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hurglewurm · 4 years ago

Note

C- Can I read the coraline essay 😳?

ok but it’s Long so i’m putting most of it under a cut

lmao ahem.

Promises of the Womb

Neil Gaiman’s Coraline presents a horror that takes the form of what is often the most comforting: a mother, and a home. The novel’s protagonist, the eponymous Coraline, is nearing the cusp of adolescence, and therefore slowly exiting the dependence that children have on their parents. As she struggles with the new distance between her and her parents, she also faces the Other Mother and the Other World, which invite her to re-enter her childhood state of dependence on her mother (only now her Other Mother)—to accept and become part of the space that the Other Mother has created, and thereby be reintegrated into the metaphorical womb. Because Coraline is of a liminal age, neither a helpless child nor yet an adolescent, reintegration into the metaphorical womb is both revolting and somehow appealing; revolting in how it would disintegrate Coraline’s identity and selfhood, and yet appealing in its promise of never again facing the stress of growing more independent and separate from her mother.

The novel opens with Coraline in her original world, where she, as a child, feels silenced by adults, who do not make efforts to recognize her identity. This is especially seen in the mispronunciation of her name, which David Rudd identifies as a factor of Coraline’s “frustration of feeling neglected” by the adults around her (Rudd 164). Coraline often ineffectually protests: “It’s Coraline. Not Caroline. Coraline [….] I asked you not to call me Caroline. It’s Coraline” (Gaiman 2), only for her neighbours to continue calling her “Caroline”. Chloé Germaine Buckley argues further that the collective inability of her neighbours to say her name correctly signals that “ ‘Coraline,’ the ‘child,’ is a particularly tricky, unstable construct” (Buckley 71), and that she exists to them as “a figure who always emanates from and belongs to the adult imagination” (71), meaning they assume to know how she feels and what her name is based on their own expectations as adults speaking to a child. Coraline’s struggle being tied to her age is made explicit in her conversation with the police officer over the phone, and she “trie[s] extra hard to sound like an adult might sound, to make him take her seriously” (Gaiman 52); Coraline is aware of her age and how it makes people perceive her, and this frustrates her all the more, as she cannot do anything about it.

In the Other World, however, this struggle is conspicuously absent, as Other Mr. Bobo and Other Misses Spink and Forcible speak Coraline’s name correctly before she even gives it to them; Other Mr. Bobo says, “Hello Coraline” when he sees her (30), and Miss Spink invites her on stage and says, “Now, Coraline, […] what’s your name?” (40). Furthermore, the Other World paints itself as appealing to Coraline by how much attention she gets from the adults there, particularly the Other Mother; despite Coraline’s wanting not to be treated as a child by the police officer, the Other World functions to soothe and contest the “fear that the increasing independence her real parents demand of her amounts to rejection and abandonment” (Gooding 396), as Richard Gooding puts it. While the real world simultaneously dismisses her for her youth and demands independence of her for her being suitably old enough to warrant it, the Other World provides an alternative: Coraline is invited to embrace her youth, to reside in a child’s bedroom with walls painted “in an off-putting shade of green and a peculiar shade of pink” (Gaiman 28), to play with “[a] whole toy box filled with wonderful toys” (28), and to wear “dressing-up clothes” and costumes that “she would love to have hanging in her own wardrobe at home” (67). In short, Coraline is invited to integrate into the space the Other Mother has created for her, free of the pressures of growing up, and to become her daughter: to take her place permanently in the Other Mother’s womb.

Viewing the Other World as womb-like in more than a strictly metaphorical sense requires a certain putting aside of the novel’s descriptive language taken from Coraline’s perspective, which largely describes the Other characters as bug-like as they start to devolve: Miss Spink and Miss Forcible’s bodies are mashed together inside of a sac like a “spider’s egg case” (99), “stuck to the back wall like a slug” (98); the Other Father is “pale and swollen like a grub with thin, sticklike arms and feet” (108); Mr. Bobo is likened to an “enormous dead insect” (116); and the Other Mother is described as distinctly spider-like, with skin “the colour of a spider’s belly” (126), a predator to all the others. Rudd plays on the spider imagery in his article, describing Coraline as being in danger of becoming “trapped in the ‘other mother’s’ web, and ultimately absorbed” (Rudd 160). However, the bug-like descriptors are relegated to similes, meant to evoke emotions in the reader but not necessarily a strict likeness to bugs—in fact, the Other Mother’s eating of bugs (crunching) is not at all reminiscent of how a spider would trap its prey and liquefy it before consumption, and Buckley presents the Other Mother as having rather “predatory bird-like characteristics” (Buckley 66).

It is in looking at the Other characters in the novel that the fetal elements become more apparent, painting the space where they reside as a womb. Gooding quotes Karen Coats in describing “the degenerate forms of Miss Spink and Miss Forcible” which now “resemble fetuses, suggesting an ‘infantile state of undifferentiation’ ” (Gooding 399), as they have “melted and melded together into one ghastly thing” (Gaiman 100). The Other Father, grublike though he may seem, is certainly no bug: his body is malleable like “pale clay” (109), and his most frightening aspect seems to be his mouth, which “open[s] in the mouthless face, strands of pale stuff sticking to the lips” (108), recalling a notion of Kristevian abject. Julia Kristeva defines the abject as “what disturbs identity, system, order. What does not respect borders, positions, rules” (Kristeva 4): the Other Father’s transgressive mouth, creating an opening in his body where there was none, is an example of this. The unidentified “strands of pale stuff sticking to the lips” further the feeling of abjection, as this substance is never properly identified—it could be parts of his amorphous clay-like flesh, or, if we explore the womb-like space and the process of reproduction, it could be breastmilk or semen.

The Other World evokes abjection, as it does not respect the boundaries between bodies, as seen with Misses Forcible and Spink, with Mr. Bobo when his body becomes rats, and with the Other Father, whose skin is “tacky, like warm bread dough” (Gaiman 109), much unlike a body’s boundary is expected to be. This abject feeling is aggravated by likening the Other World to a womb, as it disturbs Coraline’s identity both as a growing child (and not a fetus) and as having come from another’s womb. However, the Other World does seem to have some kind of order to it, following Gooding’s observation of the real world of the novel (which the Other World mirrors) as rather concerned with “things being under other things” (Gooding 393). If one views the Other World as a body, then the old man upstairs is the eyes, being made up of rats, which the Other Mother “uses […] as her eyes and hands” (Gaiman 73); beneath that live Misses Spink and Forcible and the Other Mother, residing in the womb-space—Spink and Forcible especially, existing in their fetus-like state in a sac of “sticky, clinging whiteness” (100), once again evoking the abject through suspicious possibly-bodily substances; and beneath that in the cellar resides the Other Father, the only male figure in the Other World (aside from Mr. Bobo, who is made of rats, and the cat), taking the place of the genitals, as the hidden secret below.

Furthering the notion of abjection and fluid boundaries, the idea of integration is at the core of the Other Mother’s desire for Coraline, as the cat explains: “ ‘She wants something to love, I think,’ said the cat. ‘Something that isn’t her. She might want something to eat as well. It’s hard to tell with creatures like that’ ” (Gaiman 63). For the Other Mother, to love and to consume are synonymous, as ultimately she would break down the boundaries between her body and Coraline’s and absorb her. It is impossible to say whether the Other Mother has a true stomach or a true womb, but I would argue that they would function in the same way: to hold something other than herself within her own body, and to integrate it until there is nothing remaining of its original selfhood. The result of such a process is seen in the ghost children trapped in the mirror, who warn Coraline: “She [the Other Mother] kept us, and she fed on us, until now we’ve nothing left of ourselves, only snakeskins and spider husks” (83). The ghosts are “faraway and lost” (81), unable to remember their names or even what gender they were in life, and Gooding asserts that the novel hinges on Coraline not becoming one of the ghosts by resisting integration with the Other Mother—on a more psychoanalytic level, on her “capacity to surmount an infantile desire for permanent (re)union with the mother” and resist the “regressive desire to disintegrate her subjectivity” (Gooding 397, Buckley 74). Coraline’s ultimate choice to resist integration and maintain her selfhood and identity is integral to her escape, as only she can save herself from the Other Mother: as Rudd puts it, “in order for a person to take up their place in the world, distinct from the mother figure who once provided all and everything, the maternal must be set apart” (Rudd 166).

In the end, completing the likeness to a body and a womb, Coraline’s escape from the Other World requires traversing the passage between the two worlds, which is “described […] in terms of a birth canal” (166): the wall is “warm and yielding” when Coraline touches it (Gaiman 133), and moments later is “hot and wet, as if she had put her hand in somebody’s mouth” (133). By escaping the womb through the birth canal, Coraline essentially performs her own birth, the ultimate and inevitable separation from one’s mother. Back in the real world, Coraline must still rid herself of the Other Mother’s disembodied hand, and she does so by enacting a performance, “reverting to a younger self, to one that still plays with dolls [….] affect[ing] an innocence she no longer possesses” (Rudd 167), playing at the youth that the Other World invited her to retain forever. Coraline then buries the hand in a hole; according to Freudian theory, the fear/desire of being buried alive evokes the memory of being in the womb (Gooding 403)—just as the Other Mother buried and re-buried her own mother (Gaiman 91), Coraline traps her Other Mother “down into the darkness of the well” (157), in an inescapable womb.

Coraline explores the horror of growing older and more independent from one’s parents, and frames this horror as the threat of losing one’s subjectivity by being reintegrated into the womb. The Other World presents itself as a space where Coraline can release her anxieties of being neglected by the adults around her by accepting her place in the womb, where she never has to grow up or be separate from her mother again—and yet, as a womb, the Other World is also where unfinished, fetal creatures reside, evoking feelings of abjection in both the reader and Coraline as her identity and selfhood are threatened, and she ultimately defeats the Other Mother by performing the very youth and innocence she no longer has and trapping the hand in another womb.

Works Cited

Buckley, Chloé Germaine. “Psychoanalysis, ‘Gothic’ Children’s Literature, and the Canonization of Coraline.” Children’s Literature Association Quarterly, vol. 40, no. 1, John Hopkins University Press, 2015, pp. 58-79.

Gaiman, Neil. Coraline. Harper Collins, 2008.

Gooding, Richard. “ ‘Something Very Old and Very Slow’: Coraline, Uncanniness, and Narrative Form.” Children’s Literature Association Quarterly, vol. 33, no. 4, John Hopkins University Press, 2008, pp. 390-407.

Kristeva, Julia. “Approaching Abjection.” Powers of Horror, translated by Leon S. Roudiez, Columbia University Press, 1982, pp. 1-27.

Rudd, David. “An Eye for an I: Neil Gaiman’s Coraline and Questions of Identity.” Children’s Literature in Education, vol. 39, no. 3, Springer, 2008, pp. 159-168.

#did i go too hard for this essay? i did actually #this essay was me being Extra because i. had to #worked out for me so who cares #asks #knicknack #pls no one plagiarize my essay lmao that would be lazy and dumb #but if u want to write abt this absolutely go into the works cited #buckley mostly quotes from gooding and rudd #but has a lot to say that i didn't include in my essay #kristeva's abject is like. it simply fucks. i can't say more #it makes me feel insane

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twstedoven · 4 years ago

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Monday Melancholy Deuce x Reader.

Edited

word count: 942

Author’s note;

This one-shot based off Honey works Monday Melancholy cause I'm a sucker for Amatsuki voice. That boy vocal is a punch in the gut, especially when he hit those high notes. I apologize for taking a while. It was hard thinking of a character who would suit the song until I thought of Deuce. I also apologize if there wasn't much interaction between the reader and Deuce. I only based it off the first few verses of the song, so I recommend listening to the song before reading. Because let's be honest, we all simping over a love that will never exist. *cough* all the twisted boys *cough*. Anyway, constructive criticism is helpful.

Among the audience, buzzing with excitement, sat a cobalt-haired adolescent boy gripping tightly on his denim's rough fabric. Bright highlighted pink and green shifts with the air, creating a light source, as the screams of many chanted the lyrics of a well-known song. There she was centered in the middle, dancing in exhilaration. Her slender finger pointed towards his direction, provoking her fans even more. That small interaction initiated a reddened color to spread on his cheeks as he swiftly diverts his attention to the metal flooring. How did this even happen? Ace's invitation to a concert for an artist he wasn't familiar with. It was all fine then until she made her presence. The God's gifted him a genuine angel, as her voice seize his attention like the sirens luring in the hapless sailors trapped in the ethereal waves. Simultaneously, the tight fluffy dress hugged her figure while moving to the beat of her song. His eyes entrap with (e/c) ones. Deuce maintained his make-belief world with just the two of them, not overzealous supporters or the wide gap between them.

Only him and (Y/N)

"I've got a spare ticket to sweet apple. Wanna come?"

Ace leaned his chest against the sturdy wooden chair. His eyes flutter at his classmates individually, each engrossed with their own conversations. Last period recently concluded as Professor Divus wrapped up his remaining magic class with the first years. The blue-haired teenager silently sat in his seat, writing down notes from the lecture. Fed up with the neglect, Ace slammed his palm on the hard wooden surface, with his eyebrow twitching in annoyance. "Oi! Are you even listening!?" he snarled. "I'm sorry were you saying something, Ace?" Deuce politely query the cherry red-head. Rolling his eyes, Ace shoved a small card into his direction. "One of my favorite artists is performing in Twisted Wonderland, and I do happen to have a spare ticket." "And because I'm such a good friend, I'm honoring you to come and watch." He smirked at his self proclaim statement, viewing Deuce as a simpleton. Deuce read the ticket's context, a shiny paper with bold letters providing the seat number and date.

"Sweet Apple?"

"Pretty awesome for a stage name, right?"

"I guess, but who is Sweet Apple?"

Stunned, Ace gawk at him, waiting for Deuce to say it was all a joke. However, his curious expression did not waver. "Your kidding right, you seriously don't know who is Sweet Apple?" He shook his head, sighing. "Am I supposed to know her--"

"Of you are!" Ace abruptly stood up from his chair, quickly reaching for his phone situated on his desk. "She's like that singer who sang honey love."

"I don't know that song."

Soon a soft feminine voice overtook their discussion. "This song, you don't know? It was like playing everywhere right now." Deuce stared at his friend, as Ace was mindless scrolling on his device, attempting to trigger a familiarity within his friend's mind. "Here, this is Sweet Apple" He shoved it in front of his view. A photo of a petite girl posing at the camera. Her fingers formed a heart shape; at the same time, she winked. "Look, just come to the stadium this Saturday." Ace begrudgingly stood up; his bones clicked into place from accommodating one position too long. Deuce was about to protest, "but what about my-"

"look, just show up, and I'll buy you lunch on Monday." The mischievous boy waved his hand lazily. Deuce glance at the ticket laying untouched, he sighed, finally caving in his friend demand.

