which someone as ideal as him — or what I knew about him — wasn’t beholden to anyone for a moment.

His latest post was a drippy bust of a snarling wolf with full moons for eyes. The caption simply read: ‘Mood.’ I smirked as I hit the like button. Did I mention that he drew wolves a lot as well? Sometimes his wolves were feral; sometimes they were humanoid, but still wild. The latter featured heavily in his conceptual works, albeit as hazy, indistinct forms, like blurry photographs. In any case, I liked that he had a fondness for wolves and werewolves, as the constant presence of the full moon in art of the latter would suggest. Anyone who liked wolves was a-okay in my book. Anyone who liked werewolves was even more so. Because.

An interrupted connection between my brain and my reflexes led me to visit his profile. Instead of returning to my feed, my thumb gravitated toward the message button at the top of the screen. Not a single cell in my body resisted this turn of events despite the restored connection. Oh, what the hell. Why not? Like, what were the chances he’d read my message? He had tens of thousands of followers, a likely considerable chunk of them being bots aside. He must receive DMs every other minute. I’d be another sycophant in his sea of fans. Or he’d see my homely mug and locked profile, and he’d think I was driven to add to his never-ending count of unread messages simply out of misguided thirst.

The beauty of the Internet was that it made ‘out of sight, out of mind’ fairly easy to put into practice.

I got the following out of my system and into his inbox: ’Hi! Hope you’re doing well. I’ve been following your Instagram for a while, and your latest post just made me want to say your art is amazing. (I can totally identify with the sentiment behind it.) I especially love your more abstract pieces. There’s something so … raw about them. And I like that you seem to like wolves a lot, too. They’re beautiful animals, and your art really captures that about them. Anyway, keep up the great work! Take care.’

I exited Instagram, not caring about the rest of my feed anymore and not wanting to feel like I was stalking my notifications for something that’d never come. My phone buzzed with several notifications as I went down my Reddit homepage. I swiped away the banners with green icons that pelted the top of my screen. Those could wait. What couldn’t were the banners stating that I had a new message and a new follower request from —

‘Oh, my God!’ I said, loudly enough for me to hear my own voice above my music (the chorus of Walk the Moon’s ‘Shut Up and Dance’ at half of maximum volume, so … loud). Not one soul on this lightly populated bus acknowledged my exclamation — not even the woman sitting next to me. (Come on, lady, the front was mostly empty.) Thank God for technology making hermits of us all. Or my sudden outburst paled in comparison to the shit that could happen and had happened on public transport. When you took long journeys as I did every day, you’d see some real shit in due time, too.

I launched Instagram for the second time this morning (stop judging, Screen Time) and the first time ever with trembling hands. The notifications were real. I approved his request first. My mind raced to recollect anything on my profile that might make him regret his decision to let my piddling photos of food, myself, my cat, and random junk take up precious space on his feed. Nope, couldn’t think about that now, because I was now staring at an actual, honest-to-God message from George:

’Hey! Thanks for reaching out, and thank you for your kind comments. They mean a lot to me, especially what you said about my experimental stuff and wolves. They are stunning creatures, aren’t they? And yeah, I drew that last picture after a particularly rough night. You could call it a self-portrait of sorts, I suppose.’

I snorted. Change the fur colour and make the eyes normal, and it was a portrait of myself every full moon. Okay, not something I could tell someone I just met, let alone a popular artist on the Internet …

Before I could recover from the shock that my inbox held an actual, honest-to-God message from George Holden (that was his last name — the oxygen made it to my brain for me to remember that he had his last name on his profile), he sent another one: ’Anyway, how are you? I took a look at your profile, and it looks like we have quite a number of things in common.’

What, really? No way. Was it the lashings of sweet treats I subjected my stomach to every weekend? The horror and science fiction titles, celebrity memoirs, and comics, sometimes paired with an iced coffee at either a café I put down roots for the afternoon or the one-bedroom house in Waltham Forest I called home, I showcased to put forth some form of air of intellectualism? The cross-stitch projects featuring memes and popular culture icons? His profile was quite barren of anything that could provide insight into what else he enjoyed doing besides his art. Which, hey, was perfectly fine: no one was obligated to share their personal life online.

I replied, ’I’m fine, thank you. I’m on my way to work. Favourite part of my day, really. And really? Like what?’

Most of my notifications that day were from him.

✦✧✦✧

I was a bustling hub of activity in my seat: A sip of my drink. A shake of my knee. A lift of my phone. A turn of my neck. A shift of my weight from one butt cheek to the other. I was certain I was generating enough electricity to power a lightbulb in five-second intervals. I couldn’t help it. I was so, so excited — and so, so nervous. This was my and George’s first time meeting each other in person. There’d be no screen between us. Actually, what difference would that make? We’d been talking to each other for months, either through text or video calls, the latter more common in the weeks leading up to today. We’d seen each other even on our ‘I’ll put on a clean shirt, brush my hair, and hope for the best’ days. What could either one of us do in person that would irrevocably alter our friendship for the worse? Well …

The sound of someone entering the café stopped me from starting on a list of things that I could do to fuck things up. I looked up, probably the seventh time I did so in the last ten minutes. This was on me. I grossly overestimated the amount of time it’d take me to get somewhere as usual; a natural by-product of living far from the city. Seventh — probably — time was the charm: it was George — and right on the dot, too. His punctuality added to his attractiveness, which had already gone through the roof and was heading straight into the stratosphere. I bit my lip to suppress any unfortunate exclamations. He was a friend, Evelyn … just a friend, and I had no illusions otherwise.

I called out to him. He waved at me and joined me at the table I picked out for us. And the second our eyes met, devoid of any barrier between us, everything about him — and everything about us — clicked.

He was just like me.

And I was just like him.

And he was as astonished about it as I was, going by the long silence that passed between us, a first since we got to know each other.

‘Hi! Oh, my God, it’s so good to finally meet you!’ I said with a grin to break the tension. He broke out into a smile, his posture relaxing. Success. Should I go in for a handshake? No, that’d be too stuffy for a months-old friendship. A hug? No, that’d be too intimate for a months-old friendship, and an online one, too, no less. Was it obvious this was my first time meeting someone I met online?

‘It’s good to meet you, too,’ he said, his expression of cheer unabating. ‘I’m going to get myself a drink first, and then we can shoot the shit.’ His smile turned into a grin. ‘Do you want anything? My treat,’ he added as he spotted me reaching for my wallet.

‘I was thinking a red velvet muffin, please.’ I didn’t know why I didn’t get one earlier. ‘Thank you.’

‘No problem. I’ll be right back.’

As he left, my nerves turned into happiness that I met another werewolf. It was rare to meet other werewolves just about anywhere. What were the odds that two werewolves, one of whom was Internet-famous, would become friends because the other one had a brain fart one morning to send a message to the Internet-famous one? You couldn’t make this shit up. In all the years I’d been a werewolf, George was the first one I knew. I didn’t even know the one that turned me. I got bitten one night, and that was my life changed forever. I figured everything out on my own — I had to. And my puny social network of werewolves made sense: this wasn’t exactly the kind of thing anyone would advertise about themselves.

Once George settled down and courtesies were out of the way, the first thing out of his mouth was ‘I never thought I’d meet another one like me’.

I moved my chair closer to him so that we could speak at length about what we were without the fear of being overheard. ‘Me neither.’ Then it hit me, and I quickly said, ‘It’s fine if you don’t want to talk about it, though.’ Personally, I was okay with what I was. No existential dread here, contrary to what one might expect of a werewolf. It happened. I learnt to manage it in a way that made it not have any kind of significant impact on my life. I refused to let it define me. And honestly, I lived for particularly bad days that coincided with full moons.

‘Are you kidding me?’ His face lit up with boyish glee. ‘I’ve been waiting for this day for so long! As in, us meeting up in person for the first time and me getting to know another werewolf. Two birds, one stone: the only kind of killing I endorse. And I’m so fucking chuffed it’s you. I always felt like I could talk to you about anything, and now that really, really means anything.’ It was his turn to be able to power a light bulb, but in twenty-second intervals this time.

‘Same. How were you turned?’

‘I was bitten during a camping trip with friends a couple of years back. You?’

‘Secondary school. I was walking home from the library.’

‘Shit, that was some time ago, huh?’

‘Almost half my life a werewolf.’

‘Do you know the werewolf that did it?’

‘Nope. How about you?’

He shook his head. ‘Nah. Kind of sucks, doesn’t it, that you’ll never get to know the person who’s changed your life so … deeply? They won’t remember either that they turned someone. If only having kids was like that, yeah? Absolutely no sense of responsibility whatsoever.’ He gave his teaspoon a lazy twirl, causing a faint plume of milk to rise and sink into the dark, bittersweet depths from whence it came. ‘I struggled with what I’d become the first couple of months. The transformations were one thing.’ Oh, yeah. ‘I felt … grotesque. God, the amount of self-pity, like, why was I the only one who had to go through this every month when there were four other guys ripe for the picking? So, I decided to start incorporating wolves in my art to get to know and reclaim that part of me. I didn’t want to see it as something ugly. I mean, you get to experience a kind of rebirth every month. That’s extraordinary if you think about it. And I told myself that like myself, the wolf didn’t ask to be born. Ha, ha. Millennial humour. Anyway. Then the most miraculous thing happened one full moon: I woke up next to a coherent painting that wasn’t there the night before.’

‘Oh, my God.’

‘Right? My more artsy stuff? The ones I hate coming up with captions for? Almost all done while I was transformed. I’d started some of my art — bet you can’t guess which one — on full moons, too, and I finished them after I changed back. It’s as if the wolf knew we were now cool with each other.’ He took a big chunk out of his apple crumble and jammed it into his mouth. ‘Sorry if that sounded like spiritual woo-woo. I’ve been wanting to tell someone about this forever.’ Crumbs fell out of his mouth as he spoke. ‘Shit, I’m such an’ — he shot me an impish look as he swallowed — ‘animal, aren’t I? Fuck, I can make stupid references like that now, and someone would get it!’

I laughed. He was such a dork. ‘It’s not “spiritual woo-woo”. It’s amazing. How is that even possible?’

‘I have no idea.’ He held out his hands in front of him. ‘So thankful we get to keep our hands and not have them turn into paws.’ He waggled his thumbs. ‘Fuck, yeah, opposable thumbs. And I want to say it’s like when artists get high and make stuff. I do know artists who do that, and hey, no judgment. To them, I do the same thing, too.’

‘And here I am, feeling accomplished whenever I make it through another full moon without waking up in a trashed place. Seriously, that’s amazing.’

‘I think that’s what’s keeping me from losing it while transformed. I was surprised people liked those pieces when I started posting them, considering they’re such far departures from what I usually post.’

‘That explains why they’re so … visceral.’

‘Yeah? I figure you’d appreciate them even more now.’ He smirked. ‘And you know, no one really talks about my wolf art, and especially my werewolf pieces. Maybe if I didn’t make them blurry and made them more explicit …’ Oh, he’d get a different breed of followers altogether. ‘But that’s fine. I don’t want my lycanthropy to define me and my work. It’s just a part of who I am.’

‘My turn to say something possibly corny: I like your wolf art because … they make me feel seen, because they’re drawn by you.’

He put a hand on his chest. ‘That’s not corny. I’m happy my art makes you feel that way. You know I don’t care about the likes or comments. It just so happens I like drawing things that make me get likes and comments.’ He pushed his plate toward me and motioned at me with his fork to try some of his apple crumble. I obliged him. ‘Did you ever suspect anything? Not that, you know, I purposely drew wolves and werewolves as a kind of signal for other werewolves to pick up on. That’d be giving me way too much credit.’

‘No, I just thought you like wolves a lot.’

‘Same here. What you said about wolves being beautiful creatures when you messaged me the first time … that made me feel something, too.’

‘Then I’m very glad we got to be friends,’ I said. Born from the same blip in brain activity that set us on this path, my hand found itself on top of his. His touch had a pleasant, almost familiar heat to it.

‘Me too.’ He turned his hand over and clasped mine.

‘I have an idea,’ I said, mostly to distract myself from how right this felt. ‘Do you want to meet on the next full moon?’

‘Sure. I can’t wait to see what kind of inspiration will strike with another werewolf around.’

‘Your place, then?’

He nodded. ‘Unless you’re cool with me possibly trashing your place with paint and stuff. That hasn’t happened before, but who knows? What if wolf-me doesn’t like change?’

I stared at him in disbelief.

‘I can’t help it. You have no idea what kind of beast this has unleashed. Oops.’

We sat and talked in the café the entire afternoon; we took turns treating each other to food and drinks to justify our occupancy. Our conversation moved on to other topics besides the one special, biggest thing we had in common. Just like we didn’t want it to define who we were as people, we made a promise to each other, and we did so over a strawberry custard tart, that we wouldn’t let it become the foundation of our friendship from this point on. It’d be unfair to the moments we shared before this. We were friends because we cared about each other, we brought out the best in each other, we could truly be ourselves around each other, and, honestly, I didn’t think anyone else would have the patience for his goofy in-jokes.

