#but like in a oh those poor bastards kind of way

[arolesbianism]

Brainstorming ideas for some side characters for the toy story and my initial concept for them was to go super stereotypical dnd party but I can already feel myself drifting off that path because I need to do fun stuff with my worldbuilding or I will explode and die

[ghcstao3]

AU where ghost is a relatively famous voice actor—by name, anyway. he’s never shown his face in those ‘behind-the-scenes’ videos, doesn’t do red carpets for the bigger productions, always leaves the press junkets to his colleagues. he loves his job, don’t get him wrong, it’s fun and creative and he’s met some really great people, he just… has never wanted to be in the limelight. that’s not for him.

and it’s easy to get away with, because all of the voices he uses are not really his. there’s elements of him, sure, but nothing someone in person could necessarily place, unless they really listened close and were some kind of super fan. in real life, ghost is soft spoken, and maybe his voice is a little rough from the years before he learned how to properly take care of his vocal cords, but it’s still completely separate from all his characters. that was a rule he stuck with throughout his career—no using his real voice.

soap likes to consider himself a fan of simon riley.

(of his work, obviously. just his work. he definitely isn’t intrigued or anything by the mystery that is the voice actor. nuh uh. not at all.)

he’s seen just about every film and show that features one of the actor’s many voices, knows what little trivia is known of him, and, ultimately, he really respects the guy. his younger sister had finally landed herself a sizeable role in voice acting pretty recently after years of odds and ends, and soap knows how difficult it is to make it in the industry. so what if he may also have a little bit of a crush on the unknown man’s talent?

and so what if that little crush has presently brought him to a bookstore, because soap had heard simon would be voicing a character in some adaptation and soap wanted to get himself caught up? it’s fine. it’s normal. totally normal.

it’s in search of the book when soap accidentally stumbles into an absolute brick-wall of a man as he rounds the corner. soap mutters out apologies, goes to move past him, but then looks up and melts, just a little. because it’s then that soap discovers the prettiest set of brown eyes he thinks he’s ever seen. and when his gaze briefly flicks down—he sees that the man is holding the book he’d been looking for.

soap grins, does his best to look charming in spite of the fact that he’d just run into this poor, beautiful bastard. “was lookin’ for that one, too.”

the man’s brow furrows in confusion before he realizes what soap had been referring to. his eyes fall almost self-consciously to the book.

“oh, yeah. it’s a good book. gave my nephew my other copy, so i’m just…” the man lifts the book in some helpless gesture.

“hm.” soap nods. he can’t help but notice how soothing the man’s voice is, low and rough around the edges, but completely soft in the middle. “y’hear they’re making a movie?”

the man perks up, and for a moment soap wonders if that’s panic he sees flash in his eyes. he clears his throat. “yes, that’s actually why i’m, well. i owned it before, but because i’m doing the—because of the movie, i had to…” the man sighs, shoulders slumping. it’s endearing, the way he’s gotten so easily flustered, like he isn’t used to small talk. “never mind. i’ll let you… i hope you enjoy it. the book. and movie too, i guess.”

soap laughs, not unkindly. “the book, we’ll see. favourite actor’s in the movie, so i’ll probably like it either way.”

“yeah?” the man cocks his head, curious. “who’s that?”

unashamedly, soap replies, “simon riley.”

it’s not unnoticeable, the way the man’s face blossoms a faint pink before he coughs and ducks his head. “he’s, uh. heard he’s good,” he says. “so others say.”

for a moment, it looks like the man is preparing to bolt, so soap sticks out his hand as a last-minute resort to keep him around just a little longer. “i’m john. friends call me soap. long story, but if you maybe let me take you out for some coffee, i could tell you?”

apprehension lines the man’s posture, but he eventually tucks the book under one arm and shakes soap’s hand. “friends call me ghost. and i’d like that.”

ghost’s hand is warm, his grip firm. soap tries not to let himself linger in the touch.

“sounds like a date.” soap smiles up at ghost. “did you want to do that today, or…?”

ghost shakes his head. “can’t today. but i can give you my number?”

soap agrees, but as he reaches for his phone he’s met with an empty pocket and the realization that he’d left it on the counter at home. he sighs, feeling disheartened, readying an excuse when he gets an idea. “d’you have a pen?”

ghost does, in fact, have a pen, though soap supposes he could’ve just gone and bought one from the bookstore just as well. soap tells him to stay put a minute, goes to retrieve his own copy of the book, and comes back with it opened to the first page.

“i’m buying it, anyway,” soap says. and it’s commemorative, he doesn’t add, of the day and reason we met. because he’s hopeful this may actually go somewhere.

ghost writes his phone number inside, deliberately hands the book back to soap with the cover pressed closed by his thumb, and they head to the register together.

it’s only when soap gets home and finally goes to type ghost’s number into his phone that he sees, above the digits, a small simon :) inscribed on the paper.

[hoshigray]

idk if you’re taking in requests or thirsts but imagine giving toji a lap dance and even then he’s still the one who’s in charge and shiittt 😵‍💫

i want him so bad 😞

lol, why did I think of a stripper AU when I saw this? Also, this ask is like MONTHS old, I'm so sorry...also tysm for 4.9k guyssss, ur too kind

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Toji x stripper fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - sensual movements; lap dances + bumping and grinding - kisses (f! receiving) - clitoral stimulation - breast fondling + nipple play - biting/nibbling- pet names (angel, baby, sweetheart, sweetie) - no penetration, but things get steamy - cameos: Mei Mei, Nanami and Ino. 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.7k

You were Toji’s favorite stripper.

You, your coworkers, and all the clients who come to enjoy the show all know this as fact. 

It’s all fun and games that this is your job, and you must cater to all the other men and women who come to see you strut and work your stuff (or else your manager, Mei Mei, would have your head).

But this is something that should never be forgotten. When that raven-haired man with a scar on his lip walks into the premises, everyone has to act right: you’re off-limits because you are his girl. 

Tonight was one of those Friday nights; women gather around the bar top to gather their weekend drinks – and flirt with Kento Nanami, the part-time bartender. Men under the influence howl at the topless entertainers, allowing them to motorboat and stuff cash into their underwear. And Ino, the DJ, plays the tunes that set the mood and keep the place going. 

Toji walks past all of that — he’s not here for it. He strides up to the open area, where there are mini stages abided by booths, a pole for each that comes from the ceiling down. He comes to one of the stages, and a dancer stops midway through her routine to greet the man, ignoring the girls who whine from her mesmerizing dancing coming to a halt. “Toji~, it’s Friday already?” 

“Yup, good to see you, Roxy,” he flashes a quick smile at the named entertainer. “They here today?”

Roxy giggles. “Knew you were going to ask me that. They should be at that back one over there at the corner…Oh! There they are.” She points, and Toji follows her finger to the promised stage and booth at the corner. He grins and gives a curt nod to Roxy before going on his way. “Enjoy the show, Toji~”

At the club corner is a booth filled with tired businessmen who come to drink. But guessing from the grins on their faces, they’re too enamored by what’s in front of them to quench their first. On the pole, twirling around the metal bar, was you. Entertaining the men with the usual routine, a few tricks, and moves to wow the mix of young and old business clients. And they gasp and roar at you, splitting your legs during a high kick.

Unfortunately, though, this was the last of their fun with you. Because after you transition from the pole, taking a client’s hand to have them aid you down the stage, something – or someone – catches your attention from the corner of your eye. You turn and smile, “Hey there, big guy.”

“Hey,” he greets you with a smirk. The guys around the booth watch, most with expressions as if their hearts dropped. Minus one, a young man who felt he should question the man standing next to him. 

“Uhh, excuse me,” he says to the dark-haired, burly man. The other colleagues looked at him as if he lost his mind. “We got this table first, so go over somewhere with the other strippers and—“ 

He could not finish that sentence. Because Toji pulled the kid off his seat with one hand, the poor bastard squeaked at the sudden action. Piercing green eyes bore into his skull, his blood shifting to icy cold. “How ‘bout I have you go somewhere? Either in the trash or six feet under, whichever floats y’r boat.” 

The scared look on the poor kid’s face didn’t change Toji’s attitude. Not even the other guys who were pleading to him to let their friend go, that he didn’t know what he was doing. He did not come here to start something, not tonight. 

And for that, you were the only one who could calmly intervene, dissuading the situation by placing a hand on Toji’s shoulder. “It’s all right, Toji. I was giving these guys a little show before you came in. Now, please let him go, okay? I don’t think Mei Mei would want to deal with another broken arm situation.”

It was the safest option that you spoke to him, his little favorite. So, with a gruff scoff, Toji lets the guy go for him to land on the floor roughly. “You heard ‘em, fellas. Outta my spot.” The entrepreneurs get up and scram with no hesitation, grumbling at the younger colleague for causing such strife in the first place as they walk away somewhere, leaving you and Toji. 

He watches them leave, turning to you when they’re at a respectable distance. Here is when he properly gets a good look at you. God, he could never get enough of you. You were wearing a black laced, caged mesh bra that covered your breasts, matching with lacy bottoms that shaped your hips beautifully. The bra was covered in rhinestones that shined with the club lights, which partnered with the side of your bottoms. And to complete the look, over-the-knee heeled boots that sparkled. A new favorite, Toji thinks.

“Well, now that you’re done terrorizing my guests,” you giggle and gesture to the booth seat. “Ready for me to spoil you?”

“Heh, think that’s the other way ‘round, sweetheart.” Toji chuckles as he takes off his coat and sits down. He notes you staring at his bulky arms for a quick second. You were fast, but not fast enough for him to catch you. “I’m sure y’re ready to drain my wallet.”

You walk between him and the stage behind you, bewitching him with the twinge of your lips as you bring your face closer. “Would that be a bad thing?”

Toji’s hand goes to your cheek, “A pretty lil’ angel like you? I’d let you rob every cent of me.”

The jest does its job of making you laugh before you withdraw your face from his hold. “You know the rules.” 

The older man rolls his eyes but obliges, putting his hands behind his head and shifting comfortably. “I know, I know. No touchy.”

“No touchy.” You repeat, knowing he’s on the same page while you warm yourself up. 

You start with the usual — he likes it. You turn and spread your legs, bending down slowly before him so he can get a perfect view of your ass and underwear. And you take your time getting up, using your hands to entice him by grazing them around your asscheeks. Next, you face him, eyes locked with his emerald ones. Taking one foot after the other, you bend again and place your hands on his thighs, rubbing them while maintaining eye contact. “How was work? Tough as usual?” 

Now, while you have rules of your own, he also has things he can’t share — like the fact that his primary source of income comes from killing people. It’s why he’s always sure to clean himself up before coming here, spending his hard-earned cash to see you. But he humors you with tiny hints, “Mmm, as usual. Broken nose here, blood on knuckles there.” 

