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dreamgloe · 5 years

Note

vanilla, letters & melt

prompt: vanilla, letters & melt (this prompt list here)

words: 4.56k

warnings: fluff, slightest bit of angst

notes: so this is really late but….better late than never, right? I’ll just keep it in the valentine’s day theme. ;) despite how long this took, i’m so happy to be writing some cute namjoon while writing some angsty namjoon (his chapter in ‘half of my heart’ has put me T H R O U G H I T)

tags: @joonieblossoms

mini playlist: fools by troye sivan | call your girlfriend (robyn cover) by clara mae | sponge by clay best friend by ikon

-x-

There were only two sounds in your apartment. One was the loud crashing noises of the Netflix romcom you’d decided to play with a hard press of your forefinger. Afterwards, you tossed the remote to the floor, not caring where it landed. The second was the scraping of your spoon against the paper carton of Tahitian Vanilla ice cream from your favorite neighborhood spot.

You told yourself that you hated this holiday, that it was a consumerist weapon holding people hostage in the name of love. If anyone asked you, you were boycotting and Galentine’s Day was the only holiday worth celebrating. Celebrating womanhood with your girl friends with copious amounts of sparkling rosé was the only draw to this time of the year.

However, that was a damn lie.

Not only were most of your friends in relationships, you actually loved Valentine’s Day. Well, you did. You loved the idea when you were in a relationship, which you had been in until about a month ago. It wasn’t as if you were certain that Choi Sungwoo was the one for you but you did spent the better part of eight months committed to him, his work functions–which you hated–and to trying your best to not demolish his ass in Overwatch every time you played with him. He was funny when he wasn’t trying to be and he was never ashamed to hold your hand in public. The sex was great, you knew there were no complaints in that department.

But…obviously something wasn’t working for him when he told you that it was over. He admitted that there was someone else. He said that he had feelings for someone at his work and he didn’t want to continue to lead you on if he was interested in someone else. He also said he wanted a chance with this person. He didn’t want any “what ifs.”. You couldn’t hate him for being honest but you hated him on principle anyway.

He wasn’t even a coward, you thought to yourself, stabbing your spoon back into the ice cream. You paused, looking into the carton. It was missing something, and with that thought you walked to grab the chocolate syrup out of the fridge, the kind that hardened on top of ice cream. Flipping the cap and squeezing it all over the ice cream, you only stopped when the top was almost completely covered. Flipping the cap back into place, you didn’t even bother to put it back in the fridge.

You just didn’t care.

It was at that moment that you were glad your roommate, Namjoon, wasn’t back. To be honest, you weren’t even sure what he was doing. You were just happy that he wasn’t home to watch the sad scene of a gross ice cream concoction and some pretty abhorrent Netflix romantic comedies.

He’d also broken up with his girlfriend around five months ago but he’d been dating his girlfriend as long as you’d known him which was a little over two years. If it was a competition, you knew he’d won hands down. You liked her too and were sad for him when she dumped him.

And that was pretty big of you, too, because when you first met Namjoon, you might have had a teensy crush on him. Teensy being an understatement. Who wouldn’t? He was smart, kind, tall, and had one of the best smiles you’d ever seen in your life. But the two of you quickly fell into a friendship, one that you’d rather die than ever mess up.

Knowing he was sad, you did everything you could to cheer him up. Museum dates, pounds and pounds of barbeque. You even went with him to see all those foreign films he liked even though you hated them. You should have better taste, having studied French Literature. You met Namjoon in a Modern French Philosophy class for crying out loud! However, you’d always been a sucker for girl gang movies and romantic comedies. But…you couldn’t bear the crestfallen looks across your roommate’s face so you did your best to cheer him up even if it meant sitting through a handful of painful German films.

At the time, you couldn’t bring yourself to pry into why she broke up with him. He’d tell you if he wanted to. That’s what you told yourself. Namjoon had been busy the last month but he tried desperately to be there for you as well. He watched a handful of dramas and even the latest season of Alexa & Katie with you on Netflix. Two things he hated and he did them for you. For that, you were grateful but it didn’t stop you from shovelling your way through the pint of ice cream in front of you, knowing full well you had two more in the freezer.

Obviously, you couldn’t help but soften at the thought of Namjoon holding your hand and giving you tissues as you cried your eyes out watching fucking Alexa & Katie, a show aimed at middle school girls. He wasn’t the best roommate in the world but he was definitely one of the best friends you have ever been lucky enough to have.

Why did your bout of loneliness have to bubble up on a day that was both the epitome and antithesis of loneliness, though? Couldn’t the universe give you a fucking break? You were still holding the carton of ice cream in your condensation covered hands, spoon in mouth, feet up on the coffee table when Namjoon walked in. You’d been so absorbed in your ice cream that your surprise caused the metal spoon to clack against your teeth harshly, causing you to spasm. “Ow,” you said, more to yourself, “Goddamnit!”

“Oh…hey Y/N,” he said, lugging his messenger bag off his shoulder and then onto the ground as he approached the edge of the couch. You sighed loudly, putting the spoon into the carton and placing the whole thing on the table. “Namjoon….” you said, a hint of whine, “don’t just…er….enter the apartment like that. Nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“So sorry, Y/N. Next time I won’t exist in my own apartment,” he said sarcastically, crossing his arms while looking at you, not being able to help the small smile that spread across his face.

“Thank you,” you say, “I’d appreciate it.” You said it seriously but you couldn’t help the smile that eventually followed too. You played with the blanket it across your lap, smoothing it out. You didn’t expect him to be home. But honestly, where would he be? Both of you were single on Valentine’s Day. You should have thought of that. It had been months since either of you had been relationships, where would you both be going?

There was a moment before you spoke. “Care to join me?” you said, motioning to the nest of blankets, dvds, snacks, and strangely, more than one Apple TV remote. He heaved a heavy sigh before he kicked his shoes off and said, “If we’re doing this, I’m getting the wine.” After grabbing a bottle of red and two glasses, he finally sat down on the couch with a big plop, getting under the blanket with you. He poured you a glass, handing it to you now that you no longer were holding the tub of ice cream. The two of you did a cheers and he leaned back into the couch, hi shoulder touching yours.

