#yeah this post has been rotating in my head lately

[lyn-ne]

shoutout to this post

[adascore]

Hello! Not sure if you’re taking requests but would you consider doing an addition to TSS where young!arsenal reader was starting before Beth and Viv came back and has been benched majority of the time since (Kyra core☹️). Maybe during like the west ham game was one of the subs thrown on halfway through and after the loss made a snarky comment about “being thrown on to unfuck everything” type of thing to another teammate and Viv/beth overhear and think she’s talking about them (maybe they’re already a little insecure about losing such an “easy” game, self doubt post ACL) and things are super frosty and weird at home until one of them snaps and makes a comment about how they still wouldn’t have won even if R started. Hurt/comfort angst but with a happy ending!! Not sure if any of that strikes your fancy but I had the thought and you’re so talented:) no worries if not!!!

To Jump The Gun(ners)

pairings: arsenal x teen!reader / meadema x teen!reader / kyra cooney-cross x arsenal!reader

warnings: the west-ham match. swearing. angst. awkwardness.

author’s note: OMG LOVE THIS IDEA ! like this was right up my alley I felt like 😭 thank you so much, and I hope you enjoy the story!

masterlist

February 4, 2024 - Essex, England

It had become a routine, seeing her name and number on the bench. She took a glance at Kyra, a knowing look in her eyes.

The young Arsenal homegrown wondered where it all had gotten wrong. Well, she knew the answer, but it wasn't exactly something she could say out loud to anyone.

She was transported back to the 2022/23 season, where she would warm the bench until either Vivianne or Beth were too tired or they needed to be rested for the next match.

Their injuries had changed everything.

Y/N not only became a regular starter, but became a vital part of their game. Her absence would be noticed.

She scored the goals that got them to the semifinals of the Champions League, keeping them level with 2x champions Wolfsburg.

However, Beth and Vivianne were back now. Alessia's arrival also didn't help much, the former Manchester United player having cemented herself into the starting line-up.

It also didn't help that Jonas was not a fan of rotating. Only in specific Conti Cup matches or against what he deemed 'weaker' teams in the league would he make changes to the usual starting XI.

In other words, she was back to step 1.

That's why it was hard to watch her teammates falling 2-1 behind against West Ham, with no one seeming to find an answer or any will to turn the game around. It was a painful spectacle.

In the 63rd minute, Jonas decided to throw herself, Kyra and Cloé in the match, and take out Vivianne, Victoria and Beth. It was a desperate attempt, and the three Gunners found themselves on the pitch, tasked with the challenging mission of trying to fix everything that had gone wrong so far.

Y/N and Cloé quickly created some chances but the West Ham defense or the swift reflexes of Mackenzie Arnold saw them go in vain.

The teenager could see the expressions of her teammates on the bench, visibly frustrated with how the match had unfolded since Alessia's successful header.

Vivianne couldn't hide the discontent in her eyes as she sat with a subtle shake of her head. Her partner, sitting beside her, noticed and Beth patted her thigh, offering silent support as they continued to watch their team scramble for a late equalizer.

As the final whistle blew, the disappointment within the team was high. Y/N did her usual post-match routine, and congratulated all the West Ham players on their win, while giving and receiving solace from her own teammates.

The teen found Kyra again, someone who she had found a friendship in over the months the Australian had joined the Gunners.

''You alright?'' The midfielder asked her, a dejected tone in her voice.

Y/N nodded. ''Yeah, you?''

''Not too great, but there are worse things in life.'' Kyra responded, trying to put the loss in perspective.

''True,'' the striker agreed, ''I can't believe he keeps putting us in these positions.''

Kyra nodded. ''You think he would learn after Tottenham.'' She sighed.

''Apparently, we're not good enough to start, but when he needs us to unfuck everything that happened, then he knows who we are.'' Y/N said, her frustration evident. The unfair treatment of some players during the season lingered in the air, leaving a bitter taste after the defeat.

As the youngsters continued their conversation on their way to the locker room, Vivianne and Beth, unintentionally overhearing their discussion, exchanged puzzled glances.

''Did you hear that? 'Unfuck everything'?'' Beth repeated her housemate's words to her partner.

Vivianne's brow furrowed as she processed what was said. ''Yeah,'' the Dutchwoman breathed out, ''not very nice.'' A hint of sadness lingered in her voice. It stung that their efforts were being discussed in such terms, especially by the young girl they were living with.

They didn't say much else to one another as they strolled through the corridor.

The atmosphere in the locker room was subdued, void of any banter and entertaining chats. Most of the players were already there as the couple walked in.

Beth took a glimpse at Y/N and Kyra who still seemed in a discussion with one another, although they were whispering now.

''Girls, we're a lot better than this.'' Kim broke the ice, a neutral expression on her face.

Everyone nodded at the captain, the collective disappointment from the match was visible. ''Well, it's done, we can't change anything about it. So, everyone just do a reset, try to get some sleep or distract yourselves on the bus, and I expect everyone with fresh minds and legs at training.''

The team nodded and weakly applauded Kim's small speech.

As the team began to disperse, Y/N caught Beth's eye, offering a faint smile in greeting. However, the winger's response was noticeably strained, her usually warm demeanor replaced by a subtle tension.

"Everything okay?" The younger one ventured, her concern evident.

Beth's smile faltered slightly, her gaze flickering away before returning to meet Y/N's. "Yeah, everything's fine." She replied, though her words sounded hollow even to her own ears.

The striker's brow furrowed further, a flicker of uncertainty clouding her features. "Are you sure?" She pressed gently, not used to this awkwardness from her teammate.

"I... yeah, I'm sure." She retorted, her voice tinged with irritation.

"Okay..." Y/N trailed off, unsure of how to proceed. Sensing the dismissiveness between them, she offered a hesitant smile before turning back to where she had been talking with Lia.

As her housemate walked away, Beth's expression hardened, a pang of guilt gnawing at her conscience. She knew she shouldn't act like this towards her, but her words had really struck a nerve for some reason and it was hard to pretend it didn't.

The drive home on the bus wasn't that different, though the atmosphere was more subdued due to the loss. Y/N and Kyra were seated next to each other, Katie and Caitlin sitting on the other side of them.

''You alright, Y/N?'' Caitlin asked, noticing the youngster's quietness.

Y/N looked up, glancing away from her nails to the older Australian player. She hesitated answering, not knowing if it was appropriate to say anything about her interaction with Beth.

She sat up straight and motioned for the three of them to huddle together over the small table. They got her message and did just that.

''Did anything happen on the bench or something? Cause I had this weird exchange with Meado, and it's just stuck in my head.'' She explained, her voice hushed.

They all frowned at her words. ''No, she was just frustrated about the game, but so was everyone else.'' Caitlin responded.

''What happened?'' Katie chimed in, curious to know about this exchange.

''I don't know. She was looking at me in the locker room, and I smiled at her, but she, I don't know, just looked weird at me. I asked her if she was alright, but she was kinda distant with me? She responded a little irritated so I left her alone, but it was weird.'' Y/N gave a small summary of the interaction.

"That is strange." Kyra mused, breaking the silence that had settled over their huddle.

They nodded at her words, agreeing with the young Australian.

''I didn't notice anything.'' Caitlin said with a pout, feeling sorry she couldn't help her younger teammate out. ''Me neither, kiddo.'' Katie added, a similar expression on her face.

Y/N smiled sadly, disappointed she wasn't any wiser on Beth. Katie rubbed her arm once she noticed her dejected expression. ''Hey, I wouldn't worry about it. It's a tough loss.''

The youngster nodded at the Irishwoman's words. ''Yeah, you're right.''

Katie was not right.

As soon as she got in the car with the beloved couple it was clear that something had gone down for them to act in such a sour mood. Vivianne's knuckles were white against the steering wheel, while Beth stared out of the window, her expression unreadable.

Sensing the palpable tension, Y/N shifted uncomfortably in her seat. The youngster wanted to break the silence, but the words wouldn't come out. It felt like they were stuck in her throat.

The drive home felt like forever. Every minute made the atmosphere worse. Y/N tried to catch Vivianne or Beth's eye, hoping for some sign that things would get better, but there was nothing.

Car rides after losses were never filled with much conversation, but it had never been like this.

A wave of relief went through her as the car was parked in front of their apartment complex, longing for the comfort of her room where she could hide from whatever the situation was.

Y/N couldn't even come up with a guess on what had transpired. Did they have a fight? Did she do something? Did someone else do something?

She had absolutely no clue.

However, the tension seemed to follow them into their shared home. The silence had become even more deafening with each step they took.

Beth disappeared into her room without a word, while Vivianne headed straight for the kitchen, her movements stiff and mechanical. Y/N stood in the hallway, feeling like an outsider in her own home.

Their behaviors made her feel anxious, feeling that knot inside her stomach. What had happened during the game? What had caused them to retreat into themselves like this?

Unable to handle any of it longer, Y/N tentatively approached the Dutchwoman in the kitchen. "Um, Viv?" She began, her voice small.

Vivianne glanced up, her expression guarded. "Yeah?” She replied, accent heavy.

The younger girl hesitated, unsure of how to broach the subject. "I, uh, did, uh, something happen at the game?" She stammered, her words stumbling over each other in her haste to get everything out.

The striker's eyebrows furrowed. "What are you talking about?” She asked, her face neutral.

Her response only added to the youngest one's confusion. It seemed as though they were both dancing around a subject neither wanted to address.

"I-I just... noticed things were a bit off between everyone after the match," Y/N explained, her voice barely above a whisper, "and, well, the car ride home was... a bit weird, you know.”

Vivianne's expression softened slightly, though her guard remained up. ''Don't worry about it. Just… frustration from the game.''

But Y/N couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to it than just frustration. She wanted to press further, but the fear of causing further conflict held her back.

Instead, she offered a hesitant nod. ''Okay, good.'' She murmured to the floor, retreating back to her room with a heavy heart.

The Arsenal homegrown player pulled her phone out of her pocket, searching up Kyra's contact. It only took a few rings for the Australian to pick up, she was probably already on her phone as she was called.

''Hey.'' Her accent momentarily bringing a smile to Y/N's face.

''Hey, you're home?''

''Yeah, just arrived. What's up?''

There was a brief pause before Y/N continued. ''Things have gotten a bit weirder since, uh, on the bus.''

''Shit. What happened?'' She asked, her voice filled with genuine worry.

''It's just... the tension at home is almost suffocating," she explained, ''it was completely silent the entire time we were driving home, and when we got home, Beth immediately went to her room. I tried to ask Viv about, but she told me it was just frustrations, but it clearly is not just that.''

There was a moment of silence as Kyra processed Y/N's words. "That doesn't sound good," she finally replied, ''you really have no idea what might have happened? Maybe they had a fight or something?''

Y/N shook her head, even though her teammate couldn't see it. "No, that's the thing. I'm completely lost." She admitted, frustration lacing her words.

''Same. I wish I knew what to say to help.'' Kyra said softly.

''It's alright, Ky. Thanks for letting me ramble.'' Y/N chuckled, appreciating the opportunity to unload her worries onto her friend.

''It's fine, honestly. It must not be fun to be in this situation,'' the Matilda replied, feeling for her friend, ''if anything else happens you can always let me know, okay? I'm gonna have some dinner now.''

Y/N smiled gratefully. "Thanks, Ky. I really appreciate it.”

''Anytime. Take care, I'll see you at training.''

''You too. Bye, bye.'' They bid each other goodbye before hanging up the phone.

Y/N prepared to leave her room again, wanting to check if Vivianne had started dinner yet or not.

Just as she stepped into the hallway, she nearly collided with Beth, who was coming out of her room with a tight-lipped expression. The sudden encounter caught them both off guard.

''Shit, sorry.'' The younger one apologized first, giving her housemate an awkward glance.

''It's alright,'' Beth brushed off, ''uh, were you on the phone just now?" She asked, her brow furrowing slightly.

Y/N nodded. ''Uh, yeah, with Kyra.''

Beth's expression shifted, a flicker of something unreadable crossing her features. "Oh, Kyra." She murmured, her voice tight.

The younger girl simply stared at the winger, not knowing what to say to her words. "Is everything okay?" Y/N ventured, her voice hesitant as she searched Beth's face for any sign of what might be bothering her.

Beth's lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, she seemed lost in thought. When she finally spoke, her words were tinged with a hint of irritation. ''Everything's alright.''

Y/N offered a small, uneasy smile and nodded. "Oh, okay." She said, though her words felt hollow even to her own ears.

With a nod of acknowledgment, Beth turned to walk away. As she watched Beth disappear around the corner, she wondered if it had been something she had done. However, she couldn't recall saying or doing anything that day that would have provoked this kind of demeanor from the couple.

The young striker walked into the living room, noticing Vivianne bustling about in the kitchen. But what caught Y/N's attention was the hushed whispers exchanged between the couple, Beth and Vivianne not being subtle about their gossiping.