✦✧✦✧

I lay in front of the fireplace, rejoicing in the warmth it offered on this cool night, while George was working on his newest painting. Since getting to know each other in these forms, we’d been able to exercise better control. For me, that meant greater peace of mind; for him, that meant a more refined grasp of his artistic sensibilities. As with much about our condition, we didn’t question this. What could possibly be a drawback of us spending more time in each other’s company? I now understood why animals curled up by a fire was a common sight in media and real life, too. Wait, what if this, and not George’s presence, was what I’d been missing all my life?

My tail wagging like a fiend when I felt his breath on my skin begged to differ. I licked his face. He gently parted my lips and slid his tongue onto mine. Our tongues engaged each other in a playful scuffle; the fire crackling in the background could only dream of coming close to causing the rise in temperature in the pit of my stomach. The tussle between our tongues didn’t get to turn into something more: he’d had a long night. I nuzzled him to convey reassurance. He lay down beside me and wrapped his arms around me, his hold firm yet tender. We fell asleep like this, keeping each other warm long even after the fire had died out.

We wished each other a good morning with a kiss — no, two kisses, and we got ourselves ready for the day. As we were having breakfast, George piped up, ‘Do you want to see what I painted last night, love? I’m really proud of it, and I think you’d love it, too.’

I nodded excitedly, my mouth too full of scrambled egg to speak.

He returned as quickly as he’d left the table. His hands held on to a painting … of me curled up by the fire last night. The figure was the clearest, most detailed he’d ever done; the lighting was phenomenal. ‘It’s beautiful,’ I said, tearing up a little, frankly. ‘I love it. It’s going to look so good in our new place’, along with the recent paintings he’d made of a similar nature. He’d come so far from the gauzy forms that once populated his attempts at capturing his — our — condition on canvas.

‘Of course, when I have the most stunning model.’ He gave me a peck on the cheek. ‘I love you, my muse, my mate.’

[thestuffedalligator]

The Scholar of Gondor

There was a day’s travel between Undertowers and Hobbiton.

This was less a consequence of the actual distance between the two and more the fault of the state of the road. Namely, there wasn’t one. Thirty-five years of carts had carved two long furrows through the hilly lowlands, and these looped and turned around the hills like a very bored giant had spent an afternoon trailing its fingers through the dirt to make interesting designs. It was generally understood that a road was going to be built eventually, and in the meantime the Westmarch-hobbits and the Old-Shire-hobbits came to enjoy the distance from each other.

But gossip in the Shire never seemed to actually follow the roads. It soared on the open wind, travelling as the crow flies, so what was news in Undertowers somehow became known in Hobbiton in a matter of hours. If it was particularly scandalous gossip, it made the trip in minutes. When Fíriel Fairbairn was caught snogging Donnamira Brandybuck two Yules ago, it had spread across the Shire so quickly that it had reached back to Donnamira a full two minutes before it had actually happened. By that point the two decided that, what the hell, best not to tempt a paradox, and ducked into a parlor closet.

News about the Scholar of Gondor reached Hobbiton a full thirty minutes after the Scholar’s horse clattered to a stop in Undertowers.

This was news because it had been a full sixty years since King Elessar had declared Men as forbidden from entering the Shire. And what was worse, this human had been permitted entry into the Shire upon the orders of King Elessar himself. Worse still, the Fairbairns were apparently allowing it to stay in their home.

This was just too much for the Old-Shire-hobbits. Why couldn’t the Big Folk keep to their own and leave us in peace? And on Elessar’s orders, no less. What did Elessar think he was?  King? As for staying with the Fairbairns, well -

Most hobbits stopped at that. Well. You just didn’t talk about that sort of thing.

***

Fíriel “Sharkey” Fairbairn - a nickname she had picked up by general acclaim somewhere in her tweens - was doing her own research in her family’s library. This mainly consisted of pretending to read Herblore of the Shire while trying to inconspicuously stare at the Scholar of Gondor.

She was, Sharkey decided, rather pretty in a tall sort of way, all dark, wavy hair and brown face. If she was wearing a leather tunic and hunting spiders in the forest, she’d probably be the spitting image of an elf. Instead she was wearing a grey dress and robe that was somehow fashionable in Gondor despite it making her look a bit like a grounded thundercloud, and she was currently hunched over a massive pile of hobbit books, one hand pressing open The Red Book of Westmarch, and the other scrawling notes down in a small, leather notebook.

Sharkey considered herself to be rather attractive - she had to have been, to wind up snogging Donnamira Brandybuck two Yules ago - but even in her sharpest jacket and brightest trousers, a base animal instinct warned her that the Scholar was out of her league.

Sharkey closed Herblore with a snap, pulled her pipe out of her jacket pocket, and made an obvious show of nonchalantly cleaning it. “How’s it coming?” she asked.

The Scholar nodded. “A bit slow, I’m afraid,” she said. “I’ve only just finished There and Back Again.”

Sharkey had experimentally puffed on the pipe to test it for blockages and suddenly inhaled a glob of charcoal that lodged itself in her throat. “Al-ready?” she managed between coughs. “You - just - got here - two days ago!”

The Scholar hummed. “It’s a very short book,” she said. She looked up. Sharkey noticed that her eyes were a stunning shade of grey and, just then, full of curious worry. “Are you all right?”

“Never better!” Sharkey said in a strangled tone. She made one more hard, wheezing hack, and the glob came out into the crook of her elbow.

“What I don’t get,” Sharkey said, changing the subject after a sufficiently embarrassing pause, “is - you’re here to study The Red Book. I get that. But we gave Gondor a copy of The Red Book just three years ago, right?”

The Scholar tapped her quill on the notebook. “Well, yes, and we’re very grateful for it. But the academics of Gondor believed that it deserved some… clarification.”

Sharkey quirked an eyebrow. “Clarification?”

The Scholar nodded and flipped through some pages of notes. “Bilbo seemed to have something of a fanciful imagination, and inserted some creatures from hobbit folklore into his writing.” She got to a page almost black with Sindarin. “There and Back Again has stone-giants, skin-changers, were-worms - were-worms!” She looked back up at Sharkey. “What the hell is a were-worm?”

Sharkey allowed the image to form in her mind. “Something like a werewolf, I reckon,” she said after a moment. “Only it turns into a worm, not a wolf. Stands to reason, right?”

There was a pause as the Scholar thought up the image as well. “No,” she said.

Sharkey grinned. “Oh, what, you’ll accept eagles, trolls, goblins, and dragons, but-”

“They’re history,” the Scholar said. “Giants and mewlips and gorcrows and Tom Bombadil - those are mythology.”

There was a thoughtful pause. “I admit it’s a fine line,” the Scholar said. “But I can see it from where I stand-”

“Tom Bombadil’s mythology?”

“Er - yes,” the Scholar said. She held up The Adventures of Tom Bombadil and gave it an accusatory wobble. “I suspect your Frodo inserted him into the story to add some levity to his travels. He’s a folklore figure. A hobbit fairy tale. He’s not actually real.”

Sharkey frowned. “Isn’t he?”

There was another thoughtful pause. “I… thought so,” the Scholar muttered. “Up until just now, anyways.”

***

It turned into something like a pattern - Sharkey pretending to read some new book in the library, catching up on how the Scholar was doing. Sometimes this turned into the Scholar asking for clarification. Sometimes this was, “A later edition of this could really do with more mentions of Arwen,” or, “Look, just because Aragorn mentions the Beornings doesn’t mean that they can turn into bears.”

Then, somewhere in the middle of Blotmath:

“You’re - you’re asking me if my grandfather ever fucked Frodo.”

The Scholar shrugged. “I’m not necessarily suggesting that the two consumated the relationship, but if you look at the subtext-”

“My dear, sweet granddad, who loved my grandmother very much, and decided to leave for the Undying Lands the moment she died-”

“Well, who’s to say what happened before he got married? I’m just saying, it’s very convenient that Rosie only gets mentioned towards the end of the-”

“My lovely, gentle Grandpa Gamgee-”

The Scholar slapped a hand onto the table. “Your Grandpa Gamgee had a legendary virility among hobbits, and was considered for his time to be the most attractive hobbit in the Shire, Frodo would be insane not to get on that.”

“This is hell,” Sharkey said. “I’m in hell and you’re the devil. Everything makes sense now.”

The Scholar laughed, a clear, beautiful noise that set certain parts of Sharkey’s brain on fire. “I suppose hobbits don’t talk about that sort of thing, do they?”

“In the Old-Shire, definitely. But Undertowers is different.”

“How so?”

Sharkey shrugged. “It’s a new town,” she said. “When hobbits heard that there was a new place, a place away from the gossip, a lot of the ones who were disgraced in their old towns migrated over. A lot of that was for-” She made a vague gesture. “Travelling by ship with Gimli and Legolas, if you catch my meaning.”

The Scholar raised her eyebrows. “I had no idea.”

Sharkey puffed herself up, and pulled on the lapels of her jacket. “I pride myself as being the foremost authority on the subject.”

The Scholar leaned across the desk to her. Sharkey could suddenly see the little droplets of dried ink on her cheek, the shape of her lips, the thunderstorm in her grey eyes. “It’s a theory I’m… less experienced in, but certainly willing to study.”

The library was the biggest room in all of the Fairbairn Hallow, with ceilings that stretched up to a full ten feet. It was suddenly entirely too small and cramped to breathe in.

Sharkey licked her lips. “D’you - what do you say we get out of here and get a drink?”

***

The door to Elfstan’s study banged against the bookshelf built into the wall, dislodging a butterfly collection and Herblore of the Shire.

In the round doorway, significantly ruffled, gently swaying, and, an observer would have to be very close and deal with the very strong smell of hobbit-brewed whiskey to spot it, with dark lipstick smeared across one side of her mouth, was Sharkey.

“I AM,” she declared, “THE GREATEST HOBBIT WHO EVER LIVED.”

Elfstan apparently ignored her. “Write it down for posterity,” Sharkey continued. “On this, the sixteenth of Blotmath in the year 1487 (by Shire Reckoning), I, Fíriel Fairbairn, achieved the unachievable, and okay we just made out a little before she passed out, but that’s pretty good for me, and hey, why aren’t you paying attention?”

Her brother handed her a sheet with some scrawls across it. She read it, closing one eye to shut out the three other images swirling in her vision. “Sindarin,” she said flatly. “Oo-ee.” She looked closer.

“Are you sure?” she said, the dread chill of sobriety reaching its fingers into her hindbrain.

“I think so.”

Sharkey looked back at the sheet. “Damn,” she muttered. 

***

The Scholar was up in the tower of Elostirion, apparently to see where the palantír had once been until it was put on the ship that carried Frodo and Gandalf off into the Undying Lands.

Hobbits said that they could see all the way to the Sea from the top of Elostirion. Sharkey was firmly of the opinion that they were full of crap, mostly because by the time she’d managed to get to the top of the tower, her mind was mostly preoccupied with not dying.

“Stairs,” she wheezed once she’d made it to the top of the tower.

The Scholar was looking out over the railing. She made a sound, not really laughing, more a puff of humour without any of the effort behind it. “The hangover’s probably not helping, is it?”

“Definitely not.” She walked towards the opposite railing. “Don’t mind me, I’m going to throw up over the side.”

“I would’ve thought you’d inherited your grandfather’s constitution,” said the Scholar behind her. It sounded like she was smiling.

Sharkey wheezed over the railing until her mouth stopped tasting like she’d gargled pennies. “Granddad never had to deal with stairs while hungover,” she said. “Confusticate and bebother, I don’t know how you did it.”

The Scholar made another sound like laughter. Sharkey wiped her mouth, looked out over the railing, and said, “But I reckon it must be different for half-elves.”

There was silence. A breeze drifted through the tower, Sea-borne warmth now chilling into proper wintery discomfort.

The Scholar sighed. “How did you find out?”

Sharkey nodded and turned. The Scholar was still looking out over the opposite railing. “Elfstan’s been studying Sindarin. ‘Unglittering Gold’ - ‘All that is gold does not glitter’ - it wasn’t really a subtle pseudonym.” She added, “Er - I mean, your high-”

“Don’t,” the Scholar said. “Please don’t. I’m not that, not here.”

Sharkey took the point. “I’d like to know your name, though,” she muttered. “Your real one.”

The Scholar of Gondor turned her head and gave Sharkey a sad little smile.

“Eldariel,” Eldariel said.

Sharkey nodded. “The princess-”

“No, Sharkey, I’m not. Not here.”

“But you are.” Sharkey suddenly felt like throwing up over the rail again. “Oh ye heavens, you’re the prin-”

Eldariel whipped around, grey and black cloak and dress swirling like a woolen thunderstorm. “No, I’m not. Not here, Sharkey, do you understand? Here, I’m a scholar. I can do what I want, study what I wish. That-” she waved a hand vaguely, “-person, that girl, she’s back in Gondor.”

She raked her fingers through her hair and took a deep, dramatic breath. “I am the daughter of King Elessar, the first daughter of the House of Telcontar. Do you know what that makes me?”