You straighten up, placing a heeled foot on his right thigh. “My my, not that you got hurt, right?” 

“Not a single scratch.”

You lift a brow before bringing your leg down to swiftly sit on his lap, snaking your hands up from his abdomen and chest to his strong shoulders. “You’re quite the dangerous one.”

“Sure,” He chortles smugly, “but y’re one to talk.”

You play along, forming a small “o” with your lips to display faux surprise. All the while bouncing on his lap. “Me? Dangerous?” 

“Oh yeah, sweetie.” His eyes never leave your face, even when you sway to the side to measure his attention. “Y’re quite the little minx yourself.” 

Your eyes narrow, inching your face closer, your noses practically touching. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Slow grinds to his groin, it makes him swallow. You close your eyes, lips drawing in with a whisper. “Is it?”

Toji closes his eyes as well, falling for your sensual spell. “Not at all…” But nothing comes of it, only a string of giggles as you remove your face from his, poking the tip of his nose with your finger to signal with awake before fully withdrawing your figure from him. He grins, shaking his head. “Fuckin’ tease.”

“I don’t see you complaining, sir.” You throw the title at him with a playful smirk, batting an eye before turning around with your back facing him. You gently sit on his lap and transition your services to that of a lap dance. 

With an arched back, you roll your hips and ride on his lap, your butt rubbing on his jean-clad thighs to create heated friction. And Toji’s eyes examine your figure, from the highlighted skin of your back to the sway of your hips. The view of your butt rubbing on him gets him going, trying to fight the urge to just fuck the rules and grab your ass to grind on himself. Every rasp to his groin tests him to breathe steadily. 

But then, you just had to look at him over your shoulder with that cute, complacent leer. “How ya feelin’ there, big guy? Dangerous enough for you yet?”

Yup, fuck it. Rules be damned, Toji grabs for your ass and brings it down flat on his groin. The action takes you aback – unconditionally out of the accustomed routine. Before you can question him, Toji’s scarred lips are already at your ear. “You tell me, princess. Teasin’ me like that is just askin’ for it.”

You hold back a whimper when he comes to your neck, biting your lips when his lips meet your skin. “Mmmm…whatever happened to no touchy? You could get into trouble—“

“Aww, are ya worrying f’r me?” He snickers to your ear again, listening to you gasp at the buck of his hips to your ass. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, just keep dancin’ f’r me, ‘kay? I’ll take care of you…”

Toji bites the helix of your ear, rolling his hips to hump you. With a shaky moan, you grind on him to match his cadence. You’re nervous; this is against the policy: guests are not supposed to touch the entertainers. And yet, now, with Toji’s firm hands holding onto you and him whispering to your ear, it somehow feels different — a lot more hedonistic. 

You decide to play along, throwing your head back to his shoulder to rest, which gives him more access to kiss your exposed skin. His lips peck down your neck, and quivering wails seep from your lips when he mischievously nibbles on it. Too distracted to detect a hand snake down to your covered chasm. 

Now would be the right time to say things are going too far. You bring a hand on top of his, a silent warning for him. But he chooses to ignore it, creeping the other hand under the hem of your top. “Relax, baby. Just focus on danicin’, yeah?” 

This was so different, having a guest take the rails — no, having Toji take control of you. And you don’t dislike it; far from it, actually. If anything, it’s oddly exciting — letting the older man please you as you service him. It’s new and dangerous, especially in your workplace. But, oh my God, you don’t want it to stop.

You wrap your arms around his neck while he puts his back to the booth, using this to change into a different move. With your torso lifted and using your legs to maintain balance, you move your abdomen up and down. While you’re ghosting his groin with wave-like motions, Toji uses his fingers to play with your body. His left middle and forefinger rubs on your cover folds, roughly pressing down on where your clitoris is. A choked sob leaves puffy lips, even when his right hand is in your bra to grope your breast, his thumb swiping on your nipple to harden. 

“Mmmph! Ahhaaa, Toji…”

“Yeah, just like that,” he reassures you. Another tweak to your nipple has you bite your lips with a hum. “Just like that—“

“Am I interrupting something?” 

It took you mere milliseconds to recognize the new voice that enters your space, abruptly interrupting your session with purpose. You’re off of Toji just like that, hurriedly fixing yourself in the presence of your manager. “H–Hello, Mei Mei.”

“Hello there, Y/n.” She says it sweetly, but her words carry a stern connotation. The pale-blue-haired woman has her hair up in a braided ponytail while wearing a simple black split-thigh cami dress with mesh sleeves, and her gold earrings and red lipstick contrast with her pale skin. “Ah, I expected to see you here, too, Mr. Fushiguro.”

Toji greets the women, standing up at his own pace. “It is a Friday, Lady Mei.”

She smiled at the use of her business name; it was appropriate for what she was about to say. “Indeed it is. I decided to come down to check on the place and see how the life of the party was going. And all my guests seemed to be having quite a good time…Minus this one guy, who told me about the ‘scary fucker with a scar on his lip’ who lifted him like a doll and scared him and his buddies to a different table.” 

Toji rubs the back of his neck, chortling with a smug grin. “Hmm, the guy must be some dick.”

“Must be...Now listen, Fushiguro, I know how much of a valuable customer you are, throwing good money at my girls — my girl.” Mei Mei walks to you and places her cold hands on your shoulders. “I’d find it hard to have you not come here anymore for not keeping your hands to yourself. On my customers and my entertainers.”

“That I understand, my Lady,” he sighs at your manager’s lecture and crosses his arms. “But you know how I roll. I just come here to see your girls—“ He stops to shift his gaze on you. “Your sweet girl.”

“And I see you care about them quite a lot, your hand up their bra and your lips on their skin.” 

He shrugs it off. “I’m guilty.”

Mei Mei walks up to the older guest, her light violet eyes locked with his dark jade orbs. “Fushiguro, I’m sorry, but I’m afraid my rules apply to everybody. No touching the dancers. This is a strip club, not a brothel.” 

“Yes, Mei,” He grasps every word thrown at him, his eyes not leaving her feline ones. “It’s just a shame that I’m willin’ to pay whatever to have Y/n privately for one night in those lil’ VIP rooms upstairs.” 

A silver brow is quirked. “Are you trying to throw more money at my face to change the rules for your own convenience?”

“I’m trying to talk business, from one loyal customer to a good businesswoman.” He says nonchalantly, pointing to you with his chin. “That is if they’re up for it.” Now, why did he have to single you out like that? Because your manager turns to you with a patient look, gauging where you stand in this situation. 

It’s a tricky thing to answer: do you want to have sex with your guest that made you feel good minutes ago? This job is supposed to be an easy one, coming here to dance and swing your ass off til the morning sun for good money. Now, on the one night when things get a little too heated – with your favorite customer, mind you – you’re in a conflict. And you have to thank God you didn’t kiss him on the lips! 

However, it’s not like you don’t trust Toji; it’s the opposite. Sure, he can be a cocky bastard; there’s been instances where he’s touched you, but never like tonight. And yet, you didn’t find any danger in it. You were relaxed atop of him, leaning more into his touches. So, the thought that more could come from it is new. Chilling, but thrilling.

Your manager can see the inner turmoil through your face, so she answers in your stead, “Give it some thought for tomorrow, Y/n. And you,” Mei Mei turns back to the man guilty of this predicament. “Learn to behave yourself ’til then.” 

“I will, Lady Mei,” Toji sneers, grabbing for his coat to put on and taking a few bands to give to you. “And I’ll be seein’ you tomorrow, baby.”

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – divideres from @/cafekitsune.

[teratosfavouritesnack]

testsubject!Monster x testsubject!Human - alien scientists, aphrodisiac gas, dub-con, romance

You were taken when you were only a baby so you were basically raised in the labs by the aliens scientists who abducted you. You were used to being a mere test subject, to have all kinds of experiments ran on you. That was your life and you were sure there was nothing on the other side of the pristine white walls of the labs you lived in... nothing for you, anyway.

But the creature at the end of the hall? The one you always heard growling day and night? The one who kept on refusing to eat and who assaulted scientists if they even tried to get near its strongroom? That creature was not used to this life, nor it intended to get used to it any time soon. It resisted any kind of attempt from the aliens to be tested on since the day it was brought in. It was essentially a nuisance. It was useless. And when one day it threw yet another tantrum and also killed a couple of scientists in the process, you were sure its faith was written; they would soon get rid of it.

Instead...

The aliens called for you, their favorite and most serviceable test subject. They didn't tell you what they needed of you, but simply brought you to the strongroom where the creature was held and then secured the door shut behind you. They had managed to make it docile with some sort of tranquilizer, it was clear by the way its big fur-covered body was curled up on the floor, slumped against the wall. Its black eyes were half closed and unfocused, its mouth open, its breathing laboured.

You felt pity at the sight of such a majestic creature shrunken to a beaten beast. You had seen how the aliens treated those who didn't collaborate and the signs of their punishments were all over the poor creature's body.

Why couldn't it just do what the scientists told him to? Do what they wanted? They would let it go at one point. You saw many test subjects come and go... You saw them pass through the blue doors and never come back. It just needed to cooperate and then it would be free...

A loud hiss echoed through the walls as if a gas was being released inside the room. You smelled it a moment later... Something sweet, inhebraiting, it quickly made you feel heady. The creature had sensed it too because you heard it sniffle and saw as its eyes snapped open. It's pupils dilated the moment its gaze landed on you.

Shivers of fear mixed with thrills of something you had never felt before had your body shuddering and growing hot. You felt heat coiling in your lower belly, pulsating between your thighs. The air around you was charged, there was a pull that beckoned you forward, that drew you to...

Your doe eyes focused on the creature again. When did it stand up? When did it come so close to you? Or were you the one who moved towards it? You had no idea. Your heart was pounding violently against your chest, you could hear your heartbeat echo loudly in your ears as well. Its beady eyes were trained on you, traveling over your body. Its buff and fur-covered legs were twitching, as if it was holding itself back from pouncing on you.

Its breathing was even more laboured than before, its nostrils flared as loud and rapid puffs of air came out of its big black nose. A wild range of emotions passed across its black eyes; you thought you recognized shame, pity, anger...

You didn't know that the creature was torn, that it was fighting against itself, against its own primal urges. It was sure, oh it was sure that those beasts had done something. It could feel it in the air, it could sniff pheromones, so potent, so viscerally luring that holding back felt like going against nature. But it needed to resist. It didn't want to do this. To do this to you! A pure fragile human. Another miserable victim of those abominable creatures. Did they want him to hurt you? To break you? What sadistic bastards.

