idk if this is what the drama was trying to say but the gender of it all was very loud to me. men will tie themselves in knots over womens' real and imagined transgressions, while themselves living in a world where violence and impulsivity and gaslighting and infidelity is not only acceptable but the norm. men will be saved by second chances over and over and over and over again. a woman is no more than an idea that, once tarnished, can never be salvaged
i haven’t seen anyone on here talk about The Drama but the number of people i’ve seen elsewhere say Emma’s “crime” of planning a school shooting and NOT GOING THROUGH WITH IT is worse than Rachel locking a disabled child in an RV (at least overnight but also potentially forever, which is traumatic at the least and murder at the worst) is fucking bonkers. you can’t punish people for thought crimes. you can’t punish people for something they never did, especially if it’s fifteen years after the fact. and Emma became an anti gun activist. like there are huge theses in this film about how 1. supporting marginalized and bullied children by giving them a sense of community WILL prevent crime/death and 2. a crime that’s never committed isn’t a crime. and neither of those things are even what i think the movie is about???? it’s that post about how leftists think that doing nothing wrong is more important than doing one thing right. Emma never hurt anyone besides herself and everyone is out here saying she’s the villian. the film isn’t a window, it’s a mirror
The thing that really touched me was how alone Emma was. Her parents didn't seem to be around if we got by her memories, they kinda looked neglectful tbh. Her mais of honor was her husband's best friend wife. We don't see her interacting with anyone else besides her boss and to talk about work. Meanwhile Charlie had 3 different people to discuss the situation. She only had him. And that was the first time she ever talked to someone about it and it was awful.
it's infuriating how the GAP ad was a perfect group-defining jump into the mainstream but every single thing since then has been the biggest fumble from their team
dunno if ur taking requests or smth but I had an idea 🫶🏼
Joe dating a girl with a whimsical style and personality (maybe slightly shyer too) and Joe is seen out with her or seen at his concert and they spread some jealous and judgemental hate over her whimsy style
but Joe thinks his girl is so cool and slams the haters!!! (or something idk)
(lil angst and fluff?)
whimsical princess
joe keery x reader
val speaks - i think i accidentally made this kinda more 'weird' reader i got carried away ooops so i can sooo totally do smth diff if u would like but yes
word count: 988
the pictures come out on a thursday morning.
you don’t even know at first. you’re still half asleep, sitting cross-legged on joe’s couch in one of his old t-shirts, hair messy, flipping through a little notebook you carry around for no real reason other than you like writing strange thoughts in it.
joe’s in the kitchen making coffee when his phone starts buzzing against the counter.
then buzzing again.
and again.
“jesus” he mutters, glancing at the screen.
you look up. “someone dying?”
“hopefully not” he says, but his brows pull together a little.
you go back to your notebook, drawing little stars around a sentence that doesn’t make much sense. outside the windows the morning is gray and soft and quiet.
joe scrolls for a minute.
then he exhales through his nose.
“what?” you ask, looking up again.
he hesitates. which already tells you something’s wrong.
“paparazzi caught us yesterday,” he says carefully. “when we were leaving that bookstore.”
you blink. “oh.”
it takes you a second to remember. you’d been wearing the long green coat with the too-big sleeves and those strange boots you found at a thrift store. your hair was in two messy braids because you didn’t feel like brushing it properly. joe had your hand the whole time.
it had felt normal.
you reach for your phone.
joe immediately says, softer, “hey, you don’t have to-”
but you’ve already opened it.
the pictures are everywhere.
you and joe on the sidewalk. you mid-laugh at something he said. your coat swinging around your legs. his hand on the back of your neck like he does when he’s guiding you through a crowd.
and then the comments.
most of them aren’t outright cruel just… that tone.
she looks weird.
is that what he’s into now?
she dresses like a toddler in a thrift store.
lowkey jealous but also… why her?
you stare at the screen a little too long.
your chest does that quiet sinking thing you hate. the one that makes you feel small for caring but also unable not to.
joe notices immediately.
he’s already walking over, setting the coffee down without looking.
“hey” he says gently.
you lock your phone and shrug like it’s nothing. “people are just… talking.”
“yeah,” he says flatly. “they are.”
you try to smile but it comes out crooked. “i knew that coat was questionable.”
joe’s expression changes instantly.
not angry at you, never at you. just protective in that quiet, solid way he gets.
he crouches in front of the couch so he’s eye level with you, hands resting lightly on your knees.
“don’t do that” he says.
“do what?”
“pretend it doesn’t bother you if it does.”
you pick at the thread on his sleeve.
“i mean,” you mumble, “i am kind of… odd.”
joe lets out a small incredulous laugh.
“you’re not odd,” he says. “you’re interesting. there’s a difference.”
you shrug again.
he studies your face for a second, then reaches up and gently tucks a loose braid behind your ear.
“look at me” he says softly.
“you are literally the coolest person i know,” he says. “you carry a notebook around full of weird little thoughts, you find music i’ve never heard, you wear whatever the hell you want because you actually like it. you make my life way less boring.”
you huff a tiny laugh despite yourself.
“that’s a low bar.”
“no,” he says firmly. “it’s not.”
his thumb brushes under your eye even though you’re not crying.
“people see one photo and think they know something,” he continues. “they don’t know you. they don’t know the way you talk to stray cats like they’re old friends or how you fall asleep halfway through movies and insist you were still watching.”
“i was watching” you mutter.
“sure you were.”
you finally smile a little.
he leans forward and presses a soft kiss to your forehead, lingering there.
“they’re the weird ones” he murmurs.
you wrap your arms around his shoulders, hiding your face in his neck.
he hugs you back immediately, squeezing you tight.
“you’re my favourite person” he adds quietly into your hair.
for a while you just sit like that on the couch while the coffee gets cold.
later that afternoon joe is lying across the bed scrolling through his phone again.
you’re on the floor by the window, absentmindedly sketching something that might be a mushroom or might be a lamp.
he sighs.
“okay” he says.
you glance up.
“i’m posting something.”
you squint at him. “joe-”
“nope,” he says. “i’ve decided.”
you go back to your sketch. “please don’t start internet wars on my behalf.”
“too late.”
a few minutes later his post goes up.
just a picture he took a few weeks ago of you sitting on his kitchen counter, wearing mismatched socks and holding a mug with both hands, smiling at something off camera.
the caption reads:
some of you need hobbies.
that girl you’re being rude about is the most interesting, kind, creative person i know. she’s cooler than all of us combined and she doesn’t even try.
if you think her style or vibe is “weird” that honestly sounds like a you problem. she's my whimsical princess.
leave her alone.
you stare at it.
then look up at him.
“joe.”
he looks over the edge of the bed. “yeah?”
he watches your face carefully.
“too much?” he asks.
you shake your head.
“no,” you say quietly. “it’s… really nice.”
he grins a little.
“good.”
you stand up and climb onto the bed beside him, curling into his side.
he automatically wraps an arm around you, pulling you close.
“you’re still weird though” he says after a second.
you gasp. “rude.”
“the best kind” he corrects, kissing the top of your head.
and when you hide your smile against his shirt, he just holds you tighter like it’s the easiest thing in the world.
rest assured every fic prefaced "english is not my first language" will be the juiciest, most poetic, life altering piece of fanfiction you will ever read. you know who you are. and we thank you for your service.