Sharkey considered this. “A pri-”

“Nothing, Sharkey. I’m nothing.” She made another noise like laughing, only this time there was no humour behind it. “Worse than that - I’m a token. An asset. Do you know what the name Fíriel is from? It’s from a princess of Gondor who was married off to Arvedui of Arnor and disappeared from history all together. That’s what the princess of Gondor is meant to do, just exist and be happy until you continue the family line.”

She turned back to the railing. When she spoke again, it sounded as though her voice was coming from very far away. “My brother will be the one who takes the throne, and he’ll be the one who’ll stay in history. Stories will be told about the great deeds he’ll do once Father passes and Mother fades away. He’ll go on great quests with Elboron and Elfwine, I have no doubt, and they’ll probably find the Entwives and the Beornings and maybe even the two Blue Wizards. And what will people what remember about me?”

Sharkey looked out over the railing. She didn’t know how far half-elf eyes could see, but for the first time in her life, she thought she could just spot the Sea.

She almost said: The tip of your nose wiggles when you talk.

You hold your forehead in your palm when you read.

You are personally offended by the concept of were-worms.

When you get frustrated, you run your fingers through your hair to try and make it as messy as you can. It never works.

When we got drunk together, we walked out on a snowy night and you started crying. Snowflakes were glittering gold in the lamplight, and you’d decided that it was the prettiest thing you’d ever seen.

Your first kiss felt like revenge against your parents, and I’m terrified to ask for a second kiss because it might taste like you falling in love with me.

At the same time she thought: But people won’t remember that. People don’t deserve to have those moments remembered, written down, because that version of you belongs to me.

But for now - and tomorrow - and forever - that’s what I’ll remember about you.

She said: “To hell with what other people remember about you.”

Eldariel looked over at her.

“To hell with what other people remember about you,” Sharkey said again, a bit more certainly this time. “Maybe centuries later, somewhere, someone’ll read ‘And Old Samwise had a granddaughter named Fíriel Fairbairn,’ and they’ll say, ‘Fíriel Fairbairn? I wonder who she was,’ and they’ll read, ‘And King Elessar had a daughter,’ and they’ll say, ‘I wonder what she did.’

“But by then it’s all a story, and people will forget the truth, or they’ll remember it accidentally, but in some way it’ll carry on. What’ll be important,” she reached up and took Eldariel’s hand in hers, “is what we do today.”

What happened next - who’s to say?

***

And maybe it happened And maybe it didn’t. Oh! Who is a hobbit to say Of those dirty codgers, Those damn gossip-dodgers, Who packed up and all went away.

- Chorus of a traditional Undertowers drinking song

[glenngaylord]

OUTFEST 2020 FILM REVIEWS:  The Rest Of The Fest

As the curtain closes on another Outfest, this one presented under extremely unusual circumstances, I sit in awe of the filmmakers and of the staff who put together not only a great group of films, but managed to creatively bring them to its audience online and at drive-in screenings.  Typically, you find yourself having to choose one film over several others, but with this new format, you have a great chance of seeing everything you want.  In past years, I found myself lucky if I saw 15 films.  This year I saw 23 features and 4 shorts programs out of the 160 on the schedule.  

As it’s impossible to get full reviews submitted for everything while the festival is still chugging along, I wanted to write capsules of the remaining films not covered at TheQueerReview.com .  Please visit the website for all the other reviews I wrote as well as those by my colleagues.

THE OBITUARY OF TUNDE JOHNSON ★★★★★

Melding a Groundhog Day-style concept with police violence against black people, this stunning film could not be more prescient and emotionally overpowering.  A black gay teenager relives his moment of murder over and over again, with slight shifts in the narrative taking us to someplace unexpected and earned.  Director Ali LeRoi directs his first feature as if he’s been doing it all of his life and has interpreted Stanley Kalu’s ingenious script with a great cinematic approach.  Gorgeously framed, beautifully acted, written, and directed, this is one of the most powerful films of 2020.

TWO EYES ★★★★★

I can’t form sentences here so I’m gonna vomit out words:  Instant classic. Glorious. Set over three centuries seamlessly melding a triptych of stories about gender identity.  I’m a blubbering mess.  Fantastic and very funny last line.  Travis Fine is a very gifted filmmaker who screams love child of Terrence Malick and Kelly Reichardt.  Heartbreaking. Inspiring. Unforgettable.  Montana is so beautiful.  Barstow is not.  A perfect film for anyone who wants to find their place in the world. I wouldn’t complain if TUNDE and TWO EYES both received Best Picture Oscar nominations.  

DRAMARAMA  ★★★★

Theater nerds rule in this incredibly endearing, early 90s set film about a group of high schoolers discovering themselves in one night at a ridiculous Murder Mystery-themed party.  Hilarious script, vivid and wonderful performances, and the opposite of a “Coming Out” movie in the best possible way.  Jonathan Wysocki has given us The Breakfast Club for air-kissing, mid-Atlantic accented freaks and geeks. 

CICADA ★★★★

What happens when a traumatized, bisexual man who has more sex partners than any standard montage can contain slows things down to concentrate on one kind but also traumatized young man?  This elliptically told film has a fun, flirty side but carries its heaviness with great ease.  A terrific feature debut for director/writer/editor/lead actor Matthew Fifer. 

THE STRONG ONES (LOS FUERTES) ★★★★

From Chile comes this sexy, moving story of two men at cross purposes who form a beautiful bond.  Set against some stunning scenery and mining the chemistry between its two leads for everything it has, I am half-jokingly calling it Brokeback Andes.  It’s so much more than that trite, hackneyed comparison.  

MONSOON ★★★1/2

Director Hong Khaou’s followup to Lilting sets its sights on modern day Vietnam as Henry Golding’s character visits to find a suitable place to distribute his mother’s ashes.  It’s a terrific mediation on a gay man finding a sense of belonging in a place he’s never been and Golding proves himself to be a subtle, compelling actor.  Perhaps a little too quiet and reflective, the film makes up for what it lacks in narrative drive with its awe-inspiring cinematography and immersive qualities.  

P.S. BURN THIS LETTER PLEASE ★★★★1/2

What an unexpected surprise.  Michael Seligman and Jennifer  Tiexiera’s documentary about a treasure trove of letters dating back to the 1950s brings us into the world of drag queens from almost 70 years ago.  With many of its subjects not only alive but in fine form telling their stories and the dishiest voiceover readings ever to grace a film, I was not only thoroughly entertained, but I didn’t expect to weep like Laura Dern at the end.  Oh, this is so so so so good. 

MINYAN ★★★★

Eric Steel’s feature debut has its own unique tone and a star making performance by Samuel H. Levine, a spitting image of a young Al Pacino/Sylvester Stallone hybrid.  With its 1980s Jewish Brighton Beach backdrop, this powerful yet subtle film about a young man coming to terms with his sexuality as well as his place within his religion, it’s a stunning debut.  Ron Rifkin is stellar as Levine’s charming grandfather and Alex Hurt (William Hurt’s son) has his father’s intensity.  Fantastic, lived-in production design which feels like its decade without resorting to the usual candy colored tropes and a evocative score makes this a memorable experience.  Reminiscent at times of On The Waterfront, this film puts a fresh new spin on a coming of age tale and finds so many moving moments from first sex to an elderly gay couple hiding in plain sight.  A must-see. 

SHIVA BABY ★★★★

Writer/Director Emma Seligman must have studied Rosemary’s Baby quite a bit with this angsty story set mostly at a memorial service.  Rachel Sennott is fantastic as a young lesbian who moves from one cringe-worthy moment to the next in an attempt to avoid as much conflict as possible.  The great supporting cast includes Polly Draper, Fred Melamed, Dianna Agron, Molly Gordon, and Jackie Hoffman, all note perfect.  Less a comedy and more of an emotional horror story, Seligman knows how to make the best of a cramped space and throw up an endless variety of obstacles.  You just want Sennott’s Danielle to get her goddamned bagel with lox and cream cheese, but the fates have something else, something better, in store. 

COWBOYS ★★★★

Steve Zahn gives a career best performance in this moving story of a father with mental health issues and his trans son escaping into the Montana wilderness.  Sasha Knight makes an impressive debut as Zahn’s son and Jillian Bell expertly walks that fine line between villain and empathetic character.  Its comparisons to Butch Cassidy And The Sundance Kid are not coincidental.  Not perfect by any stretch, it may feel fairly conventional, but it’s tackling a vibrant subject matter.  Extra points for giving Ann Dowd a role where we don’t hiss at her. 

BREAKING FAST ★★★

Solid romcom with a Muslim backdrop, this very tight, deceptively simple script provides just the right amount of sparks between its charming leads, Haaz Sleiman and Michael Cassidy.  While structurally not breaking new ground, the entry point into a world we don’t see enough of on screen coupled with food porn for days makes this a fun, funny, goes down easy delight.

ASK ANY BUDDY ★★★1/2

Q: Daddy!  Daddy!  What were the 70s like down at the Piers in NYC?   A: Oh shut up and watch this movie.  

An experimental collage of vintage gay porn and archival footage from the disco, pre-AIDS heyday gives this film a mesmerizing, museum installation quality.  While technically without a story, you feel like you’ve gone on a journey nonetheless.  Would pair well with William Friedkin’s Cruising. 

DRY WIND ★★★1/2

Slow cinema meets voyeuristic gay porn in this one of a kind Brazilian exploration an arid small town, a workers’ union crisis, and a man obsessed with the Tom Of Finland drawing come to life who motors into his life.  Overlong and a little too obtuse as it goes along, it’s worth watching this Alice In Wonderland takes a quaalude, gets a very hairy back, and has a lot of sex in the dirt. 

NO HARD FEELINGS ★★★★

This year’s Teddy Award Winner at the Berlin Film Festival, Faraz Shariat’s film uses its backdrop of a refugee camp in Germany to tell the story of Iranians and Irani-Germans searching for a better life.  Its three leads bring a spark and youthful energy to a story with devastating undercurrents.  A wrenching glimpse into the emotional effects an oppressive culture has on its people, yet told with a driving pulse. 

LILY TOMLIN: THE FILM BEHIND THE SHOW ★★★

A look behind the scenes as Lily Tomlin and wife Jane Wagner workshop their legendary 1980s Broadway show, The Search For Signs Of Intelligent Life In The Universe.  It’s great to see these two at the top of their game and get a glimpse of their creative process, but this documentary is almost devoid of incident and feels more like a sweet gift to the fans than a fully realized film. 

SHORTS: WHAT A BOY NEEDS ★★★1/2

A mixed bag here of people searching for excitement, I found a couple of gems here nonetheless.  Not to take away from the shorts I don’t mention, I want to single out two exceptional films. Ruben Navarro’s Of Hearts And Castles looks great, has a beautiful vibe, and shows us a lovely connection forming right before our eyes.  Kiko’s Saints proves highly original as we follow a female Japanese artist on assignment in France become obsessed with a gay couple who have a lot of sex on the beach.  Combining animation with fairly explicit sex, I loved seeing the male gaze from a female perspective. 

THE CAPOTE TAPES ★★1/2

I love Truman Capote. I grew up at a time when smart authors found themselves on talk shows and were treated like superstars.  I’ve read his books and always have been in awe of his ability to be himself.  Featuring never-before-heard tapes of Capote’s friends being interviewed by George Plimpton, unfortunately, I don’t think this repetitive documentary gave me anything all that new.  It’s still touching at times and for the uninitiated, this is a great overview of his life, but I was watching the clock. 

OUT LOUD ★★★1/2

A moving look at the Trans Chorus of Los Angeles as they prepare for their first public performance.  With its ticking clock storyline, director Gail Willumsen expertly interweaves storylines of its founder and members.  As such, you really learn what’s a stake and what it means to them.  I was lucky enough to see the chorus perform David Bowie’s Ziggy Stardust a few years ago and basked in the power of its mere existence…and was also ridiculously entertained. 

TWILIGHT’S KISS (SUK SUK)  ★★★1/2

This quiet charmer form Hong Kong shows us something we almost never get to see on film - two elderly gay men meeting and falling in love.  The fact that both have been married to women doesn’t stop them from exploring their feelings.  A little to gentle by half, I still was in awe of this rarity.

[erekuri]

OK BIG BRAIN TIME! Joker Game x BABYMETAL AU

For anyone who may not know who BABYMETAL is, they are a Japanese idol group/metal band with 2 (formerly 3) members. They are popular for the way they combine Japanese idol cuteness with heavy metal, and some have dubbed their style “kawaii metal.” Their music is amazing for real please check it out! 

