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himehikoshrine · 3 months ago

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I was assigned a reply essay by Elie to this post to be submitted via tumblr post. Perhaps this will be the kick in the butt I need to use this site again. No promises.

It’s a bit late, in classic Neji fashion (Kai says in a pre-release short story that Neji is the last of the third years to turn in assignments because he will work on everything but.) I will attempt to distill my thoughts from the discussion had prior to this as well, maybe they will be more articulate, maybe less.

It will contain spoilers for most of the game here and there but very much on Neji route, naturally. And every version of I Am Death.

Before I start, I want to say I love reading your analysis and would be happy to read more or anyone elses, and my disagreement isn't a 'gotcha', it's my thoughts because I was specifically asked for a response post here. Also, while my ultimate take is that the "women" thing is not the root of most of the issues, it'd be silly to say Neji doesn't have hang ups and a twisted up narrative about it. He's got ... so many twisted up narratives about all kinds of things. That's kind of his entire deal. And when he tries to untwist them he still keeps snagging on his instinct to find a story to tell. So this isn't meant to be me saying he's somehow clear eyed on the subject. Far from it. I think it's more twisted up on a different level than he fully can reach, at least in his first attempt to grasp it. The lines in third event are:

Neji: I’m downright scared that I might lose everything if I fall in love with a girl… Neji: In other words, females are an existence that I want to avoid as much as possible. Neji: But there’s no way I can make a play without having genders involved. Neji: Which is why I came to Univeil. Kisa: Because there are no girls there…? Neji: Yeah… To add, I can create stories with both genders involved with female roles being played by Jeannes. Neji: Univeil is the perfect place for me.

It is first worth noting that the translation seems to fall into tropes on Neji’s lines in this scene specifically. The word Neji uses here is josei (女性), the same word Kisa uses in her lines in this scene. Females is not all together inaccurate, but it has Connotations that the word he’s using does not. This is very fun, too, because on Kisa route, Neji actually creates a role without gender involved. I find it fascinating that Kisa Route Sissia is not discussed as “something between a Jack and a Jeanne” but something that transcends the entire concept of gender. It’s not a mix, or an androgynous role. It’s something beyond the category system. But I don’t read in these lines him saying he wants to avoid taking inspiration from them, or that he can only write women if he is able to think of them as men playing women. If anything he kind of seems to understand that the full breath of human experience, which is what theater is about, can’t be done without gender, and can’t be done with half of that experience removed. So Univeil means he can do theater without The Scary Thing without having to chop a huge part of human experience out of his stories. At Univeil, plays can have girls in them and be performed without actual girls to interact with because of Jeannes.

But it is very true that Neji understands Jeannes specifically as girls-played-by-men, and he talks about this on his route with Kisa after winter. That the Chicchi in his mind is a Jeanne, and Kisa played Chicchi as A Girl, and that was something beyond and different what he was imagining. We don’t get that much explanation of what this distinction means to Neji, or to other people in Univeil, but drawing from Takarazuka and Kabuki, cross gender roles are stylized by the format and tradition. They are always talked about in the way Neji is describing Jeannes here. Otokoyaku are “women’s vision of men for women” and Onnagata are “men’s depiction of femininity”. There’s an artifice to it that is viewed as stylistically important to the way the roles are performed. It’s unclear to me from these lines if Neji prefers doing this out of a sense of it being safer, or if he’s simply talking about what a Univeil play *is* and what his expectations were because of it. He doesn’t seem to mind it artistically — remember he’s always seeking things beyond his imagination, but he’s staggered by the other implications. He doesn’t ever seem to take issue with it as a performance.

Unrelated to this post, I think this is something interesting about how Kisa chooses to play Chicchi, maybe because of the time pressure at which she chose to do it. She isn’t playing Chicchi as Kisa playing a boy playing a girl. She’s playing Chicchi as a girl playing a girl. This is what Neji and also Chui are picking up on when they talk about it. The game doesn’t do that much to differentiate what these might be like, but they seem to be different. (Actually in one of the 4koma we see Kisa explaining to Sou why being a Jeanne is actually harder for her — exactly because of this extra layer.)

I will admit I am uniquely ill suited to explain what this distinction might be, all I can do is give the context. The fact that Neji has no issues writing Sissia on any route inspired by someone he seems to know is a girl (though with Neji he can know stuff and also not know them so it’s left very unclear if he knows on other routes or not) suggests that ‘drawing from women’ isn’t a problem? I feel like that claim, that Neji feels like he can’t or doesn’t want to draw from women to write, only from men, is kind of…. impossible to prove or disprove within the context of the game? He may be drawing from Fumi or Mitsuki for his women, but he’s still writing them as women in the world of his play. I don’t know that I see where the leap from “Neji draws inspiration from the people around him and produces complex, agency filled, compelling female characters” can quite be taken to “only because those people are men.” I also don’t know if it’s entirely true — obviously the way the game works, he’s taking from the people around him because these are their roles, and these people are men. But I would bet big bucks that Neji is drawing from the women and girls he’s known in his life as well. The girls in middle school he was class-clown friends with, random women in town he interacts with, and also probably…. his mother. The whole world is grist for inspiration for this guy. We know he’s drawing from a mythological woman — I’ll talk more about Takihime later. But also? He’s drawing from the mistress. In ways that are far, far more deep than his conscious mind is ready for. Domina is not a shallow character. Neji gets scolded for acting her like one. She’s not written as one, at all. If we’re taking the Havenna Drop poems into consideration, even less so. But saying Neji’s female characters are only complex because they are inspired by men doesn’t quite click for me. They are inspired by men because Neji is surrounded by men and inspired by what’s around him. He clearly doesn’t see women has having less of an interior life, given that he writes them as having interior lives as rich as the people that inspire them. What Neji’s line is in his scene on 1/16 is entirely about the women he *plays*, not the ones he writes.

And even that, I think is not a full conclusion, which I think the route itself tells us later, when we see how badly he struggles to give Crowley depth on stage. But I don’t want to get ahead of myself here, as I’m trying to go vaguely in order of your post. It also doesn't accurately describe these women, and the specific accusation, as unpredictable, erratic, in the moment, actually describes Neji HIMSELF more than it describes the vengeance driven Takihime or the status driven Domina. Maybe Domina has the "essence" of someone's lover, but Employee A, joke that she is, does not. I fully agree that it’s love and connection that make Neji’s plays great. That’s a game theme thing. Theater is a thing you do with others. Flawed, messy, imperfect people, as he tells Chui. Theater is about connection. It’s the love of others as well as the genuine love of the stage. Mitsuki says something similar to Kamiya and Momonashi. That without the passion, the roles will be hollow. Even when Neji is playing silly goofy bit parts, he still has a passion for the stage. Quartz’s superpower is heart, and I firmly believe that Neji’s heart grows many sizes from the magic powers of friendship that surround him there.

In fact, I think love of the stage is a key to understanding his character and his psychodrama he’s written for himself. It is not his father cheating on his mother that’s the problem, and the way he talks about it makes this pretty clear. Neji is very, very aware that his mother was horribly wounded in the whole situation, as little as he talks about her (she is a mystery I come back to over and over) but what his father “cheated” on was the stage. He fell in love. He looked away. He fell in love with something other than the stage and in turn, he lost the stage.

This is closer to where Neji gets in his best end post credit scene. He says the formulation of the ‘pact’, now that he has some distance from it, was about giving up everything to his imagination. The rest of his life entire. It’s not even about romantic love, let alone women — love is just, especially in an otome game, the biggest sacrifice of the bunch. But Neji’s characterized very specifically as having a lot to go around. So much so that he’s said to never be able to direct it all at just one person, in ways that are funny to read more into if you want. In his new birthday story, you see that he’s actually constantly agonizing over only being able to dedicate himself to so much — every path he picks, because of how the world and time and cause and effect work, precludes another. The stages are infinite, the time is limited. Curse or no curse, the curse of time continues. I am getting distracted again, oops. I think I will save my I Am Death thoughts for your part about Takihime, else I will just talk about I Am Death again for a novel’s worth of material. Putting a pin in it. A shiny glowy pin. Onward through your post. My thesis on Neji has always been that the scariest thing is just. Being a person. Being seen as one, seeing himself as one. He is, as I think is very much his pattern in general, both fascinated by this mystery and scared of solving it.

If you aren’t on his route, during the talk about Domina, he’ll say that if they had more time, Kisa might be able to show him what kind of person he is. This seems to be something he wants. If you are (as in, have the most affection with him as an LI) then instead he says that he tries to see talent as other people see faces, but somehow looking at Kisa’s is scary. He specifically says this about her talent, which Chui tells us is that she reflects the deepest part of someone. He both wants this and is scared of it.

As a side bar, because I can’t stop getting stuck on those, this “I don’t know who I am and I don’t know if that person is a good person” is a trait he shares with fellow 3Q members. It comes up for both Kai and Fumi as well. Neji says on his route that he thinks Fumi and Kai both have a better sense of who they are as people than him, despite growing up differently than others, but when you play they’re routes its very clear they struggle immensely with it. Kai straight up says he doesn’t know much about himself at all, and when forced to confront it, starts having a breakdown, including considering himself a bad or dangerous person for having desires and needs. Fumi is constantly surprised by his own emotions and tells Kisa that being around her makes him learn things about himself. At the end of summer training camp, Fumi suggests that he may be one of those people Kisa would do better to shut out rather than let in.

This is a collective 3Q thing, which I think is fascinating. Interestingly, while Neji sees Fumi and Kai as better at it than him, Kai on several occasions comments Neji’s ability to be totally true to himself is something he admires or even finds comforting in Neji.

They all also have unique and interconnected struggles with responsibility vs freedom, and, especially with Fumi and Neji, what it means to be a ‘genius’ and how that dictates their worth. I’m skipping ahead in your post but I don’t think Fumi is nearly as ‘together’ as you wrote. I think Fumi is a mess who is better at hiding it and playing it off and, actually, to some extent lying to himself about it. I think Fumi comes off as kind of in a daze on his own route, unsure of himself and the changes in his world and how to navigate them, trying to find a story and grounding to cling to in a storm. Dammit Fumi, water is Neji’s thing! Just 3Q things. But this is a Neji post, ask for my essay on Fumi later, but I think we are reading him pretty differently.

Which brings me nicely into the next point, which is that I don’t think ‘putting people on a pedestal as a prize’ is a gendered thing Neji needed to learn for gendered reasons, at least in the view being set out by Jack Jeanne and it’s various materials, which — and I don’t have much experience with otome games outside of this one — is pretty neat of a game in the genre this is. I say it flows neatly because this image — this idea of being put on high as a thing to be adored and won and grabbed for — is something Fumi discusses with unnerving imagery in his birthday story. It’s not a thing Neji needed to learn from women. It’s a thing he’s surrounded by because of the world he’s in. When Neji says that worth is assigned by ability "in this world", he’s talking about the world of theater. And the thing is, he’s not wrong. All of them do, in fact, exist within a world where your worth is related to what you can do, not just who you are. The game dissects and analyzes this and critiques it from many, many angles, and Neji’s is for sure one of them. But Fumi’s sense of self is tied up in his own battles with the idea of genius, and Kai’s in what he can do for others. Sou’s sense of worth as a person is in the toilet in a way that is still deeply interconnected with his perception of his abilities. Even Suzu struggles with his normal healthy relationship with this that he has because he’s lost his ability before and been shown that he matters even without that — a rare breed indeed, someone with a healthy support network at Univeil. But this is something that puts him at odds with the entire culture around him in a way that is explored a good deal in side material. Everyone keeps looking at him as a Star instead of as just Suzu, the hard working, friendly teenage boy who’s still trying to make friends and figure things out like the rest of them. And that’s what stings about what Neji says — it’s not wrong, objectively, even if it is morally. I think Jack Jeanne does a lot of really interesting things unpacking and examining the problems with this thinking across the routes. But I also disagree that weekend lesson’s thesis is that it’s good that Kanna decided to do that. Even Hasekura, who was objectifying Shiroma, reacts quite negatively to Kanna’s proposal. Weekend Lesson is a Hallmark Original Movie, and it is certainly not doing anything remotely challenging with gender and society. I am on the record somewhere as thinking it’s the weakest of the set. But I don’t think it’s saying objectifying as object of desire is good. I think Kanna’s plan comes off as dumb to everyone but Louis who is just really excited about a chance to try something new and prove himself, more than he is about winning Shiroma in any way. He’s more interested in competing against Hasekura than winning Shiroma.

There’s an entire scene where Hasekura realizes that he doesn’t understand Shiroma at all, and had completely misunderstood the way he was coming across because he wasn’t viewing her as a person. He tries to call off the contest when he realizes this.

Conversely, Shiroma was scared of Hasekura because she couldn’t get a read on him at all as a person. When she saw him outside of work, as a person, he was less scary. Weekend Lesson, actually, is a play about struggling against the idea of people as cogs, a metaphor Neji gleefully uses to describe how he thinks of the stage. You’ve mentioned that Havenna is Neji writing about his own issues in a way that gives it power. I would argue they all are. Univeil puts incredible demands on its students. The Rhodonite Trio are seen as slackers for trying to enjoy stuff that isn’t The Grind. In Weekend Lesson, the thesis is actually that your value as a person REQUIRES you to be a person — not just a cog in the work machine, or in the off-work machine - doing other things just for the sake of doing them, because that’s no better. It’s about finding who you are, what you’re strengths are, and where your passion lies, not in just working or not working because of the dictates of society.

I think maybe this, too, is something Neji is processing before he can face it. So in that sense too, it is very much a play that reflects Neji’s issues, and like with others, perhaps in a way that is in fact maybe more processed. Also worth considering that Sleepless King has the King as a prize to be won. The entire story is a contest to try to win a prize, and the Maiden states that the prize she wants if she wins is the King himself. But the way she actually “wins” it is only when she understands the Trauma that created the problem in the first place. She can’t actually “win” until she understands the King as a person. The exact thing the Maiden needs to learn and see is the thing Neji is, in his Neji way, most scared of and yet constantly drawn towards. His trauma. Why he is what he is. He takes Kisa to the beach in event 3, and it’s clear this is a scab he can’t stop picking at. He can’t process it and let it heal, but he can’t ignore it either. It’s waiting there at the back of everything, the sound of the waves. I’d say it’s burning back there, but Fire is Fumi’s. Neji’s got water. It’s waiting to bubble out and into everything. Not his fear of women so much as his trauma itself. His unresolved personal tragedy - everything he’s terrified of — loss of the stage, of meaning, of talent, of loved ones, of his father, of himself. Of the pain that goes with that and what it would mean to sit and process it all. The fear of what it means to just be… a person. But as soon as he reveals it, a thing he couldn't not pick at, he gets scared and tries to walk it back (but Kisa doesn't buy it for a second.) This is what's so scary to him. He just overshared and now he's suddenly being looked at like a person. Oops!

When Neji leaves on his route to watch Chui perform, Mitsuki says that Neji has become more human, and that he likes this Neji better. That’s what he’s running from. Just being a person. It’s something he has to lose his wings to be forced to do, and it’s painful and hard. But he has to accept himself as the messy imperfect person he is. Mary Jane, too, is a play about what it means to be a person and what it means to be alienated. Mary is Fumi, but Mary is also very much Neji himself. Havenna is not the first time Neji wrote himself into a play since Takihime. It’s everywhere. He’s always writing from himself, as much as he won’t realize that.

Back to your post.

I would disagree pretty strongly that Employee A is more cartoony than either Employee B or Ushinoko, and I would argue that Domina is not cartoony as written, but only when Neji tried to play her that way. Neither Domina or Facchio are joke roles. Otori is upset because he thinks Facchio is, and Neji is still trying to play Domina that way, but very clearly did not write her that way. That’s the tension he’s being called out on.

Mitsuki can tell Domina is a character with depth that Neji is not incorporating into his acting. In the Havenna poems, it’s painfully clear that Neji-the-writer sees Domina as a character who is shaped by her situation, and makes rational, painful choices in that setting. Her body is not a joke. It is part of the setting. She is a woman who grabbed agency and power via the path available to her, which was sex work. And she is proud of that. Her pride is hard one. Even when Neji is treating Domina shallowly, he understands this. He tells Kisa that Domina’s callousness maintains her position. That she can’t be empathetic because her role in the story and the city is sustained by heartlessness. She was never a joke character. Mitsuki isn’t yelling at Neji for writing her as one, but for trying to play it that way.

Of course Neji writes that backstory and then goes. Yeah, I don’t get her at all. That’s that classic Neji Kokuto move of processing things in the writing before he’s ready to face it. In so far as Domina is drawn from the mistress, she is LESS shallow for it. Because she and Facchio are a more processed version of that story than the one Neji has looked at outside of fiction. (It’s still just a story, of course. It’s still a story Neji, in his storyteller brain, is trying to impose on something full of unknowns.)

But Employee B is equally cartoon-y to A. I guess I’m confused. Are you expecting Employee B to also have tits? No, Otori’s pecs role is Bukuro. Still a Jack. (The ‘how well do you know Jack Jeanne quiz actually calls attention to this specifically. It asks which Otori role shows the most skin. The answer is Bukuro. It’s just none of it is on his face.) A and B are a pair, the same way Facchio and Domina are. In one, both are equally jokes. In the other, they equally are not.

And I don’t see how we can dismiss that the fortuneteller is also a Jeanne. Yes, Neji gives himself a Jeanne without tiddies. It’s not that the fortune teller isn’t gendered either. It is a gendered stereotype, just not a sexualized one. She’s a crone, and that’s the voice he’s doing — a trope voice for a trope character. Ushinoko is the same. The professorial voice he’s using is entirely a stock voice. It’s also a gendered trope and voice, and is absolutely cartoon-y. All the church ghosts are. That’s the tonal role they play in Mary Jane. I think Sister Ghost (the Jeanne, for what it’s worth) is the least like this. But they are all written cartoony. They exist to keep the play lighter in contrast to the depths the rest of it goes. Employee A doesn’t stand out to me at all here. Bukuro’s sacrifice at the emotional climax serves to heighten the tensions and emotions of that moment entirely because it’s a break from the cartoon.