Now he was in this position, although Deuce stuck between Ace and another sweaty fan. He couldn't help but enthralled by the singer. Deuce posed stiff as a stick, with his back slightly hunched forward and his clammy palms rested upon his knees. Ace caught his awkward posture and handed him a green light stick. "Oi, just swinging it back and forth."

"You look lame doing nothing." Deuce stared at the glowing rod, slowly he raised it, waving in one motion. Gradually he joined the off singing fans shouting the lyrics of her songs. Although he mumbles most parts, due to unfamiliarity, he had fun. He'll admit he was about to leave and abandon Ace cause he was bored as hell. Nothing seemed to happen except the excited mutters begging for the (h/c) girl to appear on stage. The seating was also awful, as they were placed on the last row, barely seeing anything but a figure. However, there was a giant screen to make up for that. Overall the start of the concert was uneventful until she finally showed her appearance. She was glistening in sweat, with determination like she was in a battle undefeated. As their eyes made contact, he felt butterflies.

Ba-dump

The concert ended not long ago; the pair exited the stadium exhausted from all the screaming. Stars painted the sky. Meanwhile, the crickets replaced the bird's melody. Ace stretched his arm in relief, "man; I'm beat." "Don't you agree that was the best concert ever? You don't need to thank me, by the way." Deuce still gazes at the plastic light, reminiscing the recent event. "You can keep that by the way; I have another back in the dorm." His train of thought was interrupted, watching Ace walking away from him. A blush adored his face again, he won't admit it out loud, but he fell in love with a love that'll never be.

He grinned at that thought. Deuce began to sprint over to Ace.

Look's like he'll be attending the concert next week.

This Monday will be melancholy.

#deuce #twst x reader #deuce spade #twst deuce #twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #twst #twst ace #ace trappola #ace #x reader #Disney #honeyworks

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amarauder · 5 years ago

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Chapter Two - Percy Jackson x Reader

| percy’s journey to the top of the world

A/N; Thank you all so much for all the kind words! They mean so much! I was so surprised by the amount of response I got from the last chapter that I have actually finished chapter three already, which will be up tomorrow!

The Ferris wheel is always at the very front of their county fair since it's usually either the first thing people ride or the last thing they do before they leave. Percy sees a line stretching out for a while, but he doesn't mind waiting in the queue so long as he gets his turn.

When it finally gets to them, they section off into groups of various numbers, Percy graciously getting shoved into a cart with Luke and Thalia and Nico rather than a stranger he'd have to make small talk with. Nico lets Percy sit on the right side of the carriage because he's a great friend, and Percy leans his head over the side with excitement.

"You're such a kid," Luke says, kicking Percy's shin.

"No, I'm not," Percy says, undermining his own reply with the way he sticks out his tongue petulantly. "I just like how everything gets smaller. It's relaxing."

"And yet, you won't even touch the Double Shot."

"I like everything getting smaller at a...slower rate," Percy decides, thinking of how quickly the Double Shot shoots up and down. "With that ride, you're too busy fearing your death to appreciate the view."

"A valid point," Thalia comments. "I think I screamed the whole time."

"You did," Luke tells her drily. "My ears are still ringing."

Percy watches them for a second, happy that his best friend is happy. If anyone deserves a sweet girl, it's Luke. Thalia's just the kind of stability Luke needs most days, and Percy doesn't think there's anyone who fits with Luke as well as she does. It's easy to get along with him, sure, but he's not the easiest person to mesh with.

The lights aren't as dizzying from a distance; they're less in his face and more pleasing to the eye. Percy's having one of those moments where he's thinking about everything and simultaneously nothing at all, where his mind is rushing around something but not giving him long enough to process it. He can see all the people milling around, headcount dwindling at it draws closer to closing time—can see people running and some moving to take a seat, can see small kids holding onto their parent's hand, can see groups just like them walking around with their hands in their pockets since they were too cool to bundle up appropriately for the weather. Percy loves people-watching. He wonders if there are any job openings for professional people-watchers.

"He's doing it," Luke stage-whispers to Thalia, eyeing Percy nervously.

Percy scowls. "What am I doing?"

"Getting your philosophical look," Nico replies. "You always do on this stupid ride."

"One day, you too will see the magic of the Ferris wheel," Percy says, but to be honest, he thinks one has to have a taste for the ride. Maybe they like the scary ones, but he's more than content to go less than ten miles per hour in a tame circle, no more than 60 feet from the ground.

"You're stupid," Nico grumbles, clearly a bit cranky. Percy knows he doesn't mean it, so he opts for throwing an arm around the kid's shoulder just to annoy him more.

"What's with the attitude? Is it past your bedtime?" Luke teases, crossing his arms and poking out his bottom lip to copy Nico's sullen demeanor.

Nico has murder in his eyes. Percy goes for casual when he pulls his arm back into his own personal space.

By the time they're forced to step out of their carriage, the night's cooled even more, being about twenty minutes until 1 AM. Percy has a feeling he won't get to sleep until at least 3 in the morning, and his thoughts are confirmed when Luke announces that he needs an icee from the nearest convenience store. Most everyone agrees that they could use a drink, too.

There's a lot of things Percy hates about being a teenager—being ridiculed, the obligation of high school, and general teenage angst just to name a few—but the feeling of staying out late with good friends isn't one of them. Percy has little, if any, experience of being a teenager like they show it in the movies, but late nights like these give him something to pen down in his memories as adolescent bliss.

They pile into their respective cars, most of them promising to meet up at the gas station; Hazel, Annabeth, and Nico decide to head home, saying that their parents are waiting for them, but they all vow to hang out again soon. Percy can't help but think it's nice to have more friends—more members in his small crowd of people he loves being around. At least he'll have people beyond Luke to reminisce with at their high school reunions.

He gets home at half-past two. His mom left him a note directing him to his dinner plate in the microwave, tacking on her customary 'love you, hope you had fun!' Percy stares at it for a while before he tucks it into his pocket, for some reason feeling compelled to keep the insignificant note, and warms up his lasagna.

There are few things more satisfying than lasagna at 3 AM, Percy learns. One of those things is falling asleep directly after.

| tags; @ohmygoditsanthonyedwardstark @childllama

| masterlist

#percy jackson x reader #percy x reader #percy jackson #pjo #anmarauder writings #percy's journey to the top of the world

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fandumbstuff · 6 years ago

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Favourite Films from 2018

1. Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse

Directed by Bob Persichetti, Peter Ramsey, and Rodney Rothman

If this movie had absolutely no story, it would still be worth the price of admission. It's an astounding achievement in animation that brings to life a moving piece of pop art. It does have a story, however, and a particularly affective one. Into the Spider-Verse is a deep dive into the mythology of Spider-Man, taking over 60 years of storytelling and condensing it into a few concentrated attributes. It then introduces us to the variety of characters who share these attributes, and convinces us to care about them. It rises above most superhero films and tells a story that seems simultaneously sensational and incredibly personal. It does not overwhelm us with spectacle, but rather takes the time to offer quiet moments of emotional resonance. And then wows us with the spectacle.

2. If Beale Street Could Talk

Directed by Barry Jenkins

Films should be able to make you feel something. And it is every directors goal to convey an emotion through their visual conception. Barry Jenkins does this better than most of his contemporaries. Much like Moonlight, Beale Street is a film that warms your soul with overwhelming intimacy and sentiment. The beauty in James Laxton’s cinematography- soft lighting in close-ups and graceful camera waltzes through long shots convey a sense of dreamlike wonder. There are darker moments in the film as well, and Jenkins allows us to feel ever moment of injustice, desperation and despair in them. If Beale Street Could Talk is not just a love story, but a story of the most resilient kind of love.

3. Sorry to Bother You

Directed by Boots Riley

In terms of sheer originality this is the best film of the year. In his directorial debut, Boots Riley tells us a science fiction story that is funny, dark and deeply thought-provoking, in a way that most of Black Mirror dreams it was. Lakeith Stanfield leads with a stellar performance, presenting a frazzled sort of energy that is enough to make you laugh and/or feel pretty unsettled. He’s accompanied by Tessa Thompson’s effortless charm, and Armie Hammer’s effortless dickishness. Add to that some particularly clever voice-over performances and its already a standout film. But it’s the attention to detail from the production design, the make-up, hair, costuming, and music, that make this an incredibly well rounded, wholly enjoyable affair.

4. Black Panther

Directed by Ryan Coogler

This is the Marvel Cinematic Universe’s watershed moment. The care and attention that was paid in simply assembling the best team possible to work on this film pays off incredibly. Ryan Coogler and his dream team created a singular creative vision to inspire and entertain fans new and old. Wakanda feels like a living, breathing world, far more impressive than most of its comic book portrayals. Shot and lit by Rachel Morrison, costumed by Ruth E. Carter’s impeccable hand, and pulsing to Ludwig Goransson’s iconic score. And then there are the performances. Fierce moments between Danai Gurira and Lupita Nyongo, poignant exchanges between Chadwick Boseman and John Kani. And impassioned moments between Michael B. Jordan and pretty much everyone. Killmonger is the MCU’s best villain yet, but you already know that. Jordan’s performance is one that simply needs to be appreciated over and over again, his passionate command of Coogler’s screenplay stirs your heart, and may damn well bring some tears to your eyes, as it never fails to do so for me.

5. Roma

Directed by Alfonso Cuaron

Alfonso Cuaron wrote, directed, shot, and cut this film himself, and you can certainly believe his passion for this project shines through in all of those aspects. Roma seems like an incredibly personal film, and it’s the mark of any great filmmaker to make your audience empathetic to a personal project. Cuaron’s story is one deeply rooted in Mexican history and culture, but the themes of infidelity, chauvinism and female independence are ones that we can and should engage with. Cuaron’s cinematography is incredibly beautiful in this film. Under his own hand rather than his best pal Emmanuel Lubezki, Cuaron’s signature long takes are moments of deep emotion, allowing us as an audience to simply sit back and soak in the gravity of a scene- its beauty, sadness, and joy.

6. BlacKkKlansmen

A Spike Lee Joint

The film is upsetting, as it absolutely should be. That being said, this is the first time in a while I’ve seen Spike Lee have fun with a project. Ron Stallworth’s story is an incredible one, but it’s not without its moments of absurd levity. John David Washington and Adam Driver have incredible chemistry together, and they play off of each other as humorously as most buddy copy films. BlacKkKlansmen is a true story though, and ultimately an incredibly important one. How does one man fight racism in its most violent form, and do so with impeccable courage. Stallworth is one of history’s true heroes, but Spike Lee makes sure that we understand why this story is still relevant today, and why it is our responsibility to fight injustice with the same courage that Stallworth did.

7. Eighth Grade

Directed by Bo Burnham

Its understandable that the most accurate depiction of social media on screen yet comes from someone with a prolific background in social media like Bo Burnham. This is just one detail out of many that he gets so right in his film. He chooses to tell the story of a lead character that would traditionally get no attention in the field of coming-of-age movies. Watching Kayla win an award for “most quiet student” sums up how real and relatable her character is. Elsie Fisher’s performance sells this, and winds up being one of the strongest of the year. With Eighth Grade, Burnham has shown how incredibly in touch he is, and it’s a quality sorely lacking in most standard Hollywood fare.

8. Isle of Dogs

Directed by Wes Anderson

Obviously charming, as with any Wes Anderson film. Obviously cute, as with anything involving dogs. Throughout his filmography, Anderson has always managed to find the charm in adolescence, whether having children as lead or supporting characters, or telling a story that is young at heart. In Isle of Dogs, his story touches on that same charm. A child’s love for his dog is the main plot point, and his journey is one that touches on our intrinsic reminiscence of childhood adventure. All of this is accompanied by Alexandre Desplat's delightfully memorable score, which is worth listening to all on its own.

9. The Favourite

Directed by Yorgos Lanthimos

In comparison to Yorgos Lanthimos' other popular film The Lobster, it’s clear he's established a distinct voice in absurd humour. The Favourite is just as absurd, but far more darker. There are moments that are outright hilarious, but they are accompanied by moments of tragic sadness. Watching Olivia Colman's Queen Anne transition from cheerful to melancholic is heartbreaking. Supported by strong performances from Rachel Weisz and Emma Stone, and accompanied by assuredly strong production design and cinematography, The Favourite rounds out as one of the years finest films.

10. The Death of Stalin

Directed by Armando Ianucci

Armando Ianucci has never told a darker story than this one. As with most of his work, The Death of Stalin is uproariously funny. His knack for showing the silliest sides of politicians is at its best here, and the political climate that he deals with is the perfect vehicle for it. We watch these characters scramble for power, and watch them commit horrible atrocities in the process. A lot of it is funny in the darkest of fashions. But by the time we get to the end, we understand just how disturbing the story has been and are left to contemplate how humanity can slip so far into horror, and hope we can learn from it.

Honorable Mentions

Shoplifters (Directed by Haruomi Hasuno), Paddington 2 (Directed by Paul King), Christopher Robin (Directed by Marc Foster), Halloween (Directed by David Gordon Green), Incredibles 2 (Directed by Brad Bird), Crazy Rich Asians (Directed by John M. Chu), Avengers: Infinity War (Directed by Anthony and Joe Russo), First Man (Directed by Damien Chazelle), A Quiet Place (Directed by John Krasinski) Tag (Directed by Jeff Tomsic)

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pivitor · 6 years ago

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My Top 10 Favorite Albums of 2018

When it comes to music, ideas of "good" or "bad" or "best" are purely subjective. Frankly, it's ridiculous to suggest that any one person, or even any one group, has the authority to decide what the best albums of the year are, even if they did have the capacity to listen to every single release. But I love these kind of lists anyway because, at their best, they provide people the chance to gush about the music they loved in a year, the albums that challenged them, brought them joy, and helped reshape their lives. I don't necessarily think music should be ranked and judged, but it absolutely should be explored, examined, and shared.

The following is exactly that. These are my ten favorite albums of 2018, the ten albums I spent the most time with, got the most out of, and loved more than anything else released this year (that I had a chance to listen to, at least). If you've heard some of these albums before, I hope I can help you find something new to appreciate, or at least remind you why you liked them in the first place; if you haven't, then I hope you find a new song, band, or album here to love.

Let's get to it:

10. MXPX -- MXPX: There were a few really strong albums competing for this final slot, but MXPX took it through sheer consistency. Every single song on this album is just an incredibly solid block of pop-punk, bolstered by some fun, yet often unexpectedly mature, lyrics. Mike Herrera and the rest of MXPX look backwards and forward simultaneously, reminiscing about their childhood and long history as a band, but also sharing the lessons they've learned along the way; on album stand-out "Moments Like This," Herrera specifically confronts the legacy he's leaving his family, and it's surprisingly poignant. MXPX is a blueprint for how any pop-punk band can mature without losing that youthful spark that makes the genre so dang fun in the first place.