BABYMETAL are loved in Japan and around the world, and they’ve met many big names in metal/rock such as Metallica, Judas Priest, and Dragonforce. They have choreography in their songs and their performances are really fun to watch :D

So, I was in the shower when this idea came to me. Since originally they had 3 members, I was thinking that the 160 cm trio of Miyoshi, Hatano, and Jitsui would be well-suited for this. BABYMETAL also consists of a band, so the other 5 spies would be in said band, and Yuuki would be the manager. So it’ll look like this:

IDOLS:

Miyoshi (center/lead vocalist)

Hatano (vocalist/rapper)

Jitsui (main vocalist)

BAND:

Kaminaga (drums/waidako)

Tazaki (keyboard/piano)

Fukumoto (lead guitar/violin)

Odagiri (bass guitar/cello/harp/acoustic)

Amari (secondary guitar/trumpet/saxophone) 

IDOLS:

By center, I mean that Miyoshi will almost always be at the center of their photos and is deemed as the ‘main member.’ (In K-pop terms, think of visuals and centers such as Yoona from Girls’ Generation or Kai from EXO.) He’s the member who will usually take the lead in interviews because he’s the oldest, though all 3 seem to have drunk from the fountain of youth lol. Jitsui is the main vocalist, so he gets the most lines as well as the high notes if the song has one. Hatano gets the least, but generally the line distribution is even enough that there are little complaints. He will also rap on occasion (think Linkin Park or Hollywood Undead) but most of their songs are singing-based. Hatano and Miyoshi will also do adlibs while Jitsui is known for his stunning vocal runs. Even though Jitsui is their main vocalist, Miyoshi is the one who gets put in the center of their dance formations more often. 

Ah right, their voices. (Since I am more familiar with K-pop rather than J-pop vocalists, they’ll be my main references here. My apologies in advance.)

Jitsui is the main vocalist. He needs a sweet voice to compliment his sweet face, but it’s also gotta be powerful. Ryeowook from Super Junior would be the perfect fit here, because it’s got this sweet tone to it but also nice and clear and the high notes would sound like a literal choir of angels. 

Miyoshi’s vocal color would be like Suho from EXO. Clear and sweet and comforting. His falsettos are the most flawless thing you’ve ever heard, and the emotion he puts into his singing is on another level. His voice is, in a word, PRETTY.

Since Hatano does both vocals and rap, I’m thinking his vocal color would be like Key from SHINee. With that higher tone he has, it suits Hatano’s appearance and personality wonderfully. Both his singing and rapping are amazing and he likes to scream sometimes to hype up the crowd lol.

(All vocalists mentioned are from SM Entertainment groups,,, damn, I really said SINGERS ONLY and I really like all 3 choices I made omg. MY MIND.)

(In the real BABYMETAL, member Su-metal sings the majority but I am not deep enough in the fandom to know how fans feel about it. I don’t mind too much since the songs slap either way lmao. And I think the balance is nice but that’s just me. However, for the 160cm trio, I had to even it up because I am someone who typically prefers more even line distributions when it comes to idol groups.)

As for their dancing, BABYMETAL’s choreography is a unique one where 1 is center and the other 2 are backup. For my AU, however, I’d make the choreo more like EXO-CBX in that it’s suited for 3 people, while also taking notes from Super Junior (for their earlier metal songs) or Dreamcatcher (for their famous ‘anime-style’ music.) 

BAND:

Because they’re a metal group, Kaminaga will almost always be on the drum kit, and by God he is good at it. The drum kit he uses is one you’ll see in most metal bands, but he also uses an auxiliary drum kit (which is electrical and has sensors and stuff) for the group’s more experimental tracks. When they want to go something more traditional or epic, he’ll bring out his wadaiko (traditional Japanese drum) and go at it. He’s also the unofficial leader of the band. 

Tazaki plays the keyboard. I personally envision Tuomas from Nightwish when I think of this position, but there are other keyboard players in metal bands out there that are fun to watch. Tazaki is generally a calm person, but when he plays he headbangs like crazy. He’ll play the piano when they do softer songs, and his pretty fingers are mesmerizing to watch. Oh yeah, and the keyboard he uses is a synthesizer due to the underlying ‘pop’ aspect in their music, considering it’s for an idol group.

Fukumoto would be the main/lead guitarist. He’d get pretty much all the solos (though Amari might join in as the secondary guitarist). He’s hailed as one of the best guitarists of all time, and he plays a major role in the musical arrangements of the songs. He’s also a prodigy when it comes to the violin, which he’ll sometimes use instead of his guitar for a more ‘symphonic’ sound. In reality, he’ll switch between them as he sees fit. 

Odagiri is the reliable bass guitar; underrated, but without them, the song just isn’t the same. As the bass player, he helps to balance out the guitars. He plays the cello when they want a jazzier theme or an orchestra kind of sound, and when they go the traditional route, in comes the harp. When the boys want to sing an acoustic version of their songs to show off their vocals, Odagiri will be the one to play the acoustic guitar to accompany them.

Amari is the secondary guitarist, and arguably the most versatile player in the band. He can not only play the electric guitar, but he can also play the trumpet and the saxophone. Their jazz songs would require them to be in the same song, but he can switch between the two easily enough, provided he’s given enough time to transition (otherwise he’ll simply use a pre-recording of one while playing the other live.) When a song requires both violin and guitar, Amari will take the role of the lead guitar while Fukumoto plays violin.

(The instruments mentioned are their main ones, though I’m sure they could all play more if they wanted to. I just don’t have the brain cells to spare for this lol. Maybe some other time I can give more thought to the band, but I’m ok with what I have for now. Besides, most metal bands will have 1 person per instrument or will bring in a whole orchestra, so what I have is farfetched ngl, and yet I like it because the D-Agency boys are just so talented at anything they try hehe)

OTHERS:

As stated earlier, Yuuki would be their manager. He is known to all as just “Yuuki.” He is the one who brought the group together, as the trio were originally part of an idol group but were mostly in the back, while the others were notable musicians who had no band to belong to. In his prime, he was an acclaimed songwriter and producer, but he’s also super happy doing what he does as a manager/producer for the 160cm trio and the band. He fought tooth and nail for the formation of this group and is more than satisfied with their explosive popularity. He will often clash with the CEO of their label, IG Productions, because he refuses to let them hold back the band’s growth. 

Now, y’all may be wondering… where is Sakuma??? 

Sakuma, Gamo Jirou, Yuriko Nogami, and Miyoko Yasuhara are all well-respected actors under the same agency (not IG but another one lol.) 

Yuriko and Miyoko are mostly in theatre, but Yuriko is a recurring favorite in J-dramas while Miyoko is popular in movies. 

Jirou is super versatile, and he’d be kinda like Robert Pattinson in the sense that he will often make fun of the stuff he’s been in. He likes to take on bizarre roles that test his limits as an actor, and his range is pretty much unmatched. He’s recognizable but people will still lose themselves in his brilliant acting. He is more often seen in movies, but sometimes he’ll star in a drama, especially one where he plays a villain/antagonist or a second-lead.

Sakuma is another J-drama favorite, and he has a legion of fangirls; as of late, those fangirls include aunties who love his clean and respectable image. He made headlines once when he shaved his head for a role as a soldier because it was such a shock that he looked as handsome as ever. He loves being in movies with a lot of angst/sad endings, and don’t get me started on how sad some of the dramas he’s in can be. And as a bonus, his characters almost always die and oof it really breaks people’s hearts. Occasionally, he’ll take on a more light-hearted role such as a friendly teacher. 

Sakuma and Gamo are both openly gay, and many fangirls will wish for them to find boyfriends because they want these actors to be happy. They have starred in movies together and their friendship off-screen can be considered ‘iconic.’ Fans ship them platonically. 

Sakuma would also be a major fanboy of the D-Agency band, and Miyoshi is easily his favorite member. He attends their concerts in disguise because he has a reputation, damn it. One time he dragged his actor friends along, and Gamo fell for Jitsui HARD. Meanwhile, Yuriko eventually starts a romance with the bassist, Odagiri, when she wanders backstage by accident on her way to the restroom. (Sakuma is jealous as fuck that she managed to get backstage but he won’t admit it.)

Alain, Marie, Jean, and Johann are all foreign celebrities, who are all wildly popular in Japan. Marie would be a popular actress who travels to Japan to participate in a film (directed by Jean, a highly-respected director) that takes place there. It’d be a collaboration project between a French studio and a Japanese one. Alain would be a famous pop artist in France, and his songs can be meaningful and uplifting or super raunchy and inappropriate as hell, no in-between. He goes to Japan because he’s interested in their newest idol/heavy metal fusion group. Johann is a talented lyricist/producer and he prefers to write songs for other people and avoid the drama that comes with being a celebrity. Alain drags him to Japan because why not?

END:

Back to the band, their debut song would be ‘Reason Triangle’. ‘Double’ would be for a J-drama collab in which Sakuma finally gets to meet his favorite group (???) idk but their discography would also include songs like:

Taking Off - ONE OK ROCK

Fukagyaku Replace - My First Story

Take Off - 2PM

Cosmic Railway - EXO

CORE PRIDE - UVERworld

Signal- TK from Ling tosite sigure

FEED THE FIRE - coldrain

Kyouran Hey Kids!! - THE ORAL CIGARETTES

And that’s all I can think of for this AU. I can’t believe I wrote so much but this idea just wouldn’t leave my head so I had to write it all down. I hope y’all enjoy my ramblings lol. 

[lovelylogans]

my eyes are wide to all your lies (’cause you’re not that discreet)

ao3 | read my other fics | coffee?

warnings: food mentions, mentions of getting rid/lessening anxiety, human experimentation (not as dark as it sounds, but still figured a warning would be good), fusion, deceit

pairings: royality

words: 6,269

notes: april fools, i got you! and now i present the idea that warranted my first block in four years of internet friendship and had me cackling in unholy, childish glee the whole time i was plotting and writing it: it’s a phineas and ferb au! yeah, you read that right. title from “busted” from phineas and ferb.

There was one hundred and four days of summer vacation before school came along just to end it.

So the annual problem that the Sanders-Prince brothers had was finding a new way to spend it. They’d built rockets, fought mummies, climbed up the Eiffel tower, discovered things that didn’t exist, given monkeys showers. They’d surfed tidal wives, created nanobots, located Frankenstein’s brain. They’d found a dodo bird, painted a continent, and driven their brother insane. 

The question that was posed every day over toast-with-heaps-of-jam then had to be posed:

“Logan, what are we gonna do today?”

Logan Sanders nudged his glasses up his nose with a thoughtful expression. Logan had the expression of the teacher’s pet, the nerd that never got in trouble beyond perhaps reading during class, or correcting a teacher, but behind that calm, know-it-all expression and dorky glasses laid a mad scientist who had not yet graduated high school. 

“We could recreate Tesla’s death ray again,” he suggested mildly.

“Logan, we did that three weeks ago.” Roman groaned. “No doing things again! It has to be bigger, better, bolder, newer.”

Roman Prince, on the other hand, had the exact look of a troublemaker that tended to have teachers hollering “Put that away!” and “Prince, principal’s office!” and got him parked in the front row of the room before he could scoot off to the back (usually next to his stepbrother, which compounded the problems, not that Logan would ever let himself get caught.) He gladly lived up to the reputation and strove for each spectacle to be bigger and grander than the last.

“Mom!” Virgil exclaimed, eyes huge, made to seem even wider by the dark eyeshadow smeared beneath them.

Their older brother (or stepbrother, to Roman) Virgil Sanders, had the exact face of a punk-rock emo kid, the sort of boy who skipped school and missed curfew and never cared. In actuality, he was kind of a tattletale, or perhaps more like the boy in back who muttered “I don’t know about this guys” while the other kids were doing things like experimenting with fireworks that they’d stolen from their older brother’s stash. Virgil’s ongoing pursuit of the summer was to catch Roman and Logan in the middle of one of their dangerous plots, which would surely end in their serious injuries and or deaths I know I look like the bad guy but you two have to be safe okay you could get seriously hurt or seriously DEAD do you understand me Roman and Logan D-E-A-D dead!

“That’s nice, dear,” Caroline Sanders-Prince said absently from where she was at the stove. Virgil groaned and put his head down on the table, floppy bangs narrowly missing the butter dish.

“Why do I even bother,” Virgil grumbled.

Roman batted his eyelashes at his stepbrother. “Because you love us?”

“Gross,” Logan muttered, from behind a thick tome entitled Understanding Chinese Engineering Doctoral Students in U.S. Institutions: A Personal Epistemology Perspective that he’d pulled from nowhere, because he was a boy genius who read books with very long titles like that. “Emotions.”

“Gross,” Virgil snapped. “Mom, Roman has the platypus on the table!”

“That’s nice, dear.”

“Aw, Deceit wouldn’t do anything, would he?” Roman crooned to their pet platypus, inexplicably named Deceit, who knickered at Virgil dutifully. Virgil pulled a face at him, because he did not trust that platypus.

“He just wants some bacon!” Roman exclaimed.

“Can platypuses have bacon?”

“Platypi,” the book corrected from where Logan’s face had been. “They’re technically carnivorous, so—yes. He’d probably prefer larvae or freshwater shrimp, though.”

“Gross,” Roman said, as he ensured Deceit had all the bacon he wanted and lowered him back onto the floor. “And so not the point! Logan! We have to figure out what to do today!”