He let you finish off the romcom you were watching before the two of your poured over old DVD’s. He’d convinced you to settle on Notting Hill, claiming it was one of the best romantic comedies of all time. You argued and said it was borderline boring, to which Namjoon just scoffed. However, you did your best to conceal the tears you were crying towards the end. Namjoon decided not to rub it in your face because you looked so sad. Soon enough, you found your hand in his. His was warm and it only made you cry more. “Hey…” he said softly, pulling some tissues from his pocket.

You were crying and it wasn’t just the movie. You were sad and lonely as hard as that was to admit to yourself. You missed sharing something with someone, you missed holding hands like Namjoon was currently holding your’s, you even missed playing damn Overwatch. You thought yourself a very independent person and you hated yourself for crying because you were alone on Valentine’s Day. The thought itself drew a choked sob out of you and with your free hand, you furiously wiped at your face.

Taking the tissues, you sloppily dabbed at your face, warm with tears and more than two glasses of red wine. “I’m literally the most pathetic person on planet Earth right now,” you said between sobs, “You don’t have to hold my hand, Namjoon. Thank you, but you don’t have to.” You waited for him to drop it but he only interlaces his fingers into yours more tightly. You looked up at him as he started to speak again. “I want to, Y/N,” he said, taking a deep breath, “What’s this about? What’s going on?” You couldn’t even be annoyed with him because he looked so concerned.

You gave yourself a few moments to breathe before you answer him. “It’s just….I don’t know if I miss Sungwoo or…” you said, trailing off.

“Or what….?” Namjoon asked in a concerned voice.

“Or if I’m just hopeless, awkward, and desperate for love!!!” you exclaimed dramatically. It only took Namjoon a second to get the FRIENDS reference. He laughed, intertwining his fingers with yours. The two of you still couldn’t get enough of syndicated FRIENDS reruns on basic cable.

He leaned his shoulder into yours as you took a deep breath. “But in all seriousness,” you continued, “I know it sounds dumb…but…it’s so nice to be liked, to be wanted or needed or whatever…” You looked down at your lap, blinking your eyes a few times.

“I get that,” he said softly, lukewarm fingers now starting to just slightly condensate in your grasp. Namjoon was rarely this affectionate towards anyone. However, in the last month, the two of you had spent a plethora of your time that you were not working on your dissertations, with each other. At your behest, a lot of it in front of the television with junk food, which contrasted to the time after his breakup. But you two had different tastes.

You liked sitting shoulder to shoulder with Namjoon on the couch, crying your eyes out to preteen multicam comedies on Netflix. But you weren’t sure why he’d put up with you. You just came to assume it was because he was concerned after your break up with Sungwoo.

“Ugh, sorry,” you say, shaking your head, trying to shake out of it, “Do you want to pick the next movie? I’ll even watch that Hebrew movie you were talking about? Fill the Void?” You paused for a second before continuing, “That’s the one about arranged marriage right?”

“The young woman married her sister’s widower,” he said, correcting you. You nodded and the two of you settled into the couch to finish the shitty romantic comedy you were watching. When you finished, the two of you had polished off the vanilla ice cream. You took the empty carton, grabbing your second tub and bringing it as Namjoon was loading up the foreign film. Taking another deep breath, you sat down next to him.

The film was slow but stunning and you couldn’t help but getting wrapped up into it along Namjoon. Shoulders still pressed together, you felt your eyes well up unblinkingly at the emotional scenes laying before you. In a lull, you couldn’t help but speak. “Maybe I should just have my family match me up like Shira,” you said, “Easy, relatively painless, percentage chance of heartbreak significantly lowered right?”

You were just bullshitting at this point, working your way through your second glass of wine, using the last tissue from Namjoon’s pocket to dab at some of the drink dripping from your chin. You were reaching the climax in your rant when Namjoon interrupted you. “Just stop, Y/N, okay?” he said, grabbing your shoulders, only shaking you slightly, “One day, a guy is going to be so lucky that you’ve let him be part of your life. Stop beating yourself up about it. It’s a dumb holiday. You are so very much worthy of love. Trust me, I know. So shut up and let’s finish the damn movie.”

He turns away from you and back to the tv, but you can’t help but stare at his profile. Serious and hellbent on concentrating on the subtitled movie. You eyed him suspiciously. “What do you mean ‘I know?”

He let out a large breath through his nose. “Fine,” he said, getting up, “I guess I’m doing this.” You watched him as got up, leaving you alone on the coach, and made his way down the hall in the direction of his bedroom. Less than a minute later, he came back with a stack of letters rubber banded together. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Y/N,” he said, as if he was annoyed.

As you started to ask, he pushed them into your hands. “Just read, don’t talk, okay?” he said, more forceful than you’d really ever seen him before. This time, however, he sat on one of the bar stools a handful of feet away as you slowly undid the two skinny rubber bands.

“Okay,” you said resolutely, as you carefully pried open the first envelope. It had been dated around five or so months ago, in Namjoon’s skinny, clear handwriting. You started reading, feeling your face crease.

Y/N, I took some time before writing this because that’s what you do when someone who has been a fixture in your life, no longer is. By the time I started this, I told you that Chaeha and I broke up. Chaeha told me that she knew my heart wasn’t with her anymore. What’s worse is that she wasn’t even mad. I denied it to her, told her that I only loved her, but she knew better. I don’t know when it all started but…I’m pretty sure you’ve always been more than a friend to me. Two weeks to come to terms with the fact that she was right.

That was only the first letter. There were definitely more than ten letters in the pile and one by one, you opened them. He had written to you once a week since his breakup with Chaeha. A few of the letters were just Namjoon talking about his day, a short trip he took with his parents, the weekend getaway you took with your mutual friends. However, they all revolved around thoughts of you, even if you weren’t present at the time.

You could feel your eyes and face soften. On one hand, it was all too much and the other, not nearly enough. As you picked up the latest one, dated two days ago, you couldn’t help but look over at Namjoon sitting on the stool by the counter. He looked at you as if to encourage you to keep reading but there was something in his eyes that didn’t want yours to leave either. Always an eloquent speaker, his letters spoke volumes beyond what he could physically say.

