#hurt that this was a dream sequence

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

"See you tomorrow"

MDZS Disco Elysium AU part 4 [prev parts]

[imminent-danger-came]

A hypothetical scenario where MK was the one to kill the pilgrims in a past life, and what a conversation post that reveal might look like.

[rainbowpufflez]

Wip (finished now posted here!)

Been listening to this song and thinking about them too much

[smolghostbot]

GT July: Dream / Memory

Posting this early since I'm not going to be able to on the actual day for Dream. Decided to get borderline experimental with these prompts, since it gave me a kind of interesting way to give details of Patch's backstory (they can't exactly... tell it themself, y'know?)

Word Count: 1k Character bios in my pinned post

⚠️hoo HECKIN boy here we go with the content warning list⚠️ Whump, the whole thing is whump, Pest Control in a Borrower story portrayed as vague traumatic memories similar to a fire, unreality in the context of dreams, unreality shown through writing techniques, mentions of physical, mental, and emotional abuse, alcoholic abuser, hints of inhumane living conditions, and a panic attack (All except the panic attack are in a dream, but as the prompt implies, are also memories). Abuse section is surrounded by ⚠️emoji so you can skip over that one if you want/need

If that is too much or too heavy, or if you need a cooldown afterwards, may I politely suggest checking out Melancholy / Video Games, which is a lot gentler.

========

They were running. They had to run, the room was filling with bright clouds, the ones that cause that intense pain. They look around, seeing their childhood home, covered in darkness. They could hear the muffled noises through the wall to the humans' kitchen, the loud whirring of the unknown device that heralded the downfall of their village. The panicking sprite reaches for their backpack, hoping it would protect them like it did last time, but it wasn't there. No! Did they leave it somewhere? They had to go back!

A door, was that always there? That wall should lead to outside, what was this door? An escape from the clouds, that's what it is. They walk through, only to be met by that familiar alleyway. As if on cue, she walks into sight, her blue-green hair, eyes the color of fire, and golden dress a contrast to the dreary gray and red-brick surroundings. She glows in an almost supernatural light. The sprite tries to get her attention, but she keeps walking, causing them to have to lunge out of the way of her sandal. Why didn't she see them?

Wait, the backpack, they forgot their backpack! They turn to the doorway that was never there, replaced with the usual wall, with the offset brick that served as the entrance to their nest for a few months, a little shelter to keep out of the elements.

They enter the bricks and end up in their little outlet room, their slice of home in the human world they've been a part of for months now. The wiring seems different… oh, of course, yeah, they did change that, didn't they? Still missing their backpack, they walk to their shelf, to see if there's anything they can use. As they reach for supplies, they remember that there was nothing there. They reach for supplies, but they remember that there was nothing there. They reach for supplies, but they remember that there was nothing there. With every shelf empty, the young sprite realizes they'll need to go borrowing. Maybe they'll even find their backpack along the way.

As they leave the room, they fill with dread as they realize where they are. This place. The sprite hears the noise, that dreaded noise, the uneven thumping that indicates they are home… and are even more aggressive than usual. The panicked sprite looks around, trying to find where to hide, they can't see them again, this can't be happening! The door to the room opens, that dark, looming silhouette appearing, taking up the doorway, taking up the room, taking up the mind. In a singsong voice, they call out. ⚠️⚠️⚠️ "Paaaaatch~"

Wait, Patch? How… only… they didn't get that name until afterwards… did she betray them?

"Aren't… aren't you glad? Glad that-that your friend found you? Just think… you would have been sooooo lost if she... if she didn't bring you back here, where I can, y'know, I can keep you safe. Because nowww you're home! With me. Where you… belong."

Their face grows a dark grin as they finish that sentence, staring at the terrified sprite with those ice-cold eyes of sapphire. As the figure stumbles through the room, trying to capture them, the sprite runs towards the dresser, atop which sat that familiar prison of a cage. They were always able to move the dresser, but it gave a few moments of respite before the pain. Time to brace, to prepare. As they enter the darkness, they cower as their legs cease to work. How… How could she betray them like this? How could she let them know where they were? Didn't she promise to protect them? ⚠️⚠️⚠️

The backpack, that's what they notice. It's sitting there, in the darkness. A bright light shining down on it, drawing them to it. They walk over and inspect it. Their name, the only trace of their identity, gone. The writing seems to shift between nickname after nickname. Lighter names, "Patch", "Buddy", "Little Cutie"... Darker names. Names that sting their very soul to read. All a part of said soul, for better or worse.