The brothers continued to bicker, not noticing as Deceit the platypus crept outside, looked around, and pulled on his hat before entering into the secret chute that would catapult him to his day job: an animal agent for the OWCA, protecting the tri-state area from one inator-enamored mad scientist at a time.

“More Tesla?”

“Logan. We spent all of that week. On Tesla. We have to do something fresh! Something bold! Something we invent!”

“I still can’t believe you invented a death ray and you thought that was a good idea,” Virgil said, ready to work himself up into an anxiety-induced tizzy. “It’s a DEATH ray, death is right there in the name!”

Logan frowned at him over the pages of his book, which he was somehow halfway through already. “We wouldn’t have killed people,” he said. “Flies, probably. Or mosquitoes. Most likely.”

“Oh, that makes me feel so much better,” Virgil said. “Thanks, a death ray for flies or mosquitoes, most likely! What could have possibly gone wrong?!”

“How is it possible for you to worry so much?” Roman said, from where he was constructing an elaborate toast-tower with the remaining slices they hadn’t eaten, yet. He was currently sealing together the walls with jam and carefully carving out the windows for the tiny toast-people to survey their kitchen table kingdom. “I never worry so much.”

“Yeah, I worry enough for you, and Logan, and your little scout friend,” Virgil grumbled. “I have all the anxiety of this neighborhood combined into one person.”

Roman perked up, nearly sending a tiny toast-family sprawling. “Hang on, what did you just say?”

“Oh,” Virgil said, because he knew his stepbrother well enough to see his “new idea! new idea!” face, and he also knew him well enough to fear it. “Oh, no.”

“Oh, yes,” Roman said gleefully. “Logan! I know what we’re gonna do today!”

“Run me through it again.”

Roman sighed loudly from where he was stationed in a treetop, twisting a screw carefully into place. Half of Logan’s body was underneath their latest monstrous machine.

“Okay. So. The basic plan is, we’re going to see if we can put you in this machine to ease out some of your worries, your fears—enough so that it doesn’t overwhelm you constantly, not too much to change who you are as a person,” Roman began. “And if you hate it, we can reverse it, no problem.”

“When you say basic plan,” Virgil said apprehensively, and Logan rolled partially out from under the machine, lifting the welding mask off his face so that he could squint at Virgil, looking strange without his glasses.

“Without the scientific explanations that would inevitably confuse those of lesser intelligence.”

“Oh, thanks.”

“You know what he means,” Roman said, and then, “Oh, God, here he comes, quick, I—“

Roman made a half-aborted gesture as if to climb down the tree, and then hastily redirected his energy toward straightening his shirt, patting his hair into place, and setting up the most swaggeringly handsome pose he could manage in a tree. Virgil, looking down the street, tried his best to hide his smirk.

Patton Hart had lived down the street since they’d moved in after their parents got married, and his crush on Roman had ignited not long after the first box was taken off the truck. Patton Hart had the exact face that had teachers picking him for messenger duty, to guide a new kid around the school, or to provide a good face for the school—if he hadn’t volunteered for it already. He had quite the sprawl of extracurriculars under his belt, including, amongst others, Knitting Club, Baking Club, Pun Appreciation Club, and, most notably, leader of the Fireside Scouts—as noted by his constant orange sash that clashed horribly with his usual blue polo and gray hoodie.

The mutual crushes were a subject of constant private heckling between Logan and Virgil at Roman, and it would have been proven to further public mocking if Patton wasn’t so deeply, genuinely nice.

Patton bounced into the yard, beaming. “Hi, Virgil!”

“Hey, Patton,” Virgil said gruffly. (Patton had even charmed Virgil, a feat which back in the feuding-stepsibling days had stunned Roman to no end.)

“Hi, Roman,” he said, grinning up the tree at Roman, batting his eyelashes. “Whatcha dooo-in’?”

“Hey, Patton,” Roman said. “We’re trying to see if we can make Virgil less scared all the time without erasing who he is as a person.”

Patton flopped out on the sun-soaked grass that was trying valiantly to live in the drought of summer. “Sounds hard, but if anyone can do it, it’s you two. Hi, Logan,” he added to Logan’s knees.

Logan grunted and extended a hand out from under the machine. “Round-nose pliers.”

Patton cheerfully plucked the necessary tool from the expansive kit (tool-fetcher for the Sanders-Prince brothers was an unofficial but important extracurricular of his, one that he’d considered making a badge for) but held it in his hands, not yet handing it over. “What’s the magic word?”

“There’s no such thing as magic.”

“Logan.”

Logan let out a long-suffering sigh that he was probably extending, to compensate for the lack of eye contact, which meant no eyeroll. “Please pass the round-nose pliers.”

“Sure thing!” Patton said, carefully placing them in his hand, only to watch his arm disappear back under the machine. 

Roman had managed to get down from the tree, and hastily straightened out his shirt before he leaned against the machine in a way that could not, in any universe, pass as casual. Virgil rolled his eyes and instead resorted to picking at the latest rip in his jeans rather than focus on any of the big and admittedly very scary-looking machine that would somehow help his anxiety.

Shouldn’t it be, like, painted with sunshine and daisies or something, not just some kind of metallic alloy? If it was about taking away fear?

“I’m telling Mom,” Virgil said, mostly out of routine at this point.

“Aren’t you involved today?” Roman said. “And therefore, you’d get in trouble too, so—”

“It’s not about trouble,” Virgil said irritably. “It’s about—it’s about danger. You can’t just keep ramping up experiments without safety measures and without making detailed plans or prototypes or something that you run through any potential side effects or faults that would happen, you could get hurt badly, you could hurt someone else, you could—”

Logan had wheeled himself out from under the machine, removing the mask, and his stare was so knowing that Virgil clamped his mouth shut, looking at a patch of brown grass that wasn’t quite in the reach of the sprinkler.

“We aren’t Dad, Virgil.”

Logan’s voice was pitched low, almost kind, and Virgil screwed his eyes shut.

“Hey,” Roman said, blessedly oblivious as always, “where’s Deceit?”

Deceit was currently parachuting his way onto the balcony of his nemesis’ secret evil lair/tower. As a platypus without opposable thumbs, this was more difficult than most would think.

Especially when a platypus without opposable thumbs was dodging a series of dodgy traps, only to stumble into a table where his nemesis had set up tea.

“Oh. Deceit the platypus, there you are,” Dr. Doofenshmirtz said. “You’re late, and as such, I have revoked your access to cucumber sandwiches!”

Deceit stared at him blankly.

“Oh, I just can’t resist that face,” Dr. Doofenshmirtz said. “Fine, catch!”

Dr. Doofenshmirtz hurled a cucumber sandwich directly at Deceit’s beak like the world’s tiniest, most confusing projectile, which hit his beak, and then expanded outward into a series of wires and cables, snaring Deceit against the wall.

“And now that you are trapped, I shall explain my evil plan!” He said gleefully. 

Deceit let out the platypus equivalent of a sigh, tipping his head back to the ceiling.

“Okay, that should be the last of it,” Roman said, stepping back and wiping his brow free of sweat. Virgil, who had long since retreated to the shade of underneath a tree, grimaced at the machine, and began picking at his freshly-painted black fingernails with a renewed sense of fervor. There were already tiny chips of black littered around him in the dirt.

Patton proffered a little tray of lemonade, and Roman perked up. 

“Oh, hey, thanks, Patton!” He said happily, picking up the ice-cold glass and pressing it against his forehead for a moment, before taking a healthy gulp from the red-and-white striped straw.

“Logan, Virgil?” Patton offered, lifting the tray. “I have cookies too.”

There was a brief break as everything went snack-crazed for a bit, the boys bumping into each other and elbowing each other aside as they took their cookies of preference.

“So,” Patton said, taking his own sip of his lemonade (blue-and-white striped straw) “Virgil goes in there, you press that switch, and he’ll just... he’ll be less worried about things?”

“Well—” Logan began, but Roman broke in, smiling winningly at Patton.

“Essentially, yep!”

“Well,” Logan repeated, “Actually, Patton, I was surveying the mechanics, and it could potentially be aided if someone who produced... less worry and had a... how should we say, sunnier outlook on life stepped into the machine, too.”

Patton blinked at him, and Virgil was already surging toward the machine, spreading his arms, as if to bar anyone from approaching it.

“No. No way,” Virgil declared immediately. “It’s bad enough that you looped me into this plan, but there’s no way that you’re bringing Patton into it too!”

“Patton joins our plans daily,” Roman pointed out. “Honestly, it’s really more of a shock that you joined in, Fret-a-lot-saw.”

Virgil squinted at him. “Are you calling me a tool?”

“Shucks, kiddo, if it’ll help, I’m helping,” Patton said, setting aside his lemonade.

Virgil was already shaking his head again, eyes wild, like a spooked horse. 

“Why did I even let you get this far?” He asked himself. “Forget it! I’m going to tell Mom, and she’ll—”

“—say that’s nice dear without looking up from whatever else is taking her attention?” Logan asked archly.

“Fine,” Virgil said, undeterred. “Roman’s Dad, then.”

“It’s baseball season, no chance,” Roman said with a shrug.

“The police, then! The FBI! Anything!” Virgil said. “You two need a wake-up call, okay?! And apparently I’m the only one who’s gonna give it to you!”

“This is why you need the machine,” Roman said, and spread his hands. “Look around! You are literally the only one who is so freaked out about this.”

“Because no one else has common sense!”

“Because everyone else knows we can do it and doesn’t treat us like we can’t!” Roman snapped, and immediately shut his mouth, going bright red. “Um, I mean—I mean, obviously, more like haha, of course we can do it! Because we’re so smart and handsome and—”

Virgil hesitated, and lowered his arms to cross them over his chest. “I didn’t say you couldn’t do it,” he admitted grudgingly. 

“Yeah, well, you act like anything we make will inevitably blow up a lot more than someone who thinks we can,” Roman grumbled, scuffing a sneaker over the grass. 

“Because that happens, Roman! Even to really, really experienced inventors. Besides, aren’t you a little young to be making crazy inventions in the backyard every day?”

“Yes,” Roman said, jutting his chin up proudly. “Yes I am.”

Logan sighed. “We’ve run tests, we’ve made prototypes, will you please just step into the machine? This whole—” Logan gestured broadly with his hand, nose wrinkling, “emotional outburst thing is part of the whole reason we made it.”

Virgil hesitated even more. 

“It can’t hurt to just try, can it?” Patton said, and proffered his hand. “Look, I’ll step in with you. It looks kinda scary.”

Virgil hesitated, licked his lips, and said, “You’re sure about this?”

“Positive,” Logan said, shoving Patton toward him, and hissing in his ear, “Quick, before he changes his mind.”

Patton shot him a fondly exasperated look, before taking Virgil’s hand. Roman glowered at their joined hands for a moment.

Virgil let out a slow breath, and his knuckles went white from how tightly he was squeezing Patton’s hand. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”

“On it,” Patton said, and ducked through first, Virgil shooting a last look that seemed to say help to Logan, before following.

“All right!” Roman whooped, racing over to the machine. “Okay, power on, levels stable... you two ready?”

“I guess,” Virgil grumbled, as Patton chirped, “Yep!”

“Less worry, here we come!” Roman trilled, and flipped the switch.

A veritable lightshow ensued and the machine flared, and smoked, and sparked, as Roman and Logan hastily stepped back.

Roman leaned into his ear, shouting to be heard over the machine. “We are sure about this, right?”

“About 85% sure, yes. Perhaps 80%. 65% sure, at lowest. Probably.”

“Good enough for me,” Roman said, and returned his gaze to the machine just in time for the light and noise to die down.

“All right, Virgil, how are we feeling?” Roman called out. “Less inclined to bust us all the time? Maybe relaxed enough to, like, let us keep experimenting with death rays?”

There was no response.

Roman and Logan both frowned. 

“Patton?” Roman called, a little more desperate. “Hey, sweet-Hart, you okay in there?”

“Um,” a voice floated out from the machine that neither of them had ever heard before, and yet was inherently familiar, “you guys?”

Deceit tuned back in, perfectly timed to excise the Tragic Backstory but to get the full effect of the eventual evil plan of the day.

It had taken years of practice.

“—to make everyone as fearful as I was that day in the checkout line!”

Deceit stared at the massive device cloaked by a sheet.

“Yes, that’s right, Deceit the platypus,” he said gleefully, and whipped off the sheet. “Behold! The Frighteninator!”

Deceit began to work against the bonds, wondering idly if he would break his record of forty-one seconds—very impressive, for a platypus without opposable thumbs, if you asked him.

“Yes, soon the whole tri-state area shall tremble in fear, and therefore, I will be able to easily subjugate them and become emperor of the tri-state area!”

Roman was still waving the smoke out of his face when a silhouette stepped free from the machine, seeming close to stumbling before holding out its arms to keep its balance.

Well. That wasn’t right.

“What,” the voice asked, in that same foreign-familiar tone, “just happened?”

“Oh, excellent,” Logan said, peering closer at the silhouette.

