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dreamingofep · 8 months

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Sinned Awakening pt. 4

An AU Elvis fic

(Vampire!Elvis/Vampire Austin!Elvis × reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Request: No

Prompt: Getting promoted to be Elvis full time housekeeper, you realize the man holds secrets beyond belief and your undeniable attraction makes you fear the unknown. Fem!Reader]

TW: Cussing, tension, angst, SMUT, cheating, fingering, the usual dirty stuff

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 4.4K

A/N: Hello everyone!

Welcome to part 4! The spicy stuff is here and it’s here to stay🤭 I hope you enjoy all this and can't wait to keep building this relationship and the secrets that lie beneath it. Please let me know what you think in the comments or send me a message!

Thank you again!

Sorry for any spelling mistakes and overall goofs.🖤

The bag of ice burns into your neck making you wince and huff out a frustrated groan. You did this to yourself. There was no one else to blame. Well, maybe Elvis. You could blame Elvis for doing this to you but begged him to do all of it you. Every last thing. Now you’ll never be able to look at a piano the same without picturing Elvis eating you out on top of it.

All last night you kept replaying the events in your head, how you have never felt so satisfied and wish you could somehow reenact those feelings he gave you.

There was one way you could…

No. Absolutely not. This was a one-time thing and you just have to live with the memories.

You managed to avoid Daniel and he never saw you walk in the door with the huge bandage plastered across your neck. You couldn’t go to sleep right away and tossed and turned for hours it seemed. The shame didn’t wrack through you like you thought it would, it was quite the opposite. There was something so addictive about him. About being close to him and when he was fucking you, there was no word to describe how it felt.

Looking in the mirror, you inspect how your bruise is looking. After icing it all night and a bit this morning, the swelling went down and the purple coloring was much less prominent and diluted. It still showed and you thought putting another bandage on would make it even more noticeable than it already was. You decided to dab some makeup on it and hope no one asks any questions about it.

Getting to work, the locker room is empty thankfully and you get your uniform on and stock up on some cleaning supplies that aren’t in your cart. The ticking of the clock rings in your ears as you wait for the minute hand to hit the twelve-clock mark, making it three pm.

The familiar ring fills the room and you eagerly pick up the phone.

“Housekeeping, this is y/n,” you say happily.

“Mr. Presley wishes to see you.” The click of the receiver doesn’t surprise you and you make your way to the elevator with your cleaning cart.

This trip to the penthouse made your stomach have butterflies, making your heart beat wildly at the anticipation of just seeing him. You really don’t know what to talk to him about when you get up there though. Are you two just going to act normal and act like the events that transpired last night never happened? That was a lot to just suddenly ignore.

You walk past the men in the hallway and they keep their heads down, standing there like statues as they always did. Pushing the double doors, you walk into the suite and get greeted by those dark blue eyes. He takes your breath away, the second you step foot into his space, you just want to collapse into his arms and do what he wants.

You take a deep breath before speaking, “Hello, Mr. Presley,” You say softly.

He smirks, amused by your candor, “Hi honey, you can call me Elvis if you’d like,” he says sweetly. You smile looking down at your feet, not wanting him to see that his charm is working.

“Thank you, Elvis. Where would you like me to start?” you say shyly.

He stares at you and doesn’t look away.

“I didn��t really call you up here to clean honey,” he says gruffly.

“Umm, Mr. Presley I really should do something that pertains to my job…” you say a bit intimidated by his tone and presence.

“Fine. You can take the trash out of all the bathrooms first,” he says courtly, his face showing amusement as you are trying to stay as far away from him.

You nod your head and go to the guest bathrooms and get everything in order. When you turn around to grab something from your cleaning cart, Elvis is behind you.

“Mr… I mean Elvis you’re really going to have to stop sneaking up on me, you’re going to scare me off,” you tease.

“Hmm, I don’t think much scares you but I hear you loud and clear,” he winks at you, making you blush.

You head back to the living room and it’s almost in perfect condition, leaving you surprised he called you up here again.

“Not having that many crazy parties hmm?” You ask him jokingly.

“Haven’t had many people over. Being a recluse and all as you say,” he quips. You can’t help but laugh at the little dig he made.

“Well I guess you need some more friends then Mr. Presley,” you tease.

“It seems you’ve been my only company lately,” he says slyly.

Your cheeks continue to burn and you can’t help but wonder what he thinks about all of this.

“Well I’m very sorry for that,” you tease.

“No please, don’t ever be sorry. I much rather have you around,” You glanced up at him as he has that familiar twinkle in his eye, making you look anywhere else.

“Did you sleep okay last night?” he asks.

“Uh, yea I slept fine, did you sleep okay?” You ask, feeling uneasy to talk to him so freely like this.

“No not really but I’m fine. I don’t need much sleep,” he says cheekily.

You try to scurry away from this awkward small talk and act like he wasn't stuffing you to the hilt with his cock last night.

Jesus, focus.

You check in the little half bath that’s by the front door and fold some hand towels for any guests he might have. Looking up in the mirror, you see Elvis behind you again, having a devious look on his face. You jump and turn around to face him.

“I still make you nervous? Even after everything I did to you last night,” he insinuates

Your cheeks flush and you feel your heart dance wildly.

“Well, I don’t know who can ever get used to being so close to you Elvis. But I guess even after everything that transpired… you still make me feel on edge.”

He steps toward you and you fight the urge to step away like you always do.

“Mhmm, good,” he murmurs darkly. “I don’t want you to get too comfortable,” he grumbles as he looks at you in the mirror, his hands on your shoulders to turn you back around to face the mirror. His body pushes up against your small frame and you both let out a soft moan when feeling each other like this.

He places a soft kiss on your neck, making chills run down your body. His lips feel cold yet so soft and plump, you could let him kiss your neck for hours if he wanted.

“And if I do get… comfortable… then what?” You ask in an airy manner.

“Then I would have to put you back in your place,” He says low.

“And where’s that? On top of the piano?” You insinuate. He bites the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling and nods his head at you.

“Mhmm… that’s one way,” he trails off, his hands finding your hips and squeezing them. You involuntarily push your body back into his rigid frame and let out a slow exhale.

“There are so many rooms we can use tho. I was thinking more of a way to get you to listen to me and not be so obstinate,” he alludes. Your body felt like it was on fire again having him pressed against you. Your breathing became shallow and the more you breathed in, the more you took in his delicious scent.

“That’s going to be a challenge, I don’t think you know me very well, I’m very difficult,”

His hands trail down the front of your body, scrunching up the material of your skirt to expose your panties.

“I think I can find a way to… persuade you,” he notes.

You look at him in the mirror drunk on you already and feel your arousal begin to form. He smirks down at you, almost like he can feel your slick forming because of him, and continues to kiss your neck. You try to break away from him but it feels impossible, looking in those mesmerizing eyes that suck you in every time.

His fingers find your sensitive bud and he starts to rub slow circles there, watching as your head falls back onto his chest.

Your breathing becomes labored and you try to swallow the moans you want to let free. You feel him press his cock into your ass and the soft groan he gives when he does that sends throbs to your core.

He works you like he’s known you your entire life, giving you exactly what you want before uttering a word.

He picks up one of your legs and bends it at your knee, placing it on the counter and stretching it out before you, giving him a better view of your soaked panties.

His lips feel like fire on your skin, making you want more of him and have your body more on edge. You watch as his fingers pull your panties to the side, letting the cool air hit your core and leaving you panting for more from him. Watching in the reflection his cold, long fingers spread your lower lips apart, you see how he exposes your weeping core to him in the mirror and watches his face looking at you hungrily, hearing him groan in your ear.

“Fuck baby look at yourself, this kitty needs so much attention hmm,” he asks sensually.

You can’t help but moan at his words and you shut your eyes closed, so sexually frustrated.

“God fuck please, I should probably… leave you alone,” you moan quietly, the sound of his dirty words making you wetter by the second.

He cocks his head at you, examining you carefully before speaking.

“Is that really what you want honey? Or do you want me to take care of that needy pussy.” He groans in your ear.

“Elvis I, I can’t. I shouldn’t,” you pant.

He looks amused at you like he knows that’s actually all you want. You want him to fulfill this newfound need for him that he created. This undeniable need for him to please you for hours. You feel his finger tease your entrance, rubbing there before pushing it inside you. You cry out to him, feeling the pleasure run through you the second he’s inside you.

You watch in the mirror how his finger curls inside you and is covered in your arousal when he pulls it out of you. His other hand glides over your chest and into your shirt, unbuttoning it to show your breasts in your plain white bra. He squeezes your breasts and watches as your face begs for more. The way he’d touch you was all too much yet not enough. You wished you could wrangle this need you have for him but nothing will do. He’s created a monster and you’re more than okay with it.

“Elvissss,” you moan, looking at him in the mirror.

“What honey, tell me what you need. Don’t need to fight what you want,” he coos.

You are breathless at this point and can’t believe he has you like this. This needy, whimpering mess in his bathroom.

“Fuck me. Please, fuck me,” you groan breathlessly. He gives you a sly look in the mirror as he enters another finger inside of you making you buck your hips.

“By the looks of it, I’m already fucking you darlin’. What more do you want?” He growls deviously. You cry out loudly as he moves his fingers faster in and out of you, making wet, sloppy noises come out of your core. You keep crying for him to give you what you want but he doesn’t listen. He’s a master at teasing and keeping you right on the edge. His fingers weren’t nearly enough and wanted to be fucked with something much bigger.

“Please, no more teasing,” you beg.

He chuckles and smiles at you in the mirror, “I’m just doing what you asked honey. You’ll have to be more specific,” he spats.

Your hand reaches around and finds his straining cock in his pants. You carefully watch his face as you rub him through his pants. How it turns from smug to pleasure in just one motion.

“I need this, please. Don’t tease me anymore,” you plead. He grins at you in delight, finally hearing the words he’s been waiting for. He pulls his fingers out of you and puts them to his mouth, licking them clean. You take your leg off the counter and turn around to face him, lust reading through him again. He placed his hand around your neck, squeezing lightly as you release a soft moan. His eyes get drawn to the side of your neck that you tried to cover up with makeup but his keen eyes noticed the splotchy spot.

He groans as his index finger traces the spot he left, “I’m sorry about this, I couldn’t help myself,” he snickers.

“You were really trying to take a bite out of me hmm?” You joke

“You have no idea how much I’d love that,” he growls darkly. His mouth is back on your neck and sucking on the same spot he did before. You moan and push yourself more into his body. This bruise was never going to heal if you kept this up. You gasp at the urgency he has in his body, how he really feels like he is trying to take a bite out of you. You thought your need for him was insatiable, you think somehow his is even worse. He suddenly stops and picks you up, wrapping your legs around his torso.

He carries you to the bedroom where it’s low-lit once again and he has a few candles on. Your heart beats wildly and wait for him to make the next move. He sets you down and he casually walks to the window sill.

Your eyes linger on him, wanting him to break the tension in the room but he doesn’t budge. You’re so tempted to just walk out now while you still have your dignity and clothes left intact. You glance back at the door that he left cracked open but the booming of his voice gets your attention.

“You still being difficult hmm? Then I’m going to be difficult too” He says gruffly.

“Come here.”

The throbbing in your core continues and his eyes pull you in.

You walk over to him carefully and step in between his legs, looking up at him nervously.

“This is dangerous,” you whisper.

He glided his hand up your thigh, making you inhale sharply.

“Yes, I know. But that’s not going to stop you,”

His hands then move to the inside of your legs, feeling the soft flesh there, then zipping the skirt and pulling it down off your hips. He undoes the last remaining buttons on your shirt and flings it to the side, watching as it flutters to the ground in a crumpled fashion.

“I shouldn’t like it this much… the way you make me feel good,” you say a bit breathlessly, knowing that you need him more than you realize.

“I know honey, but don’t fight it, let me keep making you feel good. You have no idea how much I love being inside you,” he groans. Your heart thumps and your breathing is hitching with every salacious word he throws at you.

“Please make me feel good again. But this has to be the last time,” you say to assure yourself more than him.

A smile forms on his face and his fingers cup your pussy, rubbing his fingers through your sopping wet folds.

“I can do that for you honey, you feel nice and ready for me,” he teases, “I don’t like that last part though,” he growls. He grabs one of your legs and wraps it around his hip, slithering his hand down to your throbbing bud. He looks up at you in awe, so infatuated with every sound you make as your hips grind into his fingers. You feel him spreading your wetness that is now spilling onto the side of your thigh and rolling down. His fingers find it and he slides it up, bringing that finger to his mouth and licking it.

A moany cry comes out of you and you keep begging for him.

“Fuck baby you need it this bad huh?”

You nod your head profusely wanting him so bad. You don’t want to waste any more time and take your bra and panties off in one quick motion, needing his skin to touch you without any barriers.

“Yes, Elvis. Please,” you moan.

You were a moth to the flame and there was no escaping Elvis. He was just what you wanted and something about him made you feel whole. Something you haven’t had in the longest time.

As wrong as this all was, maybe it was the time to make a rational decision about being with Daniel. Was this an act of pure lust or was there something more…

None of that mattered now as he squeezes your hips and turns you around, your hands against the cold window bracing yourself for what he was going to give you.

“What are you doing?” You say surprised by his sudden forcefulness.

“Making you listen,” he hisses.

His tip rubs through your folds, causing an agonizing sensation through you having been teased for far too long. He doesn’t care, he’s in control and will keep waiting for as long as you can take it. Your whimpers escalate and you try to push your hips back into his length to get some kind of relief.

Suddenly you feel his hand wrap your hair in a tight grip and pulls it back, making you gasp with how rough he’s being.

“Here’s what’s going to happen, honey, I’ll fuck you, but I don’t want you leaving after. I have to show you more ways of how I can please you,” he says darkly.

“Elvis, I-I-I can’t stay here for long. I don’t want people getting suspicious,” you hiss over your shoulder at him. He yanks your hair again, making you cry out.

“What are they going to get suspicious about? That you come up here and beg for my cock and get no cleaning done hmm?,” He growls in your ear. Chills rush through your body and you freeze, obeying his orders whether you like it or not.

Before you know it, you feel his long length plunge into your wet heat, filling you so quickly and powerfully. You cry out his name, overwhelmed by the forcefulness. His grunts fill the room and the grip he has on your hips is tight, you’re sure that this is going to leave bruises there too.

“Ahh, Elvis,” you mewl.

His hips move faster and your breathing hitched every time you feel him get deeper inside of you.