And so the creature roared, its voice sounding pained, and pounced on the doors, its huge paws hitting metal with all their might. When it noticed that its claws only scraped at the surface, unable to rip through it it started to bang its whole body into it, trying to force the doors open.

The creature's growls echoed through the room, making you tremble and worsening the burning heat in your belly. You glanced around you as if feeling the scientists' eyes on you from the other side of the walls. They were watching you two, you were sure of it. Just as you were sure that if the creature didn't stop to fight, they would intervene and hurt it again... or even worse. You had to do something, to calm it, persuade it to stop...

That's how you ended up lying face down on the floor, your clothes torn, body trapped under the massive creature. Its movements were frantic as it groped your ass and spread your cheeks to push its cock inside your dripping cunt. Your groans were muffled by the floor, your wiggling body stilled by its huge arms wrapping around you, trapping your arms in its clench.

His thrusts were merciless, his rhythm unrelenting as if he was totally out of control. And yet, you could hear his deep baritone voice repeating "I'm sorry" over and over again against your ear as he ravaged you. You wanted to say that you were sorry too, for this, for all the stuff they've done to him... But you also wanted to tell him not to feel sorry. It was okay. Despite everything, it felt nice to have its cock so deep inside you... You felt pleasure, relief. You hoped he felt the same.

After that day, you're put in the same room for a whole week, two times a day. The werebear doesn't resist anymore. The aliens suggest that he's taken a liking to you and therefore they're more than happy to throw you in his room as much as possible, if that means he's not trying to wreak havoc in the lab or murder anyone anymore. They're confident that you will be able to crack him, to turn him into a perfect test subject, just like you.

Oh but the aliens don't know... They don't know the things you whisper to each other when you're close, when he's inside you... They don't know the plan you're plotting to escape. Together. He's told you so much of the world outside, his world, your world... You want to see it all, with him at your side. Free.

This could become an actual story... Would you be interested in reading more?

🪷. You can leave me a tip on ko-fi if you want to support me

[alphajocklover]

You have to help me! I've been trying to get free of this... place for a long LONG time. After some time I've been able to gain back some free will, but it's really hard. Right now, as my "physicall" me picked his phone at the gym between reps, I've been able to log on here and I saw what you published about the Retsam Mirror. You have to help me. I've been stuck in it for years. I was a nerd when i first fell by accident on the mirror and i got sucked in. I can't do this anymore. The new me is a honry bastard and he spends his time getting fucked in front of mirrors, a lot and a lot of them. My reflections are exponentials and i feel every single one of them. Oh fuck he just got a notification from HungDomTop11in. Help m................

A Retsam mirror. You found a Retsam mirror. Another Retsam mirror. For those of you who didn’t see my earlier post, a Retsam mirror is an incredibly rare magical artifact that lets a person switch places with their reflection, which essentially traps the person in their reflection and leaves a very suggestable copy in their place. It was weird enough to hear that one guy had encountered one of those that hadn’t already been shattered, but if what you’re telling me is true… then whoever trapped that poor guy has been trapping people in mirrors for much longer than we thought. I can only guess, and hope, that you were one of his earliest victims. I know you said you fell in but… if that was true then your other self wouldn’t have acted any differently than you. Someone had to have pushed you in, and then used your reflections malleable state to change them. I have to say, as horrified as I am by all of this… I’m also kind of impressed. Not with the jerk who's been trapping people, but with you. It takes a lot of willpower to keep your mind intact while in a reflection. Most people lose themselves in it, not having the ability to choose their movements but still feeling everything. Yet what’s even more impressive is the fact you were actually able to take back control for a bit. From what I’ve heard, that's supposed to be impossible. For you to do that… It's truly incredible. I’m just sorry that it might not be able to help save you.  As far as I know, there isn’t a way to get out of a Retsam mirror, at least not on your own. Either your reflection would have to willingly swap back, which seems unlikely, or the guy who pushed you in would have to switch you again, which seems even less likely. I’ve been looking into ways to help get people out of Retsam mirrors since I first heard they were back, but I haven’t found much yet. So I’m afraid that, for the time being, you’re stuck there.

Don’t give up hope though! You’ve managed to do more than anyone else in your position has. Not to mention, the information you’ve given me may be invaluable to figuring out how to save and protect people from Retsam mirrors. I’ve been messing with a spell that might allow me to use my own Retsam mirror to help people stuck in reflections, or at least communicate with them, so there is light at the end of the tunnel.

I know this entire situation is horrible, but the reporter in me has to admit it’s kind of fascinating. It’s incredibly rare you get to talk to someone who's been inside a reflection, so I had no idea you could feel what was happening inside each and every reflection, even if you were reflected in multiple mirrors at once. That must be very overwhelming, especially if your other self is hooking up in front of mirrors. Feeling yourself get fucked by a a potentionally infinite amount of cocks all at once… As hot as that sounds it must be really intense.

Here's just hoping your other self doesn’t take advantage of it too much. 

[nothingenoughao3]

So y'all know how Jeff Combs was doing a theater production which someone involved with Re-Animator saw him in, and how he's suggested that the character he played there influenced how he played Herbert West.

I relayed this to @andalusiapunk and they were like "Oh! That explains it! He's theater-acting!"

I am not an expert by any means, but I did misspend my teenage years in a magnet school as a theater student. I understood immediately what they meant by theater-acting and I'm mad I didn't come up with it.

A lot of this has to do with Herbert's overall physicality. We all love talking about how he's hyper-dramatic, right? How he moves in a particular way that is extremely precise and sharp and, to be on point, theatrical. How he spins the tape recorder in his hand; how he offers Meg's heart in BRIDE; how he fumbles or manipulates syringes in various scenes.

None of that's in the script and it's not necessarily justified by what's happening... unless you're trying to make sure the audience in the backass end of the theater can see you're holding something small, like a tape recorder or a syringe or a human heart. As I observed elsewhere, you can trick the audience into 'seeing' or 'hearing' things that aren't present onstage or screen if your body language insists on its reality.

And, not to get into super-nerdy film history, but: originally theater-acting and movie-acting were one and the same. Early films are blocked like plays, they have extended sequences without constant cutting between shots (like an audience watching a play), and the extremely clear, over-enunciation of a play-actor trying to make sure those poor bastards in the back can hear what they're saying. And like a play, all acting was heavily rehearsed and expected to hit the same points and produce the same results every time.

What changed this was Marlon Brando introducing the idea of improvisation into movie-acting, a choice which also led to a greater flexibility in movie-acting... including delivery of lines. A more "natural", verisimilitudinous delivery became acceptable for films. This doesn't make either style bad, to be clear: each serves its purpose.

Bruce Abbott (to name the most obvious example) is doing movie-acting. He's got some Protagonist Accent going for him, but he has a clear variety of tone and a great deal of subtlety with his facial expressions and delivery. The same goes for the rest of the cast, although David Gale kind of straddles the line between these two styles.

Herbert's delivery is pure theater-acting. When he and Dan invade the morgue, Dan is whispering--but Herbert is stage whispering, which is why he hisses so much. I've made jokes on here before about how Herbert was born on Skid Row in Little Shop of Horrors-verse, and he thinks he's supposed to be in a musical... and, you know, LSOH is a film based on a play, only in that movie, EVERYBODY is theater-acting.

Anyhow, lotta words to find a different way to compliment Combs and the rest of the REANI cast on their acting, because I live for sorcery enjoying these damn movies.

[evenmorefatallyobsessed]

I make four Milf Models on the list (and a Fifth on in Shiranui) and then I go and find Six more 'Mature' Gems! Dammit...

Anyways let me introduce the Six new candidates.

1.) Cattleya (Queen's Blade)

Not gonna like, I know noithing besides that she has huge tits, glasses and is a blacksmith with hella muscle... That is more then enough! I would make her son and Jaune friends, and Cattleya is the only woman the Arc trust to forge their weapons and upkeep them. Her son Rana is one of the only people Jaune trust around his sisters.

2.) Kie Kamado (Demon Slayer)

So truth be told, I have not watched Demon Slayer... And this woman and her four dead kids are why! Like THE FUQ!? Jesus man this crap broke my heart, I... I just moved right along to happy anime cuz that shit makes me sad as fuck... So yeah they would live in Ansel, and she would be Juniper's best friend and one of the very few women he can understand the sheer difficulties of raising a small team of children. But worst, because she has to do it alone... Then Grimm attack, and while everyone else is trying to protect their own. Little Jaune rushes to help his best friend Tanjiro and his siblings! Auraless and with only his families sword in hand that he can barely wield the two boys actually manage to kill a Beowulf and proceed to get them to the safety of the Arc House.

3.) Shizu Shinazugawa (Demon Slayer)

DUDE WHAT THE FUCK!!! Seriously this woman somehow had a worst death then Kie! SHE ATE HER KIDS!!! WHAT IN THE FUCKING HELL!!! OH! AND LETS NOT FORGET THAT SHE WAS GETTEN BEATEN BY HER HUSBAND!!! God Dammit, at this point I'm starting to think it's a good thing pig boy was raised by boars. If his mom had been with him instead of abandoning him in thew woods (I assume) she'd probably be dead too! Much less lightening whiney bitch I swear don't give him a tragic backstory too! I do not want to like him... As for shizu, Imma play the Cardin card, and say the two older brothers are bullies in Ansel. Lashing out at others because of their abusive father and of course Jaune is a very ripe target, the envy of the pair because of his kind strong father. Jaune is mad, but after talking to his sisters he decides to invite the boys over to dinner, and try to be friends, after all like his mom says, friends are just strangers you haven't met yet. And besides... Their like him and Tanjiro, he heard they have a lot of siblings too. They should make a club together! It is as little Jaune is having these thoughts that he stumbles upon it... then father beating them, them and their poor mom! And much like with the Ursa Jaune rushes in. And gets beaten within a inch of his life, but doesn't stop, grabbing forks, spoons anything he can get his hands on... Telling them to run, to get his dad. Papa Arc does come forward and what he finds is his son, bloody, beaten barely able to stand, but standing he is, and protecting the poor lady with a broken leg from her evil husband... And then the man is gone, his head taken, the Arc Patriarch not hesitating for even a second.

4.) Ruka Rengoku (Demon Slayer)

'It is the obligation of those born strong to defend the weak. Don't ever forget that..'

That Fucking Line! That Fucking Line Right There Makes Her Hotter Then The Other Two! Oh and what do you know, another piece of shit husband!

Okay, so I get he only turned piece of shit cuz she died bu-NO! You Know what, Fuck that Your Son Died Cuz You Couldn't Step Up And Live Up To Your Wives Words! Fuck You!!! That Drunk Bastard Insulted her memory and made her have to suffer meeting her son FAR TOO EARLY!!!