A sense of discomfort washed over the youngster as she hesitated in the doorway, unsure whether to interrupt or retreat unnoticed. But before she could make a decision, the Dutchwoman glanced up and caught her eye, her expression inscrutable.

''Hey, dinner is almost ready. Just some leftover pasta from yesterday.'' She informed Y/N, her tone somewhat forced as she attempted to maintain a facade of normalcy.

Y/N forced a smile. ''Nice, thanks, Viv.'' She answered, trying to ignore the awkwardness that hung in the air.

She retreated to the couch, feeling as if she wasn't welcome in the small space. Something was off, and she couldn't help but feel like she was on the outside looking in.

She scrolled on her phone for a few minutes before Vivianne called her to the table as the food was ready. As they gathered around the dinner table, the atmosphere remained strained, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.

Vivianne served up the leftover pasta, her movements brisk as she avoided making eye contact with anyone. Beth sat across from Y/N, her expression unreadable as she picked at her food.

Y/N tried to focus on her food, but the uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach made it difficult to swallow.

For a few moments, the only sound was the clinking of forks against plates, the silence punctuated only by the occasional awkward cough or clearing of throat.

Finally, unable to bear the tension any longer, Y/N opened her mouth. "So, um, what did you guys think about the match?'' She asked the pair, her voice coming out more high than she had intended.

As if on cue, Vivianne and Beth glanced up from their plates at the same time.

''It was tough, but it shouldn't have been tough. We lacked a clear tactic.'' The experienced striker answered, filling up the silence.

Y/N nodded, relieved at least one of them responded to her attempt at conversation. She took a peek at Beth, who did not seem amused in the slightest to talk about the surprising defeat earlier that day.

''It was just another match of us fucking everything up, and you kids having to unfuck it all.'' Beth said, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

The youngest's eyes widened slightly at the cutting remark, not expecting those words to come out of the Brit's mouth.

Vivianne shifted uncomfortably in her seat, casting a quick glance at Y/N before fixing her gaze on her partner. "Beth, that's enough.'' Her voice was stern, warning Beth that this was not the way to go about this.

But Beth ignored her girlfriend, her eyes fixed on Y/N with an intensity that made her squirm. ''No, she needs to learn to not talk about teammates that way, especially the ones that have just gotten back from serious injuries, and need time to reintegrate into the group.''

Y/N felt a flush of embarrassment creeping up her neck, she cast a desperate look at Vivianne, silently pleading for her to intervene and diffuse the situation before it escalated any further.

''Beth, I wasn't-''

''You weren't what? You weren't talking shit to Kyra about us right after the match? You weren't talking shit about us to Kyra on the phone just now?'' The oldest continued in an accusing tone.

Vivianne let out a sigh, her frustration evident as she attempted to defuse the situation. ''Beth.'' She said firmly, her gaze shifting between the two other people at the table.

''I wasn't talking shit about you guys. I would never do that.'' Y/N managed to let out, offended at the mere idea of her not appreciating the two women who'd let her move in with them a 1,5 years ago.

''Y/N, we heard you. On the pitch after the match, with Kyra.'' Beth responded bluntly.

Y/N swallowed hard, slightly ashamed of being caught. ''We were just... we were just frustrated, okay? That comment wasn't directed at any of you guys, it was more at Jonas, to be fair.''

The couple grew silent at the admission, realizing they had greatly misunderstood the two young girls' conversation. ''About Jonas?'' Vivianne repeated, her voice carrying a note of embarrassment.

The young striker nodded. ''Yeah, me and Kyra have just been a bit upset with our game time, that's all. It felt like a repeat of the Tottenham game.''

Beth and Vivianne exchanged a glance, coming to a silent understanding. ''We're sorry for jumping the gun on that one, darling. We really thought we needed to teach you some manners.'' The Brit nervously apologized with a chuckle.

''It's alright, we probably should've been a bit more discreet.'' Y/N brushed her apology off with a hand gesture.

''No, you two are in your full right to complain.'' Vivianne retorted, agreeing on the playing time matter.

The teenager waited a few moments before elaborating. ''I don't mind sitting on the bench, it's great to get rest, you know? But it almost feels like he doesn't trust me to get the game starting or something. I like to think I did great last season, so this kind of sucks.'' She opened up, not having voiced these thoughts to anyone but Kyra.

''You did amazing last season, you stepped up when we needed someone and the team will never forget that.'' Beth smiled, squeezing the youngster' s hand.

''It seems that Jonas forgot.'' Y/N muttered bitterly, looking down at her empty plate.

The couple silenced themselves at her mumbled words, not knowing what the appropriate response would be to cheer her up about the situation. They were indirectly responsible for the young girl to not get as much game time anymore, so whatever they would tell her, she would most likely not feel much better afterwards.

''Just focus on what you're doing right now. Show up to training, recover well, maximize everything in the minutes you do get. Show him that he should trust you to start, and that you deserve to have that spot in the line-up.'' Vivianne chimed in, her voice soft but resolute.

Y/N nodded at the older woman's words, though her demeanor still seemed dejected. ''Yeah, I'll continue to do that.'' It came out somewhat passive aggressive.

''I know it doesn't fix the situation, but you're my personal star girl, regardless whether you play or not.'' Beth softly smiled at her.

The teen managed to crack a small smile back, appreciating the sentiment. ''Thanks, Beth.''

''You're mine too.'' Vivianne added.

''Hey, that's my compliment for her! Find another one if you want to be cute!'' Beth scolded her partner, dramatically feigning annoyance.

The Dutchwoman frowned. ''Everyone calls her ‘star girl'! You're not original either!'' She pouted back.

Y/N couldn't help but let out a chuckle at the banter between the couple, happily accepting the momentary distraction from her frustrations.

Beth playfully rolled her eyes. ''At least I'm complimenting her!''

''Sorry that I was just giving useful advice, Bethany.'' Vivianne retorted.

''Useful.'' The Brit repeated, her voice heavily tinged with sarcasm.

Vivianne's mouth gaped, pretending to be offended. ''It was useful! That's what I would have wanted to hear at 19 year-old.'' She defended herself.

''19 year-old's want to hear praise, Viv. They want to be called star girls, not receive a lecture.'' Beth quickly replied, with a smirk.

''Y/N, it was useful, right?'' The older striker turned towards the teenager.

''Yeah, Y/N, tell Miss Miedema how useful her advice was.'' Beth chorused her words, grinning from ear-to-ear.

The youngster simply glanced between the two of them, before picking up her empty plate and standing up from her seat. ''I'm taking this as my sign to leave.''

She ignored their pleas with a satisfied grin, making her way to the kitchen to dump her plate, and walking back to her room.

The couple watched her depart, sharing a knowing look, a hint of amusement dancing in their eyes. ''She's gonna call Kyra, isn't she?'' Vivianne chuckled.

''She so is.'' Beth agreed with a laugh.

requests are always welcome!

[shadowsndaisies]

dogfighting 101: 04 - 'nix is sick of this shit

wc: 595

synopsis: phoenix prides herself on knowing almost everything pertinent, it's the parts she doesn't know that leaves her on edge.

main masterlist

athena-verse master post

a/n: the support with this universe has been incredible, thank you all so much, i really enjoy being able to write shorter pieces as an outlet while working on my 10k an update longer series. (ps: taglist is still open!)

“Okay. What the hell is going on?” Natasha's voice is firm.

Bob to his credit seems a little anxious from where he's stood a few feet behind her. He's obviously trying to respect your privacy, but something tells you he's also there to be a witness for whatever this confrontation was about.

“You're going to have to specify Phoenix,” you tell her flatly.

You were sat on a bench in the locker room, redoing your hair before your next run. You’d needed a moment to splash some water on your face and refocus. Bob and ‘Nix were still in their gear as well, they were next on the rotation.

“Where do I even start? You and Rooster? Him and Maverick? How about Harvard and Yale’s attitude too?” she huffs and you meet her gaze challengingly.

“Don’t worry about it,” is all you offer in response.

Natasha lets out a groan, and Bob winces. “Well it's too late for that!” she huffs, very clearly annoyed.

“Leave it alone, ‘Nix,” you tell her, tone serious.

“No! I have never heard you shout at someone like that, especially not while in the air! Honestly, I’ve never heard Rooster get that wound up either! What the fuck is going on?”

“Seriously, Nat, just drop it,” you tell her, shaking your head.

“I can't! I won’t! I’m going on this mission Athena, you know it and I know it. I don't know why Hangman only ever listens to you, or why he leaves every one else out to dry, but I do not want him leading that team. I need it to be you and Rooster. But if you and Rooster can't fucking get along we're all screwed.”

You frown at her and you understand where she's coming from, but part of you can’t help but stay closed off, especially about this. “Nat, we don't have the time, and honestly… honestly it’s none of your business,” you say voice firm.

The look in her eye turns hard, but you stand your ground. You’d always been able to give it to each other straight, calling the other out when necessary, and drawing hard lines when needed. This was one of those times.

“This isn’t like you, and it’s not like Rooster and there’s something going on that you’re both ignoring,” she decides.

There’s a lot we’re ignoring, you want to say. “Let it go, Trace. Final warning,” you say instead, you’re honestly not entirely sure what will happen if she keeps pushing, you’re not sure you want to see who would win in a battle of wills between the two of you, you know you both will get hurt in the process.

She seems to have the same realization because instead of pushing further, she lets out another groan, “This isn’t over!” she shouts as she stomps off, a bashful Bob in tow.

“I would never dream,” you mutter sarcastically after her, tucking your hair back up, and then heading back to the waiting room.

You want to say the cold water and redoing your hair helped, but you feel just as exhausted as you did after stalking off the tarmac leaving Bradley behind. You see him when you walk in, and his eyes focus on you. Your lips tug down and you turn looking for your next partner.

You spot Fritz still waiting by your gear, and you offer a tense smile as you pick up your vest and sling it back on.

“Ready?” he asks.

“Yeah, let’s hit it,” you confirm, before following him back down to the tarmac.

...

everything: @butterfly-skinnylegend

athena’s tags: @omgbrianab @smoothdogsgirl @bazellawriz @sbrewer21 @inky-sun @djs8891 @rory-cakes @geeksareunique @je6291 @kee-0-kee @fanreader75 @whoismurphyslaw @samanddeaninatrenchcoat

[ladylooch]

Bones - Part 1 [Mack x David]

A/N: It's here!!!! It's finally, finally here!!!!!! I am so excited and proud to start posting Mack and David's series. I cannot put into words how much fun it is for me as a writer to bring these two to life. We have over 20 chapters in the works for these two.

The series officially begins after this part: How Country Feels

Word Count: 3.8k

“Fuck.” Mack mutters in Swiss German as she whips her fresh shirt over her head. She looks down at the toilet paper holder in the stall that holds her buzzing iPhone. She grabs it as the picture of her and her older sister disappears. Mack stabs at the phone button, then taps her name, calling her back.

“Hey!” Her older sister answers brightly. “Are you in a cab yet?”

“No. My flight was late.”

“Oh shoot.” Lucie trials off. “Okay, well we will see you soon?”

“Yep.” Mack tries to be nice, but she hates being late and her sister’s unnecessary phone call grates at her worn nerves. 

“Give me the phone.” Mack hears her boyfriend come over the line suddenly. “Honey?”

“Yes, babe?”

“We will see you when you get here.” Mack stops stuffing her plane shirt into her backpack. She grins, biting her bottom lip. “Travel safe, eh?”

“Thank you. I can’t wait to see you.” 

“Miss you something bad pretty girl. Hurry. I’ll hold Lucie’s phone until you get here so she quits calling.”

“I’m worried about her!” Lucie insists. “And I miss her too! I miss you, Mackie.”

Mack chuckles, realizing her sister sounds about two glasses of wine deep into the annual welcome back party with the Rangers. She wishes she was glasses deep into alcohol too. With that, she resumes stuffing her shirt into her bag.

“I’m hanging up now. I’ll see you soon.” Mack reiterates. David bids her another goodbye, then they both click off.

Mack flies out of the stall, rushing through washing her hands then hoofing it to the ground transportation area. Luckily there are cabs awaiting. She pops in one then gives the address of a building she’s never been to by David’s apartment. Connor and Lucie arranged the party for the team the last few years, but have been rotating it around different event venues in their neighborhood. Their condo isn’t big enough to house everyone, plus a catering staff for all the food and drink options. The team has expanded a lot the last two years with most of the guys having significant others now.

Mack nibbles on her bottom lip as the cab maneuvers out of the airport. She doesn’t know why she is so nervous about this party. It’s been keeping her up the last few nights, making it difficult to sleep along with the broken air conditioner in her hotel room. She rubs under her eyes, collecting a dusting of black that had smudged off during her in-flight nap. 