“What honey, you can’t take this cock after begging me for it? You want me to stop,” He spats darkly, pulling his length completely out of you. You gasp, wanting him to fill you again and stop playing this game of his.

“Ah, no, please. I want you,” you beg.

He plunges his length back inside you, stuffing you to the hilt making both of you groan loudly.

“Good that’s what I thought,” he says snidely, “Tell me you’ll stay longer,” he groans with a snap of his hips making you gasp.

“N-no, I can’t,” you whimper out. His hand wraps around your throat, holding it there making you groan.

“Then I’ll stop fucking you, is that what you want?” He growls.

You’re completely at his mercy now but you’re more than okay with it. Your moans grow louder the harder he snaps his hips into you.

“No please, I-I-I’ll stay,” you manage to squeak out.

“Mhmm, such a good girl,” he growls.

The way he moves his hips is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. The way he can make you completely surrender to his every last breath.

You squeeze your eyes shut as you try to adjust to how he’s taking you. The way he’s handling you is different than last time. Yesterday he wanted to discover you, take his time and make you feel things you’ve never felt before but now, he’s fucking you like his life depends on it. Like he’s been dying for this.

You feel him quickly pull out of you and turn you around. Looking up into his eyes with shock and bewilderment, you see the dark bluish-grey pools there where the ones icy blue ones were. He must notice your stares as he looks down at your body.

“Are you okay? Your eyes are so dark,” you ask shakily.

“Don’t worry about that baby I’m better than okay right now,” he says quickly as he picks you up and rests you on the window sill ledge. The cold glass hits your back and you visibly shiver as you look at him with hunger in his eyes.

“Fuck,” he moans. He goes straight for your neck and sucks there, groaning and breathing in deeply as he does this. It feels so dangerous the way he possessively sucks at your neck, like he’s trying to mark you or something. Another part of you likes it, like he should be sucking on your neck for the whole world to see that you belong to him.

Oh god no. No, it can’t go that far. This is just sex it doesn’t mean anything more than that.

With a grunt, he’s back inside you and filling you so completely. This position feels more intense as you are both at eye level with each other and feel the rise and fall of your chests. You can’t hold on for much longer as he rubs your clit with his thumb and coaxes you to reach your orgasm.

“Yes, honey you feel so good. Taking my cock so well,” he coos in your ear. You shut your eyes and groan at him, angry at yourself for liking everything he ever says to you.

Your walls flutter around his length and he grins at you, grinding his hips into your faster to get you closer to your release. You keep your eyes shut, trying to savor these feelings he’s giving you but your focus gets snapped away as you feel his hand on your jaw. He kisses you passionately, attacking your lips with his and your tongues swirl against each other. He breaks the kiss and looks at you with a dangerous glint in his eyes.

“Cum for me, show me how good I make you feel,” he demands.

Your body shakes and you squeeze around his length, making you cry out his name over and over. It’s all too much and somehow you’ll know you’ll be wanting more later. He slows his pace and continues to watch you moan through your orgasm. Clinging onto his arms, you gasp and try to get ahold of your emotions.

Elvis quickly pulls out of you and you watch as his hand wraps around his cock, wet and sticky from your arousal. He groans as he slowly pulls his foreskin back and exposes his red tip and rubs his thumb there. He keeps this slow pace as you can’t look away from what he’s doing to himself. Wishing you could be the one to do that.

He looks up at you and grabs your hand, pulling you off the ledge. He wraps your hand around his length and you jerk him slowly, watching his face form into ecstasy.

“Make me cum baby,” he says low. You nod your head and start moving your hand faster, hearing the slick sounds your hand on his length is making. Watching him get off like this is so unbelievably attractive and makes you want him to take you again. His breathing labors and you feel him twitch in your hand. Quickly, you sink to your knees and pump his load on your breasts. He looks down at you in awe, so lust driven and filled with pleasure. You keep looking up at him as he continues to cum hot thick spurts on you. You don’t understand why this is so hot but you can admit that it was just as enjoyable to him as it was for you.

The last few drops come out of him and he’s left breathless, biting his lip as he looks at your hungrily, watching the spurts of his cum drop down your breasts.

“Fuck, you know exactly what I wanted huh?” He smirks.

“I had a feeling you might like it,” you say coyly.

He walks swiftly to the side of the bed, giving you a great view of his behind leaving you on your knees on the floor. He pulls the handle of the top drawer of the small nightstand and pulls out a Polaroid camera. Walking back to you and sinking onto his knees too, he looks you over.

“May I?” He asks as he raises the camera up. “You look too good to not be photographed,” he marvels to you.

You nod your head before you can form a coherent thought. Placing your hands underneath your breasts, you lift them slightly and squeeze, giving him the best view imaginable. You look directly into the camera lens, showing off your big doe eyes, and wait for him to take the picture. He grins at you and raises the camera to his eye, leaning back, and pressing the shutter button.

Click.

He pulls the film out of the top of the camera and shakes it. He set them down on the ground and takes your breasts in his hands, rubbing your nipples causing another electric shock into your system.

“God you make me want to do so many bad things to you,” he whimpers softly.

You blush at his words and look down at the discarded Polaroid, capturing you covered in his seed and for him to keep for as long as he wants.

“Well I told you I’d stay, you better show me some of those things you want,” you look back up at him challengingly, biting your lip to keep yourself from smiling. You know you’re in deep trouble with him, sinful thoughts filling your head with the most alluring man to ever exist sitting right in front of you. And lord, what lovely sins you’ll commit with him.

•

Tagging 🖤:

@powerofelvis @burninlovebutler @neptuneismysister @velvetelvis @ccab @presleyenterprise @elvispresleyxoxo @loving-elvis

@prompted-wordsmith @sillybookmarks @dkayfixates @rosepresley @ellie-24 @rktismylife-blog . @myradiaz @lookingforrainbows @elvispresleygf @tacozebra051 @thatbanditqueen

@18Ikpeters @flwrs4aust @emma181873 @austinswhitewolf @eliseinmemphis @everythingelvispresley @chasingwildflowers @idontwanttoputanything @ohjustpeachy @elvisalltheway101 @austinsmutler @kingdomforapony @generoustreemystic @kendralavon7 @lettersfromvenus @claire-elvisgirl

@ashtag6887 @burnthheparaphilia @richardslady121 @jacqueline19997 @returntopresley @iloveelvis @rimartin11 @that-hotdog @louisejoy86

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miraculouslbcnreactions · 9 days

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Miraculous is always weird about apology but it's also weird about the thing that count as joke and not. Like Marinette stalkery behavior? It used to be a joke but then BAM! S5 say nope, Marinette is just mentally unstable. And then there's the whole LB throwing CN to the trash can, "it's a joke!" Fandom said, except CN reaction said otherwise. He's basically beat himself for almost half of the episode because of his untiming joke.

I don't know what part of throwing someone in the trash is supposed to be a joke. Maybe if the character isn't affected by it at all, but considering he even talked about it to Marinette then it's not supposed to be a joke!

Miraculous' main humor style is absurdist humor and throwing someone in the trash is pretty classic absurdist humor.

To give a quick overview, "absurdist humor" is humor that is based on the absurdity of the situation the characters are in or the things the characters are saying or the way they're reacting to things. A key component of this humor style is irreverence. Even the darkest of topics aren't taken seriously, making it a terrible humor style to use in serious scenes assuming that you want the scene to actually feel serious.

If you want an example of absurdist humor done right, then watch some Looney Tunes cartoons. They're classic absurdist humor where nothing is sacred and nothing is ever treated seriously.

That doesn't mean that you're not allowed to be upset by one of these cartoons. It's perfectly understandable if one of them gets under your skin because a lot of what we see in Looney Tunes would be terribly cruel or straight up horrific if someone did the same thing in the real world. For example, this Daffy Duck cartoon always makes me laugh, but at the same time, I feel kinda bad for poor Daffy. If he was a real person, then this would not be okay:

youtube

The trash can stuff in Glaciator 2.0 falls in line with the above examples. It's very clearly there to be an absurd punch line:

Marinette: She doesn't hate you! Cat Noir: She threw me in the trash today.

But just because something is clearly a joke doesn't mean that you need to think that it was a good joke. Even if you think it was a good joke, you can still think it was a poor call for the overall narrative, which is where I fall. I love absurdist humor, but I'd never use it to have my romantic leads treat each other poorly because - joke or not - it's still establishing part of their relationship dynamic. The more you make jokes about them being cruel to each other, the more that's just who they are, jokes or not.

Circling back to Looney Tunes, when I think of Bug Bunny and Daffy Duck, I don't think of loving friends who cherish each other. I think of two characters who delight in torturing each other. If you asked me to write these two in a more serious story without any of the humor, they'd be toxic and abusive because that's the only dynamic they have. I can't think of a Looney Tunes story that shows them being nice to each other.

That doesn't mean that you can't use absurdist humor between people who love each other. You just have to be careful about what type of jokes you tell. If you stick to situational absurdist humor such as Marinette needing to steal Adrien's phone to erase a message, then you can get away with a lot more questionable behavior because there's a strong argument that a serious show would just never put her in that situation, making her actions easy to ignore.

Stuff that's a lot harder to ignore would include things like a running gag where Ladybug throws Chat Noir in trashcans when he annoys her. The more you do that, the more it comes across like she actively dislikes him. Eventually, it will reach a point where, even if you remove the joke, you still feel like you can't write her as actually liking her partner because the show never writes her as liking him. This is a problem I'd argue that the show actually has. They massively overplayed the pushy Chat Noir/annoyed Ladybug dynamic to the point where it was painful. I can only overlook it in my own writing because of how massively it goes against their intended character roles.

#ml writing salt #ml writing critical #adrien deserves better #marinette deserves better

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kyupidos · 9 months

Text

08/??/23’s delivery 🏹✉️ twisted wonderland

when they textヽ( ･∀･)ﾉ_θ彡☆Σ(ノ `Д´)ノ,ヽ( ･∀･)ﾉ_θ彡☆Σ(ノ `Д´)ノ ;; summary. ‘when you’re not with them in the real world, how do they talk to you online?’

characters. ignihyde , diasomnia : idia shroud , ortho shroud , malleus draconia , silver , sebek zigvolt , lilia vanrouge ( separate ) ;; platonic . 🖇️ tags. reader is gender neutral ( you/your ), reader may or may not be yuu ( up to the reader ), idk what social media app they’re using, lighthearted character slander, kinda long, crack fluff

📡 _a/n. finally updating after * checks watch * two or so weeks!! haven’t done a romantic in a while..should probably change that.

idia

— now, i decided to base these thoughts on their respective valentine’s day cards..and oh boy is idia a LOSER!! respectfully. maybe. this man is going full discordian mode when he texts you and honestly when he texts in general.

— you know that one friend who sends one text message and all of a sudden you have to spend an hour and a half trying to decipher their message because it has three grammatical errors, twenty six misspells and eight random letters mixed in there? even though it was a five word message?

— that’s him. ESPECIALLY when he’s texting you while he’s gaming, unless he chooses to voice call ( a blessing sent from heaven if you don’t want to struggle when communicating with him ).

— he’s just a fast typer, he defends himself while you wipe a single tear from your eye trying to figure out how “btw can you bring me some sweets?” turns into “n btwcan u like brjgn me sm swts n. stuff thxxx” ( but worse, because..it’s idia and he’s probably gaming if he’s asking you this question. also i purposefully avoided looking at my screen for that ).

ortho

— now i imagine his texts are significantly more normal and relaxed..unlike his BROTHER!! his texts to you are far more polite and he uses big words often, which is such bot behavior tbh. i know he struggles with captchas.

— but overall, he is indeed a relatively normal typer, a sweetheart as usual. i also imagine that he talks in more simplistic sentences as well, and doesn’t really do run-on, if that makes sense. it makes his text messages a little longer if he’s typing paragraph style, but otherwise he’s doing just fine getting the message across.

— now he is naturally curious and relatively attentive too, so he’s probably going to ask you about your own texting style. actually, he might try to implement your texting style into his, if he’s interested enough. it’ll probably only last for a week or so though, before he’s back to his usual kindergarten homework texting style.

malleus

— social media? nah..he’s “texting” you through carrier pigeon. be sure to keep your window open, because whenever he feels like it, he’s going to send you a scroll type of letter that details whatever message he’s trying to convey at the time, and it’s a throwback. a throwback to like..the medieval era.

— whenever he does send these letters, his dictionary of words is sophisticated and informative, not a single itty bitty detail left out. it sort of feels like he’s sending the prologue of a book to you, when he does this. i can imagine him writing it all down with a pure black quill pen, too. and i bet that the first letter to the first word of each letter is also in cursive and enlarged like in those fantasy books, for some odd reason.

— and he’ll send the longest message as well, and you might think that he’s describing to you the entire plot of a trilogy where each part is the length of the dictionary, but no, it’s to describe how upset he is that he had to eat an entire cake by himself, or that he’s sick or something. he’s like me when i’m writing an english essay..except he does it with no purpose to it.

— when you do inevitably send him a reply, he gets all excited too. even if he sends a letter that starts with “Dear friend, I write to you to tell you a tale of a most quizzical recent events that has affected me of late, that has stumped me to no end..” and all you reply with is a scroll and a carrier pigeon as well, and he opens it up only to see an enlarged “K.” in the middle with your signature at the bottom. yeah, he’s completely fine with that. makes him happy.

silver

— someone else who is normal with their texts, on the normal scale would probably be ranked by ortho, if not normaler. he’s just your average texter i suppose, other than the fact that every now and then he adds this really long descriptive word that you have to look up in the dictionary to understand, and it’s completely unexpected.

— he’ll send you a message, and it’ll go “also, did you see the others in class today? i found it odd, they were more lackadaisical than usual.” like. for no reason whatsoever. random big word. not too bad though, so points for him. also, i imagine him to type in all lowercase just like me. i don’t know, i just see him doing it.

— on that note of random things i see him doing, and also random things in general, i see him texting you, and then randomly telling you this fun little fact he happens to know about whatever the topic is. “would you like to stop be the equestrian club? a domestic horse can run up to thirty miles per hour, you know.”

sebek

— hard to say if he’s using a phone, or if he’s talking to you via carrier pigeon like malleus..but i’m leaning towards him using a phone. actually, he might do both, and it depends on how mood how you receive the message. but, let’s just talk about how he tends to talks to you on social media for now.