“No, not excellent!” The silhouette wailed and at last the smoke cleared, revealing—

Well, at first Roman wasn’t really sure.

It looked sort of like a person, if not for the extra set of arms protruding at the waist. Their eyes had a huge pair of round glasses set in front of it, but the bags underneath them were pronounced and darker than Roman had ever seen on an actual person. Their polo was stitched in an odd amalgamation of blue, gray, purple, and black, mixing plaid with solid color, and there was an odd sash that—

Oh. 

Oh, wow.

“I dunno,” the stranger said cheerfully, “I think it’s kinda neat! Imagine all the cool stuff we can do with four arms!”

“Virgil?” Logan said, at the same time Roman said, “Patton?”

“Yes,” the voice answered—and that was why it sounded so strange, so familiar—

It was both of their voices at once.

“You,” the creature glowered. “are gonna get so—!”

“—famous, from all that nifty inventing you guys do!” the creature finished.

No, not a creature. It was Virgil and Patton. Patton and Virgil? Patton-and-Virgil, Virgil-and-Patton? God, his stepbrother had fused with his crush, he was so used to weird days (most of them he was responsible for) but this was so weird.

“You’ve fused!” Logan said gleefully. 

“This was not in your plan!” Virgil—or at least, the part of him that was Virgil—cried out.

“Well, we thought it might be a side effect,” Roman admitted. “But hey! Take a few steps, swing your arms around, tell us how you feel, this was definitely on the to-do list, and now I don’t have to deal with any of Logan’s nerdiness infecting me.”

Logan threw a wrench at him half-heartedly and Roman ducked—a well-practiced maneuver.

“Why’ve I got four arms?” the creature said, taking a hobbling step forward, flexing its two right hands. “I mean, all the more stuff I could do with it, probably—Virgil, you’re left-handed, aren’t you?”

The two left arms stretched, almost sulkily. Roman hadn’t known that an arm could stretch sulkily, but leave it to Virgil.

“Fascinating,” Logan breathed, digging hastily and coming up with a legal pad and a pen. “How do you feel? Do you still feel essentially separate, or do you find yourself more as a cohesive, singular unit?”

“I,” the creature said, and then it frowned. “I dunno, I guess? I’m—we’re?—feeling a bit more like one unit the longer we stick together, I think. We think?”

“Singular pronouns, I think,” Logan said, taking notes hastily. “Male ones. As to the four arms question—”

“Forget that,” Roman said. “What do we even call you?”

“Hm,” The creature said, one of its right hands coming up to frame under its chin. “I dunno. Pattil? Virgin?”

Roman snorted a laugh, and the creature slanted a look at him that was distinctly Patton.

“Why’s that funny?”

“It—uh—it isn’t,” Roman admitted sheepishly. “Sorry. Um... how about Moxie? Like, you got moxie, kid, Moxie.”

“Moxie,” they—he—said. “Okay! Sure, sounds cool.”

“How’s it going, though?” Roman said. “Less worried? More worried? Still freaking out about having double the amount of arms as usual?”

Moxie frowned for a second, and then his eyes went far away.

“Oh,” he said, tone equally far away, splitting into two—distinctly Virgil and Patton speaking in unison. “Oh. I can feel what you’re feeling.”

“Is that... good?” Roman asked, but then Moxie wrapped all four arms around himself, as if giving himself a hug.

“Do I want a cookie?” Moxie mumbled to himself, and snorted as if he had made a joke.

“Perhaps that would be good, I’d imagine transfusing into a new form would burn calories,” Logan said. “Plus, I’d like to see your finer motor control.”

Roman picked up the tray, offering it, and Moxie took a few shambling steps closer, eyes squinted in focus, a set of arms spread to keep his balance. 

“Hmm,” Moxie said, and then the right hand lunged forward, nearly knocking the tray over, before squeaking, “Sorry!”

“That’s okay,” Roman said. “New body. Also, can I tell you how weird it is that my friend and my stepbrother are combined into one person now?”

“It’s feeling less and less weird,” Moxie mused, before more carefully reaching and taking a cookie. “Thanks.”

Roman smiled at Moxie. Inexplicably, Moxie blushed, and then Moxie scowled, and then Moxie shoved the cookie into his mouth whole.

“Was that on purpose?” Logan asked mildly, who had not stopped scribbling.

“Mmmhmmm,” he said, trying his hardest not to spew crumbs. “Hungfwy.”

Logan nodded, marking something specifically. “Patton, what did you eat for breakfast? I’m curious as to how many calories this burns.”

“He didn’t,” Moxie blurted out, and then a right hand clapped over his mouth.

“Patton-cakes!” Roman scolded. “For all the times you talk to me about balanced eating!”

“That would explain it,” Logan said. “Take another cookie. Left hand, this time.”

Moxie reached forward with his left hand, taking another cookie, not even knocking over the tray this time.

“Oh, yeah,” Moxie added, “I feel less worried, but I... feel. A lot. So.”

He took another big bite of a cookie.

“So,” Roman said. “Um. Now that we have a fusion machine... what now?”

Roman and Logan exchanged a grin, and Moxie looked nervous for a second, before he grinned, too.

“—what?! Deceit the platypus?!?! How could you have possibly freed yourself from that cucumber sandwich?!”

Deceit held up his OWCA-issue pocketknife in answer.

“Curse you, Deceit the platypus!”

Deceit leapt, and smacked Dr. Doofenshmirtz across the face with his beaver tail.

Virgil had gone inside with the excuse of fixing Patton a plate of some leftover breakfast, but also mostly to avoid the light-and-smokeshow of the machine as Roman and Patton sequestered themselves in the machine.

It hadn’t quite died down by the time Virgil came out, awkwardly holding a plate.

“So,” Logan said, making a table on the notepad, “how long into the fusion do you think it’ll be before one of them gives themself away?”

Virgil snorted. “Five seconds.”

Logan sighed in relief. “I’ve been very tired of hearing about how Patton’s hair shines in the sun. Or about how his eyes sparkle when he laughs. Or—”

Virgil laughed. “That bad?”

“You don’t share a room with him,” Logan said darkly.

“Yeah, well, you didn’t get randomly hit with butterflies because Roman smiled at you while you were fused with Patton. Let me tell you, that felt very gross.”

Logan tilted his head. “Point,” he said, and stole a triangle of toast already spread with jelly. 

“Aftereffects of the fusion?” He said, before jamming the toast triangle into his mouth whole and readying his pen.

Virgil paused, analyzing that, and said, “...weirdly calm.”

Logan nodded, writing this down, and at last the machine died down.

“Okay, Roman, Patton, how are you doing?” Virgil called out. “I’ve got breakfast for you here, if you want it.”

There’s a pause, and then, “I think we want to be Paman?”

“Paman,” Virgil amended, and the fusion stumbled out. He looked almost normal, really—blue and white and red seemed like a much more fitting combination, though the orange sash really was quite hideous, still—except for the four pairs of eyes, the bottom, normally-placed set wearing glasses, the top set clearly Roman’s.

“Ooh, jelly,” Paman said happily, and lumbered toward Virgil, taking the plate with a sunny smile that was obviously Patton. “Thanks!”

He flopped out on the grass, and tucked tidily into his breakfast, eating neatly and swiftly. Virgil and Logan sat, both staring at Paman—Paman seemed to stare back, even as he kept one set of eyes on the breakfast he was eating. 

“I love jelly,” Paman said, and then, 

“I know,” Paman said, “You always—“

A pause. Paman’s cheeks went a bright shade of red, and they put down the toast. Virgil offered a fist, and Logan reached out and tapped it with his own (a gesture that had taken some explanation for Logan to do on command, now.)

“You really...?”

“Is... are you...?”

Paman trailed off, smiled to himself, and went back to his breakfast, still blushing.

Crack! Pow! Bam!

“Not the nose, not the nose!” Dr. Doofenshmirtz wailed.

Paman was absently holding hands with himself when Logan finished his questionnaire, and nodded, flipping through the legal pad, which he’d mostly filled.

“I suppose the next question is, does a fusion more or less maintain its stability when another person is introduced to the fusion?”

Paman blinked. “You can add more than two people to a fusion?” He asked, and he answered himself in his next breath: “A fusion’s made up of all its parts—it can be anyone, as long as they’re comfortable with each other.” Paman then nodded, as if this made sense to him, and looked at Logan.

“Aren’t you curious?” He said, in his more unified voice, and Logan’s eyes gleamed for a moment, before—

“I suppose,” he said, attempting at casual.

“You sure about this?” Virgil asked.

Paman and Logan spoke as one: “Positive.”

Virgil sighed, but got to his feet. “Guess I’ll flip the switch, then.”

Slam! Pow! Ka-CLANK!

“NOT THE FRIGHTENINATOR!”

“Weird, right?” Virgil said, leaning against the machine, as the unnamed fusion (two sets of arms, two sets of eyes) staggered from the machine.

“Fascinating,” he said. “It seems that adding a person aggregates the unusual physical additions—Virgil, hand me my notepad!”

Virgil rolled his eyes, but fetched it for him, handing it to the left set of arms, which immediately uncapped the pen and began to scrawl.

“Will you two keep your emotions away from me,” the fusion complained, and in the next breath he snickered, “Sorry!”

The fusion scrawled away at length, before he offered a professional nod, and one of his hands.

“All four of us,” he said, and Virgil hesitated.

“It’ll be fine,” he promised, and Virgil sighed, before accepting the hand, and walking back into the machine.

With one last well-placed kick, Dr. Doofenshmirtz went down and stayed down. Deceit, after waiting a few moments, rushed over to the Frighteninator, intent on shutting it down, tiny platypus paws roaming the machine, before—

Deceit let out a knicker that would have had his platypus mother scrubbing out his bill with platypus soap.

He walked out, spreading his arms—one set. And one set of eyes.

“We must look like a normal person,” he said.

He wasn’t sure where the thought originated, and if he focused, he could sense the divide—Logan’s intense curiosity, Roman’s inherent passion, Patton’s ambitions of kindness, Virgil’s worry—but he was...

He was...

He reached in his pocket and dug out a phone, turning it to the front-facing camera to squint at himself.

The outfit had actually normalized into something a normal person would wear—a red shirt, a tan jacket, jeans. His face was...

He squinted at himself. He looked so much like—

my eyes—

—my nose—

—my ears—

—my cheekbones—

—and yet so utterly, completely himself. He was... he was....

The name came from somewhere deep inside of him.

“Thomas.”

He lowered the phone, and took a shaky, wobbling step forward, almost like a baby deer, arms pinwheeling to keep his balance. Then another, and another. They got easier all the time.

It’s like we’re a whole new person, one of them, or maybe all of them, marveled, it’s like we’re a real, actual person.

But he was missing something. He was missing...

Oh, but he was so here now, all together now, even if it was imperfect it was wonderful. The laugh that bubbled up from inside him was truly, wholly felt, until—

What’s that, a thought, sharp, that could only be Virgil, and he looked up in time to see the arc of green light split and head for him and for the machine.

“Uh-oh.”

There was no time for this newly-formed body to hurl itself aside, and so the green light caught him full in the chest, and he doubled over, hitting his knees.

What’s happening, what’s happening—

—green light, could have been gamma-based—

—it’s hurting him, it’s hurting usme, we have to—

—knew something bad would happen knew it knew it knew it knew it—

Distantly, an explosion could be heard—but he was on his hands and knees, vision narrowing in, and he tried to suck in a breath. He can hardly breathe. There’s something pounding in him, deep and strong, overwhelming all his other senses, and his vision doubles, and—

whatshappeningwhatshappeningwhatshappening

—their vision goes black around the edges, and the green-brown grass looms large in his vision, and what’s that noise, what’s that noise—

—heart rate increase, sweat increase, this is epinepherine, this is fear, as if you don’t know anything about it shut up shut up shut up they’ll hear they’ll—

There’s the scent of burning, but it’s so far away that he can’t focus on that right now, and their body feels like it’s splitting, like it’s—

—hurts why does it hurt I don’t want to hurt I want my friends I want to go don’t hurt my friends don’t hurt my friends don’t hurt my—

—but he feels molten, like lava, like he’s about to melt and spill everywhere, and he can’t hold, but he needs to hold, he needs—

—no, no, don’t do this to them, they’re just kids, I can take it, let me take it, I have to take it, I have to be the one who takes it, don’t do this to them, dontdontDON’T—

He tears down the middle, and there’s a pain for a moment, so sharp and unbearable that none of them can breathe, and—

Patton blinked up at the sky. For a moment, silence—streaky white clouds on the edges of the horizon not daring to intrude on the clear blue of the sky; a bird soared directly overhead as if to flout the clouds’ cowardice.

The silence broke with a horrible, rasping breath, and Patton pushed himself up onto his side to see Virgil, rolling onto his side, coated in a green glow. Patton hastened toward him, heart in his throat.

“Virgil—”

“Don’t touch him,” Logan said, already at his other side. “We don’t know if the gamma ray will spread back to us if we touch him—”

Patton’s eyes stung, and he swiped at them in irritation—he hated that he cried when he got frustrated, or angry, or scared. “Can’t we do something?!”