I also don’t think that Weekend Lesson is a more mature play. I think they get more mature as they go - the setting of Weekend Lesson is “adult world with adult problems” but the stakes are low and the tone is very very light. It’s a Hallmark film. And a very specific letter to both Fumi and Kai, but that’s a different post Mary Jane is sillier, but also much much heavier at the same time.

(In Arata Forest, Neji also gives himself a Jeanne whose only role is ‘storyteller’. It feels outside the scope of this already stupid long reply to talk about how Neji will cast not-strongly-gendered-roles for himself as a jeanne, or the whole Gender?!?! of Neji’s character but most of the characters Neji writes about himself are also Jeannes. Takihime, Rukiora, Mary. Crowley is the exception and he actually proposes playing Crowley as a Jeanne at one point. It is very beyond the scope here to discuss if this is Neji putting distance between himself and the role, or not.) Is it Takihime time? I Am Death time? Did someone say “please talk about Takihime and I Am Death”?

I will say I am reading it completely differently here. Takihime is the protagonist of I Am Death. She is the protagonist of the mythohistory it is based on. In every summary given to you in game, you will note they are telling Takihime’s story, not the Gashadokuro’s. This is why, on Neji Route, trying to create an I Am Death without that role is an “impossible challenge”. In fact I Am Death is so very much Takihime’s story that in trying to make it entirely what Chui desires, the play struggles to hold together. And Takihime is Neji. Takihime was so very much written for him, as much as everyone likes to deny it. The story opens with her praying at a shrine linked to water about her lost father, trying to follow his path. Takihime is Takiyasha-hime, and her motivations in the story are to take vengeance for and complete the work of her father, Masakado. Takihime is not a straightforwardly villainous figure, just as Masakado is not. In fact, her determination is often framed in versions of the story as filial piety — even as duty — even as she fulfills it by unnatural means. She’s a vicious figure, yes. Dangerous, cunning, powerful. But she is Neji himself, railing against the loss of his father and that talent, and taking up the mantle and power and, well, if I’m being cheeky, revolution. But she does it in her own way, with magic and violence and a bloodstained smile.

This is about him, in that I think we’re in agreement. And I agree that being that much of himself on stage was too much for Neji to face, to the point where he says “Takihime wasn’t written for me” several times. Dumb dumb genius boy. Okay buddy, if you say so.

But Takihime does not tempt any man in this version. There IS a version where she does — see Kabuki/Nihon Buyo’s “Masakado” for Takihime pretending to be a courtesan to hide, which includes a seduction dance. Takihime of I Am Death summons a creature of the screaming bones and rage of her father’s fallen soldiers who asks to be her companion and lover. To have her entirely in exchange for sharing its power.

It is worth noting that what Neji says about the women he plays lacking interiority is not an accusation Chui levies against Takihime. It isn’t that Takihime doesn’t have depth or that Neji is playing something shallow, per se. It is that Neji cannot give his entire self to it. He cannot give his entire self to one role or one person. He is a bird, Chui says, flying above it all, and he will drown for want of landing.

But he doesn’t accuse Takihime of being without interiority. And that is an accusation Chui would very willingly make. Actually, he makes something pretty similar on Sou’s route. Momonashi has no sense of self, and thus his Takihime is completely hollow regardless of technical skill. That isn’t what he accuses Neji of.

It isn’t because Takihime is a woman that Neji struggles to put himself into it. It is, as you said, because it’s himself. And we see this when we watch him struggle with Crowley on his route.

(This is an accusation Neji makes about his women roles but look, it's not really about that). Off his route, Crowley is still more than he usually gives himself, something he says on Sou route. But the depth of it isn’t as much part of it.

When Neji tries to play a Jack that requires him to put himself into it, he struggles terribly. He’s completely lost, and he realizes that the problem all along has been that he’s scared to put himself into a role because that would require seeing what that is.

It is what Enishi says to Kisa in Winter — that rather than obscuring, good acting reveals the actor underneath. It’s being a person again. And he’s gotta be a person to be Crowley. The amount of a person he had to put into Takihime may well be one of the many factors that spooked him away from such roles, and potentially away from Amber, though I think it’d be way overly simplistic to reduce the Mystery Transfer down to a single cause when the game is constantly giving us different reasons and telling us there’s almost certainly more to it than we’ve been told. I think Neji struggled with how much of a person was revealed in himself with Takihime, and I would imagine being around Chui, who at several points in the game, in a glance, seems to be able to read through to the heart of someone’s emotions and issues, was in fact hard for Neji in his running away from himself.

But I also think Neji was shaken by what it meant to be that close to Godhood on the stage.

I said it before — the things he’s most drawn to are also things he fears. Who he is deep down, the open-ended and interpretative nature of stories. The messiness of human beings. The constant open wound of his own trauma. I Am Death both forces him to be more of a person AND gives a glimpse of and a path away from being a messy flawed person. Together with Chui, they could have reached the realm of the gods. And that is not a place Neji wants either of them to go. There is a remove from humanity in his reach and he leaves it behind to go play with messy, imperfect people and tell messy, imperfect stories. Something that he tries to do as the mechanic assembling gears but it polishes him as much as he polishes it, and becomes a place he loves as people and love him in turn as a person.

And what’s scarier than that? Found family, the power of friendship, truly those are the real final bosses.

Neji doesn’t want to be a person and he doesn’t want to be a god. He wants to be only a vessel for talent, and yet he’s constantly turning over and over the question of what else is there. Once he loses it, he’s forced to face it head on, and we watch him over and over try to apply stories to it, trying to find something that sticks. But people are imperfect, Neji. They are messy. There are things they can’t do, and that is why they can surprise you. That is why you chase it. That is how you find something beyond your imagination. A messy, imperfect person, with wounds and fears and trauma and limits and loss. And that’s what makes theater powerful. The only I Am Death that both of the original leads call truly complete as the same story as the original, like you said, is Kamiya’s. I Am Death is not completed by what Chui desires — the version of it that most reflects that, Kai’s route, where they take inspiration from Kisa’s Takihime read, Neji calls “a completely different story.” And it is a story that completely removes agency from the women at its center. I Am Death is actually a story about female agency, even if it is written for Chui to make his specific talents shine and reflect what he wants.

The story does not work with a Takihime that is nothing but a Vessel. I don’t think this is a mistake. It is very clear that Neji thinks that’s a disastrous path for Chui to take. The Takihime that makes the story complete is one who has agency, and is also capable of giving her entire self to the task. It requires someone who is willing to be a messy person, flaws and all, and use those flaws to make the role shine in and of itself. To give your whole self to the stage, yes, but not in the way Chui thinks he wants. Which is why Chui reaches the conclusion at the end of several routes that actually, the rivalries or the others on stage with him ARE the point. They make it stronger. I Am Death requires both its leads to be devoted to the mission (the stage) and to be pursuing it together in a shared vision.

In Kamiya’s version, that balance is reached. In Momonashi’s, Takihime is too hollow to hold. Takihime and the Gashadokuro pull in different directions in the CG. In Fumi’s, the roles are technically perfect, but there is no connection at all between the Gashadokuro and the Takihime’s. There is no shared goal or bond. Both exist, above it all, and separate from each other. In Kai’s, as I said, Takihime loses herself and her agency. She is entirely moved by the Gashadokuro. In Mitsuki’s nothing comes through at all but the power of the Gashadokuro. In Neji’s, Chui takes on the impossible task of removing Takihime’s centrality to the story. On Kisa route, the entire story is about the glaring absence at its center. A person defined by its absence, and because of Chui’s talent and Chui’s willingness to put his entire soul out there, the absence can take the shape of that person, the whole messy devoted frantic desperate powerful person. But she is missing.

But I agree - Sissia is a revolutionary. She is the anti-Takihime. She makes flowers bloom over the ashes of the dead instead of raising them up into a weapon. She creates rather than destroys. But I say “she” except that Sissia is not a “she”. Sissia is sometimes a “he.” Sissia is sometimes something beyond that. Sissia of the Central Nation is about a rag tag group of messy people who, through the power of art and collaboration, can change the world. It is a play about the power of theater, at its most fundamental, unpretentious level. It’s a circus that appeals to the heartstrings. And that changes the world. Anyway, that was a lot of words, so I hope it meets the assignment criteria. Please feel free to ask me follow-ups or other homework assignments that I will turn in late. Anyone else is also free to chime in, or send me other asks or questions, or tell me I'm taking this game entirely too seriously, I suppose. Though that last one would be a very silly ask to send a dedicated over-thinking blog. The shrine's comment and offering box are open!

A Slightly Warm Take on Neji and his Issues

So I kinda went into into it ealier on the jj brainrot discord because some of the folks didn't see what I was seeing in regards to some stuff about Weekend Lesson and Neji. I was in The Pain and a little delirious so I'm not sure if I made any sense, but after a few hours of stewing over it I still feel like I want to talk about it. Note I haven't replayed Neji's route or Fumi's route in awhile so this is mainly based off common route stuff and what I remember from their routes. Once I work on their dedicated analysis I'll be bringing this stuff up with more thought and detail. Or maybe I'll replay the route and I'll have a completely different conclusion. It's happened before.

MAJOR SPOILERS FOR NEJI'S ROUTE AND SOME LESS MAJOR BUT KINDA STILL IMPORTANT SPOILERS FOR FUMI'S ROUTE

So first of all let me put this out there. I love Neji. I think his plays are pretty solid. I do not think Neji hates woman. That's not the conclusion I'm getting to when I say "hey isn't the way Neji writes female characters a little weird" or "hey whenever Neji's plays more feminine Jeanne characters they're more cartoonish than the less feminine ones." This is NOT a Neji Cancellation post!!!

So with that disclaimer out of the way here's some of the takes I have.

Neji has Issues with Women

I stated it before and I'll say it again, I don't think Neji hates women. In fact I don't even think he even dislikes women. Dare I say, he might even respect women, which is better than a lot of high school boys! The issue here isn't him disliking women, it's his fear of engaging with women seriously. It's the imagined woman who his dad had an affair with in the back of his mind that prevents him from taking his roles as feminine Jeannes seriously.

That's not to say he doesn't know how to write Jeannes...but Jeannes are not just female characters in a vacuum. They're female roles meant to be played by boys. Neji has written these characters with the intention that they're all played by boys, from Fumi to Kisa* to Mitsuki. And some of his best Jeannes are great because of the great boys* surrounding him that inspires these characters. He takes no input from girls for these roles, and this isn't an accident. He went to Univeil partially because it's a boys only school, where he can both avoid engaging with girls and still write both male and female roles. Like, I feel like he said this in the 3rd event, but I was told this wasn't it? Again think of this as a draft version rather than a peer-reviewed product.

*The irony obviously being that one of them is actually a girl disguised as a boy, which unintentionally changes some of the characters he's written in compelling ways. Biggest example being Chicchi, a mysterious, talented and desired woman who he wrote to be played and is inspired by a mysterious, talented and desired boy. He's shocked at the transformation because he didn't realize Kisa was a lot more connected to Chicchi, giving her even more depth than either directed or written. It was a real "oh shit" moment for him, and even in the routes that aren't his I think this moment shaped how he then wrote Sissia, someone who also has a secret but still fights for their dream tooth and nail. It's interesting how for all his trouble-making the worst things he does are not out of maliciousness or even really intending to, but simple lack of knowledge. The parts where I want to shake him the most are less because of him and more because he doesn't knooooooooow....!!!

Neji Takes Inspiration From His Friends

As stated above a lot of the great Jeannes he writes are due to inspiration from his classmates. In fact that goes for all* of the roles he's written. He might be a genius, but I'd argue the real reason his stories are so compelling is because of the people he likes and is inspired by. That's why even when he "lost" his talent he was able to overcome it because of the class he constantly loves and is inspired by, and who in turn support and love him with or without his talent. Sappy as it sounds it wasn't the Genius Gene he inherited from his dad that makes his plays great, it's love. That also goes for his earnest and adorable junior Chui, when he made "I am Death" specifically for him, and even after leaving Amber he continues to want to give him things to succeed...except for Kisa, Kisa stays. That was another "oopsie" moment when he made someone for Chui who was meant to be impossible to find only to turn out they exist.

*The exception to this is...well...the roles he plays himself.

Neji Has Issues With Himself

Now to reiterate again, Neji doesn't hate women. In fact I think Neji is very aware he has Issues with women. He knows it's bad and that it interferes with how he writes and plays women. But do you know what would help with this? Neji looking inward. Looking himself in the mirror. Actually figuring out what's going on in him that makes him this way. But no! That's scary! So he ignores it.

Neji doesn't dislike women, but you know the one person he does dislike? Himself. He wants to engage with himself even less than he does with girls.

Neji and Value

This is the part I intentionally skipped in the part of my analysis about Objectification and Value, because it's a major spoiler to Neji's character. And that's the reason for him claiming this:

But people are given value just like objects sometimes. Especially in this world…People who aren’t seen to have value are in fact the ones that are ended up treated like objects. That’s why I think giving people a high value and making others desire Tachibana is quite an honorable thing.

And yeah, if you haven't guessed, part of the reason why he believes this is because of how he views himself! Neji believes the only valuable thing about himself is his talent. He thinks to be valued is good because he doesn't know how else to be loved other than for his talent. And if he loses his talent he'll lose his value, and then he'll be treated like an object to be thrown away. It's one of the reasons he's so afraid of losing said talent.

This bleeds into how he shows care for his friends. It's why he writes a story where Kanna sets up the competition to be her best friend's dance partner, because yeah its objectifying but isn't it also romantic to be fought over? And that's also part of why Neji set up the competition for Kisa's place in school. Because yeah it's objectifying but also isn't it giving his talented junior a high reputation? Isn't it good to be desired? Don't you want to be valued, even if it comes with being objectified and put on a pedestal?

If he spoke to girls seriously before this he might have understood why this could be problematic to some...

It's Neji Disliking Himself and Not Engaging with Woman Combined That Leads to...

Employee A and Domina before Mikki chewed him out. In the most "mature" stories, one about a company in the big city with grown-up problems, the other about a city shrouded in sin with adult themes, these two stand out as cartoony. Like, more cartoony than his roles in newcomers' and fall with less feminine characteristics.

For Employee A I ask you to look at this image of Employee A & B side by side. Both have goofy outfits, glasses and hairstyles, but do you notice something about Employee A that B doesn't have?

...

Look again and be real with yourself.

...

The bobs. It's the bobs! A's body is used as a joke in a way B's clearly isn't. There is an unequal amount of silly between these two. The joke is a woman's body in a way the man's isn't.

And if Neji didn't redevelop Domina into a more complex character her body would've been part of the joke too! It's thanks to Mitsuki, who for the first time accepted his role wholeheartedly instead of only focusing on the singing, being up to chewing Neji out for not putting the same amount of effort in his role. Domina still has her rocking bod, but thanks to Neji finally taken a glimpse inwards and realizing a new perspective from a girl for once (disguised as a boy who he doesn't know is a girl but shhhhh) Domina became a real star in her own right beyond the silly. You only have to watch the Intense Confession at the Confessional music video to see why Neji got silver that season. She went from a cartoonish shallow villain to being another character I'm going to scream and cry and vom over when I get to the winter analysis.

And no I don't think The Fortune Teller being a Jeanne disproves this fact, because it didn't matter whether The Fortune Teller was a Jack or Jeanne. What mattered was their sick crystal mask that could change color. Femininity wasn't even in the equation, it was all in the crystals and apricots! Plus as it was newcomers' Neji's focus was giving the freshman the spotlight, which probably made him tone himself down slightly.

It did surprise me that the Fortune Teller was a Jeanne though. Quickly had to correct my newcomers' post for that one.

And before you say it we'll get to Takihime in sec!!!!

To Be Fair It's Not Just Neji

There's other factors to the issues with female characters here. One kind of copout answer is, you know,

S o c i e t y .

Without engaging with girls seriously and directly he's left with the boys around him, research, literature and plays to give him the secondhand material needed to write Jeannes. Can you tell me a famous scriptwriter or author that didn't have a complicated relationship with women? Because I can't think of any. There's so many ways women's bodies have been used comedically that men's bodies just...haven't. And the ways they are is probably going to be deemed inappropriate by high school standards the hypocrites. And for these writers the audience or reader is often assumed to be men too. And this is set in a school for boys only, regardless of the fact that some of them play female roles. It's a wonder this place is so progressive, in part because of its unique structure. You would not have a Jeanne acting like Employee A in Rhodolite that's for sure.

The other factor is the other Jeannes in his plays. Because Neji's not the only one with Issues that effect their roles in Weekend Lesson.

There's Souchan as Kanna. In the script Kanna was still a troublemaker who spoke without thinking and dragged her friend into being competed over, but she was also fun! If Neji had the capability to both take his roles seriously and specifically take his female roles seriously I'm certain he would have been better as Kanna. But I think he gave Souchan the role in order to help his career. Which as stated in my analysis...didn't work!

Sou is clearly uncomfortable. He can't move right. And part of the reason is his lack of confidence, which translates directly to the discomfort he feels in a way that's visible to the audience. It was the same with Kisa. She became so uncomfortable in her own skin because she wasn't confident as a Jack, and kept comparing her body to her taller classmates. Sou was going through the same thing! Not just with Fumi, but with Kisa too, because he knows she's a girl! He'll never have a body like Kisa, and he'll never have a body like Suzu either, nor the talent like Fumi...he was really struggling on all sides here!

There's also...another reason, but I'm already spoiling Neji and Fumi's route in this one so let's set that reason aside for now shhhhh....

And unlike Kisa who overcame her uncertainty, Sou wasn't able to. And unlike Neji he doesn't have the obvious talent nor the eccentricity to hide behind. Because of this Kanna as a character suffered, becoming a shallower version of what she could have been. So when Sou discovers a newfound will to continue his dream in fall and practiced as Kanna afterwards, he was finally able to give her role justice.

Then there's Mitsuki. While he doesn't have the same self-loathing issues to impede his acting like Sou and Neji do, he doesn't need those issues to not do his best. Because at this moment he just doesn't care about his role as a Jeanne or even as an actor beyond his singing. The slow increase in his involvement with the class hasn't yet translated to how he engages with theater. Which is to only do the minimum of what's required of him so he can focus on singing.