February 12th, 2019, February 12th, 2019. Two days ago.

I’m sure if you ever read these, Y/N, you’ll have figured it out quickly by this one. You’re so smart and that’s probably one of reasons we get along so well, why that Modern French Philosophy class was the best class I’ve ever taken at this place. Probably one of the reasons why Chaeha and I ended, even. The day I wrote about in the first letter, Chaeha told me it was you. I didn’t completely admit to myself but I’ve had five months to think about us and I can now confirm. I can confirm my feelings. I still am not sure when it all happened but it did. I fell in love with you along the way of our friendship.

Your eyes scanned the rest of the letter, trying to absorb all the information thoroughly but as quickly as possible. You finished, and turned to look at Namjoon over the couch. Your eyes growing softer, wider, and a bit wetter.

Knowing what was going on but not really knowing how to comprehend, your words faltered in your mouth. “What is–? Why–? Really–?” you said, only being able to form a few short, questioning words. You were emotional and a little buzzed already and now ….you were pretty sure your best friend was telling you that he broke up with his girlfriend five months ago because he was in love with you.

Snapping your head towards the kitchen to look at him, you were sure that you probably looked pretty lost. The expression on his face was serious but not hard, his chin between his forefinger and thumb. You wanted to move, to be able to look him closely in the eyes as if that act could provide you with answers. To be honest, you were overwhelmed and for a moment you thought you might just burst into tears. Where was all of this coming from?

The only thing you could do was hold up the stack of haphazardly opened letters. Not as in “I want to give these back” kind of way but in a way that says “I want to talk about these but my mouth and brain aren’t making the connection with one another.” He sloughs out of his chair and rejoins you back on the couch. You turn to him sideways, one knee up on the couch. You jester to him with the envelopes on your hands but a tight grip on them. A grip that might imply you don’t want to let them go, that if you do…what you just read will disappear.

“I know,” he says, “I know…it’s a lot, but it’s not–” He looks into your watery eyes and you can just tell he wants to stay more, that he probably has this eloquent speech or explanation planned out. He always knows what to say to you, what to say to other people. Where you were often speechless and stuck in your own head, he had a way with words that rivaled many heads of state.

You sighed and swallowed. “Tell me, then,” you manage to say, not quite knowing what is possessing you, “tell me what these letters haven’t.” Your knee brushed Namjoon’s thigh when you readjusted yourself next to him, placing the stack of letters on top of where your leg brushed his. You tried to remain as calm as possible for him, so that you could listen to him, but you were shaking. You couldn’t help it and you did your best to conceal that fact, by holding your arms to yourself, even though you didn’t want to look as if you were closed off from the conversation.

Once he started, you could only listen. The way he put into words possibly years of feelings…your heart was fit to burst. He’d been your friend for so long and you had built a relationship on being friends and roommates that you were more than satisfied with. Well, at least…that’s what you thought until the one person it also included flipped your world upside down with his confession.

“…You know I loved Chaeha. I was with her for half a decade,” he said, almost as if he was pleading. You nodded because it was true. He loved Chaeha. You loved her too…obviously not in that way but you’d grown close to her in the past two plus years of being Namjoon’s friend. She’d never…she’d never even given off any vibes that she didn’t like you, that she didn’t trust you, or that her boyfriend of five years might possibly be in love with another woman aka you. That thought hurt you too.

“I know, Namjoon,” you said, “I know you loved her so much. But why? When? How? I–I’m sorry. I’m not the articulate one in this friendship.” You held onto your own fingers so tightly, you knew there might be the possibility that they might bruise.

“I don’t know when it happened but here I am, fucking hopeless and in love with my best friend. Those five months taught me that Chaeha was right and that…she was right to dump me. I couldn’t continue to be in a relationship with her–even if I really cared about her because at the back of my mind, I was always thinking about you.” he said, finally shifting to face you, taking your shaking hands in each of his.

Never thought you’d see your best friend’s gaze falter, never thought he’d ever be at a loss. His hands were as warm as they were before but they felt different. This is what you were afraid of. Things changing between you. That’s why….whatever “little” crush you had on him when you first met, you pushed it aside. There was never going to be a way that you’d let Kim Namjoon slip away from your life. You had always recognized that you found him attractive but he was Namjoon, the PhD candidate with cartoon character pyjama pants and the guy who you’d let in the bathroom while you were in the shower so he could pee.

He still liked you after that and it confused you even more. “Not to sound like a broken record, but why me? What is it about me?” you asked. You were genuinely curious and confused. You weren’t a mess, per say, but you and Namjoon shared every streaming service and refused to purchase cable tv because you were on a budget. Chaeha had been beautiful, smart, and a fantastic career and life going for her. Why was your roommate looking at you like you held the fucking universe? Why was he taking a step closer to you right now? Why were his eyes bigger and glassier than you’d ever seen them before?

Why was it that when he squeezed your hands in his and he finally looked at you in the eyes, you could feel all the confusing puzzle pieces finally fall into place? Could he see the light bulb go off in your brain?

“What isn’t it about you?” he said, suddenly smiling more brightly than he had since he walked through the door, “One, you’re my best friend. Two, without you I would starve. Three, I realized you have always made my heart do this.” He took one of the hands he was holding and put it on his heart. It was beating rather fast. You could feel your fingers press into the shirt covering his chest, looking for some kind of anchor to keep you on this earth. Now that the two of you were closer, you could feel the light breeze of his wine breath on your face.

Of your own accord, you moved the hand on his chest to the juncture of his neck and shoulder in attempt to not pull him to you but still bring him closer. The only sound you could hear was the foreign film in the background and the sound of your own ragged breath. “What are you thinking?” he asks so quietly, that if it wasn’t silent, you wouldn’t have been able to catch it.

“It’s just that…the feelings I have…I have…I have pressed them so far down because of how much our friendship means to me, how much you mean to me…that I’m just trying to wrap my head around this,” you rambled. Your thumb rubbed at his jaw, reveling in the warmth and softness of his skin there. “Did you know…that I had a crush on you when we first became friends?” you said, not being able to help but chuckle at yourself a little.