If Mack has to pinpoint it, she is worried about meeting all these people as David’s girlfriend for the first time. Some of the girls know her as Lucie’s sister, but this is different. She knows from Lucie that David has been a hot commodity for the girls to set their friends up with. David has always politely declined, but Mack can’t shake the sense that she is walking into a blinding spotlight of scrutiny. 

As the car crosses into the correct neighborhood, Mack’s phone buzzes in her hand. She looks down at a text from David. 

You here yet 😉

Yeah, you don’t see me?, she teases back.

Her leg begins to bounce as she turns her attention back to the city buildings passing on her left. Mack is a little nervous about seeing David again. They have been talking every day since they both left Iowa, but spending so much time apart makes her worry. What if he’s lost interest? Or what if the chemistry that has been building evaporated with the warm summer heat?

All those what ifs vanish as they turn the corner on the street for the restaurant. Outside, in a blue and grey flannel is David Carlson. His hands are tucked into his dark jeans, brown boots planted firmly on the sidewalk. His hair is cut into a fade with longer, tousled strands on top of his head. His eyes watch every cab that slows, looking into the back for her. She grins as its her cab’s turn. His grin magnifies the night and he pulls the door handle open before the car even stops. He leans in, kissing her deeply, long mustache tickling her nose. The sensation is welcomed and reminds Mack of home. Her hands go to his big shoulders as he reaches into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet. He takes out some dollar bills then hands them to the cabbie.

“Thanks, man.” David murmurs, then wraps Mack into his arms to pull her out.

“I can walk.” She reminds him.

“For now.” He smirks, then leans in for her bags. He shuts the door then swings her bags over his shoulder in one hand. The other weaves around her lower back, guiding her into his body. “You look so good.” He can barely keep his smile off his lips long enough to kiss her again. Mack’s eyes drift closed. What was she worried about? “You ready?”

“Mhm.” She acknowledges. He slides his free hand into hers, leading her to the door. 

Mack follows David through the restaurant to a separate event space. Her eyes skim the restaurant, noticing the attention he demands because of his tall, big body, and gorgeous features. He oozes confidence and assurance. They turn down a hallway and David stops, nudging Mack into the brick wall. The stone is cool on her back as David gives her a searing kiss. Her fingers trail up his shoulders to rub at the freshly cut hairs of his face. 

“Wanna blow this damn party off, but your sister will throw a fit.” He mumbles. His lips pucker on her mouth, then begin to kiss her jaw bone. 

“I know. I want you so bad.” She sighs, turning to nibble at his ear lobe. Having him inside her is about the only worthy thought that crossed Mack’s mind on her trip home.

David lifts his head, scanning the hallway. He sees a door, trying the handle to find it unlocked. Inside is relatively empty except a few plastic cups and table linens. He tugs Mack inside then shuts the door behind them. Mack grins, collecting him into her arms as he lifts her up, pinning her against the cool, black metal. 

“You wanna?” He checks in with her, pulling away to see her face.

“Yeah. Bad.” She nods as she says it, breasts heaving with heavy breaths. 

“That’s my girl.” He bites her bottom lip, then puts her feet back down. Together, they work off one another’s jeans. Mack is only able to step one foot out before David is hoisting her back up. In his mouth is a condom, she takes it from him, then maneuvers her hands to his cock, rubbing the latex down. David takes his shaft in his hand when she is done, balancing her weight with the door. He fists himself, dragging his swollen head through her slick folds, then posies at her entrance. Mack sinks herself down, pressing her hips until she swallows him fully. 

The stretch is divine. Not painful or intrusive, just full enough to have her buzzing. She bucks her hips, making the door rattle behind her. 

“Fuck.” She whines when he pulls out then thrusts back in fully. “Yeah, that the whole time, babe.” 

Without a word, David continues, his lips drink hers up, unable to drift long away from hers like a magnet connects them. His strong hips pump fully into her, increasing the tempo the more she moans. Her pussy grips him like a vice, collapsing with each deep thrust into her. David pulls away from her mouth as Mack begins to shake in his arms. He tightens his grip on her thighs, finger prints transferring into her tanned skin. 

“Look at me.” He gruffly demands, face hovering over hers. Mack’s eyes open. “Watch me while you come. Want you to see what it does to me.” Mack whimpers, eyes wanting to roll back, but she forces them open. Her face scrunches, she inhales deeply through her nose, eyelashes fluttering as her orgasm grips her then rips her off the cliff. 

Mack watches David like he demands, seeing his pupils explode in his green eyes. His jaw ticks as he clenches his teeth together. A groan expands his throat and his red, puffy lips fold together until the color bleeds away from the pressure.

“Fuck.” He collapses forward into his orgasm, his hips press up into her, chasing deep into her core with his last few jerky presses. Mack drifts her hand down to his ass, feeling the powerful muscles turn to stone with his rocks into her. 

“Mmm, wow. Yeah. Really, really missed that.” She drags her nose across the soft flannel on his shoulder. David’s head falls to the crook of her neck, cheek feeling slightly damp against her bare skin there. Her finger nails scrape at his scalp, lips plumping into his temple every few seconds. 

“It’s wild the things you make me do, Mack.” Her cheeks spread wide as he pulls back. He looks drunk from his afterglow. His lips pucker. She leans forward, squeezing his cock in her as he does. “Ugh.” He groans blissfully. “We are making this the shortest party ever.” He says it without room for her input. “Gotta get you back in my bed.” 

“Can we go to my place?”

“Yeah. I stopped by earlier. Your plants are still alive and there are fresh condoms in the bedside table. We are set.”

“The essentials, plants and condoms.” Mack giggles as David pulls out of her. He takes the condom off and ties it off, then helps her pull her pants and underwear back up. After, he tucks himself into his jeans and closes them up. 

Mack steps to the side as David pokes his head out, looking both ways down the hallway. A giggly bubble fills up Mack’s chest as he reaches his hand back for her to take. With her bags slung over his shoulder, he leads Mack back out of the closet. 

They almost make it the whole way out before Connor Wood exits the event space, catching them. Mack purses her lips, closing her eyes for what she knows is coming. 

“You two fuck in that closet?” Connor smirks so wide it may as well be grin. David laughs. Mack punches at his kidney lightly.

“David!”

“It’s pretty obvious, honey. No need to lie to Woody.” 

“Welcome home, Mackie.” Connor says, holding the glass door open to the event space for her. 

“Go in. I’ll be right there.” David says from behind her.

“You guys were safe. We love to see it.”

“Yeah, we don’t need another unplanned pregnancy.”

“You need a new joke.” Connor gruff at Mack, stepping in after she walks through the doorway.

“Why? That one’s still funny.” 

“Is it?” He tilts his head at her, nose scrunched up in annoyance.

Mack’s reply is cut off by a screaming Lucie. She brings all her bubbly, happy captain’s wife energy and attention over to her younger sister. Mack opens her arms, then all the air whooshes out of her lungs with how hard Lucie runs into her. Lucie doesn’t seem to notice as she wraps herself around Mack’s shoulders, swaying her harshly left and right then straight up shaking her.

“Mackie!!!!!!!! I’m so happy you’re home!!!!!!” Mack looks over Lucie’s shoulders at the curious group of onlookers. The entire team watches them in a casual way. A few of the girls Mack recognizes from last season wave in a greeting. Mack smiles back. “Mmm, I love you. But I hate how tan you are.”

“Next time you should come with me.”

“I will.” Lucie nods, then takes her wine glass back from Connor. “I am going to get you some of this wine. It is so. Good. SO good!” Lucie claps. “Come with me. I have things for you!”

Mack glances over her shoulder, seeing David come in eases her nerves before she follows her sister over to a table decked out in Red, White, and Blue. She zeroes in on a heavy duty, clear bag with Carlson and the number 14 stitched into it.

“So I got these bags for the arena.” Lucie starts off. “Then we have a phone case, and a lanyard for our passes. Then I found this adorable little shop at the farmer’s market that made us all necklaces with the boys numbers and then engraved their last names onto them too. Look!” She points to the one she is wearing. It’s gold and dainty with Wood etched into the bottom of the 2 of his number, 23. 

“Oh I like it.” Mack nods. 

“Yes. Oh we should get yours out. It would look so good with your outfit.” Lucie rummages through Mack’s bag, pulling out the velvet blue bag. She reaches her fingers in, then twirls her finger for Mack to turn. She does, gathering her hair into one hand as Lucie clasps it together. Mack brings her fingers up to touch the cool metal. “Oof, you should take a peek at how that man is staring at you right now.” Lucie murmurs. “It’s steamy in here.” Mack looks over her shoulder at her boyfriend. His green eyes blaze with clear desire as he nurses a new beer. He brings the bottle to his lips, smirking at her before taking a long pull. “Careful, Mack. You’re looking at him like you love him.”

Mack rolls her eyes.

“Show me what else is in here.” She changes the subject.

Mack and Lucie continue to go through the bag until another woman comes up with a separate bag. Mack recognizes her as Melinda. Her husband is a veteran center. 

“I’m so glad there is finally another girl to share all this stuff with. Lucie, your sister is stunning. Like, wow. You just got off a plane and you’re this gorgeous?”

“Never underestimate a sink shower in the bathroom.” Melinda laughs.

“Oh and she’s funny! No wonder she snagged David.” Her thin eyebrows raise, then she leans closer to Mack and whispers. “Good for you.” Her gaze is pointed, lips pursed as she nods in appreciation. Mack’s mouth drops slightly open when she catches on, then red steaks up her neck and cheeks.

The attention moves from David’s eggplant size to the contents of her bag. Melinda has a dozen different t-shirts and sweatshirt with David’s number on them. 

“We used to order for every boy’s number regardless of if they had someone or not. For so long all the boys were single and we got a better deal by ordering extra than just ordering what we needed. So take whatever you want, if it doesn’t fit just get rid of it.” 

Mack’s eyes widen at the amount of stuff laid out in front of her. 

“This was my favorite shirt.” Melinda points to the gorgeous blue crew neck. The Rangers logo rests on the left part of the chest, then the number 14 is sticked into the sleeve on the right like a dainty tattoo.

“I loved this one but it got ruined when Stella was sick once.” Lucie pouts. 

“We should do something similar for playoffs.” Melinda suggests to Lucie.

“Yes! Oh I love that! Something we can wear for away games to save our jackets for home?”

Mack looks between the two women, then drops her gaze back to the pile of clothes. She should feel grateful, but instead an overwhelmed wave crashes down on her as she takes in everything with David’s name and number on it. 

“Are we giving Mack presents?!” Another girl asks, reaching for a similar black bag to Melinda’s. “I have tons of jewelry and stickers and water bottles.” Then she pulls out a replica jersey mug with David’s number and last name on it. “Truthfully, I got this last year hoping he would date my friend Holly…” She trails off. “But she turned into a backstabbing bitch so I’m glad that didn’t work out. I’m Jade.”

What the…? Mack smiles politely, then shakes Jade’s hand. A silent look passes between the two Hischier sisters. Ah, that Jade. The one the other wags groan when she shows up every year still with her boyfriend, Tucker.

Lucie begins folding up all of Mack’s items, trying to fit them in the WAG issued bag for this year. It won’t all fit, so then they load up Melinda’s bag with Mack promising to bring it back to her at the next team outing. 

“Don’t worry about it.” Melinda waves her off as David comes up behind Mack. His hand grounds her as it slides into the back pocket of her jeans.

“What is all of this? Y’all are gonna have her running back to the Caribbean if you don’t quit giving her shit.”

“Yeah, that’s gonna make her run.” Melinda jokes. “Not those white sandy beaches and turquoise waters. Oh! Mack! We have to pick your brain for the Allstar trip this year. We need ideas. Tulum is tired and boring.” 

“Oh yeah. It’s better to go to Cabo these days.” Mack agrees. “It depends on what we want to do there?”

“Drink and fuck.” Jade fills in for Mack.

“Damn…” David snorts. 

“Ah, okay.” Mack chuckles. “I can put together a list.”

“David, you have a good one. Don’t fuck this up.”

Mack doesn’t need anyone on this team’s approval, but damn if it doesn’t make her chest swell with pride at how well this is going. Mack and David mingle together for the rest of the party, which admittedly isn’t long. She tries to hide it, but David can see how tired she is. Her blinks start to slow down and she may have closed her eyes until her head bobbed when they were talking with a new rookie on the team from Austria. He played for SC Bern in the Swiss league before signing his rookie contract with the team. He switched to Swiss German with her and although she is used to this dialect from her dad, her tired brain is having trouble switching from English back to her native tongue.

“Okaaaay.” David chuckles, wrapping an arm around her back. She crashes into him, off balance, then nuzzles into his chest immediately. “Time to get you home.” He murmurs to her hair, kissing her afterwards. Mack nods limply. 

David collects all her bags, the ones she came here with and was gifted during the event. Mack quietly says her goodbyes to her sister and brother-in-law, then David is guiding her to the parking lot where his SUV waits. He opens her door for her, then places her bags into the trunk. Mack kicks off her boots, curling her legs up in her seat. Her cheek rests on the headrest, facing David. His big hand comes to her face, rubbing at her cheek bone with his thumb. Tiredly, Mack opens her eyes. 