In fact he was more passionate as the Cook in newcomers' than he was as Shiroma! But that was because of Kisa who willingly sought out his help and put it into motion, just like the Maiden showed gratitude to the Cook, connecting something that kinda sorta maybe made him feel something. In Weekend Lesson though most of his scenes...he doesn't even say the few lines Shiroma actually has! She was completely silent during the scene when the competition was set. Most of the time during the play she's just standing around...like a decoration. It's sad, especially after reading the script and seeing the few scenes that would've humanized her character being skipped completely.

Of course this is flipped on its head in winter. While Neji accepted Mikki's lack of enthusiasm in summer, he forced him into the spotlight in winter. Because of this the minimum effort Mitsuki was comfortable with before won't cut it, and he actually had to do some soul-searching. Skipping to the end though he did it! And part of the reason he succeeded is that he accepted Rukiora as his own role, rather than one he's only playing temporarily so he can focus on singing. He put his whole heart on the stage for the first time, something Neji never could, not even all the way in winter. He put part of his heart there, but I don't thing Neji went all the way until his own route, where when he lost his talent all that's really left is his heart.

Then There's Fumi

With three of the four Jeannes during Weekend Lessons not at their best, the only one left to take the mantle is Fumi. It good then that Fumi is the best Al Jeanne in the entire school, even stronger than Tsukasa in Rhodolite, and has the talent to stand toe-to-toe with even Chui.

You only have to look at Ando to see the sheer confidence, elegance and beauty Fumi carries with him both on stage and off. And this is a somewhat gentle role, before he really goes all out as Mary Jane. Because unlike basically all the other cast, Fumi has always been comfortable in his own skin. He knows who he is and where he stands. In fact it's not just self-assuredness, it's an unwavering determination. His body is the weapon he's sharpened since childhood, towards goals he set for himself. He has to be confident.

Plus in stark contrast to Neji, Fumi doesn't hide from himself. He knows what he wants and what he's going to do. He might act fine when he's not for the sake of others, but he doesn't lie to himself. And this transfers into his acting, putting his all and then some into every role he does. During winter he's the only one who didn't need a push from Mitsuki or direction from Neji, because he was already aware of what he was missing and actively searched for it.

Fumi's like, really cool. It's unfair how cool he is. Every time I think about him I think it's unfair how cool he is.

And this also goes for his events in his route. When he realized he liked Kisa he immediately accepted it. There was zero hesitation there. He was like "Wait I like you? Yeah...Yeah! I like you!" Zero struggle or doubt, no trying to sugarcoat it. He realized he liked Kisa and didn't fight it, and was even happy to realize it. Imagine that! Being happy to discover things about yourself.

Compare that to Neji who because of only liking himself in terms of his talent can't fully understand his feelings toward Kisa during the 4th event. Like he knows he feels something, but can't put it into the necessary words. Oh he knows! It must be love...of her talent! That's right, her talent! So he kind of love bombs her...talent to try to show his feelings. After all Kisa should value herself her talent just as he values himself? his talent! Just...completely misses the mark there because of his own lack of self-worth and inability to be honest with himself.

Not to say Fumi doesn't have Issues. He does, and is aware of them. In fact one of them relates to what Neji said about being valued. During that scene it should be noted that he never corrected Neji...he only said he should be more considerate of Soshi and Kisa's feelings. He has his own complicated relationship with being valued...but this is already too long and I haven't even gotten to Takihime!

Okay Let's Talk Takihime

Takihime was Neji's best role before this year. "But you just said he has Issues with Jeannes!" Yeah, I did, and I think Takihime is also an example of that!

Now I'm going to say firstly I loooooooove Takihime. I do support women's wrongs, especially in the version we see that matched Neji's vision the most in the game. But before we get to why Takihime succeeded while his other Jeanne haven't until Domina, let's talk about how she relate to his Issues

Takihime is a vicious, venomous woman who leaves a mountain of corpses in her wake for the sake of her goals. She used the love of a man for the sake of those goals and in the end it kills them both.

Sound...sound a little familiar?

Like the idea of a terrifying alluring woman who "temps" a man into an affair and "steals" his talent and leaves him nothing that a certain someone imagined?

The idea that a woman could cause such destruction to a country? Or a family? Isn't there a line in Sissia in Neji's route that directly compares country to family?

...

...And also the bobs if you've seen the oneshots? Yeah he has a pattern when it comes to the bobs.

So how did Takihime work? Well there's what I stated earlier: She was created for his cute junior Chui. Made especially to make him shine. So despite placing his Issues into her, he had to take the role seriously for Chui's sake. And in the process he unintentional gave part of himself into the role. It's not a coincidence that Takihime's goal is vengeance for her father.

But then it goes back to his other Issues. He was able to handle Takihime seriously...but not for long. Because the thing that made his Takihime good was also the thing he fears: parts of his heart leaking out that he was not ready to face yet. Not to mention what Chui desired out of Takihime was a vessel, someone dedicated completely to theater and himself alone. Someone who would put their entire heart on the stage. And Neji just wasn't able to do that, refused to do that. He could neither pour his open heart onto the stage nor earnestly place his heart in another's hands. So he left Takihime behind.

And the ironic thing is the Takihime that matched his vision, that was able to complete what he couldn't, was not a vessel. He poured his heart on the stage in a way Neji couldn't yes, but also he didn't do it for Chui. He did it for himself. He became a flower. He gave his role autonomy in his selfishness, gave Takihime autonomy. Takihime didn't do what she did for the Gashadoro, nor her father. She did it for herself.

I'm just so proud of this horrible brat I'm not biased I SWEAR-

So Yeah...

I think I've stated what I wanted to say. Did it make any sense? No idea, I'm still in The Pain and this is incomplete because I haven't replayed Neji's route recently enough. But as it stands this is how I feel. Neji has Issues and I think there's good reason to believe that. If you disagree tell me why! Give me the screenshots, the essays! In fact the essays are not optional, hand them over!

Of course, at the end, some of these Issues are resolved. There's Sissia. Takihime was a woman who's hatred destroyed an old country. In his route Sissia was a woman who's love created a new country. There was death, sure, and it won't be the same. The old world shattered, and new things are scary. But still. It'll be exciting.

...

Okay now here's a bad joke I can't get out of my head since I started writing this.

Me: Hey I think Neji should engage with girls seriously. Neji: Okay! Neji: *Gets engaged to a girl* Me: NOT WHAT I MEANT!

#neji kokuto #neji #jack jeanne meta #ramblings #i forgot my tagging system help #neji route #replies #meta

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crazy-form · 2 years ago

Note

even tho im still on hiatus for another week, we have gathered here today to bully skye out of retirement!!! 😡😡😡

another week huh...... sadjfhjsdfhjadsf

petition for lua to come back as well now 😤😤😤😤

#🍑 mail #kuqisaki #lua <3 #help i forgot my whole tag system safdshlfksjdfh #i think this is what i used to tag with????#i need to stop these random hiatuses #sdajfdskfjhsdfh

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pizzapottah · 7 months ago

Text

legitimacy

summary: “Vaemond Velaryon’s petition holds no sense,” it is said that the Wandering Princess reiterated once she heard of her uncle’s accusations. “My late father always recognised my brothers as his trueborn sons. Whether they look like him or the Baratheon and Arryn side of the family does not matter: they are legitimate.”

pairings: cregan stark x velaryon!reader (no use of y/n), platonic (familial) relationship between the targs/velaryon and reader

word count: 4.5k

warnings: mentions of killing off someone🥰, reader is pro-blackwood, reader has some kind of anger issues, oscar is my babygirl and my babygirl only, language as always

author's note: an update of the heir and the wolf? in this economy? also pls don't comment about tagging, click here and join the taglist so that it's easier for me to tag everyone

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You’re sure you are going to kill every man and woman in the Riverlands till only their fantastic wine — without which you wouldn’t have made it this far — and vineyards remain, so that you can drink in peace without dealing with… the consequences.

Lord Bracken has been sprouting nothing but insults and curses towards the Blackwood family for what feels like the last three hours. He surely hasn’t talked without being interjected, as Alysanne Blackwood has been responding to all his insults with doubled hate.

You stare over at Oscar, sitting beside you, with an unamused expression. “Once we get out of here, I’ll make sure to break your legs in half as punishment for having me subjected to this torture,” you hiss, hand clenching around your goblet. He shrugs. “Didn’t you say to ask you if I ever needed anything? I needed help just this once, or else I would’ve cut my ears two hours ago.”

Of course Lord Tully had to fall ill when there were matters to resolve, leaving his eldest grandson in charge. You wish Kermit was born first, so that you wouldn't have to sit here and hear all of these people complain.

You huff. “Better your ears than my sanity.”

The thing that worries you the most is the fact that they seem to have no intention of stopping yet — and they’ve been going on for ages, accusing each other of heinous crimes committed by their ancestors or something. You’re not quite sure about that, as you’ve stopped listening to their rants about ten minutes in.

You glance at the servant standing by the door of the council chamber, who’s about to turn the hourglass for the fifth time now. When he does, it’ll officially be two hours and a half into them talking about their centuries-long feud. You have to do something, or else you’ll go mad.

You cough loudly, and the two sides of the discussion shut up, looking at you. The table is rectangular and long, wide enough so that nobody can smack the person in front of them with ease. You sit at the end of it, a map of the Riverlands in front of you, Oscar sat to your right. “So,” you start, “have you all got it out of your systems? Can we start now?”

Both sides look at you puzzled, and for a moment you fear they might go back to screaming, but they don’t. “Lord Samwell, Lord Amos, could you both raise your hands for me? I forgot your faces when you started screaming because I thought I was back in Dragonstone with my younger brothers having a tantrum about a toy — they are six and three, by the way.”

Red-faced, both lords raise their hands; Lord Amos is a bit older than Lord Samwell, his face sickly and hair grey, a high contrast to the Blackwood's dark brown hair and plump face. “Good. Now I would like you two to choose a spokesperson that will talk in your places.”

Lord Samwell raises an eyebrow, “Pardon me?” he says, as Lord Amos raises from his seat. “This is an outrage! Why should we choose someone else to talk in our place? We can definitely settle this matter once for all alone!”

You raise an eyebrow at his antics, motioning over a guard to make him stand back down. “Well, if you could settle this matter alone I wouldn’t be there, would I?” you ask him with a short laugh. “Besides– don’t you still have the scar Lord Samwell kindly gifted you back in the days where my mother was looking for a husband? I don’t want the two of you to settle your matters alone if it means someone being stabbed again.”

“We would be perfectly capable of doing it now–”

“Choose a spokesperson or don’t speak, Lord Amos, as you have already talked enough for my likings. The choice is all yours.”

The guard now stands behind him, hand on the pommel of his sword, and the lord begrudgingly sits back down. “I shall name my uncle, Ser Lothar,” Ser Lothar is an old man with white hair and no beard, who looks like he’s seen the rise and fall of all the Gods in the world and death herself.

You don’t say anything, even if you’d like someone who doesn’t look like he’s a night away from dying. “Lord Samwell?”

“My sister, Lady Alysanne,” is his resolute response. Ah, the lady who was screaming at Lord Amos earlier. She's young and thin — no doubt close to your age — with black hair to match a raven's feathers.

“Rubbish!” is Ser Lothar's not-so-smart response. You notice now that he’s missing three teeth and speaks horrendously — as if their accent already isn’t helping. “How old is she? Seven and ten? She should be in the birthing bed, not in this council chamber!”

Everyone stares at him, bewildered — even his own kind. Maybe if you weren’t there, the comment would’ve been overlooked, but seeing as the council was being literally held by a six and ten year old girl, it wasn’t the smartest comment he could’ve made. You can feel from your seat the murderous intent that comes from the Blackwoods — thankfully you made everyone leave their weaponry outside. You just hope nobody has a hidden knife somewhere in their breeches.

“For your information, Ser Lothar,” you speak up before things can escalate, “I am six and ten and perfectly able to run a council on my own. I’m sure Lady Alysanne will manage just fine.”

He squints his eyes at you, like he’s just noticed your presence. “I will be listening to no cunt!”

You blink at Lord Amos, who’s red in the face, as calm as ever. “Would you like to change your mind, Lord Bracken? I’m afraid Ser Lothar will be too preoccupied with being my dragon’s breakfast to be here with us as we discuss this serious matter.”

Lothar screams obscenities as the guards take him away to the courtyard, where Nādrēsy is staying for the time being, and Lord Samwell has a smug look on his face — no wonder happy that his sister has had justice. “Lyle!” Lord Amos roars, making a boy no older than twenty jump from his seat. “Y– yes, my lord!”

You intertwine your fingers in front of you. “Good. Now that the table has been cleaned we can actually start.” you ask them to take the seat of their lords, so that they’re near you and you three can talk more clearly. “I want to make sure that it is clear that I don’t expect your houses to be friends after this council. My only purpose is to end the brotherly blood shedding that in the last centuries has exasperated the Riverlands to the point that Ser Oscar Tully here had to ask for the Crown’s help to put an end to it. I just want your houses to stand each other.”

You sigh, pointing to the map with their territories traced out in front of you; you push it towards them so that they have some reference. “This was the outline of the territories that King Jaheaerys’s ambassador drew the last time there was a council like this. Peace lasted only for about two years — my goal is to make it last at least twenty, so that when the Lords die their heirs are of age.” you darkly jest. Lord Samwell sends a glare to Lord Amos: he was six when his father was killed in a Bracken ambush.

“Obviously, it is not. My goal is to make it last. So, I would like you two to outline the territories that are most important to your houses that as of now are owned by the other. Then we’ll see what we can do about it — see if we can make it a fair exchange to avoid spilling more blood.”

The two nod and immediately get to work. You are surprised to see that they do not speak to each other — not even a little nag or tease. They seem to be more mature than their elders, a thing that strangely you do not find weird at all.

You didn’t expect for it to be an easy negotiation, but Seven Hells if you had underestimated it. They would be competing for the entire Riverlands if there weren’t any other houses, you’re sure about that. And before you know it, it’s been a sennight and you’re still staying in Riverrun, hoping that some god takes pity on you and strikes you down. Sure, you had them choose their spokesperson, but that doesn’t mean the others don’t protest when you say something they don’t like.

“I’m thinking about arranging a marriage,” you say to Oscar one evening.

You’re in the guest chambers, the ones you’re staying in. The chess match in front of you is basically forgotten, replaced by a discussion about peace treaties and ways to stop feuds. Your friend snorts, taking another sip of his wine. “My ancestors have tried before. It always ends up in a massacre before the bride can even receive the groom's cloak.”

You shake your head. “I’m thinking about Olyver Bracken and Alysanne Blackwood.”

He raises an eyebrow, skeptical. “A drunkard and a hunter? Weird choice. Don’t know if I feel like ruining a lady’s promising future.”

“Think about it.” you lean over, elbows on your knees. You take two pawns, placing them on the table. “He is Lord Amos’ heir, and he is useless. Meanwhile, she would be able to run Stone Hedge like it was the fucking Night Watch. We could make them marry, then maybe right after she already gave birth to a boy, an heir… a terrible accident could happen.” you knock down one of the pawns, “A tragic fall from the horse, a bad fever… you name it. And suddenly Lady Bracken is free from her preposterous husband and can raise his heir however she wants.”

You take two other pawns and place them near the others. “Then we marry small Benjicot Blackwood off to Cressida Bracken. They are still young, younger than Olyver and Alysanne; if Cressida is sent to live with the Blackwoods as soon as the engagement is announced, she may not feel the same hate towards him as any other Bracken would.”

You sigh, rubbing your hands together. “Give it twenty years, and the heirs to the Blackwood and the Bracken territories will all be cousins. What kind of cousins would ever start a war against each other?”

Oscar blinks at you. You blink back. “I mean what kind of cousins that aren’t in my family, Oscar.”

“Oooh. Oh, yes, that makes sense now.” he tilts his head to the side, looking at the pawns. “You plan on killing the Bracken guy?”

You shrug. “Only if Alysanne finds him annoying. I would never force the poor girl to stand him, knowing I wouldn’t even be able to wait to have an heir before I got tired of him, so if she manages to do it, I will gift her a new set of arrows and a bow. Closing an eye on his mysterious disappearance would be the least I could do, if the rumours about him are true.”

Hearsays say that he’s insufferable and that he spends more time in brothels than in his own bed, but ultimately he’s pretty defenseless and has gotten his ass beaten in pubs more times than his father is able to count. Oscar snorts, “Let’s see if there’s no carnage during the wedding, then we can actually talk about it.”

The next day comes, and you dread the moment you’ll be sat at that fucking council table again, and will have to announce not only one but two betrothals. It’s for the best, at least, or that’s what you tell yourself when Alysanne Blackwood looks at you like you just sentenced her to death. The whole table protests against your decision, but you’re unremovable, and you’re telling them beforehand just because you feel nice today. Your mother would’ve probably arranged the marriage without telling anyone anything until the day of the wedding.

“You can’t just do that!” Samwell laments, red from anger. It seems he doesn’t like the thought of his sister being married off — quite thankfully, honestly. You’re happy that you’re not the only sister who has brothers who care about her.

“The thing is, Lord Blackwood,” you reply, “that I can and I will. As ambassador to the King my word is his, and I’m sure he would agree with me in this decision. You lot have killed enough men, women and children in this feud of yours; the whole RIverlands are tired, as honestly am I, of hearing of your endless feud and your constant blood spilling. I say we put an end to it.”

They don’t seem to care; they yell at you, then at each other, spitting venom and curses, talking over each other so loudly that you don’t understand anything. You clench your hands, rage rising inside you; you wish you could just make Nādrēsy burn their beloved castles down to the ground and call it a day, so that there aren’t any more territories to fight about, but unfortunately it isn't exactly diplomatic. Is this how your grandsire feels when he holds court?

You stare at the map in front of you; the distribution of the lands has changed, even if the number of acres both families own has basically remained the same. You have either split the territories in question or gave one to the Brackens and another to the Blackwoods, trying to be as fair and equal as you could be — but of course none of them would be happy; they both wanted the other’s whole territory.