Highlights: Rolling Strong, The Way We Do, Moments Like This

9. Justin Courtney Pierre -- In The Drink: Two grueling years after the demise of Motion City Soundtrack (one of my Top Five favorite bands), former frontman Justin Courtney Pierre has returned with a solo album that manages to capture much of the spirit of MCS, but of course, with a more personal, intimate spin. Pierre still graces listeners with his intricate wordplay and earworm hooks, but also highlights some techniques and instruments that rarely took prominence in MCS (the bouncy bass in "Shoulder the Weight" is a personal favorite). In The Drink cuts right to the core of every song, especially in the exhilarating title track; the album is blistering, economical, and often ruthless, not just musically (only two songs clock in at over three minutes), but also lyrically, examining some surprisingly dark scenarios with the honesty and careful empathy fans have come to expect from Pierre. It's great to have him back (I still miss Jesse's MOOG, though).

Highlights: Anchor, Shoulder the Weight, In The Drink

8. Jeff Rosenstock -- Post-: The first album of 2018 (seriously -- Post- was a surprise release on 1/1/18) remained urgent, relevant, and relatable throughout the entire year -- that's not good for the world, but it's great for Post-. Jeff Rosenstock's social commentary is as sharp as ever, deftly mixing the political and the personal, especially in tracks like opener "USA," which dives head-first into the paranoia, apathy, and hypocrisy of modern American living. The frustration and hopelessness of trying to change a broken system coats this album like dew, but Rosenstock's approachable and energetic strain of punk make them seem manageable -- or at least bearable -- nonetheless, and closer "Let Them Win" provides much needed catharsis and hope; it's a rally cry for a better future. Post- wasn't necessarily the follow-up to Worry. that anyone expected, but it's certainly the one we needed, right when we needed it.

Highlights: Powerlessness, 9/10, Let Them Win

7. The Penske File -- Salvation: Out of all the albums on this list, Salvation by far was the biggest (and happiest) surprise. Having never heard of them before, I saw The Penske File open for (the irresistibly fun) PKEW PKEW PKEW back in October and was blown away by their harmonies, by Alex Standen's ability to balance drums and lead vocals at the same time, and most of all, by a song that dug its way into my head and wouldn't let go. That song turned out to be album stand-out "Spin My History" (easily one of my top favorite new songs of the year), and thankfully, all the best aspects of The Penske File's live show translated perfectly over to Salvation. The vocals are the perfect combination of intensity, melody, and harmony; the lyrics expertly capture and unpack moments in time; the music itself (especially when accompanied by harmonica, which pops up in a few songs) wonderfully reflects the mood of each song, be it the reckless abandon of "Lakeshore" or the aching nostalgia of "American Basements." Thanks to Salvation, I could easily see The Penske File following in the blue collar punk footsteps of bands like the Menzingers, and that's high praise indeed.

Highlights: Spin My History, Come What May, Blessed Unrest

6. Joyce Manor -- Million Dollars to Kill Me: Joyce Manor has never been a band content to make the same album twice, and Million Dollars to Kill Me not only continues the musical evolution that began on 2016's Cody, but manages to run an entire musical gamut in under 25 minutes. Million Dollars to Kill Me shows off Joyce Manor's impressive range, leaping from something approaching hardcore ("Up The Punks") to shoegaze ("Gone Tomorrow") to ballads ("I'm Not the One") to even doo wop ("Silly Games"); lead singer Barry Johnson likewise moves between the frenetic, frantic yowls of "Up The Punks" or "Big Lie" to the gentle, sing-songy joy of "Wildflowers," revealing new facets to his voice and thus finding new notes for Joyce Manor to hit. Underneath it all, though, lies some wonderfully classic emo, with Johnson channeling intelligent, introspective, and bittersweet lyrics into each and every track. Not every song on Million Dollars to Kill Me is going to work for every listener, but every single one of them is guaranteed to leave an impression.

Highlights: Big Lie, Million Dollars to Kill Me, Wildflowers

5. Bad Moves -- Tell No One: On first listen, it might be Tell No One's flawless harmonies that most catch your attention, or perhaps the bouncy, infectious melodies of its early tracks. Spend some time with it, though, and Tell No One has so much more to offer. Bad Moves makes some truly ambitious musical leaps here, especially on tracks like "Out of Reach," whose bridge and outro layers several different, contrasting harmonies over a darkly ominous riff; it's the musical equivalent of standing at the edge of a hurricane, and it's exhilarating. Ultimately, though, it may be Tell No One's lyrics that leave the greatest impression. Bad Moves creates anthems for those on the outskirts of society; Tell No One features songs about dealing with disappointing your family, forbidden romances, dark family secrets, growing up queer, facing police harassment, and the toll hiding parts of yourself can take on you, but also some uplifting tracks about using everything you've got to make life better for everyone around you. There's albums I liked more this year, but I don't think there's any lyrics that hit home for me harder than the ones on Tell No One.

Highlights: Spirit FM, Out of Reach, Missing You

4. The Get Up Kids -- Kicker: Kicker is the Get Up Kids record I've wanted for more than a decade now; it's a band recapturing lightning in a bottle. The first three tracks channel the pop-punk glory of the Red Letter Day/Something to Write Home About era without copying it wholesale (there's a rawness to the guitars and Matt Pryor's voice that was absent on those releases; it's very rock and roll), and the lyrics take that trademark Get Up Kids earnestness and update it for 2018, with Pryor and Jim Suptic tackling topics like regret, responsibility, and family with the same honesty and emotional intensity they once saved for tales of adolescent love and heartbreak. And then comes the closer, "My Own Reflection," which sounds like nothing the Get Up Kids have ever done before, a track driven by one of James Dewees' best synth-lines, some propulsive drums, and a striking, surprising bit of profanity. It's somehow upbeat and downbeat simultaneously, totally bittersweet, and thus emo in a nutshell, while also transcending so many of the genre's (and this band's) most common cliches; if these four songs are the future of the Get Up Kids, then it's a bright one indeed. The main reason Kicker isn't ranked higher on this list is because it's an EP rather than a full record (it's harder to keep this level of quality up for 12 tracks instead of 4), but let's not mince words: every single song on this EP is perfect.

Highlight: My Own Reflection

3. Save Face -- Merci: Merci would be ambitious even if it wasn't Save Face's debut release -- it's a concept album about addiction and the way it can destroy lives and relationships, accompanied by music videos for each and every track, linking together to form a visual novel of sorts. What's even more impressive than all that ambition, though, is the fact that it all works -- the overall concept forms a compelling narrative on its own, but should still resonate with anyone who's dealt with addiction or mental illness, with heartbreak and loss, with self-hatred or self-destructive habits. All those ideas are packaged within some truly explosive tunes -- Save Face's riffs are so big it's a wonder they can even be contained within the record, and singer Tyler Povanda's voice cracks with passion and mania, accompanied by some cathartic, soul-piercing screams, yet Povanda also has the range to capture the smaller, more nuanced emotions beneath all the outsized drama. The simple melodies reveal more and more layers the more you listen to them, creating a record I've returned to over and over, consistently, throughout 2018. Merci is almost as addictive as the substances its songs highlights, although in this case, that's a feature, not a bug.

Highlights: Bad, Plans, Love

2. Saves the Day -- 9: There's a line from their song "It's Such a Beautiful World" that sums up both Saves the Day and their newest album, 9, perfectly: "Let them say what they say/we're gonna play what we play." That instinct has proven polarizing at times, but as an absolute Saves the Day fanatic, I've always found it a joy and privilege to join the band as they follow their muse, and thankfully, 9 is no exception. 9 is an investigation and celebration of Saves the Day's history and legacy; some listeners have criticized this as being self-indulgent, but Saves the Day has always been a band that's channeled very specific scenarios into relatable and cathartic emotion, and at its best, 9 does just that, from the power and joy of friendship ("Side By Side") to nostalgia and the way our experiences help us change and grow ("Rendezvous"), all of it wrapped up in the power music has to bring people together (and if that last point's not something you can appreciate, then I'm not sure how you even found this list). Meanwhile, "Rosé'" provides a classic Saves the Day diss track that wouldn't feel that out of place on Stay What You Are, while the 22 minute "29" transforms frontman Chris Conley's entire life story into a sprawling epic that needs to be heard to believed. 9 also provides an opportunity for each and every member of the band to show off; lead guitarist Arun Bali continues to highlight his ability to shred in increasingly cool and unique ways, Rodrigo Palma sneaks fun bass flourishes into every song, absolutely taking charge of "1997," and Conley stretches his voice to unexpected heights, be it the yowls of "Side By Side" or the falsetto of "Saves the Day." Hell, they even kick 9 off by writing their own theme song. If you can't appreciate that, this probably isn't the album for you, but man, that is my exact kind of jam.

Highlights: Side By Side, Rosé, 29

1. The Wonder Years -- Sister Cities: I can't remember the last time I've seen an album become an essential part of a band's canon as fast as Sister Cities has, especially considering how far The Wonder Years are into their career at this point. Sister Cities is undeniably a Wonder Years album despite sounding almost nothing like what's come before, and in large part, that's due to Dan Campbell's sheer skill as a storyteller. The songs on Sister Cities pick up the ideas of compassion, connectivity, and home introduced on previous albums and take them global; Campbell discovers the similarities between his relationship and the relationship of a homeless couple despite all their differences, finds a lifeline from his overwhelming grief half a world away, and just overall finds power in exploring what holds us together as human beings rather than what splits us apart. Even the music videos tap hard into these ideas; last winter I wrote about how the video for "Sister Cities" finds power in connection, and its follow up, "Raining in Kyoto," expands upon this by cutting back and forth between life in Kyoto and Philadelphia, showing how, no matter where you go, people are just trying to live their lives the best they can. Lyrically, Campbell just keeps getting better and better, creating vivid metaphors and word pictures and finding perfect turns of phrases; he's straight-up the best in the biz at knowing just when and how to use profanity to the maximum effect (seriously, nobody else should be allowed to use the word "goddamn" in a song until they can do it even half as well as Campbell does in "Pyramids of Salt" or "Flowers Where Your Face Should Be"). Musically, Sister Cities takes big risks, and finds success, in going small more often than not, but reaches its greatest heights in closer "The Ocean Grew Hands To Hold Me," a song that just builds and builds until it reaches this epic swell of pure catharsis that just washes over you like the ocean. Honestly, Sister Cities is so emotional that it can sometimes be hard to listen to. That kind of power is that makes it my favorite album of 2018.

Highlights: Sister Cities, Flowers Where Your Face Should Be, The Ocean Grew Hands To Hold Me

#The Wonder Years #Joyce Manor #Jeff Rosenstock #Saves the Day #Saves Face #Bad Moves #MXPX #The Get Up Kids #Justin Courtney Pierre #The Penske File #Pivitor #music

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hennythejetsmith · 6 years ago

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Window Part One

Water raced down the glass as the storm ensued. I likened the drops to stars as I peered through the window toward the sky. A reflection of heaven in the form of her tears as I created my own constellations. This four-sided room repelled summer’s petrichor; it was the first rain of the season. The rain drummed ever so slightly on the pane as if it waited for Miles Davis’ trumpet to accompany the lulling rhythm; where were the aristocrats & lovers of jazz to slow dance the night away. Ironically, Jim Hall’s Concierto De Aranjuez played on in the background & I cherished the lasting memory of her I had; a lone orchid catty-corner the looking glass aka my escape. A crack of the window was okay for fresh air every so often, but I preferred her fragrance, he flower that is. As if it were the rose & I were the beast, the glow mustn’t ever die out, even as she went on to love another. I still love her y’know? Of course, I’d never muster the strength to mutter out a single indication of such for wallowing in this unrequited torment truly is a pastime of mine.

The lavender futon held many a soul captive that fell victim to its underappreciated comfort. Through a torrential downpour, you could see a young man, maybe in his early 20s, rise into view & disappear into what looked like a college kid’s dorm or contemporary minimalist coffee shop. From ground level, you could vaguely see strung up lightbulbs, thumbtacked polaroid photos, & what looked like an unfinished canvas. The neighbors knew little of this “millennial,” though he subscribed to ideal of unsubscribing to labels. Placing citizens in categories based on their birthyear may work for some on a literal level, but the soul itself, transcends the confines of any linear time period. A quick gander outside & he turned his back as he vanished from eyesight of any bystander. A quiet little suburban area is where he’d come home to rest at night. He never really uttered much but a “hello, how are you?” to those that lived aside him. If you were quiet enough, the keys of a piano would faintly soothe the mind & relieve you of the bustle of real life between the drywall that separated the humble town home from the others.

“My hair is a mess,” a quiet thought to myself staring at the looking glass. The bronze & gold finish around the mirror is a bit tacky; I could’ve done without this.

He shrugged his shoulders in complacency & carried on.

Vivacious, just as it was when she first brought you in here, my love. Just like her, beauty unparallel. I imagine right now, she has nestled up under her sill as her rosy lips are kissed ever so gently by summer’s breeze. How am I to compete as nature nurtures her very being? A love affair where I quietly, yet graciously, am on the outside as the third wheel.

His mind rarely took the time to be sit by itself, even as he did externally. The image of she & he had internally been etched onto his consciousness’s wallpaper.

The inkwell seems to be refilling, where have my pen & notebook ran off to? They too, in some sort of flirtatious dalliance & I am nothing but the conduit for their interaction; not that it bothers me.

He reached for a string to lower the shutters in his room. A sense of intimacy was needed that the world could not witness, according to him at least. The surrounding periwinkle paint provided a calm as a neon “Good Vibes” shone light juxtaposed the outer gloomy sky blocking out the moon. The clean-cut young adult reached to the right of his futon alongside the right wall of his room & grabbed a green notebook. “CVS” adorned on the bottom right of the pad really did not mean much alone but intertwined with the midnight trips for juice & snacks, his heart would skip a beat as his eyes skirted across the cover. It truly was the simple things that would get him. He really loved her. He flipped open to a random page with a ball point pen resting on the coiled bounds of the book. One last stare at the orchid that rest in the corner of his room & his lids covered his eyes. Reaching for his pen, he seemed to be in some sort of trance, becoming a body chattel for some higher being as words begun to scribble across the college-ruled paper.

Your silence is deafening.

Am I to be at fault

For knowing not that to gift you with my heart

Would leave me in joyous ruin?

An endless current; yet presentably stoic. No one shall ever know of the affinity I have for you still. Deceit is my greatest weapon & these pages remain privy to myself only. Short & sweet this time I see; reminiscent to the inevitable beginning & end of our fiery passion.

_______________________________________________

Coins clink together, sirens ring non-stop, lights flicker on & off like some rave, but all I see is her flowing cinnamon hair & feel the soft touch of her hand. She told me she had always wanted to play Ms. Pac-Man in a genuine arcade, but never had the chance. I cannot seem to remember her name, but the crescent inked on the back of her neck, Luna could be a moniker until my memory decides to refresh itself. I have doomed myself to be labeled some male chauvinist pig objectifying her for the night. Fuck, I must think of somethi-

“Hey, so are you ready to lose?”

“I really do not think you know what you are getting yourself into Luna. Sorry, I saw the tattoo on the back of your neck & couldn’t help it. I hope you do not take offense.”