The glow, they see the glow again. Looking up, they see her again, facing away. Her outfit is the same as that fateful day they met, a simple t-shirt and jeans. Either she's really far away, or somehow smaller. They approach, cautiously, having some strong words if this is really her. As she turns, her purple eyes – the sprite's own purple eyes, gaze right through them. She opens her mouth, the sound coming from everywhere and nowhere as she speaks in a voice they've never heard, "I am Ri

Patch awoke in a sweat, eyes full of tears. They looked around their room. The wiring was exactly as they left it. Their shelves were full of supplies, a few blueprints, and some snacks they kept handy. Most importantly, their prized backpack hung from its usual hook, their name inscribed on it. Panicked and breathing heavily, they did the only thing they could think of. They ran outside and furiously rang the bell outside of their little room, hitting it like their life depended on it.

Before long, the kitchen light turned on, and the towering, half-awake form of Melody stood before them, her hair messy and eyes bleary. She yawned before starting to speak. "Wh… where's the fire, Patch? You okay?"

The answer was made clear as she focused her eyes, taking in the shaking, crying form before her. This instantly woke her up a bit, as she ducked down to the level of the countertop. "Oh, oh no, Patch, buddy… how can I help? Touch, or no touch?"

Patch held their arms out, signaling that it was in fact a touch situation. Mel gently held out her hand as the scared sprite jumped into it. They were moved right to the human's shoulder, where they embraced her in as much of a hug as possible with a two-inch arm span, as they silently cried. The human's heart broke to see their friend like this.

"... Say no more, Patch. Why don't we go lay on the couch, I'll put the TV on, and we'll help you forget about whatever you dreamed about, okay?"

She needed no approval from the sprite as she laid down on the couch, consoling her small companion, who was already starting to drift off again to the comforting rhythm of Melody's heartbeat, their dreams for the rest of the night uneventful.

[gentil-minou]

I love looking at fanart for something before I've finished the canon content itself because it's like "look at this pretty art I have no context for this but it's so cute" and then you learn the context and it's like vicious murder plot with tragic ending or sad dream of what could have been sequence and just the pain doesn't end huh

[gqdfather]

Nineteen Eighty-Four, 1984. Dir. by Michael Radford.

[bereft-of-frogs]

this second draft is going so slowly but 1) I have a full month, at least, before the ‘deadline’ and even then I could in theory still do work on subsequent chapters as I post them, and 2) we have reached ‘oh right, this is why I hate summer’ weather and I cannot think clearly so I think in depth second drafting is going to have to wait until it drops back into the 70s next week

[dogtheories]

ugh i want to. idk how to . idk what im meant to extrapolate out of this exactly but when sally dreams the guy she killed on the plane and she hears a child laughing and she talks to him like she would talk to a child. whats going on there

[swordmaid]

eden verse more like the slow realisation that the story you’re following is false…. it’s never been about you (the main character), you were just forced to play that role because someone else is trying to skew the story to fit them. it’s always been your story but never about you. in this fairy tale you were never the damsel that needed saving, but the knight who went in the journey to rescue the damsel how could you have forgotten that……….