You feel like you’re looking after all your little brothers who can’t agree for the life of them. Aegon will say that a toy is his and Viserys will reply that it’s actually his, even though they both have no idea where that toy came from in the first place nor that it was actually yours a decade ago.

“Children!” you shout over the voices of the lords, shutting them up real quick. “You are behaving like children — except you are grown men! And I am disgusted by you all! Your families have been in these lands for centuries, and not only have you never managed to overthrow one another, but you also have to make it everyone’s problem! Aren’t you ashamed? Don’t you have just a bit of remorse for all the suffering your hatred is causing? How many men, women and children have to die before you–”

The door bursts open, a servant barging in, “Princess–!”

“What?” you yell, enraged, turning to look at him. He cowers, trying to make himself as small as he can, knees trembling under your furious gaze. “I… I–”

“Talk before I cut your tongue out and let her talk for you,” you spit. You would never do that, of course, it’s just that you have found in the last few years that a threat here and a threat there get the job done far more quicker and easier.

The servant gulps. “A raven from King’s Landing,” he squeaks, “It’s from Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen.” He hands you the letter and opts to run as fast as he can, away from you, shutting the doors of the chamber behind him.

You look at the letter, confused, only to rip it open and read it. The men at the table watch you intently, hoping that it’s some kind of good news so that your mood lightens up — maybe the princess is pregnant again? Maybe Prince Joffrey has managed to mount his dragon for the first time?

All their hopes are crushed when they see you get redder and redder in the face from anger as you read; if your dragon happened to be in the same room, they are sure that the paper would be burned down to ashes. Oscar leans to your side, peeking at the letter and reading what he can, frowning once he understands what your mother has written. “Wha–”

“A petition!” you roar, outraged. “And they didn’t cut his tongue when he started talking about it!”

“Madness,” Oscar sighs, “pure madness.”

You tear the paper into pieces, making the lords flinch. “The council is dismissed,” you declare. “The terms of the negotiations remain the same; Lord Tully will make sure that you all agree and the deal will be sealed tomorrow. Or else,” you lean down, placing your hands on the table, “I’ll come back once my matters are settled in King’s Landing and make sure that you all agree, in one way or another.” The threat is subtle, but they all understand that if they refuse to bend to the treaty, you’ll visit them in their beloved lands — with your very hungry dragon, surely.

As the lords start to leave the room, you look over at Oscar, “You’re coming to King’s Landing with me.”

He blinks, “I am?”

You snort, unamused. “You are. Vaemond Velaryon’s petition holds no sense, as my late father always recognised my brothers as his trueborn sons. Whether they look like him or the Baratheon and Arryn side of the family does not matter: they are legitimate. I’ll need you to keep me sane during the whole ordeal, Oscar. My ears did not bleed without a price during the last sennight.”

“But I’ve had no time to prepare– gods, let me fetch the servants, they need to start preparing my bags–”

“Tell them to bring your finest dresses and gowns,” you grunt, “wouldn’t want you to make a bad impression to the whole court, my dear Lady Oscar. Where else will you go to search for a husband otherwise?”

You shake your head right after, not in the mood to jest, “Be fucking serious, Oscar; bring a change or two and let it be done. We’re not going to King’s Landing to have fun, it’s a trial.” your expression is dark, stare truce. “And a death sentence, if we’re lucky.”

Your mother will never make it out of the trial unscathed is the green wench sits or her father sit on the throne; she needs you. She made that very clear in the letter, and you have no intention in turning your back on her.

Oscar departs immediately, calling for the servants and his brother Kermit, and you follow right after, not surprised to find Lady Alysanne Blackwood out of the room, waiting for you. Even if she was half as smart and hard headed as you thought her to be, she’d probably still be waiting out the council room to talk to you about the half-wit she would marry per your orders. Poor girl.

“If you wish to talk, we can do so as we head to my rooms,” you say before she can open her mouth, “I have matters in the King's Landing to tend to, and I can’t afford to waste time.”

She grimaces, “Didn’t you come here to attend this council? Weren’t you here to help our families?”

“First of all, I was ambushed by Ser Oscar,” you clarify, “Second, yes, I was. And I did.”

She looks downright haunted. “You are a woman,” she murmurs. “You are a woman and you have sold me as no man had ever dared to do before.”

“You were bound to be sold off, Lady Alysanne,” you reply, tone calm. You can imagine her rage right now, but she must know that with her place in her family, she could have never possibly found the freedom she surely wants. You understand that by not living in the Crownlands, she had more hope for her future, with the freedom she was clearly given growing up; but you have grown in the Crownlands, and you have seen younger girls being married off to worser men without being able to escape. “I just did the honors.”

“I will slash my neck open before that brute can even think of touching me,” she boldly says.

It makes you stop to take a better look at her. She’s tall, taller than you, and a tad bit older. It’s kind of sad to see her with tears in her eyes. “I know what an unhappy marriage is,” you inform her. “In the Keep we’re full of them. My own mother was in one with my father.”

You lower your voice, leaning your head, “But you have me on your side. And I wouldn’t be against… a little violence.” at her confusion, you explain yourself. “I wouldn’t refuse to turn a blind eye to a hunting accident, let’s say.” At her joyous face, you relent, “Not on the night of the wedding, Alysanne! At least we need one heir, or the feud will never end. Lord Bracken is old and sick, and it’ll be a year or two before he dies, hopefully — I'll see if I can help the process go faster. Then his son might accidentally die, too, oh, he was so young, leaving his pain struck wife and son behind,”

She snorts, “A tragedy, wouldn’t it be?”

You laugh grimly. “Ohh, you get it.”

“What’s this smell?” Oscar yells over your shoulder, trying to make himself heard over the sound of the wind and the flapping wings of your dragon.

“That’s the capital for you!” you reply, already missing the fresh air of the RIverlands. “The weather doesn’t help Flea Bottom’s odour. It’s been like this since forever.”

He gags, “Don’t understand how you manage. Smells like piss.”

You shrug, “You get used to it. Trust me, there’s lords in court who smell far worse than Flea Bottom does,”

Nādrēsy roars unhappily: a full day of travel and it’s only to get back into the dirty streets of King’s Landing. You lightly slap his side, yelling over his laments, “Ilagon, valītsos!” Down, boy!

Oscar, behind you, shakes like a leaf as your dragon replies by roaring with vigor — no doubt, that equals to at least ten curses in dragon’s language. “How can you talk to him like that? He’s going to eat you alive one of these days and you won’t be able to do anything about it.”

You snort. “I’d like to see him try.”

The Dragon Pit is more animated than usual: some Keepers are holding back Vermax, who screeches and spits fire, while others bring Syrax back in her cave, her belly swollen, her step slow and cautious. Caraxes follows right behind, shaking his wings to throw the dirt off of them.

The Keepers greet you and your dragon, sending a weird glance towards Oscar. One of them — Kilya is her name, you believe — comes near, shouting so that you can hear her. “Īlin umbagon syt ao, dārilaros.” she says, “Aōha muña gīmēdegon īlva hen aōha māzigon.” We were waiting for you, Princess. Your mother warned us of your arrival.

You nod; you had no time to reply to her raven, but she must’ve guessed that there was no way you wouldn’t have come. “Se eman māstan.” And I have arrived, “Gūrogon Nādrēsy naejot zȳhon ripo, eman gaomon naejot imāzigon.” Bring Nādrēsy to his cave, I have matters to attend.

You help Oscar get off; he yelps as the chains around his ankles are unfastened and yells as you help him down, where the Keepers promptly catch him before he falls on his backside. You jump off your dragon’s back, landing perfectly fine, and opt to pat roughly Nādrēsy’s back, just as he likes it. “Sȳz sōvegon, valītsos.” Good fly, boy. He roars back happily.

“I’ll never understand that language,” Oscar mutters, standing back up straight, a frown upon his face. “It’s like you don’t want your secrets to be known. Why won’t you teach me High Valyrian?”

“Iksis ziry doru-borto?” the Keeper asks. Is he stupid? You shake your head, then think about it and snort, relenting. “Mērī mirrī.” Only a little.

Your friend pouts, sticking out his tongue at you. “Is that what I get for being your bestest companion?”

You laugh, walking off the Pit and to the entrance, where a carriage is promptly and not surprisingly waiting for you. “My bestest companion? Didn’t know you had wings and were named Nādrēsy.”

He gasps, dramatically grasping his chest, “You wound me!”

You both get in the carriage, and you look at him seriously. “Before we enter the Red Keep, there are some rules you must abide by.”

He raises an eyebrow, “Rules? I was raised well, you know, I shouldn’t need those. I hope the King knows that.”

You shake your head, “No, those are my rules for you. Let’s say that it’s what you’ll need if you want to go back home unscathed from the Keep’s snakes.”

Oscar gulps, “Go on.”

“First, don’t talk to the Queen. Then don’t talk to her sons unless I’m in the room. Avoid Larys Strong — he’s the guy with the crippled leg and the corpse face, you’ll know it’s him instantly — and avoid the councilmen.”

“What, you want to keep me a secret?” he asks, bewildered. “Is there someone I’ll be able to talk to? Is there a reason why I have to avoid all these people?” he gasps, “Am I your whore? Is that why you want to keep my mouth shut?”

“If you were my whore, I’m pretty sure I would want your mouth wide open and working,” you mutter, “but no, that is not why. Truth is I would rather make sure that you stay out of their claws; it’s better to keep away from their schemes.”

The actual truth is that you don’t want them to speculate something about history repeating — your mother was already rumored to have a lover from the Riverlands; the last thing this family needs is another princess said to have an affair with yet another lover from the Riverlands. They would wonder if it actually was some kind of preference that was passed down from mother to daughter, and even if the only thought of being attracted to Oscar makes you laugh, you’re sure the councilmen definitely wouldn’t be amused by it.

“Besides, you can talk to Mushroom,” you add.

“Who’s Mushroom?”

“The court’s jester. He’s insufferable, small and will try to steal your gold, but you can talk to him.”

Your friend grimaces, “Why do you keep him in the castle if he steals the lords’ gold?”

You shrug, “He makes me laugh.”

Slowly, the carriage rattles to a halt, a page opening the door for you. “Ready to see the Red Keep for the first time?”

He nods, “Ready to face your evil step-grandmother?”

2K notes · View notes

wosospacegirl · 16 days ago

Text

Stuck with you - part 13

Summary: Y/n’s used to Alexia’s overprotectiveness and the pressure of her career, but Kika? The shy, socially awkward teammate who’s starting to make her feel things she didn’t expect.

Warnings: Kika and yn aren't so dumb anymore; Jana is a good friend, and Y/n is still attached to her logic napkin

Word count: 5.1K

a/n: this is a triple update! Make sure to read Part 12 first! Part 14 will come out soon. Also, I don't know why the pictures look so low quality, sorry about that.

The Spanish squad didn't stay in Spain for much longer. The next morning, they all took a flight to Portugal, heading to the next friendly of FIFA's international break. Y/n didn't get to think much about what going to Portugal meant because she slept the whole flight.

She was in the middle seat, between Vicky and Jana, and of course, the two girls couldn't help themselves. While Y/n was sleeping, they took a very unflattering picture of her.

When Y/n woke up hours later (because someone was kicking her seat), both Vicky and Jana had very sweet and angelic expressions on their faces. Y/n had seen those faces before.

Usually, right after they had done something that would make her want to strangle them. They were guilty about something.

"What?" Y/n turned to Vicky, her voice still thick with sleep.

"What what?" Vicky replied, blinking with the most innocent eyes ever.

Y/n knew that look very well.

It was the same look Vicky had when she had accidentally told the media the lineup for the final of the Copa de La reina last season. The same look when she took the last bottle of Gatorade from the cooler during the hottest day of the summer and hid it because she didn't want to share.

Then Y/n turned to Jana. "What did you guys do to me?"

Jana had her earbuds on, her head bobbing to whatever music was playing, completely ignoring the world around her. Y/n also knew this was a rather classic Jana move when she was guilty; she used music so she didn't have to interact with others.

"Oh, hello sleeping beauty," she said with a smirk when she finally noticed Y/n glaring at her.

Y/n has the confirmation she needed by the tone in Jana's voice.

She felt her stomach drop as she grabbed her phone with shaky hands and opened the camera, checking if they had drawn horns on her face again (it wouldn't be the first time).

The screen showed her reflection; her hair was messy, there were marks on her cheek from sleeping, but no horns. Actually, there was no drawing made with lipstick or pens at all.

That should have felt reassuring, but it wasn't, not when it came to Vicky and Jana. Everything made sense when Y/n saw a notification shining right in the middle of her screen.

' Janafernandez3 tagged you '

"No," Y/n whispered, looking at Jana with a look that screamed betrayal. "You did not."

"Oh, but I did," Jana grinned.

Y/n rolled her eyes as she unlocked her phone.

She wasn't surprised when she saw it: a picture of herself sleeping, her mouth was just slightly open, her hair was as messy as it was right now, if not worse. She was completely ridiculous.

"Delete it," Y/n said grumply as she shoved the phone toward Jana. "Right now."

"Nope," Jana replied. "This is my comeback for when I fell in the pile of mud in La Masia and you posted it and you tagged Barcelona's Instagram."

"I was fourteen!" Y/n said exasperatedly.

"My brother still calls me montón de barro" [heap of mud], Jana said, deadpanned.

"Jana, I'm serious–"

"If I told you Kika replied to the story calling you cute," Jana interrupted, "would you still want me to delete it? Or not"

Jana had that voice tone that told Y/n she already knew the answer to the question, and Y/n hated to be so predictable.

Suddenly, the aeroplane felt too small for all of them. It felt like Y/n's heart forgot how to beat normally whenever someone mentioned Kika's name, as if the word Kika triggered her brain's sympathetic nervous system.

Y/n felt her hands sweating against her phone, her thumb leaving a mark on the black screen.

And this was exactly why she didn't let herself think about Kika too much, because her body couldn't function the way it should if Kika was on her mind.

That's why she slept almost the whole flight to Portugal, because she didn't want to think, but now it felt like she was being forced to do it.

"What?!" Y/n managed to say after what felt like long hours of silence. "W-what do you mean?"

"You're saying 'what' a lot," Vicky chimed in. "Did you leave your entire vocabulary in Belgium?"

"I wish I had left you in Belgium," Y/n shot back, but her voice didn't have its usual bite, because all her attention focused on Jana.

"What do you mean Kika called me cute? Are you messing with me? Because that would be really, really cruel, even for you." The desperation in her own voice made her cringe.

She sounded pathetic. After Kika got into her life, it felt like everything Y/n did or felt was pathetic.

Jana's expression softened slightly. "I'm not messing with you, tonta. I'm funny and witty, not cruel."

Yeah, Jana was kind of right. Jana was Y/n's most honest friend; she was one of the only girls who didn't participate actively in that orchestrated plan to bring Y/n and Kika together.

Y/n watched (barely breathing) as Jana unlocked her phone and opened her Instagram.

Her DMs showed Kika's name at the top, and it even had that green dot in the corner of Kika's name, which meant she was online right now.

Kika was probably scrolling through Instagram normally and casually while Y/n sat in an aeroplane, miles and miles from the ground.

"Go on," Jana encouraged, handing over the phone. "Read it, but don't react to anything; this conversation was like…hours ago. If you do it, she'll think I'm re-reading the conversation."

Y/n's fingers felt a little numb as she took the phone. She stared at Jana one last time before looking down at the screen.

Kika replied to the story: She looks cute when she's sleeping, don't give her a hard time, haha.

Jana: She's tired because she almost got a red in the last game :p.

Kika: I support her rights and her wrongs.

Jana: Of course you do ;)

Kika: Don't wink face me.

Jana: Too late.

Y/n read it once. Then twice. And then a third time just to make sure her dyslexia wasn't messing with her brain, but no. The words didn't change, they were clearly there, although her brain kept insisting she was seeing things that weren't true.

Kika had called her cute. She really did, it was there, right in front of Y/n.

Okay, maybe if Kika had called her cute, maybe she wasn't dating anyone?

Maybe that girl was really just a friend?

"She called me cute," Y/n whispered, it was mostly to herself, but the girls around her heard her too.

"Yeah," Jana nodded, watching Y/n's face carefully. "Cute," Jana stated the word, as if to make sure it would sink into Y/n's brain.

"CUTE!" Vicky practically shouted from her seat, which made some players turn their heads toward them. Alexia, Irene and Leila were among the players who turned and were now watching the girls.

Y/n could see they were ready to ask what was happening, but they looked too tired to interact with the younger players–las nenas, as they called them–so they turned their attention back to what they were doing.

"Wait, why are we talking about cute things?" Vicky asked, confused.

"Kika called Y/n cute," Jana explained in a low voice to Vicky, putting her face right in front of Y/n, as if she wasn't there. "I posted that picture you took, and she replied to my story."

Vicky's face lit up instantly, a smile growing on her face. Y/n could count all of her teeth.

"OH MY GOD! This is huge! This is like... like when someone likes an old Instagram picture." Vicky began counting on her fingers. "--or when somebody gives you the last biscuit on the package, or even better–when someone lends you their shin pads because you forgot yours! It means something!"

"Does it, though? Does it really mean something?" Y/n asked, interrupting the girl. "What if she was just being nice?"

"She didn't have to reply to the picture," Jana said as if it was obvious. "She did it because she wanted to–that means something."

"Now you need to repost the picture!" Vicky declared quickly, grabbing Y/n's arms with enthusiasm. "Like…right now!"

"I... what?" Y/n blinked, suddenly feeling overwhelmed under Jana's and Vicky's gaze. "Why would I do that?"

"Because–" Jana explained, taking her phone back. "If she replied to my story, she might reply to yours, too. And then you'll have a conversation starter, you know?"

"But what if she doesn't reply?" Y/n questioned. "It would be kind of sad, wouldn't it? What would it mean if she just looked at it and moved on with her day?"

Vicky and Jana exchanged looks that seemed like they were communicating telepathically.

"If that happened, it would mean…" Vicky finally stated, "that she's nervous to talk to you directly."