“Oh, no. It’s okay.” Whew, dodged one bullet, now to remem-

“My name, by the way, is Ana. That was your last chance to forget.”

Despite the fluorescent bulbs incessant flashing, my eyes are fixated on you Ana. Subtle, yet sent straight to my spine; forget your name, never again will I.

“How did you know?”

As Ana chuckles, she responds,

“Because you just told me.” She laughs again & proceeds past the row to what seems to be an endless amount of ski ball tables. With all the calamity surrounding us, all I could hear was the sound of her voice. Softly fluttering atop my ear drums akin to the late great Amy Winehouse.

“Really a shame what has to happen here. You sure you don’t want to hop in the Jurassic Park game? That’ll be fairer considering I haven’t played that since my Chuck E. Cheese days.” No response as we traverse the litter of children & adolescence. I can hear the chains rattling from the basketball games in the corner; I watch the tickets fall out of the Whack-A-Mole; I wonder how many tries before that bonus tickets slot is hit on that one game all the kids want to play. 500 tickets for the bonus is pretty good, I’m sure someone will be lucky enough.

There was no line for the Ms. Pac-Man placed in the back corner. Most kids were more concerned not with the classics but winning the prizes behind the counter. Playstation 4s & the new Xboxes were for the top ticket getters alongside the motor scooter that seemed to have been collecting dust for quite some time. It was a bit smoky in Kat’s 24-hour arcade. Marijuana smoke was a lot less bothersome to her than tobacco though. Whenever she smelt a hint of cigarette, the lights came on & the games shut down until the culprit was found & removed hastily. Some nights, she closed early because no one wanted to come forward. She made sure the kids were out by 9 o’clock pm, some snuck around after, because she knew that grown folks too, loved to play video games to escape the endless cycles that left so many of her regulars entrapped. Their cynicism & vitriol toward their very own lives brought tears to her eyes every so often. So, she decided to invest in giving others a chance to relive their childhoods. Kat always sat in the back on her wooden stool next to the NBA JAM, her favorite. You wouldn’t know that she was a huge Orlando magic fan living up north in the Big Apple. Always a chip on her shoulder from the “what if” with Shaq & Penny. Tonight, was no different; she was sitting in the back, watching highlights from their golden era as a couple zoomed right by headed straight for Ms. Pac-Man. For a second, she was distracted due to how young they looked.

“Hmph, at least some of these ‘millennials’ know a little bit about nothing,” she thought to herself as she refocused back to “The Youtube.”

I really underestimated her. All I hear is waka-waka-waka-waka; all I see are intermissions & level design changes; & I feel that I am about to lose! Maintaining composure is key, but she has not lost a single life & now a random assortment of fruits is dispersing through maze openings like an opened pack of Runts. She has absolute control of the screen & it’s as if she flows effortlessly with the ghosts; she is one with Ms. Pac-Man.

“It’s your turn. You don’t have to be astonished anymore. I tried to warn you, but you didn’t want to listen. Sol.”

She slid to the side as it was my turn. No way that I take an early loss. She’s at about 43,000 already before my first go around.

“Sol?”

“Well, it would only be right to call you Sol, considering you named me Luna. Or are you unaware of the moon’s opposite Shawn?”

“I mean, it seems you haven’t forgotten my name.”

“It would be rude to do so. We all can’t be you, now can we?”

Is she being serious? Or is this a sarcastic barrage to distract me fro-well that is the end of my turn.

“Well played. Ana.”

She smiled in a snark manner. Who are you & what is this fluttery feeling in my stomach?

_______________________________________________

“To play into a stalemate is the goal here. I am at a severe disadvantage right now,” Shawn thought to himself as he eyed the dual-colored board. Erratic sleep patterns would leave him in states of melancholy that were relieved with doses of chess: mano y mano. His opponent, usually visible not to the naked eye, unless a photographer had photoshopped a still image of himself imposed on the wall. Each piece calculated & moved while simultaneously calculating how many moves would no longer stall his inner peace before sunrise. The shadows on his wall were not envious as they watched with morose endurance. They murmured amongst themselves questioning if she were to ever return, but not even the remnants of her no longer played on the periwinkle walls in his sleep. Piece after piece was removed from the board as the stars laid down to rest. His eyes never wavered until 2 Kings remained atop the wooden square. The moon peaked through the blinders, shed a tear, & blew a kiss before she too, disappeared in the morning. Sometimes, she kept an eye on him & the sun was a bit jealous of their connection. He did not know what the moon saw in Shawn. The megastar’s bitterness brought forth a chilly June day. A purple windbreaker & sweat shorts were enough to combat back. A bit unusual, but no deterrence as Shawn strolled past the emerald green lawns & lush trees; much the same to some family-oriented television sitcom. Shawn was unaware that a smile crept up on his face, but the neighbors took notice & waved as he quickened his pace down the side walk. Blue jays harmonized in the air above him as he eyed butterflies frolic through the air & he suddenly stopped in his tracks…

_______________________________________________

Melted together where the colors of the carnival as Shawn felt Ana clinch onto his arm & the body-sized tiger that came between them as the teacup frantically span the three into a muzzy state of joy.

“You two look like a real-time version of Calvin & Hobbs. Carmen & Hobbs is what I’ll call you two.”

Shawn had gotten a little more comfortable with Ana after a few dates. She scornfully stared a hole into his forehead.

“You still haven’t gotten over that Ms. Pac-Man beating have you? It’s okay, one day the shattered ego you have will finally be content. Until that day, I will starve that small little man that screams inside of your mind until it is victory you concede & you melt into the putty I envision you to mold you into the sculpted man I truly desire. Right now, this is just the waiting game. You were distracted too easily to converse when we were in the heat of war. Your loss.”

Her tongue was paint, or acid, her choice. He, simply, was a blank canvas for her liking at this very moment.

“Maybe, its more so that you’ve chosen to indulge a bit too deeply in the appetizer that I handfed you with the victory I allowed you to have. Whose to say your victory wasn’t fixed?”

“All speculation. Of course, this type of allegation you would lean on to save face. Very Tim Donaghy of you Shawn. I’m disappointed.”

“I mean, since that point, your victories have become few & far between. Even that night, pinball, clear-cut win in my column. Air Hockey was a 7-0 skunk. Basketball wasn’t even a challenge. Donaghy? Really?”

“See how two of those three play to your advantage, with maybe the exception of air hockey because the table is even, but your physical strength gives you an advantage when you decide that my whole became a target & your…whatever they are called, because an AK-47 as you fired the puck with no restraint? How does fried victory taste? Hopefully as nutritious as a microwavable patty covered in barbecue sauce people clamor on about.”

“Doesn’t matter its value, because in that moment it tastes so fucking good, I care not for the bigger picture there, but enjoying the RIGHT NOW!”

The two had not noticed that all eyes in the carnival had locked onto their jawing match. That did not matter now, Ana’s curly brown & auburn hair had become vibrant & through her glasses, he glared directly into her darkened eyes & she too, was magnetized by his. Tension in the air was still as many were frozen, not knowing what was next. A vein in his neck pulsated as sweat trickled down her brow. Both, instantaneously after realizing what this was, scurried off to the closest blackened corridor. They found an absent alley by a Ferris Wheel ridden by many. Ana dropped her Hobbs in withered grass & turned her back to the wall as Shawn gripped her hip & both their full lips met in passion. Onlookers cheered from the skyline as they snapped back to reality, simmering their immature fervor.

“Really? Our first kiss comes from your antagonistic… never mind. You wi… oh wait, you won’t get me that easily.”

“I’ve already won,” she responded. “The moment I led you through Kat’s doors. I felt it. That doesn’t matter now, shut up & kiss me.”

_______________________________________________

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aion-rsa · 5 years ago

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The Secret Origin of Superman: Year One

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John Romita Jr. takes us inside his creative collaboration with Frank Miller and the secrets of DC's Superman: Year One.

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Superman: Year One, an oversized three issue limited series from DC is a new exploration of the Man of Steel's origin story from Frank Miller and John Romita, Jr. The book has grabbed headlines for its unconventional approach to Clark Kent's early days. We sat down with Mr. Romita for an in-depth look at how the project came to be, the creative partnership between the two legendary comic book greats, and the classic elements that went into Superman's "new" costume. He even gave us some interesting hints about this version of Superman's past...and potential future.

Den of Geek: Superman: Year One is a big project and you're working with another big name in Frank Miller. How did this come about, how were you approached to do this?

John Romita, Jr.: At some point, Dan Didio had proposed an idea in the infancy of this and had discussed it with Frank, and they talked about possibly expanding Frank's Year One format to Superman. But ironically, I think they felt that fans thought Frank didn't like Superman, because of the way he treated him in the Batman format. And Frank says, "I love the character."

read more: Aquaman, Black Manta, and DC's Year of the Villain

So they mentioned to me, "If Frank is interested, would you be interested?" I said, "Yeah, of course," as soon as I heard Frank was going to be a part of it because he and I work so well together. We've worked together in the past, and we came up in the industry together at the same time, working from plots. He knows what he likes, he knows what I like to do, and he just threw me a vague synopsis and let me run with it. And 200 pages later, we're here.

Wow, so were you working Marvel style on this?

Don't like to call it Marvel style.

I know. We can't say that when we're talking about Superman!

Frank likes to call it Stan Lee/Jack Kirby format, which is apt. Yeah, I do like working this way, and it's the point where I can get one line, one sentence, out of Frank and turn it into 25 pages. Just because knowing going in what it's going to be and how I would like to see it done and what I'd like to see done, I can play with it, and he can write the dialogue according to it.

read more: Batman Universe is a New Kind of Dark Knight Story

Fortunately, what I did was accepted and DC liked it and Frank liked it, but I would discuss it. I would thumbnail out the whole plot first to make sure it fits the 64 pages across three issues. And then I would call the editors and Frank, and tell them what I was going to do with those little vignettes, the scenes, what I was adding, and what I was going to do with it. They loved it and they accepted it. It was great.

That first issue is so Smallville focused, which has a really earthy feel to it, and then the second issue is Atlantis. So is there this elemental breakdown of each of these issues, where each one is going to have such a different feel to it?

I guess you could say that, but it wasn't intended to be that way. It broke into that format, the enlisting in the Navy at the end of the first issue, and then expanding on the Navy into the SEALS in the second issue, and then the ocean plays a big part in that.

I just think we hit our stride in the second issue. The first one was Smallville, so it was more mundane in that he lands as the baby in the beginning. The first 10 or 12 pages are from the baby's eyes. In other words, you don't see the baby until well into the issue in the reflection of the glass of the rocket. It's watching his world blow up, watching his parents disintegrate, then out in space, then arriving at the planet that his father had told him about, crash landing, and then opening up, and there's Pa Kent standing there waiting for him. All from his eyes. That is the only thing familiar with the story in the first one.

We played with everything a human goes through in adolescence all the way up to adulthood. All the little things you go through, bullies, dealing with school, football, sports, dealing with women (or dealing with men). Everything that a normal human goes through is applied to Superman as a super being.

What happens? You get bullied in a bar, you get bullied at school, and you're a super being knowing you're a super being. How do you not break somebody's neck accidentally? Of course, if I was a super being, I'd go back and get everybody that deserved to get hit and get them.

read more: Inside DC's Legion of Superheroes Reboot

But that is interesting is what’s applied to him by his Earth parents. They could have very easily been screwballs to begin with and he could have been an axe murderer. But the fact that they told him, "Don't hurt anybody, don't get hurt." It's from his mother, "Be a sweetheart." And his father says, "Yeah, you be a sweetheart, but if anybody lays a hand on you or your family, you have to take care of business." And he can't. He deals with bullies at school, because his friends get bullied. They can't touch him, so to speak. Then they bully his first love, Lana Lang, and he has to deal with them gently but firmly.

Then he goes through adulthood. He runs into a bully in a bar and accidentally starts a brawl while he's in the Navy. How do you deal with something like that? I think the way we did it, it was a little bit charming, but it was serious, and it was important. I loved the way we handle it, especially the barroom scenes, which of course, I know a lot about.

One of my favorite things about this is that new Superman costume design, where you've taken elements of the Fleischer Studios' Superman cartoons. This is the second time that you've gotten to put a new coat of paint on the Superman costume. I love that you chose the smaller “S” logo, with the black field and things like that. Can you talk about your influences on and did you and Frank collaborate on that? How did this work?

We both, almost simultaneously, admitted our love the Max Fleischer cartoons, and that was pretty much it. I think that having seen those animated shorts is what made us want to do that. It's as simple as that. Frank loved it and I loved it. I thought the animation was fantastic and I just loved the way the costume looked. So we tried to have an air of it, and that's why we changed the logo the way we did. But that was pretty much where it ended, as far as the costume similarities. And then the shorts were back, so we were back to the old costume. Actually, the neckline is a little bit lower.

Even his build is reminiscent of the Fleischer cartoons…

I wanted him to look like a leaner teen, so to speak, and then I immediately got taken to task online. "You have a geek, a skinny Superman? What's the matter with you, Romita?" I said, "Ma, come on."

Frank is known for Year One stories, and he took some heat because of All-Star Batman and Robin, and things like that, and that feeds the perception that he's not a Superman fan. But I think that first issue especially is pretty reverent to the spirit of the character, and issue two is something completely new that we've never seen. I know Frank always says that his Batman stories all take place in one corner of the universe. Is this the Superman of those Batman stories as well?

We'll have to find out.

Oh, really?

I can't say any more. I just gave it away, but you have to ask Frank if he had that intention going in, or if he has that intention after what we just finished. I don't want to say the word “finished,” let's just put it that way.

So, Superman: Year Two is a possibility?

Oh, no, I don't know what you're talking about.

Frank can be a bit of a lightning rod with this kind of stuff, but you have your own history with the character. And obviously, there's tremendous love for the character, and I think it does come through on the page, but what do you guys think, or what do you think, is the heart of Superman that just has to be in every story?

That's hard to describe. Other than the fact that he's a Boy Scout and he's an intergalactic super being, everything has to be through that lens. He's on Earth, so anything earthly has to be through that lens. He doesn't like bullies. He feels compelled to save the planet from itself. So much can be filtered through that lens. Anything from a common mugging to a supervillain coming from a different planet applies to him. That being said, we can twist it the way we like to make it good for the comics, so to speak. But I honestly feel that anybody that deals with fantasies about being a super being can apply their stories to this, especially us. I've always wanted to be a superman for one day and take care of everybody that's an asshole. Sorry about that.

It's okay.

To all you assholes, I'm sorry.

Don't apologize to them! What do you think of the format? It's not quite a treasury edition, but it's different. Did you draw this with that format in mind?

From the get-go, it was a large size. I don't know if Frank told them he wanted it in large format, or they applied that to us. All I know is that at first, it looked like I was working on a wall. It filled up my drafting table, and I could have wallpapered my house with the pages that we used. They were gigantic. As I got used to it over the course of 200 pages, the pages got smaller. I went back to another issue of the normal size paper. It was like working on a postage stamp.