— but still, no matter whether it’s social media or carrier pigeon, he’s a relatively dry person sadly. when he texts you, it’s rather simplistic, though unlike ortho he does tend to do run-ons. i think the only thing saving him from being totally dry is the fact that he actually uses emojis. his favorite emojis..are probably “😡” and “👍”, and you can take a guess when and why he uses them.

— his messages might actually come off as a little mean every now and then, but i doubt he’ll even realize it 99% percent of the time unless you tell him, and he’ll try his best not to text like that again, but it’s hard for him to stray from his usual texting style..introduce him to tone tags, those are probably a life saver for him.

— he does forget to use them every now and then though, so he haphazardly adds them after he sends the message. don’t worry though, he’s learning and figuring things out! slowly but surely, slowly but surely. doing his best.

lilia

— the old man himself! unlike malleus and sebek, he is of course 100% using a phone. though nonetheless, that old age is not subtle at all, even if he is gaming..not like he’s trying to be, the idea of being subtle probably doesn’t even come to him. surprisingly, other than his old man text tone, he’s a relatively normal texter.

— and by relatively normal, i mean normal for when you’re talking to your grandpa who was there for when the telegraph was still a popular use of communication. except..he was there for forms of communication much, much earlier than that.

— he regularly uses somewhat outdated words and then right next to said outdated word is like, the latest social media lingo that was created like a week ago. a very scary combination of i do say so myself. he could be gaming with you and all of a sudden through the chat logs he’ll text you something along the lines of, “Though, i must say..his ass is NOT making it😂😂”. a jumpscare almost every time.

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cicadaknight · 9 months

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okay i have more (critical) barbie thoughts under the cut.

i really did enjoy it overall. it was fun, cheeky, surreal. i loved the experience of watching it in an energetic theater. i even cried a couple times. but i’m baffled at how powerful it was for so many people when it fell so flat for me. honestly, maybe what i’m feeling is just because i’m trans and it didn’t resonate as strongly with my experience of womanhood or masculinity.

i keep coming across people using gloria’s monologue to dismiss criticism by saying “anyone saying barbie isn’t feminist enough are doing the exact thing gloria pointed out! women have to be perfect but it’s just never good enough!” Y’ALL. having issues with a high-budget, corporate funded movie that has the same milquetoast girl-power messaging you’d find in teen mags from the early 2000s… is not the same as oppressing women under patriarchy. you can critique media and still resonate with aspects of it. good grief.

another response i’ve seen to critiques (specifically of gloria’s monologue) is that the movie’s messages are meant for barbie herself! not for the audience! it had to be super tame and generic because otherwise barbie wouldn’t have understood! all those speeches and ideas are aimed solely at barbie who is learning about all of this for the first time! it’s not for you if you already get it! what?????? that’s not how media works and you know it.

also, the idea that it’s meant to be palatable for a “wider audience” so it couldn’t have included intersectionality without losing people. translation: “wider audience” means white suburbia? white men? cishet people? where the most “representation” they can tolerate is a 3 second clip of a voiceless barbie in a wheelchair dancing? or a black president barbie who mostly says one liners and disappears? a wider audience being the same audience every blockbuster is catered towards?

i’m just spit balling here, but i don’t think it would have been impossible to introduce some unironic nuances like:

america’s latinx character experiencing sexism differently from stereotypical barbie?

maybe not using mount rushmore repeatedly to symbolize who’s in power?

avoiding comparing bringing patriarchy to barbieland to indigenous genocide?

a harsher perspective on mattel’s role in all this? where the outcome isn’t just will farrell’s character griping that he doesn’t even want to be in charge, he just wants to be tickled? (wtf was that lmao)

making a more obvious statement that patriarchy isn’t just a symptom of men stumbling across power and relishing it but that it’s rooted in violent white supremacy and capitalism? i’m positive there’s a way to address that without going full blown academic feminist theory mode.

having the black, fat, and disabled characters speak more than 5 collective minutes? (but at least they had screentime at all, right? ✨representation✨)

explicitly queer characters instead of “weird barbie” and allan being coded as the outsiders to an otherwise regimented cishet universe?

but all those ideas are irrelevant, right? because the movie was just SOOO self aware and layered in irony and if i was smart enough and hadn’t missed the point, i’d know the writers were in on it all.

#barbie spoilers #barbie #barbie criticism #h #okay one last vent #it’s wild to me that people are like ‘no one picks apart movies made by men like this! it’s because everyone hates women!’#creative work made by women is often more heavily scrutinized than work by men #so i think it's necessary to keep that idea of undue scrutiny in mind as we consume media #but at the same time it's not a reason to just avoid engaging with women's work critically #am i losing it?#i’m losing it #also specifically with movies like barbie #if they're going to very openly and specifically address patriarchy and misogyny to make a statement about them #would it not make sense that those themes would be at the front and center of criticism?

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snow-143 · 6 months

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Water Coloured Tears | Jeon Jungkook

six- late night inspo (1.7k words)

'You're late.' I say without looking up at him.

'And you're as blunt as usual I can see.'

Finally, looking up at him, I squint my eyes before replying, 'Don't change the topic. Why are you late?'

'I had something to take care of.'

'Look, if you aren't going to take this project seriously just say that from the get go. At least that way I can prepare to pick up your slack, so I don't fail.' My voice is a little more accusatory than it could be.

'I'm only 15 minutes late. Chill.' He's finally sat down, across from me, levelling us out.

Managing to soften my voice, I return to my previous point, 'You are going to take this seriously, right?'

'Yes, y/n, I'm taking this seriously. I really just had to deal with something.'

'Okay. Then lets get to work. I was thinking we could both brainstorm on our individual pieces today. I have a couple of ideas, and I'm sure you do to.' I can't help but smile thinking about the art we could make together. We used to always come up with the craziest ideas together, they may not have always come out as we imagined, but we always had fun.

'That sounds good. What do you have in mind?' He's smiling now too.

'Get your sketchbook out, and I'll tell you. That is if you remembered to bring it.' It was meant to come off as harsh, but it came out far to soft, as if I was joking with him like old times.

'Shit...'

'Jungkook, I swear to god if you tell me you've forgotten it again I will shove this eraser down your throat.'

It's silent for a minute before be bursts out laughing, retreating his beaten up book from his bag. 'Not funny.' And with that I fling the rubber off his head, hitting a perfect bullseye.

This does nothing to sober up his laughing, if anything it made it worse. He's now hunched over the bench making a massive scene out of it all. 'God. You're scary when you're angry, you know that?'

'I've been told once or twice.' I let out a little laugh at this.

When he finally straightens up it's my turn to laugh at the others expense. A massive red mark has formed right in the centre of his forehead. 'Damn I have an extraordinary shot, maybe I should've gone with sport. My talent is obviously being wasted here.'

'Very funny.' He rubs the red splotch on his head cursing, 'How bad is it?'

'What? Worried it'll put off the flock of women always surrounding you?'

'Oh, trust me, It'd take a lot more than this to deter them.' He's smirking now, and It's putting an end to my fit of laughter.

'Right, sorry. Forgot you were like some sort of Greek god here.' I scoff.

'You jealous? Because you sound jealous.' He's still smirking, god do I wish I could slap that smirk off of his face.

'Jungkook, I've seen you playing Barbies with your little sister. Trust me, I do not see in you whatever every other girl on this campus sees in you.'

As soon as I'm finished talking it's like his whole demeanour has changed. He's not smirking any more, so I guess I got my wish.

'So about the individual pieces, how exactly do you think we should go about it?' Is all he replies.

Ignoring the lump in my throat I open my sketchbook and show him what I've planned so far. They aren't very detailed, but they show the overall message I'm trying to put forward.

By the end of my little presentation he's smiling again, and I can't help but feeling a little shy. We've spent hours showing each other our art but after all this time I feel like I'm laying my soul out to him.

Art has always been the way I express myself, and I'm always worried that maybe I'm showing too much.

I've only done sketches for 3 pieces. Technically 4. One that I'm planning on making out of stained-glass, it'll be made up of multiple different parts that hang from the ceiling to make an overall image. The second one is a drawing of a man, that may or may not resemble Jungkook, comforting a little girl, who may or may not resemble me as a child- representing someone healing your inner child. Of course, I'll have to find a way to incorporate the photographs, but I'm sure I'll be able to make up some pretentious explanation.

And lastly there's a sketch of 2 sculptures, both resembling me and Jeon. I must say I enjoyed drawing him far too much, and I'm sure I'll enjoy sculpting his face even more. They count as 2 pieces as we will make them separately, but they also fit together. I've drawn them, so they have cloth covering their eyes that can be removed. I'm also planning on having LED lights in their eyes, so we can change the prospective of them. We can arrange them in many different ways; with them facing away with the fabric covering their eyes, them facing each other with different colour settings on the lights to represent emotions, etc.

I've explained all of this while showing him the drawings. Him adding a little hum here and there, never interrupting me.

The sculpture is the only one of his that I've planned as I wanted it to be a joint project and for the rest I don't want to control his creativity.

'I know I've planned ahead a lot, and we still need to incorporate the pictures, but I'm sure we can think of a way to incorporate them. And for the others we can centre it more around the pictures. It's okay if you don't like the sculpture idea it's your project too, but I just thought-'

'This is amazing, y/n.' He cuts off my rambling. Closing the book I look away from his gaze.

'It's just a rough idea. You can put in any input you like.'

'Actually, I have a couple ideas myself.' Looking over at him, hinting at him to elaborate, I notice he's still smiling. It's gentle, admiring almost.

After a moment he breaks from my gaze, focusing on his sketchbook instead. 'There not as detailed as yours but... I just had a burst of inspiration last night and this morning.'

He's rubbing the back of his neck now, a nervous habit of his. I'm the one smiling now, he always did get inspired at random times. He'd go months without even picking up a pencil sometimes and then seemingly at random times he'd get 'inspiration' and then you'd never see him without his face buried in a sketchbook.

'Is that why you were late?' Glancing at me, he gives me a shy smile.

'Sort of.' He says before opening his book.

While he's flicking through his drawing, trying to find the most recent drawings in the unorganized mess I decide to try and get a look at his other drawings. It may be an intrusion, but I'm curious on how his style has changed over time.

'What was that?' I ask after he rushes to turn the page.

'Nothing. It was nothing.' That was definitely not nothing. There is a high chance I have lost my mind because I can't believe what I just saw.

It was a drawing of me. A drawing of a picture I posted on my Instagram over a month ago at least. Except the background was different.

In the actual photo I'm laying on my bed, but in his drawing I'm in a field of flowers. One that looks suspiciously like one next to his childhood home.

And surely that can't be right. It makes a lot more sense that I've finally lost it.

Deciding that I did infant hallucinate it, I focus on the drawing he's stopped on instead.

It's a beautiful drawing. If he hadn't told me that he only started on it last night I'd easily believe that he spent hours on it.

It's a drawing of a girl. Me. This I can accept as the whole project has to revolve around the other person. Except it's not just a regular drawing of me. I'm sat in a dark room with my legs crossed and my arms up in the air, looking more carefree than I truly have felt in months. My smile is bright, blinding.

But the thing that catches my focus the most are the angel wings I've got. They almost look like they're shining in contrast to the dark background. There's a bright light coming off of me lighting up the surrounding space.

'I um, I already have a photo to represent this one.' Looking up at him, we lock eyes.

I don't even know what to say. It's beautiful. I look beautiful. He truly is an amazing artist if he could show someone he clearly has some sort of disdain for in such a positive light.

Before I can even compose myself to ask any questions he's clearing his throat and looking away. Getting one last look at the drawing, I watch as he turns the page.

The next sketch is one where we are hugging. I'm basically a rainbow incarnate, full of colour. Whereas he looks like the storm clouds that hide the prism of colour away from sight. There's a bright light in both of our chests. But where we're connected in the embrace my colour is leaking into him. At first, I think it's a beautiful concept until I realise that where he's gaining colour I'm losing it. He's draining me of it. Leaving those parts of me a dark void whereas he's being filled with my light.

'I also have a picture for this one.' This time I don't look up at him. I don't think I can.

'These are insanely good Jungkook.' Swallowing the lump in my throat, I ask what we should do this Wednesday.

prev | m.list | next

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a/n: first saturday i haven’t been at work in like a year so i figured i’d write last night instead of sleeping :)

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dinsdjrn · 10 months

Text

everything i wanted | j. miller | track two

track one | track three | masterlist

bodyguard!joel AU

AU!Joel x singer!f!reader

summary: I'm scared to death I'll scream your name and still there's not a thing I would change. That's okay, but I think about it. rejection never gets any easier, but we all find ways to move on. [w.c: 4.4k]

tags for the series: 18+, minors DNI, angst/fluff/eventual smut, sarah's dead (plot), ellie is alive, parental manipulation/abuse (maternal) (reader is in a classic love bombing abuse cycle please note the mother is not redeemable), depression, drug and alcohol use, sobriety, stalker behaviour from a fan, will update as i go, this ones gonna get dark but it will have the happy feel good too! as always if anything is missing tell me and i will add it!

a/n: i am back from vacation and ready to write the days away. this one is for @tightjeansjavi who keeps me going and reminds me not to quit.

track two - think about it

It always felt weird to record a song that struck a chord close to your heart. You were pulling on the most exhausting day of your life, and it wasn’t even entirely yours anymore. It had been polished and produced into something you recognized, but not something you knew and understood. It was a frustrating, but undeniably, good song. It held some of the grit you craved, whilst keeping the image that was carefully curated for you.

Overall it had been a successful morning in the studio and your complaints were for you to bury alone. When everyone had taken a break to grab a coffee and come back with fresh ideas, you stayed behind to send a small clip to your parents.

[Audio Message]

Finally a complete song for the deluxe!! Can’t wait for you to hear the rest :)

Your dad loved the message, all you got back from your mom was a ‘Call me’.

You sighed making your way out into the hallway where there would be better reception. To no surprise Joel was just outside the door of the studio waiting.

“I’m just making a call, uh, to my mom,” you said, not entirely sure why you explained it to him.

“Do you want some privacy?” He asked.

“Oh, oh no, it won’t be long. Sorry, I just didn’t know-“ you rambled, cut off by your phone buzzing in your hand. You swiped to answer it, now flustered from the most meaningless interaction with Joel.

“Hey Mom, How’d you like the clip?” You asked excitedly.

You slowly sat down on the floor across the hallway from Joel.

It was something that could go either way, but you were hopeful your excitement would deter a rude remark.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” She spat.

“What?” Your voice dropped, clearly defeated.

