#this is the gabe that I was going to put in the background of my precious post

[themachine]

[felassan]

Snippets. 🐺💜

Corinne: "PC has been a priority for us! It’s heartening to see so many PC champions on the team working hard to make this a great experience" [source]

Corinne: "Enjoy shield-bashing and drop-kicking hurlocks off the ramparts! Don’t forget to toss that shield around too" [source]

User: "I love that they chose a no mage party to showcase. 😂 The two companions thing had me a little worried that I’d have to take a warrior and a mage into battle with my Rook rogue all the time." / Corinne: "We know players get attached to certain characters, so while there are benefits to having one of each class, it’s completely viable and intended that you can find synergies with a variety of party comps" [source]

Each Background has a specific last name, very much inspired by the approach in Origins [source]

Corinne: "We’ve put a lot of effort into ensuring our gameplay and customized difficulty options allow players to find something comfortable and engaging for themselves. I’m sure you’ll do great! It was one of the biggest challenges in designing the combat system, as we know the Dragon Age player-base has a wide range of motivations and expectations." [source]

Corinne mentioned to a user who said that they prefer a warrior/mage experience but without all the slash and spin of rogue attacks that they might enjoy the Warrior Reaper spec [source]

Hrungr noticed that it looks like you can hide your armor as well as your helmet [source]

Mary: "True fact: For the longest time, in the DA writers' pit, we had "It has been __ (usually 0) days since someone mentioned cannibalism" on the whiteboard." [source]

Gabe, posting the release date reveal trailer: "My friends, I have made an effort to avoid shilling too much here so that when I do, it'll be worth it. I love this game and the team that brought it to life so much." [source]

Bryce: "if I may workpost for a sec, I'm forever grateful for days like today when I get to gush about dragon age with the fans this community is so welcoming and my heart is so full today 💜" [source]

The ray-tracing NVIDIA video from earlier this week that showed mage combat was showing early-on mage combat [source]

Blair: "the achievement names include some personal career highlights for me." [source]

Trick on the podcast: "The [DA:TV game] writers were pretty tapped with other stuff at the time, sadly, but I think it came together great." [source]

Though neither option is wrong or evil, making Cole more human in DA:I leaves him sadder [source]

John: "honestly it’s a very strange feeling to go from a half decade of ‘dragon age? maaaaybe we’re making a new one? tee hee’ to actually being able to talk about it" [source]

John: "been busy all day so I just got to read some of the reactions to the DATV combat showcase. I am incredibly proud of this team and I’m thrilled to see people excited about it. even after spending every day with it for the last 5 years I still love playing it." [source]

John: "being creative director means i work with pretty much every single department and team on the project. everyone brings creativity and innovation to their roles and the project would be nothing without them (and it)" [source]

John: "am I playing our game for fun on a Friday night, I certainly am. romancing my own companion to do one last check to make sure all the conditionals work. folks it is a very strange thing" [source, two]

[holy-puckslibrary]

━ 𝐬𝐰𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠.

main masterlist

pairing(s) — JT COMPHER x reader (main); TYSON JOST x reader (side); COMPHER x JOST (brief) wc — 14k synopsis — what's a reunion without some groveling?

note — this takes place a few of years after part one, go out with a bang (post-college/college au — tyson and kate are now out-going seniors!) sorry not sorry for the length of this behemoth, i got carried away per usual <3 there are more parts to come, and i would absolutely love to hear any theories/predictions if yall have any!

specific content warnings listed below the cut.

cw — cameos on cameos on cameos, we're at a party so drinking and mention of dr*gs + yacking (no description), drinking games, sorority terms/processes, me getting too invested in multiple subplots and potential background ships, soft!service!dom!JT makes my peabrain go brrrrr, everybodies a bit masochistic because i, registered heathen, am masochistic, reader’s wearing a short skirt for plot reasons, slight compher x josty, oral (reader receiving 2x), unprotected piv (i know, i know, i know i need help), me letting my brat self take the kink reins, praise baby praise, angst AND IM NOT SORRY, + happy fluffy bits... possible cliffhanger??? 

Staring up at the Alpha Chi house is like stepping back in time. 

Like trying on an old pair of shoes you found while deep-cleaning your closet only to find their once-perfect fit gone. Growth is funny that way; you never realize just how far you’ve come until it pinches you.

You’ve outgrown this place, though not from a lack of love or any great tragedy. It occupies a different place in your mind, just as you’re a different person than you were three years ago. 

Your younger self would balk at this development, wouldn’t believe it’d one day feel too small. You can’t fault her for that near-sightedness. In college, your whole world existed on one street. You had everything you needed then between two stop signs.

But your world is bigger now, and your needs are different too. 

Still, it feels good to try on your past for the night. Even if it's a tad ill-fitting. 

The drive between your new life and your old one hadn’t been too bad, but that’s probably because you didn’t do much of said driving. JT got the engine going before you could even make a grab for the keys and, despite spending the last year in the literal trenches of clinical rotations and shelf exams, refused to switch at the halfway mark. Yet, your boyfriend is practically vibrating with excitement as you cross the all-too-familiar threshold hand-in-hand. 

“This is so weird,” JT remarks, his lips low to your ear. His musky cologne, warm and woody, does its best to soothe your nerves.

As you survey the crowd, you nod. 

He didn’t need to elaborate further for you to understand because you were already thinking the very same thing. Watching students, the vast majority as unfamiliar to you as you are to them, milling around your old haunt stirs an odd, uncanny feeling akin to a surreal dream. You’re well-acquainted with the setting, almost to an uncomfortable degree, and you don’t think you’re all that different, but everything still feels foreign.

All the right pieces are there, and you’re sure you’ve put them in their proper places, but the image won’t behave.

You quickly realize the only thing that’s misplaced is you. Grief hangs from your back like a wet blanket. 

“Look what the cat dragged in, boys!”

A burst of riotous laughter shakes much of the gloom from your system.

Gabe Landeskog barrels into your boyfriend like an overgrown puppy. Gray-blue eyes twinkling under the rainbow of LEDs, he embraces you both in a warm hug, not minding that the spontaneous act of affection has just cost him an entire Solo cup.

“Compher and the missus,” the blonde addresses you both with a wide grin and a big palm to a cheek each; he gives JT’s a quick pat but merely cups yours. 

His breath still smells of spearmint and something spicy, an imposing combination your eighteen-year-old self could never find comforting. Just another thing that's different now. If you could package the scent for all the little moments of nostalgia, you would. 

“I was starting to think we’d have to drag you from the city kicking and screaming, but alas! You've left the cozy, vanilla bubble of your own volition for a weekend of debauchery with your favorite degenerates.”

JT’s affectionate eye-roll is big and dramatic even in your periphery. The levity brings a smile to your face. It grows wider and wider, enduring until your cheeks burn. If anyone deserves some light-heartedness, it's your sleep-deprived, perpetually-stressed boyfriend.

“A night, Landy. We’ve got to be back by tomorrow night to relieve the dog sitter,” your boyfriend amends with a pat to Gabe’s flushed cheek, returning the favor. 

The older man groans like the overgrown boy he is and will always be. “Look at you, Mr. Responsible. All domestic and shit. With a fur-baby and everything. I bet it’s as well-trained as your firstborn.”

Your eyes follow the line drawn by Gabe’s strong chin past the entryway through to the room used for table-top drinking games.

Half-kneeling on the rickety table you helped customize a few years back is Tyson Jost, head tilted to the sky as he guzzles down the center cup. More beer spills down his chest than into his mouth, effectively turning his white tee sheer. The crowd is comprised mostly of giddy sorority girls who don't mind a bit. 

Free booze and a free show—lucky them!

Once the plastic cup is empty, he crushes it in his palm before sinking the balled plastic into the basketball hoop on the adjacent wall. The converted dining room swells with hoots and hollers so quickly you would’ve thought Tyson emerged from some mythic quagmire, blood-soaked and victorious. But there are no winners in Rage Cage; everybody loses.

Tyson’s loopy grin falters when he registers you and JT on either side of Gabe.

You would like to say nothing’s changed between the three of you over the past couple of years. That you’re just as close as you’d been in college, that distance hadn’t done as much damage as it has.

You'd be lying if you did. 

You tried your best to keep him in the loop; you really did, but that didn’t end up mattering much.

JT hardly had time to socialize with you most of the time, and you’ve practically lived together since graduation. He, like you, tried, but at some point, his bandwidth could no longer accommodate Tyson’s sporadic texts and calls. Many of which came in the dead of night, when your boyfriend’s head was either buried in a textbook or in the pillow beside yours.

Whenever you could, you invited the forward to spend the weekend in the city with the two of you. You even went so far as to offer to put him up in a hotel between your and JT’s respective apartments, knowing your adult salary could stretch further than the Atomic tips he was splitting with Tyler. He always had something conflicting going on, and it didn't feel like your place to question the authenticity of his reasons, so you just kept extending the invitation, hoping things would align eventually.

After finally taking the leap and signing a lease together, you decorated the guest room with Tyson in mind. He’s yet to see it, still.

Your little Kate, on the other hand, needs a frequent flyer program.

A small part of you felt this shift was inevitable once JT went from best friend-slash-unrequited crush to full-blown, live-in boyfriend. Despite Tyson’s insistence on you finally hooking up and “putting everyone out of their misery,” his smile didn’t meet his eyes when JT broke the news that it wasn’t a one-night thing.

Maybe his “little crush” hadn’t been so little after all. 

If that’s the case, you can't blame him for avoiding your slice of grown-up love like the plague. It just would've been nice if he hadn't left you in the dark, wondering where and how you fucked up enough to get iced out.

Tyson responded to every third or so text of yours, so you mostly kept up with him and his life through Kate, who briefly dated him between ill-fated Gunnar stints, and social media. You weren’t sure how often he spoke to JT; after several attempts that ended with your boyfriend clammed up and irritated, you stopped asking.

Judging by how tense he is beside you right now, you have a pretty good guess.

“Yikes,” Gabe drawls. “Trouble in paradise?”

You remain carefully quiet, allowing your boyfriend to decide what, if anything, to share. This—whatever it is —feels like it's more so between them two than Tyson and yourself.

JT clears his throat so hard it cuts through the music blaring through the packed house—some remix you don’t remember learning the words to. “Trouble? Nah, Josty’d have to give us the time of day for that.” 

Gabe laughs, but you know JT isn’t trying to be funny. You can taste the undercurrent of bitter resentment. It’s impossible not to without an artificial buzz.

There’s no time to dwell because a flurry of red hair darts through the crowd dispersing out of the dining room and straight into your arms. A fresh, but faintly-candied scent tickles your nose as the cool metal of a bracelet digs into your neck. 

Kate.

“Fuckin finally!” The almost-grad squeals directly into your ear.

Definitely drunk. Or high—or both. 

“Don’t look at me,” you say, beaming when she pulls back. “I wasn’t driving.”

Kate swats JT’s chest with her open palm. “And this is why we don’t let you drive anywhere, Grandpa.”

The playful jab makes your smile deepen. His driving made her tardy to a ZBZ charity gala one time over a year ago when she made the mistake of hitching a ride with you, and she’s probably brought it up a million times since. Kate pretends to hold a grudge, JT pretends to find it aggravating, and you get to sit back, enjoying the warm camaraderie overfilling your cup.

The pair have been friends almost as long as you've been friends with either of them, but since your graduation, they’ve settled into something more serious and more genuine. Where your connection to Tyson wilted outside the conveniences of college, your relationship with Kate matured and flourished. She’s more than just your chapter-appointed Little Sister to JT now, having become more of a true sister than anything else. Hence the juvenile teasing.

“Well, we’re here now. Alive.”

Your little snatches your hand in hers, tugging you away from JT, who feigns offense.

“And now I’m stealing your girlfriend in retribution for making me wait. Go do… whatever it is you two heathens used to do at parties. We have a pong title to defend.”

“Excellent idea, Madame President,” Gabe declares, hands roughly massaging the male ginger’s shoulders. He tosses a wink in Kate’s direction.

Before the other ginger can drag you away for good, your boyfriend catches your free wrist, pulling you back to him so his lips can find your ear. Breath hot, he drops his voice an octave, “President’s bathroom. One hour. Nod if you understand.”

Your chin dips, quick and subtle confirmation.

“Good girl.”

As your respective keepers separate you, JT shoots you a wink of his own. Then, you lose him in the crowd.

Kate leads you through the sea of party-goers to the living room, her grip on you tight and comforting. Her thumb rubs small circles on the inside of your wrist as you approach the table, almost as if privy to your worry. Kate is incredibly perceptive; she can read someone’s mind without even looking at them. With you, her Spidey senses transcend county lines, so it’s no real surprise she deduced your current condition from no more than your erratic pulse thumping against her palm. 

When you reach the bustling folding table commandeered for the BP tournament, Kate does all the talking.

It’s not too hard to get on the bracket despite the late entry with two newly-minted Alpha Chi brothers manning the post. The absolute last thing they want to do is get on the bad side of the president of their sister chapter (Kate) and the girlfriend of a legendary former chapter president (you). The pairs for the current game are only a couple of throws in, so it’s going to be at least ten minutes before it's your turn.

“You, my dear, look thirsty,” Kate declares through a mischievous grin.

You let her pull you towards the kitchen across the hall but have more difficulty than you expect actually getting there. Every few steps, someone stops either you or Kate. Mostly the latter, but she’s quick to show you off to whoever’s trying to seize her attention. Apparently, Kate’s been building quite the mythos of your time on campus, and it’s very… dizzying, to say the least.

“Kit-Kat!”

Kate abandons the poor freshman boy shooting his shot (and missing fantastically) in favor of the feminine voice sliding into the conversation.

In the blue-ish hue washing over the small space, you’re having a hard time placing her, but she seems very keen on making your acquaintance.

“Blake Meyers,” the newcomer announces, extending her hand with a smile.

You take it, giving her your name and a matching expression in return. The flattened vowels are distinct and recognizable, as is the last name. 

“Meyers?” you ask, attempting to work it out.

“Ava’s younger sister,” Kate interjects. “And one of our best steals this past recruitment.”

Blake blushes so brightly her freckles disappear.

You remember that feeling. What it was like to have an older member, especially someone as established and accomplished as an outgoing ZBZ president, go out of their way to make you feel special. You have zero doubt Blake will be walking on air for the foreseeable future, any of the common little doubts about whether or not she made the right choice vanishing.

“I was really hoping I’d get to meet you tonight,” the freshman tells you bashfully. “Kate gave the most beautiful speech about you and your legacy on Preference Night, and when she told me you might be coming with your boyfriend, I had to put a face to the name. And Jenny was the one who pref-ed me, so it seemed like—I don’t know, a non-negotiable?”

Jenny is one of the twins Kate took her junior year, and she couldn’t have picked better. It gave you peace of mind knowing your Kate would have good people around her once you couldn’t physically be there for her.

You won’t be surprised if Jenny takes Blake as her little. Kate pref-ed her, and before that, you pref-ed Kate. It’s basically a family tradition.

Not long after you thank Kate for her generous words and Blake for her kindness, Thomas, one of the new initiates in charge of the beer pong table, flags you down for your game. Not ready to end your conversation, invigorated by the breezy, jovial chatter your new life lacks, you tug Blake along with you.

Between exceptionally beautiful throws (if you do say so yourself), you learn more about Blake and her roommate and fellow ZBZ spring initiate, Emory. They pepper you with questions: about your first-year college experience, advice on getting the best room possible on the sophomore floor for mandatory live-in, whether or not you got anything particularly valuable in the various leadership positions you held, and what fraternities to steer clear of. You’re more than happy to answer them all. Kate sprinkles in comments and jokes occasionally, but she mostly defers to you so she can celebrate the end of a smooth second term as president.

Once Kate and you have successfully defended your title, you pass the torch to the future of your chapter. Blake and Emory make quick work of the first challengers and are close to a similar sweep with the second pair when your little remembers her earlier mission: refreshments.

This time, you both keep your heads ducked as you speed through the dancing bodies and make a beeline for the dinged-up lockers propped against the wall. You can’t help but smile when you see her reach for the lock—your old lock.

Every upperclassman (and a few select friends of the chapter, like Alpha Chi Sweethearts such as Kate and, once upon a time, yourself) is assigned a secure, personal locker in the oversized kitchen for quick access to personal items. During parties, they essentially become personal coolers. At your very last formal chapter meeting, you will-ed the hunk of metal down to Kate, along with the more sentimentally valuable items you wanted to leave behind with her.

“Wait, can you even drink?” Kate asks you from where she’s kneeling. Sarcasm scrunches her brows together.

“Hilarious,” you reply with a playful glare. “And before you loudly ask about the non-existent fetus like the devious bitch you love being, don’t. Unless you want to give JT an aneurysm."

Kate fishes out two slim, chilled cans as she grumbles about how boring you two have become in your “old age.” She shoves a ratty sweatshirt—an old favorite of Tyson’s—back into the small locker, quickly refastens the lock, and scrambles the dial. Then, she returns to her full height beside you.

“So, do you want to tell me what that wink from Gabe was about?” you ask, brow cocked.

“Do you want to tell me what your horndog of a boyfriend whispered in your ear?” Kate counters.

“Touché.”

Kate cracks open a Spindrift Spiked and slots it into your waiting palm. She taps the rim with her own, then sighs back against the cluttered kitchen island. She’s going to crack, you know it. Kate, even when she has a secret she wants to keep, never stays quiet for long. Especially not when you’re the one doing the asking.

“Okay, so, d’you remember how Tyson was, like, completely apathetic after we broke up right before Heaven & Hell last Halloween?”

You nod, recalling how irritated she was over FaceTime while you helped her pick a costume out of your box of hand-me-downs. You did your best not to laugh because Kate was clearly distressed, but it was kind of hard not to when she was buried in a heap of red and white feathers, wearing a too-small tutu dotted with rhinestones.