Y/n's face fell. "Oh yeah, that would be bad–"

"But that's GOOD!" Vicky interrupted Y/n, throwing her hands up. "If she's nervous, it means she cares about your opinion. It means you matter to her."

Y/n tilted her head, genuinely confused. "I don't think that makes any sense."

Jana wrapped her arm around Y/n's shoulder, and for a moment, Y/n felt like a little kid being comforted after losing a Little League game.

"It doesn't make sense to you because you aren't in touch with our feelings," Jana said quietly. "But some of us actually know how crushes work."

Y/n rolled her eyes. "Don't say crush, it makes me sound like a teenager."

"You do have a teen at the end of your age," Vicky said as if just stating a fact. "nine-teen."

"And you just left La Masia two seasons ago," Y/n shot back, but it didn't have any mean tone to it. "You are more of a kid than I am."

"Well," Vicky lifted her eyebrows. "I'm a kid who has more emotional intelligence in her pinky finger than you have in your entire body."

Y/n was ready to talk back, but Vicky was faster.

"Just...trust us, yeah?" She placed her hand on top of Y/n's palm "Just this once."

Y/n looked between her two friends–really looked at them. It felt weird taking advice from people her age. Normally, Y/n would just do whatever she thought was right, or go to Aleixa or Olga, who looked older, wiser.

But right now her friend looked optimistic, the kind of optimism that was only truly evident in young people who still believed wholeheartedly that everything was going to be okay at the end.

Y/n never felt like that. But right now she wanted to. So she trusted her friends.

"Ugh," Y/n groaned as she covered her face with her hands. "Fine…okay. I'll repost that stupid picture."

Jana lifted her arms in victory. "Yes! See? I told you–emotionally intelligent!"

The pilot's voice went through the intercom and interrupted Jana's commemoration.

"We will be beginning our descent into Lisbon in about fifteen minutes, please turn off all electronic devices."

"Do it now!" Vicky urged as she pointed at Y/n's phone. "Before we land and you lose your mind completely."

"Okay, okay," Y/n muttered, taking her phone back. She opened Instagram and found Jana's story, then she clicked on to repost it to her own story.

Then she stared at the screen, her finger kept hovering over the 'share' button.

"I can't," she said, looking at her friends with genuine panic. "I'm scared."

"Do it scared," Vicky replied. "Come on…sometimes the best things happen when we're terrified. Go on."

Y/n took a deep breath, then she hit 'share' and immediately threw the phone at Vicky, like she couldn't even look at it.

"There! It's done! I don't want to see it, I don't want to know if anyone replies, I just want to pretend this never happened!"

Y/n took her own headphones and put them on her head.

They didn't have any music on it, it wasn't even connected to anything, she just wanted to pretend she wasn't on a plane, she wanted to pretend she wasn't expecting some sort of interaction between her and Kika.

Vicky caught the phone and tucked it into her pocket.

Jana was smiling. "Too late for that, amiga. Now we just need to wait and see what happens."

As the plane began its descent toward Lisbon's airport, Y/n tried not to think about the fact that somewhere below them, Kika might be looking at that ridiculous picture of her sleeping.

That she might be thinking about replying, or worse, that she might have just looked at it and ignored it completely.

Y/n was going to delete her Instagram as soon as she landed.

She was also probably going to throw up, too.

Y/n, Salma, Jana and Vicky were lying on the beds in the hotel room, two on each mattress. They had just arrived at the hotel, and just like in Belgium, they had thirty minutes to spare before their next training session.

They were waiting for the van to pick the team up and drive them to the training centre. Y/n didn't know where the training centre in Lisbon was; she wondered if it was the same one the Portuguese national team used.

It was common for different teams to share the same training grounds; they just booked different times. Most of the time, one squad would take the morning shift and the other would take the afternoon. If that were the case, the Spanish girls would be training in the afternoon.

Y/n was looking at the ceiling, the white, boring ceiling.

"They could have painted it off-white," Salma murmured next to her. "It's just...white."

"What about a cream colour?" Vicky commented. "That would be nice."

"I like white," Jana said. "It's easier to picture stuff when you're looking at something white."

Y/n turned to her. "Why would you want to picture something when you're looking at a wall?"

"Sometimes when you're bored," Jana said, "it's the only thing you can do."

"I guess you're right," Y/n agreed in the end.

The girls continued to look at the white ceiling. They looked… spiritless, maybe that's what a 6-hour flight did to you.

Y/n wasn't bored because she felt like her mind was going a million miles an hour.

Kika had replied to her story.

But Y/n didn't dare to open it and read it. She didn't know why.

If Kika had bothered to comment on something, it was probably something nice, she wouldn't reply to Y/n's stories to call her...ugly or something bad, right?

Y/n let out a loud breath. Then she looked at her watch. They had twenty minutes until the van came.

Maybe she could look at what Kika had replied, or else she would spend the whole training wondering.

"I'm going to wait in the lobby," Y/n said, getting up from the bed. She wanted to be alone while she read the message; she didn't want the vulture eyes of her friends.

Her teammates were so disinterested in–Y/n wasn't sure–life, that they barely acknowledged her. They just shared a small "alright" as Y/n walked through the door.

When Y/n got to the lobby, she sat on one of the sofas near the entrance. And then, with all the courage she had left, she opened her Instagram and clicked on the DMs. And there was Kika's message.

Kika replied to the story: I can't see that Jana's still a danger to people who are sleeping.

Y/n read it once, then twice. She did the exact same thing as when she read the conversation between Kika and Jana.

Kika sounded...casual, normal. She didn't mention the kiss or the charade. Y/n wasn't sure if she was expecting her to, well, Y/n wasn't expecting anything really.

Y/n: Were you one of her victims?

Kika: Yeah.

Y/n: I'm sorry.

Kika: It's okay, I deserved it. I posted a picture of her after one of those ball dominance training sessions.

Y/n knew what those training sessions were. It was very close-contact training. It was all about taking the ball from the opponent. The girls at Barcelona were very heated when it came to that.

One day, Aitana was so caught up that she dislocated Y/n's shoulder. It hurt like hell.

Y/n watched as dots appeared on the screen, and then they disappeared, as if Kika was typing and deleting.

After a minute and 32 seconds (not that Y/n was counting), Kika replied.

Kika: Can we talk tomorrow? After the game?

Y/n felt like, for the fifth time that week, her stomach had dropped into her lower abdomen. Kika wanted to talk to her. Y/n wasn't sure if she could manage a conversation without sounding like she had a brain aneurysm.

Kika: It's okay if you don't, I don't know what Spain's schedule is for after the game.

Y/n really needed to talk with Kika, so she replied:

Y/n: We can talk, no problem.

Kika: Great! I'll see you.

Y/n didn't know what to reply, so she didn't.

She watched people moving in and out of the lobby. It was a mix of families on vacation and people who looked busy, as if they were there for work.

Y/n looked down at her phone and then at the people again.

She put her hand in her pocket and took out her napkin.

Her logical napkin, the one she had kept with her since she was on the plane going to Barcelona.

The last time she wrote on the napkin, she wrote the words "cares???" Now she scratched out the interrogation points, leaving the napkin with only "cares."

Y/n was impressed by how well she did in training. She was focused, she could keep the ball at her feet, she made some nice passes and was a strong defender throughout the whole session.

Kika was still on her mind, but right now, the thought of her didn't feel like it weighed a ton.

Maybe communication really was the key.

Although her hands were trembling a little when she checked her phone for new messages during the water breaks. She felt like the air was thicker whenever she remembered she was going to see Kika for the first time in exactly 23 hours.

Back at the hotel, while she was showering and Jana was annoyingly knocking at the door asking if she was going to take long, Y/n thought about what Kika could possibly want to talk to her about.

She knew the kiss was probably going to be a topic–it had to be. It would be an uncomfortable conversation, but it had to happen.

Y/n couldn't run away from it for the rest of her life. Plus, if she wanted a relationship with Kika, or at least to try for one, then she should get used to talking about her feelings.

Y/n hated feeling vulnerable, but vulnerability was the price you paid for connection with others, so it was worth it. At least that's what she kept telling herself as the hot water fell down the back of her neck all through her body.

It was burning her, but she liked it that way.

When she got out of the shower, Jana was waiting there with her toiletries bag, a change of clothes and a towel in hand. Y/n had probably taken a long time because Jana looked at her with a scowl on her face and got into the shower without a word.

Hours later, Y/n was sitting with Jana, Alexia and Ona at the hotel's restaurant.

The table around them, filled with players and other guests. The restaurant was buzzing with light and quiet conversations. Most of her teammates looked exhausted from the heavy training session.

Y/n had a very light ankle twisted during training, nothing serious, but the ice bag on her skin was making her lose all of her appetite. She found herself just pushing the food around rather than eating it.

No one was really excited about the game tomorrow. Everybody was too tired to make conversation–everybody but Jana.

"How are you feeling about tomorrow?" Jana asked as she nudged Y/n with her elbow, which made Y/n drop her knife onto her plate with an annoying clatter.

"I'm feeling okay," Y/n shrugged her shoulders, lying to herself and to Jana.

The answer seemed to disappoint Jana, her face falling. "Just okay?"

"Yes," Y/n confirmed, taking a sip of her juice.

Y/n pretended not to feel the weight of Alexia's eyes on her. She sensed how much Alexia wanted to ask about what they were talking about.

"Everybody's a bit nervous with the game tomorrow," Alexia said as she took a bite of her funghi risotto. "But if there's something else bothering you…"

"I'm fine, really," Y/n said quickly, maybe too quickly.

One looked up from her phone. "It's supposed to be raining tomorrow…I hope the pitch doesn't get too wet."

Y/n smiled at Ona, she knew she was trying to slightly change the subject, which worked, because they all started to talk about how awful it was to play in the rain.

A few minutes later, when Y/n was done eating, she said goodbye to the girls at the table and made her way to her room, Jana following her close behind.

"You are going to talk with Kika, right?" Jana asked as both got inside the elevator.

Y/n nodded, beginning to feel slightly nervous again "She asked if I could talk after the game."

Jana was in the middle of nodding along to Y/n's answer, but then she realised. "Wait! She asked? Did you guys talk?!"

"She replied to that story," Y/n explained, bobbing her head along to the elevator music. "Asked if it was okay for us to meet after the game to talk."

"Talk about what?" Jana asked.

"I don't know," Y/n said. "The charade, the kiss, everything I think."

"You won't take the bus back to the hotel then?" Jana asked. "After the game, I mean."

Y/n hadn't thought about that when she agreed to talk to Kika.

"Hmm, I don't know if the conversation will take long...maybe just take my bag and if you see I'm taking too long, tell the girls that I decided to...explore Lisbon!"

"You know they won't believe that," Jana said flatly.

"They don't need to believe it," Y/n said.

"You know the staff doesn't like to leave players behind," Jana warned, her concern evident. "Can you even find your way back? What if something goes wrong between you two? What if she's upset about the kiss and you're stuck there feeling awful and without a lift back to the hotel?"

"You're sounding too much like me," Y/n said. "I'm the one who's supposed to be a pain in the ass, not you."

"I'm not being a pain in the ass," Jana rolled her eyes. "I'm just nervous about you being left in a stadium in a country where you don't even know the language."

"Don't worry about it," Y/n said. "The conversation probably won't last long anyway. You're worrying way too much."

Jana looked at Y/n through the corner of her eyes, but she didn't say anything until they were in their room.

"If you don't get back to the hotel", Jana said seriously. "I'm calling the Portuguese police."

"Fair," Y/n lay down on her bed. "Maybe I'll make it to the news."

Y/n stared at the ceiling. It was very white, indeed.

The Spanish team was in the Estádio da Luz, each one having picked their own locker.

Y/n was by Alexia's side as usual, talking about strategies, when one of the staff knocked on the door. Aitana was the one who answered. They spoke in hushed tones by the entrance.

When the door closed again, Aitana spoke.

"Guys, it's raining a lot," Aitana began. "The FIFA people said they'll postpone the game for thirty minutes until the thunderstorm goes away."

Everybody in the changing room groaned in unison.

Pina had a frown on her face, Jana rolled her eyes dramatically, and Alexia held the bridge of her nose like she was already feeling a headache coming.

"Mierda," the captain said as she put on a jacket over her jersey. "I hate it when this happens."

"Maybe this is better than being hit by a lightning, though," Vicky chimed in from across the room, but she shut up when Alexia gave her one of her looks.

"Okay, maybe it isn't," Vicky murmured quietly.

"Well," Patri said as she got up from the bench, "I'm going to the stadium's cafeteria, since we don't have anything to do for those thirty minutes."

She had her hand on the door handle, ready to leave, when Alexia spoke.

"Maybe we can go over the tactical plan once more and–"

Everyone on the team walked right past Alexia like she wasn't even there, completely ignoring her.

"Oh, I saw they had churros!" Leila said, smiling. "I haven't eaten one in months."

"And hot chocolate!" Salma agreed. "Wait, what are they called here…chocolate quente, right?"

"I wanna eat pastéis de belém again," Jana murmured to Vicky as they left the room. "I have been in love with them since Kika brought them to training."

Y/n smiled as she watched Alexia's grumpy face. She got closer to her, patting her back. "Yeah, Capitana, me parece que tus días de gloria ya pasaron." [Yeah, capitana, I think your glory days are over.]

Alexia followed Y/n as they left the locker room, walking to the cafeteria.

"Extraño cuando mi equipo todavía se preocupaba por el fútbol," Alexia mumbled, but Y/n could see there was no real bite to it. [I miss when my team still cared about football.]

"Es un amistoso, Ale," Y/n teased. "Tal vez cuando estemos en la Eurocopa volvamos a escucharte. [It's a friendly, Ale/Maybe we’ll start listening to you again when the Euros come around.]

"Más les vale que vuelvan." she said with a smile. [I really hope you'll listen to me again]

Y/n was talking to Alexia when she realised she had to pee.

She told Alexia and the other girls she would meet them in the cafeteria after she found herself a bathroom.

She walked through the corridors, trying to find a door with the words "Casa de banho". She knew a little bit of Portuguese to know it meant bathroom.

She looked for what felt like 10 minutes until she finally found it.

She happily opened the door, but what she didn't expect was to find Kika there, looking at herself in the bathroom mirror.

Kika didn't turn when Y/n opened the door; she probably didn't hear it, which made Y/n want to slowly turn around and pretend it never happened.

Y/n's plan went down the drain because in a matter of seconds, Kika turned to her.

She opened her mouth slightly, and then, the most beautiful smile appeared on her face.

"Oh!" Kika said, a sweet tone in her voice. "Hi!"

Y/n opened her mouth, then she closed it. She didn't know what to say, so she waved.

Waved.

Like one of those Penguins from Madagascar.

"I guess they told you guys about the rain, too, huh?" Kika said, but her smile faltered a bit when she realised Y/n wasn't smiling back. "Are–are you okay?"

Y/n wasn't okay. She absolutely wasn't fine.

She was expecting to talk with Kika after the game, not before. She had a plan. She had rehearsed how the conversation was going to go, and the conversation wasn't supposed to happen in a bathroom.

Y/n felt her hands shaking slightly, so she held onto them so Kika wouldn't see it.

"I kissed you," Y/n blurted out. "And I'm sorry, I know it wasn't right and I know I should have stayed instead of running away from Jana's apartment, but I was mad and confused and-and..."

Kika was caught off guard, and her face fell slightly. Maybe Kika wasn't the only one who had planned this conversation and saw that it wasn't going according to plan.

"It's okay," Kika took one step closer, as if she were approaching a wounded animal, unsure of what to do, unsure if it was going to bite. "You don't need to say you're sorry. I know you did it because you were annoyed at the girls, and honestly, I was getting annoyed too, so I'm happy you put an end to it."

Wait, Kika was annoyed too?

"Um, what?" Y/n managed to say. "You noticed they were doing all of those–"

"Matchmaking plans?" Kika chuckled. "Yeah, of course. One day, Vicky hid my boots in your locker, so I would have to ask you to get them for me."

"Oh," Y/n tilted her head. "I don't remember that happening."

"In the end, it didn't." Kika looked nervous now. "I opened your locker and got them before you got to the changing room."

"Oh," Y/n said, confused. "How do you know my password?"

"It's your birthday," Kika said simply, but there was a slight blush on her cheeks.

"Do you know when my birthday is?" Y/n asked, remembering her napkin, remembering how she wrote 'cares' on it.

"Yes," Kika nodded. "It's coming up, too, right? In two weeks?"

Y/n was getting ready to open her mouth when the bathroom door opened.

"Miss Nazareth, Miss Y/L/N," a guy in the stadium uniform said. "We've been looking for you. The rain is over, and the game is about to start. Your managers asked me to get you and have you two come back to the locker room."

"Obrigada, Paulo," Kika said, waving at the guy and already making her way to the door, following him. "A gente já vai ir." [Thanks, Paulo/We'll be going out in a minute.]

Kika turned to Y/n. "We're still talking after the game, right?"

"Sí," it was all Y/n managed to say.

Kika smiled one last time before leaving the bathroom.

Y/n didn't know how she was expected to play a whole match after this conversation.

a/n: Kika's back :D

Hope u guys liked it <3

Tag list: @footy-lover264 , @fortifyde, @naomigirmadefender , @neutraiise , @milkveed, @browercc , @ace-of-baked , @ikzzzya , @sky-the-trans-guy00 , @knight-16, @wosohk04, @evaissleepy13, @papimapileon , @unpoppablebubbles @whiskeredshrimp-blog @goodloe-e @liloandstitchstan @s0ciety-cxv @dfwspky @karmajn @awosofavs @wosofavfanfics

#woso x reader #woso fanfic #kika nazareth x yn #kika nazareth x reader #kika nazareth #stuck with you #wlw writing #wlw fanfic

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a-hazbin-reader · 1 year ago

Note

Do you have Alastor x drunk flirty Reader?😞

I wanna see how flustered he is omg

As per the poll~

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

✅️Romantic

❌️Platonic

TW: Alcohol, Drunk!Wife, Alastor STRUGGLING to contain his wife's rizz, He's embarrassed but likes it

Description:☝️⬆️

Alastor can handle his liquor pretty well, years of drinking with Mimzy has built up his tolerance to a considerable degree

As his wife, you had some tolerance but not nearly as high as your husband's, Mimzy often teasing you for not being able to keep up with the two of them

It didn't help that once the alcohol was in your system that your drunken mind just wanted your husband and his attention, so it was always painfully obvious when you were drunk

So you tried to limit yourself to a few drinks whenever you went out in order the avoid that outcome

But tonight, it had failed, Angel taking everyone out for drinks and dragging you along with them, your husband forced to tag along

Because he was not going to miss out on time with his wife, hell no, never gonna happen

You did try and keep to your limit, but the fun atmosphere and being surrounded by your friends made you loosen up a bit

Everyone kept buying more drinks and they kept coming your way, your husband started to try to drink some for himself but you had started to whine at him

"Alastor..! That's... my... my... mine..."