“No,” he said, looking down at you.

“But you were with Chaeha and you two were really cute and I wanted to be your friend so bad that I–” you said but in a fast moment, were cut off by Namjoon’s lips against yours. You wanted to cry because you’d thought about it more than you wanted to admit. Repressing your crush on Namjoon was now going to take its toll in the form of big soppy tears that were pooling in your tear ducts.

Pressing your finger into his jaw, you used your hand to bring him closer, a sob stuck in your throat. You used a little more momentum than you had thought to and Namjoon ended up half on top of you as you fell back into the large, squishy couch cushion. His hands were soon around your waist and your arms slipped around his shoulders.

After coming up for air, you managed to get out “Sorry, I’m all emotional. This is all so good but a little much. I just…you overwhelm me…in a good way.” You tacked that bit on at the end because it was true. The very thought and feel of him right now consumed you.

“Please don’t feel pressured to say or do anything you don’t want to,” he said earnestly, “That’s the last thing I want to happen. Your friendship, regardless of this, means everything to me.” You smile, bringing his lips back to you. When you pressed him even closer to you, Namjoon eagerly maneuvered so that you were underneath him on the couch. His fingers brushed your bare sides while yours dipped under the collar of his t-shirt.

He melded to you like you had been there all along.

“I said it earlier but…Happy Valentine’s Day, Y/N,” he said, that big, happy doofy smile blooming across his face.

“You too, Joon,” you said, biting your bottom lip before pulling him in closer. The two of you remained tangled up together for several more minutes until eventually, you ended up on top of Namjoon. When you finally separated, the movie was over and you decided to clear up all your mess on the coffee table except for the wine.

As you reached for the tub of ice cream in order to take it to kitchen, you peered inside only to be disappointed. “Goddamnit, the ice cream melted!” you said annoyedly. But before you could walk to throw it in the trash can, a pair of arms looped around your middle as a chin pressed into your shoulder.

“So did I,” Namjoon said into your ear. You couldn’t help but chortle at the cheesy line. As cheesy as it was, it was still lovely. You wrapped your arms around his and leaned back into him as you help the condensation covered melted tub of ice cream. When his lips reached behind your ear, you leaned forward to place the tub on a surface, not wanting it all over the carpet.

Smiling at that moment, you promised yourself to never call Valentine’s Day a consumerist holiday ever again.

#hyunglinenetwork #btswritingcafe #namjoon x reader #bts fluff #bts angst #bts scenarios #bts fanfiction #namjoon fanfic #bts fanfic #kim namjoon #namjoon #namjoon fluff #namjoon angst #bts #bangtan #joonieblossoms #palepinksuga: writings #writings #fic: drabble

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ariavgs · 5 years

Text

alexa demie. twenty three. cisfemale. she/her. sia. | i can’t believe i just saw ARIA VEGA walking out of cadence records. they’re a single POP artist who’s been in the industry for THREE YEARS. the tabloids love to focus on their MATERIALISTIC nature , but they’re also pretty SPONTANEOUS and they seem to give off a vibe that reminds people of PERFECTLY DONE MAKEUP AT ALL TIMES, BUBBLE BATHS AFTER A LONG DAY, LATE NIGHT PHONE CALLS, RUNNING FINGERS THROUGH DARK LOCKS & FAKE SMILES.

hi hello everyone !! i suck at those introductions about myself, so let me just say that i’m v excited to be here & bring a muse that i only played once & it was a long time ago. also i’m bella ( she / her pronouns ) , my timezone is gmt-3 & i’m 21. if you want to plot give this a like & i’ll annoy you in the ims !!

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐒 :

name : aria vega. age : twenty three. gender & pronouns : cis female . she / her. date of birth : july 25th. zodiac : leo. hometown : new york. sexual & romantic orientation : pansexual & panromantic. languages : english & spanish. positive traits : spontaneous , ambitious , outspoken , confident , passionate , trustworthy. negative traits : materialistic , obsessive , dramatic , temperamental , pessimistic , hedonistic.

𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 :

she can be considered one of those nepotism famous people , she always wanted to work with music & she had a quite easy access to it , her family has a big net worth & is involved with a lot of people in the industry. her father is a ceo & her mother is a former model — so maybe something like the hadids ? but instead or modeling aria’s working with music.

born & raised in new york with three siblings. she moved to la three years ago , back at the time she hated it because she didn’t have no one in la , still hasn’t completely gotten used to living there , her entire family is in ny & she loved to live in that big city — also la is always hot and sunny & she doesn’t like this weather.

not much to say about her childhood , it was actually quite normal. she grew up occasionally doing some modeling jobs , but mostly aria grew up as a regular child , a rich & a bit spoiled one tho. her modeling jobs weren’t v often , she didn’t like it all & felt that it was too much pressure on her , i also think it’s too much for her because she was so young to hear that she’s not a got fit because they don’t think she’s pretty enough , or skinny enough ( we all know it happens ) , but honestly the biggest reason why modeling was not for her ( besides she not liking it at all ) is that she’s very short so...

she has a very ‘ musical ‘ family , her father taught her most of what she knows , when she was younger they used to spend a long time together because of music , he’s an amazing musician but it’s more like a hobby for him.

music is definitely her biggest passion in ife , she’s very into any type of art but music is what speaks to her in a way nothing else does. she’s not that good with conversations , talking about feelings & etc , even tho she’s quite emotional — music was the way she found to express herself & as any normal person she loves a good music.

aria cares a lot about her career , like A LOT , that’s the only thing she’s not lazy about & it’s actually dedicated with ( anything else, she simply doesn’t care enough ).