There is no way this woman doesn't hate her husband from beyond the grave! So here what would happen, Shinjuro would snap earlier then like when his wife is first diagnosed with the disease. At first he tries to stay strong but then begins to drink, then gets pissed when told nothing can be done!

And then in his denial he tries to force them to leave to Atlas, to hopefully find a cure or way to treat her... But Ruka refuses, Ansel needs them, negativity has been on the rise and Grimm have shown up more often. So he begins to drink and rant, and rave and Ruka watches her husband betray both himself and her faith in him.

And then he leaves, taking her with him one night, in desperation kidnapping his own wife against her will, her body far too weak to resist to take her to Atlas forcibly if needed. He uses a favor Papa and Mama Arc owe him to watch his kids while he's gone (Lying and saying he convinced Ruka)

And it is as he was gone that Ansel was attacked, his sons forced to fight, children like them, Jaune, little Tanjiro and the Shinazugawa brothers barely managing to take his place, but not without injury.

When he returns, he isn't met with scorn, nor blame... Not from anyone, except his wife! Ruka will not forgive him, and would rather die alone then married to him... He leaves, bitter angry but knowing she was right. And it was as this was happening that her son brings Jaune to her, the boy noticing several cuts and bruises she'd received from her forceful travels... He reaches out, and uses the power he discovered while the held off the Grimm.

The power that let mere kids like them fight and barely make up the difference her Ex-Husbands absence... His Semblance, Aura Amplification, every doctor had told her her disease wasn't treatable because her body simply lacked the strength to fight it, her immune system was too too compromised and her body too fragile by that point to maintain.

But Jaune's power, it's strength was one of a nature to empower others, to share with them his strength, his vigor, his will and soul, and Jaune wouldn't stop sharing his strength until it was enough to save her!

It was the logic of a simply youth, if he could kill monsters as big as Grimm, he refused to let small ones so tiny and weak take one of his friends moms! The same woman who told him he could be a huntsman! No! That said it was his duty to be one! Well What Kinda Huntsman Couldn't Save a mother!

5.) Rinko Iori (Gundam... Apparently -///-)

I...I did not know she was from a anime... I firmly thought she was a hentai mom... But no, apparently she is from Gundam. Well, I think I've said enough and these pictures hopefully speak for themselves...

I'd say she is a Argus mom, and helped Saphron and Terra navigate raising their first kid.

6.) Mirelia Q Melromarc

She Is A Queen! (Literally!) but no... Like seriously she is best girl, she showed up and everything, oh everything just turned pure euphoria for me. And God Damn She hated her husband! I wish they went more in on how thoroughly pissed she was in the anime like they did in the light novel.

Seriously a fucked up daughter and husband... just... Fuck man, and seriously FUCK BITCH For What She did! (If you read the Web Novel you know what I'm talking about) And fuck Trash too! Y'know it was so he could have a redemption Arc.

Fuck that, as far as I'm concerned those two need death like I need air. Naofumi is her (Only) daughter's fiancée. Which means she's in need of a new consort, a noble, strong, kind one who has a sharp wit.

[olivialau]

Shadow's Embrace Ch.33

Sukuna x Reader

Notes:

This story unfolds in the Jujutsu Kaisen world, set in a slightly altered universe where Sukuna inhabits his own vessel distinct from Itadori Yuji's body, making him a separate entity.

Summary:

Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses, becomes fascinated with a female sorcerer rich in potential but lacking control. Initially seizing her for his destructive plans, Sukuna aims to bind her abilities through a contract. Yet, as he tries to dominate her, he finds himself intrigued by her strength and determination. Over time, his interest evolves from strategic advantage to a deeper, personal connection.

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CHAPTER 33 - Whispers and Whistles

“We need to discuss something, girl.”

Instinctively, your feet shuffled back, and your hands shot up between you in a rather unconvincing attempt to claim your space.

Your racing pulse betrayed you, oh so easily, in the subtle quiver of your fingertips: a scared animal, trying to bluff its way out.

Despite your earlier—and clearly misguided—assumption that he was the most, how would you put it... agreeable of Sukuna’s accomplices, Kenjaku's polite mask was fracturing before your eyes.

For the first time, his face truly matched the dangerous aura you’d always sensed beneath the facade.

When his gaze caught your trembling hands, his lips curled higher. His eyebrows smoothed, eyes widening just enough to let the menace bleed through. Those empty, dark pupils locked onto yours with piercing focus, leaving no room for misinterpretation: he wasn’t backing down.

He took a step forward, bumping his body into your outstretched palms, completely unbothered by your poor attempt to protect your space.

Cocky bastard.

Before you knew it, you’d jumped back. A big leap to get as far away from him as possible in a single motion.

Kenjaku laughed it off, closing the gap straight away, mirroring each of your steps until your back met the unyielding brick wall of the apartment complex.

With his robes practically smothering your face, you were desperate to gain even an inch of extra space. So, you let your backpack slip from your shoulders, pressing yourself against—no, into—the surface behind you.

Despite Sukuna's assurance that Kenjaku wouldn't dare harm you, his shift in demeanor—and, his pale hand now reaching for your chin—told a different story.

“Just take a step back, and I'll talk with you, okay?” Your voice wavered in a last-ditch effort to defuse the situation.

As expected, his feet stayed firmly in place. His thumb and index finger pinched your jaw, fingers tightening as he dragged your head from side to side, studying you like a specimen under glass.

From this close, you could see every gruesome detail of the crude stitches crisscrossing his forehead. It was disgusting, and you hated that you couldn't look away, trapped by his grip, forced to endure the silent inspection.

His thumb drifted to your lower lip, pulling it down before the pad of his finger ran over the tender flesh inside. For a second, when he leaned in even closer, the disturbing thought of him putting his filthy lips on yours seemed to become less of a creepy notion and more of an inescapable reality.

Your hand twitched toward the knife in your boot, mind already calculating the exact angle and force needed to drive it into his side if he dared to cross that line.

But just then, he shifted his focus away from your lips. His fingers drifted lower, hooking around the edge of your collar, tugging lightly as he tilted his head, eyes drifting over the curve of your neck.

A black strand of hair fell across his face as he examined your neck up close. It brushed your skin, and the tickle made you tense up. It was the revolting kind of tickle. The kind you feel when a spider creeps up your leg, the kind that makes your skin crawl and your stomach churn.

You could feel his eyes traveling down your cleavage before his pupils darted up to meet yours for just a second, a knowing chuckle spilling from his lips.

The audacity.

It quickly snapped you from fear to fury.... Your hands found his shoulders, ready to shove him away. But before you could, Kenjaku stepped back of his own accord.

There was an instantaneous change in his demeanor, as if a switch had flipped. His eyes narrowed to polite crescents and that unsettling grin morphed into a courteous smile that somehow managed to be even more disturbing.

What the hell had just happened?

“Just as I thought,” he murmured, as another chuckle escaped him. Your heart was still hammering in your chest, but you forced yourself to steady.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you demanded.

Kenjaku's gaze flicked to your neck with subtle implication. Confused, you followed his line of sight. Your collar was still wrinkled, jutting forward slightly, and as you peered down to fix it, Kenjaku's thorough inspection suddenly made a lot more sense.

The scratches, the red marks...

Though his mask of civility remained firmly in place, it couldn’t entirely conceal the glint of sick amusement woven through his words.

“So,” he drawled, “you and Sukuna are involved in that way, hmm?”

He reached out a hand toward your shoulder, but you swatted it away with a sharp flick. A wounded expression crossed his face as he pulled back, softly brushing over the red sting—drama queen—before letting out a deep sigh.

“Girl, you do realize Sukuna is just using you, don’t you? I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I wouldn’t want to see a young thing like you get hurt.”

His worry was so blatantly fake it almost made you laugh. Kenjaku didn’t care about your well-being any more than Sukuna cared about subtlety when he'd ravaged your skin.

You met his gaze, steady now, your confidence slowly returning.

“Thanks for the advice, Frankenstein—” The freshly improvised nickname slid off your tongue with biting sarcasm.

“—but I think I’ll be just fine. So, if that’s all...”

You crouched to grab your backpack, slinging it over your shoulder, but from the corner of your eye, you saw Kenjaku's expression flicker—a tiny twitch, yet enough to make you pause.

Oh.

It seemed Kenjaku didn't take kindly to being called names.

Your fingers tightened around the straps, and you braced yourself, wondering if your little jab would cost you dearly now.

But his mask effortlessly slid back into place—another fake smile.

He was good at this.

“You’ve got spirit,” he murmured through gritted teeth—the only way he could suppress his mounting irritation with a certain impudent brat.

“I can see why Sukuna likes to play with you.”

You rolled your eyes and were about to walk away when his next words made you pause.

“But that’s all you are to him; a toy. That’s all you’ll ever be.”

A toy...

As much as you wanted them not to, his words got to you. You couldn’t help it—you couldn’t help but wince at the sharp pang that struck your heart...

Kenjaku let his gaze drift to some distant point, his hands curling into loose fists to still the twitching of his fingers.

“When you break, or when he tires of you, he’ll dispose of you. You know that, don’t you?”

You hissed through gritted teeth, crossing your arms to shield yourself from the truth in his words.

The idea of being used, of all the warnings you'd so stubbornly ignored being proven right—that was the one fear you dreaded to acknowledge.

And hearing it said aloud made it so much harder to deny, leaving you with nothing but fragile, circumstantial proof that Sukuna wasn't the monster that everyone claimed he was.

Maybe you really were just a foolish girl lost in her own delusions... But even then, you didn’t intend to just admit that to this freak.

“Why does it matter to you?” you snapped, shifting your weight onto your right leg and cocking your hip in a weak attempt at nonchalance to hide your hurt.

But luck had it that Kenjaku didn’t even bother to look at you. His sandal scuffed against the tiles, grinding tiny rocks into dust—the sound gnawing at your already tight-wound nerves—before he finally answered you.

“What does it matter to me...?”

He let out a sigh. “If you’re dead—if Sukuna loses interest and cuts you up into little pieces... well, that sets us back in our plans.”

His pupils slid to the side, narrowing in on your neck with a certain disgust.

“The more he indulges his toys, the sooner they’ll bore him,” he continued, his disgust morphing into mock pity. “Nothing more than a ragged, used puppet.”

His fingers traced the scar running through his temple, and his lips twisted into a smirk.

“Now, I’ve got a knack for using broken puppets,” he added with a soft, unsettling laugh. You didn’t even want to imagine what that meant, and you couldn’t, for Kenjaku didn’t give you any time to dwell on it, continuing his lecture without pause.