“M’fine,” Virgil choked out, eyes screwed shut. “M’fine, it’s getting better already—”

“Virgil, don’t you dare lie,” Roman said, pale and ashen and—and how is Patton almost fluttery at a time like this, can’t his emotions settle instead of seesawing wildly inappropriately from one end of the spectrum from another?!

Virgil took in a purposefully deep breath, let it out, and offered a weak, crooked smile to them. “I’m fine, see? I’m fine.”

The green glow had lessened, at least. He now just looked like he was bathed in the light of a green spotlight, instead of encased in some green, glowing Jell-O. He pushed himself up onto the elbows, and drew a hand over his eyes, before he squinted. 

“Okay, how the fu—I mean heck—do you guys do that everyday?”

“Do what?” Roman said cluelessly, and Patton’s eyes are drawn toward the fusion machine. Or, where the fusion machine was. Now there was just black soot.

Roman shrugged. “Deus ex machina?”

Logan let out a regretful sigh. “Well, at least I have my notes,” he said thoughtfully. “And the blueprints.”

“Boys, I’m home!”

“Hi, Mom,” Roman, Virgil, and Logan called without looking up, Virgil getting a bit more color in his face by the second, green fading and fading until it was just about gone.

“Patton, I’m really okay,” he said, and Patton let out a shaky breath, remembering Moxie, remembering all the fear and worry he felt, but all the care, too—the soft side that he kept almost hidden.

“You better be, mister,” he said. “Or I’ll—I’ll steal all your cookies!”

Virgil’s lips twitched. He looked like a normal person now. “All of them, huh?”

“All of them,” Patton said, nodding judiciously. “For the rest of your life.”

“Sounds serious,” he said, well, seriously.

Logan nudged his glasses up his nose, clearing his throat. “Any lingering effects?”

Virgil held up a shaking hand in answer.

“Let’s get you inside,” Logan said. “And horizontal.”

“Probably a good idea,” Virgil said, and all three of them hastened to help him up—Logan and Virgil grabbing his hands, Roman pushing his back—and Virgil slung an arm around Logan’s shoulders.

“Help me in, would you?” He said loudly, and proceeded to “accidentally” kick Roman in the shin.

“Hey!” Roman said, but his response died when Virgil jerked his head.

And Patton and Roman were left alone in the backyard.

Patton scuffed his shoe over the yard. “That was pretty crazy, today,” he offered timidly.

Roman smiled at him and shoved a hand through his hair—Patton felt his cheeks going red, reminded at this, the most inopportune moment, that Roman knew how attractive he found that, now.

“Good crazy?”

Patton felt his face split into a grin. “You kidding?” He declared. “That was awesome! Well, until the random gamma ray of despair, I guess. But other than that!”

Roman laughed, too, and he said, “He’ll be okay. Gamma rays like that tend to be really temporary.”

Patton sucked in a breath, looked into the living room window, where he could see Logan already pestering Virgil, waving around his notepad before beginning to scrawl with a single-minded fervor. He smiled again.

“I trust you,” he said. 

“Yeah, I know,” Roman said, soft, and Patton inched closer.

“So,” Roman said. “Seeing jelly all over your face was what really sold you on me, huh?”

Patton smiled wider. “I think it was a cute look. But I think all of your looks are cute, so, you know.”

Roman smiled, and he offered, “So, um. Do you wanna... do you wanna get ice cream sometime?”

“I’d love that,” Patton said. His cheeks hurt from smiling so big.

“Because you don’t have to you if you don’t want to,” Roman added hastily. “I mean, I get it if you don’t—”

Patton put a finger on Roman’s lip, remembering too much of Paman’s self-criticism, his loneliness, his doubt.

“Roman,” he said. “Dearest. I’d. Love. That.”

Roman’s face broke out into his own relieved smile. Patton hoped he was remembering Paman, too—the butterflies in his stomach, the way he’d felt when Roman had smiled at Moxie, when their hands had first brushed together.

“Pick you up at seven tomorrow?” Patton offered.

“Yeah,” Roman said breathlessly, and he cleared his throat. “Um, yeah. Okay.”

Patton beamed, and leaned forward to press a kiss against Roman’s cheek, watching in delight as Roman’s face went red, too. Patton took his hand.

“C’mon,” he said. “We gotta go make sure Virgil feels better by giving him lots of hugs and sugar.”

“Okay,” Roman repeated, and Patton tugged him inside, where Virgil and Logan were already bickering, and curled up in a corner was—

“Oh! There you are, Deceit!”

[chocobutt-trash]

Hiya! You write beautifully and you're probably sick of me saying that by now because I say it all the time and every comment I make on all your fics.. But there's many times when I'm engaging with your writing that I need to pause and just say "wow." So it got me thinking that you've probably read a lot of interesting books and I was wondering if you would share some of your favorite fiction titles. It's almost blasphemy to talk about non fanfiction on tumblr but I am quite curious. Thank u

*waves*Hey there - thanks so much for this ask, it’s something I relish being asked because there’s nothing I like more than talking about my favourite books ;)

First off I’m still super flattered you enjoy my writing so much! I have a long way to go before reaching the calibre of those I look up to, but with more practice, and wider reading, there’s always the chance, haha.

Blasphemy? Never!

So: books and authors I adore.

Right up at the top we have to have Hilary Mantel’s Wolf Hall. Mantel’s prose is absolutely exquisite, and she’s one of the most enjoyable authors around. Wolf Hall is the first in a fantastic trilogy covering the rise of Thomas Cromwell to power in Tudor England, but honestly, Mantel could write about de-greasing a kitchen sink and the prose would be so damn delightful I’d read it and weep. Here, we have a hefty tome that is, essentially, a history book, and the most stunning thing is that she’s reconstructed as much as possible of the events and scenery as was at the time of the Tudors. She really got inside Cromwell’s head to write this book, and he’s such an interesting character. We often hear of the Henry VIII story from either Henry’s point of view, or those of his wives (particularly Anne Boleyn). But this, now, this comes from the unexpected track. Born to commonfolk in a small London suburb, Cromwell was never meant to gain entry into the inner circles of the English Court, and yet he ended up influencing the political and religious direction of an entire nation. This is a fantastic character study of a shrewd, down-to-earth, ambitious man, who is at once a man of the people and yet so hard to fathom. Damn, just talking about it makes me want to read it again.

Filth, by Irvine Welsh, is a mainstay of mine. It’s written entirely in Scots dialect, so if you’ve not the background, you may need a translator. But Filth, like all Welsh’s novels, is amazing in its characterisation. It deals with an ordinary policeman in Edinburgh, Bruce Robertson, who, we slowly come to realise over the course of the novel, is completely morally corrupt. And it starts out with little things. Little, ‘oh, he’s probably being a bit of a jerk’ things. Little redeemable things. And since it’s all from his point of view, you’re along with him for the ride. Having a villain as the main character, first-person, and having the rabbit hole be such a subtle slip, does interesting things to your brain, to the point where, as a reader, you almost start waving away some of his actions, and part of it’s due to the sort of language Welsh employs. I love this fact, because you see how easy it is for people who do terrible things to get away with it. To make you want to give them the benefit of the doubt. Just in case they can be redeemed. There is also a hefty dose of psychological horror and existentialism, with a side order of magical realism as the tapeworm that lives in Bruce Robertson’s gut starts talking to him. The further he gets down the rabbit hole, the worse his mental health becomes. And, of course, this is Irvine Welsh we’re talking about, and I don’t think there’s even enough tags on AO3 to warn you of all the horrors this book contains within.

The Road, by Cormac McCarthy, has been one of the biggest influences on my writing style. McCarthy has an incredibly unique style. It’s bare-bones writing - he need not spell out anything for the reader, and this goes to the point where he doesn’t even use speech marks to delineate conversation. The structure of the writing alone is so flawless that you don’t even need it. It’s an exercise in creating a stark, vivid post-apocalyptic world with the bare minimum of ingredients. Word choice, sentence structure, emotion. His style really isn’t for everyone, but it is so clever and utterly delicious. I read the entire thing on the verge of tears, I was so worried for the kid in the story.

Amrita, by Banana Yoshimoto, is actually not Yoshimoto’s best work in terms of style (her short story collections Sleep and Kitchen are better), but it’s such a work of art that it stands as my favourite of hers. It’s about a young woman who wakes up after being in a coma, having lost certain parts of her memory. There’s a sister who died, a younger brother with problems of the parapsychological variety, and a healthy dose of magical realism. It’s all washed over with this serene sense of nostalgia and anticipation, and on every page I felt like I was on the brink of an entirely other world, that I could just look at the world slightly differently, and it would shift.

Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World, by Haruki Murakami, is an experimental masterpiece. I love the fact that I basically read the entire thing and it was so well-written I didn’t even question the fact that nobody in the novel has names. That’s right, nobody’s name is mentioned even once. And there’s at least a dozen characters. This is an outstanding book that influenced anime creator Yoshitoshi ABe (creator of Serial Experiments Lain, and Haibane Renmei), and it’s utterly fantastical and out there and thought-provoking, which is not what one might necessarily think for a novel that opens with a man musing at great length about what sort of sofa is best to sit upon.

Cloud Atlas, by David Mitchell (no, not the comedian, the other one), is also experimental in nature, and is sublime in the way it packages up its stories. Mitchell has an immense amount of talent; there are multiple plotlines that spans centuries and he is somehow able to write convincingly well in each genre style, from nineteenth-century colonial memoirs to ‘70′s crime drama to futuristic post-apocalyptic fiction. I read a lot of ship logs from century-old expeditions, and the segment The Pacific Journal of Adam Ewing is absolutely spot-on. There’s real beauty in this book, and please, for the love of god, read the book rather than watch the film, because beautiful as the film is, it does not come close to capturing that sense of wonder that the book does.

Dune, by Frank Herbert, has to be up here because not only is Dune a fantastic example of eco-fiction, but Herbert breaks the cardinal rule of not having more than one point of view in a paragraph and somehow I still love him. Conventionally, I prefer sticking to a single point of view in an entire scene, because otherwise the narrative is messy, and not in a fun way, more in a kind of sticks-to-the-roof-of-your-mouth-like-mashed-potato kind of way. Bleh. However, Herbert routinely switches perspective in the same scene, sometimes during the same paragraph, and occasionally during the same sentence. He’s pretty much the only writer I can stand who does this (barring Stephen King on the odd occasion) and it’s mainly because one of the principal themes in Dune is the use of Bene Gesserit magic, which is a glorified way of saying ‘using psychological warfare on others’. Words are a weapon, and it’s imperative to the plot of the story that the reader sees the effect of these words on the characters’ mental states. So yeah, it’s meant to be a sci-fi eco-warrior novel, but it ends up immensely psychological. And that is a very worthwhile read.

I think I’ve covered the main ones that tend to hover up near the top of my mind. Again, thank you so much for this ask, it was great fun to answer.

[iknaq]

Keeping It In The Family - (Part 13)

(Okay, I’m thinking probably just one more and this one will be wrapped up BUT I had so much fun that I am thinking I may start a new series to finish telling the stories of GiGi and Peggy and the twins and Peter. That will go up on AO3 when I get to it.)