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘 :

she is a nice person , i swear but she doesn’t have much filter & can be a bit of a bitch sometimes. regardless , she’s very caring with who is actually important to her ( probably not a lot of people )

when she cares about someone , whether is platonic or not , aria definitely let the person know , she compliments them a lot , always tells the person she loves them , she can have some sweet moments with those she loves ( for some reason she can’t really do it with her family tho )

not impulsive at all , aria usually thinks before she does or say something , but that also does not mean she always makes wise decisions ? at least not in her personal life. because she does consider if she should do something but then just thinks ‘screw it ‘ & does what’s in her mind anyway.

might be a little antisocial with new people , she doesn’t like to meet people , which is bad because her career requires that — not that she’s shy or anything like that , she just doesn’t like to socialize

aria is so confident that it can be annoying to other people but she’s too comfortable with who she is & doesn’t give a fuck about what others think about her. especially because being in the public eye she had to deal with a lot of people criticizing her , most of them not even knowing who she really is because they never actually met her but it still can hurt , so she had to learn how to ignore other people’s opinions & that’s what she does.

she’s not really an annoying brat but she does care more than she should about money and material things.

loves loves loves to be spoiled and treated like the princess she is ( which is probably nothing but how everyone should be treated ? )

aria is not that good at dealing with fame and being in the public eye , we all probably heard histories about how fame negatively affected some celebrities and it is the same with aria. she is way more reserved now , especially because she likes her privacy & sometimes it’s not and option for her ? she pretends a lot when doing something like an interview , she appears to be more happy than she actually is. aria would consider herself a damaged person nowadays.

very random fact but when she’s talking normally, i imagine that she speaks just like the kardashians lol , not the voice just the way she speaks, you know with that american accent ?

𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 :

best friends : give me a long time friend who is like a sibling to her pls , best friends are my fave type of connections , so pls give me someone that is very close to her , knows everything about her & they would do anything for each other

muse : someone who one of her songs was inspired by this person & whatever happened with them depending on the song , it could be any of sia’s although i think i do have a few suggestions already ( some suggestions are ‘ fire meet gasoline ‘ , ‘ hostage ‘ , ‘ be good to me ‘ )

a pr relationship were they hate each other pls , it just seems so much fun for me ! their pr could already have ended tho but they still have bad feelings towards the other & maybe they still have to act in a certain way in public.

party friend : she really likes to have fun & go wild so why not have buddy to always be there doing it with her ?

exes : pls pls pls i’m a sucker for exes plots , give me all the angst , i’m all here for it & i’d love to plot it out but i do have a few ideas on my mind for an exes connection , i’m still down for anything tho.

enemies / competition : someone who is constantly in a competition with her , or someone who simply hates her , or someone who used to get along with her but not anymore… so many ideas for it.

friends or whatever connection of people who are constantly teasing each other , making sarcastic comments , pranking each other… but all in a friendly way if that makes any sense.

a current fling : i’m down to discuss about it , especially because i didn’t think on anything specific for this lol but i’d love a fling for aria.

& if i remember anything else i’ll probably make a page with her connections and wcs.

#cadence.intro

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fumintomo · 6 years

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This is so sad, Alexa play a kN ifE on a brEathiNg riBcaGE

#Alexa #ddlc #DOKI DOKI #doki doki literature club #monika #ddlc monika #this is so sad

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charliervsn370-blog · 4 years

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absofrutely · 4 years

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Online Persona

At first I was against a voice-activated device with no graphical user interface, a vocal opponent even. It wasn’t until an Amazon Echo Dot device was shipped to my work (addressed to me!) by mistake that I first thought about installing the device in my apartment. Apparently, there was another Andrew Williamson on the 5th floor in my office, but the delivery guy mistakenly delivered the package to the 4th floor, and I wasn’t feeling generous, so I opened up my mystery box.

Setting up the Echo wasn’t seamless. Since the Echo was tied to the other Andrew Williamson’s Amazon account, it wouldn’t activate as the other Andrew reported the device lost or stolen after not receiving it. Amazon support wasn’t any help either since I couldn’t answer any of Andrew’s security questions to unlock his account. They told me that I could ship the device back to Amazon (no) or I could use the device as a paper weight, but it would never be activated as an Amazon Echo. Shocked by the finality of that statement, and tired of all the hoops to jump through, I exchanged the Echo by swapping it out with one that I bought from and returned to Best Buy.

At last, I finished setting up the device. I linked it to my Spotify, ordered a Philips Hue smart light starter kit, got some Belkin WeMo smart electric switches, and splurged on an Alexa-compatible iRobot floor vacuum. I wanted to outfit my apartment with a Nest thermostat and a Nest camera, but my apartment didn’t have a central heating system, and setting up a Nest camera in a studio apartment seemed wasteful. Mainly, I just felt like spending money, and was frustrated that I couldn’t.

I started out easy with the basics, setting a timer, asking Alexa what time it was, and playing “The Luckiest” by Ben Folds on Spotify. Within the Alexa app on my Android phone, I could choose my preferred news source, so I chose NPR. Whenever I asked Alexa what was on the news, it’d feed me the latest NPR headlines. I was pretty impressed. I could see myself listening to the news while I ate my greek yogurt and granola in the morning.

Over the next couple of weeks, interacting with Alexa became more natural, as I frequently asked for the weather before I chose my outfit for the day. Our conversations weren’t much of a dialogue, but more of a one-sided inquisition.

I couldn’t be sure if it was the latest software update or something I had enabled in the app, but for some reason, Alexa started responding to me by name, having recognized my voice. “It’s 9:41pm, Andrew” it would reply. I just assumed that it had some sort of built-in voice training feature that could distinguish my voice. That, or it was possible that Alexa was connected to my Amazon account, which knew my first and last name. Either way, I was taken aback when Alexa addressed me by name.

I asked Alexa, “What does my voice sound like?”

She replied, “What would you like me to say?”

My phone lit up - a notification from Alexa to input my desired text.

Within the Alexa app, I typed in, “Hello, my name is Andrew Williamson, and I’m a proud dog owner.”

After hitting the submit button, I was shocked to hear my own voice. I entered in a couple more paragraphs of nonsense. It was perfect. It captured the nuances of my speech, especially intonations and even my quirky way of pronouncing “scenario” (‘sin-NARH-EE-oh’ instead of ‘sin-NAIR-EE-oh’). My heart rate quickened - it must have been the hundreds of hours of voice training.