Kate takes a sip of the spiked strawberry lemonade before elaborating, “Well, I was understandably pissed—Don’t give me that look, okay? I know I broke up with him, but he shouldn’t have been that blasé that soon—so, I hatched a plan.”

You shake your head, laughing. Kate and her schemes.

“I wasn’t planning on taking Gabe as my date, but when I ran into him at Atomic the day before… I don’t know; I just couldn’t resist. I mean, Tyson worships the man. If anyone’s getting a reaction, it’s Landy. I had to.”

“And?” you prod. 

“And…” she stalls, eyes darting around the kitchen in search of pesky eavesdroppers, cheeks lit up like a Christmas tree. “…we might’ve done it in the backseat of his truck.”

“I’m scared to ask where.”

She buries her face in your shoulder. “The venue’s parking lot.”

Your eyes bulge so hard you, for a split-second, worry they’ll pop out of your head onto the sticky hardwood and land amongst the discarded cans.

“And I didn’t tell you because I was so scared you and JT would hate me,” Kate moans into your skin. She shifts to peer up at you, hesitant. “You don’t, right?”

“I don’t think I’m even capable of hating you, Katie-Kat, let alone for something as silly as banging a hot blonde,” you giggle, and she’s quick to join you. Lowering your voice, “Especially the hottest of hot blondes.”

“I’m so telling JT you said that,” she teases, pulling away.

You shrug and take your first sip. “Go ahead. He’ll agree.”

“And this is why you’re my favorite couple,” she says, bumping her hip against yours. “The worst part is Tyson didn’t even care about that either! At the post-game, when he saw my lipstick smeared all over Gabe’s neck, he high-fived him. Tyson fucking high-fived him for screwing me. His ex-girlfriend! How supremely demented is that?”

“I wish I had an explanation for you, but I don’t. I’m starting to think I didn’t know him as well as I thought I did.”

Kate takes hold of your unoccupied hand and squeezes it three times.

“I’m guessing things haven’t gotten any better?”

You shake your head, eyes downcast like there’s something super interesting between the floorboards. “I know he’s busy, and we’re busy, but he’s acting like our friendship meant nothing.”

“Not to start a therapy session in the middle of a rager, but did you... did you ever actually talk about That Night? I know you said JT whispered, but how positive are you that Josty didn't hear him?"

A few months after That Night, your guilt was on the brink of hemorrhaging. It was only a matter of time before the other shoe dropped; you broke down in the middle of Talladega Nights. Fucking Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby. All fat tears and snotty, incoherent spiraling, your chest heaved as JT rubbed your back. He was quiet, more concerned than confused, until you calmed down enough to explain what’d been weighing on your conscience. 

Then, your boyfriend looked clueless—because he was. JT didn’t remember his heat-of-the-moment pseudo-promise to taint Josty’s image of you.

After a scene or two, you broached the subject you’d both been avoiding since getting together. You wanted to apologize, and not that you needed JT’s permission, but you felt it wasn’t entirely your amends to make. He agreed but was adamantly opposed to operating on assumption alone. If Tyson was truly upset by the pillow talk he overheard, JT reasoned, he was old enough to be frank about it.

You found yourself agreeing, but also not? On the one hand, you could see this being an instance of your anxious mind making a mountain out of a molehill, finding fault where there’s none. But you knew Tyson, and you knew how sensitive he could be. 

Something shifted that night. You’d known then, too, even in the hazy afterglow. His despondency wasn’t subtle, and it wasn’t uncommon for his dejected expression—his forced smile dipped in feigned nonchalance—to visit you in therapy sessions or in your nightmares.

But every time you typed and re-typed one remorseful novel after another, every time your gun-shy thumb hovered over his contact, every time you nearly drove out to your alma mater to track him down… You couldn’t get yourself to see it through. 

At first, it was the nerves, the fear of hearing his pain and seeing his anger. Then, it was your own temper, stoked by indignation, that rose with every sign of withdrawal. Now, it’s just plain, garden-variety sadness.

It was—is disappointing how cleanly he severed ties. There one day and gone the next, no blow-out fight or melancholic hear-to-heart. Tyson was there; he was within reach, but at the same time, not at all. The casual dismissal is worse than outright rejection; the door ajar but wholly uninviting.

"In the moment, I was certain he didn’t. Now? Fuck, the percentage drops every time I replay it in my head,” you murmur, remorse bogging down your confession. "I know you made a point not to bring it up when you were together, but did he ever, I don’t know, say anything?"

Kate shakes her head. "No, sorry. But it's not like we actually did much talking anyway."

You snort despite your woes.

“Alright, that’s enough doom and gloom for one night. How’s my nephew?” Kate asks, bright smile chasing the blues away with all its might.

It’s a distraction and a good one, too. She listens intently as you prattle on about the bi-weekly training sessions you’re starting next month to help with the leash pulling and the ridiculous pet parents you’ve met at the dog park near your apartment. She inquires about the fluffy lamb she brought over the last time she stayed with you—it lasted all of a day in his over-excited grip—then gushes over another variation she saw last week while getting litter for Salem, her diabolical tuxedo cat.

By the time Kate has your phone in her hand, swiping through the designated album and asking more questions than each picture really warranted, you’re feeling a bit better.

Noticing the clock, you stumble through a totally-not-suspicious excuse to venture upstairs—alone. Kate shoots you a knowing look but doesn’t give you a hard time. To be honest, she’s just glad you came tonight. Instead of a witty jab or half-hearted guilt trip, she slips a gold foil square into your unsuspecting palm and sends you on your way with a supportive swat to the rear.

Access to the second floor during parties is typically mediated by two to three gatekeepers, depending on the scale and projected rowdiness of each gathering. Three’s the magic number tonight: two up-and-coming juniors and an outgoing senior. They grant you passage with little more than a nod of acknowledgment.

“What? No riddle this time?” you tease over your shoulder.

The senior, an engineering major with a penchant for brain teasers, answers with a hoot. Cale Makar shakes his head, both amused and flattered you remembered his signature move. His puppy crush on you is an open secret. “I was given strict instructions to ‘keep the shenanigans’ to a minimum with you, Your Majesty.”

“JT?” you venture a guess, hand paused on the paint-chipped banister. He’s the only one who still sprinkles in the silly nickname these days.

“Landy, actually.”

Well, close enough.

You shouldn’t be surprised. It wouldn’t be the first time the former chapter president enlisted Cale, his little, to assist in your and JT’s more salacious antics.

As soon as Gabe had the defenseman under his wing, he was putting him to work. Not that the younger blonde particularly minded, as his affinity for creative, slightly devious schemes rivaled that of Kate’s. It was Cale, you later found out, who ran interference during Semi Formal… while you were defiled on the balcony.

“Still doing his bidding, I see.”

He counters with that lopsided “Get Out of Jail Free” grin. “What can I say? The man puts up a mean bribe.”

As if cued, Cale’s companions, who you now recognize as Alex Newhook and Bowen Byram, step into view. In Alex’s raised grip is a case of Labatt Blue, and in each of Bowen’s, a bottle of bottom-shelf cabernet. You doubt the trio would notice or mind the subpar quality, though. Between their happy heads, Cale fists a bottle of champagne you know he’ll misplace before he can polish it off.

“Jesus, how drunk is he?” you tease, the follow-up to an exaggerated gasp.

Sure, the quality’s shit, but their haul is far more valuable than your appraisal of their job; it’s a frat house, not Buckingham Palace.

“Not drunk enough to not see you here with us.” Cale’s voice tapers off, his pale eyes tracking someone stalking down the hall before nervously flicking up to the ceiling, “…and not up there with JTC.”

JTC — Talk about a blast from the past.

An anticipatory tingling erupts between your inner thighs just knowing he’s up there right now waiting for you. This is the part of your “homecoming” that excited you most and had been since the moment your boyfriend pinned the invite from the alumni association onto the fridge.

As blissfully domestic as your life together has become, it lacks the spontaneity your college life had been brimming with. Your sex life could never be categorized as mundane or clinical, but you’re finding it difficult to replicate the adrenaline rush stealing secret moments inherently provided.

Sometimes, in your more (admittedly) desperate moments, you’ve caught your fingers moving beneath the sheets to mindlessly chase the thrill of those fleeting intimacies, despite how awful the constant wondering and wallowing felt then or, maybe because of it, pain and pleasure are uniquely human indulgences sought in equal measure. When intertwined, they’ve been known to satiate masochistic cravings the way a sad movie or a sprawling, high-speed rollercoaster might.

However, this time, your risk-spurned euphoria will be at your own hand. The newfound agency—the ability to choose when, how, or if any risk is involved—has you darting up the stairs with a fire under your soles.

Before you round the corner and disappear down the hall, you make sure to call out, “Thank you for your service!” accompanied by a two-finger mock salute. You don’t stick around to catch their responses, though.

As you make your way down the dim corridor, you run smack into a very giggly Sarah Jones, just shy of your destination. Eyes distant and wide, she attempts to apologize for something—Something about sabotaging the Big-Little pairings your senior spring?—but it’s more bubbles than actual words. You nod along, still not quite sure what you’re accepting an apology for but too antsy to forge ahead to play detective. Your purposeful strides went unnoticed in her cloud of intoxication and nostalgia, but Erik Johnson, who’d been JT’s vice president, mercifully ushers his inebriated fiancé out of your path by the shoulders.

You offer him a faint smile of gratitude as they head in the opposite direction.

Over the music, you faintly hear Sarah begin chattering on about something unrelated, your reunion long forgotten already. You can’t help but chuckle a little on behalf of your younger self, who would’ve gawked at snobbish Sarah Jones drunk and voluntarily slumming it in a ramshackle house on Greek Row. And sporting a rock from a Degenerate on Ice (her nickname for your brother fraternity, not yours), too? That would’ve been the icing. But, the older, more mature, once-weekly-therapy iteration of yourself is happy she’s happy.

Thoroughly amused but happy nevertheless.

As you reach for the tarnished doorknob of the president’s suite, the rickety door flings open to reveal your boyfriend, all flushed cheeks and frenzied eyes.

JT pulls you inside, lips easily taking possession of yours, the heel of his lived-in/loved-on sneaker nudging the door shut. The hinges groan in protest to the rough treatment. Still fussy as ever. This house is a goddamn time capsule, you muse. Neither of you has the patience for benevolence. If it jams, it jams. That’s a future-self problem. Diligence now would only slow you down.

And would a prolonged stay on memory lane really be all that bad?

Your boyfriend cages you so close that when he manages more than panted praise between hot-and-heavy touches, the words barely fit in the gap between your mouths. “I was beginning to think you stood me up, sweetheart.”

The light-hearted accusation is semi-whispered, somewhat hoarse, in the way his voice always sounded when he came home from a long shift at the hospital downtown or post-game at the height of his collegiate career. JT isn’t a hard person to read—downright wolfish when he’s homing in on a target—but the low, raspy tone makes his intent glaring.

Your body thrums with anticipation.

“Never,” you croon back. A breathy moan sweetens your voice, courtesy of the calloused hand inching up the back of your bare thigh, bypassing the hem of your skirt with no effort or resistance. Arms looping around his neck, you make an inquiry: “Is there a reason we’re in your old bedroom instead of, I don’t know, the king-sized bed in the honeymoon suite you insisted we spring for?”

Tufts of faint copper tickle your cheek. Your boyfriend lands a kiss on your crowd-warmed forearm. Then, much to your displeasure, he steps out of the tight embrace.

“Y’know, I remembered something earlier when I was downstairs,” JT supplies in an apparent non-answer.

He guides you, as understanding rises in your mental periphery, through the barely-lit space toward the Jack-and-Jill bathroom between this room and the next. Then, he flicks on the secondary light, the dimmer of the two, before tugging you over yet another threshold. His fingers twitch at his sides, lascivious.

You stare back at him expectantly, vision tunneling as you wait, wait, wait.

The latch might as well have been a starting pistol; the subtle click ringing in your eardrums like the sonic crack of a live round; his breath a plume of smoke from a charged muzzle well beyond its flash point. Pent-up, needy tension burns hot and burns brighter. Residue from the night prior aflame; you, a moth seduced.

JT drives forward. Stalking, like a cat on a bird, until he’s pinned you to the door. His dash was easy, made short and hasty by the starting block eagerness in your dilated eyes.

Mouth descending on your sensitive neck, hips grinding his want into your squirming form, harsh belt buckle nudging just right with each sharp rut.

“There’s still one thing left on my college bucket list.”

He sinks the candor in with his incisors. Not hard enough to break the skin, but that was never his intention. The sting is a reminder. Of your shared past, of his unwavering desire—of who is in charge.

Message received. Loud and clear.

JT leans away to admire his handiwork. One big hand poised at your jaw, and the other braced beside your head, keeping your shyness from blocking the perfect view; you’ve never been able to hide from him and never will.

His curious thumb deviates from the original objective to caress the skin, now splotched violet and angry. Softly, at first, like he’s committing the damage to memory. Then, emboldened by a sudden piercing hiss forcing itself from your throat, JT pushes down on the tender spot. The cruel, unexpected pressure pulls pitiful bleating cries from your undulating chest.

This is no longer an expedition to gather intel; it’s a primal instinct.

For a few moments, he just holds you like this. A cloistered existence made worthwhile by him occasionally digging deeper into the column of your throat, the pressure taking on a raptorial quality. Your boyfriend wears his herald grin at a rakish angle. It unfurls with refined delicacy, an effective diversion for his next endeavor. Breathe like a precision instrument; the sharp phantom-edge fans across the sucked-raw skin with unhurried ease.

There isn’t enough alcohol in your system to dull the twinge — and you’re glad for it. It’d be a crime to dilute a burn this good, this all-consuming. You crumble between him and the door, your world only this big. His name tumbles out with a pulled-candy moan, completely devoid of dignity.

JT’s chest rumbles beneath your clammy palms. “You gonna be a good girl and help me tie up loose ends?”

His strawberry-blonde crown dips to nuzzle your cheek. Hot tongue tracing an experimental line, JT groaning as it does. The muscle trawls for tears you didn’t realize you shed, humming through the pursuit. The low-pitched moan sends a chill straight down your spine right to your toes.

The hand gripping your jaw lowers so his fingers are able to coil themselves around somewhere more advantageous — your neck. Your eyelids flutter, woozy. His firm squeeze, just enough to make everything spin and keep you still, has become blissfully familiar over time, but your breath still hitches like it’s the first.

“Hm, sweetheart? Don’t be rude. I asked you a question.”

Your lips part, a barbed retort to his condescension on your tongue, but all you can push out is the strangled yelp of a wounded animal.

The hand by your temple no longer rests against the door. In the fog, it snuck up under your skirt; JT never meant to get an answer out of you; he just likes to watch you squirm. Likes to have something to reprimand you for.

His nimble fingers dance over the thin, sodden material pulled taut over your heat. Less touching, more hovering. Small, lazy movements that betray how well he can play your body. They float above the tingling bundle of nerves, further movement pending, contingent upon your obedience.

“P-please,” comes your pouted whimper.

“Focus for me, pretty baby. Tell me what I want to hear. Come on, let me make things easy for you. I can feel how badly you want to — and you aren’t in a position to be difficult, are you?”

You give in, and though the words you babble are largely unintelligible, JT’s ultimately satisfied.

“Such a good listener I’ve got myself. But you’re always to eager to please, aren’t you? You might throw stones from behind that tough girl act, but it’s just that: an act. I have a puddle in my hand to prove it.”

His frankness sears your face.

You’ve acquired a tolerance for his raunchy silver tongue through months of close proximity, but the mechanism is shoddy at best. Stalls and misfires galore. Against all odds (said “odds” being his fingertips toying with the edges of fabric between your thighs), you summon up a tawdry retort from the growing arsenal. “Don’t l-let it go to waste, Compher.”

It's not your best work, but much better than the slurred gurgle that preceded it.

He loves how you manage to be any sort of cheeky with him, even with your head swimming, stuttering and all.

“I don’t think it matters, sweetheart. I know there’s no shortage. Plenty more where it came from.”

With your knee, you nudge his hard-on and supply some honey-tongued snark of your own. “Is that your ego, or are you just excited to see me?”

Your boyfriend chokes out short-lived mirth. Then, with an accompanying smile, his tongue presses to the inside of his cheek. Amused, but by the sting of the remark’s undeniable truth, not your cleverness. The protrusion moves just below his bottom lip as he swipes the muscle over his teeth, a half-second sardonic gesture. It calls attention to your impudence without dignifying it with a verbal reply.

His brow lifts to negate any confusion, feigned or otherwise. “Are you going to keep being a brat, or are you going to let me fuck you with my fingers?”

You gulp down your ready-mixed wisecracks.

“Nothing to say now?” JT taunts. “Funny how that works.”

Fuckin’ wisenheimer. His voice is so haughty you have to bite your lip to keep your foot out of your mouth, unwilling to jeopardize your impending pleasure for short-term gratification.

Your boyfriend’s smugness—and your subsequent annoyance—becomes irrelevant when your panties are roughly pushed to the side, and his thick finger slips past your taut entrance. Tip to knuckle in one succinct trust; your startled gasp drowns out the noise rising up through the floorboards.

Hips bucking forward—you just can’t help yourself—you're in search of some friction to marry with the blinding stretch. He’s made the tensile opening accommodate far more in length and thickness, but not like this. Rarely does he create space where there is barely any, having forgone tenderness. Slowly widening a gap with gentle pressure, not demanding room like it’s already his to occupy.

Your surprise drips down his hand.

The bliss—the relief, is palpable. Your head dips into the crook of his neck, and the gravity of the situation felt for the first time.