[feralghxuls]

anyway this dew fic will be really fun when he starts to get some memories back but doesn't realize yet that Things Have Changed. and aether is gonna have to tell him that terzo is dead and he is gonna have to grieve for him all over again

also i think i figured out the first person he gets clear memories of. and it's not aether. and they are gonna be the first person dew specifically asks to see

[hopelessromantic-ghost]

i think at this point i have to add lee as a familial fave but 😭 seeing any media of him ever just makes me so sad

[cursedauxiliary]

Most my dreams are literally the horrors yet what I crave the most everyday is just more sleep

[anchorhcld]

cant find the post anymore but i definitely think that the yj writers dropped the ball on the pregnancy aspect of shauna's storyline i mean, shes someone who didnt even want to be a parent, not the first or second time, went into a marriage out of guilt and obligation with a guy she didnt even want and spent 9 months in the middle of this endless forest pregnant with her best friends boyfriends baby (which was the catalyst for said best friends death) with no medical supplies or doctors its like the writers could not bring themselves to write genuine pregnancy horror even with all the set up in the world thats the real tragedy of ep 6

[forpiratereasons]

having reviewed (see: watched obsessively) the first three episodes, there doesn't seem to be any sign of ed's knee brace. there are two explanations for this. the first one is the very boring doylist option, which is that there was some real-life reason taika couldn't or wouldn't wear it (fit, ease of use, restricted movement, etc).

the second reason is much sadder but more interesting one, which is that ed has made a deliberate choice not to wear it. "but his knee will hurt!" yeah it's self-harm. it's self-sabotage. it's self-punishment. that he doesn't deserve to wear it, or that it doesn't matter, that a little extra pain doesn't matter. it also will slow him down, and make him slower and slower on raids, in front of the crew - it makes him an easier target, in other words.

interestingly, ed doesn't wear it in either dream sequence either. in stede's dream, this is maybe meant to signify that ed is healed, that he's in no pain. in ed's dream, this probably means the exact opposite - that he doesn't stop hurting himself even in dreams.

I'm interested to see if the knee brace shows up again as ed begins to heal. but whether the brace shows up again or not, i'm always gonna think of that knee as Fucked to Hell, a thing which can be so personal. plus, others have said this in more depth, but whether a person uses a mobility aid like the brace, or the frequency with which they use it, is not dispositive as to whether they're disabled.

[bluebeary-jay]

clouded judgment / clear mind

Joel Miller x f!Reader

Summary: it was a long time since Joel had felt a maddening rage like this, but he weren't about to let anyone who dares to hurt you get away with it (based on this ask)

Tags: Joel goes apeshit, angst, a bit of comfort at the end, established relationship, protective Joel (REALLY protective lmao), basically he goes feral

Warnings: uh. VERY graphic descriptions of violence (I'm not good at writing action sequences but it is graphic), swearing, kinda torturing 😬

Word count: 4.5K

A/N: this one was really challenging, but i hope yall will like what i came up with :) i really didn't expect it to be so difficult to write buuut i tried to focus on the "giving-his-brother-nightmares" side of Joel and i think i succeeded. anyway !!! happy reading ❤️

He should have never left you alone.

Which was a ridiculous thought, of course, because how are you supposed to patrol efficiently if the other person refuses to leave your side even for a moment? Besides, he didn’t want you to think he didn’t trust you – he saw multiple times what you were capable of first-hand and he knew you were able to take care of yourself.

He put it forward once – to not split up and patrol the same area within the eyeshot of each other. You sent him a crooked smile at that, saying something about him being a little too overprotective before you gave him a kiss and went on your merry way, leaving him alone and slightly annoyed (but with a faint, stupid grin on his face).

So he tried to rein in this ‘overprotectiveness’ you mentioned. He never brought it up again, even though a cold shiver ran up his spine every time he lost sight of you beyond the safe walls of Jackson. Each time you two went on a patrol, he had to take a second to calm down and remind himself this is not one of his dreams when he loses you.

That’s why at first, when he heard your voice screaming his name from a distance, he wasn’t sure if it was really happening.

The instinct, however, kicked in the next second and he rushed back to where he saw you last, to the interior of a resort around which he was scouting. This was supposed to be one of the safest options for patrolling – no one ever saw any signs of life here besides occasional infected, and Joel was never that worried when you went inside alone to check the place.

He had a feeling his cautious (he really didn’t want to call it ‘overprotective’) nature was gonna become a nuisance again after this incident.

The goddamn downpour outside made listening for any noises aggravatingly difficult. Joel yelled for you, but he didn’t hear any answer and the driving rain beating against the windows of the resort absorbed all the sounds.