Joel looked at you perplexed. You just rolled your eyes and sighed.

“This isn’t a hit for the deluxe! Telling your fans you hate them is no way to make people WANT to listen to you,” She exploded, completely missing the point of the song.

“Well you’ve just heard a bit, it’s about more than that.”

“It’s not what it’s about, it’s how it’s perceived.” She was condescending.

“Okay, sorry mom.” Your voice broke.

“Well don’t make me out to be the bad guy, you asked for my opinion. At the end of the day it’s your album and whether you sink or swim is up to you,” Her tone was sharp and quick. It dug into your mind in a way only she knew how to do.

You weren’t sure why you put up with her anymore, maybe you felt guilty, maybe she is just under a lot of stress, maybe, maybe, maybe…

“No, you’re right,” you sighed wiping tears away, “We’ll work on it.”

“Love to hear it sweetie. The next one will be it I’m sure!” Her tone changed again, giving you emotional whiplash.

“I have to go, the studio is going back in.” You lied.

“Go on! Make a hit! I miss you!” She promptly hung up before you could reply.

As the call disconnected you felt the tears welling in your eyes spill over. Her words didn’t hurt you like they used to, they frustrated you to no end.

“Fuck,” you whispered.

You weren’t paying super close attention to your surroundings, but you felt a presence sit next to you on the floor.

“Hey, hey, it will be okay,” it was Joel talking to you, comforting you.

“I’m sorry, she is just so fucking frustrating,” you leaned your head back against the wall.

This was so beyond what you’d ever expect of him, but it was comforting nonetheless. Your heart swelled at the sentiment. You weren’t one to really crush on anyone, but Joel had this gravity to him that pulled you in.

“You’re okay, she has no idea how amazing it is,” he continued softly.

“What?” You asked, confused at this new softer side of Joel.

“The song, it’s great. I know people are going to love it.” He offered a small smile.

“We won’t know until it’s out there,” you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Well I know, for a fact, one fourteen year old girl is going to love it,” He continued, “Hell I’ll probably hear it so much I’d pay you to take it off the album for me.”

You offered a sympathetic laugh for his attempt at a joke.

“Ellie?” You asked.

“Yeah, the kid loves you, it didn’t connect until well… we got here.”

“What made you finally recognize my music?” You asked out of curiosity.

“The album on the wall, I’m pretty sure we have it on vinyl. And I’m fairly certain that vinyl rarely leaves the record player.” He rolled his eyes, they were softer than normal.

You weren’t sure if it was out of sympathy for your pathetic display, or fondness for discussing his daughter. Either way you liked this side of Joel, it tugged at your heart. His complexities making your mind wander, you want to see him, really know him.

“Well, she is welcome here anytime,” you said.

You placed a hand on his crossed arms, it sent a chill down your arm and spine. Just a touch sent you into a frenzy. Your hand lingered and the silence drew on for just a moment longer than it needed to. Joel cleared his throat and it brought you back.

“Thanks, uh, yeah thank you,” he turned away from you standing up.

You had stopped crying and stood up to meet Joel.

“Thanks, for being there. Well, and boosting my ego,” You smiled making your way to the door behind him.

“Anytime,” he said with some southern drawl.

You didn’t spend much more time in the studio that day. Your head wasn’t in it anymore and everyone could tell. You also had drinks with James to get ready for. Once everyone called it an early day you headed home to change and get ready for a night out. He didn’t say anything the entire way home, just like the day before. Joel followed, he kept his distance, staying in the common spaces looking somehow both devastating and intimidating.

“Joel,” you breathed, dizzy and giddy from the atmosphere and the alcohol in your system.

When you had agreed to go out, you only committed to one drink. Then one drink turned to four, and pounding back drink after drink made the world fade away. The booth gossip no longer interested you, you took James by the hand and made your way to the dance floor, Joel following suit.

“We should get you home,” he stated, attempting to shuffle you back to the table.

“This could be fun, if you let it! We could make the most of a bad situation!” You threw your head back and laughed.

You brushed your hand against his arm. This was bold and unlike you in all aspects, but you were letting go. Letting go of the past 3 days, letting go of the past 5 years, letting go of every rational thought you’ve ever had.

“No, you don’t know me. You’re drunk. I’m here to do a job, nothing more, nothing less.” He pulled away from you and forced you back to the table.

“Joel, you don’t understand. I haven’t felt like this for anyone in a long time and you have to tell me you feel it too.” Your tone growing serious, accusatory.

What he said next sent an arrow straight through your soul. It was sobering and rejection hadn’t hit this hard in a long time.

“I don’t, there is nothing between us. If you got caught up with me that quickly you’ll get over it twice as fast.”

His words winded you, you were too drunk to read him, but you tried. There was no sense of regret, mistruth, no sense of anything really. He was cold as the moment you met and it was harrowing. You’re sure if you were sober you’d see nothing but a cold, uncaring man.

You had never felt a pull like this from anyone, and in the short time you’d known one another you desperately wanted to believe he felt it too. That’s all it was though, desperation. The first person in so long that made you believe that they might care about you, even if it was just for a paycheck. In less than three days he had treated you like more of a human than half the people you had met in the last five years.

“Take me home, now.” You whispered. Unable to look him in the eye.

So he did, like any security detail would, he got you into the car with minimal disruption from paps. Not a word was spoken between you, the silence warped to your despair. Being turned down so blatantly was something you were used to from labels, but never like this. Never with someone you felt such a connection to so quickly.

In the car your phone buzzed, you thought it was James asking where you went. It came from an unknown number.

You can leave, but I will always follow…

It was definitely from the same person, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to care. This was your secret to keep. You didn’t want to come off as overly dramatic as your mother had previously accused you of doing. So you deleted the message and moved on, it wasn’t like it was a note at your door.

When you got back to the apartment you made your way to your room without a word, stumbling down the hall. You didn’t want to cry, not for this. You wanted to sleep and hoped that this night would become a hazy memory, bound to your drunkenness like a secret.

You stared at the bathroom mirror hoping that at the very least you could harness this feeling into capital. The thought made your palms clench and chest tight, you felt like you were suffocating. It sent you into a spiral you hadn’t felt in a long time, the fear of failing, not being good enough overwhelming you. This album was eating you alive and all around you you were surrounded by rejection, from Joel, from your mother, from your label; every direction pulled your head below the water in a new way.

You hadn’t had a panic attack in years. You reached in the cabinet for your meds, you hadn’t needed them in so long, but as the tension in your chest began to build you felt yourself slowly losing control.

Gripping the counter you let this feeling fester until it slowly passed. All you were left with was the fading buzz of the drinks in your system becoming a sleepy haze you were sure to regret in the morning.

The next morning, the night before wasn’t brought up. It was almost unnerving how cold Joel was toward you but somehow he came off as indifferent. You knew any trust or relationship you had built was officially gone. Nothing left but ruins in your wake.

By noon, he was gone and his relief Will Jones had arrived. Will was an older gentleman who clearly kept up with himself over the years. He was warmer than Joel and would make conversation the same way you’d make it with your dad. You knew you’d get along fine, but he also wasn’t Joel.

You weren’t too keen on conversation, somewhere between the dull ache in your chest and your hangover you’d forgotten

your kindness. So Jones gave you your space and you worked on your music.

And that’s how it went… for three weeks you’d rotate between Joel and Will. Not saying much to either of them. Wake up, go to the studio, get nothing done, go out and forget your frustrations, and repeat. Three weeks of failure in the day forgotten with a bender in the night.

Texts would come through, always from a different number. Always along the lines of missing you and loving you, never threatening you. You never thought much of them and always kept them to yourself deleting them soon after they came in.

You were falling apart and didn’t think anyone was going to notice. No one ever had before and there wasn’t anyone close enough to you to care.

You felt stuck creatively, nothing you were making was impressing producers enough. You felt stuck personally, forever between a rock and a hard place. Your mother berating you for coming up with nothing, receiving a cold shoulder from Joel who you had only grown more fond of, feeling so isolated and alone even though this is what you’ve always dreamed of. You should be grateful for everything you have, but it came at the expense of your soul.

It had been a particularly bad night for you, Will was with you tonight and you had gotten particularly clobbered. It was messy and no one was brave enough to stop you. You felt the eyes and phones on you and it was the moment you knew this was going to be a mess your team would have to clean up. Your carefully curated image of a humble small town artist was being thrown out the window. Just one night where the eyes at the bar looked a little too closely, they found out a little too much about you. It would all come crashing down in just a few short hours.

“Get me out of here,” You said to Will, pulling on his sleeve like a toddler.

“Let’s go,” He quickly shuffled you out of the bar and to a car that was waiting outside.

The paparazzi were insane this time around and you had never felt so scared. The word must’ve already been out where you were and everyone wanted the shot that would destroy your image. It was worth so much more than a photo of you leaving the studio, or on a pre planned date with another emerging artist.

The flashes made you nauseous and the banging on the windows and shouting from outside the vehicle had installed a new type of fear and anxiety within you. You clenched your fists and loved your eyes solely focusing on your breathing and heart rate. It was hard to focus in with all the noise around you and you knew that if their cameras got the shot it was going to be messy but you had to calm down.

Eventually your car had made it through the mob of people and back to your apartment. You needed to collapse in bed, just sleep and forget everything. As soon as you came through the door you made your way to bed, fully clothed, make-up on, and began scrolling through twitter. Of course there were photos of you from tonight that had begun circling. TMZ was already spinning a story about how you had flown off the handle, with a full segment to come in the morning. Daily Mail had jumped on an article too in the forty minutes it took you to get home.

Just like that it had all come crashing down so fast. Maybe it was the attention you had wanted, maybe not. Something about having your image fall apart and the world watching you come undone was cathartic and yet you didn’t feel any better. You knew you were making a mess for someone else to clean up. You were still buzzed beyond your capacity to form a coherent thought about the repercussions you would face. You knew what was to come and yet, in your state, couldn’t bring yourself to care. So in the most pathetic attempt to make the pain go away, you fell asleep.

Someone had woken you up the next morning, it didn’t feel like you had slept for very long. It could also be that you had slept a long time, you were just hungover. You rubbed your eyes which had felt extremely dry, and when you looked at your hands the black smears of mascara reminded you of the night before. You had fallen asleep without even making an attempt at getting ready for bed. You had never felt so disgusting, you’re sure you were a pitiful sight.

“What time is it?” You croaked.

“It’s nine in the morning.” A voice you hadn’t expected said.

“Mom?” You questioned fully opening your eyes and looking at where the voice had come from.

There she was in the flesh. She looked as if she had just walked off the page of a magazine, not a single piece out of place.

“What are you doing here?” You sat up and questioned. Your head was pounding and you struggled to put the pieces of why she would show up unannounced together.

“I flew out as soon as I saw what was going on on twitter,” She started, “And I’m glad I did. This was the first thing I saw when I landed this morning.”

She stood and stalked toward you dropping a tabloid paper on the end of your bed.

There you were in all your drunken glory, right on the front page, trying to escape the bar the night before. You flip to the article which basically called you out for cracking under the pressure of fame. Maybe they were right, you had reached your tipping point of rejection.

You couldn’t stop what came next, but everything just came crashing down. And as if you were a kid again your mom came to your side and wrapped herself around you.

She whispered that it would be okay, and how proud she was of you and for a moment you believed her. It didn’t matter what her motives were, whether or not she just wanted you back in the studio. It was nice to feel like someone cared, you’d been so surrounded by ghosts who didn’t give a shit about you to sit and be held and be told your love was enough to forgive her all over again. These were the tender moments you clung to for dear life. Without them there would be no one left to care about you, and you would fade away.

“Come on, let’s get you ready to go,” she said when you had started to calm down.

There it was, she wanted you back into the studio to capitalize on this. For the moment you could forget about that though, because at least she was here, at least she cared.

Within the hour you had made it to the studio and started tweaking some of the songs you had worked on before. Your mom had made herself brief and was on the next flight back to New York. Her work was done and you had been put on a strict studio to home lockdown by your team. It was for the best.

The morning in the studio had been weird, Will and Joel were supposed to switch off today and as the day grew later you wondered if Joel had finally thrown in the towel. Just as your mind got away from you he came in flustered with a kid in tow.

“Thanks for covering for me man,” He said to Will.

He turned to you and looked apologetic, “Is it okay if Ellie sticks around today? She got into trouble at school and my brother was already at work, no one was available to watch the kid this short notice?”

“Oh yeah, of course!” You smiled and said a little too cheer-y.

Joel looked at you for a second longer than comfortable and his eyes grew softer. He was reading you like a book. You’re sure you didn’t look great but no one had made a note of how miserable you looked.

“Thanks,” he stepped toward you.

“You alright?” He spoke softly, looking directly at you.

You melted away at his concern, you felt like you were the only person in the world. His features grew soft just for you and all the feelings you tried so hard to get rid of had pushed their way to the surface again.

“Yeah, I will be,” And just for a second you believed it.

Your focus came back to the room and the young girl shifted behind Joel.

“Hi! Ellie, so nice to finally meet you! I’ve heard so much about you!” you stood and made your way to her.

Ellie then smiled so big and beamed your way. You pulled her into a hug and she reciprocated. When you pulled away you could tell she was just buzzing.

“I’m such a huge fan,” She said.

“So I’ve heard. I hear you’re also quite the guitar player?” You looked at Joel who was smiling fondly at the interaction between the two of you.

“I’m alright,” She said shyly.

“Well, I have a song I need some help with so let’s see what you’ve got?”

You and Ellie took a seat on the couch, you were excited to introduce someone to this world. You always felt like the one who knew the least but you could see the light and excitement in her eyes.

“So I usually try to tell a story, pull from hardships in my life,” you explained.

“Oh,” Ellie said and shifted a bit uncomfortable.

“You don’t have to though? Is there anything you feel you want to get out in the world?” You asked.

“Well,” Ellie hesitated, “I guess there is one thing, that’s kinda bugging me.”

“Okay?” you pressed.

“See, there’s this, uh, girl. She isn’t out yet but we were together for a bit.. and uh, well she ended things but I still have feelings for her.” Ellie’s demeanor changed and became disheartened.

“Wait, I actually think I have something you might be able to help me finish,” you said frantically digging in your bag for your notebook.

And that’s how it started. You and Ellie spent the day writing a melancholy love song together. Little did she know the piece you had written was for her father.

The song spoke of the one person who could derail your whole life if they wanted and you had so much fun writing and recording with Ellie. She even helped with the harmonies and the production. It was a great song and throughout the whole process you and Joel shared knowing looks with one another. For a moment there was a sense of understanding and forgiveness between you.