“Sukuna, however? He barely tolerates new, shiny puppets. Let alone used ones.”

Kenjaku straightened his robes, the sharp sound of fabric snapping against itself breaking the tension as he turned to depart.

“I’d like to keep you around for a little while. So I’d advise you to take a step back. Don’t let him use you like some cheap—”

He paused mid-sentence, turning his head to glance over his shoulder—a taunting grin on his face as he let his mask fall away one last time.

“You know what I mean, don’t you?”

---------------------------------------------------------

The entire way to Jujutsu High, your emotions swung between seething rage at that sanctimonious, insufferable monk—and the nauseating anxiety his words had left behind.

The latter doubled by the dreadful anticipation of having to explain your sudden disappearance to everyone at the school. God. You could only hope they'd forgive you for ignoring all their calls and texts.

At least Gojo had forgiven you—though you weren’t naive. You knew his interest wasn’t just about you. It was as much about your entanglement with the deadliest being in existence—and, most inconveniently, also the object of your desire: Sukuna.

You stopped just in front of the school gates, drawing in a deep breath of courage.

Despite your unsettling run-in with Kenjaku, you'd somehow managed to arrive early—a small mercy, considering you still hadn't figured out how to explain your apparent resurrection to your classmates. Ideally, you wanted to do it in a way that wouldn’t completely throw everyone off—but how?

With your head lowered, you slipped into the building, trying to blend into the background. You passed by countless unfamiliar faces, each one seeming to scrutinize you. Maybe it was just paranoia, but it felt like everyone knew. Like Sukuna’s scent was all over you, and they could smell it.

A flash of white caught your attention as you passed the teachers' lounge—Gojo's spiky hair jutting up over the back of a leather couch. You paused, fingers curling around the strap of your bag, considering whether Gojo might be able to offer some advice on handling your unexpected comeback without causing a major scene.

In retrospect, asking Gojo Satoru for counseling on subtlety was probably the dumbest thing you could ever have done.

Which was precisely how you found yourself crammed into the classroom's supply closet, surrounded by towers of dusty files and the sharp, chalky smell of accumulated academia. The musty air tickled your nose as you tried not to sneeze.

All because Gojo thought it would be hilarious to turn your return into 'his best prank to date'.

Before long, you could hear the shuffle of feet and the scrape of chairs as your classmates filed in, completely oblivious to your current... predicament.

Right on the other side of the flimsy wooden door of the closet, you heard the heavy thud of a backpack hitting the floor. Yuji, most likely—he always sat in that same seat in the back.

“Oi, Megumi, you seen Gojo-sensei today?”

His voice carried through the thin wood, lighthearted but tinged with some concern.

“He’s acting stranger than usual.”

Megumi’s response from the desk to his side was as immediate as it was flat. “I don’t question anything that man does anymore.”

There was a brief pause, as if he were quietly processing something, before he added, “But yeah… he’s been acting weird. Keeps snickering to himself like a lunatic.”

From the desk in front of them, Nobara—the queen of gossip—swiveled around in her seat and chimed in.

“Oh my god, yes! I caught him having a full-on conversation with that closet in the back earlier. Like, dramatic hand gestures and everything. I swear he's finally cracked.”

Yuji snorted, barely containing his laughter.

“No way.”

Before they could spiral into further speculations, Gojo’s obnoxiously loud voice rang out, cutting through the conversation and officially kicking off the class.

“Alright, kiddos!” He sang out, way too cheerful, even for him—seriously, could he be any more obvious about being up to something?

“Today’s class is gonna be legendary. Prepare to be amazed, awestruck, and have your jaws hit the floor!”

Nobara groaned, slumping over her desk with a suffering sigh.

“That’s what you said last time, and then you spent an hour showing off your stupid Pokémon cards.”

The gasp of horror that followed was so extravagant, you could hear it all the way from the front of the class.

Yeah, that's how dramatic it was.

“They were Digimon cards, you uncultured soul! DI-GI-MON!”

You could hear his footsteps next, the soft tap of his shoes growing louder as he moved toward Yuji’s desk.

“Yuji, my favorite student who actually knows the difference between Pokémon and Digimon...”

You just knew Megumi rolled his eyes at that.

“Could you be a dear and grab me… uh, a cursed tool from the supply closet over there?”

A chill ran down your spine, and your breath hitched. Oh no.

You pressed your ear to the door, nerves tightening as every possible outcome flashed through your mind. Would they hate you? Yell at you? Storm out? Or worse—would they ignore you, just like you had them?

Your thoughts snapped back to the present when Yuji, on the other side, started to question if Gojo had really lost it.

“Uh… you sure there’s cursed tools in there?”

“That’s what I said,” Gojo chirped, his voice dripping with glee that was now borderline frightening.

After an uncomfortable silence, you heard Yuji hesitantly push his chair back and stand up. “Okay, if you say so…”

His cursed energy drew closer, and though you could feel it, the sound his footsteps barely registered—drowned out by the rush of blood in your ears, thumping to the rhythm of your anxious heart.

You were definitely going to kill Gojo after this.

The wood rattled as Yuji’s hand landed on the handle of the sliding door, and with a protesting creak, he pulled it open, flooding your hideout with light.

You blinked up at him, frozen—like a deer caught in headlights.

And Yuji blinked back, his expression cycling through confusion, disbelief, and dawning recognition faster than a slot machine. “...Huh?”

Then, the class fell silent.

“Hey, guys...” you managed, stepping out of the closet with an awkward shuffle, brushing the dust from your uniform as you did.

Megumi, who had been determinedly ignoring the whole situation, snapped his attention over. His eyes widened fractionally—which, for him, meant he was more than a little surprised.

“You've got to be kidding me,” he muttered, though the relief in his voice betrayed him.

Nobara's shriek of delight shattered any remaining tension as she launched herself at you, nearly taking you down.

“Finally! Finally, I'm not stuck alone with these loser idiots anymore. They have zero gossip, no sense of fashion, or hygiene for that matter. It’s been torture, seriously. You have no idea!”

Yuji's indignant “Hey!” barely registered before he wrapped both you and Nobara in a bear hug that threatened to crack ribs. His voice softened, warm breath stirring your hair as he spoke.

“We were really worried, you know? I must've called a hundred times, checked every restaurant, café, and park in town—Megumi too...”

Megumi's cheeks flushed as he glanced away, suddenly finding the window incredibly fascinating. And the tension that had been suffocating you finally loosened as you allowed yourself to relax into the impromptu group hug.

Gojo's triumphant “Ta-da!” was completely unnecessary at this point, but when did that ever stop him? He spread his arms wide, beaming. “Didn't I promise today's class would be spectacular?”

Nobara wriggled free from Yuji’s embrace, and as soon as he let go, her gaze sharpened, and she raised a brow at you.

“So Gojo-sensei convinced you to hide in this nasty closet?”

“More like coerced," you muttered defensively, crossing your arms.

Gojo gasped, “Coerced? Me? I merely provided some gentle encouragement!”

“Gentle encouragement?” Megumi's voice dripped with skepticism as he mirrored your crossed arms, eyes narrowing at his teacher. “And what exactly did that entail?”

Gojo's blindfold shifted ever so slightly, a glint of mischief hiding behind it as his grin widened.

“Oh, you know, just mentioned that if she didn't play along, I might accidentally let slip something about her situation with Su—”

Your hand shot out with the speed of a striking snake, clamping over his mouth mid-word as you mouthed a,“Don’t. You. Dare,” in his direction.

Nobara's eyes lit up, and her grin turned positively feral. “Oh? Oh. This is going to be good.” She leaned forward, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Spill it, sensei.”

“Nope. Not happening.” You fixed Gojo with a glare that could have melted steel, your hand still firmly pressed against his mouth. “Right, sensei?”

If he valued his life, he'd keep his mouth shut about a certain crimson-eyed complication in your life.

Gojo nodded, peeling your hand from his mouth.

“Sorry kiddo, my lips are sealed.”

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The rest of the day passed in moderate normalcy—well, as normal as things could be at Jujutsu High—and, apart from the constant bombardment of questions about where you'd disappeared to, why you couldn't reply, and why you had such a knack for vanishing in the first place.

All that practice in lying these past weeks suddenly seemed lost on you as you wove together one pathetic excuse after another. You couldn't fathom how they still tolerated you.

The afternoon's training session was particularly brutal—though you couldn't shake the suspicion that your friends had coordinated their attacks as subtle punishment for your radio silence. By the time you finished washing up and preparing to leave, your muscles ached with a strain that felt more like penance than practice.

And the thought of returning home—to him—added an equally painful strain on top of it.

Your tired goodbye in the corridor was interrupted by Nobara's firm grip on your arm. “Listen here, missy. You better show up tomorrow, or I swear we'll kidnap you back to the dorms ourselves.” Her words were stern, but her eyes soft.

“24/7 surveillance. Don't test me.”

Yuji punctuated her threat with a quick flick to your forehead. “Yeah, you idiot.”

Even Megumi contributed a curt nod and his signature “Hmph”—which, felt like a paragraph of worried lectures compressed into a single sound.

You bowed slightly before offering a salute, forcing lightness into your voice.

“Yes sir, yes ma'am!”

As you zipped up your coat and turned to leave, waving one final time with a genuine smile on your face, the normalcy of the moment felt comforting and light.

The crisp afternoon air hit your face as you stepped outside, and for a moment, you reveled in that strange weightlessness that came with pretending everything was fine.

Yet there was that familiar pull too—that inexplicable gravity drawing you back to the tension, the danger, and the intoxicating feeling of Sukuna's cursed energy, draping over you like a blanket. The pull usually grew heavier the farther you walked from the school premises.

But this time, when you reached the gates, you realized you still felt unusually light—so light, in fact, that something felt off... and a quick pat-down of your chest confirmed your suspicions: you'd forgotten your backpack, with your phone inside.

If you lost your phone now and were forced to ghost your friends all over again, you weren't sure if they'd forgive you so easily.

Your shoes squeaked against the polished floors as you hurried back inside. But just before rounding the corner to retrieve your bag, Nobara's voice, pitched high with frustration, stopped you cold.

“Okay, but seriously—am I the only one who thinks something's like, seriously wrong here?”

You froze mid-step, pressing yourself against the wall. Your heart clenched at the genuine concern in her voice.

“No.” Megumi's response lacked its usual detachment, instead replaced by brimming frustration. “The excuses don't add up. Phone troubles? Family emergencies? And now suddenly everything's fine?”

“Yeah...” Yuji agreed—the gravity of his voice was enough to make you want to sink into the ground.

“Did you see how she kept touching her neck? Like she was hiding something?”