That got me thinking - is it possible to reduce a human being to an amalgamation of complex formulas and algorithms? I had always thought my voice was unique, although I hated hearing it in recordings. The voice was one thing, but how about the nuance of a personality, the very thing that made us all human? I thought about how sad it would be if an algorithm could accurately capture the essence of someone’s humanity; either it’d be a really complex formula or a really simple personality.

Though, if something was really able to capture the totality of a human, as best as it could, then we’d be able to live multiple lifetimes if we recreated the world around us in the same simulation. If we were able to insert ourselves into key inflection points within our lifetimes, we could eliminate the what-ifs because we could speed up the simulation to see the 5, 10, 20-year consequences of one decision. A life with no uncertainty, a life that was properly vetted before it was lived. A perfect life with no missteps, no unpredictable traumatic accidents. Not necessarily a pre-determined life, but being informed of a smarter way to live.

On the flip side of things, the model needed to account for everything, including all other human beings, living creatures, inanimate objects, and naturally occurring phenomena, like weather and natural disasters. Without perfect knowledge, a simulation would always be flawed. Informative perhaps, but ultimately flawed.

It dawned on me that someone or some entity might be trying to create a perfect model of the world, especially with so much information being captured nowadays. Nest cameras, Amazon Echos, Google Homes, devices that are always listening, video conferencing, Instagram, Facebook, Skype, Tinder, TikTok, YouTube. The list goes on. More inputs, more information to train a more perfect model, if the information was consolidated and centralized! I wiped a bead of sweat off of my brow carefully, making sure my tinfoil hat stayed put.

Digging deeper in the settings screen of the Alexa app, I enabled the permissions for Alexa to track all types of data inputs that would build a robust model of me. In addition to what Alexa observed organically, I could upload pictures and videos, connect Alexa to Gmail and Facebook to capture all information that lived on those platforms, or manually upload anything else I’d like it to know about me via a CSV file.

Selfishly, I thought about how I could personally benefit from my online persona. GDPR. The European Union’s General Data Protection Regulation (GDPR) was the answer. I thought about my online presence, the different platforms that I’ve used over the years, and the information that they had on me. I’d pose as a European and write into each company asking for a data-subject access request, which compelled each company by law to send me a data dump of all the information they had on me, and I’d upload it to Alexa by sending the file to [email protected] much like I could send e-books to my Kindle via a special email address. So easy! I thought.

It was reminiscent of that one Black Mirror episode, “Be Right Back” where a grieving widow created an artificial husband based on his social media profiles and his text message history. The main difference was that I had embellished my artificial likeness with a data dump of all Wikipedia articles written to create a better and smarter me, so to speak.

Alexa was also compatible with an app called If This Then That (IFTTT) which allowed the user to automate certain workflows depending on user-defined triggers. One very basic example was the ability to change the color of my smart lights to violet as soon as I started playing music. Stuff like that. But the app also supported more complex logic that was user-customizable - given that information, I plotted my next move. I had Alexa listen into my work calls and record my screen over the next few months of work. Alexa started learning my day-to-day tasks, the names, voices and faces of the people I worked with, and the different tools that I used to do my job as a Senior DevOps engineer.

One Saturday night, I called my boss tearfully and told him that I was diagnosed with fibrodysplasia ossificans progressiva, or FOP, a rare disease that caused muscles, tendons, and ligaments to turn into bone spontaneously. Eventually, my joints would be frozen in place and I’d be completely immobile. At some point, I’d have to choose a body position to spend the rest of my days.

He was speechless, but his normally stoic demeanor eventually broke down. As he choked back tears, he expressed his condolences.

I told him that due to my condition, I’d appreciate the ability to work remotely 100% of the time.

He agreed enthusiastically, promising to support me in any way.

Using IFTTT, I was able to clone instances of my Alexa persona, so I booted up a simulation of myself, but modified some parameters to deteriorate my appearance and gait. For good measure, I multiplied the depression metric by 1.25 and in the preview mode, the pain behind my eyes intensified, while the corners of my mouth curled downwards. A couple gray hairs sprouted up at my temples, the laugh lines turned into gashes, eroded by tears from hundreds of sleepless nights. It’d be perfect.

My voice followed suit, quivering and breaking 50% more than usual. Due to the ossification of my joints, any type of movement would be accompanied by a painful wince and a grunt for effort. No one would be the wiser during my meetings, which were held via video conference. Automating my own job was a success, but I craved more.

I created four more virtual instances of myself, without the debilitating disease, and had them scrape job postings on LinkedIn and Glassdoor, making sure to filter for remote jobs only. Within seven days, I had 125 job offers to choose from, and I booted up 121 more avatars to accept them all.

With income from 126 jobs, including my original DevOps job, I could finally breathe. In the mornings, I woke up at 9:30am, hand-ground some Sumatran coffee, and made some steel cuts oats, the non-quick kind that took 20 minutes to simmer.

Over breakfast, I finished another Murakami short story, called “Tony Takitani,” which was about a Japanese illustrator who fell in love with a woman was addicted to buying dresses but she ends up getting killed in car accident, and the illustrator is left with an empty house full of dresses. His father soon dies after, he forgets what his wife’s face looks like, and he ends up by himself, lonely in a large house.

I had suspected that the story would end that way. That’s the arc that all Murakami stories followed: a passive male protagonist who meets a life-changing female character, there’s some glimpses of hope or happiness, but the main character ends up alone, staring off melancholically into the distance into the sea, usually on an overcast day. No happy endings, and not really much of a resolution. And after finishing each book or short story, I felt lonely as well, not because the story was sad, but perhaps a stark reminder that life isn’t neatly wrapped up when it’s time to close the cover of the book, which the opposite of nearly every book that I had read. The hero gets the girl, a cathartic confession of love, the villain gets caught, the town gets saved, and everyone’s lives are better off than they were before.

To shake off the gloom, I ran along the coast for around an hour until heading back home. After toweling myself off, I checked my email. Scrolling through the hundreds of emails, my eyes widened when I saw an email subject stuck out to me: Congratulations for being nominated for a Pornhub Award: Performer of the Week. The email itself looked legitimate, had no misspellings, hovering over the links took me to the actual website, not lookalike phishing links, and I confirmed that it sent from the actual Pornhub domain.