You wanted to grip onto this moment and never let it go. Forget all the scandal, the fear, the things that got you into this position and just hold onto the feeling of understanding between you, Ellie and Joel.

All good things must come to an end though, as Ellie left with her uncle so did the warmth that Joel carried. You felt as if you were back at square one and there was nothing you could do about it.

The drive home was quiet and uncomfortable as it had been the night he turned you down, but you couldn’t figure out why.

When you returned to the apartment it was so quiet. You and Joel hadn’t spoken much in the last three weeks but this silence was deafening. There was so much you both wanted to say but neither of you could find the words.

“Goodnight, Joel,” You said quietly, getting ready to take your leave.

“Y’know I saw the pictures from last night?” He said and you were taken aback.

“I’m sorry?” You tensed, not needing a reminder of your downfall.

“I saw them all, you dancing with those random guys. Shit faced beyond yourself. I couldn’t help but blame myself,” He looked at his feet.

“Joel it’s not your-“

“I lied to you,” he cut you off.

“Oh?”

“Three weeks ago, I lied to you and told you I didn’t feel anything. I don’t know if you were being truthful or if you were just drunk, but I felt that connection too.” He admitted.

You were left speechless.

“I lied because I have a job to do, and I have to keep you safe. I couldn’t risk that for what I thought was just a fleeting moment of attraction. Seeing you last night though? That nearly killed me. I wanted to rip their damn heads off, the men, the paps, all of them.”

He sighed and continued, “I care about you, I care about the way you feel. I want to know you, I want you to care about me and that’s fucking terrifying.”

“Joel,” you said barely above a whisper, not sure what to believe.

You hadn’t realized it but he had made his way to you, and once you noticed his presence was suffocating.

“I want to keep you safe. After seeing you with Ellie today I don’t want to wonder what could have been. I need to know.” He looked right at you, moving a piece of hair away from your face. Gently cupping your cheek.

“Joel, I’m a mess.” You turned away from him. “The whole reason you’re here is fucked up, and I clearly am not one to handle things well. I’m so fucking scared and I-“

Before you could continue his lips found yours and you were pulled into an all encapsulating kiss. The way his lips moved against yours was like a man starved. It was delicate but desperate all the same. You sighed against him and he wrapped his hand around your waist gripping you close. It said everything you couldn’t say to one another. Nothing had ever felt more right and for the first time in so long you had felt safe, like everything was going to be ok.

When you finally pulled apart his hand lingered on your waist and you knew there would be so much to discuss in the days to come. Now was not the time though, the what ifs, and logistics could come later. For now you were wrapped in the bliss of the truth, the safety of your apartment, and the idea that this moment was just for you.

“Goodnight, Joel,” you smiled, and kissed him on the cheek.

“Goodnight, darlin’,” he said and released his hands from your waist.

You were on cloud nine as you got ready for bed, tired from the emotions of the day and still nursing a wicked hangover.

Just as you were getting ready for bed another text from an unknown number came through. Your heart stopped and elation came crashing down.

How could you?

tags: @pedgeitopascal @morning-star-joy @canseethebrushstrokes @skysmiller @contemplatingchemtrails @kyloispunk @skythighs @reader-without-a-story @aryastark-baratheon @thetriumphantpanda @ilovepedro @beskarandblasters @joelsversion once again i am horrid at tag lists but happy to make an attempt at adding u <3

#joel miller x you #joel miller au #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller angst #joel miller fic #tlou fic #joel miller

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alynnl · 1 month

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🔥 for whatever's been bugging you lately

Oh, boy. I'm about to touch on a topic I have ranted about extensively in private spaces. Only now I'm going to make my opinion public because I feel like I need to take a stand.

"Across media fandoms, so many fans refuse to stay in their lane and it leads to a lot of unnecessary trouble."

Allow me to explain.

Perhaps I'm only seeing the loudest of the vocal minority, but this behavior is grating to me. In general I come to my fan spaces to have fun, discuss media with others who've viewed it, and relax after taking care of my real life responsibilities.

I've seen shipping wars since my earliest days in fandom, and those have not died down in the slightest. In some ways, they've actually gotten worse, because people bring in purity culture and real life politics where I feel like they don't belong. (People who act like it's a moral duty to ship their rare pair instead of a more popular ship, as an example.)

This mentality of only having the most "morally correct" opinions on a piece of media goes beyond shipping too, when it comes to discussing individual characters or the (perceived) message of the media overall. Who and what is "problematic" is a dominating theme in many fan discussions on this website and others. There's this idea that a person's taste in media, characters, and even ships gives any indication of their real life morality. When really, most people (if not all) I've met who are into the darker, tragic and more dramatic themes in media are just interested in that part of storytelling and would never condone acts like murder, genocide or abuse in real life.

On the other side of the coin, there are other fans who try and label what is and isn't "cringe." I've seen them take aim at self-shippers, OC x Canon shippers, or even themes within the media itself that they've deemed "cliched" or "predictable." There's this smugness that comes with pointing out flaws CinemaSins style. It's very elitist in its way and to me translates to "I see what you don't, Sheeple!"

I'm sure there are other details of annoying fandom behavior that I have left out, but these are the main ideas to me.

It all comes down to one thing.

"When people dislike something, they turn around and make it everybody else's problem."

This is in spite of the widely available blacklisting tools and block button that are very easy to use to curate one's Tumblr experience. (I cannot speak for other websites and how easy or difficult it is to curate one's feed there, but I imagine there is something similar to Tumblr's system.)

Instead of accepting that a ship, piece of media, OC, or even an entire user's feed isn't their cup of tea and moving on, people have to say something rude about it.

And it just seems like a waste of time and energy. I think it would be better spent with things that actually spark joy.

All in all I feel like I’m getting too old for this sort of thing. Or maybe since I have more life experience, I’m more aware of what I want and what I’m better off without. Having to balance work and home life will do that. I’ll keep on sharing my thoughts with people who I feel I can truly be myself around. I hope everybody has at least one person, if not a few people like that. Because I think everyone should have a chance to be happy, in fan spaces and elsewhere.

#Lynn speaks #personal #fandom woes #fandom wank #purity culture #elitist culture #I really am too old for all this #no fandoms named #it’s ALL of them #but I blacklist block and curate til the cows come home #Sometimes I gotta pause and ask if I’m being fair #but most of the time my instincts are right and I insta block bad vibes

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rongzhi · 1 year

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Hey! This isn't douyin related but I started seeing this on kuaishou of young people posting videos of themselves in the hospital and being tied to their beds. I really don't want to assume the worst but they are also having to defend themselves against comments that aren't too kind or understanding towards them. Sometimes they are tagged with 双向情感性障碍 which sounds like some kind of condition they have? You wouldn't have any context on this or anything would you?

双向情感性障碍 is bipolar disorder/manic depression, so I am guessing (without seeing the videos you mentioned) that the people are being restrained as a preventative measure, considering they have been hospitalised. From my experience, you will find that there are a lot of people who continue to post frequently on social media from the hospital (even if they probably shouldn't, for their own health). Perhaps it makes them feel less alone, even if the messages they receive from strangers are not very forgiving. :\ As you said, if you started seeing these videos, other strangers have also probably started seeing these videos, which is probably where the unkind comments started.

At this point, I would like to just give a gentle reminder to you and anyone perusing these apps/sites: these video platforms like kuaishou and douyin are part of the internet at large so there will be pretty bleak stuff that you come across some times, as not only are there content creators posting funny and creative videos, there are also normal people posting about their lives, misfortune and all. I feel like maybe English-speaking social media suppresses this kind of stuff from randomly entering most people feeds (in my experience anyway), but from having used Chinese social media for a couple years now, it is not uncommon for some pretty grim stuff to get pushed to you when you are not expecting it, and it can definitely shake you up.

I think it is important to protect yourself in these cases; overall, if you find this content distressing, you should make sure to press 'not interested' on the videos to get them out of your algorithm. Otherwise it will send you down some pretty depressing rabbit holes sometimes, or it will keep pushing this stuff to you. This is where the "not interested" button should be on kuaishou (pictured below).

Take care!

#text #answered ask #ask to tag i guess

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vanoincidence · 5 days

Text

Z for Zinnia! || Van & Thea

TIMING: april 18. LOCATION: the common. PARTIES: @notstinky & @vanoincidence SUMMARY: van runs into thea after buying zinnias (and leaving her message on read), which most definitely are not for her! CONTENT WARNINGS: none!

It was easier to pretend that her whole life hadn’t exploded upon impact rather than to let the feelings and thoughts about it fester. She wasn’t sure if going out was a great idea considering the cabin had acted as a safe haven, but she was beginning to grow stir crazy, and she wasn’t sure how many more card games she could play with Snickers (and lose) before she’d totally go off the rails. So against her better judgment, Van left the cabin and made her way into town. A couple of days after the situation, she had gone to pick up her car from Regan’s apartment, but not before inspecting it carefully for any tracking devices. It didn’t seem like the banshees were technologically advanced enough for something like that, luckily enough.

Work was still off the table, and surprisingly enough, Rocky was kind about it in regards to both herself and Jade. Van still felt guilty, and her money was burning a hole through her pocket, but what she went on to do today was worth it, wasn’t it?

She stared down at the carriage of flowers, a myriad of colors to create a rainbow. The greens and yellows stared up at her with the promise that these were the right ones. After purchasing a small bouquet, Van weighed it out in her hand suddenly feeling silly. Thea had left because she needed to, and Van was going to apologize (for nothing– okay, maybe the ghosting) with flowers? To a friend? The idea that Thea was just a friend was fleeting, and the heat that rose to her cheeks as she noticed that Thea was there across from her in the common now with somebody… else?

Oh god, this wasn’t happening. Couldn’t be happening, actually! Because this only happened in stupid movies where the girl always got the guy, but Van didn’t care about getting the guy, and there was no guy in this equation, there was just the star seeker Thea with her smile and round head, and–

“Thea! Um, hi– I– my house blew up. I’m sorry I’ve been like, MIA.” That was smooth, totally smooth.

She didn’t smell like marinara; it was more like wood, sweat, and something tangential to Dr. Kavanagh though less dead-body overall. Thea could pick Van out of an ocean of people—her scent had a way of pricking her. She’d lived with her long enough—just a few months, but it was enough—to know Van like her own asterism (she’d liken her to The Summer Triangle but maybe that was just her fondness for those stars). Van was more like a galaxy, anyway; too far away and too great and there was no way Thea would ever get the chance to look at all of it. Van had left her on read, which in this climate, meant that she totally hated her. So, she smelled her first, down the length of the common. Her body reacted by sweating and her legs felt numb and her throat dry and her friend (it was one of those one-sided friendships) did not want to turn around. They kept walking and the scent drew closer and closer until the Van-shape (not like the car) on the horizon was right in front of her. With flowers!

“Are those zinnias?” Thea asked first, completely glossing over the thing with the house. Gardening was more her dad’s hobby, but she still recognized a few things. “Oh, sorry, this is…” Thea gestured to her side, to her friend. The woman with waves of fire-red hair and grass-green eyes was older than them both by several years. Pollenina, Polly to her friends and Thea, was exactly Van’s height and when she looked at her, she was unimpressed. Then her gaze fell to the bouquet and she scoffed. “Sorry,” Thea apologized for her, “Polly thinks cutting flowers is murdering them. Which it is! Technically.” Polly scoffed again and moved on, but Thea stood there, nervously picking at the threads on her sleeve.

She should move on; that was the sort of thing a person did when their friend kept walking and the friend who didn’t like them much was there and she had flowers but they couldn’t have been for Thea, because Van didn’t like her enough to read her messages so she couldn’t have liked her enough to get flowers. The sweet floral notes of the green and yellow zinnias lifted into the air; Thea’s nose twitched. Did Van have some other friend? Some other friend that she called cute? Some other friend that she would be buying flowers for? Some other friend that watched her gamble on her phone for anime girls? Some other friend that she was playing Halo with even though she said she would play it with Thea but no, of course that was a lie. “Sorry, your house? That’s…” Terrible, obviously. Something similar happened to hers and that was terrible too, but Thea couldn’t stop herself from smiling. God, the blown up house was probably code for ‘and I was hanging out with my cool other friends who aren’t sad and don’t make weird metaphors’. Or maybe: ‘I was playing Halo with my new best friend who isn’t you and never would be you’.

Thea sniffled, she didn’t feel good; it must have been allergies. “…great,” she said, “it’s great about your house. I mean, terrible. I mean, what are the flowers for?”

It didn’t seem like Thea’s company was keen on sticking around, because after her gaze bore into the bouquet that she held, she was walking off, leaving behind the real reason that Van had left the cabin to begin with. “I guess.. I mean, it is, yeah.” She suddenly felt bad for buying the bouquet to begin with. Maybe she should’ve gotten Thea an actual plant. Then again, she wasn’t trying to impress Polly, and Polly didn’t matter. At all. Thea mattered here, and she thought that Thea liked flowers. Did she? Van hoped she did.

Specifically, Van hoped that Thea liked the flowers she got her. Did Polly get her other things? Things that weren’t dead, or reminded her of the way that people just took and took? Van didn’t want to take things from the world for Thea, but she’d capture the stars for her in an instant if asked. It wasn’t possible, she knew, and so she would need to get the glow in the dark stars, maybe the pink ones, or green.

“Um.. yeah, it was…” Now was probably not the time to tell Thea that there were banshees after them, or maybe it was. Maybe secrets weren’t good anymore, and maybe she was cruel for wanting to keep this one from Thea considering the banshee in Regan’s apartment had mentioned Thea, too. But Thea was safe now that she was no longer staying with Van, right? There was a disconnect there, and Van hoped that it would keep Thea safe. “Out of nowhere, I guess.” That wasn’t necessarily a lie. Van hadn’t anticipated that her house would be blown up, either thanks to the monster she dragged from the depths of the earth, or the banshees’ screams.

Van’s brows furrowed as Thea seemingly stumbled over her words. “Great…?” Maybe it was great. Maybe Thea knew that deep down, Van had wanted to get rid of that house for as long as her grandmother had left back to New York. Maybe Thea could tell that every time Van spoke about her house, there was a thick layer of contempt in her voice. Maybe Thea could see things that Van couldn’t. Then again, maybe Thea had just said the wrong thing.