Before, you didn’t see any substance in a tipsy frat bathroom hook-up. The older you got, the more pointless it seemed, especially with an established, long-term partner. The novelty wasn’t lost on you, of course, but that’s all you’d written it off as.

Countless collegiate nights were spent imagining one like this one. A moment where your inescapable feelings for him would be matched outright. When the pressure of his stifled emotions would build too fast to keep them from boiling over, too mighty in stature. Suddenly overcome by unrequited feelings of his own, unable to uphold all the ridiculous unspoken platonic conventions with the same authority he commands now.

This is important. For your past and present selves. The significance of this overdone, soapy teen drama scenario cannot be overlooked because it underscores the progress you’ve made together. Years of dancing around one another, the unconventional catalyst and nontraditional timeline, every hushed conversation in the wee hours before responsibilities wake, the sleepless nights and the snooze-filled afternoons—this ostensibly clichéd moment is an amalgamation of it all.

One thought rises above the frenzied rest: Was this here all along?

Is this what was waiting on the other side of the aimless pining and the confusion and the hurt?

The journey might’ve been fucking hell, but the view from here is pretty damn heavenly.

Overwhelmed by your epiphany and his dexterous motions, you moan into his skin far louder than your pride would’ve otherwise allowed outside your shared apartment.

His arrogant laughter grates before it really registers. Venom secretes from your salivary glands when it does, but the melted retribution never makes it past your lips. His second finger robs it of the opportunity, and the third sends all thoughts out your ears. The light circles over your clit cloud your vision, nails digging into his jersey-clad back—I’m feeling nostalgic, he’d said. In more ways than one, apparently.

“S’good—wanted this for so long, Compher—k-kept wishing it was you that night, not Miles.”

JT seethes at the admission, curling his fingers until your knees buckle and you’re entirely reliant on him to keep you off the floor. Even as your mind slips further and further away, your hips manage to move in time with his hand. Meeting each stroke with equal hustle and vigor, a clear end goal on the horizon.

Then his thumb drops away, his hand coming to a halt, and he steps back. 

Away.

Frustration pushes the amassed tears waiting in the wings down your cheeks. Emotion runs down your face; a heavy spill indeed.

“I don’t ever want to hear another man’s name outta your mouth when it’s my fingers buried in your pussy.” His jealousy is well-polished. Manicure-smooth, like he’s been maintaining its luster in preparation for this very occasion. "—'specially not the motherfucker that made sure I heard all your pretty sounds through the walls.”

You’d grin if you weren’t so miserable.

That’d been your intention. It wasn’t anything Miles had or did that made him different from the rest of the chapter (who all, at one point or another, tried their luck with JTC’s hot best friend), just simply when he decided to shoot his shot. The only reason you’d been out in the first place was because you reached your breaking point, no longer able to stomach what you felt for JT, and you made sure Miles knew this before you let him call an Uber.

Despite playing for the same team, the pair shared a touch-and-go rivalry. You never knew if the intensity would result in a sweeping victory or an in-house, all-out brawl. If they ever saw eye to eye, you’d of never known. Miles needed no convincing to push JT’s buttons.

There was some heavy petting, nothing more. The only time Miles saw you undress was to change into the pajamas he lent you before knocking out on his futon, leaving you to take the bed. But JT didn’t know that. If sitting in their chapter house’s kitchen at 5 o’clock the next morning didn’t raise suspicion, the non-Compher borrowed t-shirt and ruffled hair certainly did.

Back then, he refused to ask. Even though you could see how badly he wanted to pry. Miles didn’t have anything he worth sharing, so JT was left to fill in the blanks.

You’d tell him the truth later, but right now, you wanted to see what milking his assumptions could get you.

“Did you like what you heard?”

His jaw ticks. Your hips push against his with a knowing simper.

You lean forward, closing the space he forced, lips barely brushing his ear, “Did you get off on it? Fuck your hand picturing yourself in his place… wishing it was my pussy instead?”

You hear the thud before you feel your head against the door or his hand back around your throat, his fingers deep between your walls again. The everywhere-throb makes you laugh. Giggle, really.

He squeezes until you’re no longer capable of mockery. His pace hastens, leveling out only once your thighs have started shaking around his wrist, knees cutting off his circulation elbow-down. Somehow, he keeps going despite the icy tingle. His determination overrides physical discomfort, knowing how close you’re getting. Feeling it in the distinct fluttering around his digits, seeing it in your trembling, swollen bottom lip.

“You’re so full of shit.” His mouth twitches at your throaty moan. A defiant hint of levity circles his pupils; he never stays riled up for long when it’s you yanking his chain. “You’re lucky I love you.”

You kiss him then, messy and crude, love-drunk. He tastes like your chapstick and gin, with a biting citric aftertaste —Grapefruit, maybe?—and you suck it in like you haven’t had a drop of water in days. And, in turn, he drinks down every choked sob and nonsensical half-thought you babble, every drop shooting straight to his loins.

He drives into you with fervor, humming as his tongue slips against yours, iron bulge omnipresent. The hand around your neck loosens but never leaves its post, thumb stroking your pulse point. I know everything about you, his movements whisper. Over and over, in and out. He, just as much as you, gets lost in the repetition.

“Don’t want him, never wanted him. Jus’ you—Always you.” It comes out slurred, mushy like your head, like your heart.

JT’s cock isn’t immune to affirmation and twitches through his too-tight jeans. Groaning, “Go on, sweetheart. Scream my name. I want every single person in this house to know exactly who’s fucking you this good.”

You do just that, writhing on his hand, eventually burying your face into his warm neck when it gets to be too much. He continues fucking you, and you continue crying for him, the pathetic little whimpers muffled now by his body.

JT guides you through the rest of your orgasm, as he always does. He watches your face carefully on the comedown, searching for any sign of regret or discomfort. When he finds none, he cradles your shaking form against his solid chest, the hand that, only moments ago, tore you apart, soothing you back down to earth. Once you’ve settled, he walks you back and away from the door.

A startled yelp falls from your lips when you feel the chilly edge of the countertop. You pull away from your boyfriend, brows furrowing with confusion.

His hand taps the outside of your thigh. "Up."

You’re having a hard time keeping your eyes open, let alone stringing thoughts together, so the command is met with inaction. Impatient as ever, JT wordlessly hoists you where he wants you and sinks down to his knees, big hands cupping yours.

“What’re you doing?” Strained, barely above a whisper.

He stares up at you with dopey, lovestruck eyes. “Come on, Compher. You can gimmie another one, can’t you?”

You aren’t an idiot. Often sleep deprived beyond belief and, more often than not, fucked-out on JT’s… Well, anything—but definitely not an idiot. You knew exactly what that loaded gun of a pet name implied the moment he used it. It first slipped out during a frantic supply closet rendezvous midway through your company’s holiday party, then a few more times in the months after.

It hasn’t lost its sparkle. It does make you more and more impatient each time he flashes it, though.

Fuckin’ tease.

Your fingers burrow in his hair, tugging from the root until his eyelids flutter prettily. “As long as you let me return the favor after—need to taste you so bad.”

“Deal,” he mumbles into your skin a half-second later.

His hands push your already-short skirt up, bunching it atop your hips and out of the way. Your boyfriend takes the time to remove the fabric barrier this time, and you don’t miss the way he tries to slip them into his back pocket without you noticing. Likely because it’d normally be a tease-able offense.

But not tonight, not right now.

Instead, you let a shiver speak for itself. The risqué gesture reminds you of the pair he used as a pocket square when his parents took you two to a celebratory dinner following his white coat ceremony. The rumble of his chuckle tells you his mind went there, too.

JT leans in, big eyes never moving from yours, his warm exhale fanning over your swollen folds. The tooth-marked bruise forming on the side of your throat pricks in tandem response. The action, a repeat of your boyfriend’s earlier antics, naturally yields similar enough results. He catches on, inching forward to—

Something bangs against the door.

His face falls; your heart seizes.

“Occupied!” your boyfriend barks, hands paused but gripping you tightly. He looks like he’s on the verge of exploding.

A full, lilting sound barrels into the door—too-good-to-be-true laughter. His breathy timbre is an unsteady balance of cocksure and skittish; a preference for one side or the other is blurred by the wood in its way. “It’s me, dickhead.”

Then, the curtain is lifted. A pocket of silence ushers in a stillness that cracks like a bolt from the blue.

Shocked doesn’t even begin to cover how you feel right now. You most definitely suffered a concussion somewhere in all JT’s reprimanding; you’re hallucinating right now. That, or the singular seltzer in your system magically turned psychotropic after consumption.

Waiting in the threshold is Tyson Jost. A quarter-drunk fifth of Jack in one hand and that goofy, irrepressible smile plastered on his face. Almost frozen in time—good-humored, untouched. As if nothing’s happened, nothing’s changed. Suave, and standing there like he hasn’t ignored you for months on end, like your and JT’s absence in his life wasn’t felt the way the Tyson-sized void in yours was.

Idle and morose, his eyes are the only defectors to his blasé demeanor. Timid and downturned, akin to a kicked puppy, they beg you and your boyfriend to assuage his guilt. An olive branch, a white flag in the wind. Amid their vulnerability, they still manage to cut into you in a way that feels too intimate, too honest—too much.

The worst part of this charged maelstrom is knowing Tyson isn’t capable of being cruel on purpose, then or now. It's bittersweet.

Careless or callous, it hurts all the same. It’s difficult to sift through the muck and decide which feelings should guide your actions when there’s no easy place to lay blame.

A gnarly, muddy morass of emotion climbs out of your gut and fills your throat, threatening to make an appearance each time you dare to exhale. You’re nervous and confused, elated and optimistic, angry and reproachful. The burn of betrayal rushes up your neck and across the bridge of your nose, but all the words you’ve stockpiled for this rainy day stick to your tongue like tar. Dark, thick, and flammable—your silence is probably for the best.

Bronze eyes, somber beneath the fan of flaxen lashes, adopt a strange aloofness that doesn’t suit his face. Lacquered just so as to protect the gooey softness beneath, the finish does nothing to obstruct or disguise his desirous longing or a brand of blues you’ve never seen in him before.

The intensity of your braided gazes is sanguine at best, duplicitous at worst, but disorienting all the same.

Anxiously, you chew on time; you’re trying your best not to swallow minutes and hours in big gulps. Your attempts to savor their confounding guilty-pleasure flavor are as futile as hoping the animosity would dissipate on its own. Or wishing the distance was just a nightmare you were on the verge of waking up from.

JT’s pulse races against your skin. He’s just as affected, just better at hiding it.

“Took you long enough,” is what JT says in greeting from the floor, dry words flung over his shoulder to curb the growing tension. Blithesome and biting and far more hospitable than you imagined.

All you can do is blink, slack-jawed; there are pieces you’re missing.

JT chuckles at your expression. He pecks your inner thigh to regain your attention. “Fuck now, talk later. Sound good?”

His words crack any and all inhibitions. Like opening the door to a cage, his reassurance grants your mind and heart the permission to succumb to the wave of emotions—lust overtaking the pack with ease.

Eyes still stuck on the ghost in the doorway, you nod your head in agreement. It’s as if you’re afraid your voice might rupture the bubble.

“Figured you’d be a little parched, baby.” Tyson, voice becoming jocular as ever, wags the bottle as he shuts the door behind himself. His tone might be light-hearted, but his gaze is anything but. Starved is the only way you can think to aptly describe the shadow. “And we can’t have that, now can we?”

You barely register JT vacating the prime real estate to accommodate his best friend, and subconsciously, you scoot closer to the edge. You knew you missed him, but you underestimated how needy you’d become if he ever stood before you again.

Both men notice.

Grinning, Tyson takes hold of your jaw. His hand emits a small tremor of unease, hesitant where JT had been demanding. The accidental brush of his fingertips over your boyfriend’s trailed claim rattles free a melancholic whimper. Your eyes glaze over, watering as your neck cranes up at him. He gently tilts your face to the side to assess the damage. You can feel his eyes raking over the marred skin, a sensation akin to your boyfriend’s weaponized breath. Goosebumps rise in their wake.

In reference to the Neanderthal surveying you over his shoulder, Tyson sniggers. “Filthy bastard.”

Charming as ever.

“She deserved it.” JT’s nonchalant shrug is more dismissive than his verbal nod.

Wicked eyes twinkle. “Oh, I don’t doubt that.”

You pinch his side, offended. Nevertheless, you purr at the certitude dripping from his husky vibrato.

He yelps and bats your hand away. “Got you good, didn’t he?”

You nod.

The baby talk-adjacent voice is demeaning, but with your only shield burning a hole in your boyfriend’s back pocket, lying about the effect it's having would be pointless.

Propriety is becoming increasingly moot, as this conversation circling around you carves space for new possibilities.

“Poor thing,” Josty hums, his thumb coasting back and forth over your jaw. His breath is smokey-sweet, honeyed. “M'gonna make it all better. Open up, baby.”

It’s something straight out of an early aughts raunchy teen comedy, the way he holds your mouth open to pour whiskey straight down, doing so without the lip ever touching either one of yours. The thin stream drags slightly as it goes down, but you’d never know watching the pillowy spirit disappear into you. You’re too eager to impress them both to give in and react—to the burn in your throat or the circumstances of this affair. You guzzle the oaky vanilla-clove flavor, smiling dumbly at the toasted aftertaste, all too happy to take anything and everything you’re given.

Still, either by virtue of Tyson’s lingering tipsiness or your inattention, some of the amber liquid escapes over your bottom lip, dribbling over your chin and down in between your cleavage. There isn’t enough time to consider wiping it off; Josty’s mouth is sucking you clean before the bottle even hits the counter beside you.

“Would be a shame…” Tyson starts, briefly interrupting himself with a succession of wet, open-mouthed pecks he’s decided to spoil your décolletage with, “…to let it go to waste.”

JT’s begrudged scoff cuts through the trance. “Jesus, kid. Where’d you learn that? What the fuck have you been doing? Or should I be asking ‘who' you've been doing?"

Tyson flinches at the coarse overtone the questions carry. A blink-and-you’ll-miss-it sort of reaction only you’re close enough to feel. He just laughs into your neck rather than humoring JT or feeding into whatever he’s implying.

You’re too woozy to toss in your two cents in favor of either side.

Cold countertop lapping up your wetness, the burning palm cupping your face to aid the pursuit of sugary lips, the memory of his tongue gliding over your sticky skin—your boyfriend a few paces away, watching. That’s more potent than any liquor, mixed or straight. It doesn’t take long for you to pull away, in a there-but-not state of mind, to slouch against Tyson’s chest. Head heavy, warmed and spinning.

Happy.

“Somethin’ special, aren’t you?” Tyson muses as he kneads the tender spot where your hairline meets your neck. You peck his forearm.

“As sweet as this reunion’s been, you came up here for a reason. Get to it; we don’t have all night. I imagine La Tornade will be wanting his bathroom back eventually.”

You whimper at the sharp edge of his voice, even though you weren’t the intended target.

JT’s dark drawl was laden with protective affection for you, his devotion hardened by a hue of discontent reminiscent of a paternal chide. An outsider looking in might not see beyond the mediator-in-shining-armor ruse, mistakenly pruning away JT’s thorny pain and rotted grief, but you know better. The situation and him. While genuine, his defense of your bruised feelings is a trojan horse for his own. He’s conveying his rage how he can: under the guise of selflessness.

Tyson gulps, eyes downcasted, then nods. He understands as well as you do. When he finally looks up, the shadow’s fallen over his face once more, cloud drooped low overhead.

“You’re scaring me, Josty.”

This makes him laugh, his mood brightening a tad. “If anyone should be scared, it’s me.”

In your periphery, you catch JT urging him to continue with a stiff glare.

“I-I’ve been such an ass. I—I just care so damn much. About you. About Compher, and our friendship. When you graduated, m-my whole world changed. Like someone gutted my life, scooped out all the good, comfortable stuff and left me with the shell. I felt like I lost my people. Like I was left behind. And then I had to watch you two get closer than ever—without me. It fucking sucked, and I didn’t cope well. Didn’t cope at all, really. Kate’ll tell you, she took the brunt of my tailspin.”

You can’t help but snort despite the thick emotion welling up behind your eyes. The boys smile, too. Things look up.

Tyson takes your hand in a tight squeeze; his pulse jumps into your palm. “But that’s no excuse for what I did—didn’t do. How I treated you. You were trying so hard, and all I did was punish you for it. For constantly reminding me you guys are there and not here. For moving on with your life like you’re supposed to.”

He claims JT’s old spot knelt between your parted knees. “And I’m sorry. So deeply sorry, baby. Please let me make it up to you—let me apologize properly.”

Tears of his own shine up at you from his flushed cheeks. Gently, you take his face in your hands, rubbing away the spilled emotion with the soft pads of your thumbs.

A silent pardon.

The walls throw back the echo of his low, audible content—of relief.

“Is this okay?” His voice is barely a whisper, dwindling to a hush as the question tapers off.

Too determined to quiet his audible fear of rejection—and to have his mouth on you as fast as humanly possible—to bother with words, you nod immediately.

“With how much she’s been dripping onto the counter since you walked in, what do you think?” JT interjects, mood vastly improved.

Your cheeks and neck heat just as he intended.

The younger forward chuckles, hands massaging up and down your sensitive thighs, gripping them as if holding himself back from lunging too soon.

A predator lurking in the brush, lying in wait.

“I wasn’t gonna say anything. Didn’t want to embarrass her.” He winks up at you, confidence rising to the surface once more. You have to fight to maintain eye contact; he’s that stupidly attractive. “ —was try t’be a gentleman.”

You’re a flurry of butterflies, a whimpering mess.

Tyson wants to tease your body; it’s in his nature. But he won’t. Namely, because he can’t. No matter how good some old-fashioned edging would eventually make you feel, he’s already on JT’s shit list as is.