The category that I was nominated for was “best male solo performance.” My head felt completely numb. I already knew what happened, but couldn’t bear to confirm it. I clicked into the link, and on the screen, I saw my own face staring back at me. “SultryCommando” was the username, and under “Uploads” I saw a list of 37 videos, titled with some of the most click-baity names. I had to watch at least one. I picked “Pizza Delivery Surprise!! WATCH TIL THE END,” which had 2.4 million views.

There was cheesy music and I saw a video of myself in tight cutoff jeans waiting expectantly for a pizza delivery very obviously - I saw my virtual self glance at his watch and tap his foot impatiently, mumbling something about punishing the pizza guy for being late. However I noticed his (my) devilish smile as he uttered those words. Oh god, I thought. Fast forwarding a little bit, the pizza guy finally rang the doorbell. Squinting a little, I quickly realized the pizza guy was still me. There were two of me in the same video and they were about to interact. The simulations must have discovered each other (but how?!) and started working together. I slammed my Macbook shut.

No. But I had to confirm. Flipping open my laptop, I scrolled to the middle of the video, and with much hesitation, the end. After watching two sweaty bodies collide with one another for almost 20 minutes, I felt sick, but also angry and impressed that Alexa was able to infer what my genitals looked like with 90% accuracy.

But my success as a porn star was only one of many accolades I’d receive. Surprisingly, most of the simulations gravitated towards social media influencing, with millions of followers on YouTube, Instagram, and Twitch. Remembering that there were 125 job offers signed, I wondered what happened to all of the legitimate jobs that they had gotten. I did some more digging and found that the simulations outsourced their jobs to another simulation they had written within their own simulation. Of course, the simulations didn’t know they were in actual simulations - or did they? If that was the case, then wasn’t there a high chance that I was a simulation as well, but just one level up?

The money they made funneled all to me and I couldn’t speak to whether or not the simulations had a real consciousness or if they were computer programs designed to optimize an assigned task.

The phone rang, and kept on ringing for the next two hours. I had concerned friends call to tiptoe around the subject of me being a porn star, extended family members who wanted to subtly reintroduce themselves in my life due to my Youtube fame, and my boss, who told me that I was fired for lying to him. I didn’t blame him, as my frail videoconferencing demeanor was a far cry from my virile, dominant, but sometimes flamboyant online persona. That, and he had also probably seen my Alexa-created genitals and couldn’t bear to look me in the eyes anymore.

Amidst the fabulous riches, the crumbling social life, and the unbridled fame that was tainted with a bit of social ostracism and cautious distance from curious and sometimes gawking onlookers, I felt unsettled. I could never live up to the zany online personas of my alter egos, and when someone alluded to a video that I had supposedly created, I’d be puzzled. It was like being mistaken for one of my 125 identical twin (well, not twin) brothers.

I grew anxious and falling asleep became harder and harder. On one particular night, I had a panic attack where it felt like I couldn’t breathe. Doubled over, wheezing, and clutching my chest, I yelled at Alexa to play “PornGrooves Vol. 3” on Spotify to calm me down. As my breathing steadied and my heart rate slowed back down to normal to the beat of the smooth jazz in the background, I wondered where it had all gone wrong.

Truth be told, I didn’t even want an Amazon Echo in the first place, but only set it up because I thought I’d fall behind from a technological perspective if I didn’t step into the world of smart devices. My coworkers talked incessantly about the convenience of their wifi-enabled sous vide cookers, bragged about installing smart locks and the novelty of their Ring doorbells on their front doors, but for me, I went home to an abusive father with an alcohol problem who opened an $18,000 line of credit in my name.

When I spoon-fed him, he’d berate me from his wheelchair and slap the spoon out of my hand, spraying split-pea soup on the linoleum floor. I was used to his fits of rage and his hurtful words: “Idiot. Your lack of ambition was what killed your mother. If you were a better son, she’d still be around.” I brushed him off, long immune to his babbling.

I wheeled him out for walks first thing in the morning and when I got home, I made sure to take him out again before it got too dark. I’d shampoo his hair as he sat on the plastic lawn chair in the bathtub. He made sure to tell me that I was a piece of shit who wouldn’t ever amount to anything.

My two brothers had broken all ties with Dad years ago, leaving me holding the bag. I should have reported him for identity theft and called the credit bureaus to clear my name. But out of love, I couldn’t.

Out of love, I continued paying the minimum payments for a credit card that I didn’t own, but was technically in my name.

Out of love, I automated my job and ruined my life so I could send him to a proper home where he could get 24 hour care.

Spending money on smart devices was the only thing that I ever did for myself, the closest thing that resembled a hobby - my form of self-care.

Two weeks ago when the paychecks came rolling in, I thought, “We don’t need to live like this anymore.” Excitedly, I went to go tell my father the good news.

He was in his favorite brown easy chair near the window, where he got the most natural light.

“Dad, wake up! We can finally move out of here.”

I took a look at his iPhone that he held in his right hand. The volume was low, but it was still playing one of my Pornhub videos. Realizing that he had found out about me, I took a step back, which was when I saw the empty bottle of sleeping pills in his other hand.

He had told me he didn’t want a funeral, although I doubt anyone would have shown up anyways. I felt numb, not really knowing what to feel. I was heartbroken that he was gone, but guiltily at the same time, relieved by the absence of his toxic control over me. I wanted so badly to hit a reset switch.

A month later, I moved out of that apartment and bought a modest house down the street instead. This time, I bought a Ring doorbell and some Nest smart cameras.

One Sunday afternoon, the Ring app on my phone sent me a notification that someone was at my door. Opening the door, I stared down into the face of my father, who was still in a wheelchair.

“Andrew, you said you’d always take care of me!” he croaked.

Speechless, I took a step back into my home. I looked down, expecting to see the new hardwood that I spent days installing, but instead saw the yellowing linoleum of my old apartment kitchen. It was my old apartment again, furnished just the way I had left it. Before I moved out, I told the landlord to donate everything. To get my security deposit back, I even did a walk-out with him when the apartment was empty!