“I’m so glad you’re home, honey. Can’t even tell ya how much I missed ya.”

Mack doesn’t respond, but she grabs his hand from her face, folding it into hers so she can hold his hand the whole drive to her apartment. 

Ron beams excitedly when he sees her and David walk through the apartment lobby from the underground garage. 

“Well if it isn’t the perfect couple!” He exclaims. “Welcome home, Ms. Hischier.”

“Thanks, Ron.” Mack mumbles, waving to him around David’s big body. “He is so nice.” Mack sighs, leaning into David’s chest in the elevator. “Do you need help with any of that?” She looks down, seeing David gripping the four bags in one hand.

“No.” He assures her. His lips brush her forehead. She tilts her face back, presenting her puckered lips. She sways slightly into him as the elevator stops at her floor. “Gotta get you to bed, sleepy.”

“ ‘M crashing.” She mumbles then yawns hugely.

David leads her down to her place, then removes his hand from her to search for her keys. 

“In my jacket.” She murmurs, lifting her arm so he can reach into her pocket.

“Thank you.” He politely responds, then flips her lock. He opens the door for her and they step through the threshold together. 

Mack starts to make a beeline for the couch.

“Baby, baby, no. Just go to bed.”

“No. Too far!” She wails, then collapses onto the couch face first. David chuckles, dropping her bags off to the side of her entry way. He kicks his shoes off, then flips the double locks on her door. Mack smiles to herself. He’s staying. Good. She hoped she wouldn’t have to ask. 

One of his hands slides under her, flipping her to her back so he can collect her into his arms. Mack hugs herself to his chest with her arms around his neck. She nuzzles her nose into the dip of his neck where it meets his chest. Her lips kiss there. 

“I’m leaving again this weekend.” Mack says quietly. She’s known this since before she came home, but has been worried to tell him. 

“Okay, honey.” There is no anger or disappointment in his voice, only a kindness that Mack leans into. 

“Thank you for understanding.” She says as he sets her on her bed.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t know. I know it’s hard to be apart.”

“I’m also leaving next week. Not fair for me to get upset over that if I’m doing the same thing.”

“Yeah.” She answers. He gets it. And her. There isn’t anything more to discuss, but Mack couldn’t if there was anyway. She’s so tired. 

David holds up two pajama options to her. She picks the lighter set, knowing her personal furnace is gonna keep her warm enough under that comforter. Mack struggles out of her clothes, then allows David to help her step into her sleep shorts. Before he puts her t-shirt over her head, he kisses across her breasts until her nipples tighten into pointed peaks. 

“Like the look of that.” He grins, then puts the hole of her shirt over her head. “Gonna have to have you a lot before we leave each other again. Wanna memorize those nipples.”

Mack smirks. He pulls the covers back for her to climb under, then he strips himself bare. Mack notices his thickened cock bobbing as he kicks his pants off. She wishes she had the energy to take him into her mouth and suck him off. Sensing her struggle with her competing needs, David cups her chin to kiss her fully.

“No need to force it, honey. We got plenty more nights just like this together.” He reminds her. 

His big body climbs in under her feminine, white comforter. Mack yawns, letting David collects her in his arms. She curls into him like a cat into a warm, sunny spot in the winter. His fingers play with her hair, then trail a path down her arm to her wrist. He repeats the motion continuously.

Mack falls asleep missing him even though he’s right there in her arms.

She knows Lucie was right tonight.

She’s in entirely new territory.

Love.

Read more Mack and David here.

[alienaiver]

Rotisserie Chicken

Suna Rintarou x gn!reader

warnings: none! this is pure fluff wordcount: 1.2k content: fluff, SFW, genderneutral reader, bodypositive and poc friendly reader, domestic fluff, established relationship, post-timeskip, canon compliant, not beta'd, youre married and pretty handy in regards to like. building stuff LMAO, light humor and banter, no use of y/n, i googled rotisserie chicken a thousand times to make sure i spelled it correctly. it looks wrong no matter what i do

notes: this is part four of my domestic life with suna series! i should really make a masterpost actually. anyways, your 10 year old bed that you lovingly bought together at the start of the relationship is creaking; you fix it. suna has his thoughts and secrets are uncovered!

go to part 1, 2, 3 (but can be read as a stand-alone)

Suna walks into your bedroom with a cold bottle of tea in his hand and his phone in the other, eyeing you for only a moment before throwing himself onto the recliner in the corner. You’ve been forced to take PTO days before they expire and so the recliner, dubbed the Laundry Chair, is actually available to sit on. Suna doesn’t hesitate.

Silently, he lifts his phone to stare into the screen again, making a point out of not commenting on your work. Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees you popping up from behind the bed frame to see if he’s looking at you. When he isn’t, you pop back down and fiddle with the screws. Profanities have been said because your small power drill hasn’t been charged over night like you planned yesterday (you forgot to turn on the outlet itself before joining Suna on the couch for a late night Netflix evening).

He knows that you’re hoping for an offer of his drink but he’s as stubborn as you are; you’re fully capable of asking, he reasons. You grumble out some more words before you turn to the next screw. He bites the bullet, “why, oh, why has the mattress been lifted from my perfectly functioning bed?”

The way your head rises up and your smile beaming has him rolling his eyes already, “I’m just tightening the screws. The creaking is making me insane.”

“Oh?” he says, unscrewing his bottle, “I find the clown bicycle honks kinda hot when you do your half-hourly rotating.”

You narrow your eyes but before you can speak he continues, “I wonder who would’ve been correct in saying that IKEA furniture that’s been disassembled before is shit. Who could’ve saved us the trouble?” He looks to the ceiling and around the room before his eyes lands directly on yours, “that’s right. Me.” he says dryly, challenging you with a raised eyebrow.

You snort before you turn back to your task at hand, the mattress balanced hazardously up against the walk-in closet that’s currently half-open. Not a dangerous thing at all, no, he observes to himself.

After a moment of silence you forego his scolding and ask, “what the hell do you mean half-hourly rotating? Who does that?”

He scrolls social media as he chuckles, "you. You do that. Like a little rotisserie chicken but instead it’s all natural, no electrical wires needed.”

The wide stare you give him is enough to make him crack a smile, eyes still theatrically trained on his screen. “Is that why I’m called rotisserie chicken on your fucking phone!?”

Bingo. Suna sits up straighter with as neutral a smile as possible, stretching his arms above him, “of course. Everyone knows I call you that.”

“Everyone!?” you shriek, completely forgetting about the screws that urgently needed tightening only a few short minutes ago. Suna groans from the stretch, “yeah, my boss ate it up.”

“Your boss? Who, the trainer? The physiotherapist?” you ask with a laugh spilling from your mouth; unbelieving but at the same time awed that Suna talks to someone about you. Those are useless details to share.

“No, the bald guy who sponsors the team. The one who loves hugging you when you stop by practice and matches.”

You make a grimace at the memory. He’s truly a kind, middle-aged man but he is very touchy-feel and while you don’t mind a hug once in a while even from acquaintances, it is shrewd how many he tries to squeeze in there. Then, you shake your head at your husband, “you’re unbelievable you know that, right?”

You pretend to throw the screwdriver in his direction and he mock-dodges to the left and wipes his brow in relief when he successfully avoids the sharp object, “what is unbelievable is the fact that we brought the bed from our first apartment to our house. I feel like we deserve something to go with the rest.”

You grunt as you reach a screw that no matter how much you tighten it, it seems to go loose. You realize it’s not even the same as the others on this metal… thingy. “Rin…” you say and it sounds like a warning. Suna’s muscles tightens for a moment, “why is this screw different from the rest?”

he gulps loudly. He’d forgotten about it; spent so long hoping you’d never notice (or that the bed wouldn’t fall apart underneath you) that it disappeared into the back of his mind. He gets up to take a look as if he can’t imagine the exact screw you’re fiddling with.

“Oh, that one,” he tries to say breezily, hoping casual will be the correct path to take. You look up at him when you realize that he knows something; he shoots a picture of you instead before he continues, “uh, we couldn’t find the screw so Atsumu just put that one in, saying it was the right girth.”

Your eyebrows shoot to your forehead in such a speed that Suna’s sad he didn’t capture it on video, spluttering out incomprehensible sounds that might’ve been words, accidentally spitting on the floor in your vigor. Probably something about different screws having different purposes. Then, you close your eyes and take a deep breath, “and why didn’t you just call for me? I was right downstairs when you and Osamu assembled the bed! Why did Atsumu suddenly help you?”

Suna avoids your gaze by looking pointedly out the window; snow was falling and staying. Winter would be cold this year.

“Suna Rintarou,” you say sharply and a shiver runs up his spine. You enjoy seeing the reaction. He deflates, “you were sitting with my nephew who’d gotten hurt. I didn’t want to… I didn’t want to disturb you.”

You warm at his confession. His nephew had gotten hurt, running around as family and friends were carrying furniture and boxes into the newly bought house; a box he’d been curious about had fallen over him. All it needed was a kiss and a band-aid and he’d been fine, but you had sat with him and sang until he calmed down. You even think you scolded the box together with him.

You shake your head, “well I guess this screw has been holding out. We’ll just continue using it then.”

Suna rolls his eyes, “why don’t we just buy a new bed?” the question makes you laugh, “we have one that works perfectly fine, don’t we? We even upgraded the mattress when you first got on the National team!”

Suna rolls his eyes, “next time the clown bike’s back, I’m buying us a new bed.”

You give him a thumbs up before you crawl out from the frame, “yeah, yeah. Now put the mattress back with me, will you?”

“Sure, Tjiken.” he says with a sly smile. It’s the nickname his niece once started calling you out of nowhere. Your eyes widen and mouth drops open in an ‘o’ shape as you realize.

“Is my cute, familial nickname a child abbreviation of the word chicken!?”

He can’t tell if you find it funny that his whole family’s calling you chicken, or if you’re slightly horrified. Personally, he’s amused that you’re finally learning the truth that’s been common knowledge among his family members.

He can’t wait to start his own family with you someday, hopefully soon. Then, he’d find an equally silly name and teach your child to call you that. His eyes twinkle with excitement at the thought that you might do it back, too.

[lonely-shine]

Okay, so. I have a very stupid dilemma and I'm about to annoy you all with it because I can.

So, lately I've been thinking of turning Ebis and Marcus, my Submachine OCs, into wholly original characters. That is, divorcing them from the fandom and giving them their own original story/universe. Sounds good enough, right?

Okay, problem: I really love the journey that I already wrote for Ebis and Marcus for the fanfic and would like to preserve it as is as much as possible, which I don't know if I can do without basically plagiarizing Submachine.

Like, I do need to have a bunch of scientists exploring a weird ass, dangerous place that has a lot of weird space-time shenanigans about it. Which means I could simply turn this into a space exploration story and immediately draw some distance from Submachine with the setting... Except I very much do not want to write a space exploration story for these characters.

Nothing wrong about space exploration, but what I'm craving for this is something way more obscure and weird. And I kinda need it to be about a world that is not really (just) a world but (also) a creature. (Oh, the fun I could have with this, I'm telling you).

Thing is, I'm worried about this being/turning too similar to Submachine. Like, the reason I want to (potentially) do this is because I want to do something different and explore stuff in my own way, but I am very aware that Submachine is currently my main source of inspiration, so yeah.

(also, to be completely clear, if I ended up doing this I would probably have, at most, a bunch of character sheets and a few disconnected scenes that I might share publicly, not anything full-fledged that I'd properly publish/commercialize (that requires more energy and focus than I currently have), so I'm not even sure if me stressing so much about this is even necessary, but welp. I'd rather be safe than sorry)

But anyway, let me know your thoughts about this if you have any. Also, I might add more info about the ideas slowly rotating inside my head like they're microwaving there in the reblogs if you're looking for that. (I will definitely add that info because the thoughts kept rotating in the time it took for me to draft this post lmao)

[ophanimkei]

Goodbye My Love

warning for mental illness

​Hey! Ommatophilia is out and released! Imagine telling past me I'd be horrible sick releasing Ommatophilia, then right after I'd get the flu then a killer sinus infection. Pretty awesome. And cool. Right? Right. Yeah. Haha.

I guess I'm pretty happy with how Ommatophilia turned out. Part of me wants to do more to it and the other part of me never wants to look at it again. Spending such a long amount of time on a game is pretty exhausting haha, then getting sick and being unable to advertise the way you want to sucks as well. It is unfortunate but what can you do really? It feels weird now that it's done. I don't know if this will sound normal, but.. Ommatophilia for the past 4 years has honestly been my… everything? When I had my shitty roommates, I was still working on Omma. When I had my shitty job at PF Chang's, I doodled the characters' in my notebook and wrote down notes for the story while I worked. I'd stay up late after my shift getting game dev done because I knew I needed to make some progress or the story would never be done.