“The… flowers?” She looked down at the green and yellow bouquet, realizing it suddenly felt heavier than before. Like it might exhaust every muscle in her hand to keep it upright. Would Thea even want them now that she was out with somebody else? Van shrugged, “I… just thought they were nice, you know? Um, got myself flowers because my house got blown up and stuff. A consolation… or whatever.” That would make sense, right? She could skate by on that lie, because obviously Thea didn’t want her stupid flowers. She was here with the pretty redhead and Van was here alone buying flowers for… well, the girl with stars in her eyes. “Do you um… want to smell them?”

Relief sparked through Thea; the flowers were just for Van. She didn’t know what was wrong with her. Clearly, a lot of things were wrong with her, but in this particular instance, she didn’t know what was wrong with her. Van was a friend, Van should be allowed to have other friends. Shouldn’t she have been happy that Van had other friends? Instead, she was happy in some strange, giggly way, like she’d just had one glass of wine, but emotion felt distinctly artificial. It had to be; Thea was rarely happy at all. But she had been—the place her mind went now when it chased the emotion were the innocuous moments with Van: the anime girls, the half-asleep conversations, the ease she felt in following Van’s wild trains of thought just as Van followed hers. “Right. The house. I heard a house got…” Thea choked on her words; the flowers were oddly pungent. She cleared her throat. “I heard about something like that. I was worried but I didn’t think…I thought if it was something like that…” Van would have told her. Was it her fault for not checking in first? Thea made it all the way to Sly Slice before the marinara overwhelmed her and the only thing she could really do was try to accept the fact that Van wasn’t all that interested in her.

“Smell them?” Thea pushed up on her toes, trying to look over Van. Polly was gone, so far down The Common that Thea knew she’d never catch up. She frowned; Polly was her ride. Was she just going to walk back to Winter’s? Thea sighed. “Sorry, the flowers?” She finally turned her attention back on to them. “They are really pretty.” But she didn’t need to lean in to smell them. Her gaze darted between Van and the flowers and a fist curled in her stomach, punching up her throat; she swallowed uselessly over the lump. She pulled her hat from her head and held it tightly. Her hair was growing in nicely though she thought she looked like a fuzzy peach. Habitually, she tucked away a strand of hair that didn’t exist and leaned in. The flowers were awfully close to Van’s face, she thought—soft, pink features, full moon eyes and ocean wave lips. She was awfully close to Van’s face. Thea closed her eyes and took in a nose-full of green and yellow zinnias.

Up close, Thea realized the zinnias themselves smelt like nothing much, instead, the smell was overwhelmingly of cut grass; the floral notes she’d picked up seemed to come from around the flowers: the paper they were wrapped in and clinging to Van’s clothes. How long had Van spent looking at flowers? If they were just for her, would she have cared so much? Those flowers had smelled so strong just a moment ago when her attention was on Van. Did it matter? She was so happy Van was here! And that Van was okay! Even if she was a liar who totally had a new, cute friend that she was going to see. Thea pulled her head out of the flowers, opening her eyes slowly. “These aren’t actually for you, are they?” she asked, her voice hard as the lump crushed into her throat. Then, as though she hadn’t been so serious seconds ago, she broke into a wide smile. “You were staying with someone else while your house was blown up, right? Are these for them? That’s so…” Thea swallowed, perking up. “…great! Who were you with when your house blew up? It’s so wonderful that you’re getting them flowers! The sun’s so nice today. It would be such a beautiful day to walk with someone cute! Like, oh, I don’t know…a new friend.” Was Van going to meet them? Van was totally going to meet them. Who was it? Did Thea know them? Why didn’t Van tell her that she’d been replaced?

Was Thea disappointed that she hadn’t told her what happened? Van had a lot going on, between the almost getting murdered and the fact that her childhood home had blown up while she and Jade rode the motorcycle away like some kind of low budget spy flick. However, was that any excuse to leave her (totally cute) friend on read? She wasn’t sure. Van had read Thea’s last message over and over again, committing the fact that Thea never wanted to be called anything but Thea to memory— though, the reasoning made Van’s stomach churn. She wanted Thea to be Cynthia again if she wanted, but knew it was harder to accept the fact that things had changed if she wasn’t where she was supposed to be. Van wanted Thea to love Maine because Van loved Maine, and Van wanted Thea to love the things she loved, in her own way. It was selfish, for sure, and maybe love was too strong a word, but as she looked at Thea standing in front of her, all Van could feel was relief that she hadn’t been in the apartment that night; that Thea hadn’t been in any kind of danger, as it didn’t seem like the twins had tried to seek her out after the fact.

“I was going to tell you, but then… the news article released.” In Van’s defense, she hadn’t told anyone before the article released. Well, besides those in Ireland. She felt like they needed to know, because obviously this was all connected, especially if the twins had named Regan specifically. But Thea didn’t need to know all of that— she could be kept out of harm’s way if Van didn’t breathe a word of it, right? Still, it felt wrong to keep it from her. Thea deserved to know the truth just as Nora or Wynne did. Cass was an outlier here, too focused on keeping her at arm’s length; something that Van still hadn’t forgiven her for. Maybe that was selfish, too. Maybe Van was just incredibly selfish, but as she looked at Thea, she wanted to grow out of that. She wanted to share these things with her.

“Smell them,” Van echoed, pushing the flowers forward. They could’ve been prettier, Van thought. She could’ve gotten something better, but now that Thea had caught her in the act (while on somebody’s arm who, in Van’s opinion seemed totally jealous in the way she sauntered away), it felt like these were the right kinds of flowers to get. Van waited for Thea to move in, and when she did, she realized that it was like, really close. She could see the light dusting of freckles that ran themselves over Thea’s nose— could see the depth to her irises. Had her eyes always been so pretty? Van was pretty sure they always had looked like that, but this close it felt different. She nearly said something about them— nearly told Thea that she had beautiful eyes, but she was closing them and Van was left to stare at her (totally cute) friend as she smelled the flowers that were totally not for her. Van wanted them to be, though. She wanted to find the courage to tell Thea that these had been purchased because she felt bad, and because she wanted to give Thea something nice because it’d been fairly obvious she was stressed about things, right? That was what was going on?

Van waited a moment, mouth forming the words, but they were taken from her the moment Thea’s eyes snapped open and her accusations poured between them. “What?” Had Thea pinpointed that they’d been for her? Was Thea about to make fun of her for not being honest?

No, that wasn’t what was happening. Thea thought they were for somebody else. For… Jade? Right, Thea didn’t know that it’d been Jade who she’d been with. “Um— at Regan’s apartment, and then we went to my house.”

Thea was acting weird, and Van wasn’t sure why. She’d never seen her like this. She seemed insistent that Van was spending her time elsewhere, when in reality, all Van wanted to do was spend her time with the girl ahead of her. “What? No! I was with Jade, and she’s like, pretty much my sister at this point, but I’m not sure if that’s true because I’m an only child so I don’t even know what having a sister feels like, but I think that’s what it feels like, being friends with Jade.” The words came out in a slur as she pulled the flowers back. She wanted so badly to close some distance, to take Thea’s hand and put the bouquet into them, to insist that these were for her, because they were. Van wanted to be honest— wanted to be true to herself and her feelings she wasn’t sure she was allowed to have. Because what if what happened to Diana happened to Thea? What if Van wasn’t strong enough to endure another heartbreak and it all fell apart because she couldn’t control the magic?

“They were for you,” Van snapped, after a moment, overwhelmed by the feeling that she was being misinterpreted. “I got them for you. I felt bad for like, leaving you on read, but there were things happening, and I wanted to get you something nice, but you’re here with—“ She looked in the direction Polly had taken off in, but Van couldn’t even see her anymore. “They were for you.” She tightened her grip around the paper, the sound of it crinkling and snapping the delicate stems making her feel even more guilty about what was transpiring. “They are for you.” Heat rose to the back of her neck as she looked away from Thea. “My house blew up, and all I wanted to do was get you flowers. How stupid does that make me?”

It all came back to Jade. Thea knew there was something fishy about her. Jade (the gem) was beautiful and Jade (the person) was also kinda pretty but deep inside there clearly lurked an ugliness. The kind of ugliness that would usurp Thea’s spot as Van’s…friend. Her very normal friend. Jade, the friend usurper, was close enough with Van to be a sister. And where did that leave Thea? As not a sister—which did fill her with peculiar relief, she didn’t want to be Van’s sister. Sisters couldn’t…hold hands! Which was exactly what Thea had been thinking about and absolutely nothing else, nevermind her rather intense gaze localized exclusively on Van’s lips; she was a mouth reader! But despite the assurance that she could still…hold Van’s hand…she couldn’t excuse Jade completely. Thea never considered herself to be a possessive person, she liked when things were hers as much as the next anxiety-ridden human being, but she had never felt a longing desire to be the only thing that mattered to someone. Not like she did now. If only she could be sure that Van’s eyes were for her only, in a normal platonic way. She wanted Van to see her, beyond her skin and bones and inside to her spinning black hole heart—but, like, in the normal way that regular friends would look into each other’s souls. Somehow, this was all Jade’s fault; maybe it was because Jade had hair and she was bald.

Her thoughts were tangled like the overlapping braids of a cable. For as long as Thea had any awareness of herself, her mind had always been that way: one thing knotted into the next, tied to something else, bent at all the wrong angles, shot into space and gaining a mass big enough to have its own gravitational spin. If she’d been someone else, she might have asked herself what she was so jealous of. If she had ever learned how to untie one thread from the next, she would’ve realized that Van and her were talking around the same thing. Unfortunately, she was only Thea, the girl who had been a coward for much of her life and couldn’t change now. She’d told Van that she wanted to be done with pretending things were normal and okay and done with inventing new realities to soothe herself, but she wasn’t. Quietly, in the darkest place of her skull, she knew she’d never be done with that. It was always easier to run away. It was always easier to pull a new thread instead of detangling the one she had. This one said that all she was feeling were completely normal and rational platonic feelings for her cute friend Van and Thea held it tight and knew that anything else would terrify her. She was happy pretending like no other thoughts existed.

And so, it was like that that Jade really did seem like some gargantuan threat to their friendship, as if Van couldn’t have more than one friend. Despite Thea’s smile, her eye twitched. She’d have to eat Jade for this. She needed the friendship competition to be as thin as possible because she didn’t offer much. And then Van said they were for her; Thea almost missed it. With the blood rushing to her face and her heart pounding in her ears, she almost missed it. “What?” Thea’s shoulders slackened; the fog that had settled over her yarn-ball thoughts cleared out like a blown out candle. “What?” Asking again didn’t clear anything up. She blinked rapidly. Her breath turned heavy. She was happy in that way that made her sick to her stomach, in that way she felt when she watched Van get excited when her gambling on anime girls paid off (paid off in the sense that she finally got the anime girl she wanted, not that Van was actually getting any value back). Or when she smelled marinara coming from under the door and knew Van would be walking through any minute now. It was the kind of happiness she didn’t know what to do with; the running in circles, rolling in the grass kind.

“I..” Thea trailed off. “Not..” She swallowed. “Not stupid at all.” And she’d been the one being so weird that Van couldn’t even look at her. And she’d been the one so worried about Jade usurping her slot on Van’s friendship roster that she hadn’t bothered to comfort her friend at all after the loss of her house. Which she knew, more than anyone else, really fucking sucked. “Hey.” Thea slipped her hat back on her head and moved her hands over Van’s, trying to relax her tight grip. “Thank you. Really, thank you. You’re so…” Sweet? Nice? Kind? Cool? Amazing? Cute? Pretty? “So…much…a good friend.” She wasn’t even sure that made grammatical sense. Thea moved closer, closing her eyes and she leaned in and pressed her lips to Van’s temple, in what she was sure was a very platonic gesture, despite how she lingered. When she finally pulled back, she grinned brilliantly again. “I can’t believe you didn’t get purple flowers, for anime-girl-Grimace.”

It seemed like Thea’s mind was working against something, and suddenly Van wished she’d been born with mind reading abilities. Then again, she would then have to hear all of the terrible things people definitely thought of her, and how would that make living life? Not well, really. So after a moment about fantasizing about being able to figure out exactly what Thea was thinking, Van was glad that she couldn’t. What if Thea thought she was stupid for getting her the flowers? The mind panned to the redhead and her long, flowing hair. Van was almost positive that if Thea had hair, she’d want Polly’s and not hers. Van didn’t really want to give up her hair, but she’d definitely be offended if Thea took Polly’s hair over hers.

But something shifted, and it was like everything fell into place. The stupidity that she felt melted away (the ground was stable beneath her for once, so this was just a feeling and not an action— wow!)

Van watched from the corner of her eye as surprise dotted the edges of Thea’s features, watched as her earlier snarl had dissipated, replaced by something kinder. Something that stirred the butterflies in the pit of her own stomach. Her skin was vibrating as Thea seemingly heard what Van had said. It was all out in the open now, and there was no taking it back. If she pretended, if she acted like it was a joke, then what good would that do? It’d do nothing, and they’d be back where they were moments ago. She shouldn’t have been here, begging for Thea to take the flowers she had purchased. She should’ve been talking to the bank about her house, or calling her grandmother (who definitely wouldn’t pick up), or something that mattered in the moment, but all Van wanted to do was be with and near Thea. To give her something after so much had been taken from the both of them.

She had thought about how being in public after being hunted by the banshees could’ve been considered dangerous, but Jade wasn’t confined to the cabin, so she refused to be. Van stood across from Thea, gaze moving slowly over the other girl’s hand as it came to close over top of hers. The tension she’d been holding in both her shoulders and jaw relaxed as soon as the pads of Thea’s fingers smoothed over the back of her hand. Van loosened the grip on the bouquet, not enough to let them fall to the ground, but to keep from crushing them any further. The embarrassment she felt morphed into something else— or maybe it was still embarrassment, just a different flavor. This one felt like kicking sand on a playground during the send off from a swing set and not making the landing on your feet. It was better than the embarrassment of the black hole sucking her to the depths of the earth, that was for sure.

Thea moved closer before Van could process it. The feeling of the other girl’s lips at her temple sent static cascading over her skin. The hair at the back of her neck stood on end in anticipation for what might come next, but it was nothing— so much a good friend. It made perfect sense. Van could decipher it. That was Thea telling her she was a good friend, and that was what she was. Was Polly looking at them now? Would Polly yell at Thea after this? Tell her that she was giving Van too much hope? Hope for what, though? Van couldn’t rationalize what she wanted from Thea, just that she wanted the bald girl who talked about stars and constellations to take her stupid flowers and look at her like she was worth something. But that’s what was happening, right?