Besides, he’s only been fiending for a taste since you introduced yourself to him. And there's no time like the present...

Your guttural scream—an appropriate, albeit mortifying reaction to his baby pink lips enveloping your swollen clit—pumps his chest full with pride. Tongue flat, he charts the length of your heat with a gentleness you hadn’t thought your collective excitement would allow for. His hands coast over your legs, syncing with his mouth, until he physically cannot wait any longer. One final pass, one so agonizingly slow your greedy hips thoughtlessly vie for more of anything, brings his wistful, fidgeting digits to rest at the apex of your thighs.

“Pause.”

JT’s clipped command is a bucket of ice water.

Your vocal annoyance is matched by Tyson’s, but you both know how delicate a game you’re playing.

With his thumb still lazily swirling to your clit, Tyson’s inquisitive head begins to turn around. Before he gets anywhere worthwhile, it’s swiftly spun back into place by your boyfriend’s firm hand.

You can’t even convey how hot you find JT’s fingers casually twisting in his friend’s curly mop—just the way you love; all you manage is a warbled, mostly airy cry. Your distressed state worsens watching the show unfold between your lax, parted knees: reluctant, fluttery lashes over neon cheeks; a rosy, glistening bottom lip sacrificed to cage mousy whimpers, his ragged breathing betraying all effort toward feigning indifference to JT’s self-assured manhandling.

Your boyfriend snickers at your expression, a fish lingering open-mouthed for a surface sip, an ill-attempt to supplement a natural mode gone inadequate. No matter how much oxygen your widened jaw draws in, it never feels sufficient. A bottomless pit, a balloon with a fatal puncture wound. Gone before your depleted brain could make use of it.

“Have to make sure he does it right, don’t I, sweetheart?” JT’s voice is smooth and low, charring by the second; he’s enjoying the view as much as you are.

Tyson rolls his tawny eyes. Half-hearted annoyance. “Controlling much?”

“I know what my woman needs.”

The look you share with your friend is unequivocally feral.

And the growl JT hurls back, a low-pitched rumble permeating the tight space with little effort on his part, is just plain mean.

His attitude could not be more arrogant. The cavalier persona makes you shiver, and Tyson’s breath hitch. Humming, your boyfriend tugs on his curls until the two’s eyes are locked. Inescapable. The brunette gasps as he tries desperately to hold his eyes open, waiting with bated breath.

JT licks his lips, triumphant. “Open her up for me, will ya?” Mischief catches in the light as quickly as it falls into your boyfriend’s lap. His grip tightens, and Tyson whimpers like a naughty puppy caught red-handed. “Don’t screw around, ‘kay? She needs all the help her tight pussy can get, and we don’t have all night.”

Panting, his nod is the only affirmative he can muster up. And the only one his limited range of motion will allow for. Smug and pleased enough, JT all but throws his friend into your fire, his nose bumping where you’re most sensitive. 

You actually yelp.

Holding your torrid gaze, Tyson dips his marriage and middle into you. You groan out what you meant to be his name—But who knows? And who fucking cares?—unable to control yourself while he’s finally touching you like this. Finally back.

Tyson finger-fucks you at an even pace, steadily pushing you up the hill. His satisfaction is tangible when he pulls out and away, so very delighted by your wonton hiss of annoyance. Even more so when the volume hikes up in response to the slippery pads of his fingers circling your clit. Your lewd whines harmonize with your audible arousal as he works it back into your fragile skin, playing with your wetness, utterly fascinated.

“What d’ya think, baby? Think you’re wet enough to take another finger?” JT’s tone is as cocky as his stupid rhetorical question. He, however, made no move to conceal his growing impatience.

“Mhmm,” you murmur, head like a rubber ball hitting the pavement. Still, you remember your manners. “Please—c-can I? Can I have another?”

His smile is pure adoration, dreamlike.

JT’s reverent eyes stay with you, but his words pour down over the eager man on the floor as he coaxes you halfway to heaven. “You heard her, kid. Give the lady what she deserves.”

Kid—Tyson hates when people call him that, but he especially loathes JT's usage. There’s barely an age difference, but with the way everyone acts, it might as well be decades. It seems like no matter what he does to prove himself, he’s still the baby. Every additional candle is like an annual slap in the face, a mockery that won’t end.

He can feel anger and frustration curdling low in his stomach just thinking about all the attempts that fell flat, and he decides to put the grumbling to good use. The vibration is red-hot and deliberate against your responsive, slick center, irritation like lighter fluid.

He gives you more than just three fingers. He splays all three—wide. Even as they stroke your soft inner walls, Tyson keeps you stretched so as to leave no slack. Your boyfriend wants you open? Tyson will fucking tear you apart, happily. (Yes, spite is a factor.)

Highly sensitive and spread to the limit, you ascend far quicker than usual. Fisting a bushel of golden-brown curls, nails digging rapt half-moons, you guide his willing face to the necessary places to see yourself through. Every slight adjustment has your entire body jerking haphazardly as it struggles to process the rocketing shockwaves.

JT’s hand retreats—only slightly—to make way for yours, to give you more leverage to fuck yourself through it. Less than a foot away, your boyfriend’s chest heaves in time with yours, his eyes pits of lust you dive into with clumsy enthusiasm.

During one particular, delicious pass, the tip of Tyson’s tongue catches your strained entrance, and when you unexpectedly gush against his mouth in response, he begins lapping over and around your carnal connection.

“Holy shit — Ty, I-I’m — I’m — “

The denouement of your climax is nothing short of glorious, as rude of a sentence interruptor as it was. Half-mewls and purred praise rain down from your loosened lips, eyes screwed shut.

Tyson melts over the way you take control of your orgasm, so unabashed and authoritative. You go after what you want; he respects that majorly. And getting to feel and taste what makes you tick doesn’t hurt either.

Neither do you and your pretty, throbbing walls cutting off blood flow while your boyfriend tugs his hair from behind.

“Just like that, keep fucking her through it. Did so good—doin’ so good for us.”

JT’s praise sends the brunette’s unoccupied hand right to his bulge.

This is the best he’s felt in months.

There’s the mythical balance of bliss-to-tension to key up his senses, shooting white-hot tingles of want from his head to his feet and flaming between his ribs, affection for you. You forgive him, JT forgives him, and, most importantly, he forgives himself.

He feels buoyant with his face coated in your climax, so much so that it runs down from his chin to his neck, staining the collar of his beer-soaked tee; he hopes you might return his favor later.

Josty’s guilty hand is knocked away by a firm toe.

“Y’haven’t earned it, bud,” his mentor chides.

The delinquent appendage flops lamely at his side for a split second, then lifts beside his nose to join its partner at your slick core. As if remembering there’s work to be done, a goal to attain. Beneath this new asset, your achy, spent clit pulses, egging him on with every thump, thump, thump.

Tempting him to do something, to take it further…

He thinks about it. Fuck, does he think about it—you can see the tape winding in his eyes.

JT can read Tyson’s mind through his skull, apparently. “Don’t even think about it, kid. Her last one’s mine, but you’re more than welcome to watch from right here.” —Your boyfriend points to the remaining space between the sinks, knowing it’ll be close quarters for you both— “Just remember: I only said watch. This is groveling, not a treat.”

And Tyson does. Without question or complaint, he’s just fine sitting next to you, sitting pretty.

He’s always been the perfect teammate. Always willing to do whatever it takes, regardless of the role. The only difference is he no longer wants his anxiety to be the sole motivator behind said selflessness.

Finally ready to play fearless.

JT helps you down; Tyson hops up.

Immediately, your attention fractures. Split between messy brown curls and lust-blown pupils and your own disheveled appearance: smudged makeup, knotted hair, mauled neck, and spit-stained, bruised lips. Thank fuck you’re graduated and gone. Otherwise, you’d never live this down—Kate might treat you to a taste of would-be campus humiliation later if she’s feeling particularly charitable, though.

Your boyfriend’s grip is heavy on your hips. Happy to have you back. You feel one hand coast over your lower back and down to grope your ass as if trying to keep you in the palm of his hand. White-knuckle hold withstanding, JT presses his chest flush to your backside and uses his free hand to yank every remaining hindrance to your navel.

He wants you on display.

Your gasp is rivaled only by Tyson’s pitiful whimper and twitching, touch-happy fingers.

The ginger’s chuckle is molten and deep, mouth barely a breath from your ear, his eyes pinning Tyson still.

Your mind rewound back to when he made this proposition, wondering how the hell you got from there to here.

“Bend over, sweetheart. Arch that back nice and pretty so we can show Josty what a good girl he’s been missing out on—what a filthy thing you’ve turned into.”

As soon as you’ve done just that, your boyfriend drives home. It’s fast and dirty; primal. He knows there’s no need, but JT marks his territory anyway.

You watch Josty’s mouth part like he’s about to ask you something. Staring through his eyes as if ducking into his pesky daydreams and up-too-late musings, all specifics watery and indistinct.

Ultimately, you wind up disappointed by silence. But, with the slow return of your boyfriend’s bare cock between your soft inner walls, it dawns on you; JT had used a condom last time. Even made Tyson retrieve it for him. The depth of your relationship is sinking in; that’s what you’re now watching. He’s mulling over the information, caught somewhere between wanting to swallow his guilt one go and choking on his own assumptions.

JT follows your charged concern, performs a similar triage, and then gives you a concise nod through the fogged-up mirror.

I’ll handle it.

At that, your walls noticeably ease, and he shudders, groaning as even more of him sinks deeper to occupy the newfound space. He gets a few strokes out before Josty slots his body between your palms to lean in. Here, he does something that collapses the simple but effective status quo. 

“Fuck, kid. K-Keep doing that.”

Keep rubbing your clit.

Keep playing with you.

Keep being an accessory to his pleasure. To yours.

Be present.

Be here.

“Such a fucking mess, baby. Don’t know how Compher gets anything done with you there, sweet and ripe for the taking.”

The two halves of Tyson’s demeanor are antithetical, and infuriatingly so, a saccharine smile split open by filth. It paints a sordid picture that must stand for itself, as you find it impossible to pluck out of thin air any coherent thoughts.

Be that as it may, your friend did not set out for a reply. At least not one other than the befuddled stuttering you’re doing.

A familiar palm shoots to your raw neck—tender, inside and out—lightning quick. You're yanked up before you can blink. JT mercilessly nips at the gaps in between his tight grip, hips pushed just as firm against the swell of your backside.

Still, he furthers their madcap banter. “I dunno either, Josty. And, believe me, the little vixen sure as hell doesn’t make it any easier. Sometimes I think she’s tryna milk me dry for good.”

If Tyson Jost were ever going to cream his pants—post-pubescence, it would be now.

Like, right fucking now.

The proclamation of your third orgasm is wondrous. Proud. Grateful. One of your hands flies back to catch the nape of JT’s neck to steady yourself as he continues pistoning in and out of you. Tyson's generous touch stays, too.

Your back arches this go around, head rolling against your boyfriend's shoulder before slipping back down towards the counter, free palm absorbing the impact of the abrupt sway. Too much, too much—it’s all too much for your tender muscles and soupy brain to handle. You surrender to the plethora of sensations, each more overwhelming than the last—half-collapsed back against into your boyfriend, half-crumbled forward into his best friend’s damp, tented lap.

“Not gonna last, sweetheart—y’feel too damn good, s’tight and warm, always strangling my cock—know you’re close, too. Gonna give me what you promised, Compher? Please, pretty girl—need to feel your perfect pussy squeezin’ me dry.”

It's refractory; your world goes from washed-out to vivid and back, over and over, as though impatiently flipping between channels.

You’re a tangle of sticky limbs and physical reverie, blanketed by a warm afterglow and cleared air. Body scaffolded by muscular forms on either side, your mind gives your body permission to slacken at last. JT’s arm winds around your midsection when it becomes clear the all-consuming exhaustion is giving way to the relaxation that eluded you for so many months. Tyson massages your arms, your hands still cemented to his knees. Your head drops to his shoulder, too heavy for your bruised neck.

For a long while, no one says a thing. Not intentionally or for fear of disturbing the peace; there’s simply no need. No words exist to shoulder that much weight, none able to capture precisely what emotions swirl between you. Silence says enough—silence says it all.

Banging cuts through your sex-drunk stupor. Again. The abrupt sounds function like metaphorical smelling salts, restoring consciousness and rousing decorum laid dormant. Your mutual, unadulterated bliss circles the drain in the absence of a psychological plug, ripped free, half-baked.

JT reluctantly leaves you empty and dripping, tucks himself away, and cracks open the door—only as wide as is necessary. Behind his imposing physique, you remain hunched over Tyson, waiting for your boyfriend to make the problem go away; you’re too tired to take any initiative.

Golden hair and familiar grey-blue eyes fill the gap, shining in your periphery. Barely a sliver, that’s how much of this your boyfriend’s willing to share with the world. You like that, and judging by his lopsided grin, so does Tyson.

“Paging Mrs. Compher!” Gabe hollers over JT’s head. “Clean up on aisle ‘Kate.’”

Just hearing her name puts you back in action. Damn you, maternal instincts.

You scramble to right twisted fabric and smeared makeup to a soundtrack of expletives. It’s pointless, though, because nothing settles how it should. No amount of smoothing, brushing, or tucking seems to help. Hazy vision and the legs of a newborn fawn don’t exactly lend themselves to effective primping.

And it’s not like you’ve got a hickey-remover magic wand stashed in your purse, either. 

Accept your fate, you acquiesce with a sigh.

Tyson does a piss-poor job muffling his laughter, which lands him a crisp swat to the chest.

As you stumble over, you catch the end of your boyfriend’s irritation. “—and you’re sure there isn’t anyone else to hold her hair back? Why can’t you do it?”

The gears in Gabe’s skull clank so loud you can hear them over the audible chaos seeping into your haven—he’s intoxicated, not stupid.

“CupKate wants her mommy.” The blonde winks at you over JT’s shoulder. His tongue gives a knowing click of approval at Tyson’s equally disheveled state. “And what do you care, Compher? Smells like you three already made your express trip to Pound-town, USA. How was it? I hear the weather’s hot and steamy this time of year.”

“Real mature, Landy, real mature,” JT scoffs.

The sound just revs him up. “Says the fucker who’s locked in a frat house bathroom with his girlfriend and his best friend. One of whom, might I add, looks like they got mauled by a hormonal freshman after a high school dance.”

“Can you two go measure your dicks, I don’t know, anywhere but in the way? I have a child to tend to.” 

You almost have to laugh. At the situation and at the words coming out of your mouth. At Kate, sick to her stomach like a kid who ate too many sweets on a holiday. 

Years have passed, but you’re all still the same.

“Me-yeoh!” Gabe sing-songs while miming what you assume are claws scratching at nothing.

Again, his drink is the sole casualty of his jubilation. A golden wave sloshes over the rim and onto the floor. The spray makes JT’s jaw tick.

The former winger offers a sheepish grin in repentance. “Whoops?”

Your boyfriend steals a glance to check that you’re decent, then side-steps out of your way with an exasperated sigh. His dilated gaze flits over your ruffled appearance, shamelessly drinking in the state of your throat but tripping over the questions dancing in your eyes.

He juts his head in Landy’s direction with a sardonic eye-roll. “Go on. Save your damsel, Mother Hen. I’ll fill you in on in the Uber back to the hotel.”

“Meet you out front?” You ask, and he nods.

You dart back to Tyson, plant a chaste peck on his flushed cheek, and then repeat the gesture with JT and his peeved lips. It’s faint, but they instantly soften for you.

Before they know it, you’re slipping out the door. Gabe gets an affectionate pat on the shoulder as you squeeze by him before you disappear in the direction of the Girls Only bathroom; no significant differences, only marginally cleaner and occasionally stocked with helpful accouterment—chivalry isn’t dead!

Lingering in the wake of your departure, Gabe sways like an inflatable man on the curb of a car dealership. A smirk twists his lips. “Nicely done, boys. Nicely done. Can’t say I thought we’d see the day—or that either of you had it in ya—but I feel like a proud father.” He wipes a phantom tear, the final straw. “Makes you wish you listened to Daddy Landy sooner, huh? Think of all the lost ti—”

JT slams the door in his face. Through the wood, Gabe cackles.

The two men slip back into sync as they wordlessly scrape themselves back together with the time and privacy you were not afforded. 

As JT yanks his jeans back into place, his belt clanking around like a bell’s hourly chime, a black velvet box tumbles to the floor, and Tyson’s stomach along with it.

The air shouldn’t, but it turns on a dime. Their progress is seemingly more fragile than expected.

“If—uh, wow.” A crunchy, anxious bark of a laugh cuts his thought in half.

JT doesn’t interrupt; he holds space for the blossoming discomfort.

Tyson rubs the tense knots along the back of his neck as his eyes drill into the floor. “If I’d known this would be our swan song, I would’ve tried to enjoy it more. I don’t know—savored it, I guess?”

“This,” JT says, scooping up the dud he hopes isn’t hanging fire. “— is what I wanted to talk to you about earlier.”

Before they got into it in the garage, before they’d been forcibly separated by Erik and Nate. Before they, punch-drunk and drunk-drunk, teetered between tears and anger in the shadowy, too-quiet backyard.

They spun in circles until they had nowhere to move but on. To make amends, to stumble through chary half-apologies that mean more than they say.

JT’s alleviation was short-lived; his calm trepidation squashed before it could fly. Tyson now understands why.

Tyson balks. “Me?”

Your boyfriend sighs through his nose, pinching the bridge. He’s bidding time. Digging for the right words but knowing there are none.

“I love her—and I know you do, too. I’m not upset; she makes it hard not to fall for her.”

Tyson’s head hangs lower, chagrined.

JT continues, “I’m going to ask her to marry me, but I didn’t want to do it without talking to you. Without making sure you’d be okay. Eventually. The last thing I wanted was for you to be blindsided or to feel even more left out.”