I took breaks from it, sure, but it never really left my mind. I was always rotating it around- talking about it with friends, writing about it in my notebook, thinking about things I didn't like in it, problems I'd fix, if I'd ever finish, if I'd abandon it.. The fact that I couldn't allow myself to commit suicide until Ommatophilia was finished. Honestly that's the really big one.

I've finished Ommatophilia, and like, I had all of these projects I told myself I'd tackle afterwards, but I just feel weird. It's like I can't start any of them. Usually I view smaller projects as a break from Ommatophilia or some random thing I may not finish- then I go back to Ommatophilia to fill my time, but now I'm just floating in space.

I know I can still make projects. It's fine. Meat Girl released and it's the most successful thing I've released in probably ever? I'm kinda sitting here wondering if it'll be the most successful thing I ever release? I mean, it doesn't matter, I'm so happy people resonated with Meat Girl! I literally just made that because I was miserable and needed to take a break from Ommatophilia and just had some concepts kicking around in my head.

I actually had a feeling it'd garner popularity because of the aesthetics and game jams it was in though it still exceeded my expectations. I thought I was hyping myself up a bit. It's hard having one thing be popular because you're just kinda tempted to keep doing the same stuff over and over, but logically I know that wouldn't work and also I'd rather die than let the other stories in my head die in hopes of holding on to the smallest bit of popularity Meat Girl had.. It would be shameful, and if I did that, I hope I'd wake up in some kind of hell where my characters torture me forever.

That is to say I never really expected Ommatophilia to have a fraction of the popularity of Meat Girl and the fact that I got any feedback at all is shocking. I'm very happy I could make a few people cry. That's really all I wanted. For some reason though, I think about my time with Ommatophilia and I find myself crying too.

I'm crying now actually. I hadn't realized it. When I was 17 or 18 I think.. I don't know, sometime during Covid, Adventure Time ended, and I cried so much. I didn't even like the finale that much, but I just sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. Like I'm sobbing now. I don't know.

I'm listening to the Ommatophilia playlist and there's a song my abuser put on it for me. And this song is really important to me despite the worst person in my life showing it to me. It's the Reeling by Passion Pit. I don't know. I never really told anyone who showed it to me. I just always told people I really liked the song. Listening to it while writing Ommatophilia's post mortem hurts. It really feels like I'm leaving so much in my life behind you know.

And I mean like, I know these characters can appear in my stories forever and they will. It's just.. Ommatophilia itself.. With its character sheets I always felt frustrated with, my constant anxieties about the writing, waking up at night feeling so anxious and thinking “I guess I'll develop Ommatophilia since I can't sleep..”

What do I do now? I mean I know what I do? But. This was it. All my childhood dogs have died. My childhood best friends aren't in my life anymore. Music doesn't sound the same. Food doesn't taste the same. Adventure Time is over. I always had Omma. I could always go back to it. But now it's over. I didn't realize what Ommatophilia being over would be like. I always knew relief would come but.. I've just been lying in bed. I crave to open my laptop and write the characters interacting. I want to see Black and Mercy banter. I want to watch Blue struggle to speak. I want to think about Angel's inner thoughts. I want to think about the snow and the decaying small town.

It's like my old home that I can't go back to.

I have new stories. I'll be making new things forever. It just feels weird. I miss everyone. I miss the past. I miss when everything was easier. It'll be fine. The future will be fun. It's just hard right now. I didn't really realize how I felt.

But we're good. We keep going. It's fine. We've got milfs, murderers, dykes, and various other women to write now. I mean I made a story about a meat fungus in October and Ommatophilia was basically finished by then, so clearly my brain still has stuff going on. The pity part has to end. We roll.

I love everyone who plays Ommatophilia, even if you dislike it. I love Ommatophilia, and I'm happy I spent my last four years working on it, even with all of its jank. It's dear to me. I'll miss everyone. I'm so happy I could tell the story I wanted to tell, no matter how badly it hurts. I've never finished a story and had it hurt this bad. It must've really been worth it in the end.

I love you! I love you! You were my everything! Goodbye!

[aranarumei]

tag game

thanks @purplecelestial-buddy for the tag!

Last song: Mama's Broken Heart by Miranda Lambert

Favorite color: crimson. yeah it's the color of blood.

Last book: i read some short stories from dragon age: tevinter nights, which is hilarious considering that i have never played dragon age. i still need to read vol 9 of jeweler richard

Last manga: recently i caught up to oofuri (ookiku furikabutte / big windup) which has been a really fascinating read. i read it originally back in 2016, and loved it. connected with abe and mihashi a lot in terms of emotions. got frustrated at their torturously slow miscommunication but also enticed by their relationship. like 8 years or so after the fact, i think i'm at a place where i'm much more fascinated by the mundanity of oofuri's setting. like actually i love this slow tension. it's not like i didn't love it before, but there's things I can appreciate about it that i didn't see before. and also, in the 80 or so chapters that i missed, there's been a lot of interesting things.

Last movie: sonic 3. saw it in theaters w/ my siblings. i am not immune to live & learn.

Last show: well. technically it's season 17 of rupaul's drag race. but like if we are counting webseries then drawtectives.

Sweet/spicy/savory: spicy. i don't have the best spice tolerance but i do like the flavor of spice. i would say i'm like, above average in terms of tolerance but not crazy.

Relationship status: this is a boring question for me so i'm just gonna say smthing to the person who tagged me. that's a "relationship" in some sense isn't it. aster i think you're very cool and i am kind of amazed that you've actually checked out my recs in a timely manner, considering i'm awful at that stuff. personally to prevent binge reading and forgetting the contents of an entire manga, i like to take notes every few chs and get my reactions down. this is also supremely helpful for rereading bits i like and remembering certain chapters.

Last thing I googled: "ijbol" bc i didn't know what it meant.

Current obsession: hm... the 2 pg hanzawa bday comic? i have a lot of obsessions i could work up some feelings for but i am running on a steady hanzawa & tashiro mood these days. kind of related to a year-long project i wanna work on... oh this is so self-obsessed but i've kind of been rotating violeta fantasy (fake game i made up) around my head lately

Looking forward to: i have so many tumblr posts i want to make...

will tag @sunnnfish and @dirtbra1n to see if they'd like to do one.

[altschmerzes]

Sooo I’ve been wanting to ask this but have also been too nervous to do so for fear of sounding too demanding or fishing for too many spoilers…but after seeing your recent post about being happy to talk about your fics, I’m just going to go for it 😂 I am very curious about how you plan to tackle episode 2x8 and the changes you’ll be making, and just…is there anything you’d be willing to share about all that?

AH YEAH ONE OF THE...... BIGGEST THINGS(TM) IN THIS ENTIRE CONCEPT AND FIC. from the BEGINNING this was gonna be Enormous no matter what and i am happy to talk about it!!! i love when people are invested in my projects tbh it makes it way more fun and engaging to work on them. you guys feed my energy to work on this thing, and thus it gets done faster, etc.

("is there anything you'd be willing to share?" [goes off on a whole big explanation that is probably WAY more than you asked for-])

so. 2x08. and all that. gonna put it under a cut again, in case 'gav explains in some degree of... detail exactly what they're gonna write in their fic' is gonna ruin the experience for you (gosh i hope not ljkdsf) but here we go (also cw for abuse here, which is probably obvious but. still.)-

2x08 is where things like... it marks the big Shift in the status quo of how things are, though the actual Events of 2x08 as translated into the au are sort of in the middle of an extended series of events that begin before it and end after it. so i'll talk through sorta the process of events that it's contained in.

basically, at the time it starts jamie is living with his dad most of the week in manchester but spending weekends staying with his friends in a rotation in richmond so he can work at nelson road on weekends. (yes, i'm aware of how far away those places are from each other. yes this is an insane commute. everybody is aware it's insane, everybody is sort of tactfully avoiding pointing it out to jamie. he does his homework on the bus, it's peaceful, he says.) he gets to richmond late fridays, goes to whichever friend whose house he's staying at that weekend, and then gets home sunday evenings.

at this point, ted is getting way more worried about jamie as time goes on, and others are too. he's been talking to his little like. war meeting of responsible adults he's consulting on whether he's right about what he's suspecting here, what to do about it, how, when, etc. and he's just recently gotten worried enough that he's given his phone number to jamie's friends at the park, shannon and company, and told them that if they're ever worried, if something ever Happens with jamie that sets off that 'i need to get an adult' instinct and they don't know who to call, they can call him. in fact, please call him. and so shannon calls him. because it's like, wednesday or thursday, jamie is not supposed to be in town this early, and he seems hurt. he seems hurt and it seems bad. by the time ted gets there, jamie has bolted and they don't know where he is. and there's just... nothing really to do. he's texting shannon saying he's fine and leave him alone.

and then there's the match at wembley. which is coming up Right Now so they have to deal with that, not like they can postpone it, so they get all the way to the match with this awareness in the back of their heads that like. jamie's out there somewhere having just had a really bad fight with his father, who very obviously based on context clues and what shannon said has beat the hell out of him, he's hurt, but they just have to sort of. keep going. for the moment.

and they lose the match obvs, and jamie went to it with his father - he and some friends are staying in town for a night or two for the event, he got jamie to arrange him tickets a bit back like in canon as well - and comes to see them after because he wants to be there when things are bad too, and that leads to a confrontation when his father comes to find him, and it gets. bad. jamie tries to defend himself but it gets violent, and by the time they're able to intervene he's been. knocked around a bit. (a bit more.)

at that point it's pretty clear that he needs a hospital. it's not life threatening, or anything like that, but it's obvious to ted and roy, who are primarily dealing with this situation (and yeah we get a version of the hug with roy - which scares the fuck out of roy when that's how it becomes clear to him that jamie is Seriously Hurt), that he's not just hurt he's injured and they cannot in good conscience not take him to a hospital. which means doctors and social workers and an overnight stay and a while where they're not allowed in the room with him while the people in charge figure out what's going on and what to do about it. jamie is released from hospital and allowed to go home with ted (and roy, who tags along for a bit, because someone needs to drive them and he can't stomach leaving just yet) late the next evening, but it's a deeply stressful and traumatic experience for all involved. jamie has a lot of healing to do, both physically and emotionally, but this is the big like. turning point towards things Being Okay in the end, finally getting him into a safe place where he'll be loved and cared for.

[kmlaney]

WIP questionnaire

tagged by @coffeewritesfiction and I am so sorry to take this long on a reply. Thanks for the tag!

Tagging @fallenscintilla (if you want! No pressure!) and @waywardwizzard and anyone who wants to!

1. What is the first part of your WIP that you created?

The very first line was: “D’ya think I care how it tastes?” I posted an edited version here. There's a snip of the original here.

For the record, it started as a character background for a TTRPG. In fact, it wasn’t even going to be the character I was going to play. Harrowed (undead/revenant) gunfighter? *eyeroll* Too cliché. I even made a homebrew archetype to play: a “spiritualist” in the late 1800’s sense. But that first line kept bugging me so I figured, okay. Fine. I’ll write this one scene and then work on my spiritualist. 

Yeah. No. I never played the spiritualist.

2. If your story was a TV show, what would the theme song/intro be?

I did all the fan stuff for Phil and Skyfallen, like playlists, faceclaims, all of that. I never did that before. I selected music for the theoretical TV show: main theme, a rotating list of outro/credits roll music, pieces for certain kinds of scenes. So if Skyfallen were a TV series, this would be the theme:

3. What are your favorite characters that you made? Why?

That’s like asking which of my pets was my favorite. I love them all. I guess I loved Phil enough to make them the viewpoint character. They’re a more-mature version of the kind of character I wrote when I was a kid, now with serious problems I can explore as an adult. I like Phil’s father, whom I was determined to fridge in the beginning because fridging is usually a female character. Ha Ha! Then I went and gave him a character arc that could only end in his death so he’s not fridged after all. 

I like Travelling Sam for being a conniving, money-grubbing jerk, but he’s fun to write. I like Eva as Carnival Mom; Maury for being a flamboyant, fun-to-be-around person hiding a serious drinking problem that everyone knows about. I like Doc Butcher for his name, for actually being trained as a vet but caring about everyone, and trying to do his best when he’s in over his head because he can’t do nothing. 

I like Maker Lewis for his change of heart, though he was already on the fence and just needed a shove. And I like Miss Warren for being a nosy reporter whom Phil doesn’t want to like but ends up liking anyway. She also lets me play at muckraking reporter. Choosing words to specifically slant a piece is a load of fun.

4. What other pieces of media do you think your fan base would share?

Skyfallen has its roots in Westerns, so people who like cinematic westerns are a potential fanbase. I include horror, steampunk, and gothic elements, so if your venn diagram of interests includes those things then it might be for you. 