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I love the larger size, because it's cinematic. The storyboard format panels, which I love, comes from my father saying, "Everything is a peripheral vision, like a movie screen." I like to work that way. I don't like to do any strange shaped panels. Vertical panels bother me, unless something is required to be shooting straight vertical. I love the wide lens. So this, with these pages, these gigantic pages, it was cinematic, it was fun.

Of course, I'm a moron for adding all the backgrounds that way, I tend to do that to myself, but I loved everything about the large format after I started. First, I cursed a little bit, then I loved everything about it halfway through it. Maybe.

Is this the first time you've had to work in that larger format?

Frank says when we started, we worked on pages that size, back in the 1920s, whatever that was. I don't remember working on paper that large, but he said the Daredevil: Man Without Fear that we worked on together was large paper. I don't know if it was this size, but this is the largest.

Was that Daredevil book done done Lee/Kirby style as well?

It was. It came from a movie treatment that Frank tried to get passed, and it didn't make it, so in his anger, he said, "We need to turn this into a movie." I approached him about doing a Wolverine graphic novel. He said, "Everybody's doing Wolverine. Let's do this." And he handed me the treatment and let me run with it. Then he called me a couple of weeks later and said, "I have an addendum to put in between page 17 and 18. I'll send it to you." He sent me a sort of synopsis and that addendum ended up being 88 pages. That's working with Frank. That's what happens. He said it was my fault, but anything Frank gives you, you can play with it. It's like getting a piece of clay and turning it into a statue, it's great.

What are you most excited for people to see in these next two issues?

There's a couple of scenes in the second issue. I absolutely loved the boot camp and the BUD/S training in the second issue, because I got to reference these heroes. I’m a big fan of the military, and I got a chance to draw San Diego in it. But there's a scene at the end of the third issue that I get a chance to draw a couple of characters with Superman that is one of the better moments in my career. It's great, and the choreography of the action is fun, of course. But doing things that I've never done before, like boot camp and SEAL training, and the BUD/S training, and playing with that, that these guys don't know this man's a super being, except for his drill sergeant, who has an idea there's something different about this guy. That's fun to me.

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I created something called surf-ups. He does push-ups in the surf, and he does something that annoys his drill sergeant. And he says, "You're going to break the record for surf-ups right now. They're going to be underwater from now on." Not knowing that he can breathe underwater. Playing with that kind of stuff and the amazement.

The barroom scene actually cracks me up. He's there talking to a journalist, and it's an attractive lady. And some drunk comes over and harasses her, and Clark Kent says, "Back off, you moron." And the guy takes a swing at him, and he blocks it, and the guy gets hurt and falls into a crowd of guys and start a bar fight. And Clark "started it," so to speak, and he gets turned every which way but loose by his drill sergeant. He has to do a million surf-ups. He's got to clean bathrooms, that kind of thing. I love that kind of familiarity with people. That was fun.

The art is recognizably you throughout. But I feel like there's something else in there that I can't quite put my finger on. Did you look to anything outside of comics, or did you pull in any other influences when you were designing this book?

No. The reason I say that is because I'm too busy trying to get that story right, and I sacrificed, maybe, some money shots. Honestly, the story was all important. I've been getting that from people that they loved the story. Then they say, "and the artwork was wonderful." Thank you. But when they say they love the story, that means I'm doing the right thing. Because if they pay attention to the art, and they're not paying attention to Frank's words, which of course, that's ludicrous, but if they love the story, that means I'm telling the story properly. That means they're reading it like they want to read a novel. I'd say it's a graphic novel. It was not in any way, shape, or form, an attempt to be derivative of anybody's style, or to do anything similar to my father, or Jack Kirby, or any other artist in the business.

read more: The Secrets of DC's New Batman/Superman Team

I've said this a million times. My father told me, "Get used to the fact that there's somebody better than you anywhere in the world. You're not going to be the best artist in the world, so just accept it and then do the best you can." I'm too busy trying to keep it on schedule, get it done on time, make sense of it, and not look stupid. "Don't F this up." Was the famous words of an astronaut. "Oh, lord, don't let me F this up." That's the feeling I had when I was starting.

Do you think more writer/artist partnerships working in comics right now, would benefit from working Lee/Kirby style?

Yes, if they're able to. I don't know how many young people can do the plot and lean on the artist to do as much as I was given the ability to. The leeway that Frank gave me, I don't know many guys ... If they can, that's wonderful. I embraced this, I think it's the way it should be, but it's heavy script in the last 20 years. I don't think it's necessary to give people dialogue. They should be able to tell a story and give the emotion and facial expressions on their own. Sometimes some artists can't.

I've had an artist call me and say, "I don't know how to tell a story without a script." It was a couple of years ago, and I said, "No, you can. You've done it before." "No, I've only worked from a script." "Wow, and you get paid for this, huh?" I honestly think everybody should be able to do it this way, but not everybody can.

Who was the first person you worked that way with?

From the get-go when I started at Marvel.

Really?

Absolutely, and I watched my father do it when I was a kid. Interestingly enough, Stan Lee, rest in peace, used to describe a plot to my father and let my father take notes. Stan would hop around the room, jump on the backs of chairs and pose for my father. My father would come back after having written notes, and then we would go on a road trip, and we would talk all about it. He would pace out the story all by himself and Stan would fill in the dialogue. That's an extreme version, but I've gotten literally a paragraph for 22 pages from John Byrne when we worked on Iron Man together, and that's the way I prefer it.

As long as you keep the editorial base, the need for the editors to get the character right, especially with a character like Superman, which... I don't have the history with the character. But as long as I get those things correct, then we're good to go in any direction. But I started off that way, and I got used to it.

Why do you think it changed?

Maybe people can't tell stories well, and they just needed the crutch, or the writers feel completed to direct everybody. I've had writers give me a tome, and I've had writers give me one paragraph. Fortunately, the artists that are writers now - John Byrne was an artist and became a writer. Frank Miller is an artist that became a writer - they know that I can tell a story, or they prefer it that way. I prefer it. I don't think anybody should work from script, but there should be some dialogue perhaps in the plot, so that their artist knows, "When somebody's angry, I'm going to say these words and design that panel appropriately."

I told Frank the scene after the bar fight, and he gets taken to task by his drill sergeant. It's a small figure yelling at Clark Kent with a gigantic panel, and I wrote in the borders: “every foul word you can imagine is in that panel.” I wonder how Frank is going to write that. I want to know what's going to go in that panel. I haven't seen it yet. "You F-ing moron, you're never going to see daylight again! You're going to be in a toilet the rest of your career!" I think that's the fun part.

What's next for you after Superman?

Ooh, I get to sleep, that's the great thing. I'm in the middle of doing two issues of Batman with Tom King, and I get to work with Klaus Janson again. And then the two of us, Klaus and I, are going to work with Brian Bendis on Action Comics. That'll be a year's worth at least, and then I got told a couple of things that are coming in my direction subsequent to that, and I'm looking forward to. DC's got a lot of fantastic things coming up, and I can't share them with you. I know what they are, and they're fantastic.

Mike Cecchini is the Editor in Chief of Den of Geek. You can read more of his work here. Follow him on Twitter @wayoutstuff.

Read and download the Den of Geek SDCC 2019 Special Edition Magazine right here!

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Interview Mike Cecchini

Aug 23, 2019

DC Entertainment

Superman

Frank Miller

John Romita Jr

SDCC

SDCC 2019

from Books https://ift.tt/2zhUXD7

#aion-rsa #Books

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superpotatesme00 · 8 years ago

Text

(Pidgance Fanfic) by AIR

Notes:

Sorry for the wait :(

Read: [Previous] || [Next] || [AO3 Link]

SO HERE IT IT^^

Becoming Aware

Chapter 4/5:

A Shocking Realization.

Can you pinpoint the exact moment you fell in love? What is it that makes you fall for someone? Is it their grandiose gestures, like showering you in flowers, money or beautiful words? Or is it the little things? The random yet sincere smiles, the immediate understanding through just one glance, the encouraging shoulder bumps, the stupid inside jokes that only you two understand, or is it their eager ears intently listening to whatever nonsense you have to tell? Such a seemingly insignificant gesture causes you chest to tighten.

Pidge continued to shriek with laughter. So much so, that her cheeks felt sore from their overworked smiling. She suddenly hesitated as a pain in her chest ached slightly.

Heart burn?

She looked at the over enthusiastic boy next to her. He laughed loud enough to shake the walls as he violently pressed the buttons to the controller. Her eyes scanned his features and she instantly formed a smile. Lance’s blue eyes fell to meet her’s and she felt an uncontrollable squeeze in her chest once more.

What?

You can’t always control who you fall in love with. It happens when you least expect it-.

No! no… I don’t- for Lance?!…Nope!

Not that any of this mattered to Pidge. Since Pidge wasn’t “in love”, and Pidge just had “heart burn.”

His cheeks were beginning to stiffen and make it difficult to do anything but smile. His eyes were watery and hot from his uncontrollable laughter on top of his stomach feeling sore from it all. Not that that was a bad thing, since Lance firmly believed laughing would eventually earn him a six pack.

“No no you gotta go left Lance! Watch the flank, watch the flank!” Pidge’s eyebrows were knit together and her glances held the reflection of their intense gaming.

“HOLD ON! WAI-NO! SHIT! I’m down…” Lance slumped over his knees in defeat.

“GYAHHAHAHAHHA SERVES YOU RIGHT?! IT’S ALL ABOUT STRATEGY MY MAN~” Pidge’s hands continued to press the buttons at amazing speeds. Her eyes glimmered as she bit her bottom lip with determination.

Lance felt an unexpected thump in his chest at the sound of her words, “my man.”

She said “MY man.” What does that mean??? I like how that sounds~

Lance lifted his gaze to catch a glimpse of the concentrated paladin. He couldn’t help but stare. She had very long eyelashes… and seeing her smile so widely while around him made him feel ridiculously giddy.

“What? Upset that your various so-called “skills” don’t include gaming?” She met his eyes with a smug lift of a brow.

The unexpected eye contact caught Lance off guard as he felt his face flush slightly.

No…Pidge gets along with everyone…this doesn't mean anything…I’m just over thinking it… …Why do I care anyway?

“RUDE! You know I’m amazing at pretty much anything! It-it was just an OFF day! Yeah!” Pidge almost spilled her soda in attempt to contain her laughter.

“HA HA HA~ I ain’t just good at console gaming, but I’m basically unbeatable on PC too~” Pidge straightened her back and rubbed her knuckles on her collar mimicking a polish.

“Yeah. I bet…” Lance frowned and threw his body back to sprawl over the couch.

The whole day had felt like a montage of cliche moments from a slice of life film. Everything was overwhelmingly fun and she would have never expected that she and Lance would click so well. Even back when Lance had so willingly dug around in the fountain to help her buy this console, she felt an unexpected connection…or potential connection between the two of them. Lance and Hunk ALWAYS had a blast with each other…But, she was different…She’s antisocial, almost standoffish…never wanting or needing anyone’s help or company. But most of all, she had never dreamed that should could actually get along with such an outgoing and extroverted guy.

Speaking of Hunk…

Coming back from the mall Hunk had seen how depressed the blue and green paladins were for not being able to play the new game, so he took up the task of figuring out how to make an adapter. He never told them, but Keith had seen him occasionally working on it. Staying up later than he usually would, tinkering around with some of the screens he had found in the storage units of the castle ship, then finally, just the day prior he had finally figured it out! He had told Lance first and even offered it as a persuasion for Lance to get Pidge to spend more time together. It was pretty much the cherry on top to the whole “Operation: Pidge x Lance Bonding.” Yet even prior to Hunks secret reveal, the two paladins had been spending the day as inseparable pees in a pod. It was awkward at first, mostly because of Pidge’s inability to be to physically close to Lance, but as they went on from talking, to running around singing makeshift concerts to each other, Pidge had found herself sitting butt-to-butt and shoulder-to-shoulder ( or in Pidge’s case: Head-to-shoulder) with Lance. Now, it was hard to go a second without any physical contact. Nothing weird though! Just nudges with the shoulders, pats on the back, and the occasional hair ruffling that was mostly done by Lance to tease Pidge. She didn’t mind though…It reminded her of her brother…yet…made her chest flutter.

Pidge reminisced as Lance updated the console. Little did she know that Lance was also swirling with thoughts of her.

Woah! I NEVER would’ve guessed that Pidge was so cool to hang out with! “He” was such a buzzkill back in the Garrison…but I guess she just needed a little warming up to! Makes me a little sad though, it would’ve been awesome to have been able to hang out sooner. Even if she was a “he.” …Who cares any way? “She” or “He?” No matter which: Pidge is smart, unexpectedly hilarious when she let’s loose and…well…pretty…

Both subconsciously raised their eyes to meet each other’s. Pidge flinched a bit, hoping to look away quickly but her eyes felt glued to his, unable escape. Lance felt the same but rather than internally panic, he enjoyed their moment. He could see every detail of her face down to her flawless complexion and basically nonexistent pores. She wasn’t kidding when she said her skin was pale, it seemed almost translucent and delicate to touch. There was a soft pink glow that could be seen underneath in her cheeks and ears. Part of him wanted to take her glasses off, but the other part wanted to keep them on since he was afraid he’d get too lost without the barrier dividing his eyes from her’s. Pidge was no different. She couldn’t help but notice just how nice his complexion was. It was no surprise though, since she was fully aware of his “spa days” and just how well he took care of himself. She wouldn’t mind if he had some blemishes though…Occasionally she would get them but luckily that dip in the castle baths had done some magical treatment to her occasionally puberty stricken face. A 15 year-old girl facing raging hormones causes her more breakouts than attempt to salvage this nonexistent figure of her’s. She couldn’t help but want to reach out and poke his soft cheeks, and she really envied how his blue eyes stood out from his sun kissed skin.

Without noticing both had been slowly inching closer to one another, almost close enough for their finger tips to touch, but safe enough to keep a reasonable distance. Lance smelled of peppermint and a hint of tropical shampoo. Pidge gave off the slightest sent of lavender from her fluffy hair, but most of all had the pleasant smell of bubblegum on her breath from her incessant gum chewing.

Pidge parted her lips to speak and Lance couldn’t help but be drawn in by the sweet scent and sight of her small pink lips.

“Lance…Um-So-!” Without notice the door behind them slid open, sending them both into a frenzied panic. The perpetrator was non-other than Hunk.

“hh-Hey…Guys!” He was panting, barley lifting his head to speak. Both blue and green shared equally confused expressions.

“i-I..Came…to get…You…”

“What’s with that buddy? You’re actin’ like ya ran a marathon!” Lance sat up taller and hopped over the back of the couch closer to Hunk. Pidge had sat up as well but stayed and watched.

“You okay Hunk???” She was worried something had happened.

“Oh…Yeah! Sorry! I just ran over to ask you guys if you heard Allura’s-”

“Attention Paladins! Could I have you ALL come to the common room please? I have quite a fun surprise!”