Tyson can’t help but snort at the sheer absurdity. “Left out… God, how pathetic am I? Getting all butt-hurt over a relationship that isn’t even mine.”

“Pathetic was going AWOL.”

Josty winces. He doesn’t argue because he has zero ground to stand on.

“But feeling something? Far from it.”

“I didn't—don’t want to take her from you. You have to know that, Compher.” The hurt’s been hammered from his voice. Left behind is softened sincerity.

JT’s smile is just as downy. “I do, and you’d be wasting time by trying.”

Josty chokes on an unforeseen bubble of laughter.

You love JT Compher so openly and ardently it might as well be a neon sign plastered to your forehead. He’s always been it for you. There’s never been any competition, Tyson Jost included.

“Thank god we got this ironed out before the wedding,” the older forward chuckles as he leans back against the counter.

They’re side-by-side, as they should be.

“Why’s that?”

JT digs into his other pocket and pushes something into the palm of his best friend, whose cheeks flame tout de suite in response. With a bump of his shoulder, your boyfriend tacks on, “Something to remember tonight by.”

Tyson shoves the memento into his own pocket, then raises a quizzical brow.

Your boyfriend grins.

“The best man pining over the bride while giving the groom the cold shoulder would make for an awkward wedding, don’t you think?”

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[wazzappp]

I drew. a lot for this. Also heads up for non RE mutuals this is going to be. confusing for you. I'm going to do my best to annotate and provide context but you are in for a wild ride.

Anyway long ass lore post for how Lisa and Robbie go from fighting to working together in this AU.

In the RE8 cannon all of the Dimitrescu daughters are made at the same time but for the sake of ✨the situations✨ I am going to change that. Lisa lived the longest as a human before being assimilated into the mold with a Cadou (infecting extension of the Megamycite). Technically her 'sisters' are older than her, as they were assimilated a while ago. Lisa has been a member of house Dimitrescu for about 2 years now. This puts her in this. Weird middle child zone. She wants to make her 'family' proud but she's also aware that what makes them proud isn't really the most achievable thing in the world (expecially with Bela to contend with. Older sibling overachiever to the maximum). She's got a certain degree of distance from them and sometimes wonders if she wasn't better off before all of this. Her memories are fuzzy but still there for the most part. She cant remember faces or names but she remembers feelings and situations. She doesen't remember families being like this (she wants OUT).

Chasing prey brought in is fairly standard for her. It's some of the only entertainment she gets. So when she catches Robbie exploring around the castle she has no idea that he's special in any way. He's just some new guy she gets to mess with before eating and DAMN he's FUN. If she didn't know any better she could almost think that he has experience being chased around (he does. he very much so does. all of RE7's worth). What she ALSO doesn't know is that Mother Miranda (big bad. Different from Lady Dimitrescu, who she refers to as 'mother') is planning on using Gabe (who is replacing baby Rose in this) to try and resurrect her dead kid with a 'perfect vessel' and this requires. uh. disassembly (in the base RE8 gameplay the reason Ethan goes to each house is because uhhhhhhhh his infant daughter has been dismembered and stored in jars and he needs to collect them so he can put her back together.... yeah). Robbie intervenes before this can get going and is instead going house to house because if he wants to get out of this stupid fuckass villiage he needs to collect the key components to unlock the gate keeping him in here (i need him to have a reason. to kill everyone. its important to me ok).

When Lisa finds out this random, but fun guy, she's been chasing who she thought was JUST SOME NORMAL GUY killed one of her sisters she mentally goes 'Oh. OH. THERES A CHANCE FOR ME TO GET OUT OF HERE'. That in conjunction with discovering Mother Miranda is planning on FULLY DISMEMBERING A CHILD she uh. Makes some decisions.

What you have to understand about her plans of matricide is that neither Lady Dimitrescu or her sisters can actually really fully die. Sure, their bodies are gone, but their consciousness is stored in the hive mind and they can reform later after gathering their strength. If she has to put her kinda shitty found family in time out for the sake of getting herself out of here + keeping her newly revived conscience clean she's absolutely going to do it.

(fuckin. backgrounds. dialogue. fuck. why can things not just take place inside of the void. DUKE MY BELOVED WE LOVE AND RESPECT DUKE IN THIS HOUSE HES A REAL ONE fuck now I got it in my head that he keeps trying to play matchmaker for them and i need to. go draw that because its too funny not to.)

Lisas plan involves this lab I had her mention in the comic above. It's where Robbie needs to go to synthesize more poison for the dagger of deaths flowers, and SUPPOSEDLY where a medicine that might allow her to go outside again might be (enemies of Lisas type become SIGNIFICANTLY weaker in the cold. She could try to bundle up but its still really not a good idea). She would love to go there herself, but it's in an area of the castle thats exposed to the cold of the outdoors.

The Two of them make a fairly decent team and Lisa finds herself having a LOT more fun hunting with someone else than she does on her own. They balance each other out pretty well; Robbie works primarily with guns so he can watch Lisas back while she's up close wrecking any grunts they run into. It's also pretty helpful having someone who can turn into a swarm of flies for puzzle solving purposes.

After all this Robbies trust for her increases SIGNIFICANTLY. He's still not really sure about her, but she's moved out of the 'active threat' classification into the 'kinda helpful' zone.

Lisa's plan has three ways it could go:

They all fail miserably and get sent to mental and physical time out in the megamycite.

They win and get to go free but either the medicine isn't there or it doesen't work. In which case she's just planning on getting as many coats as possible and Try-or-Die-ing it.

The medicine is there and she actually gets to roam free

Luckily for her, the medicine IS there, it DOES work, and Robbies sense of honor / noticing her usefulness (its hard to wage a one man war on an entire community of mutants ok you cant blame him for appreciating having some ACTUAL HELP for once) all align for the best possible scenario.

The cold does still affect her; her healing isn't as quick as it usually is and her increased strength / speed is a bit reduced, but she can go!! outside!!

She decided to stick with Robbie in getting out of the village as a whole. She doesen't really know what the world outside is like but anything has to be better than here (plus if she stays here she's probably getting shoved into the Megamycite by Mother Miranda PERMENANTLY and that just. wont do).

Also yes Lisa being with Robbie for the rest of his adventures means that she is there for Heisenbergs 'proposal'. She uh. Does not like that much.

this all made. more sense in my head I hope it at least makes a little sense out loud.

[professorhayforbreath]

so episode 5. all my thoughts

we picked up where the last one left off, good start

annabeth saying she knows percy isn't dead... how. to annabeth and grover there should have been no way percy was alive and finding out he was should've been so emotional but instead she was like dw i know he's not dead lol. it's kind of... lazy writing? like how are you gonna write a scene as gut wrenching as percy trapping himself with a monster and telling his friends to complete the quest without him because he's actively dying and has no reason to believe he'll survive, and then make the fallout of that so... nonchalant? idk if it's a time limit thing but that was so underwhelming to me

annabeth being the one to see the fates... no

fugitive percy enjoyers at least we won!!!!

the trio peeking over the road barrier at ares was cute goofy silly i liked that :)

gabe on the news shit talking percy i'm hooting and hollering!! "i really-- WE really loved that car" and "i'm gonna kill him". excellent. now put percy on the news fake crying about his "loving" stepfather i believe in you

i did want them to acknowledge annabeth's lack of experience with the world outside camp but having her say "i've never seen any kind of movie" has gotta be one of the weirdest ways they could've done that

the turnstile scene was cool i guess but as we go on i'm more and more conscious of how many episodes are left and how much plot there is to get through and idk i feel like this scene could've hit the cutting room floor and we wouldn't have lost anything

i do love the ambience of the park though. maybe i'm easy to impress because the aesthetic of an abandoned amusement park is just fantastic on its own but the set was very cool. wish it wasn't so dark so i could've actually seen it ❤️

percy and annabeth having a serious conversation with 'what is love' blaring in the background is sending me

first ever seaweed brain dropped! i liked the way they did it, it felt natural

actually back to the "i've never seen a movie" thing. you're telling me that in this version of the story, in which frederick chase was apparently a great dad who treated annabeth like a gift, he never took her to the movies? or she never watched one on tv? she had a whole seven years of life in the real world before going to camp and she's never seen a movie

annabeth isn't allowed to have fears she's too smart for that apparently

i think the scene with the chair was overall well executed with some great lines and fantastic acting but... idk. they really scrapped the original scene just to do what they already did last episode. i miss the spiders i miss hephaestus tv. it felt redundant to have percy sacrifice himself again. percy this is the second time today you've been like "no dw i'll just die" do you need to talk to someone

annabeth disillusionment arc complete already? calm down guys this is season one

ZOO TRUCK ZOO TRUCK ZOO TR

so it's confirmed the reason they go into the lotus casino is BECAUSE hermes is there :/ they said these literal children cannot fall for tricks and traps it's too unrealistic

not much to say about the grover and ares scenes bc i don't know what to make of them. i didn't mind them. ares had some funny lines. i guess my only complaint is that the grover i know would not have been so calm talking to the god of war. i'm curious to see where that cliffhanger leads

is it just me or did the pacing improve a little bit this episode?

despite how negative i sound i enjoyed episode 5 a lot more than episode 4. there are still so many weird changes, additions, and omissions though. honestly i think a big part of the reason i enjoyed this one is because i'm not expecting anything anymore. i'm not getting my hopes up about them adapting the book normally i'm just intrigued by this thing like a scientist observing an experiment. like hmm what are they doing now? fascinating *takes notes*

[dungeonclown]

Dungeonclown D20 “Rankings”

In quotes bc i love pretty much all of them and just had to post this for posterity and if one of my friends asks which season(s) to watch. [Bullet Points not in any particular order]

Level 0: did not finish

Pirates of Leviathan (lovely cast but i couldnt get all the way thru due to audio quality issues from being the first remotely recorded show.)

Shriek Week (gabe hicks)

Coffin Run (didn’t hold my interest)

Level 1: I Really Like This 😊

Fantasy High Sophomore Year (i love this season, literally the only downside was the livestream format. No!!)

Fantasy High (OG - we’ve come so far)

Tiny Heist (i mean, so darling, so funny. what so u expect)

Mice & Murder (better quality for remote but could tell the cast would have killed it in person since the zoom call situation is a big barrier)

Misfits & Magic (very cute and wholesome. Spaulding forever)

The Seven (needed more episodes to tell the story!!! wish they had sets and minis; covid problems)

Neverafter (love the themes and imagery, such a good study on storytelling.)

Dungeons & Drag Queens (fave sidequest character art and minis, mainly so impressed by brennans skill as a gm for new players/roleplayers)

Level 2: I Absolutely Love This 🤩

Fantasy High Junior Year (first show watched as it was airing, best FH yet, mary anne skuttle what more could u ask for)

Unsleeping City Part 2 (literally only downside is being filmed remotely. Breaks my heart they couldnt do this in person since this season is so special. BUT - got to see character art and illustrated backgrounds which was really fun)

A Crown of Candy (goddamnit brennan)

The Ravening War (goddamnit matt)

Mentopolis (superb cast w great chemistry and just lots of fun idk man i just think theyre neat)

Burrow’s End (fucking incredible storytelling by aabria, the cast, the crew w sets and minis and SHADOW PUPPETS goddamn.)

Never Stop Blowing Up (so stupid so joyful im just happy to be here)

Level 3: Has a Special Place In My Heart 🥰

Unsleeping City (some of my all time favorite characters and i just love how deeply these people love and understand New York City. Its the molecular structure of NYC in a show and its special)

Escape from the Bloodkeep (the first season i was like I Have To Stop Immediately And Share This With My Family. Every character is perfect. Every NPC is perfect. The minis and sets are darling. Every day i think about Hamhead and about muh hert)

A Court of Fey & Flowers (i just love them, i never thought id be invested in regency shit but if you put it in the feywild and add goblins and hobgoblins and owlbears and idiot bird people and shit im so down goddamn. Killed it. Absolutely killed it. Also gorgeous sets and costumes and props??? Gagged.)

Level 4: Rewired My Brain Chemistry 💀

A Starstruck Odyssey (screaming, crying, throwing up. The energy of these people being in person after covid creates a truly incredible maelstrom of dumb beautiful bozo shenanigans. id give a kidney for more ASO content. I Love This Show. And that it was based off of Starstruck is so fuckin special. This setting is amazing. also big barry syx is the exact bullseye of character im obsessed with that it makes me feral to think about him. I was going to joke that he was made in a lab specifically to appeal to my big beefy sex idiot himbo mercenary sensibilities but thats exactly his backstory and im mad about it)

[andromythical]

PJO EP 5 SPOILERS

PERCABETH HUG PERCABETH HUG PERCABETH HUG "so.. you're not as dead as we thought you'd be." "surprise." Grover and percy friendship the one and only. "I'm the last person to realise this aren't I." "...yeah." jsjsjhshwwuaja "why are you being weird with me again, I thought we weren't doing that anymore." "I'm not being weird with you" god they really are twelve years old. I am like five minutes in and this is is already my favourite episode. THE MOTORBIKE SOUNDS IN THE BACKGROUND AND THEN ARES APPEARING OH MY GODDD "beg pardon??" Grover my son. Also ares' coat?? I need it. "Because I'm doing exactly the same thing as you." I'm foaming at the mouth I'm going feral. "gimme a second I'm just starting a fight on twitter here" oh I love him (he's an awful person) GABE ON THE NEWS SCENE GABE ON THE NEWS SCENE!!!!!!!! Ares telling Percy about the family gossip 😭😭 "so we're gonna have a war!! Ain't it great??" why do I like ares in this... Oh okay nevermind!!!! Stop I've been pronouncing satyr the same as satire for my entire life.. shoutout to the wardrobe department they chose perfectly. WATERLAND!!!!!! ohh my god ohhh my god oh. my. god. THATS HOW YOU PRONOUNCE HEPHAESTUS??? "It's a little funny... Oh look at that, that's cool!!!" Annabeth <3 THIS IS THE GROVER & ARES SCENE THEY WERE TALKING ABOUT????? "satyrs are children of nature. nature is brutal." THIS SCENE IS INSANE I LOVE IT SO MUCH!?!?!? chewing on the bars of my enclosure?!? THE TUNNEL OF LOVE!!! also knows as the thrill ride of love I guess??? WHAT IS LOVE??? BABY DON'T HURT ME, DONT HURT ME, NO MORE!! this is a fever dream. "she was trying to keep my away from you guys- BABY DONT HURT ME!" I think I'm going insane. oh so this is what it meant by thrill ride. PERCYS POWERS OH MY GOD. "did you just???" "I don't know, maybe" god he has no clue. MORE ARES + GROVER SCENES!! "I hate kids, all of em. I hate my own kids." Mars wouldn't say the same about frank would he 🤨. GROVERS SO STRATEGIC WHATT?? I need more Grover edits with clips of what he said as the intro. THIS IS NOT A DRILL I REPEAT THIS IS NOT A DRILL: SEAWEED BRAIN USAGE!!! "I'm not leaving the underworld without your mom." ohhh <333 "You think you had to ask?" "Just making sure." Percabeth crumbs!!! oh my god walker/percy looks like he's gone through HELL. HEPHAESTUS OH MY GODS HES HERE. "It isn't how it should be! [...] Eat or be eaten!! Power and glory and nothing else matters! Ares is that way, ZEUS is that way! My mother is that way!! He isn't that way! [....] I won't be like all of you. I just wont." annabeth my girllll "some of us don't like being that way either. You're a good kid, annabeth, I'll put in a good word with your mom for you" oh.. oh... why am I tearing up... THE ANIMAL TRUCK!! LOTUS CASINO WITH HERMES NEXT EPISODE ?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?! I'm so excited. THE GIRLS ARE FIGHTINGG this is way too long I'm sorry 😭😭. "I know who stole the master bolt." YES GROVER YOU ABSOLUTE MASTERMIND

[pssy-wagn]

Day 26: Android/Cyborg

“...and that’s why you’re just better off without them. Are you listening to me?”

“Yes, Dean.”

Crossing his arms, he looks at Cas in the eyes from across the kitchen table, “Then what’d I say?”

“You went on and on about why this phone is better than that phone. For the umpteenth time.”

Looking at the bill in front of him, he points to the upgrade that Castiel can now have, “You have an upgrade, Cas. You can pick any phone you want. Why in the hell will you stick with an Apple phone? You’ve got your pick from Android, my personal favorite, Google Pixel-”

“It’s just a phone, Dean.”

Sighing, Dean stares kind of disheartened at his portion of the bill, “I still have about three months with mine.”

“And you want to trade it in so bad already. The only thing wrong with yours is the screen.”

“Protector. Screen protector. But I wanna get a new one too,” Dean whines.

“I don’t even want an upgrade. There’s nothing wrong with my phone.”

“No. Except it’s starting to drop calls, your pictures are blurry when you send shit to me, your Messenger sucks hardcore-”

“I thought it was just a software update I needed.”

“That’s Apple products for ya. They don’t give a shit. They’re just like that N’Sync song, buy, buy, buy but with a U, not like, goodbye. Anyways, that’s how they getcha.”

Looking at his phone, Cas makes a quick phone call.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Gabriel.”

“Hi, Cassie!”

Sighing, he ignores his dreaded nickname from his older brother, “Gabriel, you have an Android phone, right?”

“Talking to you on it right now. Why?”

“Time for an upgrade-”

“Oh, sweet. Yeah. There’s a reason why I ditched my iPhone. It was-”

Cas is listening to hear what’s next in his sentence but when he looks at his screen, it’s on his wallpaper of him and Dean kissing with fireworks going on in the background. Dean looks at him from his plate of eggs and bacon, “Did he hang up?”

“I think.”

Nodding, Dean tears a piece of bacon, “Or did it drop the call? Again.”