Things I like that influenced or feel like this story: Silverado, The Magnificent Seven, RIPD 2 Rise of the Damned (movies. I hate to admit that last one but it was fun). Deadlands (TTRPG game. I created Phil for this setting). The Dark Tower novels--primarily Wizard and Glass but any of the parts dealing with Roland’s world. 

There is zero romance. Phil’s ace, there is no main love interest, and anyone who gets together does so very off-screen. 

5. What has been your biggest struggle with your WIP?

When writing the draft, the individual scenes flew out of my brain. I could hardly write them fast enough. In deep editing, though, it’s the big-picture stuff I find challenging. Which themes do I want to emphasize and which are less important? Do I really need all this buildup or should I start later? I need to show certain things so the later ones make sense, but that makes it even longer. It’s already very long; shouldn’t I be cutting things down? Argh. It's frustrating.

6. Are there any animals in your story? Talk about them!

There are animals. Most are utilitarian: Horses, dogs, cats, chickens, cows. There are monsters also (for certain values of “monster”) all along the continuum from “non-sapient animal” through to “self-aware human intelligence.” 

The way they figure into the story is more interesting. In life, Phil liked animals in general and had a special fondness for horses and mules. After dying and coming back reanimated, animals can’t stand to be around them. Phil doesn’t figure it out right away, and it hurts when they do.

7. How do your characters get around? (Ex. Trains, horses, cars, dragons, etc.)

For the area the characters are in for the bulk of the story, most people walk, ride horses, or ride in wagons, carts, or coaches pulled by horses or teams of horses. There are a couple of trains but they are rare. In other areas, trains are common, as are ferries and lake boats. Airships exist; they are novelties and considered simultaneously luxurious and dangerous. In larger cities, along with the horse-drawn vehicles, people have bicycles, rickshaws, pedal-powered rickshaws, and palanquins. Automatons in a variety of configurations may be subbed in for horses or people in any of those conveyances. 

8. What part of your WIP are you working on right now?

I’ve identified some specific foreshadowing that needs to happen. So I need to add that in. There are a few names that aren’t consistent; they’re flagged so I can fix them. I need to put in a few encounters so later ones make sense. It’s not exactly foreshadowing so much as worldbuilding. So editing stuff.

9. What aspects (tropes, maybe) of your WIP do you think will draw people in?

I have a hard time identifying tropes in my work, probably because I’m in the trees, so to speak, and can’t see the forest. Or groves, to push the metaphor. Having said that, here’s an attempt:

Portal/isekai

Found family

Unlikely group of heroes

Humans can be evil; monsters can be sympathetic

Religion, Magic, and cults 

Monsters dwelling among humans

Enemies to not-friends (don’t push your luck)

Things get worse

Everyone has secrets

Lost memories, memory tampering

Weird West

Steampunk and Gothic Horror

Gunslinger/trick shot

Noble Demon/antihero

Good is not nice

I did come up with one of those taglines that you might see on the bottom of the cover of a book: 

“Every Skyfallen has something they want to forget. And everyone in the Mistlands is Skyfallen.”

10. What are your hopes for your WIP?

Originally I was hoping for traditional publishing. I might still try to go that way. I’m also looking into self-pub, and websites that host serial stories. I think this story fits better into a serial format than a traditional book format. I need to make it more coherent (hence editing phase)

[disgruntledkittenface]

snippet

thank you @kingsofeverything @louandhazaf @uhoh-but-yeah-alright @neondiamond and @nouies for tagging me lately to post a line or snippet <3 I've been outlining my narry fic for @theshowficfest for weeks and after talking through with Nic this weekend, I finally started writing today!

“Hello, lovers!”

About half of the group huddled near the bench turn their heads at the greeting Niall calls out as she approaches. She feels a rush of sympathy for her friends who have to play in the crisp morning air; the light breeze has her shivering in her cardigan and she clutches her paper coffee cup to her chest as she strides toward the field. The kickball league that they all signed up for months ago had seemed like a good idea at the time. But now that the schedule has been released and nine o’clock games on Saturday mornings have become a reality, Niall is sure she’s not the only one on their team with some regrets. 

“You’re late.” Louis, Niall’s best friend and favorite ex-girlfriend, crosses her arms and narrows her eyes, staring Niall down. Her wife, affectionately known as Hot Luke (for reasons obvious to the naked eye), ruffles her hand through Louis’ short brown hair, but Louis remains unmoved.

“Sorry, sorry,” Niall says, swallowing a laugh at Louis’ pout. “I told you, I had to go out with my sister and the rest of the bridesmaids last night.”

The ref blows her whistle from home plate, drawing attention from both sides of the field. 

Louis shakes her head, pointing at Niall as she says, “I better hear you cheering from the stands during the second half,” before she jogs away. 

The players, suited up in blue shorts and t-shirts, set down their water bottles and what looks like snacks of orange slices, and the rest of the group heads over to the stands. Everyone sits in groups of two and threes, most in beanies and some with blankets. Niall settles next to her friends Liam and Shawn. The decision not to play had been made for Liam this week; the girls voted to rotate her on and off the bench in an effort to combat her addictive personality. Shawn, on the other hand, hadn’t been able to decide whether or not to play by the time sign ups closed, so she’s a spectator by default. And Niall had anticipated a grueling hangover following the makeshift bachelorette party the night before, so their friend Zayn had agreed to play for her after Niall promised her a ride to IKEA next month. 

“So, Ni,” Liam says, her eyes focused on the field, “how was it last night?”

Yeah,” Shawn says, looking over at Niall with a wide grin. “Was it all, like, penis straws and cosmos?”

“Actually, yes,” Niall says, breaking into a laugh. “And everyone kept apologizing to me? Especially when they broke out the penis shaped lollipops.”

“You’re joking,” Liam says, finally tearing her eyes away from the game. “Did they…”

“Make a game out of going down on them? Yes, yes, they did.”

Shawn winces. “That sucks that you had to go.”

“It’s okay,” Niall says, shrugging and taking a sip of coffee. “I feel better now about not going on the bachelorette trip to Nashville. I told my sister, ‘I love you, but I don’t love you that much.’”

They both laugh at that, and Niall is pretty sure they think she’s joking, but she absolutely is not.

“Was it fun at all?” Shawn asks, running a hand through her mop of dark curls. “You know some of her friends, right?”

“Yeah, I do,” Niall says, nodding. She glances at the field to see that Louis is trying to sign something to Zayn, who’s completely checked out in left field. “From birthday parties, things like that. And it was fine, it was just awkward. Like, they started talking about whether they’re dominant or submissive during sex, and when they got to me, I had to explain that sex with women is just different. If I really wanted to blow their minds, I could have told them how much better it is, how everyone gets to come each time.”

“Spoken like a true top.”

The remark came from the row in front of them and Niall looks down to see who spoke. A girl with chin length brown curls and a playful smile twists at the waist to look up at her.

Harry.   

I'll tag you all back and add @crinkle-eyed-boo @homosociallyyours @hellolovers13 @allwaswell16 and @onlythebravest

[allie-campbell-bradshaw]

Chapter 14: Surprises

A/N: Okay, we’re getting back to this story being good…I promise, the fluff is coming! It’s honestly hard to believe that we are now 14 chapters into this phenomenal story. I know it has been a slow start, but I promise we are going to start moving forward from here on out. I mention this in every chapter, but in case you missed it- I do not give permission for my work to be re-posted without credibility. If you do want to post this story to your page, please be sure that you tag my account or at least mention its original source in your post. 

Also: This story is sequential…please go back and read my other chapters, in order, for the best results!

Again, thank you for being here and I hope you enjoy :)

Warnings: Swearing

Chapter 14: Surprises

BRADLEY’S POV

“Holy shit!” Javy exclaimed with wide eyes, completely taken aback by the story I had just shared with him. The story of Friday night, sparing the excruciatingly romantic details.

Natasha’s eyes left mine to meet Javy’s, looking equally as impressed as him, but not as obvious, “Wait until Frasier hears about this!” she exclaimed, calling out the inevitable–Emmett was going to be filled in. And when he was, all hell would break loose with endless amounts of teasing and bullshit.

“So you lost her number, and then spent the past 24 hours in the hospital waiting for her?” Javy was retelling the story out loud so he could comprehend it better. He was still struggling to process all the developments that had occurred over the weekend.

“Yeah,” I answered. Short and casual.

“Geez” Natasha stated, eyes going wide and letting out a loud gust of air as she adjusted into the seat next to me.

Javy was sitting in front of us today, taking the turn to sit alone. That was our agreement for the seating arrangement since the tables only fit 2 students. We opted to take the front two tables on the right side of the lecture hall. Javy sat at the very front table and Natasha and I were directly behind him. Every time we had lecture, we would rotate. Tomorrow would be my turn to sit in the front. Thank God it wasn’t my turn today! I was dog shit tired!!!

Javy and I adjusted in our seats, as well as the rest of the class. The Naval Academy was very punctual. This class, Flight Training I, started right at 10:45, and if you were a split second late, you would be locked out of the hall. Someone in my Calculus I class was not even 10 seconds late and found himself struggling with the locked doorknob. Another student in class got up to let him in, and was stopped by the Captain that was instructing the course. The student that was late AND the student that tried to help both did 50 pushups on the field of the track after class. The rest of us had to watch at attention, heavily concentrating on our stance, we didn’t dare breathe out of place. No one has ever been late to anything on campus since then.

It was now 10:44 and our flight instructor was nowhere to be found. Everyone in class was looking at each other, waiting for someone to speak up. 

I was about to pull out my phone and check my school email for possible cancellations when a white man, nearly bald, stormed into the room. He had a few strands of white hair resting on the bottom portion of his head. He was wearing the same service khakis as we were. However, his were decked out in ribbons and insignias, whereas we only had 1, the generic service ribbon that we got on the day we took our oath.

“Good morning midshipmen,” He said sternly, obviously not someone that cared about having a ‘polite’ reputation on campus. There was a pause in his voice as he reviewed the roster which was attached to a clipboard on his desk, “and women” he finished, noting the two women that were in our course. I looked over at Natasha, who scooted in her chair, bothered by the lack of respect taken towards her gender.

He dropped the clipboard down onto the desk, leaving a loud echo behind him as he leaned over the steel and into our eyes, “I honestly don’t give a shit about learning your names. Statistically speaking, 2 of you will fail out of the aviation program before you get to the finish line, 3 of you will die in action within the first two years, and another one of you will be a POW in the middle east before you’re 30, which means that only 1 of you will have what it takes to make it to Top Gun before retirement, and even then, nothing is guaranteed”.

A chill ran down my spine as this man spoke his last sentence. He never once made eye contact with me, instead looking in the opposite direction of the room, but it seemed as though he directed that statement unto me. I looked down at my notebook and blue pen, picking it up and twirling it through my fingers. Natasha noticed the change in my demeanor, and learned forward, a look of concern on her face. I didn’t want to explain this to her. Not now. Maybe not ever. So I just shook my head and kept my gaze down. Her gaze went back to the instructor as he finished his statement, “Let the bloodbath begin.”

Javy looked over his shoulder at the two of us, feeling completely uneasy. I could see the fear in my classmates' eyes as the realization that some of us in this room would be dead soon became a hard statistical fact. I continued to spin the pen around as he went on with his introduction, “I am Rear Admiral Thomas Campbell. You will call me Rear Admiral Campbell, not ‘hey you’, ‘teacher’, ‘mister’, or ‘Sir’, do I make myself clear?”

My eyes went completely wide with shock and fear as he announced his full name. Before then, I had completely tuned him out. The pen that was in my hand fell straight onto the paper, leaving a trail of ink as it went flat onto the surface. I could feel Natasha’s eyes on me and in my periphery, I could see that Javy was tense, his head half tilted to us, but still keeping his eyes forward.

“The only exception to my name is to call me by my call sign, “Panther” when we are in the air. During your first year, you will spend a total of 80 hours in our simulation room and 20 hours in the air, flying our cessnas. You have all been grouped based on ability and performance on your pre-assessment taken last week. Three of you will be with me, two of you will be with Justin Fulterski, call-sign “String Bean”, and the last two will be with my daughter, Allie Campbell, call-sign “Baby”. Both of whom are adjunct instructors with their pilots license. They are not active duty soldiers, so you do not salute them”.

The doors opened and Justin, followed by Allie, came into the room, wearing the green flying suits that we will eventually wear in the air. Now Javy was completely turned, looking right at me. Natasha was covered in shock, but trying hard to hold onto her poker face, a face that won a poker tournament this weekend. However, she did steal some glances my way every few seconds. A few other classmates had their eyes glued to me while the remainder were still focused on Admiral Campbell’s speech.

I kept my eyes down, grabbing my aviators and pulling them over my eyes, avoiding all eye contact from the front of the room where Allie was now standing. I used the opportunity I had to steal a glance at her, knowing I was shielded by the dark tint of the glasses so she wouldn’t know I was looking.