Yellow, blue and green all looked up simultaneously in the direction of the voice. Meanwhile, down a couple corridors the rushing of a shower head was shut off abruptly. Having heard the request the paladin quickly ruffled his hair with his towel and retreated to his room (wearing only a thin towel) to get dressed.

In the opposite wing of the castle could be heard the huffing and strenuous grunts of a young paladin striking down a single gladiator right on time to hear the intercom. The gladiator hit the floor with a loud thud and instantly pixelated away. The young paladin had kept his hair tied up a bit, since it would itch the nape of his neck. He wiped the sweat off his forehead, grabbed his jacket, and nonchalantly headed for the door.

“Oh! There you all are! That was quick!” Coran smiled widely, flaring his elegant mustache.

“Of course! The paladins must ALWAYS be ready! No matter the reason- Wait, there is only two of you…” Allura had turned to face the approaching subjects to realize that not only were both Lance and Pidge missing, but so was Hunk.

“Sorry Princess. We were all off on our own, so they are probably just out in the Lion’s landing decks.” Shiro brushed his hair out of the way as it began to drip onto his scarred nose bridge.

Allura couldn’t help but keep her eyes fixated on Shiro, even as he spoke with Keith. All of the paladins were adolescents but Shiro, was a full fledged, unbearably attractive adult…at least that explained Allura's clearly uncontrollable infatuation.

Hunk had managed to retrieve his two friends from the landing deck. They all realized they were running a bit late but had decided they would just take their time since the common room was quite far and this wasn’t an emergency.

Pidge was the smallest and out of habit the two boys walked on either side of her. Almost like an escort. Pidge never said anything but she always thought it was bit funny. Back at the Garrison she felt that maybe it was their subconscious brotherly instinct since they were tall and she was a bit…vertically challenged. She and Lance were excitedly telling Hunk about all the random shit they had been doing and Hunk was having a blast hearing his two best friends talk non-stop. Pidge began to imitate Lance and the way he had sung, resulting in Hunk ripping a massive fart from his uncontrollable laughter. It was sudden and Hunk couldn’t help but blush, only for the two to burst out in laughter and almost hit the floor from their now weak knees.

“So, how do you think it’s going buddy?” Hunk had taken the opportunity to ask Lance as both their paces fell a bit behind Pidge’s.

“Huh? Oh! Hmmmm…It’s gonna sound crazy but like way better than expec-!”

“Move along slow pokes, we have a mission!” Pidge had suddenly backtracked and playfully nudged Lance in the side.

“Roger that commander!” Without second thought, Lance saluted in sync with the small paladin as they marched ahead.

Hunk, a bit dumbfounded, observed the two of them for a split second, before smiling as he noticed how his two buddies were desperately containing their giggles.

It seemed that “Operation: Pidge x Lance Bonding” was nothing but smooth sailing.

“-yes, well. Now, that ALL of you are accounted for-” Allura shot a piercing glare at Lance specifically.

“Hey! Why ya giving me the stink eye!? Shorty and Hunk are culprits too!” Hunk gave Allura an apologetic smile, but Pidge pinched Lance’s arm.

“The reason I had you all gather here was because Coran, Hunk and I all thought it would a brilliant idea to have another go at our team bonding exercises!”

“The rules are simple my colorful warriors! This game is called Filhae S’qire. It consists of 5-10 players and in essence it similar to your human game of hide-and-seek.”

Keith shifted his weight as his thick eyebrows knit together in confusion: “We aren’t seriously going to play a kid’s game are we?”

Lance scoffed and his shoulders trembled causing Kieth’s eye to twitch in annoyance.

“WHAT?” It didn’t sound like a question.

“(*attempting to calm down*) What’s wrong Keith, you scared you and that mullet of your’s are gonna loose to this gorgeous specimen? I mean- Cuz’ if you are I don’t blame ya~”

“I’m not scared!” Keith took a step towards Lance.

“Yeah? Prove it~” Lance leaned his weight nonchalantly onto his left leg, giving Keith a sideways smirk.

Shiro could feel the heat radiating off the already hotheaded Keith and decided to step in.

“All right you too.” He placed a reaffirming hand on Keith’s shoulder. “Actually Princess, I’m a bit lost…why is it you think that playing a game will get us to work better as a team?”

“a-uh…Well, I never said it was a teamwork exercise, but a team bonding exercise. You will need to understand each other to find where each is hiding…” Allura trailed off, unable to look Shiro in the eyes. They felt like they could see right through her ruse and the fact this was just a poor excuse to play a game. She didn’t want him to think she was childish.

“I see, well I’m not against it. It’s good to have fun once in a while too.” Shiro smiled causing everyone else’s faces to light up.

The dynamic of the game was simple. Much like the Earthling game, the players would each take turns being the finder (or the person who’s “It”) while the remaining players had about 100 tics to hide. The game lasted as many rounds as there were players, in this case 7. But…There was a twist to it. The first round gave the person who was “it” about 10 minutes to find all the players…round by round the time limit would reduce progressively giving the person who was “it” less and less time to find ALL the players. All participants had to wear sensors and in the last 30 seconds of each round the finder’s sensor would start giving a warning signal, and once time was up he or her would be…electrocuted. Just how the rounds each more more intense…so would their electrocutions. And…if that wasn’t the worst part…the people doing the hiding would also get an increasingly more painful zap each time they were found.

Obviously, by this point no one wanted to play anymore. Especially not Hunk, who had so eagerly agreed to this “fun” game. But that didn't matter anymore, since Allura had already stuck the sensors onto each of their foreheads before Coran could finish explaining the rules…

“Heh…heh…No biggie…” Lance had been the master at hiding from his little nieces and nephews back home but currently his confidence was withering away.

“Guys…I’m going to die.” Hunk trembled as all the paladins kept their eyes on the ground. Even Shiro, who was at this moment regretting all his life decisions.

“…the sensors don’t come off until the game ends…and I’m sure they shock you if you try to tamper with them.” Pidge didn’t expect a response but Allura nodded anyway.

Allura’s ears were slightly drooped. She kept her eyes on the sad circle of paladins as she leaned in closer to Coran: “Coran…Did I say something wrong?”

“No Princess, just that…we Alteans have always been infamous for our extreme forms of…entertainment.”

The situation was awkward…to say the least. But, unfortunately the events prior had forced this predicament.

The game, as you may have thought was not going well, more so for the unlucky few. Of those few was Hunk, who had been the first and and only person found in the first round. Coran had been “it” and was able to catch a glimpse of what looked like someone’s ass sticking up from under the dinner table. Hunk felt the shock in between his eyes before being able see Coran’s always majestic mustache. Next from Hunk was the unfortunate Lance. It’s not that Lance was miserable at hiding. Allura was just ridiculously good at the game…he never stood a chance. He had managed to climb into a vent that was up so high he had to climb Shiro’s lion to reach it. And, just before he could celebrate the last 30 seconds of the 3rd round, Allura's sudden appearance had scared Lance shitless while simultaneously being electrocuted in the head. The high pitched scream could be heard by all the terrified and sweating paladins. No one was safe that round…And if you are wondering about the second round just prior…Let’s just say that Lance was unsuccessful in finding ANYONE. The next three rounds continued the intense game of what seemed like life or death. Round 4 ended in the zapping of both the poorly hidden Coran (who was posing as a plant), and the slow finder, Hunk. Shiro was “it” for the following round (5) and by this point he was sure no one could take much more. He especially did’t want Katie nor Allura being shocked. So, he chivalrously gave up the round to be solely electrocuted. Round 6 was Pidge’s turn and a genius like her actually put Allura’s words into practice, “You will need to understand each other to find where each is hiding.” Pidge knew her teammates all too well, and although she regarded them as family, she preferred to save herself from the suffering. So, she paced herself to one-by-one pick off the the Alteans and paladins before her 30 second warning signal even went off.

Round 7 left everyone’s fates in Keith’s hands, and currently he was stalking his prey. Everyone, especially Hunk and Lance, were panicking by this point. Lance couldn’t help feel that Keith had it out for him. Amidst the panic, Lance had squished himself into an uncomfortable situation. Yet, not entirely undesirable for both parties.

It was completely coincidence and having realized his time to hide was up, took to the closest door he could find. But, someone had already chosen that spot, and that spot fit them well. It was a tiny squished storage unit and ironically held the cleaning utensils of the ship. It was pitch black in the closet and Lance never expected to feel his body slam into something other than a wall. That “something” being the small, fluffy Pidgeon.

They couldn’t see a thing and were chest-and-chest to each other. Well…more like head-and-chest. They were both quiet and Lance debated saying some sort of apology to Pidge. But, decided otherwise when he figured it would give them away to Keith; the last person he wanted to be seen by in such a questionable situation, or shocked by. His mind was a clusterfuck of panicked thoughts and attempted to calm himself down by focusing on one thing. Originally, he attempted to focus on Hunk’s previous farting but was completely overshadowed by the warm pressure of Pidge’s head on his chest. He looked down, to no avail, and was begging to become overwhelmed by the smell of her sweet shampoo. He closed his eyes and took in her scent.

HOLY CROW! FOCUS LANCE. Now you’re just acting like a fucking pervert.

He shook his head violently which made Pidge stir a bit. She was silent and he could barley hear her breathing.

Pidge couldn’t begin to fathom the situation. It happened so quick and she was completed flabbergasted when she saw the Cuban boy shove himself into the already tight closet. It was so small that their legs were shoved in between each other’s and something hanging on the wall forced her head onto his chest. He smelled as good as he did earlier, like peppermint and tropical shampoo. She could feel his breath on her hair and was too nervous to move. It wasn’t until he shook his head that she squirmed a bit. She figured that he was uncomfortable and maybe a bit disturbed to squished with the far-from-feminine Pidge.

That couldn’t have been farther from the truth though. Both their chest’s felt like they were going to explode, and their hearts beat so hard in their heads that they were afraid the other would hear. They both had tried to scoot away, only barley adding a couple inches of space between them. Lance’s head was leaned back and he stared into the darkness, feeling a tight knot in his throat and fluttering in his stomach.

Pidge was tired of this feeling that inevitably Lance had been causing her for a while. She wanted to solve it all in her head like an equation, she wanted to make sense of Lance and her. But, the talk she had had with Allura in the baths had made her realize something she had been denying herself. Lance meant a lot to her. He was always there for her. He was always there for everyone. He was amazing at all the things she felt she lacked, like empathy, charisma, outgoing, a big heart and a good listener. He always put people before himself, even if it wasn’t obvious: at the Garrison when he took the blame for her snide remark and the failed simulation or the time he risked his injured self to save her form Sendek. She never forgot those things…or the many other things he had done for her and the others. Sure he was a flirt, and a big idiot…But being this close to him, now, made her realize she never wanted him to be out of reach again.

Lance couldn’t read Pidge’s mind and he wasn't exactly as calculating as she was.

My chest is beating so loud she’ll probably hear it…Aw quizznack…I feel like I’m gonna fart under all this pressure!

Lance scrunched his face in resistance and once it was safe, felt his mind wandering back to Pidge, whose small legs were currently and inevitably intertwined with his own. His face was still burning and he couldn’t help but imagine her legs from that time he had seen her. They were so small and dainty, much like the rest of her. And, they held a pink undertone at the knees and ankles. Or her flushed cheeks and piercingly golden eyes…He wanted to feel just how soft she was…

NO NO NO LANCE! This is getting weird…I mean…I just…She’s just so goddamn cute. Like SHIT! I wanna squish her!

Lance hated that his own mind kept wandering to Pidge. She wasn't like other girls to him. She wasn't just a pretty think to look at. She was one of his best friends and he wanted to protect her. She was just a genius girl looking for her family and he wanted to help her accomplish that. He couldn't quite form what it was that he felt for her but it was almost as though she was too good for him to tarnish or touch. His dangerously low self-esteem was already covered by the idiotic mask he wore, he didn't want Pidge to deal with any of him. She needed someone reliable…someone better than him…

“Shit! I only got 2 minutes left!”

The sudden voice startled both the blue and green paladins, causing Lance to abruptly grab hold of Pidge’s shoulders. They held their breath as a black mullet passed by in front of the closed closet. Lance let out a small sigh and Pidge didn’t want the warmth of his hands to leave her. It was comforting even though he himself caused the painful squeezing in her chest.

The words almost formed in her head. It was on the tip of her tongue.

Lance was still lost in thought and little did he know that Pidge felt the bold desire to move closer to him, even if he was just some kid from Cuba. Something clicked in her head and she reached up on her toes closer and closer to Lance. She could feel his peppermint breath mix with her own. She knew she was close, she knew that even by accident she could reach his lips.

Her lips trembled as she opened her mouth to speak.

“…-!”

She was stopped short by excruciatingly loud zapping of the red paladin. Her face cringed in sympathy to his pain. The noise had startled Lance as well.

“Hey Pidge-!” Since Pidge had still been up on her toes Lance’s head met hers with full force. He lost his footing, resulting in the two of them toppling out of the sliding closet door.

“Urgh…” Lance groaned in pain as Pidge lifted herself up and dusted off her shorts.

She watched his slightly flushed face as she offered a helping hand. His hands were big and his fingers slender. She wanted to know what it would feel like to intertwine her small hands with his.

Allura quickly announced the end of the game and offered they all eat a well prepared meal. Pidge and Lance were just down the hall of the dinning hall and as Lance excitedly ran over to eat, Katie couldn’t help but smile…

Love huh? I could get used to that.

As promised, the three cadets (Lance, Hunk and Pidge) attempted to pull an all-nighter. Unfortunately, Allura’s ploy had left them all exhausted and unable to even finish the first half of Jaws. The rest had long gone to bed but “Space Dad” advised the 3 teenagers to not force themselves to stay awake.

At around 1AM Hunk’s stomach pleaded for a late night snack. Hunk was usually a heavy sleeper, but when it came to food he was quick to rise. He sat up and scratched his belly before slowly opening his heavy eyes to see where he was. Just as he was yawning he turned to see the unexpected: Lance and Pidge were snuggled up on the couch with their head rested on each other’s. Pidge’s glasses were folded next to her and only her toes poked out slightly from under the blanket that shielded them. Hunk was speechless and could barely believe his eyes. Then, his stomach’s beckoning directed him to the door. Once it slid open he couldn't help but look back. He noticed that Lance’s face was deeply rested into Pidge’s fluffy hair, almost lost. Hunk couldn’t help but giggle and it caught the attention of a passerby.

“Hunk?” Keith said quieter than usual.

Hunk motioned him to keep silent and smiled towards the couch. Keith observed the seen as well…only to look back and meet the goofy grin of the yellow paladin. Keith sighed and gave a relieved smile.

They both left without saying a word, heading towards the kitchen for a little late night snack.

****

THANKS FOR READING! Stay tuned for Chapter 5/6! :D

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#pidgance #flirtyrobot #plance #lidge #pidge x lance fanfic #voltron fanfic #AIR #voltron

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jimlingss · 8 years ago

Text

A Bed of Roses [4]

Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5

Words: 5850

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Superpower!Au

Summary: Superpowers are suppose to make you invincible, someone who could save the world, a hero. It’s not suppose to be like this...not like this.