Sighing, Cas searches for Gabriel’s number in his cell. Before he even has time to hit Call, Gabriel is calling him.

“Gabriel?”

“Why did you hang up on me? I was talking for a good two minutes until I realized I was talking to nobody!”

“His phone sucks!” Dean hollers from the back as he retrieves his second mug of coffee, “Talk some sense into your brother!”

“Dean, quiet. I’m on the phone.”

“Not for long”, Dean mutters under his breath.

Cas throws him a frown, “I will spit in your coffee, Dean.”

“Oh, please. You say that so much, it’s lost all threat.”

Shaking his head, he goes back to his phone only to be shown his wallpaper again. Exhaling hard, he looks at Dean who has a smug smile on his face.

“Dropped again, huh?” Dean fishes out his phone from his hotdog pants, “Wanna use mine? I bet you can stay on the phone with Gabe’s little ass longer.”

Squinting his eyes at his husband, Cas grabs the phone from his outstretched hand, “I hate you so much right now.”

“Lost meaning too,” Dean laughs as he shoves a forkful of eggs in his mouth.

When Cas goes into the next room to make his phone call, Dean takes Cas’ phone to try to make a call.

Calling Sam, he puts his phone to his ear.

“Hey, Cas. What did Dean do this time?”

“The fuck? That’s the reason he calls you all the time?”

“Oh. Hahaha, uh, hi Dean.”

“Uh-huh. He doesn’t call just to say hi and shit?”

“He does. About two days ago we were talking about fish tacos.”

“Fish tacos?”

“Yeah. If made just right, they are pretty good but nothing compare-”

“Compared to what? Beef? Steak? Hello? Sam?”

Looking at the screen, he knows the call dropped. Laughing out loud, “Cas! Your phone sucks more dick than you!”

When he comes back into the kitchen, he slides Dean’s phone to him.

“So what did you and your brother talk about? He agrees with me, huh? It’s time to switch, Babe.”

Dean slides him his phone back. Cas looks at it, sadly, “I’m sorry, ol’ gal. I think it’s time to let you go.”

“Get the new Samsung one, Cas. That one looks awesome.”

“I’m saying goodbye, Dean!”

Putting his hands up in surrender, Dean simply rolls his eyes, “I’m gonna go get dressed. We could hit up the AT&T store before we gotta go grocery shop.”

“Fine.”

When they get to the store, Sam calls Dean. As soon as he pulls his phone out of his pocket, he drops it just outside the store; having it smash onto the sidewalk curb grill and down its drain. Both Dean and Cas look at each other, mouths agape.

“What the fuck?! My phone!”

Going on his hands and knees, Dean tries to fish it out but his arms are too big. Leaving him, Cas goes inside the store. Coming back out, a woman shines her phone’s flashlight into the drain, “Let me help you, sir.”

“Thanks.”

When she pulls it out, the phone is completely cracked. Dean tries to turn it on but hears the water sloshing around inside.

“Good thing you’re at an AT&T store, right?” The woman nervously chuckles.

“I guess.”

Walking inside, he sees Cas eyeing the display phones, “Cas? I’m getting a new one too.”

“Perfect. I’ll get the newest Apple, my husband wants the newest Android.”

“What? We’ve been over this, Cas!”

[f0xgl0v3]

TV SHOW SPOILERS!!!

*Note from the future; this has been my live reaction to the new episode, I was going to write about Ares but clearly I spiraled. writing this upped my enjoyment so much because I got to put I down and andondjroanfnsi

OMG I LOVE ARES

Ahfoneanfindnfjsaj

THEY SIFJAODMRNSIJFBF

He’s so silly. He is a mean older cousin, exudes that energy

LOOK AT HIM

That first scene, so silly. Goofy. THE GABE THING, HEHEHEHEHE

I LOVE HIM. ARES NOT GABE. HES PERFECT

The entire episode solidifies my love for Pjo!Ares so much. And i already adored him.

I’m actually Ares. Annabeth’s snark is so rhaokfjiandhsi

This isn’t coherent whatsoever but like- he’s so hehehehehe.

Still might have gripes about depictions but I feel like it’s better than book but that might just be my first impression happiness to see Ares :3

Typing this in realtime of the episode. WHAT GROVER IS A FAN?!?? THIS IS SO SILLY! WAR HISTORY BUFF GROVER IS SOMETHING I DIDNT KNOW I NEEDED BUT I CANT LIVE WITHOUT IT. GROVER AND ARES HAVING A RELATIONSHIP IS SO FUN TO THINK ABOUT! SILLY LITTLE FAN GROVER SILLY LITTLE FAN GROVER

WHAT IS THAT MELODY? WHAT IS LOVE, BABY DONT HURT ME!!

RHIS IS EPIC HEPHAESTUS ORIGIN STORY

Deep conversation while the what is love song plays in the background is what I live for.

Still not liking the Ares hating his kids. Mythology from what I’ve read and interpreted likes to often disagree with that. Does this imply he hates Phobos and Deimos in Pjo canon because that’s sad :[ I like Phobos and Deimos and liked the silly little headcanons in my brain over them. Grover is so real though.

PRESENTATION? wHAT? I need to talk about this now-

Grover 600 iq? Love Athena and Ares sibling rivalry.

ARHENA TALKING TO HER OWL? HER BEST FRIEND, THATS FUN

What.

Grover.

Grover is so silly. Him getting the answer that Ares knows who got the bolt is so good, love them.

Wait what, no the episode can’t end. Grover- GROVER-?

[superstarzolar]

Your outfit design on the mci is so good!! Do you have any tips for how you put them together, picking colors, ect?

i’ve been putting off answering this because i know id ramble for about a thousand words because designing characters is my favorite part of the character making process + i spent almost a year refining the mci designs. BUT i’ll try to be cohesive and to-the-point about the tips and pointers i held myself to while designing the characters

info starts under the cut just in case ppl don’t care

1: keep the time period and age range of your character(s) in mind.

athazagora, or at least the part where the children originated from, is in 1985. knowing this, i wouldn’t use clothes in my designs that weren’t around/weren’t as popular, as that would make the date and clothes meaningless and out of date.

considering a character’s age is important, too, as styles and the “maturity” (for a lack of a better word) of said styles evolve with the character. for example, gabriel, a 5 year old boy, would not be wearing the more alternative, dark, and overall mature-type clothing that jeremy, a 14 year old punk, would be wearing.

adding on to that, it is also important to consider the personality of your character while designing them. unless you are specifically going for a misdirective character design (like that one bear from toy story. sorry he’s the best example), having characters wear stuff that doesn’t compliment their personality makes them confusing (in my opinion).

2: use a color palette that is easily identifiable and pleasing.

what is pleasing to look at and what is identifiable is subjective, i know, but this entire thing is subjective so…………….//Yeah

anyways. i’d say to always stick to 5 colors at the least, and 10 at the most. over 10 base colors in a design makes it hard to remember, and if you can’t even remember the design of your own character, who will?

secondly, a character’s color palette also has to reflect their personality. sorry. i’m gonna use gabriel and jeremy again because i designed them with a juxtaposition in their traits and designs in mind:

jeremy, a punk kid who is timid and sad, has a color pallete consisting of mostly grayscale and red. these colors, especially when compared to the other colorful cast of characters in athazagora, clearly set him apart as a character that is not like the others.

gabriel, on the other hand, is a bouncy 5 year old who is very happy all the time. this is represented through the minimal use of dark colors in his pallete. he even includes some sun buttons on his overalls, which usually signifies that something is bright and cheerful. this contrasts jeremy’s skull, which usually represents sadness and gloom.

but color palletes are nothing without proper implementation. to really utilize a color pallete, you need to create designs that catch, and keep, somebodys attention. I’ll use gabe as an example AGAIN because he’s my favorite design

on the left is his design from july of last year. it uses mostly the same colors as his current design (the shorter one on the right), but it is oversimplified and unappealing. he looks like a background character in mlp. in the current design, still using the same colors (as stated before), there is more contrast and patterns; the black stripe against the blue, yellow, and white; the horizontal stripes of his shirt against the vertical ones of his overalls; these little details require a viewer to actually look at the design to fully understand it.

3: (the final tip unless i think of any more) design what you like to draw.

there is little to no point in making shit you hate drawing. and i’m not talking tedious, if you genuinely do not like to draw something, don’t. you control your art experience, and you’re just fucking yourself over if you force yourself to make stuff you don’t enjoy.

for example, i really like overalls. i love designing them, customizing them, and that is why they are on most of the missing kids designs. i draw what i like to see.

hope this helps. this is just me yapping basically but there’s some actual coherency if you squint

[gale-gentlepenguin]

Gale Reviews: ML Season 5 episode 18 Emotion

(So this is completely far ahead in the order and I will likely revisit this when I am able to see it in order. But if this doesnt deter you from reading this review. Spoilers below)

-Andre is here. And is like "Wait, no drama this time?" Then is happy. I am still mad at you andre, but you are a mood

-I really hoped he was planning on leaving

-Wait a minute, they going right into it? Like no drama? Marinette and adrien about to kiss? NO WEIRDNESS? What is this?

-AND RIGHT ON CUE, interuption

-"Was that weird that he left tikki." "Bitch you both weird af"

-WAIT! THEY CONFESSED ALREADY! FUCKING FUCK GLOOB! I WHY WOULD YOU... I... SHIT BALLS DICK HOLE. FUCKING FUCK

-Okay, I am calm. But apparently they havent kissed officially yet

-So Marinette decided to back off on the scheduling thing which is why she doesnt know. Good for her

-Kagami fighting with her mom with kendo swords and then lila shows up...

-Lila... what are you up too. Also Kagami and Adrien are getting introduced as king and queen at this ball which is awkward af because they arent together

-Still has feelings... Oh.... oh no.

-"You arent a precious stone, you're just a stone!' ROASTED. Kagami roasting bitches by the open fire

-No kagami, you SHOULD mean to hurt her

-What the heck, Zoe out here blasting these parties. Good on her.

-Zoe being a good friend here and helping Marinette work stuff out and then giving her a means of getting into the ball.

-So the masks are the way to get in. Also Ali is there. Neat

-Nathalie being passive aggressive is fun

-Lila got denied!

-Kagami laughing over Marinette and adrien being together and having fun. She gets some joy out of that.

-Tikki growing so tired of Marinette's Bulls***

-Good thing those Mask dont have pictures of the person they actually look like.

-Why was adrien stunned at Kagami's ring... Unless... THATS NOT ADRIEN

-Amelie is here and Felix is missing?! Well that confirms my theory

-GET HIS ASS AMELIE

-He didnt invite her to the ball, what the f*** gabe

-"There is always a choice." damn Amelie. Putting Nathalie on blast

-How did she get that dress on so fast. Also Marinette is slaying it.

-They really just copy and pasted that one girl in the background like 5 times

-Chloé just took Marinette because she thinks she's a rich girl. Oh no

-Marinette saying her underling's name was Chloé which is funny to me. Girl shot her insult

-Kagami saying adrien is being the brave assertive guy she always wanted him to be, but Adrien (who I know isnt adrien) is being flirty af. That is Felix, 100%.

-I am like 99% sure Kagami is a sentimonster now

-Adrien/Felix really out here slinging massive dick energy. Like kagami is smitten but cant help but feel its off

-Marinette... thats not Adrien! OH NO

-Gabriel heard the name Marinette and IMMEDIATELY knew s*** was going wrong

-Marinette was precious and I cant help but think, Aww she doesnt

-Wait... IS it adrien? No it cant be something is off. He isnt adrien

-Wow these are lame rich kids

-THERE IT IS! I KNEW IT WAS FELIX

-Where is Adrien?! Also did Chloe just JUMP HER! OMG

-OH SHIT HE JUST TRANSFORMED. Also its dope af

-Wait did he just summon a moon? DID HE JUST GIVE HIMSELF THE POWER OF THANOS!?

-And Chloé is gone. Felix is MVP

-Argos, thats such a cool name

-Gabriel is gone! Felix you lovable little bastard. You are great. Keep it up

-Kagami looks so devastated. BABY GIRL

-Felix cares about his cousin, thats cute

-HE JUST DROPPED MARINETTE IN THE TRASH!

-Marinette wants payback! FOR STRIKEBACK

-OMG! HE GOT A MUSICAL NUMBER! FELIX GOING FULL DISNEY VILLAIN

-OMG I LOVE THIS SO MUCH UNIRONICALLY

-Felix just embracing it. I feel so much joy (10/10)

-Felix also says NO COPS

-Ladybug really letting Felix have it. Go girl!

-Felix just kicked her into a building.

-Wow... so the Peacock miraculous makes him super strong too? wtf

-Felix trying to make a better world with no masters or slaves.

-Tell me youre a sentimonster, without saying you are a sentimonster

-Felix really thought this out. So bascially saying he will thanos the world.

-Ladybug looking for a solution with... NOTHING?!

-Omg there is no solution. OMG THERE IS NO LUCKY CHARM

-Oh.... I get it hehehe

-Ladybug called his bluff.

-Yo... empty paris. Dark

-KAGAMI!

-Wait... Adrien? Did he ... oh he made the sentimonster earlier and snapped adrien first! thats how... OMG

-So he made the moon earlier in a ring. And they did all this to save adrien

-He planned this for weeks. DAMN so he hid it in the fake ring. Smart

-Its kind of funny that Kagami is just swinging at him like crazy, and Felix has been acting like a little kid thinking he did good. I feel kind of sad man

-You can be happy without your father adrien. But everything else you said is true

-Felix realizes he done goofed. Its sad he went from evil to adorable. Baby boy.

-Marinette's plan worked. Because Felix wasnt a true villain. Nice

-So Polygami coming back anyone? BRING ON THE THRUPPLE! -"My friend... My sister." Yea Felix is 100% a sentimonster

-Yo... can i give Felix a hug. He needs a hug

-Oh so now you can make ice cream for the 3 of them. Sure Andre. You bastard

-The ring... Gabriel... you son of a ....

-And apparently Lila knows he's monarch apparently?!

_____________________________________________________________

So I am missing a LOT of what happened. Thankfully it seems like i can piece together a few things.

Adrien, Kagami and Felix are like 99% likely to be Sentimonsters.

Yep... so thats a thing

I think I will rate this a 8/10.

I may not like all the revelations that happened. But Felix stole the show and I loved every scene he was in.

[winxrus]

Miraculous Awakening Movie - Review

WARNING

There are big spoilers in the text below and its author sucks at expressing her opinion which, guess what, absolutely no one asked for!!!

When this movie was announced, not only I struggled to welcome it as it was hard to understand how this would fit with the universe of the show, but also the character design was just odd. We adore the one from the series so why alter what is loved?

All this to say that I was never particularly hyped about the movie, but as a miraculer and a person who wanted to experience something that involved so many fans celebrating this show we all love, I just had to go.

I was square punched in the face by the visuals. This movie is a MUST to see on the big screen. Despite my hesitation towards the character design (which eventually grew on me), the musical numbers, particularly the romantic ones taking place in the sky brought me to tears. The colours, the low lights, the quality of the animation, the detail, the intensity of the characters (namely in the eyes)...*chef kiss* absolutely hit the spot.

Plot wise? I mean, it is literally if you wanted to compile the first 3 seasons of miraculous (no senti theories, lukanette, adrigami or,zoe though, more like season 1 plus Chat Blanc because we do get a WARNING SPOILER ALERT

"Chat Noir is Adrien, my son?" but with a Gabe completely out of character (based on his previous reactions to this in the series) and we get another reveal scenario which was very sweet but I felt like they could have played it differently ~SPOILER AHEAD~ I really loved Marinette putting his mask on and saying you can also call me ladybug but this doesn´t really prove she is who she claims to be right? I think she could have ended the one-sided reveal by using my favourite quote from the movie

Chat Noir "To everyone you´re the girl with the mask that saves the world, but to me, you are the girl who saved my heart" DUDE I sobbed (screaming internally because Marinette could have played with this quote as Chat Noir told this to her in private).

I sobbed with the romantic scenes in this film. Despite having to rush the romantic development between Adrinette and Ladynoir, it still felt very natural to my eyes which I was really happy with. Plus miraculous ladybug always knows how to play with my heartstrings regarding the love side of the story. It completely made me swoon (a big personal factor to have enjoyed it).

Nevertheless, the character development of Marinette, namely her overcoming her fears and believing in herself - exaclty what made me fall in love with her in the show and admire this charcter- instead of balancing out the romance, it became repetive and a bit exhausting. We are in the last 10 minutes of the film and Tikki is still preaching the same thing (don´t get me wrong, it is important to emphasise such message to the audience but I think they saturated it a bit).

Anywho, I think the fact that I went with no expectations for the film and accept whatever might come made me actually enjoy it more than I thought. A great part was also due to the atmosphere, which was so much fun. The audience was super vocal with their reactions, bringing a sense of community despite each of us being in our own little groups. We laughed (a lot, I completely forgot to highlight the humour of the movie *looks at careless whisper playing in the background everytime Adrien thinks of Ladybug*), screamed, cried and gasped together. So much fun.

I left the theatres quite elated but frustrated with the bloody teasing "almost kiss* scene at the very end. I actually believed I was gonna see Adrinette´s first kiss on the big screen but :)))))) JDNDJESINVIFESN. I also left incredibly confused because as I said, the movie doesn´t match whatsoever the series, and ended on a vague note - HEADSUP - After Gabriel is revealed to be Hawkmoth to both Chat Noir aka his son and Marinette/Ladybug, the dude just disappeared and we don´t get a reaction from Adrien?? It immediately skips to Adrinette (no complaints LOL) and then you hear Gabriel narrating a message to Nathalie to protect Adrien and never let him know that he hides Emelie´s body in the basement? The dad´s a bloody terrorist what difference doesa another crime make? Does this mean there will be a second movie? Will we forever live with God knows how many miraculous ladybug universes? "AMERICA EXPLAINNNN"

I have heard people who didn´t like it beacause it was purely fanfiction and didn´t make sense, I personally advise you to go with an open mind, chilled and with the intention to have a good time. I sure did! I will carry this experience with me forever <3 all this to say that my score may be also highly biased by that hahah. Byeee!