Her eyes were right on me, her lips pursed and cheeks slightly pink with a sort of “gotcha” look on her face. She looked away a few seconds later and brought her gaze to her father. Her hair was tightly pulled up into a bun on the back of her head, the standard for women in the military.

Her father…Her father was my flight instructor, and not only that, he was an admiral for my branch of the armed forces! I brought my attention back to him, my head swimming too much to even be able to half-focus, but I tried. “And now for our flight assignments,” Admiral Campbell went on, grabbing a stack of folders. “I will be taking those with the least amount of flight experience, which is Ashton, Stellar, and Heights,” he said as he made eye contact with the two men and the woman who were called, slightly embarrassed at his candid reasoning. “Machado and Trace will go with Bean. Which leaves Ryans and Bradshaw with Baby”.

We both made eye contact with each other as her dad handed her over two files, obviously papers of me and my partner. I took off my aviators and looked at her, hard. I couldn’t decide what to think. On one hand, I was excited that I had her as an instructor, but on the other hand, I felt cheated. We spent almost 2 hours together on Friday and not once did she mention having a pilots license or being an instructor on campus for that matter. She must have seen the torn expression on my face, because when I looked up at her again, she looked quite insecure in her position. She was now avoiding eye contact with me completely.

Rear Admiral Campbell continued his speech, telling us that we would spend our first month in the simulation room before we get into the air. This new flight training program was designed to get Naval Aviators in the air before attending flight school, working with the harder military aircrafts. For the next three years, we would just be focused on the cessna’s and getting as many flight hours in as we could before our next step.

After the Naval Academy, we would all go to Rhode Island for Officer Training School. This was a requirement for anyone entering naval service. So Natasha, Javy, and Emmett would all be going along with me. Once we complete that course, Emmett would be separated from us, and the two others and I would go to Florida for the Air Indoctrination Course. Then there would be flight school, our final step to officially become an aviator for the U.S. Navy. We would either stay in Florida or go to Texas for that. The whole process was going to be long and tedious, but knowing that Allie was going to be one of my instructors for a small part of it, made it a little more fulfilling than it already was. Something a little more special.

I didn’t realize how lost in thought I was until Natasha nudged my shoulder. I quickly blinked and came out of it, seeing that all of my classmates were getting up and heading for the doors of the lecture hall. Natasha looked at me concerned and confused, but I just brushed it off, making my way to the doors. Allie and Justin were still standing in the front of the room, watching us as we left. I looked over my shoulder at her one last time, letting the frustration of this surprise show on my face, shaking my head at her as I went up the steps of the isles. She looked down, with an upset expression now on her face. Justin turned his head to her, but I didn’t catch anything else at that point. I was already out of the room by then.

I followed the crowd of my classmates as they walked down the halls, Natasha standing to my left and Javy to my right.

“What the fuuuuuuck,” Javy whispered.

“Shut up,” I snapped back, keeping my voice down so no one else caught on.

“I just can’t-” Javy went on, finding himself as speechless as Natasha and I already were, “Did you know about this?” He asked, looking over at Trace.

All she did in response was raise her eyebrows and shake her head, not knowing what to say at this moment.

Eventually the crowd we were following went outside and onto the tarmac, watching as upperclassmen were walking around the area, every one of them paired up and getting settled into their T-68 Texan II.

All of us watched in amazement at what was happening. They all had flight suits on, helmets, and a full team of managers helping on the ground.

“Calm down boys!” Admiral Campbell said to us. Natasha let out a loud breath. I looked over at her and saw in her eyes that her blood was boiling, obviously Admiral Campbell was not used to women being in this program. “You won’t be flying these babies until the beginning of your fourth year. Third if you’re lucky,” he went on, looking at me as he said this. I furrowed my eyebrows and looked over at Natasha who just raised her eyebrows a little bit and gave a slight nod, a soft smirk on her face. I never was one to stick out from the pack, so I didn’t really know how to handle this…and I didn’t really want to learn.

“Now ladies and gentlemen,” he started. It was nice to see him finally getting into the inclusion: “Enjoy the show.” He kept his stance tall as he turned around, his hand behind his back, holding his fingers together.

We watched as Justin and Allie emerged from a hanger, both of which were carrying their own helmets. His were various shades of green, with the words “string bean” written in yellow paint. Hers was white with ‘Baby’ painted in light blue cursive along the top.

Both of them quickly got into a Texan, strapping themselves in and communicating with the ground crew. They were signing things to each other, although I had no idea what they were saying. Eventually they stopped signing and the aircraft was turned, the backs now facing us. Admiral Campbell looked over at a grounds crew man that was standing by a radio. Campbell nodded at him and the Black crewman turned on a handheld radio that was sitting on a table.

“Texan 2 ready for taxi.” Justin said over the radio.

“Texan 3 ready for taxi.” Allie’s voice came through the radio.

“Texan 3, begin taxi first, face North,” another voice said. I looked up at the air traffic control tower that was right above us. The windows were completely tinted black with white stone covering the leg of the tower. Natasha and I stole a glance at each other, with a WTF expression on our face as the shock of this morning settled into a reality.

After a few minutes, Allie came on and said she was ready for departure. I looked over at the walkie and heard the same air traffic controller say, “Texan 3, you are clear for departure”.

“Copy, clear for departure.” Allie said. Within seconds, her aircraft roared to life and we watched as her plane sped down the runway and took off towards the Northern sky. Everyone turned their bodies as her jet moved past us, the sound  excruciatingly loud and wind intently smacking onto our bodies. “Holy shit!” a classmate yelled. No one else said anything, instead we watched in amazement as the jet circled around us in the sky.

Eventually, Justin was also up there, and we watched as the aircrafts moved, obviously showing off a well-rehearsed flight show. They spun, and spiraled, and circled each other, ending their show with a “fly by” right over the control tower. Everyone's eyes, including my own, were beaming.

I watched as Allie’s aircraft landed on the runway, coming to a halt and taxing over so Justin could land. Then they drove their aircraft back over to us and sat there as the grounds crew helped them with the proper procedure of getting out of their aircrafts. I glanced down at my watch and noticed that this whole thing lasted over an hour, although it only felt like 15 minutes.

Justin and Allie walked over to us, taking off their helmets and balancing them down on their hips, standing behind Admiral Campbell.

Campbell turned around, facing us now, we weren’t able to see his eyes anymore since they were shielded by his aviators: “I hope you all took something out of that,” he began, “They may not be naval aviators, but they are your flight instructors, and I trust that all of you learn something from them. I can tell you right now, they are without a doubt more skilled than any of you are, even the more experienced ones”. At this, Allie and I looked at each other. She gave a cocky smirk and brought her eyes back to her dad, but I kept my gaze on her. The breeze that was created by the other Texan’s that the fourth years were now flying kept hitting her, causing her hair to slowly come out of its tight bun, strands blowing around in the wind. Her blonde hair was even more prominent now against the green of the flight suit than they were against the deep red of her sweater last Friday. Shit! Her sweater. It was still sitting in the front seat of my new bronco. A car that he gave me as a gift for being admitted into the Naval Academy, which is a hilarious reasoning given the circumstances. I knew that this “gift” was really an unofficial way of him asking me to visit. But honestly, why would I? I had nothing to say to him, and God knows I would NEVER spend another Thanksgiving, Easter, or Christmas with him ever again! Never.

“And now, to the locker rooms,” Admiral Campbell said, “You have a present waiting for you”. He turned his body and began walking towards the doors that we came out of over an hour ago. Shit! I completely missed what he said, being lost in my own thoughts of him. 

I watched as classmates passed me and made their ways to the doors, finding myself frozen. Frozen in a physical and mental sense. Allie passed me as well, which now left me in the back of the pack, watching everyone walk through the door. I used this as my opportunity to talk with her, since more and more witnesses were now indoors, especially her father.

I started walking and increased my pace to a light jog so I could catch up to her, which I did in a matter of seconds: “You could have told me,” I said calmly, but making it clear that my patience was rattled.

She looked over her shoulder at me and decreased her pace, “You never asked,” she said to me, dropping her head and looking at the ground as we made our way closer and closer to the door.

“Don’t pin this on me! I told you that I was in the aviation program here, and you never even thought ‘well hey! Maybe I should tell him that I’m his Goddamn flight instructor’”. 

She froze at this, letting out a big “huff” as her body turned towards mine: “Look,” she said to me, putting on that same calm tone in her voice that she gave me the day I hurt my hand with that ‘rehearsed speech’ of hers, “If I would have known that I was your flight instructor, yes, I probably would have said something. But I didn’t know anything until this morning, and besides, it’s not like I could have given you a warning this morning in King Hall because you weren’t there. Instead, you were sitting around in the hospital, waiting for me”.

“How did you-” I started to ask, then froze as I assumed the answer to my own question, “You nurses really hear everything don’t you?”

She gave me a ‘no shit’ look and then turned her body, aiming towards the door, but I was able to grab onto her arm before she could move an inch. “Why didn’t you at least tell me about your dad?” I asked, still keeping a calmed tone in my voice. I have learned that the best way to get anywhere with her is if you kept your composure as best you could. 

Whenever I got mad or frustrated, she would too. She always matched my energy, and I could tell that this hypothesis was correct because she immediately lost a bunch of tension in her body, relaxing a little as she looked down at my hand that was wrapped around her bicep. Her mouth was slightly open, and her breath increased a little. She looked at me with a gentle look in her eyes as she continued to breathe. She closed her mouth, and I noticed her eyes became a little hard, “Well,” she began, in her all too familiar sassy tone: “I would have had time to get to that, but I was underwater”. She shook off my arm and made her way to the door. Damn. Right when I thought I had her figured out.

[eyesore-boi]

Traptains

We thought we could rely on the captain, but what about four more of them?

........Okay a whole bunch of context below if you're interested-

OKAY- SO- CONTEXT- A little less than a month after ISWM Part 2 came out, me and my friends started a BIG OL' RP surrounding it where our personas/captainsonas met up and just kinda...went through the broken universe to try and fix it again, but this time we started involving meeting up with our own OC's in their universes, dragging along some of the Markiplier egos (Hee Hoo, Stan the Water Man, Yancy, and Old Man Mark, if you're curious), getting chased down by Actor as the main baddie so that's fun, expanding more of our own backstories and l o r e, and just sO MUCH DAMN ANGST HOLY FUCK THESE GUYS NEED T H E R A P Y -

And if you're wondering why two of the captains are demons and ones has a full on eyeball for a head (me) and how that still makes sense for the lore of the universe......um-

Also also, if you're wondering why it's called "Traptains", it's cause we all work on the Markiplier Webcomic "Trapped" (go read it now it's great) and we RP it o n the actual server, so when we were tryna to think of a name for it, my big brain saw Trapped, saw that ee were captains, and just kinda....smashed them together....perfect-

But yeah, this RP has s t i l l been going and it's gonna be almost a year old which is interesting, so, wanting to do something for it (and running on good ol' a r t b l o c k -) I decided to do this, and this is actually a redraw from when we first ever started! Here's the OG (also a person got added in the new one cause they came in late jdkabdlsbsh-):

But yeah! Decided to post it here since haven't posted anything in a while, and actually kinda really proud of this one, especially seeing all the improvement, so hope ya guys like it too with these deeply traumatized captains! :]

oH! Speaking of them, lemme tag 'em so you can show support for them >:]]

@athenaistrapped @iam-unoriginal @reiquetzal @bubblegumberry19 (on Instagram)

Anyhoo, I'm gonna rotate this around in my head some more for a few more hours cause lemme tell you this RP has given us brainrot you would not fucking b e l i e v e -

[laesas]

For fanfic ask game 👀, 🌝 and 🖊 please!

OMG I ended up writing so much for these that I'm gonna have to put the long answers under a readmore! But short answers:

👀 Do you have any WIPs that you would never let see the light of day? If yes, what are they about?

KimKen dubcon interrogation... 👀

🌝 Who is one character you haven’t yet written for that you would like to?

Weirdly as of late: Chan! - I'm entering my Dilf 4 Dilf divorce era someone give me pre-canon ChanGun I'm begging.

🖊 Post a snippet from a current WIP.

Chay + Tankhun hours under the cut!!

Thanks so so much lovely!!

✨📝 Writers Ask Game 📝✨

💌Send me one here!💌

👀 Do you have any WIPs that you would never let see the light of day? If yes, what are they about?

Soooooo. I there's only one fic that I've actually written up that won't ever see the light of day and that's the 4k or so of the initial ideas and concepts for the KimBig - Kim ended up coming across as more distrustful of Big than he is (because it's Big POV we dont get to see inside his head), and it ended up coming across as a little too "Vegas". While he's rude to Big in canon he isnt actually hugely distrustful; he's banking on Big serving Kinn over Korn to get information on Porsche and the potential mole(s).