“Where were you….before all of….this?” Yoongi speaks quietly but his voice is still rough, coated from dreams and snores. You turn to him, laying side by side on his tiny bed. His eyes widen when you’re millimeters away from his lips but your eyes flicker to his and you turn back to stare at the ceiling.

“...with my sister...living a happier life.” You answer with a reminiscent smile.

“Sister?” He asks with a lift of his brows. He wonders if he’s intruding too much on your life but with a lurch of boldness, he asks anyways. “Where is she?”

“Far away from this mess….thankfully.”

“Was she…..not part of the accident?”

“She was.” Silence weaves itself in between the space of you and Yoongi but it’s not the uncomfortable kind. You blink several times, lashes dusting on your cheeks and for a moment you think Yoongi’s dozed off again; temptation seducing you to do the same. “What about you?”

You turn to him when he doesn’t answer but he’s not asleep, instead staring at the ceiling in a daydream. “Music…..I made music.”

“Really?” He turns to you, witnessing your earsplitting grin. “That’s amazing Yoongi.”

He smiles softly back. “Yeah…”

“I’d love to hear you one day.” You ponder thoughtfully out loud.

Before Yoongi can respond, the door suddenly bursts open and you lurch, startled; the serenity shattered.

The both of you swivel your heads over to where a short boy you don’t recognize is standing with his face scrunched up in disgust. He takes a good look at how you’re laying next to Yoongi and “ew” is all he says before the door is slammed shut again; as quickly as it was opened.

The boy is fairly young, perhaps around the age of your sister and your curiosity can’t help but keep jabbing you in the ribs. Who is he and why is he suddenly on this floor? You have questions and a desperate craving for answers.

The rest of the guys had caught wind of the new stranger and soon, you were all crowding outside the rec room while peering in carefully as if observing a new species. “Just go in!” Jin harshly whispers, giving a slight nudge.

“Shh!” You swivel your head around with a finger on your lips. “What if we scare him?” The mysterious boy was already a foot shorter than you and bombarding him with the seven others towering over him...didn’t seem like the best idea in the world. You didn’t want to intimidate the poor kid.

“Aish, for goodness sakes! What’s the worst that can happen?” Yoongi grumbles before pushing Jimin, creating a domino effect and everyone stumbles into the room. Taehyung almost face plants onto the floor, but thankfully he grabs onto a chair and giggles out of relief.

The boy immediately shifts towards the group and his eyes widen for a second before returning to an expressionless face. He blinks and doesn’t say anything. The others look towards you for help and you step forward with a smile. “Hi there...couldn’t help but notice you were new! What’s your name?”

“Joongki.” He deadpans.

He’s wearing the same khaki green shorts and short sleeved shirt like the rest of you. Black jet hair, round cheeks that show his youth and a heavy frown reminiscent of the burden he carries. The more you stare, the more he reminds you of your sister.

“Like the actor?” Taehyung’s brows lift.

It’s takes a moment for the boy to respond, boring eyes into Taehyung. “You’re an idiot.”

His jaw drops and Jimin’s eyes almost bulge out of his sockets. Everyone freezes, gaping at the brutally honest boy. Yoongi snickers out of disbelief. “How old are you?”

“Thirteen.”

Jin’s face twists into distaste. “People like that exist?!”

“Then you're still a brat…” Yoongi muses with a half smirk, cocking his head to the side and his arms crossed. Obviously, he feels a sense of superiority over the boy after learning his young age.

“Excuse me! You’re like more than a decade younger than me!” Jin adds on, rambling at this point, exasperated at the age difference.

“You’re just old.” Jungkook chimes in and Taehyung giggles.

“ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Jin screams, shaking his head and closing his eyes.

“You’re half of fifty.” Namjoon hums and Hoseok’s bright grin is blinding when Jin continues to shout.

“NOOOOOOOOOOO!”

You can’t hide your own laughter but when your peripheral vision catches a flicker, you turn to the adolescent. Though he’s still emotionless, there’s a crinkle of amusement in his eyes and he’s watching the group intently as if you all were clowns and this was his circus.

He seems to notice your gazing and scrunches up his face, sticking out his tongue. Much to his dismay, you laugh at his cute antic and bashful, he suddenly bolts up from his seat. Everyone turns to him, watching as he spurts off but not before stopping abruptly and staring at Yoongi. He blinks twice and Yoongi blinks back. Out of nowhere, the boy kicks Yoongi in the shin and then bolts out of the room.

You all watch in disbelief, stifling back some giggles as Yoongi curses under his breath and glares at everyone.

“MEAL TIME! IT’S MEAL TIME!” The nurse walks up and down the hallway, knocking on all the doors. The way she rounds everyone up, it reminds you of a farmer feeding its cows….lovely.

Another nurse behind her is pushing along a cart but instead of being filled with the usual syringes and medication, it holds trays of food...if you could even call it food. You don’t know what’s worse to be completely frank, the medication or the ‘food’. But when you step into her line of vision, she hands you a tray anyways to which you mumble a ‘thank you’. Jimin who’s behind you, also takes one and when the both of your eyes connect, you simultaneously nod.

Slowly, you begin to tiptoe into the rec room and Jimin follows with a good away distance. According to the new rules, everyone was supposedly suppose to eat alone in their rooms but the rule was quickly disregarded. You all gathered in the rec room to eat together and it was far better that way, far less quiet and far less lonely.

The nurses didn't mind much, not wanting to have to speak to you all more than was necessary and not wishing to dip their hands in your affairs. But everyone still tried to keep a low profile, trying to not draw attention or make them think that you guys were planning something (like destroying the world with your powers, no matter how ridiculous that seems...people are more delusional than you thought).

As you take your seat diagonally to Jimin, the rest slowly flood in, situating themselves in the chairs around the round table.

You grimace as you take off the plastic cover of the tray. You swear that this is punishment for the chaotic ordeal at the cafeteria; when you thought there could be nothing worse than the potato soup, you were very wrong. Now it was some sort of brown mush that took you ages to chew, sticky gum-like texture that scratched your throat every swallow. Whatever it was, you could only deduct that it had beans in them.

On the side, there was a soggy piece of salad and a carton of milk that was somewhat sour, oddly enough.

Just as you're pounding the mush with a spoon, something red catches your eye. “How do you keep getting apples?” You perk up to Jimin with bright eyes.

“I just ask them you know…” He answers in a matter-of-fact tone. Your hand slowly begins to creep up the table, hesitantly looking at him, egging him on with a sly smile. He laughs and your smile grows wider. “Just take it.”

You quickly snag the apple off of his tray before he even finishes speaking. “I get a lot of satisfaction watching you eat it.”

“Here.” You slide your food tray over to him, repulsed with the brown paste. “Trade.” Jimin’s smile instantly falls and he grimaces at his double portions, glaring at you playfully. You laugh but he begins to eat yours anyways.

“Is Joongki not joining us?” You ask when everyone’s gathered and they look around, shaking their heads.

“I don’t know.” Jungkook shrugs his shoulders apathetically, stabbing his wet salad with a fork.

“I’m gonna call him then.” You put your apple down, standing up and marching out the room before anyone can protest.

You find him in the hallway, the nurse handing him the last tray on the cart. They both walk off and his eyes follow their backs, as if unsure of what to do. He glances at his food and is stuck standing like a statue, wondering what he should do and where he should go.

“Hey there!” He jumps startled by your voice and you hook an arm around his shoulder. “Wanna join us in the rec room? Everyone’s eating there right now.”

He turns you with an unwavering gaze. “Why should I?”

“Because it’s fun!” You answer as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. You pull him along as he frowns, exhausted with your energy and aware you won't take no as an answer.

You drag him into the room and when you let go, he follows from behind, taking a seat awkwardly next to you. The atmosphere is tense, slightly heavy as everyone is watching the mysterious boy and he can feel their stares, stiffly staring at his lap.

But then his eyes wander to the red fruit on the table. “You.” He calls out and you turn to him, following where his finger is pointing to. “Are you eating that?”

“Want it?” You ask, holding the apple with your hand.

“Yes.” He answers shortly and honestly. But without waiting for a response, he steals it from your palm.

Yoongi shift uncomfortably, eyes narrowing into the skin of the boy. “Don't you know that you're suppose to speak formally to people older than you? No one taught you any manners?”

“Yoongi, it’s fine.” You turn to him and upon hearing your response, Joongki sticks his tongue out, mocking while cocking his head to the side. Yoongi scoffs out of disbelief, rolling his eyes.

Joongki takes a bite of the apple and you watch with anticipation. But as he chews, he suddenly stops and then in one motion, he spits it out. It goes flying across the table, almost landing in Hoseok’s tray but Hoseok screeches and moves his tray swiftly. “Ew. This is disgusting.”

Jin freezes as the words leave the lips of the young boy. Jimin instantly feels the crash of emotion and glances at Jin. “How can they give us shit like this?” Joongki suddenly stands up.

“Are you not eating?” You ask.

“No. Fuck this.” The boy curses and then proceeds to throw the apple on the table, kicking his chair, shoving his hands into his pocket and then marching out of the room. Everyone watches baffled but you're more so amused.

There's an unsettling silence in the air, everyone picking at their food and forcing it down their throats. Jungkook is the first to speak up, breaking the quiet after minutes. “I’m not very fond of him.”

“He’s a brat.” Yoongi snaps back almost immediately.

Jimin twiddled his fingers nervously in his lap, trying to push away the feelings of irritation that creep on his shoulders that are not his. “But he’s just a kid.”

“That's not a good enough excuse.” Yoongi scoffs again with a frown.

Jin hums in agreement, swirling his mush with a spoon. “He wasted perfectly good food.” He says bitterly, staring at the crushed apple and sighing.

Taehyung grins. “It was so funny how he kicked Yoongi earlier.”

Jin suddenly puts down his spoon, eyes big suddenly as if he remembered something. “When I first saw him, he looked at me and called me ugly!....HOW IS THAT EVEN POSSIBLE WITH THIS FACE?!!?!?”

Jin’s hand frantically motions his entire head and Hoseok laughs. “Don’t worry. He did the same with me.”

Then it’s Namjoon who begins to whine. “He called me stupid looking and thought I was forty years old….he asked what a grandpa was doing here….forty years old.” He sighs defeatedly and you, Hoseok and the youngest trio laugh. “I’M STILL IN MY TWENTIES!”

Yoongi still shakes his head, the humour not reaching him. “I don't like him...not at all. Kid gets on my nerves.”

You grin at the irony, speaking lightly with a hum. “He’s defiant….doesn't that remind you of a certain someone?” You eye Yoongi closely and he halts his jaw, chewing the same mouthful of mush for the past five minutes.

“But I'm not rude.”

“Well….” You lean back in your chair, stretching your limbs before putting your arms behind your head. “He’s honest...and it's refreshing.” With a breath, you sit up and snag the milk carton off your tray.

“Aren't we all sick and tired of lies anyways?”

Everyone stops and stares at you, wondering how you can speak so lightly about a topic that’s so entirely grim. Lies, lies. It's always been lies. You've been taken from your home, trapped against your will, imprisoned, quiet concealment and being promised of release, promised that the burden would be lifted. But here you were….here they were.

You open the carton of milk with ease, bringing it to your lips while wincing at the sour, gooey texture.

You find Joongki sitting on a bench out in the hallway, shuffling a deck of cards. He begins to chuck them, seeing how far they can go while not minding the huge mess he was making.

“What ‘cha doing?” You call out in a sing song voice and he swivels his head over, startled.

After a moment, he gains composure and focuses back on his game. “Can't you see? Or are you blind?”

You laugh at his snarky rhetorical question, plopping down next to him. “Fun game.”

“It's boring.” He huffs out tiredly, still throwing cards. “Why is this place so damn boring?”

“Hm. Really? I don't think so.” He turns to you with a frown and you tilt your head at him. “The people here are pretty interesting….so it's not boring.”

He stares at you for a long moment and you stare back but more intently, an unwavering gaze that doesn't shake, doesn't lie. Suddenly he bolts his head away, embarrassed and the tips of his ears red. “You're strange.” He mumbles out and you laugh.

“Am I?”

“And mysterious….you're honest but it feels like you're hiding something.”

“Well aren't you sharp?” You grin at him, ruffling his hair gently to which he grumbles at and then slaps your hand away.

Joongki, walking down the hallway, quickly notices Yoongi who doesn't even spare him a glance. He opens his mouth to say something but then Yoongi brushes past him. He sighs defeated and turns to be on his way but then your words ring inside his head.

“Hey….” Yoongi continues walking, ignoring the boy who’s following behind him. Joongki screams louder. “HEY!”

“What?” Yoongi turns on his heel.

Joongki blinks twice before speaking again, surprised that he answered him. “So...you make people fall asleep whenever?”

Yoongi narrows his eyes in suspicion. “How’d you know that?”

“Read the nurse’s report.” He answers proudly with a smirk and Yoongi scoffs.

“What do you want from me?”

“Prove it.”

“What?” Yoongi frowns, creases forming between his brows. “Why do I need to prove it to you brat?”

“Cause I wanna see it.” He answers as if it were obvious.

There was a risk, a strict law that carried heavy consequences.

If the nurses or (god-forbid) doctors caught anyone using their powers intentionally, they'd be detained for several days and some wouldn't even return. It was fear and rumours that clouded everyone, chained them into the building and kept them from breaking free. But it was because the doctors, nurses lived in a worser fear, afraid that these supernatural humans would kill them.

“Why? You scared?~” Joongki cocks an eyebrow up, egging him on. Yoongi scoffs and he doesn't know why he answers the way he does but he's never been much a goody-two-shoes before, rules were just guidelines after all.

“Fine….let’s do it.”

Joongki almost lets a happy giggle slip his lips but he grins instead.

The two walk closely together, quiet steps as if burglars in an unknown house. They make their way to the rec room and Yoongi’s eyes land on Jimin who’s unsuspecting, turned away in a chair, facing the barred window and reading some sort of novel.

“Watch and learn.” Yoongi whispers quietly and then brings up his hand forward. In one motion, he snaps his finger and the sound rings, echoes and fires straight through Jimin’s skin.

In an instant, the novel hits the ground and Jimin’s shoulders slump, lost in a heavy slumber. “Woah…..” Joongki turns to him with bright eyes and Yoongi crosses his arms smugly.

“What are you two up to?” The two boys both jump in surprise at your sudden appearance, a few meters away from them with a questioning expression. “Are you creating trouble?”

They both freeze, twisting their heads around as if they got caught stealing. “Uhhhh...ummm....do it to her...” Joongki whispers, pulling on Yoongi’s sleeve.

“Do what to me?” You ask curiously, catching his words.

And Yoongi complies to Joongki’s request, a mischievous glint in his eyes that you're surprised to see, never having witnessed before. You cock your head to the side, staring at him, soaking in the image and he doesn't notice, bringing up his hand instead.