He squished your cheeks together to mess up your cute pout, your face flushed and stance a little wobbly

"You, my dear~ Are completely drunk right now...~"

He's a little drunk too but won't admit it

It's all he can do not to gush and coo over how cute you are, he forgot just how adorable you could be when you were drunk

You suddenly surge forward and sit yourself in his lap, arms wrapping around his neck as he struggles to balance the two of you on the barstool

"I'm not drunk~ Just needy for my husband~"

The combination of your low tone and fingers playing with the edges of his collar makes his face heat up, a small bleat escaping him

You lean against him, rubbing your cheek against his shoulder as you reach up to play with the ends of his hair instead, sighing happily

"You really are... just so handsome, you know~"

Alastor grips your hand gently to pull it away, clearing his throat before another embarrassed sound comes out, blushing slightly

"D-Darling... we're in public..!"

But you're not listening to him, your unsteady gaze on his lips and poking his nose happily

"You~ Are~ Just so~ Irresistible~"

He's mortified that your only reaction is to laugh and slap your hands over his cheeks, pulling him in for a long kiss

His ears twitch wildly as he hears the others whooping at the two of you, Angel, Charlie and Niffty being the loudest of the bunch

Alastor hardly gets the chance to catch his breath once you finally pull away, sputtering out nonsense about PDA and married couples

You don't even look ashamed of yourself, humming a song to yourself that he'll later realize was the love song you both dedicated to each other

"Darling, I think it's time for us to go home."

It's all he can do not to immediately give in when you whine and give him puppy eyes, clinging to him tightly once he picks you up

Only to feel flustered when that pathetic look turns into something more sultry and you grip his shirt to tug him closer to your face

"Alastor, you dirty rascal~ You just can't wait to get me home, huh~?"

Your laughter and teasing words make him blush more, having to look up at the ceiling in an effort to hide it

A pleasant chill runs up his spine as he feels your lips kissing along his neck, a hand sneaking under under his jacket

"Darling, please contain yourself..!"

"You never let me spoil you..! Come on, Alastor~ Let me treat you right~"

Another bleat escapes him as he quickly carries you out of the bar, only then realizing you managed to smuggle out a drink

"How in the world did you-"

You give him a sappy smile and press a finger to his lips, cooing at him like he's the one who's being silly

"I wouldn't be your wife if I didn't have ways of surprising you~"

His gaze softens a bit, and he leans down to nuzzle your head gently, savoring the soft sound that escapes your mouth

"You would always be my wife, no matter what..."

His little comment seems to sober you up suddenly, blushing and squeezing him tight the rest of the way back home, something he's grateful for

He would be mortified if anyone knew how easily his wife could fluster him when she really wanted to

He doesn't put you down until you two reach the hotel and even then he keeps an arm wrapped around you to keep you steady

"Alastor..! I can walk by myself, you know..!"

He only hums and kisses your head, not letting you go despite your whines and adorable protests

"I'm well aware, my dear~ Try to think of this as for my benefit~"

It was apparently the right choice of words because you practically purr and glue yourself to his side, putting nearly all you weight on him

"I see~ This is just another excuse to keep me close to you~ You softie~"

Another hot flush of embarrassment flows through him, too flustered to do anything other than accept the kiss you steal from his lips

And because he's a good husband, he helps you get ready for bed, getting you into your pajamas and making sure you drink some water before you lay down

Only to be taken by surprise when you suddenly tug him down on the bed next to you and roll on top of him, nearly tumbling off the bed from the momentum

"Darling! You'll fall!!"

It takes all of his strength and reflexes to grab your hips and haul you back into his lap, panting from the sudden adrenaline rush

You're oblivious to it, only leaning down to rub noses with him, a big smile on your face as you hug him

"Mmn... It's a good thing I have such a strong, powerful overlord husband to catch me, then, isn't it~?"

Maybe it was your flattery, or your adorable drunken nature, or the comfort of your weight settled on top of him, but Alastor suddenly just felt so warm and sleepy

His arms wrap around you, rubbing your back softly as he kisses the side of your head, sighing happily

"My dear, you are just such a treat... especially when you're completely and utterly drunk~"

You're already half asleep, head nestled against his chest and eyes closed, humming the same song as before

"Mn... not drunk..."

He chuckles softly and kisses your head again, nuzzling you before eventually noticing that you've fallen asleep

Alastor won't let go of you the entire night, not even when he himself falls asleep, so you wake up hungover and trapped in his arms

"Ugh... Alastor, let go of me. I think I got drunk last night..."

Your sudden struggle to escape his grip wakes him up, yawning and rolling onto his side yet not letting you go, only holding you tighter

"Mm... I told you so, darling..."

#hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin x reader

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alloftheimagines · 10 months ago

Text

joel miller | complications

masterlist | tag list

words: 2.9k warnings: 18+ | angst, near death experience, blood, reader has a traumatic birth w/complications, PTSD naturally, joel reminded of sarah's death, newbown baby (yes they can be spooky! but this one is cute and safe), (please just somebody take that poor man's pain away) (or not because then what would we write about?) (also he and ellie are a little estranged like in tlou2) prompt: I was thinking maybe Jackson! Joel era and pregnant reader and then she almost dies while giving birth to the baby! Gives room for a lot of drama and angst, and potential comfort right at the end for our favorite old man. tags: (i know it's been a while since I last posted so let me know if you want to be untagged) @sweetbabygirlsworld @m4tthewmurd0ck @domaniquessidehoe @spideysimpossiblegirl note: you can read this as pedro's joel if you so wish, but i am in my game!joel feels rn

“I can’t do this, Joel.” Your face creased with pain as another contraction wracked through you. You’d known that labour would hurt, of course, but you hadn’t expected it to come on this quickly, and so strong. You hadn’t yet passed the eight-month mark, and you weren’t prepared. Not even a little. You hadn’t even sorted the nursery yet, or found a crib.

Joel held your hand on the floor of your living room, keeping you supported while you braced against the couch. He brushed the hair from your face, calm and unreadable as ever, but even you didn’t miss the way his fingers trembled against your skin. “You got this, baby girl. I know you can.”

“Don’t think you have much of a choice.” Your doctor, one of the few midwives in town, lifted her head. She sat at your feet, peeling off her gloves after your examination. “You’re fully dilated. This baby is coming right now.”

“There’s no time to get to the infirmary?” you questioned, voice rising in panic. The contractions had barely started an hour ago, and sure, you’d left it a little late before confessing that they were getting painful. Ellie had rushed out not fifteen minutes ago to call for your midwife’s help, and now…

Now, the baby was coming, and all you could think was that it wasn’t supposed to be like this. The pregnancy had been a shock to your system. You hadn’t even been sure that Joel would want to go through with it after everything he’d experienced before. But he’d held your hand through each ultrasound, felt your belly for the first kick, and even when you saw fear — dread, even — cross his features, you could easily reassure him that this time was different. This time, it was safe. You’d lived in Jackson for over a year now, and it was the security of the community that had made motherhood feel possible.

The midwife shook her head. “I’m sorry. You need to start pushing on your next contraction.”

“Oh, god,” you whispered, teeth chattering as the weight of the situation hit you.

“Hey, look at me.” Joel tilted your chin gently. “It’s gonna be just fine, darlin’. You just breathe and push, okay? We’ll do the rest.”

“Right, just breathe and push,” you muttered. “Of course, you forgot the part about shoving a small human out of my hoo-ha.”

He smirked, planting a kiss on your forehead. “Oh, right. That little detail.”

“I kinda hate you right now.” Just as you said it, another contraction hit, and your head fell back as you moaned.

“Push now if you feel like you should!” your midwife reminded. Then, to Ellie: “Go get some clean towels, hon. Lots of ‘em.”

In the doorway, Ellie looked grateful to be given a job and scampered off.

You did as instructed, dipping your chin into your chest as you pushed, pushed, pushed. A scream ripped through you at the pain it brought, each moment worse than the last.

“You’re doing so good, baby. So good. She’s gonna be here so soon,” Joel whispered, his grip around you the only thing keeping you tethered to the here and now.

Dizziness consumed you as your contraction finally eased. “Is she okay?”

“I’m seeing the head.” The midwife beamed. “Just a few more pushes, okay?”

Somehow, you breathed, and you pushed, and you felt your way through the pain as your body broke and mended and then broke again. Joel kept his grip on your hand tight, reassuring, but you saw him bite his lip toward the end and knew that he might have been just as terrified as you.

The final push finally came, and you sunk back as the newborn's cry rang out.

“She’s here. You did it,” Joel murmured, kissing your clammy temple. He laughed into your skin, the sound of joy and disbelief sending a shiver through you. You tried to lift your head, to see your daughter, but everything felt wrong. Heavy. It still hurt, and black spots dotted your vision.

“Le’ me see her.” Your words were slurred, your voice far away.

The last thing you heard was Joel calling your name, his voice raw and broken — terrified.

***

“What’s wrong with her?” he demanded.

“She’s bleeding too heavily. I need to get her to the infirmary.” The midwife shook her head, handing him the screaming newborn. His screaming newborn. It had taken months to quell the panic of becoming a father again — not that he had ever truly stopped. Sarah had lived in his heart all these years, and Ellie was his daughter, even if she hated him for what he did.

He made the mistake of looking at you, and the sight of the blood made him sick. So much of it. There was so damn much of it. He’d seen a lot of people bleed out, but he couldn’t remember ever seeing this much.

“Shit," he cursed.

He didn’t know when Ellie had returned, but she stood wan and she’ll shocked beside him now.

“Please, take her.” He shoved the baby into her arms before lowering back to his knees to grab your hand. “Don’t you dare do this to me, baby. Not now.”

“Can you carry her to the infirmary?” the midwife asked desperately.

He didn’t think twice, slipping his arms under your limp body.

“Joel! She’s gonna be alright, right?” Ellie stuttered, and he heard the panic in her voice, too, as she swayed the baby from side to side, swaddling her in blankets. You were the closest thing Ellie had to a mother. If either of them lost you…

He couldn’t even try to find an answer, as much as he wanted it to be yes.

He gritted his teeth, hauling you up on shaky legs. Thankfully, the infirmary was only a few blocks away, and nobody was there to slow him down so late at night.

He couldn’t make sense of it. One minute, he’d been settling down for the night after a long patrol shift. The next, you were curled up in pain, claiming the baby was coming.

“Stay with me,” he pleaded, fingers curling into your old sweater. His old sweater, if he was being particular, but you’d stolen it from him so long ago that it smelled completely of you now: soap and fresh air. Blood.

He staggered into the infirmary with that smell still in his nostrils, dampness spreading across his hands, and he damn near passed out on the threshold. But he wouldn’t, couldn’t, leave you, even when flashes of him holding Sarah this exact way raced through his mind. Even when a broken sob stuck in his throat, because he was holding on, and you weren’t, and she wasn’t, and why did he always have to be the one to watch the life seep from them? To end the night with nothing but their blood on his hands?

He set you down on the first bed he came to, drawing the alarmed attention of the nurses, who had a moment ago been ready to dose off on their night shift. In such a small community, they weren’t often needed after dark.

Behind him, the midwife called out orders, wheeling you away into the surgery theatre. He watched you disappear into a white-walled room, a tiny thing that never would have sufficed in the old world.

In the old world, you probably wouldn’t have given birth in a living room. In the old world, he wouldn’t be stiff with a fear he couldn’t control, frozen with memories that refused to ever leave him.

He spun around and felt unsettled to see Ellie cradling the baby, mouth agape with the same cluelessness he felt. His baby. His. He had to be a father now, but he didn’t know how when you weren’t here with him. He felt like that thing he was always losing in his dreams was finally gone for good. Ripped from him one last time.

He couldn’t look at the baby’s cherubic face. Couldn’t even look at Ellie.

He couldn’t remember why he’d been so relaxed just yesterday to think of the little life you’d both been impatiently waiting to begin. Couldn’t remember how he’d found the strength to sing a lullaby to your bump, laughing when a foot kicked his palm as though telling him to shut the hell up.

What the fuck was he supposed to do now? She was so tiny and pink and new, wrapped in bloody blankets, and he…

“Go give her to one of the nurses,” he whispered.

“Joel—” Ellie made to protest, but he couldn’t hear it. Wouldn't.

“Ellie,” he snapped. “Go give her to one of the damn nurses. I can’t.”

“Well, you don’t have a fucking choice, because she’s yours now.” Ellie shoved her into his hands without warning. He tensed with the new weight, bile rising in his stomach. No. No. No. Everything he held, he broke.

But then the baby let out a gurgle, her feet kicking his palm just like the night before when she was still safe in your belly, and he couldn’t keep from looking down at her. Couldn’t keep from seeing you in all her innocent features. Eyes, nose, even the fine tuft of hair on her head.

“I can clean her down and check she’s doing okay,” a nurse offered, and suddenly, he was reluctant to let her go.

And then he remembered you, the blood, your motionless body after so long spent screaming, Ellie’s hatred, Tess, Sarah, and he was glad for somebody else to take care of her. The further away that kid was, the better. He was a fucking curse, and she…

He scraped a hand over his face, pacing over to the surgery room. He didn’t dare march in, no matter how badly he wanted to.

“She’s going to be okay,” Ellie said from behind him gently. “She’s strong, and I’m sure shit like this happens all the time.”

“I told her we’d be okay,” Joel rasped out, face crumpling finally. “I told her that it would turn out alright, that we could be… That we could make something good here.”

“And you will,” Ellie said.

He shook his head. “I might as well have killed her my damn self.” He looked down at his bloodied hands as though they weren’t his. They shook more than they ever had before.

“Stop it! She’s going to make it. She has to!” Ellie’s yell took him aback, piercing in such a quiet, echoey space. She jabbed a finger into Joel’s shoulder. “And you have to hold it together. I know it’s fucking hard, alright, but you don’t get to lose it now! You can’t blame yourself for everything that goes wrong in our lives, Joel! That’s not how it works!”

He swallowed down his own self-loathing, head bowed. “I can’t do it without her,” he whispered.

The rawness in his voice must have been visceral, because Ellie paused, her eyes filling with tears.

And then she hugged him, tight enough that he thought maybe she was trying to keep him in one piece. He let out a ragged breath and held her. And then he did what she asked. He tried to hold it together.

***

You woke to whispers and gurgles and wondered for a moment if you were dreaming. Your lids were heavy, body distant, and you couldn’t quite remember where you were or who was supposed to be with you.

Until you prised your eyes open and found IVs plugged into your veins.

“There she is,” a voice said softly.

You blinked, searching for the source, and found it in a bleary version of Joel. He sat in a chair beside your bed, a tiny baby in his arms. His smile was shaky, distorted, and you didn’t know why. Not until he leaned forward and brushed your hair from your face with his free arm.

“Thought you’d left me there for a second.”

“Is she okay?” Your throat was hoarse.

He nodded. “Right as rain. It’s you we were worried about.”

You frowned, trying to remember. One minute, you were pushing as though your life depended on it, and then the next, you were just… gone.

“You had a heavy bleed. Needed a transfusion,” Joel explained finally. “But they reckon you’re gonna be okay, thank god.”

“But she’s okay?” You stared at the baby nestled against his chest, not quite sure how she was here. When had this being growing inside of you become a real, tangible thing? How much of her life had you already missed?

Joel sighed impatiently. “Yes, baby. She’s perfect. Takes after her mom in that department.”

He moved to perch beside you so that you could get a closer look. He was right, of course. She was a little smaller than most newborns, but she was perfect. Pink apple cheeks, wide eyes, tiny fingernails. Looking at her felt like everything had finally fallen into place. You tickled her chin and her lips twitched with something content. Something right.

“How’s it feel, being a daddy again?” you asked gently, looking up at him.

“Right now, it feels like hell. You can’t go scaring me like that.” He wouldn’t look at you, frown set firmly on his daughter. “Thought I was gonna have a heart attack."

“I’m sorry.” You couldn’t imagine how scared he must have been. After everything, you’d finally thought that danger, terror, was a thing of the past. You’d done a great job of ruining that, even if it wasn’t on purpose. Joel had lost too much before to deal with all this, and you had no idea how you’d cope in his shoes.

He chuckled. “You’re sorry.” Shook his head. “I ain’t trying to make you apologise for almost dying, darlin’. You don’t gotta worry about me.”

“We said we could do this right,” you whispered. “I promised you it’d be different.”

“Yeah, well… feels like things’ll never be different for me.”

You snapped your head up. “What’s that mean?”

“Nothin’.” He sighed, kissing your temple, and yet still, he wouldn’t meet your eye. “How about you get some rest? I’ll keep the little missus company.”

“Joel.” You cupped his jaw, pleading now. Everything felt so wrong. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Even though the proof was right in front of you, it was hard to believe your baby was happy and healthy after all the trauma you’d faced. “We’re not gonna start her life this way. Tell me what you mean.”

He placed the baby down in the crib beside your bed before pinching the bridge of his nose. “I keep having to plan a life where I’m alone again, and honestly, I don’t know how I’d do it if I had to. Not this time.”

“But you’re not alone. I’m right here.”

“But you weren’t. For a minute there, I thought…” His voice grew thick, and he shook his head. “Sarah’s gone. Ellie hates me. Why the hell did I think it’d be third time lucky? She’s not even a day old, and she almost lost her mom! And there was nothing I could do. There’s never anything I can do.”