He made his way inside the building and up the stairs when he noticed your hat lying discarded against the wall. A wave of ice-cold dread washed over him. The stairway was dark but even with the little light he had he could see a couple of wet, almost black droplets on the dirty floor.

What he felt next reminded him of falling asleep – his shoulders relaxed and from head to toe a cool, silent equilibrium crept over him. Joel gripped his rifle firmly and pushed on soundlessly. It didn’t seem like you were stabbed or shot – there would be much more blood present – but you were hurt. Someone must’ve laid in wait to ambush you, and now…

It didn’t matter. Whoever it was, they made a grave mistake.

Joel reached the second floor, listening intently for any clues as to where you might be or how many people are in the building with him, but he didn’t even have to check the rooms one by one. A faint light, which couldn't have been left by the previous patrol, was spilling out from underneath the doors at the far end of the corridor . He did consider the possibility that it was a decoy and your attacker was hiding in one of the other rooms, but the closer he got to the sliver of light on the dusty floor, and the more doors he passed, it became clear that whoever got you, they weren’t that cunning.

And then he heard it. A sound of a blow from the other side of the door, and then a strangled cry.

It was you. Your voice.

Joel took a deep breath, gritted his teeth and kicked the door open, bursting into the room with his rifle held high – only to find himself surrounded by six men, five of whom were holding him at gunpoint.

The sixth one, a ragged-looking blond, stood over you and the second he saw Joel, he grabbed you by the hair and pressed a knife against your neck, making both you and Joel freeze.

“You’re from this town nearby, right?” asked the man with a heavy accent Joel couldn’t place. “The one that fucking shoots off any newcomers.”

Joel didn’t answer. Didn’t even look at this man. All he could see was your bruised and battered face and the blood running freely from your – probably broken – nose and down your chin. You had a black eye and a split brow, but your gaze was sharp and alert when you looked back at him.

He felt like his insides were boiling.

“Hey, dickhead!” the leader of the group yelled, gripping your hair tighter and making you hiss in pain. “You deaf or something?”

Joel finally managed to take his eyes off you – your blood and your bruises, and the concealed fear on your face – and glared at the man standing over you. His jaw was clenched and nostrils flaring, but he quickly collected himself. He couldn’t let his emotions get the better of him when you were in danger.

He lifted his hands slowly, showing that he was no threat to them. The thug tilted his head at one of his friends.

“Put down your gun and slide it over.”

Joel watched you following his movements with your eyes as he carefully put his rifle down and kicked it in the direction of one of the men. The blond holding the knife nodded twice.

“Now. You two are from the town, aren’tcha?”

“Let her go,” said Joel, trying to remain calm and not use – quoting Ellie – his ‘asshole voice’. “Then we’ll talk.”

The man shook his head and chuckled.

“Oh, no, no.” He pressed the blade harder against your throat. “We have the upper hand here. You understand?”

The man was looking at him expectantly but Joel’s eyes were nailed on the trickle of blood now running down the column of your neck. He remembered kissing that same neck this morning and tickling it with his nose, and the thought of this fucking bastard cutting your soft skin and leaving such a mark on it made him feel like he was about to burst.

“Fine,” he ground out with his jaw set. He looked over at the leader of the group. “What do you want?”

Had any of them been smarter, they would have picked up a dangerous note in his voice. But just like he suspected, they weren’t that bright.

“You go back to your town and bring five more horses here,” said the blond.  “And ammo. My buddy here,” he used his chin to point at another guy, standing behind Joel, “will tell you what kind. You try anything or come back with someone else, and I’ll slit her throat right open.”

“She will go get that shit for you and I will stay,” Joel negotiated strongly, but the leader of the group shook his head again.

“No. No way. You go and bring back everything we ask for, and I’ll let your little friend go.”

Joel’s eyes once again shifted to your form and something inside his chest twitched. You noticed it – of course you did, you were always able to read him like no one else – and tried to offer him a half smile.

“I’ll be fine, Joel,” you reassured him. “Nothing I haven’t–”

“Shut your trap!” The shorter man standing to your right yelled and raised his hand, making you flinch.

Joel could almost feel fire burning in his veins and through his skin, peeling it off his bones.