“And flinching whenever anyone got too close,” Nobara added, anger bleeding into her words. “I know we're all pretending everything's normal, but—” A frustrated groan escaped her. “God, it pisses me off! We're supposed to be friends, aren't we? What's the point if she can't trust us?”

The sound of Nobara's shoe scuffing against the floor filled the heavy pause that followed.

“Maybe...” Yuji started, “maybe she's in some kind of trouble? Like, the kind she can't talk about?”

“All the more reason she should tell us,” Megumi cut in, “We're not exactly helpless. Whatever it is, we could—”

“Help?” Nobara's snort was bitter—nothing like her usual bright laugh. “How can we help if she won't even tell us what's wrong? I mean, I get it. I do. But it still...”

Her voice cracked. “It still hurts, you know?”

You let yourself slide down the wall.

Sure, they'd welcomed you back with open arms, but underneath that warmth lay real pain, real worry. These people—your friends—had spent weeks wondering if you were dead in a ditch somewhere, and here you were, feeding them cheap excuses.

“Should we tell Gojo-sensei?” Yuji asked.

“He already knows something,” Megumi replied with a certainty that suggested he'd been watching, analyzing, for far longer than you'd realized. “Haven't you noticed? He watches her like a hawk.”

“Yeah, well, fat lot of good that does us,” Nobara muttered. “He's probably in on whatever this is. You saw how he was acting this morning.”

After another weighted pause, Yuji spoke again, stripped of nearly all his drive. “So what do we do?”

“We wait,” Megumi said firmly. “Keep watching. And when whatever this is inevitably blows up—because it will—we'll be ready.”

You heard Nobara's sharp intake of breath, like she was about to say more, but instead, her footsteps stormed off toward the dorms, followed by the others' more silent retreat.

After giving yourself a moment to compose yourself, to wipe away the tears threatening to spill from your eyes, you retrieved your abandoned backpack from the empty hallway.

The walk home felt hollow, each step through the bustling city streets seemed to echo into the distance.

You'd convinced yourself you were protecting them by keeping them in the dark, but maybe you were just protecting yourself from having to face the reality of your choices.

The worst part? You couldn't even promise you'd tell them the truth tomorrow. Not with Sukuna's binding vow hanging over your head like a guillotine, and not if it meant admitting you were becoming a monster by falling for one.

So you'd keep lying. Keep hurting them. Keep pretending everything was—

“Watch it, brat.”

The growl came a second after you slammed into what felt like a brick wall. A bit of déjà vu—was this the third time? Fourth time you'd bumped into him like this? You stumbled back, already knowing who you'd find towering over you.

And it was exactly the crimson eyes you'd expected.

“Can you move, Sukuna?” you snapped. He hadn't done anything particularly egregious today—well, besides nearly making you come undone under his fingers this morning. But perhaps, subconsciously, you blamed him for the hurt your friends were feeling right now... how typically pathetic of you to once again push the blame onto someone else.

You stood in the middle of the street, people flowing around you like water around stones, oblivious to the predator in their midst.

And when that predator bared his teeth at you and his angry glare didn't seem to waver, you gave in,

“Ugh... I'm sorry, okay? I'm just not in a good mood today.”

He let out a low growl and grabbed your shoulder, shoving you forward. “Walk.”

It wasn't a suggestion, and so you let him steer you through the crowd, his grip tight enough to remind you exactly who you'd been addressing so casually. At the first empty alley, he yanked you in and planted himself against the wall, his hands shoved into his pockets.

“Is this about the conversation with Kenjaku this morning? I'll just forget about it so—” you started, trying to head off his wrath, but his sharp laugh cut through your words.

“Oh? Were you eavesdropping on our conversation all the way from the bathroom, woman? How sly...” His eyes narrowed dangerously.

“Perhaps I should chain you up the next time I have guests.”

The threat barely registered as you realized—the conversation he was referring to was the one he had with Kenjaku by the door during your shower, not the one-on-one you had with Kenjaku outside.

And thank god for that, it was better he remained entirely unaware of that particular encounter.

“No, I just—nevermind. Why did you drag me here?”

He reached deeper into his pocket, pulling out what appeared to be an ordinary silver whistle. It caught the dying sunlight as it dangled from his fingers.

“Tomorrow at Jujutsu High. Three o'clock. Blow this and it will summon a curse.”

“Why would I—”

“Because,” he cut in, clearly savoring the moment, “Jujutsu High will be receiving some unexpected visitors tomorrow.” His lips curled into that cruel smile that reminded you he was no ally—he was an enemy, fighting from the opposite side of a chasm you kept trying to bridge.

“And you, brat, are going to create a distraction for them.”

Your stomach dropped. “You're kidding, right?”

“Do I look like I'm joking, woman?” He pushed off the wall, closing the distance between you until barely inches remained.

“There’s something inside Jujutsu High that we need. Jogo and Mahito will retrieve it tomorrow, but they can’t unless all eyes are elsewhere. You’ll blow this whistle, summon a curse, and create enough chaos to make those pathetic fools scatter and scurry, leaving their precious artifacts unguarded.”

“No.” The word came out stronger than you expected, fueled by the memory of your friends' hurt voices. “I won't help you with a plan that puts my friends at risk.”

His jaw clenched. “Don't forget your place.”

“My place? What place? My place as the toy you play with in the morning and discard in the afternoon? The girl you can’t decide if you want to kiss or kill?” A bitter laugh escaped you.

His hand twitched, and you recognized the tell—he was about to strike, either grab your throat or slap your face. But you knew his mannerisms so well by now that you caught his wrist before he could complete the motion.

And he... he let you.

He was stronger, you both knew that, and yet he allowed your delicate fingers to wrap around his wrist and halt his fury.

“They're my friends,” you said quietly, not with fight but with earnestness in your voice. “And you're asking me to help hurt them. Do you realize how fucked up that is?”

You could feel his entire body trembling with rage beneath your fingertips, fighting against his baser instincts.

“The binding vow—” he started—

but you weren't finished yet.

“Yeah, I know about the stupid vow! I'm reminded of it every minute of every day, but I won't obey you if it means people die—people I care about...”

A long silence followed, and you could see the battle raging behind his eyes. His wrist occasionally twisted in your grip, the fire behind his pupils fluctuating between a small flame and an inferno before settling somewhere in between.

He yanked his hand free and took a step back, running his fingers through his hair in a simple human gesture of frustration.

When he spoke again, his voice had lost some of its earlier edge.

“Even those frail teachers at Jujutsu High won't break a sweat against a curse like this—it's barely a grade one. Hell, even your little group of friends could exorcise it if they used their brains. It won't kill anyone.”

But it wasn't the curse that worried you—it was Patch-face and Volcano-head.

“That's not good enough. Do you remember how Mahito maimed me before? I want your word that they won’t kill anyone, that I won’t stumble upon a pile of deformed corpses or the smell of burned flesh.”

He stared at you for a long moment, irritated, because he couldn't quite comprehend how this had transformed from an undisputable command into a negotiation.

But he saw that wet gleam in your eyes, and—

“Tch. Fine,” he growled finally.

“I'll tell that fool Mahito to keep his victims breathing, and refrain from altering them... permanently.” He pressed the whistle into your palm, his fingers lingering a second longer than necessary.

“As for Jogo, he won't cause any unnecessary casualties, but I'll give him the same warning if that's what it takes for you to blow the damn whistle, woman.”

Sukuna grabbed your chin, tilting your face up to his, hovering mere inches away.

“And you will blow that whistle. That is a command.”

You met his gaze, and there it was again—that magnetic pull, that force that made you silently nod in agreement. That power Sukuna had over you not just because he'd enforced it, but because some part of you allowed him to have it.

And if you could have read his thoughts in that moment, you would have known he felt exactly the same way.

Though... he probably would have worded it differently: like a curse you'd put on him, like a festering wound steadily working its way deeper, cracking open his skin so his carefully buried humanity started to slowly ooze out.

And just like you, he was allowing it to happen—allowing you to touch that bare skin and peel it open just a little further each time.

When you couldn't hold his gaze anymore, you took a small step back, fidgeting with the whistle before tucking it into your pocket.

“Hey, Sukuna?”

He raised an eyebrow, staring down at you.

If he agreed to your conditions then...

“Thank you.” The words came out soft, and before you could second-guess yourself, you rose on your tiptoes and pressed your lips to his.

Your first kiss that was, just a kiss. Not a battle, not a lust-fueled dance. Just a simple, ordinary touch of lips.

You pulled away quickly, not daring to see his reaction as you turned and dashed toward the apartment, leaving Sukuna frozen in place.

He stood there, motionless, as the city moved around him in an endless blur of faceless ants. His fingers drifted up to his lips, brushing over them.

For the first time in centuries, the King of Curses found himself utterly still, utterly silent. The inferno of his cursed energy had quieted to barely a whisper, like even it was holding its breath.

As the last rays of sunlight bled from the sky, casting long shadows across the empty alley, Sukuna finally lowered his hand from his lips. A low, confused growl rumbled in his chest as he turned to make his way to the apartment—home to you.

---------------------------------------------------------

Okay, first off, I want to apologize for the hiatus. Life hit me with a lot—health issues, writer’s block, the holidays—and some other personal challenges in my private life. It’s been overwhelming, and honestly, I kind of lost my spark for a while.

Ao3 curse? Maybe. Or maybe it’s just good ol' bad karma for releasing smut on the internet—who knows?

That said, when I finally started writing again, it felt really good, so I’m going to do my best to stick to a bi-weekly update schedule from now on. Some chapters might be a bit shorter because of it, but when I’m in the flow, they might end up being longer too. We’ll see how it goes!

For everyone still here reading—thank you from the bottom of my heart. Your support means the absolute world to me, and I genuinely appreciate each and every one of you. Truly, I love you all. 💕

Taglist: @sukunasthightattoos , @tomiokasecretlover , @6demonize6me6 , @blindbabycadder , @domainofmarie , @marcoschuitmaker , @geniejunn , @chanaaaannel , @nessca153 , @technicallysublimedemon

If you want to be added to the taglist, so you don't miss any updates, please let me know in the comments or with a private message. Thankyou!

[seat-safety-switch]

"Oh cripes, it's the painters," yelps my humble assistant before she dives for cover and starts frantically texting for backup.

It's too late. The boys from the bodyshop up the street have already appeared in the junkyard. Their keen eyes are meticulously scrutinizing the Pick-N-Pull's extremely limited quantity of intact Hyundai Scoupe bumpers. They are looking for a donor that is good enough to clean up, spray in their fancy "spray booth" while wearing their "respiratory protection," and sell to some poor bastard working without rest for the faceless void of rage that is the Uber Eats algorithm.