I love the energy but it felt very 2-dimensional and I couldn't wrangle the context it to make it work. Plus I absolutely love the emotional vulnerability I've created in the KimBig 2.0 from Kim's perspective - it feels a lot more realistic. I realised if I wanted to use the first dynamic I'd definitely have to make it happen with someone Kim didn't trust at all (cue Ken).

So in short: The rework where it's KimKen - Kim suspects that Ken is the mole and goes all knife-to-throat femme fatale while accusing Ken of sleeping with Vegas. Which he is btw. But that's beside the point lol.

🌝 Who is one character you haven’t yet written for that you would like to?

Considering the rest of the content of my blog you absolutely could not guess this but yeah! Chan...........? the last few weeks I've suddenly been gripped with a bunch of swirling thoughts about his relationships with the three main family boys, with Big who also grew up in the household and how he's not allowed to pick a favourite bodyguard (big) or a favourite sibling (kim). Plus all the nuances of his loyalty to Korn and interactions with the minor household as well.

Chan + Vegas' dynamic particularly fascinates me! Vegas often uses english as a show of status: to include his family and exclude lower ranking bodyguards who are primarily thai speakers (eg. speaking english with macau at the dinner table, speaking english to Porsche and using weird idioms to throw him off balance). In ep 14 he pointedly says 'know your place!' in english to Chan. To any other bodyguard it would be another layer of pulling rank but Chan is acting on Korn's behalf and completely fluent in english so the effect is competely different, as is his response. There's a kind of implied superiority that Chan is immune to, both because of his proximity to Korn, AND because of his fluency in english. IDK if I've explained that well at ALL but there's something super interesting there ✨ Point being: Chan's english fluency vs Vegas' pointed use of english my beloved.

Also I joke about him and Gun giving "divorced" energy, but I feel like ChanGun has the exact same energy I love from KenBig but with even more hatefucking and complex ranks and loyalties. I am entering my Dilf4Dilf divorce era it seems. Rotating them in my mind as we speak.

🖊 Post a snippet from a current WIP.

I'm currently reworking the first chapter of my KimChay which starts with Tankhun and Chay bonding hours! Chay's trying to get Tankhun to let him learn self defence and Tankhun is deflecting.

“What-?” Chay says, momentarily distracted. Khun pounces. “Yes! Robots, I helped him build them, you know! It was like a video game! No need to learn fighting when you can shoot with the computer or make explosions from the safety of your safe room! They were so helpful when- Owh. I don't want to talk about it actually.” “When what?” “I’m bored of this topic now, it’s not interesting to me anymore.” “P’Khuuun,” Chay whines, hopping up onto the dresser and trying more and more ridiculous angles to lean himself into Tankhun’s eyeline as he dips and dodges around Chay’s encroaching face. Chay eventually gives up and grabs hold of his wrist, the way he does with Porsche, the way he did with-  Khun startles and tenses, wide eyed, milliseconds from snatching it away.  “Sorry-” Chay starts, removing his hands, but Tankhun’s arm stays frozen in mid air for a moment before he comes back to himself. Chay watches in the mirror as Khun settles his expression, when he’s satisfied he turns to look up at Chay. Level. His smile is soft but his eyes are blank. Chay’s seen that mask before. “It's fine,” Tankhun says quickly, it sounds clipped and strange. His smile is bright as a camera flash and gone just as quickly. “Could you- in my closet-” He frowns, “You should swap the jackets. You forgot one. I picked it out for you and you forgot it and now your outfit is all wrong. Go and fix it-” he clicks his fingers “Pol. Help him fix it now.” Pol nods, smiling at Chay and walking them back through the wardrobe doors. He beats Chay to the jacket and crouches to pick it up from where it was slumped on the floor. Chay reaches out to take it, suddenly desperate to leave and go back to Tankhun, to fix things, to apologise and tell him he was right and that the jackets do look better the other way around. Pol doesn’t let go. “Hold on, he needs a moment sometimes,”

It all ends up ok in the end! Tankhun is fine really!

In my mind Chay has very much latched on to Tankhun as a stabilising presence (which Tankhun has revelled in because very few people trust him that way). Tankhun is able to support Chay because he just inherently understands a lot of what Chay's going through, but because Khun is so overwhelmingly supportive, sometimes Chay forgets that the root of the understanding is that Tankhun is still traumatised too.

BUT it is fine. And crucially after he calms down, Khun doesn't let Chay shrink and go all apologetic and pliant the way he does when Porsche feels bad. Chay is allowed to feel bad for hurting Tankhun without that requiring him giving up all his autonomy and reasonable requests. I think that's a pretty important thing for Chay to learn - and that theme of autonomy becomes important in his conversations with Kim later!

THANKS SO MUCH FOR ASKING LOVELY LOVELY EGG!!

[void-botanist]

Okay I wanna ask you Blorbo wrapped questions back lmao. I'm also curious about who you thought was coolest, who you rotated in your head the most and who was most fun to write. But also, did you have anyone that was kinda driving you up a wall but then something clicked and you really figured out how to write them? If not, who's still driving you up a wall?

Kendrick! I think you saw that I got too excited and answered my own questions over here but who has been driving me up a wall is an excellent question, lol. There are a few who aren't actively driving me up a wall (what's up with Aza huh) but the people who I still haven't got a hold on are Declan, Horatio, and Sid.

I'm almost hesitant to say Declan because I don't think I have a hard time writing him but I also feel like I haven't fully keyed into the fact that he's an autism creature of a man (and also making it clear that the way the rest of the crew does things behind his back is not them infantilizing him because of it but more complicated than that. They do think he's fragile but that's because of how he's handled his grief). Also like. He literally trusts his crew with his life. But he is so so bad at talking to them and I haven't totally figured out how that all works out.

Oops this got long so here's a cut

Horatio got a character lift in this version. He's always been a sweetheart but that evolved out of him having A Sense Of Justice while also being generally pathetic and wet and soft. Now he has the Standing family deviousness that goes along with it and I don't know how to write that. Because also he looks completely different to Sid, who knows him very well and who he's open with, than he does to Avis, who hates him somewhat for the circumstances of his birth (she tries not to because it's not his fault) but extremely much for being sun-coded in the "cheerful" and "unavoidable and intense" ways. So like, what is he plotting (especially about getting Sorian and Avis back together) and how is he plotting it and how does this dovetail with the happy-go-lucky florist which is equally as much who he is?

Sid on the other hand is challenging in the sense that writing him feels fine. He's a real everyman if you will. Except I don't get his character and I think that's a major stumbling block for AOM as a whole. Yeah, on some level he has to be the sad traumatized guy but like. How does he handle his parents trying to run his life once he takes a massive step outside of their frame of reference? How does this work with Avis's story? (Can I successfully shove these two stories into one thing that is a whole? They have so many themes in common help) In his earliest iterations he was the devil-may-care I'm-doing-my-best guy who mildly tormented Horatio Sense Of Justice and I guess they've sort of flipped? Except Sid is always the Doing My Best guy.

Also when it comes to Anni and Zel, Anni is so easy to write with all the technical stuff and much more challenging with the romance stuff and I don't want it to be that way aaaaaaa

As for who did click, I think I'm getting there with Patience (even though I haven't worked on TFA in a while), Rodney worked better when I just let him be soft, working out Fay's whole divorce history helped make her easier to write (she's not pretending to be the good suburban mom. she just is sometimes and other times she sucks), the fact that Wylie hates himself cracked his whole character wide open, and lately I've realized that a critical part of post-divorce Sorian is that he's tired. He's tired of Avis needling him, always being there but never being there for him. He's not even sure he deserves for her to be. But he kinda wishes she would just leave and move on so he can too.

[phoenixwatchesmovies]

What I'm Watching: November 2023

The Fall of the House of Usher

Sycrhjodxfhbaudiffebuvehtxt I'm obsessed with this show. So far, this is the first and only Mike Flanagan adaptation where I was familiar with the source material already, and it was a fucking BLAST playing Spot The Reference. Additionally, the conclusion of the rave scene has been burned into my memory ever since and I cannot for the life of me get it out of my head, in the best and worst way possible. Sooooooo good, but oh my fucking god. And it's been a long time coming, but this series has elevated Carla Gugino for me to Rachel Weiss meme status. You know the one I'm talking about. I just.... THIS SHOW IS SO FUCKING GOOD. The writing, the story, the performances, the cinematography, the scares, the all of it. It's split down the middle between stuff you can point and go "ha! I knew it!" and stuff you just can't see coming, and it's all top tier. I typically need a cool down period to recover after most Flanagan stuff, but I'm just itching to get back to this one as soon as possible. Is a good amount of that just me thirsting over Verna? Well, yeah. It's pretty much Gugino's show, and everyone else merely appears in it. Actually, that's not fair. Everyone involved not only fucking went for it, they fucking nailed it. This is Mike's last run with Netflix, and by god, the whole team went out with a bang.

Cowboy Bebop (2021)

Let me start by saying that my post mentioning how much I wanna bang Spike went as viral as things tend to go on this blog, so I'm glad that resonated with some folks. 😂 I'll admit, I have a lot less nostalgia for the anime as a lot of the audience for this, having only seen it twice, but as far as adaptations go, this was perfectly okay. As someone pointed out already on one of my posts, it's a lot less existential than the OG, and therefore a lot less heavy. And since all I wanted out of this was a good time, I was happy with it. I was EXTREMELY happy with the opening credits in particular. My stance on adaptations in general is that if a piece can stand on its own merit, I don't care how closely it adheres to the source material, and in my opinion, the live action succeeds. In fact, my one and only complaint is...not enough Ein!

Anne With An E

The books stay in my reading rotation, so despite my philosophy on adaptations, I had very high expectations going into this several years late, don't worry about it. And...I was not disappointed. I ended up crying over almost every episode, and that never happens, so... 😅 It's so sweet and I was charmed from the get-go. I've still got a season left, and since it seems to be doing its own thing apart from the books now, I'm really looking forward to it. I'm also dreading it, because I'm not ready for it to be over. Then again, that's how it feels finishing the books as well, so that's only how it should be.

Five Nights At Freddy's

Lemme tell you, I've known jack shit about FNAF aside from "evil Chuck E. Cheese" for years now. I've had the tags filtered for almost as long as I've been on Tumblr (I love the people I follow, but I gotta curate my experience). I've made it my mission to go as long as I can without knowing anything at all about this franchise if for no reason other than it's fucking e v e r y w h e r e and I was sick of the overexposure. But now because a relative of an acquaintance of a family friend was one of the cannon fodder characters, I got roped into watching this and my streak is broken. I can't unknow what I know about this franchise. Which I'm extra annoyed about, considering what the creator of the games tends to put his royalties towards. 😑 From a film standpoint, it's fine. I'm not sure what age range the target demographic is, but having the horror stuff happen off screen made it feel more vanilla than the average episode of Supernatural, and I'll let that speak for itself. The look and atmosphere were exactly what I'd imagine if told to picture an evil Chuck E. Cheese, the animatronics are appropriately creepy (though let's be honest, it doesn't take much to make ANY animatronic creepy), and I was a little surprised and impressed with the soundtrack. And it was nice to see Josh Hutcherson in something new, though it's still so odd seeing him as an adult. I'm most familiar with him as a kid in RV, and holy fuck, I feel old looking at him now. I could have used a little more Matthew Lillard--why would you get Matty Lilly in your movie and then NOT do something with him?!--but given the character/story/what have you, I get it. One plot point in particular didn't stick the landing, as far as I'm concerned. In an effort to tie up all loose ends, it made things too contrived in a "that's convenient but now it makes less sense" kind of way. Don't know if that's how it goes in the game, and I don't care enough to find out. All in all, I've seen worse, I still don't get the hype, and I'm still not the target audience. And that's perfectly okay.

Guillermo del Toro's Cabinet Of Curiosities

A horror anthology? With GDT?? Sign me up yesterday! I don't think there was a single episode I didn't like. And I wasn't prepared to recognize so many names in the credits. Actors, directors, composers, authors, you name it. And it was fun! The stories were bizarre, assorted creature designs were gnarly, and whatever else was going on with the vibes episode to episode, they all felt consistently creepy and sinister. "The Autopsy" has the distinction of being one of the few things I've watched that almost made me puke. "Pickman's Model" was the first thing to freak me out bad enough I stayed awake to get it out of my head in a Very Long Time. "The Viewing" was the only ending that felt unfinished, it was so abrupt, but the style and aesthetic was so *chef kiss* I'll overlook it. (Side note: that episode's director also did Mandy, which I've been meaning to get to for awhile now? Hoo hoo, have I got some visuals to look forward to!) I knew as soon as I saw Jennifer Kent did an entry that hers was going to be my favorite, and that's not even coming from a biased place. "The Murmuring" is beautiful and heartbreaking. Easily my favorite aspect of the series is how you get a sense of each individual director's style BUT the entries themselves are so flavored with GDT, the whole thing stays cohesive. Now all I can do is hope for another season. :D