Your heart ached for him. One day, you prayed he wouldn’t hold the responsibility of every single person he loved on his shoulders. Maybe he was right. Maybe you’d been foolish to go into this thinking it could be better. The world would never be safe, not even here in Jackson, and the pain he must live with every day sure as hell wouldn’t ease now he had another daughter to raise.

You felt hollow at the thought that maybe he’d leave. You wouldn’t blame him, not really. You were scared, too. But you’d only found the strength to do this because you were together, and you’d survived the odds so far. If that stopped feeling true… what then?

Devastation must have been written all over your face, because he pursed his lips. “Don’t listen to me, baby. I shouldn’t be sayin’ all this. You’re barely out of the woods.”

“I don’t think we can keep doing this if you don’t let some of that guilt and blame go, Joel,” you admitted. “I think your daughter is gonna need a man who doesn’t hate himself for every single thing that’s wrong in the world. You’re right. There was nothing you could have done to stop this from happening. It was my body, and things like this happened even before the outbreak. I can’t imagine how scared you were, love, but fuck, you can’t keep making it your fault. It isn’t. It never was, especially not with Sarah. And this baby? She isn't Sarah."

He winced at her name, as he often still did. Collapsing back in his chair, he took your hand. Slowly, his lower lip began to wobble as he finally met your gaze. “I love you too much to lose you. And her… How the hell am I gonna do this?”

“I can’t answer that,” you said. “We knew it wouldn’t be easy.”

He snorted. “Ain’t that the truth.” Then, he bowed his head to press a kiss to the back of your hand. “Gonna try to be better. I promise. I'll hold it together."

“You don’t need to be better, and you don't need to hold it together. You’re already a good man, and talking about all this is important - for both of us. And for her.” You squeezed his fingers tightly. “I love you so much.” You teared up as you looked at the baby dozing in her crib. “And god, I love her. Can you believe we made her?”

He hummed. “What the hell are we gonna call her?”

“And where the hell are we gonna put her?” you added, worrying at your lip. “We never even found a crib.”

He shrugged, teasing. “I’m sure we’ll find a corner somewhere.” He leaned forward, tracing circles along your arm. “We’ll make do. Between the four of us, we’ll find a way. I’ll cut the damn trees down and build us a place from scratch myself if I have to.”

You smiled, peace finally flooding your exhausted body. You saw Ellie standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame with her arms crossed, and knew Joel was right. Your family was complete now. It would be a little broken at times, as all things were, but you’d do everything in your power to keep it whole.

Even if it meant reminding Joel every damn day that he had to be gentle with himself.

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lotus-lamps · 5 months ago

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(almost) all the bsd drawings i made in procreate around like 2023-2024. these never saw the light of day until now because i never bothered finishing any one of them and also my art style was going through its awkward teenage phase lmao.

the tagging system isnt working help-

edit: HELP I FORGOT ABOUT DOA LMAO

(also fun fact that skk drawing was the first ship art i made. ever. because my friend asked me to lmao. i used a base btw)

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just-a-sketchbook · 4 months ago

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First Quilt!

It has been a lot of fun and a lot of trial and error but it's done!!!

It's roughly 1.20 x 1.20m (which is a number of feet I can't be bothered to look up but let's say it's about child sized and it'll be great to chill on the couch).

I want to thank @langdon813 who I've never talked to (sorry if you hate being tagged) but whose gorgeous Drunkard path quilts made me wanna do it too :)

I had never done any quilting before (but I did sew), so here's what I've learned, if any beginner is interested in jumping off the deep end the way I did and wants advice from someone who has freshly acquired experience but will also not use any confusing technical terms (with pictures!) :

Fabric picking : so most advice I read was to go for pre-selected bundles of fabric that already go together, but I'm contrary and like to do my own thing so I used wax fabric (the blue ones on top the pile) I had laying around, which I strongly recommend: it's very easy to cut due to it being waxed, and I added a few fat squares from the shop, plus I also had the orange and blue floral and I based the coulour scheme on it. One thing that's true is it would have been easier to work with fabric of the same thickness, and the floral was givne to me by my ma who got in on trip to Thailand and it was alot thinner than the rest which didn't help.

Cutting: I got a rotary cutter for the occasion and it's great! Do not maybe push too hard on it and give yourself nerve damage the way I did (temporary but still), it's actually ery sharp and easy to use, so long as your template doesn't slip you're fine

Piecing :Yes you can do curved piecing even if you have zero experience, you just gotta make a template and

pin it a lot.

1/4 inch margins is the standard so I rolled with it because I don't like converting, but when you're strictly metric it is kind of annoying but doable because my machine does have a 1/4 inch mark and if you stick a length of tape along it it's pretty easy to follow, even for curved piecing.

Layout: At some point you've got to decide the layout is done, because I've re-arranged the blocks at least 6 times and it's a very good way to go insane. (For rough reference, my plan was to have no repeat fabrics in any of the circle-in-a-square blocks, and I only made one mistake which I clocked too late to change)

Chain piecing!! Meaning you pile your blocks together in a specific order (that I personnaly wrote straight up on each piece with a very sophisticated letter/numbers down/across system) and then just sew them together in a line without having to cut the thread between each pair. Looks a little like a fanion banner and at some point it feels like you'll be forever tangled into it but then it's magic :) It's not that hard actually and will save you a lot of time + there's a lot of online tutorials you can use.

Basting! (which it took me while to understand is the part where you attach the backing, the fluff and the quilt top together) : you need more safety pins. Safety pins will save you from the wrinkles and the unfortunate oopsies of realising you've caught your backing double folded into your quilting stitch, which I did a good three times and was not fun to undo. Also, I forgot to tape the backing to the floor and it probably would have helped with the wrinkling...

Backing : I used an old linen table cloth I got for 10€ at a charity shop, and I've still got about 2/3 of it left, so I recommend that, it's sturdy but soft enough, doesn't thread easily and can be washed at very high temps, if that's a thing you do.

Quilting! Well, my machine came with a quilting foot for free motion quilting (which means you're the one moving the fabric along in whichever direction and you can sort of draw with your stitches) and it seemed fun so I did that, and here's what I learned : curves are hard but doable, also my machine doesn't like to go back (kept skipping sitiches for some reason) so it involves a lot of shifting the quilt around, which isn't easy considering the bulk. And also, drawing the quilting pattern you want so you can follow it while quilting actually does help, I used an iron/heat-erasable pen and it worked just fine. Check your stitch tension, mine was too loose and I realised too late so there's spots where I could pull on the thread and it looped, had to stitch back over that.

Quilitng pattern : I wasn't sure what to do, supposedly your batting (aka: the fluff) comes with instructions on how tight you should quilt to avoid it coming apart through use but I got mine cut at the fabric shop and forgot to ask so I just rolled with a rough 10cm maximum distance in between stitching lines but tried to do less in most places. According to many blogs : the tighter your lines the stiffer your quilt, so I kept it loose for comfort. (Picture is halfway done, I added a smaller square/circle inside each square/circle and if you look at it you'll see it's actually diagonal lines form one end of the fabric to the other.)

Binding is boring, and there's nothing to it. I got a length of pre-cut bias binding, machine-sewed it front to front to the quilt top side of the quilt and the folded it back and secured it by hand to the back with a ladder stitch. Took me roughly and entire rewatch of the Last Of Us. There's a trick to doing the corners that's fairly simple but I've lost the tutorial...

Overall : I got myself a quilting book with techinques and such and it helped, but there's a ton of stuff online, and once you get over the very Christian American mum vibe of most of the blogs, it's all very helpful (and gorgeous!) (no offense meant to Christian American mums, it's just a bit of a culture shock from where I'm standing).

#quilting #quilters of tumblr #quiltblr #quilt tutorial #quilt pattern #quilt #drunkard path #home sewing #sewing #sewing project #beginner's quilt #beginner quilting

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grimmsbride · 7 months ago

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SHE ft. SATORU & SUGURU / Reader but check your window.. he’s at your window 𓈒ིུ𖥨᩠ׄ݁˖

on one of your few off days you decided to fill the night with a true blood marathon and shitty snacks. unfortunately for you, a bump in the night suddenly stills all your plans

𓂂 ͜ᩘ ̵̼͓̥͒̾͘𑣿 ⁣⁣⠀ NOTES ╲ i posted this on wattpad & ao3 & completely forgot to post this here. if you know my old account “selfishdoll” i made a similar fic before that a lot of people loved. this is a rewrite / rework. i was supposed to make a continuation but 🤷🏾‍♀️. also this is a way to ease from mouthwashing back into jjk. don’t worry i’m not done with mw i just would like to get back writing jjk again. as always please excuse any typos & or grammar mistakes <3

"C'mon baby.." You crooned softly, blinking and squinting in an attempt to spot your beloved dog. It was dark outside, the sky painted in a pretty black with specks of white lazily dotted across the canvas. And while your backyard light helped your sight, it did little when your black dog seemed to mix in with the background. Regardless after a still moment the pretty little thing came bundling from the darkness, tail wagging and rushing into your home. You smiled, sliding the glass door closed and flicking the lock— listening for that signature click to assure it was locked.

You turned in time to see the puppy waltz over to his bed, scratching at the perfectly folded blanket for a moment before being satisfied with the bundle he created. You had no idea why you continued to fold the blanket at all. Maybe you enjoyed watching the furry beast mess with it, or maybe you were just a control freak that needed order in every way; even when it came to old, dingy rags that belonged to a canine.

Anyway, tonight wasn't the night to delve into that. You had planned to lay across the couch, watching True Blood while devouring just about every snack in your house.

Whoever created the system known as "Paid Time Off" deserved a huge smooch.

You walked over to your kitchen, opening the fridge and snatching a cold soda and water bottle. Setting them off to the side, you then moved onto a small box of assorted chocolates all ranging from caramel and other delicious nougats. Finished with your cold items you shut the fridge, moving over to your pantry and snatching the door open. Your eyes moved about the cans, noodles, and other dried goods before settling on the little corner dedicated to your chips and cookies.

You came closer, outstretching your arm towards the corner and grabbing the first bag. Dragging it forward, you quickly realize your laziness would be the death of you; given the moment your hand moved the bag brushed against a box of elbow macaroni, knocking it to the ground. The force caused the contents to spill right there infront of you, a loud groan escaping you as you looked at the mess. What's more, your dog rushed from his bed, bounding over in hopes of lapping up the hard food, clearly reacting on greed rather than knowing what it even was.

"Nuh uh— go, back to your bed!" You huffed in an authoritative tone, watching the greedy thing rush back to his bed with a little gruff. You rolled your eyes, placing your chips off to the side and grabbing your broom from the closet beside you. Slowly you began to sweep up your mess, assuring to get every single noodle as not to attract bugs or greedy dogs that act like they haven't been fed in years.

Once swept all into a pile, you kneeled down to hold your dustpan flat— balancing and using your other hand to sweep the trash into it. A minute passed and you were finished, rising to your full height and walking over to the trash bin; emptying the dustpan. With that little hiccup solved you moved on; putting the cleaning supplies away, washing your hands, and grabbing your snacks on the way to the couch.

You walked around the plush furniture, flopping on the makeshift palette of blankets you created. Sinking into the comfort, you reached over for the remote and started the episode; a blissful smile crossing your features. You opened your chips, pressing the bag up against your arm whilst using your other hand to grab one, chomping without a care.

Your eyes focused on the tv screen for a while before they shifted over to a sudden light on your coffee table. Your phone. You reached over, grabbing the device and bringing it closer. There, after using facial ID, you noticed a missed call. The contact?

Unknown.

Your eyebrows drew close, swiping up and clicking your call logs. Pressing the one labeled unknown you watched it ring for a moment, pressing speaker as you were too lazy to bring it to your ear. It rung for what seemed like minutes, your hand slowly going slack from how long you were waiting. And just when you thought of putting your phone down the familiar sound of the call being accepted echoed throughout your living room.

"Hello?" You called softly, bringing the receiver closer to your mouth. When you heard nothing, for the first few seconds you pulled back; wondering if they ended it. But no, the seconds counted by, both phones clearly still on call. So you gave a much louder greeting, hoping for a response.

And, you were given one. You just.. didn't quite enjoy it.

Heavy breathing came from the other line, fanning against the receiver in a rather unnerving rhythm. A prank caller? The possibility ran through your mind as you listened, bringing the phone close to your ear. You sat there, unmoving— attempting to listen harder than what physically possible.

In doing so, you didn't notice your beloved dog hop up from his rest until his barks caused you to nearly jump out of your skin. You spun around, spotting his attention to the glass door separating the outside from your home. Your stomach quickly became a pit of fear, rising from your couch and waltzing over to the kitchen.

Flicking the overhead light on, you soon reached the patio light. As nervous as ever you flicked the light on, anticipating the worst. But, as your eyes scanned what you could see, nothing popped out. Nothing alarming, nothing worth barking over surely.

You sighed, shoulders falling from its previous stiff position, glancing over at your phone. To your surprise the call had ended in the midst of you inspecting the backyard. Curiosity grew slowly, but you decided against acting on it.

Hearing someone breathe in the phone for another ten mins just wasn't as exciting as it seemed.

You turned the light off, turning to your pet that was currently standing behind you, watching the backyard just as intently. You shook your head, leaning down and collecting him into your arms.

"Time to go to bed honey."

You murmured. You walked towards a door connected to your dining room, opening it and placing the dog onto his feet. Like clockwork he was walking over to his crate tucked to the side, curling up in another bed placed within it. You kneeled down, locking the crate's door before standing.

"Night baby." You spoke as if he could understand, turning on your heel and closing the door behind you. Just in time for your phone to go off.

The ringer was loud, an annoying mistake that caused you to quickly press your finger against the sound button, lowering its volume. You brought your phone to your face, contorting your expression the moment you read the contact.

Unknown.

Okay, this is getting annoying.. You thought to yourself, accepting the call as you moved back to your couch. With your annoyance slightly clear you greeted the caller, bottom making contact with the cushions and sinking in.

For moment all was silent, causing your annoyance to deepen. Again, it seemed you have fallen for another prank or scam— regardless of what it was, it was ruining your True Blood all nighter. You opened your mouth to speak again, only to be rudely interrupted by another's voice.

"Hello."

The voice was gravely, scratchy, and deep.. slightly unnerving as well. You waited for the person to speak again, but was met with nothing. Just.. more heavy breathing.

"Uhm.." You dragged, attempting to remain polite despite your frustration. "—You've called twice already.. is this like a wrong number situation or?.."

For a moment the voice didn't speak, as if fully processing what you said. Then, they muttered in that same voice;

"Oh, really? I'm sorry, I must have called the wrong number."

Your shoulders relaxed, leaning back against your couch. "Hey, it's okay. It happens to me sometimes too." You decided to laugh it off, a little surprised when you heard the stranger do the same. "Well, goodbye—"

"Wait.. we don't have to cut the call so soon."

Your eyebrows twitched, the amusement from before slowly trickling away. "Uhm.. what?"

"C'mon, you don't seem to be busy. How about we chat for a while?"

You looked around, as if searching for an imaginary camera to capture your reaction; which was a look of disbelief that slowly formed into a scowl.

"Er— I am. I'm trying to watch True Blood."

"True Blood? That one southern vampire show?" The stranger questioned, listening out for your little hum of acknowledgement. He chuckled softly, a breathy thing that fanned into your phone. "So, you like scary media?"

Your eyes rolled, "True Blood isn't scary by any means but— yes, I guess I do like most scary things."

"Yeah? What's your favorite?"

"And why on Earth would I tell you?"

You heard rustling on the other side of the line, causing your interest to pique. You wanted to ask what he was doing, but something told you not to. Regardless, you weren't sure he would give much of an answer anyway. You two didn't even know each other's names after all.

"For fun. Don't you like to have fun?"

"With complete strangers? No." You huffed, biting the inside of your cheek the moment the other laughed. As he talked more, you couldn't help but think how attractive his voice was. Perfectly deep, yet playful enough— as if you could practically hear his smile. Your fingers wrapped around the t-shirt you wore, cringing internally.

A voice? Really? Was it that easy to get you going?

"I.. uh, I guess my favorite would have to be Hellraiser."

"Oh wow..I was expecting something like Halloween or IT. You're a bigger horror nerd than I took you for."

For some reason that caused a sense of pride to enter your body, lips curling into a little smile. "Yeah, I guess I am."

"If that's the case, you wouldn't mind a little pop quiz would you? Since you're.. such a huge fan."

Your eyes trailed over to the television, realizing your little sexy vampire marathon just didn't seem as appealing anymore. Your lips pressed together, lying across the couch and humming softly.

"What do I get when I get all of them right?"

"We'll see.." The other hummed automatically, more shuffling being heard from his end. "But of course, wrong answers will be punished."

"But of course." You chuckled, eyes rolling a bit.

"First question, who was the main antagonist in Hellraiser?"

You scoffed, an are you serious? expression crossing your face. "Pinhead. Duh. If it's gonna be this easy, I should get back to my show."

The stranger laughed softly, "Just warming up. Have some patience." The call went silent for a moment, you assuming he was thinking of another question. This gave you the opportunity to scroll through the many horror flicks you've watched, picking out facts and guessing questions he may ask. A moment passed before he interrupted your concentration;

"What 2016 South Korean zombie film takes place on a train?"

Another, easy one. Truly if it continued like this you might just have to hang up. "Train to Busan."

"Right again! That's two in a row."

"I told you I was good."

"Mm.." The stranger hummed, "How about this.. what movie follows a deaf girl in a world infected by creatures that only react to sound?"

"A quiet place! C'mon stranger y—"

"I'm sorry but that's— incorrect!"

You blinked quickly, eyebrows coming close. "You're lying! It is a quiet p—"

"While you are right, the movie I had in mind was The Silence."

"How the hell was I supposed to know that? Who the hell watched that movie anyway?!" You spoke, sucking your teeth. Your annoyance simmered, nearly boiling over as you heard the other cackle over the line.

"What a sore loser. Since it's only one, you won't get a punishment this time."