Why is this bad for the rest of us, especially myself, who owns exclusively cars before the Hyundai Motor Corporation was even brought into existence by the marriage between the Goddess Sonata and the Ancient Emperor, 1985 Pony CXL? Mostly because the painters are kind of obnoxious about the whole thing. Like many other individuals who spend their working hours sitting in an enclosed room and huffing paint all day, they consider themselves to be artists. Also, we have somewhat of a personal rivalry. Let me explain.

Now, as we all know, painters and bodywork techs drive very ugly cars. You likely can guess why. After a hard day of work putting shiny things on dull things, making the shiny things dull again, and putting more shiny things on the previously shiny things (that are now dull,) there's absolutely no way that they want to spend a few more hours making their shit-box daily driver pretty. They've seen how cars get wrecked by the flippant outside world. It would destroy them emotionally. Rather than love and lose, they choose to harden their hearts, like resin baking off on a freshly fogged panel under a heat lamp.

Of course, painters are also not mechanics, and they're certainly not shitbag mechanics like myself. Their grungy, shitty cars often fall apart from some trivial mechanical failure that I would jump over, Super Mario-like, without even noticing. Many of the painters, such as Shaky Tim, have seen me in even worse cars that run flawlessly.

Due to my profligate junk-dealing and scam-pedalling all over town, they have had many opportunities to watch me barrel over a centre median, drive the wrong way into traffic, blow a band out of an automatic transmission – and be back on the road in a few minutes thanks to my magical connection to the shitbox vibe. This causes envy on the part of the painters, especially when I refuse to fix their cars or even stop to lend a reassuring word. And I certainly don't give them money to paint my car: all that beautiful new colour would get wrecked the next time a brake line ruptures at highway speeds. Last a week, tops.

"Oh look, it's him," the head painter sneers, with an affect that I still think is approximating a fake French accent. They must have put some new cartoons on at the jobber shop. "Do you even know what to do with those body panels?"

"I know what not to do. I'm not gonna pay for 'em," I bark, and go back to yeeting an entire '67 Imperial passenger-side over the fence out back because it won't fit in my pocket. The gaggle of squirty-boys grimace in pain as the door bounces off the barbed-wire on top, and falls into the ditch behind the junkyard with some grotesque scratches across the paint.

With all the money I'm saving, I suggest to the aggrieved painters, I can probably even afford a can of new Tremclad.

[valentine-cafe]

...on the other hand i also wanna request kind of the opposite of my last one. What if a reader who was generally shy and not suave went up to your flirtiest and more charming etc characters and tried to be flirty? But was clearly stressed cause your ocs were so gorgeous but cue reader trying to be flirty anyway like trying to compliment them but spluttering and apologising (basically "you- i- sorry you're just- pretty- *flusters and blushes and wants the earth to swallow them whole*)

:3 only if you guys have the time tho ofc!!😘

. ˚◞♡ 𝒔𝒉𝒚 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒇𝒍𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒔 ◞ ₊˚

𖹭. a selection of the flirtiest bastards and their reaction when your shy self flirts with them /gn reader

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ꒰ ALESSIO 781 ꒱ sealed your fate the second that you approached him. what were you thinking? of course he just leaned up against his locker, folded his arms and watched with with an arched of his pierced brow. a smirk on his black-stained lipstick. “what’s a pretty thing like you apologising for, cariño? quite the show you’ve given me.” steps on closer and brushes your hair back / fixes your collar before he leans his tall height down. that damned smirk only making you shrink more. “no running away now, go on. ‘m pretty yeah?” poor you. he’s the worst, but at least he’s polite about it.

enigma x reader, mercenary x reader, antihero x reader

 

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ꒰ TAE-HYUN 209 ꒱ didn’t even give you a chance before his turquoise eyes were giving you the elevator look. down your figure then back up to your lips - if only to meet your eyes again. a clear smirk on his lips and a small tilt of his head. he wouldn’t say anything at first, simply letting you fluster. letting you stammer and try to find your words. but when you called him pretty? he’d just chuckle and signal you closer with a curl of his finger. “cute. come give me your name. I’ll take you out for some coffee.” 

park tae-hyun, one of the leaders in the resistance and an enigma who can shapeshift. cool and collected, an effortless, smug bastard who's dedicated to his work in protecting supernatural and thwarting the psychopathic herrera husbands. long, straight turquoise green hair that reaches his shoulders, turquoise green eyes, slight tanned skin, stands at 6’11”

enigma x reader, shapeshifter x reader

 

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ꒰ HÀOYÚ 9948E ꒱ was stacking away some books when he heard your splutters and stammers. the way you leaned over the counter of the library to try and garner his attention. the reaper arched his brow and couldn’t help the series of chuckles that left him before he so effortlessly sauntered over. leaning on the same counter on the opposite end. leaning his elbow against it and placing his head in his hand. staring at you with those sharp diaoxazine eyes and a devilish grin that had your heart doing flips. “oh, are you struggling? well, don’t stop now.” his face would lean closer. “I must say you’re quite pretty yourself. stammering and stuttering like that.” pokes your nose with a clawed nail and then trails it down to your lips. poor you, again. he’s also the worst.

grim reaper x reader

 

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ꒰ RISHEN 1311 ꒱ only leans back against his chair. sharp maroon eyes keeping a steady gaze on your eyes as you stand before his desk. his head tilts up, to the side and his expression makes you think that you’re doing everything wrong. well - until a quirk of his lips made your want to fall to your knees then and there. with one of his legs crossed, his scarlet stiletto taps mid-air, before a soft, deep croon rumbles from his throat after a hushed click of his tongue. “aww pobrecito,” ( poor thing ) a pat to his lap with an idle hand. “c’mere. seems like you are struggling. let me help you out.”

admiral x reader, spy x reader, assassin x reader

 

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ꒰ ALESSIO 1311 ꒱ was thrilled when he heard your once confident voice quiver and noticed the ways your eyes fluttered. the last thing he expected was for one of the bartenders at the place he performs at to start flirting with him. but who was he to deny you? doesn’t say a damn thing and simply backs you up until your back flushes against the edge of the bar counter - which he soon boxes you against when two of his arms reach to rest on either side of you. those beady, all-magenta eyes peer into yours and the grin on his lips tells you all that you need to. “looks like you need some practice. want some help?”

rockstar x reader, enigma x reader, mercenary x reader, villain x reader

[ad-astrah]

Finally Watched Cinderella's Castle Digital Ticket (Twice) and I Gotta Get My Feelings Out Somewhere, Somehow (Part I)

Feel free to light up my DMs to chat about it!

And now, for my personal highlights/live reactions:

immediately I'm drawn in by Nick Lang's silly narrator voice and the way he warns us of what's coming. Especially the "muRrrDder!"

Jeff Blim cut his hair. JEFF BLIM CUT HIS HAIR. Not that I didn't like the long locks, but something about his Aladdin Era short hair gets me, man.

Jeff Blim literally getting to own the stage like the man was born to

Jeff Blim's slutty bard getup with the artfully messy hair and the heavy guyliner. That sinful bastard.

"Let's go." I'll follow you anyway, slutty bard.

Okay 80s rock jam! Hell yes.

idk why but I just love the line "There are tales in those walls, are they true or are they tall?"

THIS SET, THO. 80s vibes. Muppets vibes. Princess Bride vibes. Spooky, ethereal fairytale vibes. I love it! Props to the team who designed and built it.

prance, slutty bard boy, prance around that stage.

Jesus Fuck, I've only seen Joey's puppet but I'm already SOLD. Nick and Matt Lang and whoever else had a hand in making these puppets fucking OUTDID themselves! Did they use the Black Book and resurrect Jim Henson?

Throughout the show, the muppet vibes just absolutely amaze and delight me. Makes me feel like a little kid, spellbound by this fairytale. Except it's much darker, more gruesome, way more explicit, and extremely horny.

Oh look, it's Joey's Jingle/Jangle (whichever elf he was) voice from Black Friday.

Love me some o' dat non-binary representation from Ragweed. Starkid once again screaming GAY RIGHTS bitches.

I'm getting some of Jeff's Aragog from AVPS in this Narrator. Anyone else?

Stupid STUPID butcher!

Jon Matteson's accent. *giggles madly*

Angela IMMEDIATELY having to pause for applause before she finishes her first freaking line. The queen deserves it all, though.

The foreshadowing of the Stepmother cutting off Ella's feet. O_O

"It's furryyyyy and fouuuuul and full o' maGOTTTSSaaaaaggghhhh!"

Angela doing the little spinny finger thing in a guy's face to fluster them just like Max did to her character in Nerdy Prudes. I love these physical running gags. My fave being the Smoke Club, though.

OIIIINK oinkoinkoinkoinkoinkoink

Sir Preston asking for help from the audience. His "ELLAaaaaa....nooooo....."

The lighting in this entire show is SO COOL.

Again, Jeff just louging like a whore about the set like its his bitch. I live for it.

James' COSTUME. He looks SO FUCKING GOOD. Props to the costume folks...and to James' rockin' genes.

"But nothing compares to the juice and the hairs..." Oh no. Ohhhhh no I see where this is going. Don't say it, James, don't-- omg he said it.

er ee er ee er ee *window rolling down*

I thought the Prince drawing bewbies on the frosty window was funny already, and then he goes WAH WAH WAH and pretends to pinch them and I fucking lost it.

The Prince checkin' out DAT AZZZZZZ XD

"I'd wager she's wetter now than when I first found her bobbing in the river." OH MY GOD. PRINCE. THAT'S HER NOT-MOM.

If his highness has had every STD and beaten it, that's so fucked up but also damn, that boy's immune system is killin' it. Literally.

"Poor mad EllaAH"

"This is one thirsty FUCKING house." For real, omg.

"The offer stands firm. Come calling if you are!" *screams*

Jeff miming being crew and pulling the ropes for the curtains.

*audience member sneezes* "Bless you."

Angela's diction is next fucking level. PUNY. PINK. KIND.

The epic troll reveal! The puppets are SO GOOD.

THE FROG FUCKING TURNING AWAY AS SHE ASKED FOR IT TO DO SO SHE COULD KILL IT. CHRIST.

This bayou boogie song of Ella's is an absolute KILLER BOP. Holy shit. And it's SO perfect for Bryce's funky, sassy voice.

Speaking of which, BRYCE'S VOCALS. I'm gonna scream about them for forever and ever and ever. I love her voice SO FUCKING MUCH. I could listen to nothing else for the rest of my days and die a happy little gay.

"ohhhh woah woah waohhh" *flips the bird* She's such a queen for that.

"It needs oregano" WORK BITCH

Bryce's stage presence is fucking INSANE. I dunno how she's not on Broadway, but thank goodness we got her!