“Hey! There’s no need for that!” he said louder, taking a step forward, but the gang lifted their guns higher. He stopped and spread his arms wider. “I’ll get you the stuff you want. Just leave her alone.”

“You better hurry, then,” said the blond with a nasty smile, and Joel nodded while trying not to look too desperate. He looked at his friend. “Tell him what we need.”

Joel didn’t give a shit what they were saying – it was him who needed to think of something, and fast. He had a suspicion as to who these men were – he heard from Tommy about a larger group trying to gain entry to Jackson several times. Apparently they threatened the patrol which found them when they were denied permission to join their community. It was before Joel came to the small town for the first time with you and Ellie, but the word around was that any rogue group around this terrains wasn’t to be trusted.

And everything from the description Tommy gave him fit: ragged looks, traveling on foot, low on ammunition.

While one of the men listed what kind of guns they had and how much supplies they wanted, a motion in Joel’s field of vision caught his attention and his eyes darted to you – or more specifically, to your left hand.

You stared right back at him, moving your fingers slightly so the others didn’t notice.

N… O… A… M…

No ammo.

None? That’s probably why the one standing next to you wasn’t holding you at gunpoint but with a knife to the throat. The rest of them must’ve had their pistols drawn just for show. Joel had no idea how you figured it out, but a thought struck him and he surveyed the members of the group. He remembered which one held onto his rifle, but you were armed, too…

As if reading his mind, your fingers started to twitch again the second he looked back at you.

U... Left… B, E, H, I…

Suddenly the man to your right bowed over you again and punched you square in the stomach, knocking the wind out of you.

“Fucking bitch,” he snarled with contempt and glared back at Joel. “No funny games, you hear me? You come back with a gun or anyone else, and I won’t hesitate to fucking kill her, man.”

Joel’s heart was pounding in his chest. All he could see was your face contorted in pain, all he could hear were your coughs and grunts.

Two of the men came forward – the one on his left had a loaded gun from what you managed to convey to him in sign language – and pushed him towards the exit. Joel shifted his icy stare at the man standing next to him, and then at the two situated near you.

They were all going to die.

When he gets back, he’s going to kill every one last of them, and he’s going to enjoy it immensely.

Joel sent you one last look before turning around and slowly walking out of the room with both men close behind, pointing their guns (and only one of them loaded) at him.

It was going to be alright. He had a stirring of a plan and when he comes back, maybe with Tommy or someone else…

You gasped and coughed again behind his back after the sound of another punch.

Joel came to a dead stop, not registering the gun barrel digging into his back, and he felt like his jaw was going to snap if he kept clenching it like that.

You murmured something he didn’t quite catch and Joel turned his head slightly just in time to see the short man kicking you in the ribs and your form lying on the wooden floor, spitting out blood…

“You think you’re so clever, huh? I swear to fucking god, if you pull something like that again…”

Joel didn’t even let the man finish.

In a split second he elbowed the man behind him, grabbing his hand holding the gun – the one they took from you – and shooting the blond standing over you. He fell backwards and the knife fell out of his grip. Taking out the guy Joel grappled with was embarrassingly easy, and once he had a good grip on the pistol belonging to you, he spun around to face the other thug with his gun, standing on the opposite side of the room.

The ragged man fired at him, but Joel didn’t even need to duck, for the bullet missed him by half a meter at least. The man was lying dead soon after, shot twice in the head, and the remaining three took out their weapons, ready for a fight.

None of them reached for Joel’s rifle, lying under their friend’s corpse.

“That’s even better,” he murmured to himself, unloading the gun and throwing it against the far wall.

If looks could kill, they’d already be lying on the ground and writhing in agony. But Joel was more than happy to do it himself. And with his bare hands.

He strode with confidence to the nearest man who swung a machete at him. Joel avoided the attack and pushed him back, quickly darting to the side and decking the other man coming at him.

A sharp pain ripped through his body from the back of his arm when the third thug cut through his clothes. Joel blocked the second strike and twisted the opponent's arm, applying so much pressure that the bone in the forearm snapped and the man’s scream pierced the air.