You huffed, sinking deeper into the cushions and grumbling something intelligible. "Continue."

He chuckled, enjoying your annoyance far too much. "What are the three rules when taking care of a Mogwai in the film, gremlins?"

You hopped up, grinning ear to ear; confident you had this one in the bag. Your hand stretched out, a finger curling to rest into your palm; "Don't feed it after midnight," another lowered, "no bright lights, and—" the third finger staggered, your eyes widening the moment you realized a ridiculously timed brain fart was interrupting.

"Don't uh.." You dragged, hoping the filler word would somehow cause your brain to work. Of course it didn't, causing you to sit there, mouth gaping like an idiot. A cold sweat brushed over you the moment the other started talking again.. realizing what his words were—

A countdown.

"5...4...3.." The stranger stretched the three; voice masked with amusement, enjoying your struggle. You stumbled, searching urgently for the words that just weren't there.

"Don't—"

"Times up!" The stranger interrupted, laughter hinging onto his words. "Two in a row! Losing your spark so quickly?" He taunted you.

You sighed heavily, leaning back over the couch with your eyes pinched closed in annoyance. You really shouldn't be this frustrated, it was just an odd game between strangers— nothing more. It's not like you were getting money for it. Whatever. You tried to convince yourself, eyes blinking open slowly, widening the moment your vision focused.

There in your backyard, you could have sworn, maybe you were just being paranoid— but.. you swore you saw a figure simply standing there; separated by the glass. But as quickly as you saw it, it was gone, as if nothing more than your mind playing tricks.

You swallowed heavily, turning to lay on your stomach and squint. Hard. Somehow trying to make your eyesight better than what it truly was. But as you continued such strain, you didn't see a thing. Nothing. No explanation, at all.

"You still there, little miss horror fanatic?"

His words caused you to jump, nearly forgetting the cold device pressed to your ear. You pulled the phone back, lips pursing together silently, trying to relax your frantic heart. Talking to a stranger and a horror quiz just wasn't the greatest mix, was it? No wonder you were acting so paranoid.

Slowly you turned to face your television, sinking into the cushions.

"I'm here."

"Good, good— we have to figure out your punishment after all."

You rolled your eyes, the fear that was once placated you, disappearing. "And what exactly is my punishment? You hanging up?" You joked, grinning a bit the moment you heard his soft chuckle.

"No, nothing like that. Maybe taking your power will suffice?"

"Wha—"

All at once, every fan, light, and even your television seemed to shut off. You jumped up from the couch, eyes struggling against the darkness of your house as you frantically searched for the remote. You finally found it, slamming your fingers into the power button— but to no avail; it refused to turn on. This caused your anxiety to spike, shallow breaths escaping you.

"Getting scared?"

Without thinking you pulled your phone back from your ear, slamming the end call button. What.. just happened? How did— how did he turn off your power? You desperately searched for an answer, trying to rationalize this madness playing before you.

There was no way he turned off your power purposely.. right? There was just..

You decided to stop thinking, bringing your phone up and pressing the flashlight button. Your hand moved, lighting up your living room— a small act of comfort for your rapidly beating heart. You walked towards the wall, flicking at the switch only to sigh the moment it refused to turn on.

You debated your options. If he had truly been able to shut off your power, how did he do it? Manually? If so, going outside just seemed like the worst choice. Maybe he did it remotely; maybe some kind of phone emp that.. killed everything but your phone?

"That makes.. total sense." You spoke, ridiculing yourself just a little. You leaned against your wall for a moment, the cool structure consoling you. Only, for a moment.

You jumped as your phone rang again, completely shutting off your flashlight, rendering you back to darkness. With a shaky hand you brought the phone close, sucking in a breath as you spotted the name.

You accepted the call, "What did you do?! Why.. why can't I turn on anything?"

Through sputters the other replied, "I did say you would receive a punishment, why are you so surprised?"

"I don't want to play this game anymore, just—" You slowly breathed, trying to calm down. "..please, fix my power."

Your request received silence for a still moment, the only sound being your heart begging to escape your chest. You stood, against that same wall that once comforted you— now doing the exact opposite.

Finally, he spoke.

"If you get this answer correctly, I just might."

You pulled the phone from your ear to release a shaky breath, eyes squinting closed. You had no faith in yourself for answer nor the stranger to not give you a trick question. But, it seemed the only way to get what you wanted was to play by his rules.

"Fine." You muttered, bringing the phone back to your ear.

"Good. So I shouldn't expect whining if you get it wrong and I punish you — right?" The smile was clear in his speech, a potent dare that he was just begging you to accept. And against your better judgment, you did; muttering out a simple yes squeezing the fabric of your clothes between your fingers.

"Excellent! And to make this even more fun, how about a speed round? Ready? Let's go; what is the name of the fictional town in which the events of Halloween take place?"

"Haddonfield."

"Correct!— Which horror movie features a family being terrorized by doppelgängers?—"

"Us!"

"Right again! Two more sweetheart, and you'll get your beloved power back!"

You breathed heavily, tightening the hold on your phone. Calm down.. you can't think when you're so frantic.

"In 'The Grudge' what is the name of the spirit that curses the house?"

"Ka—kayako Saeki—!"

The other laughed heartily, "You are on a roll! Last one, it's for alllllll the marbles.. where am I?"

In that moment it felt like someone was squeezing your throat, rendering you breathless; clawing at an imaginary hand to fight for breath. Your eyes danced around your dark house, chest tight as little tears pricked at your eyes.

"What?.." Your tone was breathy, fear clearly running through your veins.

"You heard me." The way he spoke, all amusement, all laughter ceasing to exist. This.. wasn't a game anymore, was it?

"Where.. am.. I?"

Tears were streaming at this point, head whipping back and forth between your backyard door and the front. You struggled to pick, knowing the wrong answer meant your demise. You couldn't.. you had to guess right, y—you just.. had to!

"The front door! You're on my porch!"

"Go check."

You swallowed heavily, glancing at the door. Slowly, toy pulled yourself off the wall, shaky footsteps leading you forward. You couldn't hear a thing from the other line, making you wonder if he muted himself. Either way, you didn't care; the thought of hearing him at this moment was just too much to bear. You continued your snail like pace, shaky, gasping as you approached the door. A barrier between you and what you assumed was standing behind it, waiting for you.

You panted softly, watching your own hand reach for the knob as if an out of body experience. Expertly, routinely; your fingers flicked the lock, listening to the usual mechanism. Then, your palm enveloped the golden knob, twisting.. carefully.

Twist.. twist.. pull. Slowly, you opened the door, listening to the hinges for a soft moment before deciding to rip the bandage off— swinging it open the rest of the way, nearly hitting the wall behind if it wasn't for your hand.

And just like that.. all color drained from your face, as you glanced at your porch, your doorstep.

Your completely, empty, doorstep.

Laughter suddenly echoed from your phone, your blood running cold. You sputtered,

"Please! Please just give me another ch—"

Your speech was interrupted as heavy footsteps bounded from your stairs. You whipped around in time to spot a large figure cloaked in black, face covered rushing towards you. You screeched, scrambling to make it out of the door, only for his arms to suddenly wrap around your waist, stilling your movement.

"You lost.." The tone in your ear was sing-songy, arms tightening the more you struggled. You felt the plastic of his mask dig into your neck as he leaned into, fingers digging into your flesh almost perversely. "Poor, poor [Name]."

Before you could whine out, you were met with the sound of your power being restored. You gaped like a fish, confused completely. If he was here now, how the hell did it turn back on?

An answer quickly presented itself. One, you didn't quite like.

Footsteps carried from your porch, and through glossy eyes you spotted another figure approaching your home. The one holding you backed up a bit, carrying you with him— and allowing his partner-in-crime to enter your home. Once he did so, he shut the door behind him, locking it and snickering softly.

"I was gonna lose anyway.. wasn't I?"

"So smart.." The stranger, the mask you immediately recognized as Ghostface mumbled, approaching you. You whimpered the moment his fingers went for your face, caressing it slowly as his other hand reached for his mask, slowly lifting it halfway to reveal his simmering smirk.

Ghostface leaned close, lips pressing against the side of your eye, removing the tears. "I think we scared her too much.. Look at those tears."

The Ghostface behind you chuckled, pressing himself closer to effectively squish you between the two of them.

"I don't think so. She enjoyed this more than she let on, obviously." A hand released your waist to grasp your cheek, turning your face just a tad. "You got turned on by this.. didn't you? The thought of losing, the thought of us coming in here— claiming our reward and dealing out your punishment?"

You whined, unable to speak from their touches and the pressure. They took your lack of words as an answer, the Ghostface infront of you chuckling as his lips treaded down your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin just to feel you shudder. While the other slowly backed the three of you to your couch.

Soon enough your bottom hit the plush cushions, unable to fully register what was happening as your lips were suddenly taken in a full kiss. You couldn't keep up at this point, feeling hands reach for your clothes; top gone, bottoms next. The cool air brushed against your skin, quickly warmed by their touch. You felt a hand ghost down the curve of your plush stomach, pushing past the elastic of your panties— gloved fingers brushing against your warm cunt.

"Soaking my fucking glove.." One spoke, clearly not the one kissing you as his lips continued to bite marks along your skin, sinking in deeply when you attempted to close your legs. "Don't be so shy.. let me in, sweetheart."

His words were soft, nearly comforting as you felt fingers spread you, another coming to circle your swollen bud. You finally pulled away from the kiss, a whisper of a moan escaping your swollen lips. You squirmed, not fighting, but unable to control yourself due to the pleasure.

The Ghostface that had just kissed you chuckled, leaning close to press his lips against the side of your face. "Feels that good.. huh?" His hand dragged your body, reaching your thighs, a soft huff escaping the moment he realized you still had your panties on.

"You're so lazy." His words were directed to his partner, tone ranging between annoyed and amused.

The other chuckled, continuing his the slow circles upon your clit, "You want them off so bad, do it yourself." And with that he devoured your mouth in a sweet kiss, tongue intruding your lips to spread along your wet caravan, reclaiming the space.

Ghostface 1 tutted softly, hand moving away from your body to instead sift through his pocket. Your eyes slowly opened, watching as he revealed a pocket knife, flipping it open in on swift motion. You whined softly as you felt the sharp tip drag across your skin, the cold silver causing you to shiver far too harshly..

"Relax.. I would hate to knick you." He spoke, though doing one more playful drag before reaching your hip, carefully catching your panty onto the sharp edge before flicking it up— ruining them. You would have complained if it wasn't for the mouth occupying you at the moment.

Ghostface 1 tossed away the knife onto your coffee table, grabbing the ruined garments and tearing it off the rest of the way. With that, his companion used his free hand to grace the inside of your thigh, pushing it open whilst the other did the same; exposing your wet cunt.

With more access, another hand reached low, gathering your dripping essence, smoothing it between his gloved fingers. And with a single push two fingers were inserting you, reaching deep and spreading against your gummy walls.

Again you pulled away from a kiss, moaning— pitch piquing as those damned digits curled. Ghostface 2 chuckled, continuing the ministrations on your pretty bud while his lips carried down your form.

"So fucking wet.. you like this? All this attention?"

Little tears of pleasure threatened to tread down your face as your legs shook, reaching over to squeeze one of their arms— which of course, was more than welcomed. You felt a free hand knead your breast, thumb flicking and pressing into your nipple gently.

"Hey, he asked a question— or are you too fucked out already?" The first Ghostface chuckled, quickening the pace of his fingers, the squelches of your pretty pussy echoing through the room. He leaned close, nipping at your skin, scissoring you and spreading you open.

"Ye—yes!" You were finally able to muster, a band forming and wounding in your stomach as they continued. Your response was enough for them, laughter carrying between them, one even softly mocking your declaration.

"Such a fucking slut, all excited over two Ghostfaces using you up."

"Ruining you for just about anyone else.."

Your head rolled back against the couch, as blissfull sounds escaped, eyes pinched close from the pleasure. Your thighs tightened with each pass of one's finger upon your clit, and the other's thrust of their fingers. They were right, you were ruined— completely. And they had just begun to play with you.

You whimpered and whined, fingers digging into their covered arms, crying out as a hot tongue spread along your areola, dragging the swollen bud into his mouth. You were close, so, so close. That end heading towards you rapidly, stomach tightening into knots as pure gibberish fell from your pretty lips.

And all too quickly you were coming undone, moaning so loudly you were sure the neighbors could hear. For a moment your vision was blurred, the only feeling being their fingers helping your ride out your high.

"What a mess, your poor couch."

"Here, be good and clean me up." Soaked, gloved fingers were dragging across your bottom lip, coaxing your mouth open gently. With little issue your lips parted, allowing his digits to press against your tongue. You dragged your appendage across him, tasting your own arousal and bitter leather. You continued your show, gagging slightly the moment he pushed his fingers just a bit farther.

"Look at that.." Ghostface 2 mumbled, far too excited as his piercing gaze resting on you. Suddenly he was standing up, walking around your couch to stand behind you. Ghostface 1 seemed to catch onto his plan, given he was removing his fingers before grasping you a bit roughly, switching you onto your knees.

Your hands held the hard frame of your couch, breathing softly as a gentle hand grasped your chin. Your eyes carried up to the long figure infront of you, warming as his thumb wiped away the combined mess on your lips.

"Pretty girl.." He cooed, leaning down to your height to plant his lips to your own. Your eyes fluttered shut, moaning into the kiss as you felt the other behind you spread your legs wide, hand brushing across your back to make the perfect arch.

In unison you heard fabric moving before two pairs of belts were being fiddled with. This caused your heart to skip a beat, anticipation and want shuddering throughout you.

Soon enough you were being released from the kiss, eyes landing upon the one before you, watching as he tugged down his bottoms. Short tufts of fluffy white hairs lined his belly and his groin, carefully groomed. He was long, length a pretty pale, veins running along his shaft with a hot red tip.

"No way.. don't tell me you got this excited just from seeing his dick." Ghostface 1 chuckled behind you, dragging his knuckles across your snatch for a moment before gently slapping your messy cunt, the soft plap echoing throughout the room.

You gasped out, lunging forward just a bit from the sudden action. He didn't let you move much though, fingers dipping into your sides and pulling you against him, feeling his own heavy length gliding across you.

Your attention was once against moved as a hand grabbed your chin, thumb pressing against your lips and parting them. You moaned the moment his tip pressed against you, feeling his pre-cum smear across the brim. And slowly, he fed you each inch of his cock, his own groan causing you to shudder.

And what's more, just when you thought you could relax, you felt the other's tip glide across your slit before slowly pushing in, spreading you so perfectly.

As if made for them.

Ghostface 2 started first, pulling his hips back slowly before pushing them forward, filling your mouth easily. Your cheeks hallowed, jaw going slack as his slow pace started. His breath was heavy against the mask, hand rising to your hair and curling his fingers through it while his other hand gently caressed your face.

Ghostface 1 was next, hands digging to your hips as his own hips pulled back until only his tip remained inside of you. With little care he thrusted all the way back in, stifling a laugh as a surprised moan escaped you.

"Sorry, should I have warned you?" He questioned, refusing to give you even a moment to reply before his thrusts picked up, driving his cock into you with no mercy. With each push your breasts were pressing against the couch, the soft fabric stimulating you even more.

A struggled gasp escaped you as a tug came at your hair, fingers grabbing your cheeks rather roughly as the Ghostface infront of you picked up his own pace— reacting out of pure jealousy.

"Don't give him so much attention, sweetheart. Just focus on me." Ghostface 2 chuckled, speech stuttering as he continued. Your mouth felt far too good, sucking him so gently as your tongue dragged along his length. The man's head tilted back, muttering swears trying to keep control as he fucked your pretty face.

Meanwhile Ghostface 1 chuckled, leaning over your form to press his lips right against your ear. "Yet who's the one making you feel so good?" He spoke, slamming his hips, your ass rippling with each hit. You melted, so palpable as a string moans escaped you, smothered by the warm length occupying your mouth. You could barely focus, barely breath— relying only on feeling.

Your mouth being stuffed. Your cunt as well. The way you shook with their rhythmic thrusts, nearly toppling over if it wasn't for one's strong hold. How your arousal and much more trickled down your thighs, definitely dirtying your couch even further.

All of it.. so overwhelming yet, so, so good. You didn't need to think, breathe, nothing. Just kneeling there was enough, allowing the pleasure to consume you.

Tears trailed down chubby cheeks, wiped away by your second lover's tender thumb, gentle compared to how roughly he was using your mouth. Words of praise and encouragement fell from their lips, falling on deaf ears as you felt yourself grow more lost.

Far too quickly you felt your peak approaching, withering as the two pumped in and out of you without a care. You squeezed the couch underneath you, garbled moans escaped you as you spasmed; releasing all over your lover.

"Squeezing me so damn tightly.." The man behind you muttered, the sound of shuffling and something hitting the coffee table being heard. Once again a warm body was covering you, except the familar feeling of silky long hair tickled your exposed skin.

"Felt that good, huh? Can't believe you convinced us to do this— [Name]." Suguru chuckled right into your ear, head going slack as his ruts inside you continued you.

You would be embarrassed, mouth loose with excuses if it wasn't already full. Your eyes settled upon your other lover, moaning against his dick— tongue nice and flat the moment his hips stuttered.

And with a sharp groan he was painting your mouth, pulling you close to assure you didn't waste a single drop.

Suguru was last to let go, fingers digging into your hips, sure to leave marks. In one last thrust he was filling you up, shivering as he felt your walls tightened from the motion.

Satoru's hand rose, feeling at the mask for a moment before tugging it off; tossing it to the side to reveal his pretty face. His grin was far too apparent, pulling his hips back the moment he was satisfied. He watched carefully as you swallowed his mess, leaning down to kiss at your face and remark how good you were.

"You have fun?"

"Just a little." You spoke softly, ignoring the soft ache of your voice. You shivered as your dark-haired lover unsheathed himself within you, feeling him switch around to sit on the couch.

Soon enough his hands were reaching for you, pulling you to sit on his lap whilst his face rested in your neck.

"More than a little, you were practically screaming with glee when I grabbed you."

"Oh shut it.."

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