@freudensteins-monster

MASTER POST LIST

'Okay, seriously dude. I can't decide if that's super scary or kinda hot.' Bucky smirked and pressed a little closer, looking over her shoulder as she mumbled about it being both, making him chuckle. He'd swung by the lab after a mission and he was still in his TAC gear, curious about the photoset Darcy was working on that Petey had taken of Tony and Steve visiting the local children's hospital. Pepper had agreed that Darcy could start some social media accounts for Avengers PR as long as she made sure there was all the proper release paperwork for people and it had to make it past JARVIS - who was uploaded with parameters set by Pepper and Maria (no sensitive content, no location tags unless otherwise approved, etc, etc - it was enough to make his head spin). 'So, doll...we haven't had a chance to reschedule that date.' 'No, we have not. What were you thinking? And have you gone to see Peggy yet? And you know, I never asked, is this like weird between you and Steve? I mean me going on dates with both of you?' 'No, I'll try to do that after I shower. I was thinking maybe a movie and we could order something, your pick. And we never really talked about it...huh, we both mentioned interest and I always just figured you'd let us know, ya know, ladies choice...' 'Oh geez, would you talk to him and make sure it's all good because if you leave it up to me then you're both gonna be stuck with me forever because I'm greedy like that and you're pretty.' Jane snorted and looked up from papers she was reading on the other side of the table, prompting Darcy to crumple a piece of paper and throw it at her friend. Jane just brushed it away, pointing a folder at Darcy. 'Don't you need to be heading upstairs to meet with the kiddo's tutor?' 'Awww crap, okay and I know what you're trying to do. J, Jane is not allowed to turn on the quantum-thingamajig without Bruce, okay? At least he pretends to follow the safety procedures.' 'Yes, Ms Lewis. I shall make sure the quantum field augmenter is not turned on without Doctor Banner or the proper safety protocols.' 'Damn it, Darcy! This is my project and I don't need a babysitter.' 'Yes, yes, you do. You evaporated one of the bots and made DUM-E have a robot panic attack. Imagine if that had been your fleshy squishy body. Now figure out how to stabilize it and MAYBE we'll talk about you turning it on. I'll be back after I make sure this tutor isn't some kinda psycho, shit, I haven't even had a chance to read their files. J, can you transfer that to my tablet? Let's go, Buckster, you need to get showered.' He followed after Darcy as she muttered at her tablet, flicking through the files rapidly. The corner of his mouth sneaking up a bit, she was just so animated all the time and had unwittingly become the wrangler of the teenagers, as well as the scientists now. With Pepper busy running the Stark empire and much of the Avenger's business, May finding a job helping Pepper with the charitable organizations and the rest of them often on missions, that left Darcy to look after the three teens. And considering she wasn't that much older than all of them, she took the role in stride, Wanda and Pietro having especially latched on to Darcy. Darcy had moved into the apartment across the hall from Jane, staying with the twins for the time being with May and Peter taking the apartment across from Barton. Both he and Steve (and everyone really) had been trying to spend some time with all of the teens, getting to know them and trying to get over the awkwardness of interacting with Peter. How the hell are you supposed to act when you find out you have a kid via crazy Hydra experimentation? He wasn't sure what had gone down with Nat and Peter but they'd spoken and Nat had come out looking shaken but things returned to almost normal between the two, with Nat taking on trying to teach the twins some fighting, as well. Since they were still trying to learn the extent of all their powers, Pepper was still worried about sending them to school so everyone eventually agreed that a tutor was the best route, May and Peter's sudden move to the tower being attributed to her new job. But, that also meant having to run background and security checks and conducting interviews which had all fallen in Darcy's lap. She was still muttering at her tablet when they reached his floor, pressing a kiss to her temple before heading to the apartment and cleaning up. He snuck into the garage, taking Stevie's bike and heading off to see what Peg wanted to talk with him about. He was about to knock on the door when he heard the laughter coming from inside, hesitating a moment before tapping on the door and wandering in at the beckoning. Eyes wide as he entered and saw Lorraine sitting beside Peg. He never really got to know Lorraine besides seeing her around the base but Peg...well, she was something else. The moment he met her, he understood why Stevie had fallen head over heels. 'James! Oh, James...look at you, still as devilishly handsome as ever.' 'Good god, Peggy...look at that jaw, still as sexy as it was all those years ago.' Bucky felt all warm around the collar, shifting from side to side a bit as he approached the bed and pressed a kiss on Peggy's cheek before offering one to Lorraine, as well. 'Ladies, you look as lovely as ever.' 'Would you look at that, even Hydra couldn't strip the charming off this man. Now, James, do you know why I asked you to come?' 'Mmmm...not really Pegs, I wanted to say hi but I get the feeling that you got a bit more to say than that...' 'Damn straight I do. Are you ever going to tell Steven that you love him and have always loved him? And don't try and deny it mister, I remember the looks you would give him.' 'I...uh uh...I...' 'I know it was a different time but I had thought about broaching the subject with Steven if it weren't for the fact that we were in the middle of the war. And then the train...he was heartbroken after that...I'm so sorry for what they did to you James but you're both still young and you should be happy.' 'Can you just imagine that much handsome in one relationship? You throw my girl in there and their children will be gorgeous.' 'Oh hush, Lolly. Don't overwhelm the man but she is right, Lolly said you also had an eye on Darcy? So, what's stopping you?' Bucky blinked, looking back at the two women, feeling completely steamrolled by the little old ladies. 'Uh...I have a date with Darcy later and I mean...Stevie...he...we never. Aw, shit. He doesn't feel that way. He was in love with you Peg and now he's got it bad for Darcy.' 'Oh, my darling boy...Steve loves you as much as you love him, he just hasn't acknowledged it yet. Now, we have tea shortly and you should go woo our lovely girl but please James...Bucky...just ask and see? I do love Steve and I want him happy and you and Darcy, as well.' 'And you, young man, I'll tell you the same thing I told Steven. I have a gun that Peggy taught me how to use, you treat my great-granddaughter right, are we clear?' 'Yes, ma'am.' He left the building in a daze and by the time he got back to the tower he was just grinning. He had a date tonight but had a quick stop to make first. Wandering into the apartment he shared with Stevie, glad to find the man in the living room. He stopped, looking over Steve's shoulder almost the same way he had with Darcy just a few hours ago. 'Hey, man...is it cool if I go on a date with Darcy? She was worried about things being weird with us.' 'Why would they be weird? I figured it was ladies choice. Where have you been?' Bucky had to stifle a laugh since that was exactly the same thing he had said. 'Went to visit Pegs...Lorraine was there with her. How can two little women in their 90's make me feel so bloody terrified?' 'I know...but Peggy was always that way, I think she rubbed off on Lorraine, sounds like they had an interesting friendship after it all.' 'I'd like to hear more about it sometime...okay, I'm gonna go take Darcy to a movie and get some grub. Hey, Stevie? Pegs said something to me and it got me wondering...' She had to have said something to Steve, as well, judging by the not so surprised look on his face. 'Oh, yeah?' Ah, why the hell not? Bucky leant over the couch and gave him a nice big smack on the lips. 'How about tomorrow I take you out?' Steve was still sitting there with a stunned look on his face when he left the apartment to go see Darcy.

[t-baba]

The Top 20 One Page Websites from 2016

Below are my Top 20 picks out of the 485 One Pagers I reviewed last year. There is no ranking order but each is given a reason why I think it was worthy of a Top 50 placement.

Deciding factors were of course the quality of the One Page website but a few are included due to the huge amount of social sharing they received.

Hope you get your inspiration topped up to create something beautiful in 2017:)

Cheers, Rob

Quick shout out to Bluehost – who is our official Round Up sponsor.

Bluehost is the most affordable hosting option to host your One Page websites. They have an incredible $2.95/month deal exclusive for One Page Readers where you can host your website with 50GB diskspace and unlimited bandwidth. They also throw in a free domain!

A Bear’s-Eye View of Yellowstone (Long-Form Journalism)

Incredible long scrolling One Pager that takes us on a journey with 4 bears as they navigate the heart of Yellowstone, as seen from the bears’ own point of view. Yes, there is a footer site navigation that we don’t normally allow (as this makes the website technically multiple-page). But what an excellent reference to a Long-form Journalism website – a big trend in digital publications that we’re seeing much more of. Make sure you read the case-study by Hello Monday that dives deep in the build. Stellar work by them.

Launch Website Full Review

Keep Portland Weird (Experimental)

Wonderfully fun One Pager having a laugh at the items we’ll need to “keep Portland weird” if there ever was an earthquake. One of those sites debatable if it’s a true One Pager but the transitions are just gorgeous and absolutely seamless. Excellent work by the Oblio team.

Launch Website Full Review

Seedlip (Product)

Absolute jaw-dropping design in this One Pager promoting ‘Seedlip’ – the world’s first non-alcoholic spirits. The Single Page website is built into the Shopify framework with a slick off-canvas shopping cart integration. There is so much to love in this site; the whitespace, the stunning product shots (not to mention that branding), the cocktail recipe slider with downloadable PDF and this complementary typography blend of ‘Brown’ and ‘Baskersville’ fonts. Possibly the most gorgeously designed One Pager we’ve featured this year. Top work this by Rotate° from London!

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Navigating Responsibly (Case Study, Informational)

Incredible parallax scrolling One Pager providing information on what Danish Shipowners are doing to help with environmental and climate challenges. So much to love in this Single Page site but highlights are definitely that mobile navigation load animation, the stunning big typography and that seriously gorgeous load transition of the off-canvas case studies. Top work this by Danish digital agency, Spring/Summer.

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Resn (Portfolio)

Phenomenal One Page website for New Zealand based digital agency, Resn. The Single Page website starts with 6 unique sections where you hold your cursor down to load the interactive animations. Each incredibly impressive. Clicking top-right reveals the menu where you navigation swiftly to their work. The transitions are gorgeous and overall execution just top drawer.

Launch Website Full Review

Rogie (Portfolio)

Dazzling One Page portfolio literally bursting with color for designer/dev, Rogie. The Single Page website has so much flavor including an intro confetti animation, a colorful background wavy gradient (that moves!) and a beautifully slick portfolio arrangement that slides projects into a central device. Final little shout-out to this awesome use of an .ie domain:)

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Cybeer Bar

Oh man, just when you thought you’d seen it all. Digital agency Leavingstone have created this fun interactive One Pager that digitally pours a beer – using your phone. Yup, you have to see it to believe it. If you’re reading this on your mobile, here is a video demo. Looking forward to the fun future when we’ll be interacting more with websites like this.

Launch Website Full Review

Structure (Event)

Beautiful minimal design in this unique One Pager for an upcoming exhibition in Milan called ‘Structure’. Love big typography (and font choice) and what a fun feature where you can drag around most the content within the page.

Launch Website Full Review

24 Lever Street (Accommodation)

What a gorgeous colorful One Pager filled with fun character animations representing ’24 Lever Street’. The long scrolling Single Page website features a tall illustrated building showcasing which tenants occupy each floor of ’24 Lever Street’ along with the vacancies. Lovely collaborative work this by Nine Sixty & True North digital agencies from UK.

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56 (Portfolio)

Great vibe portrayed in this long scrolling One Page portfolio for Toronto-based design studio, 56. Couple really nice touches in this site; the initial load transitions with the 3D hover sensitive background pattern, the hand icon that changes direction as you scroll up and down, the whole site color scheme adaption to align with the current project you’re browsing, the funny tagline that randomly changes and the META title tag that keeps changing it’s algorithm but always equals to 56:)

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2016 Make Me Pulse (Announcement, Experimental)

Incredible interactive One Pager by digital agency, Make Me Pulse, wishing you a successful 2016. The effects are mind blowing and an excellent reference to how far we’ve gone since Flash died.

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Plane—Site (Portfolio)

Gorgeous 3D shape animations and unique transitions in this colorful One Pager for Berlin based digital agency, Plane—Site. The Single Page website features lots of info but still feels uncluttered through it’s minimal design approach. Excellent work this by Ben Roth and Owen Hoskins.

Launch Website Full Review

Sonikpass (Application, Landing Page, Launching Soon)

Slick One Pager with gorgeous transitions promoting ‘Sonikpass’ – a new “passwordless” security solution. This landing page actually links out to a TypeForm that gathers info about your business before you begin.

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100 Years of National Parks (Informational)

Centrally-divided layout in this excellent One Pager taking a look back at 100 years of the National Parks Service. Such a lovely touch with the SVG “contour” load animations within the big numbers. Also choosing the Geogrotesque font for an outdoor-themed website is a perfect example of adding x-factor. Great job Dallas and cheers for the build notes.

Launch Website Full Review

Skylark (Experimental, Portfolio)

Stunning One Pager for ‘Skylark’ – a series of concept homes designed for the ‘Blue Ridge Mountains’. There are lovely little touches throughout this Single Page website like the background contour load transition in the Residencies section. Also make sure you check out the Landscape image slider, gorgeous stuff.

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7 Tests for Gaucher Disease Management (Informational)

Gorgeously designed informational One Pager to educate patients and physicians about Gaucher Disease management best practices. Awesome addition providing a PDF checklist for users to download, as well as email sign up functionality for annual reminders. Respect.

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10×16 (Music Related, Experimental)

Exceptional One Page website for 10×16 – a fun collaborative project where you could follow as 19 designers countdown their top 10 albums of 2016, each with reimagined cover art. The transitions are beautiful and the minimalist artwork redesigns are just gorgeous. A lovely touch how the website background color changes to correlate with the current artwork you’re browsing.

Launch Website Full Review

Best Friends Forever (Portfolio)

Gorgeous big imagery in this parallax scrolling One Pager for Melbourne-based design studio, Best Friends Forever. The awesome SVG illustrations and animations (by Sean Morris) bring so much character to the portfolio. Also a great references to a quality team section – especially the additional founder section further down that animates. We forget how important building trust is for when potential clients browse our portfolios.

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The Wedding of Jessica and Brennan (Wedding)

Beautiful long scrolling One Pager announcing the wedding of Jessica and Brennan – both designers of course. The Single Page website features a parallax scrolling rose-overlay that’s perfectly subtle with no parallax on text. There is also good whitespace, lovely typography and last little shoutout to that navigation “roll out” animation, awesome stuff.

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THIS (Portfolio)

Lovely parallax scrolling with big beautiful typography in this One Pager for German digital agency, THIS. The Single Page website intro features an impressive hover-sensitive parallax effect with the array of devices. Other features include a unique fixed right navigation, a very slick client logo (vertical) scroller and ends with a big footer with subtle map background and a looping video of the office space. (We’ve also just added the footer to our Big Footer Web Design references.)

Launch Website Full Review

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by Rob Hope via One Page Love http://ift.tt/2kI8sXL