He lurched back to dodge the machete aimed at his neck and picked up a knife dropped by the previous guy. He surged forward, driving the blade into the thigh of his current attacker, which made the other man lose his balance. Their friend, the last one still unharmed, managed to punch Joel’s jaw, making something crack and reverberate inside his skull, but he only wiped the blood from his face.

When the last thug came closer, Joel used his own momentum and grabbed the back of his skull, bringing the guy's face down onto his own knee. After that his movements were practically automatic when he grabbed the dazed man from behind and broke his neck in a swift motion.

Breathing heavily, he made his way to the first man he knocked out and took your gun from, picking up the machete en route. That son of a bitch wasn’t even conscious, but it didn’t stop Joel from bringing the weapon down and through his head.

The next one was the bastard with the broken arm, but his screams quickly died away when he, too, received a deep and lethal wound from Joel – this time aimed at his chest, almost cutting it open.

Your yelp ripped through the roar of blood in his ears and Joel turned around just in time to see the blond he shot in the shoulder sitting on top of you, trying to stab you with his knife. You managed to dodge it and before that idiot could try again, Joel came up to you both, grabbed the man’s hair and all but threw him off of you and onto the floor.

The blond was still holding the weapon in his hand, but didn’t get another chance to use it – with all his strength Joel brought the heel of his heavy boot down on the injured man's fingers. The man screamed when the satisfying crunch of the bones in his hand breaking echoed throughout the room and Joel couldn't hide a smirk.

He deserved it. All of them deserved it.

He again saw before his eyes the way this motherfucker kicked you and how his friend threatened to cut your throat. Again he saw red.

“You piece of shit,” Joel whispered, still blinded by rage, and gave the man a taste of his own medicine by kicking him in the stomach as hard as he could. The bastard coughed and yelled in pain but it wasn’t enough.

Joel’s focus was sharp and clear when he stood over the battered and bleeding man, staring down at him with hatred. He thought the blond tried to say something – his lips were certainly moving – but he didn’t concern himself with any begging or threats the thug had to offer. Instead he gripped the front of his sweater and punched him in the jaw, letting the limp body fall to the floor and relishing in the sounds of his curses, his grunts of pain, his blood dripping onto the floor…

Not enough.

Joel did that several more times – grabbing the idiot’s clothes, hair, whatever – to pull him up and hit him in the jaw, temple, nose and wherever else his fist landed. The face of the man was bloodied and he was barely conscious at this point and still all Joel could see was the look of sadistic glee on this man's face after finding an excuse to hurt you.

Joel didn’t have much strength anymore, but he ignored the biting pain from the cut on his arm and the raw wounds on his bloody knuckles, and straddled the lying man. The survival instinct must've kicked in and the blond started to tussle, reaching with his not-broken fingers to Joel’s face, scratching his brow and cheek.

And just like the glee he saw in the thug’s eyes earlier, Joel was more than happy that he gave him an excuse – and an idea – how to hurt him more.

“I saw how you looked at her,” he said in a low tone to the unlucky man, holding his left arm in place with his knee and pressing his own thumb to that fucker's swollen eye. “You like hearin’ people screamin’ in pain? Because I just know this is going to bring me great joy.”

Blood was flowing from under Joel’s finger and down his hand when he gouged the blond’s eye out and the man was shrieking. He was writhing and struggling under Joel's weight, and his voice became guttural and hoarse soon after when the dark blood started to flood his mouth. Joel pulled his hand away, panting heavily, and soaked in the suffering of that bastard whose face now resembled a smashed, bloody goo.

Not enough.

It was unfortunate that the blond was the only one left Joel could take it out on, but he couldn’t find any compassion in himself at the moment. So he punched him again, staining the floor with the scumbug's blood.

And again.

And again.

And again.

“Joel.”

Joel turned around sharply, grasping the thug’s knife. He could still feel rage churning inside of him and he was breathing heavily, trying to contain the fury filling him without screaming out loud. His hands were covered in blood – not his – and he subconsciously knew that the man lying motionlessly under him was long since dead, his face completely destroyed, but he wished that son of a bitch was still alive so that he could feel the suffering Joel longed to inflict upon him.