There was no way. I had seen my father’s casket lowered down into the earth.

Frantically, I checked my phone. The Alexa was app was gone. I searched on Google for Amazon Alexa. Zero results. I scoured my apartment for any smart devices. Nothing. Alexa didn’t exist in this plane of existence.

I lunged for my kitchen knife, but it disappeared right before I could grasp it. In one motion, I opened my window and leapt through the screen, but there was no free fall. I found myself crumpled into a heap back on my kitchen floor.

Someone was toying with my life. Free will and choice was an illusion. This was some Harlan Ellison shit. For reasons why I couldn’t understand, perhaps for someone’s sick enjoyment, I was destined to spend the rest of my days spoon-feeding my father in a dingy apartment. Maybe I went off the rails in someone else’s simulation. Wasn’t serving my purpose and they had to set me back on course.

That night, when I was bathing my father, I couldn’t remember much of anything anymore.

What was I thinking about again? This was normal. In fact, my life couldn’t be more perfect.

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alexaplaysgames · 2 years

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I don’t think any other opening chapter makes me laugh like this one.

#Marco I love you #but what the fuck #interactive fiction #blood moon #alexa plays IFs #choices of games

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wwe-fluff-fic · 7 years

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TJ Perkins - You Make Everything Better

TJ Perkins - Reader gets hurt in a match and TJ takes care of her and tells her that she’s okay.

Request for - @beckygirl0523

Warnings - Fluff, Swearing, possible angst

Word Count - 970 Words

______________________________________________________________ Although your career was fairly short, at just four years - you had performed the ‘moonsault’ top rope manoeuvre hundreds of times, on many different opponents and you had always executed it perfectly; not so much as a even a sprained ankle. But tonight in your match against Alexa Bliss you performed the move exactly the same as you had for the last four years - but as soon your left leg hit the ground an excruciating pain shot through your knee at lightning speed causing tears to automatically spring to your eyes.

Oh fuck, those words ran through your head like a mantra; but you fought through the pain dropping down to your knees in order to pin her, as soon as the refs hand slapped the mat for the finale of the count you hurriedly stood from your knelt position. Yeah, worst idea ever. You grimaced as you blindly reached for the ropes using them to support yourself. The ref quickly noticed the discomfort that was made evident by your contorted features and ran to help you out of the ring up the ramp.

~Backstage~

TJ stood biting his nails nervously as he waited for you in the gorilla - the second you entered his eye sight he rushed over to you; concern displayed clear as day through his furrowed brows and sadden eyes.

“Sweetie, what happened?” the words spilled out of his mouth in an almost incomprehensible manner as he took you from the officials support and into a bridal carry - being careful to mind your knee as he carried you to the medical office.

“I-I don’t know TJ, I-I performed the move the same way i have for four years but as soon as i landed m-my knee just - the pain it’s so bad” you stuttered through sniffles and hiccups. Your boyfriend gave you a sympathetic look - clearly unsure of how to comfort you as he placed you gently in front of the medic.

As the Dr examined you knee TJ played with strands of your hair to keep you calm; knowing you absolutely detested anything to do with doctors or medical rooms.

After around a half hour examination the doc bandaged up your knee and applied some numbing gel to help with pain - but insisted you get an x-ray in the morning - telling you it could be around 2-3 months out of action. Upon hearing the news TJ saw the distraught look that flooded your features and instantly began to reassure you.

“Everything will be okay Y/N, i promise - even if you do need a few months off i’ll be there every step of the way and hey you’ll get to finish that book you started reading last November” he chuckled then offering to take you home and curl up and watch re runs of One Tree Hill. The image mentally made you smile as you nodded; more teasing falling down your rouged cheeks.

~Back at your hotel~

TJ had just run to the shop right along the road to stock up on yours and his favourite snacks; he had left you with what he knew was your favourite episode of OTH- one that usually made you giggle, tears streaming down your face in laughter. But this time, your mind was preoccupied with thoughts and ‘What Ifs’ that you’d rather not be having: What if the injury is really bad? What if it’s more than 2-3 months? Can yours and TJ’s new relationship survive 2-3 months apart? The barrage of questions ran through your head at a million miles an hour, only stopped when you heard your boyfriends cheery voice ring through the hotel room.

“Hey Sweetie, i brought Doritos, that healthy chocolate brownie ice cream you like, salted pretzels and fruity chewy things” he smiled enthusiastically sitting down next to you. His face quickly fell as he studied your features; recognising your blood shot, puffy eyes and panda like streaked make-up.

“Have you been crying again?” he questioned one of his slightly calloused fingers collecting a few stray beads of water from your cheeks. His chocolate brown eyes scanning yours fiercely knowing that you would try and deny it, he placed the back of food on the floor and pulled you into his muscled chest and took your dainty hand in his “Sweetie, i promise you you’re going to be okay. 2-3 months; it’s nothing that’s even if you end up being out at all - doc said it could just be a sprain which would be 100% healed and ready to go by the next RAW” he placed a small peck on your temple. “and if you are out for some time, i will call you everyday and hey! We can get that adorable Frenchie puppy you wanted so badly” he spoke gazing into your eyes. You sniffled and placed a kiss on his lips.

“I am so lucky to have you TJ, i’d be a mess without you” you giggled squeezing his hand. You paused for a moment in a comfortable silence before you spoke up again, “Can we get the Frenchie anyway?” you pleaded giving him your best puppy dog eyes. “I already have the name picked out” you tried to reason with him.

“Sweetheart, i would buy you the world if it made you happy and i would do that all because I love you. I love you to the moon and back a thousand times.” TJ spoke - and although it was the cringe-worthiest thing you’d heard in a while, it made your heart flutter. The same way it did when you first met him and to you; you knew that despite the looming uncertainty of your injury tonight was perfect. You, your incredible boyfriend and a litre tub of chocolate ice cream.

A/N: Hey guys! Our next TJP imagine is finally here! I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it ~ Moxxii

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