In one motion, Yoongi snaps his finger and the sound rings, echoing and fires at your skin but somehow….it bounces right off.

“What?” Yoongi snaps his fingers again. And again.

“What are you doing?” Now you ask a little less curious and more so annoyed at how he just keeps snapping his fingers at your face.

Yoongi snaps his finger one last time before bringing his arm down. “That’s….so strange.”

The sound of his snaps ring, echoes but they all ricochet, never hitting you.

“Woah…..so you can make people angry?” Joongki’s leaning over the table, practically sprawled on it as he leans forward to Jungkook.

“Uh...sorta.” Jungkook bends backwards, trying to avoid the face of the boy but still smiling anyhow.

“I watched that fight..in the cafeteria...I was there.” Joongki’s eyes flash over, as if so entirely intrigued with Jungkook and Jimin watches with amusement.

Jimin is still exhausted, sickly tired and still confused as to why he was suddenly knocked out for a few hours. Somehow he thinks it might be related to Yoongi…....

“So you're like the hulk?” Joongki asks again with a grin, leaning away from Jungkook and flexing his non-existent muscles. “UGHAAAHHHHH!” He screams as if he were making a transformation.

Jungkook laughs, genuinely for the first time in a while.

“You're like…..super cool…..I like you.” Joongki speaks, his lips slipping and then he turns away embarrassed.

Jungkook smiles. “Thanks.”

When you finally twist in bed the next morning, you're surprised not to hear Yoongi grumbling. Fluttering an eye open and turning your head around, he’s gone.

“What...the...”

“ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” The loud ruckus reverberates down the hallway and your feet find its way into the rec room.

Joongki has his arms wrapped around Jungkook’s neck, latching onto his back as Jungkook spins around in a supersonic speed. “ARGHHHHH!” Jungkook grunts out, spinning faster as Joongki continues laughing, feet flying and hitting Yoongi in the knee.

Yoongi winces in pain. “HEY!”

Taehyung is pouting at the sidelines, trying to run in but not get hit by the helicopter that is Joongki. “Let me play! I want to join!”

Jimin is beside Taehyung with the same glint in his eyes, a burning desire to be a part of the fun. Namjoon and Hoseok are watching, clapping and laughing. Meanwhile, Jin is scolding them, afraid that his brown-mush food is going to get kicked into the air. “Hey! This is dangerous!”

“I want to play too.” You chime in and everyone freezes, swiveling their heads at the doorway where you’re standing.

Joongki jumps off of Jungkook’s back, relieving him of the heavy weight. “You should stop appearing out of nowhere.”

You pout. “Can I want to play too?…”

“I’m going to die if I have to lift you.” Jungkook sighs out with sweat dripping from his hair.

“HEY!!” You shout at him with the point of your finger. “You calling me fat?! Wanna fight?!”

Taehyung seizes the moment as Jungkook’s distracted and jumps on his back. “Meeee too!!!”

Without being able to answer you, Jungkook instantly collapses onto the floor as if he were a paper doll, Taehyung flops on top of him and everyone erupts with laughter.

When it’s time to eat again, everyone’s rounded at the table with their trays of food. This time you have your own apple, not needing to steal off of Jimin; you had ran to the nurse and she instant;y winced away, cowering in fear but when you just asked for an apple, she opened her eyes again and slowly nodded.

“Taehyung…” Joongki speaks with a glimmer of curiosity in his eyes.

“Hm?”

“Your power?”

“What?”

“What do you do?” Joongki reiterates, holding up his hands and flipping them over. Taehyung seems to understand that and makes a sound of acknowledgement.

“Ah….Animals.” Taehyung manages a small smile. “I can hear them talk….”

Joongki stares for a moment before turning his head back to his food. “That’s cool.”

Taehyung huffs out a breath and you don’t miss the bitterness in his smile. “They’re a lot meaner than we think….”

“Hm...interesting.” Joongki turns to you this time, a deep gaze burning your skin. “What’s yours?”

“My power?” You cock your head to the side with a grin. “Well, I’m glad you asked...it means you care a little about me right?” You flash a wink and he scoffs, face flushing for a moment.

“What is it?”

You hum for a moment, as if contemplating an answer. “I bloom flowers….kinda lame, right?”

Joongki stares at you, as if really soaking every feature that is you and then he inhales a deep breath, still lost in thought. “...I don’t think that’s all….”

You smile at that, quickly shifting the attention back to him. “What’s yours? It’s only fair since you asked all of us.”

He finally looks away from you, eyes redirected towards an empty spot on the table. “....I can detect if someone’s lying or not….” He yawns as if it was an everyday, light conversation. “But I can’t tell lies.”

“Oh...well, honesty is the best policy, right?”

He glowers, slumping in his seat while biting back bitterness in his sharp words. “But sometimes people don’t want honesties.”

“But not everyone can be honest…” Namjoon says, hands interlaced together with a thoughtful expression. “...telling lies are easy, anyone can do it. Honesties are harder. In many ways...you’re free from webs and burdens that lies carry.”

Everyone broods over Namjoon’s intelligent words, silence falls over your shoulders as you ponder deeper, lost in a trance until Yoongi breaks it.

“I personally never liked sugar coated things.”

“Wait.” Jin interrupts, bolting his head towards Joongki. “...does that mean you really think my face is ugly?”

“Yes.”

“HOW IS THAT EVEN POSSIBLE!” Jin shrieks out, mouth dropping and everyone grins. “Do you know how many roses I used to receive on Valentine's Day?! And I went to an all boys high school. ALL BOYS!”

“Used to.” Joongki smirks as everyone’s laughing. “You said used to!”

Jin opens his mouth, absolutely baffled and speechless. You reach over, patting his back in comfort while trying to speak over your giggles. “Don’t worry Jin...you’re handsome to me.”

Jin frowns, still unsatisfied. “I can’t believe I’m being bullied by someone half my age.”

Just about as the laughter begins to die down, a lightbulb flickers inside your head. “Ah, Joongki! I completely forgot about the tradition!”

“Tradition?”

“Yeah, whenever someone’s new around here, they have to participate in an eating contest!” Everyone turns to you inquisitively but no one interrupts with your bright smile.

“Wait..eating this shit?” He takes a spoonful and tries to shake it off, proving his point of how disgusting it is but the mush stays glued to his spoon instead.

“Yeah. I had to do it when I came but unfortunately I lost. Even Jin participated and he lost.”

“Who’s the champion then?”

“Jungkook.” Upon hearing that name Joongki swivels his head over to the boy called with bright eyes.

“No...no, I’m not doing that again.” Jungkook waves out his hand. “Last time it was potato soup so at least I could swallow it easier. Now it’s scratchy beans.”

“Aw, c’mon Kook.” Hoseok chimes in with a giggle and the rest join in.

Soon everyone’s counting down as the two hold their spoons tightly in hand. As you shout ‘zero!’, they shoot off into a spurt of stuffing their mouths. Every so often, Joongki glances up at Jungkook to see where he’s at before rushing downwards again. The two are so neck in neck, fueled solely through competitiveness that everyone is hitching their breaths, darting eyes back and forth in anticipation.

Just at the two minute mark, they’re shoving the last spoonful in their mouths, chewing furiously. “Done!” They both call simultaneously, raising their hands.

“Woah...they finished at the same time!” Jimin grins in amazement.

“It’s a tie!” You declare out.

“No! I definitely called out first!” Joongki stammers out, throwing down his spoon.

“Nope. Jungkook definitely finished first.” Yoongi pipes up, teasing the boy.

“No!” Joongki’s jaw drops and the two of them bicker back and forth, banters filling the table. Jungkook’s still out of breath, lips swollen from spoon shoving and Taehyung laughs, hitting his back painfully hard.

Jin turns to you with a smile, looking into your crinkled eyes, reading your mind. This is nice.

But as he hears your thoughts, his own releases into the world as if he spoke with his voice but his lips are sealed. We’re like family.

You turn to Jin with an even brighter smile and you couldn’t agree more.

We are family.

Joongki becomes an important member of the group, a pillar that you can’t see without. He follows Jungkook like a shadow and even though he’d never admit it, you’d like to think he looks up to Jungkook like a role model, an idol and an aspiration to become. He and Yoongi on the other hand, are always teasing each other, endless banters that always hurt Jin’s head. But the teasing is playful and it reminds you of a brotherly relationship and the spite that was once present, completely vanishes.

Jimin is the first on the victim list, subjected to Joongki’s pestering and snarky remarks. You’d like to think that Jimin is far too kind, easily taking in the kid’s torment with a soft laugh. Hoseok is second on the victim list, Namjoon the third and Jin the fourth. Ironically, the only person that seems to annoy Joongki himself is Taehyung who constantly chases him around, trying to play games and gain Joongki’s affections.

When Taehyung becomes too much, the ‘victims’ begin to fight back, Jin starts on a tangent of nagging or Yoongi begins scolding, Joongki always runs behind you for protection. Without fail, you always defend the boy and then he sticks out his tongue from behind you, as if you are an unbreakable shield.

And things are good.

But good things never last...

At least not in a place like this.

“Why are you so nice to me?” He asks you one evening after dinner and you’ve showered. The both of you are sitting alone together on a bench outside the hallway, near the empty reception area. The quiet simmers around you peacefully, comfortable and warm. “I heard your conversation...I didn’t mean to eavesdrop but you were defending me.

He turns to you emotionless but eyes soft. “At least, at the very beginning...everyone hated my guts, except for you.”

“Well, I never said you weren’t a brat.” You tease him. “...but you kind of remind me of my sister.”

“Sister?”

“Yeah, she’s the same age as you...of course not as disobedient but still…”

“Y/N.”

“Hmm?”

“You...your powers…” He says carefully as if treading on top of an unwoken monster. “There’s more to it, right?” You smile gently, letting him know that you won’t be upset or angry. “Can you be honest with me?”

“I never said I wouldn’t.”

When Joongki parts his lips and his vocal chords rumble, words escape his lips and he is honest when he speaks. He unveils your secret in a single statement, in a few syllables that you’ve kept hidden for so long in fear of what they would do to you. They as in the authorities, the nurses, the doctors that all feed you endless lies.

But when Joongki speaks your secret, you smile. “...Right?” He asks for confirmation, wondering if his theory is wrong.

“Hmmm….” You hum out to him. “You’re pretty smart for a brat, aren’t you? You little genius.” You ruffle his hair tenderly and he faintly peels it off after a quiet moment.

“Joongki.” He turns to you with eyes that are slightly glossed over. “...do you want to see it?”

“Yes.” He answers without hesitation, straightforward and sincerely. But then he closes his eyes, pursing his lips as if in deep pain, loathing himself for letting his honesty slip, cursing his burden.

“But, I don’t want to leave you guys.” His voice gets softer with each word. “...you’re my family now.”

You huff out a light laugh. “You’re silly. There’s so much out there….the entire world…” You stare at the ceiling, clutching the edge of the bench tightly. “...more than this building...more than us….freedom. Don’t you miss it?” You sigh and he bites his lips, forcing himself to not answer.

“....and this doesn’t mean it’ll be the end...you’ll see us again. We’ll meet up and all crash at Yoongi’s house.” You nudge him playfully and he grins at the idea. “All nine of us can live together, annoying and leeching off of him.”

The idea sparks daydreams between the both of you, smiling and lost in ‘what if’s’. But they're just dreams and Joongki’s face quickly falls. “This level….we-we can’t be cured.”

“But there’s me.” You answer, swallowing past the painful lump in your throat. “You can’t lie, Joongki. I know you want freedom...no matter how happy we may be in here...we’re still trapped.”

The young boy tries to swallow back the honest answers but it crawls up his throat, strangling him and threatens his tongue. He hitches a breath, closing his eyes in deep agony but he bites down on his cheek, refusing to say anything. He so badly wants to say ‘I’m happy with you all here’, ‘it’s enough for me’, ‘I want to stay’, but he cannot lie.

“Just promise me one thing.” You shatter the silence and he flutters his eyes open, staring straight into your soul.

He speaks barely in a murmur. “What?”

“That you’ll live well….happily, for all of us….for me…”

“Is this the end?” He asks and you shake your head.

“No. It’s not.”

“Then...I promise.”

You take his hands, placing them in yours gently and closing them. Shutting your eyes, you concentrate on where your hands are and the presence of the boy. Your skin tingles, goosebumps rising as it begins to heat up. In a flicker of a second, a sharp pain shoots up from your hands, running up your spine and firing straight into your skull.

A strangled cry escapes your lips no matter how hard your teeth are clenched together. Your muscles strain and your limbs are numb, as if your skin has all melted off and the bones are about to shatter, being compressed. Your heart stops beating.

A bright light floods into the back of your eyeballs and you yelp, keeping back an agonizing scream. You can feel your body begin to fall backwards but you keep upright out of pure will and your hands glow. It burns, as if fire is igniting to where his hands are and you desperately want to pull back but you keep it still.

Inhaling a sharp breath, you flicker your eyes open as your vision returns, the sad reality dawning again. A dull, constant and never-ending pain settles all around you. And your heart begins to pump again.

When Joongki leaves, everyone but you is completely baffled, bewildered and believing that it’s some sort of sick joke.

All he does is burst into the rec room where everyone’s situated, wearing a jacket and a pair jeans, presumably what he came in. He’s out of the horrid army green, prisoner-like attire and looks instantly a thousand times better; normal and you're almost envious.

“Losers!” He calls out to you all while sticking out his tongue. “I’m cured!” He declares shortly and proudly.

He runs to Yoongi and sends a flying kick to his shin. Yoongi’s too frozen to react, a delayed ‘ow’ and a ‘what?!!’ falling from his lips a few seconds too short. But Joongki then reaches over and gives a fleeting hug to Yoongi.

After a second, the boy marches to Jungkook and hesitates for a moment before boldly hugging him, squeezing him tightly while burying his face in Jungkook’s shirt.

Jungkook is still confused, slowly patting the boy’s back with a dazed expression. After a good moment, Joongki lets go with his cheeks completely flushing.

Joongki then turns to you next, swallowing hard. The both of you stare at each other for a long moment and he bows his head, eternally grateful. You smile tenderly, lifting a hand out and ruffling his hair. He mutters a soft ‘goodbye’ that you repeat and then he turns to the rest of you all.

He grins brightly, the brightest you’ve ever seen on him before. He soaks in the image of you all, standing and sitting around the room wearing the most confused expressions. He glances at you one last time before turning on his heel. “See you later suckers!”

When the others eventually ask you how it was possible or what had happened, you simply shrugged. But you have to bite back the honest answers that crawl up your throat, threatening your tongue.

And when the boy is gone, it is emptier, a little less lively but you still feel like you’ve set a bird free from it’s cage; even though now that cage has become yet another anchor on your shoulders.

#bts scenarios #bts ot7 #bts ot7 fanfic #bts fanfic #bts ot7 angst #Personally one of my more favourite chapters!

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