Everything because he hurt you.

You…

The ringing in his ears stopped suddenly and the knife fell out of his hand when he ran up to where you were still lying on the floor. You were curled up on your side with your arms wrapped protectively around your stomach and your face twisted in pain.

Joel’s breathing got quicker, now for an entirely different reason, when he noticed that the cut on your neck was bigger than he originally thought, and still bleeding. Your face was bruised and he knew your whole torso will probably turn green and purple soon, too.

“Oh, babygirl,” he whispered tenderly, his trembling hands hovering above your body, but not touching it. “It’s…” It’s alright, he wanted to say. Or maybe, where does it hurt the most?

He had trouble finding his voice, though. In his fury he completely forgot that you were still here and in need of his help.

You took a deep breath and turned your head ever so slightly to look at him in the corner of your eye. A sad smile appeared on your face.

“Hi, Joel.”

Joel breathed in. Out. In again.

For fuck’s sake, what was he thinking?

He quickly wiped the blood of the people he killed on his pants and cursed at himself mentally.

“Hi, darlin’,” he murmured in response, focusing back on you. “You’re gonna be alright. How are you feeling?”

“I think I might have a broken rib or two,” you breathed while Joel pulled out a clean piece of cloth he carried in his jacket for cases like this one and pressed it against the cut on the side of your neck. You winced and he felt a pang of pain in his own chest.

“Can I check?”

You let go of your stomach with a strangled gasp. Joel started to gently feel your torso, trying to discern if he could feel any broken bones or signs of internal bleeding. He kept his touch as delicate as he could, not wanting to hurt you even more, or worse – scare you.

He couldn’t stop his hands from shaking, though, no matter how much he tried to calm his breathing. He wished he could hold you as securely as he held his gun, with a quiet heart and sharp focus, but the fear of accidentally hurting you made his fingertips recoil at times.

Although you two knew each other for years now, you were never a witness to this cruel side of him. You knew about it, of course, of horrible things he’s done before he got to Boston and met you. A couple of times you even saw with your own eyes snippets of these primary emotions of fear or anger overtaking Joel’s mind and body.

But never like that. Never with such ferocity, hatred and satisfaction from hurting those who did the same to you.

He just really didn’t want you to be afraid of him. You were so precious to him and often he thought those brutal hands of his, which he knew were guilty of inflicting unimaginable pain and suffering, weren't worthy of touching someone who in his eyes was so delicate and pure.

But it never stopped you from seeking his touch, and although Joel could be stubborn and tough at times, he didn’t have it in himself to ever refuse you anything – even when he knew better.

That was always the case. His judgment and mind were clouded when it came to you.

“I don’t think anythin’ is broken,” he finally said in a quiet voice, cupping your cheek gingerly and turning your head to look at it better. “But the nose probably is. How did it happen?”

“They jumped out on me in the hallway,” you answered, not meeting his eyes while he gently touched the base of your nose. Then you looked to the window against which the still pouring rain was beating. “One of them punched me when I shouted for you. I thought you might have not heard me.”

“I heard you,” he murmured and sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. You came for me pretty quickly, so–”

“Not that. M’sorry you had to see… this.”

To that, you didn't say anything. Joel felt his heart clenching on itself and almost stopping from the wave of terror that washed over him.

His treacherous mind was rushing him to defend his actions or make excuses – because if he doesn’t, if it turns out you’re scared of him and the things he’s capable of…

You might leave him. And if you leave, Joel won’t survive that.

But he didn’t give in to those cruel thoughts and silenced the voice in his head.

“I’d do it again,” he said quietly, making you lift your head. “In a heartbeat. I’m really sorry you had to see that, darlin’, but I… just know I’d never hurt you. And if I can help it, no one else will either.”

“Hey.” Your knuckles brushed his cheek and you looked at him with sad eyes. “You don’t need to explain yourself. I know you did it to protect me.”

“I wanted them to suffer,” he continued as if you didn’t say anything, but at the same time he soaked in the feeling of your soft touch on his face. “I don’t know how much you saw–”

“Joel.” You sat up with a wince after interrupting him, and your gaze turned sharp. “Why are you telling me this?”