P.S - I did not comment on the music because I was a bit disappointed that the original French voices (warning the French dub is my favourite) were not the singing ones. They used Lou and Lenni-Kim which despite them being talented I didn´t feel like it suited them. So...I´m gonna wait for the English soundtrack to formulate an opinion. I liked the lyrics of the new song though (Last Dance soundtrack)

[felassan]

Snippets. 🐺💜

Corinne Busche celebrates 5 years at BioWare! [source]

Devs Michelle Flamm and Gabe Graziani: "feels weird that 'the last game informer cover game is a game I worked on' is a thing I can say now" / "And all of the exclusive coverage we did with them is just... gone." [source, two]

Jon Renish: "It's just a coincidence but, the last cover for Game Informer is 'Dragon Age: The Veilguard', the last printed Prima strategy guide was 'Anthem'." [source]

John Epler: "christ. seeing game informer shutting down is awful. seeing them shut down literally three months after spending time with them is fucking me up. hope everyone lands on their feet. unbelievable." [source]

Jay Ingram (on GI): "Oh my gosh. It was always so exciting to see what the cover story of a month would be, and then even more so as a dev when you showcase games I've been privileged to work on. This is so sad. Thank you for everything. I wish you all the best. Truly the end of an era" [source]

Derek Wilks: "Seriously hate to see Game Informer go. They’ve been my go to for years. Always loved their magazines. They will be greatly missed. It’s a bittersweet honor to have our game as their last cover story. Wish they could have continued forever. 💔" [source]

User: "Will Briala make another appearance in the future (not necessarily in Veilguard)?" Trick Weekes: "Anyone who didn’t die onscreen could potentially show up again someday." [source]

[Here] is the link to costume builder Ladytoxie's SDCC V-log! Ladytoxie was invited to the DA:TV@SDCC Fandom party, at which they cosplayed Bellara. In the vlog, they discuss their Bellara cosplay, the process of creating it, their experience going by the BioWare booth at SDCC, and their Fandom party experience with the devs. The vlog also includes a bonus short interview with the devs from SDCC. In the vlog you can see that, along with the dragon screenshot, an alternative option for the background of the DA:TV photo booth pic was this tavern screenshot that we've seen. Ladytoxie also mentioned in the vlog that it's clear how much love and work the devs have put into the game [source]

^ The devs talked a bit about DA/the game & characters in the bonus interview. I'm not 100% sure if I heard all these details right, so apologies/correct me if I misheard, missed or misunderstood any of it (listening to the original source first-hand is of course always most advisable!!), but it sounded like: Corinne Busche feels most connected to Maevaris Tilani. Corinne Busche loves the qunari and would cosplay as Taash, as she loves the scale, armor and Rivaini gold. Her favorite companion is Emmrich. John Epler would cosplay as Lucanis, calling him so stylish and suave. It sounded like he said he wrote Bellara and a few other characters. Ashley Barlow would cosplay as Neve, saying that she has [awesome] dialogue, quick wit and is sassy. Parrish Ley would cosplay as Davrin. He said that Davrin has some awesome armor pieces, with the hands and feet being lots of interlocking pieces of metal. Parrish Ley is a big face and hands animator, so when he's animating Davrin's armor, his hands and feet get a lot of focus, so that he looks great in any pose from any angle. [source] <- Check out the vlog here!

User: "bioware, it is now the second of august." Dev Jess: "Soon 😄" [source] User: "On my knees groveling for more information on Taash" Jess: "soon :)" [source]

User: "Coming back to say Thank you so very much for Veilguard! Coming back to Thedas feels like Home!!". Derek Wilks: "It’s absolutely our pleasure. We’ve truly made something that we love, and hope you all love it too. 🧡" [source]

User on Fenris in DA2: "coolest character introduction ever". Derek Wilks: "So far 😊" [source]

[theshimadaslovers]

~FROM CAKES FOR REAPER~

BREATHING;LIES

PART 6

*one month later*

Mercy- Are you ready, Gabe? *slowly opening the door*

Gabe- Hm...is suppose to be the whole Reaper's outfit? Is that really necessary?

Mercy- *walk in and chuckles* Yes! The skin is our biggest organ, it will take a feel days to be complete again. Does it hurt?

Gabe- Yeah, a little. But I'm fine. *pick up the mask and smirk* Is amazing that I don't need that shit again.

Mercy- Why don't you make a surprise for her and put the mask on?

Gabe- *look at the mask again* Hm...not a bad idea.

Mercy- Do it! *giggles putting the mask on him* She's waiting for you!

Gabe- *laughs* Yes! I'm going...I'm feeling so nervous.

Mercy- *sighs and smile* Is good to have you back, commander.

Gabe- Yes...thanks to you, doctor.

Mercy- Nein, thanks to Y/N...but me too. *tap his chest* Now, go find her!

*He take a deep breath walking out the room and going to the corridor. He immediately find someone on the hallway*

Gabe- ... aw shit...*sighs feeling nervous*

Jack- *surprised* Gabe...*smirk and walk to him* Are you back?

Gabe- *looked away* Hm...yeah...*take of his mask and look at him* I'm back, boss.

Jack- *smile* Don't call me like that...you never called before.

Gabe- Well, you're the boss...aren't you?

*Jack giggled and pull Gabe for a huge hug, for a second Gabriel felt a little confused and afraid of the pain, normally...nothing could touch him, used to hurt, everything, but now... for a long time, a hug was painlessly*

*Gabe hugged back his old best friend, a tight hug*

Jack- I missed you, Gabriel...never do some shit like that again.

Gabe- *chuckles* It was only my rebellion time... I'm so sorry, for everything.

Jack- *step away holding his arms* Why you still look young? *laughs*

Gabe- I never aged, actually...well, I'm missing the blonde hair...

Jack- Shut up! *laughs pushing him* Oh my... This is weird. We were trying to kill each other months ago.

Gabe- Yeah...*look at his mask and sighs* I'm sorry, Jack, about everything. About my rebellion, for destroy Overwatch...everything.

Jack- Hey, pal... it's ok now. Past stay in the past, right? Let's focus on the future of Gabriel Reyes as the strike commander of Overwatch again.

Gabe- *smirk* You're really gonna to trust me for that one more time?

Jack- Gabe, you're my best friend...you're back from the death. Of course I'll give a second chance to you.

- Gabe?

Gabe- *look at the end of the corridor and smile* Hi, Ana...

Ana- Oh my Egyptians...! *take her hand to her mouth starting to cry while approaching him* Is so good to see you again! Oh, Gabriel! *hug him tightly* Hansdome as always!

Gabe- Argh...! You still strong! *laughs and hug back* And you still charming as always, Amari.

Jack- *laughs* The trio is back!

Ana- And the smile on your grumpy face too, Jack *laughs whipping her tears* Oh dear, Gabe... Reinhardt will be happy too.

Gabe- By the way...*smirk* You too are having something those days?

Ana- Oh, Gabriel! Stop it! *the trio laugh*

- DID I HEARD MY NAME?! *On the backgrounds*

Gabe- What the fu...?! *saw him appearing on the hallway a little lost* Rein?!

Rein- What?! That voi-?! *look at him and open a big smile ready to yell*

Ana- Reinhardt! Shhhhh! *Laughing* Don't!

Rein- *approaching trying not to freak out* Why "shh", Ana...?! Is Gabriel! IS GAB-! *Ana cover his mouth*

Ana- Don't let Y/n hear you, dummy!

Rein- Mmmm! *hold her hand and whispers* Can I hug him?

Ana- ... Yes!

Gabe- Aw shit...! *Rein pick him up smashing him in a bear hug* AaARrG...! Is good to see...you too...! Rein! Aw! My back!

Rein- I missed my grumpy fella! *kiss his cheek* My little angry boy!

Gabe- Come on! Not the kiss! *blush*

Jack- *laughing* Right! We need to make a surprise to y/n... you're important for her too.

Gabe- Where is she? *Rein stills holding him*

Ana- With the girls in the games room, I believe. She's kind depressed, not having a good fun.

Rein- Yeah, you should go there quickly, my friend! *put him down* And I'm sorry about the way I act when you came, I was an little bit nervous about y/n! She's our little girl, right, Jack?

Jack- *sighs* Yeah...Golden heart girl. Now go find her, idiot! *pull him to the hallway* I'll burn the mask after that.

Gabe- *chuckle* You can do whatever you want with it...*put the mask on* Wish me lucky.

Ana- You don't need that *smile* She loves you already.

Gabe- Right...she does *sighs and blush inside* Yeah, I'm going!

*At the game room*

Tracer- Noo! Satya! This is not the one you play Monopoly!

Satya- What? I only bought a mansion.

Tracer- You can't do that now!

Satya- *annoyed face*

Tracer- *sighs* Fine! Take the random mansion...

Satya- Perfect *smile*

Hana- *playing PS5* Y/n? Are you sure you don't want to do nothing?

You- Hm? *scrolling the phone on the sofa and look at her* No...I'm fine, my head is not feeling well.

Brigitte- *playing with Hana* Overthinking?

You- Yeah... If...if does not work? Angela dosen't let me see him. If something went wrong?

Kiriko- Look, I barely know this guy...but! Angela is amazing! *sit beside you and take your hand* Nothing can go wrong in her hands.

Genji- Yeah! Like me! *playing monopoly too*

Tracer- Hiw would you feel seeing him again, Genji?

Genji- More than happy! He was my boss! I admired him so much! I'd like to see his grumpy have again!

You- *smirk* Me too...

*someone knock the door and open right after*

Lucio- Y/n? Ana is calling you, she's at the balcony.

You- Is everything ok? Is about Reaper? *you get up*

Lucio- I don't know *laugh nervously* She asked me to call you, that's all. I hope everything is ok too.

You- Ok, Lu...thanks, I'll be there in a minute.

Lucio- Ok, see ya! *close the door*

Hana- *pause the game* Are you ok?

You- A little anxious...*take a deep breath* When is Ana, something serious happened *you speak with anguish* I'm going.

Brigitte- Keep breathing, girl, everything is fine.

You- Thanks, sis. *smile and goes outside*

Genji- ... She really likes him.

Tracer- Yeah, is so cute, but so worry. She falled in love with an enemy.

Hana- Not a enemy anymore.

Tracer- We never know if he still working with Talon! He could act anytime against us.

Brigitte- Honestly? Look what he did for her. Impossible to think that he would be against her. He became so soft!

Hana- Truee~ And y/n is veeeery pretty! Of course he falled in love with her! This is so cute!~ AIGO!~

Tracer- I don't know, I'm still a little scared of him.

Genji- Well, he was scary as fuck.

Satya- Well, and I don't know much about Gabriel Reyes. Let's play, please, I need more mansions.

*At the balcony, Ana was waiting for you while drinking a tea*

You- Ana? Wanted to see me?

Ana- Yes, darling...*smile turning to look at you* But someone wants to see you more than I do. *Gabe, as Reaper appears behind you and you turn*

You- RIP! *Immediately hug him and step back again* Oh no! Wait! Still hurts?! Are you ok?!

Gabe- *smirk and pull you to a tigh hug covering your body with his arms*

Ana- He is more than ok, Y/n. I'll let you both alone to enjoy each other. *she walked away*

Gabe- *let you go and hold your face* You look tired...

You- *eyes watering* Gabe...your voice...

Gabe- Yes...*chuckles* I'm back.

You- *hesitat to take his mask* I...can..I? *he nodded*

*Slowly you grab his mask taking it off, your eyes wide open and your face blush hard*

You- Oh my...! *take a hand to your mouth laughing and crying of happiness* It worked! Oh my goodness, it worked!

Gabe- *laughs* Yes, thanks to you...I'm alive again... *he gently grab your hand putting against his chest* Now, there's a healthy heart beating inside of me. I'm breathing.

You- I'm so happy for you, Gabe...! *crying out* I'm so relieved...! *hug him crying on his chest* I was so scared!

Gabe- *surprised and worried* Hey...I'm here. I'm back. *hug you back* I'm happy for us.

You- *step away looking at him, he hold your face with a smile, you laugh* Your smile...! You never smiled for me before...

Gabe- Get used to it *chuckles* Cause with you, I'll be smiling until the day I die.

You- *you looked at him surprised* Gabe...

Gabe- You accept me when I was Reaper...when I was your enemy. You did that because of Jack, I've heard about it. You could have died...

You- I know...I wanted to try...I needed to try.

Gabe- You dummy...*smiles given a kiss in your forehead, making you shivers feeling his soft lips for the first time* You saved me.

*He pull gently your face against his given a long peck on the lips, followed by other and other...until you finally return with a kiss full of love, taking your hand to the back of his head and caressing his hair, making him surprise and melt by the feeling he didn't felt for ages. You feel his hands slide down to your waist pulling you more against him, what makes you giggled and hug him by the neck, intensifying the kiss*

Gabe- *break the kiss given many pecks in your face* !!!

You- *laughs and blush* Gabe! Your bear! It giggles!

Gabe- We should to a privacy place...*chuckles now kissing your neck*

You- Oh! Stop it! *laughs pushing his face away while he laugh* Just because you're all handsome now?

Gabe- I wasn't before?

You- Well...yes, just a little more destroyed. *both laugh* After everything you pass through...I think you deserve something.

Gabe- *giggles kissing your face again*

*Suddenly, the emergency siren went crazy on the base, that became all red by the emergency light*

Gabe- What...?! *look back*

Jack- *on the background* What is happening?!

Lucio- Sir! Is Talon!

Gabe- Fuck! *look at you again* Please! Hide yourself somewhere!

You- What?! No! They'll be after you!

Gabe- Trust me! They'll try to kill you first! Go! *try to let you go but you pull him again* Y/N!

You- No! *crying and angry* I'll fight by your side! I'll kill them for us! For the world's sake!

Gabe- Y/n...*sighs*

You- Is not fair...why now?!

Ana- Gabriel! Y/n! Positions!

Gabe- Promise! Don't leave my side!

You- I promise...! And remember that you're not Reaper anymore...!

*both ran to your positions and Gabe, without his shotguns for now, have one of Soldier 76 guns. Talon's soldiers invade the Overwatch base and you pick up some other guns positioning with Gabriel, Ana and Jack Morrison starting to shoot*

Jack- Is too many of them!

Gabe- We can do this, Jack! Like the old times! *laughs* Let's revenge...!

*At the door, where they were coming in, Moira appers while looking around*

Moira- Hm...looks the same. What a shame.

Ana- Moira...!

Gabriel- Aw! Why her?! Dammit!

Moira- *spot Gabriel and you* Oooh...that was an easy find *smirk*

Jack- Moira!

Moira- Long time no see, Morrison *laughs* Did I have a great entrance? I hope so. Now...*points to you* I need this little...bitch.

You- *feels your body shivers and point the gun to her* Try me...Monster!

Gabe- *get in front of you* Not until I live!

Moira- *look at him a little surprised* Oooh, now I see...*smirk* Angela did a great work. It reminds me the time when you use to be a traitor to Overwatch.

Gabe- Yeah? Well, unfortunately, for you, I'm not anymore! Surrender!

Moira- *laughs* Why? Because you said so? Do you really think I came alone? She's ready to shoot when I demand.

Ana- *eyes wide open* Amelie...! *Run to the balcony*

Jack- ANA!

Moira- Wants to lose your other eye? Go ahead... Lacroix will be glad. So...you. *look at you* You destroyed my best experiment.

Gabe- *growls* You talk to me! Not her! You fucking monster!

You- Jack...go help Ana, please.

Jack- I won't leave you both alone!

You- And you will leave her with Lacroix?!

Jack- I...! *growls and run going to find Ana*

Moira- *sighs* Right...*prepare her Biotic Grasp* You don't have the same abilities, Reyes. Careful.

Gabe- I don't need careful...

You- Yes, you do, idiot.

*At the balcony*

Ana- *trying to spot Lacroix*

Jack- Ana! You're to vulnerable! Get out of there!

Ana- She will try to kill Y/n...! I need to find her first!

Jack- You're not being a professional! *Grab her shoulder*

Ana- She's like a daughter to you! *turn to him annoyed* Be the father she never had and protect her!

Jack- Lacroix will try to kill you this time, Amari! One more shot is all she need! You can't beat her!

Ana- You think! *run away going inside the base again*

Jack- An-! Dammit!

*Back to Gabe*

Moira- You think that bullets will kill me?

Gabe- I know your tricks.

Moira- One sign to Lacroix shoot whoever I want....*look at you*

Gabe- *look at the window and you* Get out of the window, Y/n!

Moira- Ooh no no, you don't know where she's! *laughs* She's not that obvious. *Moira rise her hand point to Gabriel that immediately had a shot on the shoulder*

Gabe- ARGH...! *Fall forward*

You- Gabriel! *growls starting to shoot against Moira that disappears* MOIRA! SHOW YOUR FACE!

Gabe- Y/n! STOP IT! *Try to get up* Dammit...! She poisoned the bullets?! Argh!

Moira- I guess his body wasn't that ready to be injured *laughs appearing behind you, you frozed* Don't...move.

Gabe- What...?! I can't move! *His body started to squirm* Aah...!

You- *In a fast movement, you turn around trying to hit her with the gun, but you got shoot on the leg* Ah...! *you try not to fall and hold the gun to not drop* Fuck...!

Moira- So professional...*laugh* Such a good trained spy. *hold you face* If you were in Talon, honey...you wouldn't be that useless.