Disappointment colored Van’s features as soon as Thea moved away, only to be replaced by minor annoyance. “You know why I didn’t. It’s because of that.” She pointed at Thea with her free hand, swallowing down the embarrassment as it rose in her again (black hole style). Her heart hadn’t quite calmed down, and Van was almost positive that she could still feel Thea’s lips at her temple; could commit it to memory. Wanted to, even. She desperately clung to the feeling and the thoughts it brought with it, warding off the black hole embarrassment and vying for the kind that would make her squeal into her pillow later.

It took her a moment to realize she hadn’t said much else, and Van was left to clear her throat, tucking her hair behind her ears that burned bright red. “So do you um, do you— want them? Or…” She looked down at the flowers that had lost their weight— all of the weight from the situation had gone to her head, causing the right side of her face to grow numb. It was like her skin was trying to absorb what had happened. “If you don’t, I—“ Would Polly make her throw them out? “Who’s Polly? Is she…” Van looked past Thea to where Polly had disappeared to. “Is she waiting for you?” Couldn’t I be waiting for you instead, Van didn’t finish, holding the words like a capsizing boat at the back of her tongue.

Something strange happened then: Thea didn’t want to stop touching Van. Though she should have moved her hands away, she kept them on Van’s. And though she’d just touched her lips to Van’s head—she wasn’t going to use the k-word, it was too heavy—she wanted to do it again. She felt like she’d just crawled out of a blanket on a cold night, every muscle told her to go back in. She couldn’t lip-touch her forehead again—don’t say it, don’t say it—so she lined up an array of other gestures that were almost it, almost the thing she was thinking about. Thea nudged Van’s bicep with her elbow—don’t let go of her hands, you won’t be able to take them again. “Teasing is my love-language, Van. You should know that by now,” Thea said, coating her words with the lightness she felt in her chest. Then that word—the L one—sunk down into her throat and tightened like a hungry snake. Love-languages were bullshit anyway, and whatever, so what? She didn’t mean anything by it. But it also wasn’t entirely true; teasing had been Cynthia’s love language.

Cynthia was the one that teased her friends, because expressions of affection felt wrong on her tongue and she was always too awkward to make them work anyway. It was that bite no one expected from her; the thumbs thrust into an orange, juice spilling out. Peel back the skin and there’s the girl who liked a good joke when she wasn’t worried about being annoying, who could demonstrate how well she knew someone by their mundanities—pithy and fleshy. Thea didn’t have a love language; that would have implied she was deserving of the big L thing. Maybe Cynthia would’ve had something else to say, but Thea didn’t. And whatever, she really didn’t mean anything by it; it was another dumb thing in the galaxy of dumb things Thea said. Pay no attention to the dumb words behind the curtain, or something. Forget the tangled web of Cynthia that sat inside Thea’s writhing one. Though Van had already done it, Thea reached out and tucked phantom hair bachind Van’s burning red ears. Spring allergies were a real menace! They certainly made Van blush a lot. Her hands returned to their place on top of Van’s.

“Polly?” The mention of the red-head jerked Thea; she glanced over Van’s head. No, Polly was well and truly gone. She knew it was generous to say she was Polly’s friend, and in the interest of being honest, she couldn’t tell Van that she was. “Polly’s a…” But it was kinda embarrassing to say that Polly definitely hated her, and tolerated her for some unknown reasons. She regularly said things like ‘I’m going to turn you into plant food’ and ‘humans are temporary, plants will be forever’ and ‘to be clear when I say I’m going to turn you into plant food I mean I’m going to kill you’ in that quirky, Polly way of hers; Thea didn’t exactly get her sense of humor. “Just someone I know.” She shrugged. “We, uh, hang out sometimes. Y’know, do…things.” But she also couldn’t tell Van that Polly mostly just drove her around, because then Van would offer her car and sweat trickled down her back at the idea of being in a tight space with Van. “A-adult things.” What she meant was that she did Polly’s taxes and laundry and helped her pay bills, as though these were all things that were completely new to her, but in the interest of honest dishonesty, Thea didn’t consider what it sounded like.

“I do want the flowers,” Thea said. But if she took them, then she’d have no reason to keep holding Van’s hands—don’t let go. So despite saying she wanted them, she kept them in Van’s hands. “She’s not waiting for…” But if she said that, what would they do? Would Van stay with her? Could they take the day and turn it into something good? Or could she, for once in her stupid life, be actually responsible? She’d had a reason for thinking moving out of the apartment was a good idea and it wasn’t so she could be selfish now. She’d been given a very reasonable escape; yes, Polly was waiting for her—say it, say it. The tiny black hole inside of her, always spinning, was getting hungry. One year since the bite and she knew well enough what happened once it grew. All she had to do was say it and shouldn’t it have been so easy? A coward was her default classification. But she was happy, and it was hard to turn away from something so rare.

Releasing one hand from its place on Van’s, Thea brought it to Van’s face again. This time, she rested her palm against Van’s warm cheek. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed down a different conversation. “She is,” she said, “and she’s not very patient.” That part, at least, was true. “So, I should probably…” Thea dropped her hand from Van’s face and scooped the flowers into her arms. “It was nice seeing you and I’m so glad that you’re okay and…” Her throat bobbed again. She lifted the zinnias up. “Thank you for these, and thank you for…” How many times was she going to shove different words away? “I think I like it more like this,” she said, “flowers and wood and honey and amber—when you come back from a shift, the marinara is overpowering. I think I like it more when it’s mostly Van. When it’s all Van.” She held the flowers tighter to her chest. “I think I like Van. I think I like Van a lot.” She swallowed. “The smell, I mean.”

What did that really mean, though? What did a love language mean when it came from Thea? Van stared at her, not quite sure what to say back. She wanted to say something. Knew she should say something, but no words came out of her mouth. Maybe she should have teased Thea back, should’ve told her it was hers, too, and this was all a big joke. The cherry on top would’ve been the flowers that both her’s and Thea’s hands were closed around. Why wasn’t Thea letting go? Maybe she felt guilty about being upset by the idea that they’d been for somebody else, and maybe Thea just felt bad that her house blew up. Van wasn’t sure why Thea wasn’t letting go, but she really didn’t want her to. She wanted to feel Thea’s hand on hers, didn’t want her to let go, but knew that she should– knew that she would, because Thea had finally understood her as a person and decided to leave. That was what happened, right? It had been her? It had to have been. “Okay,” Van stammered out, the words slipping like oil over her tongue. It wasn’t what she had wanted to say at all, but it was all that’d come out when in a reflection to Thea’s love language. Maybe it wasn’t that serious, and maybe Van was thinking too much into it.

Thea touched her again in a way that mattered, and Van felt the blush deepen, could feel it scatter over the bridge of her nose. Her breath got stuck in her throat, and it wasn’t until she looked away from Thea’s eyes could she remember how to do so. Why was she acting like this? Thea was just a cute friend who paid attention to her and nothing more. There was nothing here, not in the way she wanted. However, Van wasn’t certain that she deserved to want to feel anything, especially within proximity of Thea. The last time she had cared for somebody like this (which she wasn’t even sure was real!), an argument had drawn that person to the depths of whatever hellish creature she had reimagined. Would the same happen to Thea? God, she was so toxic; pulling up demons to take care of her problems for her. She really needed to learn how to control it. Not just for Thea, but for everyone who might succumb to the power she held within. The last thing she wanted to do was open up another portal on people who didn’t deserve it.

Polly? Polly? Polly? Polly? Polly? Polly? Polly? Polly? Polly? Polly? Polly? Polly?

Van took care to listen now, to pick apart the cadence of Thea’s voice as she spoke about the redhead who hadn’t cast a second glance back after leaving the two of them to argue over the (unjustly) murdered flowers. Van still felt bad about that— that she had killed something (again), even if she hadn’t pulled them from the ground herself. She’d be more mindful about flowers from now on, that was for sure. As soon as Thea began to explain who Polly was to her, the wires crossed themselves, tangling into an unrecognizable, festering snake. Y’know, do things. What did that mean? Did Polly play Honkai, too? Did Thea watch over Polly’s shoulder as she tried for her favorite characters that came back into rotation? Would Thea cheer her on, too? Adult things? Van’s mind could’ve gone to something slightly less safe for work, but it sprang over to the idea that they got meals together; cooked together— even cleaned the apartment while blasting Olivia Rodrigo together. Was this who Thea was staying with? Had she been so easily replaced? Of course she had been. Her grandmother probably found some new grandchild, too, that she hadn’t even known about. One who didn’t cry and didn’t have magic and didn’t talk back. Of course Thea would do the same. Of course.

She hadn’t realized it, but she was holding her breath again. “Oh, she sounds… nice.” That was the opposite of what she wanted to say. Horrible, she sounds horrible. But Van didn’t want to be mean, didn’t want to be the jealous— jealous, what? They were just friends. Good friends! Cute friends! She definitely didn’t feel anything for Thea. No way! This was all just a weird friendly misunderstanding, interwoven with jealousy and… something else. Embarrassment, most definitely. “I’m glad you get to um, do adult things together.” She thought of Olivia Rodrigo blasting through Regan’s apartment as she knelt down with the dustpan as Thea navigated the broken bottle of vanilla into it. She bit the inside of her cheek, pushing the thoughts away. What did they clean up together? Polly looked like the kind of girl who liked kale shakes. It was probably that. Did Thea hate that? Or did she like it? Maybe Van should drink kale shakes.

Her mind snapped from the make believe kitchen to Thea who was speaking again. She needed to talk more, too, didn’t she? God, Thea must’ve been so bored standing in front of her. She was probably thinking of all the conversations she could be having with Polly right now, and instead she was stuck here.

Suddenly, the flowers held a weight of their own and Van felt her hand sinking slightly, Thea’s still enclosed around it. She’d help support it, wouldn’t she? Even if the embarrassment engrained itself in her muscles and made her incapable of doing these kinds of things— like holding up a bouquet of flowers for the pretty girl with the pretty smile and the peach fuzz hair. Did Thea know she looked good bald? Van wanted to tell her. “You can take them, I already um— I already said that they are yours.” The words came out naturally, surprisingly enough. They didn’t slur together, mixed messages splintered across each single vowel. Instead, it was what she actually meant! She wanted Thea to have the flowers! God, she was so good at this talking thing.

Thea’s hand came to plant itself against her cheek, and Van’s mind scrambled again. Could Thea feel the heat that was radiating off of the side of her face? Would Thea think that she was sick? Would Thea try and take care of her? Thea couldn’t come to the cabin, no way— it was full of weapons, and Snickers, and Jade was still hurt. I’m not sick, by the way. The words didn’t manage to slip from between her lips, because Thea was talking again, and the way she spoke made it seem like Thea was going to leave her. That was okay! Friends left each other all of the time, didn’t they? Cass had left her, too, standing outside of her cave with an arm full of comics. Well, she hadn’t left her, but it felt like it that day.

Van was almost positive that even after Thea had dropped her hand, she’d still be able to memorize the way she pressed each pad of her finger into her skin. She’d try to recreate it with her own hand once she was home, but her hands were much smaller and stubbier than Thea’s and she knew it wouldn’t feel the same. But that’d be weird to do, anyway, because they were friends, and friends didn’t do that kind of stuff. But, at least Thea took the flowers. Thea took the flowers, and Van watched her do it— and in that moment, she realized she looked a lot more beautiful with them than she had imagined she would. Would Polly make her throw them out? Probably. But at least Thea had taken them! That was a win for her, wasn’t it? Her friend had taken her flowers, even after the misunderstanding. Only her flowers, and nothing else! Not her heart along with it!

“Yeah, you should totally go and catch up with her.” Van’s throat felt scratchy and she tried to get the words out in a way that wouldn’t allude to the jealousy or embarrassment she felt. The flowers were gone from her hands, though, and the feeling was dimming down. Maybe because Thea had finally taken them, and that was a signal to something. “You’re totally welcome!” She was saying totally too much, but it was sort of her catchphrase at this point, wasn’t it? “I’m glad I’m— you’re okay, too.” She smiled, and this time it felt real— less like she was being pulled at by a fishing hook, but that the muscles in her own face had cooperated into giving her something real. Thea kept speaking even though she should’ve been leaving, and Van was left frozen with what the words could’ve actually meant. Surely she meant the smell! Yeah, that made more sense. Thea liked to smell things— always talked about it! Liked to talk about all of the soaps she had, and Van could always see the soaps she had in the bathroom at Regan’s.

(She was always careful not to use Thea’s soaps, because she wanted to smell Thea when Thea was using them, not—)

“Yeah, I mean, they like, most definitely make um, car air fresheners in Van scent, I’m almost positive of it.” At that moment, she had referred to herself like the car, but it didn’t matter. Thea told her she smelled good, and she liked it better without the marinara, and Van was glad. Van was happy! She stood across from Thea, marionette strings pulling her to put a hand on Thea’s shoulders. “I hope you enjoy Polly, and the flowers!” That wasn’t what she meant. She only wanted Thea to enjoy the flowers.

“But um, I’ve gotta— there are insurance people I gotta talk to. Gotta get my bag, you know? So I’ll uh, see you around, Thea!” With that, Van turned around, red in the face to saunter off to anywhere but the insurance people.