Even though the bloody, battered mess that he made of the blond man seemed to push itself into Joel’s field of vision, he refused to look away from you.

“‘Cause you need to know. I feel like I’d be lyin’ to you if I didn’t explain that it wasn’t an accident or a one-time thing,” he answered, his eyes flickering from your neck to your face, and down to his own stained hands. “Couldn’t think of anythin’ else after I saw you like that, on the ground and…”

“Listen to me.” You took his head firmly in your hands and your gaze was unwavering – like you wanted to make sure that your every word will reach the depths of his soul. “I’ll say it again: you don’t need to explain. I get why you did that. And don’t even think you’re gonna drive me away because of that.”

You knew him too well. Sometimes it was slightly annoying, sometimes even scary.

This time, however, it felt reassuring.

You looked to the side where the body of his last victim lay, and Joel grimaced, gently touching the edge of your jaw and tilting it back to him. “Don’t look,” he whispered, realizing with surprise, as well as a horrible lump in his throat, that he felt almost ashamed.

Your bright eyes met his again and he briefly wondered if your gaze always was so scrutinizing.

“I’m not scared of you,” you said sternly, like always knowing what was going on in his head. “I'm not, so stop thinking that.” You shook him by the arm a little and when he didn’t answer, the corner of your lips tugged upwards in a teasing manner. “I’ve seen you multiple times in the morning. I know you’re secretly a big softie.”

Joel really didn’t deserve this kind of kindness and understanding from you. That didn’t stop him from craving it, though.

He didn't say anything – just leaned in and kissed your cheek tenderly, lingering there for a moment but paying attention not to brush your nose. You exhaled and closed your eyes, your eyelashes tickling his skin, and he decided not to drag this conversation on any longer.

“Come ‘ere, sweetheart. I’ll help you up.”

He stood up and held out his hand. It was rough and covered in blood, but even after you saw what he did to those men and heard their screams, you didn’t hesitate to take it.

“Joel,” you said gravely after standing up. There was no trace of your previous smile on your face. “If you were the one in danger, I’d do the same thing.”

You were looking at him expectantly, clearly waiting for an answer, and after a couple of seconds he nodded slightly. Apparently it was good enough for you, because you just squeezed his hand and tugged him after you and out of the room.

Joel didn’t know if he believed you.

But your words made him feel calmer and cleared his clouded mind nonetheless.

[danyllura]

The final Ken war turning into a dance battle is another example of how the film explores toxic masculinity and how dismantling it helps men form deeper emotional bonds. The Ken’s are not a united force. They allow jealousy and competition over the Barbie’s to get in the way of their relationships with one another. This is one of the reasons why they’re so hurt by the Barbie’s lack of interest, as the only form of praise or attention they get is from them. This plays into the issue of men not allowing themselves to be emotionally vulnerable with their male friends, and instead often pushing their turmoils onto women in their life. And when these women can not or will not shoulder their emotional burden they lash out.

The Ken’s go to war in a traditionally masculine way, with horses and weapons. But it isn’t until they start their dance battle that we see them stepping back away from toxic masculinity.

The Ken’s initially dance in competition, which is reminiscent of the former dance sequence in the movie. At Barbies dream house the Barbie’s dance together in unity, with love and admiration for one another. They are basking in their sisterhood and having fun. Meanwhile the Ken’s dance with the intention to impress the Barbie’s. They are in competition with one another, dancing in unison but not as one.

In the final dance battle this changes. The Ken’s begin to dance together, in unity. And we see as they begin to look at one another as genuine friends their actions become softer and more emotional (eg; kissing eachother on the cheek and hand holding). They are no longer mimicking the men Ken had read about, and instead allowing themselves to form the healthy, emotional friendships men are often discouraged from having. Under patriarchy men lose the chance to be caring and loving with their friends. They are told to bottle up their emotions and not express their feelings in a gentle manner. Being deprived of this emotional depth hurts men and their future relationships. And it is why the Ken’s are only able to begin finding acceptance in themselves and their identities once they allow themselves to be open with people other than just Barbie.