You- *range teeth* I swear...! I'll cut your head off, witch!

Moira- *chuckles* Lovely, try me! *squish your face with her nails* Cause you gonna be a perfect rabbit for my experiments!

Gabe- Y/n...! Get out of here!

You- *you grab her wrist* Try me...! *you move your other arms hitting her with the gun on the side of her head and shot her biotic liquid backpack, making it leak*

Moira- Ah...! No! *growls* So you really wanna try...! I won't dirty my hands! Lacroix! (*earphone*Lacroix: I got her...!!)

Gabe- No! *getting up* Get down!

You- *ready to shoot Moira* You fucking bitch... this is for everything you have done to Gabriel!

Moira- DO IT! *nothing* LACROIX?! Do it...! *in panic*

Gabe- *laughs standing up* I think Ana finally won a fight against her. Without your backpack, you're nothing!

Moira- No! *try to realise an orb but failed* No! NO! *disappears*

You- Dammit! *try to walk but falls* Argh! My le..! Ah!

Gabe- Y/n...! Stay down!

You- They need help! And she escaped!

Gabe- Leave her! *pick you up and screams in pain because of the shoulder* We need to go...!

You- What...?! No! I won't run away!

Gabe- They're Overwatch! *Both hear Winston Primal Rage* See? We have a fucking angry gorilla! We need to hide!

You- You would never hide!

Gabe- Yes! Reaper wouldn't! But Reyes yes! I'm injured, you're injured! And I won't let you fucking die! They won't us! *starts to run through the base*

Angela- *appears holding her pistols* Gabriel! Y/n! Mein gott! What happened?! *approaching*

Gabe- How Is everyone?!

Angela- Fighting, we're holding well! *look at your leg* Oh no! I couldn't pick up my Caduceu! It was too fast!

Gabe- They did a stupid attack! Moira attacked us and Lacroix!

Angela- Ana fight her...we captured Amelie.

You- *giggles* Oh Ana...

Angela- This is end soon...! *hear some soldiers approaching* Still have more?!

Gabe- *starting to feel raged* GRR! Angela! Take her to a safety place!

You- No! Gabriel! The fuck you're going to do?!

Gabe- I know what I'm doing...! *you could see his eyes becoming red*

You- What...? *He put you down while Angela hold you beside her* No...! Wait!

Gabe- I promise come back alive! *hold your face kissing your forehead and running away*

*father at the base; at the vehicles garage*

Brigitte- There's more!

Lucio- MORE?! What the hell?! They're like ants! Que porra!

Rein- *open the shield* Like ants?! So call me a tamandua! HAHAHAA! I'll eat them up!

Tracer- Come on, Rein...*sighs*

*Gabriel arrives looking at the ships sending down more soldiers*

Gabriel- More?!

Genji- A lot more! *arrives as well*

Gabriel- They're not humans...they're making soldiers with omics! *pick up the gun on his back* POSITIONS!

Rein- HEHE! I MISSED THAT VOICE!

Gabriel- ATTACK! Genji, Lucio! Attack from behind!

Lucio- Sim, senhor!

Genji- Yoshi!

Gabriel- Where's Jack and Ana?!

Tracer- *appears* With Lacroix! We captured that bitch! *laughs and goes to the battle*

*On the basement*

Ana- Amelie... *crunches in front of her that was tied up* Listen to me...

Widow- Go to hell...! *feeling the pain of her shot*

Jack- Is that dard poisoned?

Ana- Yes...only I can make it stop the pain *show the yellow antidote* So...we need to talk, Amelie. We need to finish this Talon organization.

Widow- You don't know what you're talking about!

Jack- Where's Doomfist?

Widow- *laughs* You shouldn't worry only with him...there's so many in Talon's backstage.

(*Jack earpiece communication* Rein- Jack! We need reinforcements!!)

Jack- I'll be right there and contact the other base!

Widow- *giggles* So Overwatch is spread out? What a good team...

Ana- Shut up, Amelie...we want to help you!

Widow- I didn't asked too!

Jack- Ana...We have to go.

Ana- I can't leave her here.

Jack- Just...be careful.

Ana- Jack, go!

*Angela's lab*

Angela- *slowly opening the door* The area is clear...come in, y/n.

You- Angie...*sighs*

Angela- Something's wrong?

You- I...I saw his eyes.

Angela- Gabe? *you nodded* What do you mean?

You- Something stills consuming him...somehow.

Angela- *take a deep breath looking away* Well, I...I couldn't drain everything, Y/n.

You- You... couldn't? What do you mean? I could not? It wasn't possible?

Angela- I didn't want too...

You- Angela...! *you look at her angry* What?! You...! I thought you would save him! You said that would take everything off him! It hurts him!

Angela- With the skills, he's stronger!

You- He's already a super soldier! He don't need to be Reaper anymore!

Angela- He is not! I regenerate his cells to complete...! He's not in the same pain anymore! He can do so much with those abilities that Moira gave to him!

You- You...! *Try to approache her but falls* Argh! You! You shouldn't! No! You promised!

Angela- *try to help you but you refuse* Y/n...! I saved him and only let him with the Reaper skills!

You- And he dosen't know it?!

Angela- No...only if he feels a strong anger.

You- ANGELA! I trusted you to clean him up! He wanted to be cleaned! *started to cry in angry still in the ground* He already suffered too much! Why can you help him without thinking in yourself?!

Angela- This was for Overwatch!

You- NO! Yourself! *standing up with difficult* You lied...! That's what makes me angry! You gave him a false hope...! Next time...you clean him up! 200%...!

Yes, I made Moira weak as fuck, sorry LOL, I'm still trying to write good battle scenes.

Continue...

[aayo-whatt]

✨~got bored so i put the winchester gays and their angel "buddies" in an incorrect quotes generator~✨

PART THREE BABES

~~

Gabe: *slams books down in front of Michael* Gabe: Boil up some Mountain Dew. It’s gonna be a long night. Michael: You could of said literally anything else. Gabe: Cauldron boil and cauldron bubble, Baja Blast to fuel my trouble. Michael: I’m going to just stop challenging you when you say random shit. I won’t win. I realize this now.

~~

Dean: If I see a bug, I simply leave the room elegantly and require someone else do something about it. Dean: If no one fulfills my wish, I simply never go back in there.

~~

Michael: Self care is stuff like taking a bubble bath or putting on a lot of make up if you like that, or taking a nice warm nap and stuff like that basically. Adam: Self care is the burning heat when rage washes over you. self care is when you feel the bones crack under your powerful fists. self care is the fear in your enemies eyes. Cas: Self care is stealing someones birthday cake just to eat the frosting. Adam: If you touch my birthday cake I’ll make you eat your hands.

~~

Dean: Someone’s trying to break in. Call the cops! Cas: *loads shotgun* I got this. Dean: Last week you fell up the stairs, what do you mean-

~~

Adam: I need a long word. Dean: T-rex but the long one.

~~

Adam: *running towards Michael with open arms* Michael: *moves out of the way* Adam: Hey, why'd you move?! Michael: I thought you were going to attack me. Adam: I was going to hug you! Michael: Why would you hug me? Adam: WHY WOULD I ATTACK YOU!?

~~

Dean: Like, no offense to myself and all, but what the fuck am I actually doing?

~~

Michael: Someone care to explain why we have 6 dogs in our apartment? Gabe: They're golden retrievers, dude. They retrieve gold. I did this for us.

~~

Adam: Don't ask me what I'm talking about. I don't know, okay? I'm just the vessel. The message has been gifted. I've moved on.

i saw vessel and just copied & pasted-

~~

Gabe: Someone take me to art museums and make out with me. Sam: But they said not to touch the masterpieces. Gabe: Well somebody's got to pin the artwork to the wall. Adam, on a walkie talkie: This is Adam, those idiots are fucking around in the East wing again.

~~

*In a group chat* Dean: A pegan just flew into my window. Sam: Pegan? Gabe: A what? Adam: Ah yes, my favourite bird, Pegan. Michael: I thought you said penguin for a second, LMAO! Cas: Just a normal day with flying penguins crashing into my window. Michael: You have pigeons flying into your window? Can't relate, I have penguins flying into my window. Dean: I literally just made a typo-

~~

Gabe: *writing a letter* Gabe: Dear Santa, I'm writing to let you know I've been naughty... And it was worth it you fat, judgemental bastard.

~~

Dean: I need to dye my hair. Michael: ... Dean: Or get another tattoo. Michael: ... Dean: Or a new piercing. Michael: Why? Dean: To, you know, appease the mental breakdown gods.

~~

Dean: What did you order this morning? Adam: What do you mean? Dean: I heard you answer the door, and I sensed food.

~~

Dean: And I’d love to be sorry for that, but we all know I’ve done much, much worse.

~~

Gabe: Am I going to far? Michael: No, no, no. You went too far about 7 hours ago. Now you’re going to prison.

~~

Sam: You three, explain right now! Michael: It was Dean. Adam: It was Dean. Cas: It was Dean. Dean: Dean: …fuck.

~~

Adam: Ayo, what the FUCK is this?!? Dean, sitting down, surrounded by corpses: I won Mafia, that’s what.

~~

Gabe: Wow, left handed AND British? You really are an illusion.

~~

Adam: I’m gonna mix a can of Red Bull with seventeen shots of espresso in a fishbowl and then chug it while Kids by MGMT plays in the background so I can perceive twenty-three spatial dimensions and fight my own soul.

Michael sitting next to him: 😐😑😐

~~

Adam: Why are you like this?? Dean: I used too much "No More Tears" shampoo as a kid and I haven't felt a single emotion since.

~~

Gabe: You’re my best friend, I would do anything for you. Sam: I want you to eat 3 meals a day and have a decent sleep schedule. Gabe: Absolutely not.

~~

Adam: The floor is lava! Michael: *helps Dean onto the counter* Sam: *kicks Cas off the sofa* Gabe: *lays on the floor* Adam: ...Are you okay? Gabe: No.

~~

Adam: If I fall down these stairs, I'm just going to lay down and accept my fate.

~~

Cas: Can I offer you a nice stick in this trying time?

~~

Adam: Valentine’s day is just a consumerist holiday that holds no real value other than drive people insane buying heart shaped chocolates for their significant others and pos- Michael: I wrote you a poem. Adam, already crying:You did?

~~

Cas: Everyone thinks I'm this soft cute person but I'm not! Dean: Cas, you cried for an hour after stepping on a bug yesterday. Cas: It had feelings! It was probably going home to dinner and I killed it! Sam: ...It was a bug. Cas: It was a BEETLE, and its wife is definitely worried sick, wondering where it is, and I really don't get why you all think I'm so sentimental because I'm not! Dean: ... Sam: ... Cas: Stop looking at me like that!

~~

Michael: I'm not mean. Name one mean thing I’ve ever done. Cas: When we were younger, you convinced me eggs weren't real. Michael: They're not. Cas: Haha, very funny. Michael: I'm serious. Didn't you hear? Cas: No... what happened? Michael: ...Why would you fall for this again-

~~

Sam: You need to be more careful! Gabe, who was dragged into Sam's issue: Careful? CAREFUL?! I'LL CAREFULLY WRAP MY HANDS AROUND YOUR THROAT-

~~

Dean: How many vampires do you think have been hit by a car backing up in a parking lot because the driver couldn’t see their reflection? Michael: I’ve never considered it but you’re really shining light on what’s probably a very serious issue.

~~

PART 1 PART 2

[lycanlovingvampyre]

MAG 136 Relisten

Activity on my first listen: putting up a new fence.

MELANIE: “Well. I’ve kinda got to… uh. (inhale) I’ve got somewhere to be. Do you mind if – if she hangs around with…?” JON: "Uh, I suppose – Not at all. She’s very welcome." I think it's super cute that Daisy doesn't want to be alone. Yeah, the reason for this is quite tragic and sad... I think this was the episode that made me go "Oh shit, I really like Daisy now!" to 100 %! I love everything about this episode!

JON: "If you don’t mind me asking – where are you off to?" [UNFORTUNATELY FOR BOTH OF THEM, THE ARCHIVIST’S SIGNATURE STATIC RUMBLES LOW IN THE BACKGROUND AS HE SPEAKS.] MELANIE: "Therapy. (surprised inhale) Wait…" I read a post about this once, that the Eye won't chose random information for Jon to suddenly drop into his mind. It's always something bad or intrusive (like suddenly knowing how Gertrude stopped the Sunken Sky. Or how one of Basira's school teachers died). Wouldn't be surprised, if this also got a grip on questions which could reveal a "dark secret". Like here, it wasn't a coincidence that compulsion slipped out with the question. It's the Eye choosing to act on it's own because there's juicy personal information to acquire. There's nothing Jon could have done to stop that, aside from just not asking this question. But that's why he's the Archivist, he always asked this kind of questions.

MELANIE: "It’s fine. I would probably have told you eventually anyway." Uhhh, am I the only one who thinks this line sounds a bit weird...? Especially the "It's fine". This doesn't sound like Lydia at all... Could this actually be Alex??? (Wouldn't be the first time we suspect him impersonating Lydia/Melanie - MAG 103).

"One of my earliest memories is cowering behind my mother, watching Labyrinth of the Minotaur on our tiny television, seeing the clay of the creature move and come alive in stop-motion. It terrified me. It thrilled me. It’s a moment that’s never completely left me. I’ve always had two passions: engineering and special effects. So naturally, the course of my life gradually led me towards working on animatronics. I don’t – care about the other stuff, not really. A squib’s a squib no matter how much you dress it up, and… (inhales) makeup never really wowed me." 1.) Not really-counter of S4: 4! 2.) I totally know that feeling. For me it was Jurassic Park. I guess this is also why I've always loved Stan Winston's work the most out of all practical FX studios and artists I follow. I have no idea about engineering, but I'm good at sculpting and crafting. Naturally, SFX make-up always fascinated me as well and they often work closely together (part make-up / part costume / part animatronics). It's just so damn expensive to make myself, the prices for silicone and resin skyrocketed the last couple of years. I want to make an animatronic mask soooo badly... Luckily my spouse is an engineer and I have a few of tutorials from the Stan Winston School membership, so one day! *fingers crossed*

"His earlier stuff I certainly enjoyed, but… for all my fondness for that – animated Minotaur, his stop-motion work never really grabbed me like his animatronics." You know why stop-motion looks so jerky? Lack of motion blur. That's when go-motion came into play. They'd move the model slightly during exposure of that frame, recreating motion blur by doing this. The dragon Vermithrax in Dragonslayer was the best example for this, but it already went quite high-tech to achieve this. (ILM, Phil Tippet btw.)

"The way Neil tells it, he split from his partner Gabe in 1972, and sculpting for stop-motion had never really had the same charm after that." Gabe... Short for Gabriel. Sculpting, like with Clay^^ Lagorio was like "Yeah, the Spiral is too random for me, I need precision!!"

"I think we bonded on that shoot, sheltering from the rain for hours at a time, watching a soggy animatronic jaguar gradually start to rust." Everybody knows the story of the T-Rex in the rain, right? If not, so they build the T-Rex without the information that it's supposed to be raining in that scene. Well... the foam latex skin acted like a sponge and it got too heavy! This caused the T-Rex to shiver, so they had to dry her in-between shots (there are pictures of people whipping towels at the dino XD). This is also the reason why the roof of the car broke and came down onto the children. This was not planned! But the T-Rex got too heavy so the calculations weren't correct anymore and so it hit that glass roof with way too much force, oof.

OMG wait! Is that my favorite ambiance track there?? OMG it is! I totally missed that it was used here! Episode got even better now!

JON: "Mm, they were… Well, let’s just say it’s not a complete shock there was something unnatural to them." Mr. “watches documentaries for fun” saw a few of Neil Lagorio's movies! Not surprised since he read a lot as a kid, why wouldn't Jon be into fiction?

DAISY: (sigh) "She’s Web. Spider’s sneaky like that. Like that lighter you’re always using; where’d you get that?" JON: "Mm. Good point. We should keep our eyes open. Anyways –" Hahaha, there's even static during "Good point". I can't wait to tell my story about the lighter, it's hilarious.

DAISY: (sigh) "Yeah, well – (sigh) What do you think? You think I’m weak, just – (sigh) – ‘cause I’m not already chasing the next kill? You think I’m less me?" JON: "I – (sigh) I don’t feel like I’m exactly in the best place to judge the… intersection between free will and humanity. (stuttering inhale) I’m still trying to figure that out myself." Those two <3 I'm happy Jon has someone this season who gets him. Who he can talk to. I love their friendship so much...

JON: "My – (large sigh) My memories of the coma are not clear, but I know I made a choice; I made a choice to become… something else. Because I was afraid to die. But ever since then, I – I don’t know if I made the right decision; I’m stronger now, tougher, I can – (he cuts himself off) If I do die, now, or get sealed away somewhere forever? I don’t know if that’s a bad thing. And I don’t want to lose anyone else, so if I can maybe – stop that happening, and the only danger is to me, I – I’ll do it in a heartbeat; worst case scenario, the universe loses another monster." DAISY: "That’s messed up." JON: (small laugh) (inhale) "Yeah. I suppose it is." Jon. Stop it. Get some help.

JON: "It, uh – hm – Is it, uh – Weird question, but – I – (sigh) I haven’t seen you in my dreams? The last couple of weeks?" DAISY: "Oh, ah – No, I – I work here now. Figured it seemed to protect the others, so –" That sounded like that relative "I haven't seen you in so long, you never visit me!" XD But further confirmation, that the dreams stop when you're working for the institute.

DAISY: “Boo-hoo, I’m so alone and a monster.” Yeah, those two <3

DAISY: (darkly) "If she doesn’t, I’ll rip her throat out." I love the sound of that line!

Putting that therapy scene into a Web episode was such a mean red herring!

@a-mag-a-day