#para: z for zinnia!#para: thea #wickedswriting

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howdomaddie · 21 days

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on sora’s time in the sleeping worlds and coming to terms with other’s pain

so, i have recently been rewatching the kingdom hearts series through a youtube channel i follow that’s played through all the games, and i just finished dream drop distance in that rewatch. the player had quite a bit to say about the overall plot of that game, and that seems to fall in line with how i’ve seen a lot more people than i thought view DDD as well--that it’s not that great? i totally get being frustrated with the real organization shenanigans because the planned time travel was a bit much but…idk, i’ve never really been into KH for the villains and their schemes. DDD has always kind of been one of my favorites, so as i was rewatching this playthrough of it, i was thinking over why it gets the flack it does, and why i still think it’s good beyond that.

i’ve always loved riku’s arc, and i loved sora in DDD, but i was honestly “meh” on it until this current rewatch, when i was thinking over it all again, and remembering what had happened most recently to him. and now i think i’ve cracked it--i figured out a nice little piece for why sora’s arc works even if it’s subtle.

and…bear with me here…but it’s partially because of re:coded

STAY WITH ME, I PROMISE I HAVE A POINT!!! it’s below the cut since this will be long, but hear me out: sora in DDD is going through the same things that data sora did in re:coded, and proving that he will always come to the same conclusion about how to handle the pain the others in his heart have gone through (maybe someone’s discussed all of this before, so sorry if i’m just rehashing a well-known point, but…wanted to share my thoughts, haha)

okay. so, in order to really talk about this, let’s revisit what are probably the most important sections of re:coded, and what they do well on a story-telling level.

in the last quarter or so of re:coded, data sora is brought back to help mickey and co find the meaning of the second message that’s appeared in jiminy’s journal: “Their hurting will be mended when you return to end it.” data sora ends up arriving at an illusion of castle oblivion, and is goaded along by a data version of roxas to go deeper into the castle. this data roxas taunts him about how he’ll never remember the people data sora encounters in each part of the castle, poking and prodding him along through all the revisited worlds.

in one of the earliest rooms (destiny islands i think), data sora has a conversation with the data version of riku that has been helping us so far. data riku shows him a vision of riku and kairi from the events of KH1, with the warning that it’s something data riku wants data sora to see and feel. afterwards, data riku asks what data sora would have done if he’d known this. and data sora answers immediately:

[ ID: an image of data sora from kingdom hearts re:coded. he has a determined expression on his face, and his clenching his fist as a show of conviction. the subtitles read: I would’ve helped you, of course. Both of you! I’d’ve figured out how to undo the hurt. End ID. ]

data riku seems pleased with this outcome, and he eventually goes on to say: “Just follow your heart, and you can change the lives of not one, but many.” as data sora goes deeper into this version of castle oblivion, he only comes across more pain in his heart as he forgets the people he meets. he may forget the people themselves, but the doesn’t forget that he met someone as he goes through the castle.

[ ID: four images from kingdom hearts re:coded. data sora looks sad and pensive as he says this to data roxas, placing a hand over his heart: “It’s like you said; everyone I met I can’t remember. But still, I’m frustrated that I’ve forgotten them. I feel moments of loneliness. You said there would be no hurt feelings, but I AM hurting. When the memories are gone, they just leave a hole. And having that longing inside me hurts.” End ID. ]

data roxas eventually confronts data sora about what he’s come to terms with in the castle: that some of that pain he’s feeling is what helps him connect with others, to truly empathize with them. data roxas sees this as a sign that data sora passed his test, to see if he could come to terms with the pain in the hearts he’s most closely connected to.

data namine soon confirms that the real sora carries around a lot of pain that isn’t his own inside his heart--and that he’s found a way to face the suffering all of this disparate parts of himself had to endure. he’s already equipped to face it and help those he’s met that have been lost.

something that i think i’ve come to appreciate more is that as he’s gotten older, sora has ended up becoming really emotionally intelligent. he’s an extremely empathetic character, and kind of always has been. after all, he gave a piece of himself to someone to fix their broken heart when he was still an infant.

[ ID: an image from kingdom hearts birth by sleep. a four year old sora looks upset as he holds ventus’s heart in his hands and asks, “Are you sad?” ]

we all know that his empathy and ability to connect emotionally to others is kind of sora’s whole “thing”--his friends are his power! but it makes sense that sora’s able to face the pain and suffering characters like xion and ven went through because he is such an open and caring person.

anyway, there’s another thing from re:coded that struck me as i was thinking over what sora goes through in DDD, and i think it’s critical. it’s the instructions namine gives for how to handle the pain of others that sora is holding onto.

[ ID: three screenshots of data namine and data sora from kingdom hearts re:coded. data namine explains to data sora: “There’s only one way to deal with that [pain]; you face it head-on and then you accept it. And if it happens that the hurt is too great for you to bear it alone, well, then you turn to a friend close to your heart.” End ID. ]

this is less a “do this thing for the first time” to me--it’s data namine reinforcing something that data sora (and the real sora, obviously) already knows very well. there is strength to be found in the bonds you share, and that if you need it, you can always rely on the friends you’ve made. this was made apparently through the entire series but this serves as a reminder that yes, sora has been doing the best thing he can. he has remained true to his heart, and is willing to rely on those he cares about. we know that being alone and only relying on yourself is not the best thing to do in the series--it’s part of what drives riku to darkness in KH1--so that’s why this is a reassurance that sora already knows how to face this sort of pain.

so. WHAT on earth does this have to do with dream drop distance, you might be asking. well, part of that is inspired by this lets player i was rewatching (it’s dan form playframe, by the way, in case you’re wondering): he liked the general themes being played with at the end of re:coded, but was upset it was not happening to actual sora. and that stuck with me as i got to DDD in my rewatch, and that’s how i viewed sora’s stuff in that game.

anyway. let’s dive (ha) in, shall we?

at the end of re:coded, king mickey writes that letter in a bottle that gets to sora in the post credits of KH2 to explain what they discovered in the data version of jiminy’s journal. sora knows now that he’s the thread that will save people like roxas and xion and aqua, and he knows what data namine was wanting him to eventually face.

at the start of DDD, sora is aware that he needs to face the pain of others that is currently residing in his heart and find a way to save those that have been lost. he is primed with that knowledge, and likely wants to face it the way data sora did.

why do i think this? well…i think that the mark of mastery exam in DDD was really a chance for sora and riku to come to terms with what is still somewhat holding them back in their hearts, and do perform some true introspection.

we know how riku’s arc goes: he finally realizes that he does have the power to protect what matters to him, and that darkness in his heart is not something to fear. it does not make him any less worthy to wield a keyblade, nor does it keep him from being a keyblade master.

[ ID: a screenshot from kingdom hearts dream drop distance of riku and sora. sora’s arm is slung over riku’s shoulder and he is beaming. riku doesn’t seem to believe what he’s saying: “Really? I’m a Keyblade Master?” ]

but what about sora? outside of Overall Series Plot happening to him in this game and the contrived reason he isn’t also named a master, what does sora come to realize? well, it’s what data namine wanted for him: to face the pain inside him head on, and to rely on those close to his heart when he couldn’t do it alone.

what do i mean by this? let’s go world by world to see.

starting with hunchback, since we visit traverse town twice:

[ ID: a screenshot from kingdom hearts dream drop distance of sora, who is looking at the camera. he appears thoughtful as he says of quasimodo: “He can’t let his heart be a prison.” ]

sora realizes that quasimodo is putting up walls in his heart that keep him from being hurt--walls that, in turn, are becoming something of a “prison”. they’re what keep quasimodo safe, but also keep him disconnected from others and is an excuse for why he doesn’t leave notre dame cathedral.

at the end of sora’s time in this world, quasimodo has opened himself to others, and decides to not keep his fears from holding him back. as sora processes this information, of course, we have the villains telling him that his own heart is now a prison for someone else--ventus.

i don’t think this is true for sora and ven’s situation, and that the organization is just trying to make sora question himself. sora welcomed ven into his heart willingly to keep ven safe--it’s been a very long time, yes, and sora will eventually need to help ven return to his body, but sora’s heart isn’t exactly a prison. he just doesn’t really know that he still has ven with him, since he probably didn’t know what happened with ven when he was little.

so this is something sora still has to come to terms with: is his heart a prison for someone else? how does he set them free?

after hunchback, we have the grid and prankster’s paradise, and these should be easy enough to figure out.

[ ID: a screenshot from kingdom hearts dream drop distance of sora and quorra. sora is holding quorra back from attacking, and quorra says to sora of rinzler (originally sora’s friend tron), “He’s a program, Sora. Programs don’t have hearts.” End ID. ]

the grid for sora is all about his relationship to tron and making rinzler remember who he truly is. quorra is pretty quick to throw in the towel on sora’s attempts to reach his friend’s heart, but sora keeps trying--and eventually, he does manage to have a breakthrough. he helps tron fight off his reprogramming, and remember their friendship. he’s able to touch tron’s heart and remind him of what’s important--he just has to give tron the time he needs, and eventually help reprogram him.

my, that sounds familiar, doesn’t it?

[ ID: a screenshot from kingdom hearts three of sora, xion, and axel. sora has his hand on xion’s keyblade, and is persuading her not to hurt her friend axel--trying to remind her of who she really is. ]

there’s one quote from the jeff bridges character that i feel is important to note here: “That’s the thing about programs. Mess with the code just a little, and their whole nature and memory can change.”

sora’s time in the grid helps him understand a bit more of what “copies” of him can be going through, and honestly is an important part of why he is able to help xion and roxas in 3 (at least to me). xion’s suffering is tied to how the organization used and abused her, and them tampering with her memories is why she starts off on their side in 3. but sora, good boy that he is, manages to break through to her with a little help from roxas--just like he needed the right thing to reprogram rinzler and help him remember that he was tron all along.

as for prankster’s paradise…

[ ID: a screenshot from kingdom hearts dream drop distance of sora and xemnas confronting each other. sora looks determined as he exclaims, “But if Pinocchio could be given one (a heart)--shouldn’t you be able to have a heart inside you, too?” End ID. ]

the fact that nobodies do actually have hearts is confirmed towards the end of the game, but it’s clear sora has already figured it out on his own. i’ll touch on it a little more later on, but sora knows that roxas has his own heart, living on inside his own--it’s a reminder of how roxas still exists, and how much of his own person he is outside of sora.

xemnas is still putting on the show here that nobodies are beings without hearts, and sora knows that is blatantly untrue--why else would roxas feel the things he did if that was the case?

the other three worlds--traverse town, the country of musketeers, and the symphony of sorcery--do the same thing that data namine did in re:coded. they reinforce the things sora already knows about connecting with others, and relying on their strength when he can’t do things alone.

[ ID: a screenshot from kingdom hearts dream drop distance of sora talking to neku in traverse town. when talking about neku denying that he said he needed shiki, sora says, “What? Why? You said you need her. That’s a good thing.” End ID. ]

sora says it directly to neku in the revisit to traverse town: it’s good that neku admitted to needing shiki around. sora has always trusted in people to rely on him and to return the favor, so he sees none of the shame that neku feels in admitting that he needs other people.

[ ID: a screenshot from kingdom hearts dream drop distance of mickey and donald. mickey looks to the camera as he says, “Goofy’s right. As a team, we can do anything!” End ID. ]

the recurring musketeer motto of “All for one, and one for all!” when sora joins mickey, donald, and goofy in protecting princess minnie is another reminder of all this: sora knows the true value of teamwork with his party members, and how important donald and goofy are to him. they are his friends for life, and they’ll be at his side the way he’s at theirs. he reassures them the way they reassure him and always have.

[ ID: a screenshot from kingdom hearts dream drop distance of sora, looking wistful as he talks about riku: “Don’t worry. I’ve got a friend out there who will help. He’s always picking up the slack for me.” End ID. ]

sora’s belief in riku is something that’s shown throughout the entire game, and the symphony of sorcery is just one example in truth--but sora has never doubted riku or even kairi and the others. even if he can’t see riku, even if his friends are a million miles away, sora knows that they have his back.

[ ID: a screenshot from kingdom hearts dream drop distance of sora in traverse town, looking happy and patting his chest as he says of riku, “Don’t worry. He’s with me--even when it might seem like he’s not.” End ID. ]

for the Overall Series Plot happening in DDD, this is very good for sora to remember--riku becomes a dream eater to protect sora in this game, so it’s quite literal. (i think it’s also important to remember this when thinking about the ending of kh3, and where sora has found himself. he still has people who love and care for him, even if they’re a million worlds apart from each other.)

and so, now we come to the heart of the matter. has sora ended up in the same place as data sora? can he accept the pain the different pieces of him went through, and help them? as of kh3’s ending we know he’s helped them, but what about DDD?

[ ID: three screenshots from kingdom hearts dream drop distance of sora and xion. sora asks who xion is, but trails off before he finishes asking. in the final shot, sora sheds a tear over xion. End ID. ]

sora does come face to face with namine and xion, and while he doesn’t connect with them, really, he does seem to feel their pain.

the most apparent interaction that leaves its mark is, of course, when he faces roxas.

[ ID: screenshots from kingdom hearts dream drop distance of sora speaking to roxas, saying, “Roxas, you’re you. We’re not the same. I wanted to tell you that.” End ID. ]

because sora is fully aware that roxas has his own heart, sora can firmly insist that roxas is his own person. roxas respects this, and opens his heart to sora, to share the truly terrible things that happened to him. and sora faces it, the way he needs to.

[ ID: a screenshot from kingdom hearts dream drop distance of sora, where sora looks angry and upset about what happened to roxas. He clenches his fist, and asks, “Did they cause all this pain?” End ID. ]

sora has faced at least roxas’s pain and suffering, at least. and he’s ready to do the same for the others in his heart--or, at least, that’s what i believe.

when riku encounters ansem the wise in sora’s heart at the end of the game, what ansem says is something i think kind of ties everything together:

“That is a statement to the love in his heart for other people, and the bonds that tie them together. Perhaps…he has the power to bring back the hearts and existences of those connected to him--to recreate people we thought were lost to us forever. [ … ] Sora has a heart like that--uncorrupted, willing to see the good before the bad. When he sees the heart in something, it then becomes real. When a connection seems broken, he may have the power to mend it. [ … ] He has touched countless hearts, he has accepted them, and he has saved them. [ … ] All Sora needs to do is be himself and follow wherever it is that his heart takes him. It is the best and only way.”

after the opening section of kh3 in olympus colosseum, what’s the thing that sets sora off on his journey?

[ ID: a screenshot from kingdom hearts three of sora, donald, goofy, and jiminy cricket in the gummi ship cockpit. sora looks determined as he says, “The others are following Aqua’s heart, so I’ll follow Roxas’s heart!” End ID. ]

his desire for roxas to truly be his own person. so many people move mountains to make this a reality not just for roxas, but for xion and namine too--all because sora understood that roxas had his own heart, memories, and history. he saw roxas’s suffering and still pushed through to make sure his nobody got the life he deserved.

sora faced what he could, and did everything in his power to undo the suffering the people connected to him were feeling--and when he couldn’t do it himself, he let others help him. just the way namine (and her creation, data namine) wanted.

im sorry this is so long and kind of rambly--but i feel like i finally get sora in DDD outside of the organization’s plans for him, and that the off hand comment from this lets play i’m rewatching actually ended up being true. if you made it this far down in this silly post thanks for reading, hope you're having a good day ;u;

#kingdom hearts #kingdom hearts meta #sora kingdom hearts #THIS IS LONG IM SO SORRY #I ALSO HAVE NO IDEA WHAT TO TAG IT...#dream drop distance #re:coded #kh ddd #kh 3d #kh recoded

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