SIRE MANY TADPOLES!

GOD I love this absolutely depraved, horny little bastard of a prince.

It's amazing Tadeus hasn't murdered the prince yet. The man deserves a medal for the literal shit he's put up with.

Bugette?! I thought you choked on shit died and were consumed by the Hive Queen?

Rancilda being a typical troll and loving lurking under bridges and telling riddles.

Schuyler Sister vibes from the song with Justine and Lucy. So cute.

Justine and Lucy are SUCH real ones for IMMEDIATELY believing Ella about her family being trolls and for saying "fuck the ball, we're leaving NOW."

Shake dat ass, Mariah!

Lauren's physical comedy as Rancilda is NEXT LEVEL. I'm wheezing over here!

iSNn'tT it A BiiIItTcH?!

I LOOK GOOD IN THIS. What an absolute fucking BANGER. This song is gonna play in my head on repeat for the next decade. What a next level villain song.

Also this gives me some strongass Joan Jett vibes. "I love wearin' the skin of dead girls rock 'n' roll!"

and I hEEeaARr yoU'Re RiiiCCHhH

Seriously, is this the next Top Chart breakup revenge song? It should be.

"I really LIKE that song!" XD Putrice. I love how much of an absolute BIMBO she is.

Rancilda singing the song again. "SHUT UP STUPID BITCH, THE SONG'S OVER." "Okaaaaiiii"

Matt Dahan's ability to riff off the main songs and create motifs is otherworldly.

General MacNamara? Is that you?! Oh wait, nope. Still my slutty, slutty bard.

I LOOOOOOOVE this badass electric guitar intro, holy shit.

Kim Whalen, the queen, getting the bitchin' entrance she deserves.

Starkid is so, so good at their sound design to help immerse you in a scene without blowing a big budget or doing anything elaborate.

...Kim. My girl. Your arms must be tired.

She's just standing there, but Kim's stage presence is still so strong.

I can't get over how Jon's Sir Hops-A-Lot's voice is just a small...ahem. Hop, skip, and a jump away from Wiggly's.

JOEY. THAT ACCENT. You ABSOLUTE genius idiot. I love you for this stupidass voice.

Joey's bowl cut makes me giggle like mad.

I love these two puppets SO much.

GIT IT, KIM.

The call and response bit with Ella and the Goddess reminds me of Hamilton when Washington is dictating his Farewell Address. I know it's gotta be in other musicals, too, but that's the clearest comparison for this nerd at the moment.

Jeff sneaking in the "castle on a hill" song reference in this song.

Kim and Bryce dueting together is just Power incarnate. Holy cow. It's so good.

"You shall be as radiant and terrible as I." Ooooooh. Yes. Gimme.

The Narrator sneaking out from amidst the ensemble to finish off the song was really neat.

That fading spotlight before curtain for intermission with just Ella's face in view is so beautiful and haunting. What an epic close to Act I.

Also, it seems like this was also a strategic way to imply Ella's outfit being transformed there on stage during the song without actually having to do the tricky costume designing quick-change theater miracles of an ACTUAL outfit transformation. Which is really brilliant. Leave the audience to wonder until post-intermission about what Ella's starlight dress will look like.

[kwillow]

I have to ask of Ambroys. Is there a standard he has of people, no matter how low, that has to be respected that when broken would result in him stepping in?

Ambroys' sense of morality and good taste are both exceedingly simplistic and malleable. He knows what sorts of things to parrot and he might even be able to convince himself he actually believes things like "stealing is wrong, be kind to your neighbor," but he doesn't really think about or care what other people do unless it impacts him in some way or is so egregious that it's a no-brainer to hate it.

He likes the status quo. He likes when the world is clean, simple and predictable. He also believes in the privileges afforded to those with status and power -- and conveniently, he thinks of himself as being near the top of that pyramid, and those that he's fond of get to be, oh, a few rungs below him. So, he might step in to stop someone who is mocking his brother for being a bastard... but he's fully within his rights to do the same thing to the poor guy. Charly is Ambroys' brother which makes him more important than the average person (to Ambroys), so normal people have no right to bully him, but also Charly is below Ambroys in status, so Ambroys is fully in his rights to bully Charly. But if that person was mocking bastards in general, rather than the specific bastard he's related to, it wouldn't bother him, because bastards are low status, and they're all strangers anyway, so what does he care? Status quo, doesn't affect him. (Unless, of course, he was trying to befriend someone who did care about the rights of bastards, in which case he would speak up so he looks good to that person.)

But even his thoughts on the rights afforded by status are malleable. If he was drinking with a group of commoners and they were complaining about the nobility, he'd laugh along with them. It would make him uncomfortable if they were getting a little too revolution-y about it, but they're just peasants, what could they even really do? It doesn't affect him right now. You know what does? If he says something too controversial and they don't want to party with him anymore. That's what's important here.

I think the only way he'd bother to act "altruistically" and in accordance with any interpretation of real moral standards would be in punishing those whom society has deemed unambiguously okay to punish. If he came across someone who he knew was a dangerous murderer with a price on his head, he'd have no qualms firing an arrow through the man's head. Ostensibly this would be about justice, but emotionally he would feel the same way about it as someone might feel squishing a cockroach in their basement. "That's disgusting and I don't want it in my house. Die."

(Older Ambroys cares a bit more about laws and has more stringent standards for politeness and morality and is very willing to step in and enforce them, but since they're the laws and standards HE MADE and he loses absolutely nothing by squashing people like bugs if they don't dance to his tune, I don't think that counts as "moral fiber.")

[soaps-mohawk]

Oh my gawd WHY IS IT STILL SO PAINFULLL. This chapter was still so sad to read. 'mega clearly didn't want to watch the whole thing or kill him(even if the freak deserves it(coming back after the hiatus was quite the contrast after spending months fixated on that stupid Texas bastard)) like Simon himself said way before the kidnapping that she's not a soldier, she hasn't been condition to live with that pain and guilt, AND THE LACK OF COMFORT OH MY GOD. It's something I noticed from the start of the fic that always gave this air of things never being quite ideal but it takes center stage now(even if mega is still now willing to forgive them, rightfully so) is the way they don't notice the small things?? Especially now when they're realizing how little they knew about poor 'mega. Johnny nudging her inside despite not wanting to, the hovering John's insistence on doing everything himself. Like even when they finally took her out to the sea this unwillingness to be truthful. Especially in this chapter when 'mega finally said outright that she doesn't like surprises and they'd known if they would have paid attention. like yeah it's small things BUT THOSE THINGS ADD UP, AND JUST MAKE THE SITUATION EVEN MORE PAINFUL(like John not even telling her why they brought her there until the last moment like JESUS. That was a red flag for me.) but the Convo with Dr. Keller and the set up that 'mega will finally confront them about this GOT ME SO HYPED. The girl deserves to shed those pushover habits, it's probably the most frustrating part of reading this series personally as someone who's also putting a lot of effort into unlearning them. What an emotional banger, that I've been obsessed with for like 2 months now. I even made a playlist for it, combining vocaloid, video game music and Tchaikovsky so here that if you're interested

https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLdvKg781XoUfaZkGXLmqVLsbj4UD2y-C6&si=Z8iLaV--w0-nTVQv

(also will we ever get a bad ending au where the bond does break..? I know it wouldn't happen soon with everything in the world rn and the angst marathon that we had before the rewrites.. but I'm still a sucker for guilt angst. Things turning out to be unrepairable, the 141 left to live with a hole in their heart, and 'mega trying to move on without them.)

Things really have been tense in the fic, huh? You're so right though, the whole fic has kind of revolved around the idea that things really aren't ideal and all of them were kind of forced into this situation without any chance to really get to know each other first. Even the 141 had to learn about each other on the fly. There's a lot they don't know, especially about 'mega. They haven't really been paying attention, relying on 'mega to kind of adjust and be the one to tell them everything instead of learning themselves. Which we know babygirl isn't going to just outright say something, or at least she wasn't going to at first. Now...now things have changed a bit. I'll say that much.

I'm so going to listen to that playlist! I love when people make playlists omg I've never had that done before this fic.

I don't think I'd ever write out the full angst-filled version where things don't turn out as ideal. I do have an idea for how it would play out, but I'm not sure I could actually write it.

[sylviesoothsayer22]

Husband? OTHER Husband?! Wait… I’m the Husband Too?

HuaWeiLian Oneshot (Complete)

Summary:

It was a goddam struggle to peel back his eyelids.

The moment he was able to, Wei Ying cursed the day he was given eyes.

What the fuck was with all this white? It screams obsessive cleanliness!

So spotless, the pope could make snow angels on the sanitized ground and his ‘pure as the driven snow’ robes would come out cleaner.

Utterly stainless, a dedicated housewife could walk in here, broom and dustpan ready, only to shrug her shoulders and say: “Well, I’ve got nothing to do now. Time to kick back my feet!”

Incredibly clean to the point that if you asked a germaphobe to lick the floor, they’d shrug their shoulders and ask “Where would you like me to start?”

He was in hell OR this was Lan Qiren’s panic room.

Either way: Let. Him. Out!!!!

What’s that…? These two hotties are his caregivers…??

Nevermind then~

(Read the tags, people. Seriously, read the tags.)

Read to the end for author's notes:

It took a ridiculously long time for his eyes to crack open.

Honestly? It felt as if some bastard super-glued his lids shut. What a jerk!

When those stubborn skinfolds finally obeyed his commands, his poor, innocent retinas were hit with a world of white.

The room was so bright, it was as if there were tiny, microscopic drills tearing through his eyeballs! Is this some kind of White Room torture that he’s heard so much about?! If he was being tortured to confess to a crime, he was ready. Just get him out of this solar-powered chamber of agony!

The room in question looked awful . White walls, white curtains, white sheets. It looked as if the outdated concept of virginity threw up all over the room! There was also an odd smell slowly killing his nostrils. Bitter antiseptics, the sharp stinginess of rubbing alcohol, fruit scents so artificial they made fruits themselves cry. As if that wasn’t enough methodical torture for a lifetime, there was also the scent of cleaning chemicals polluting the air in his room. 

Angry lights stabbed into his eyes and an icky hodgepodge of unbearable, unappealing smells wafted up his abused nose, repeatedly smacking his precious brain until he was tormented with a headache. Augh!

He was lying on a tiny, not-so comfy bed (the mattress was almost as thin as a sheet of paper!) tucked into a disgusting, clinically white duvet, the latter of which was an insult to all the duvets of the world with how ridiculously scratchy it was. Double augh!

The ‘duvet’ was so thick, he couldn’t even see the outline of his body or legs. 

Wait. 

Did he still have legs? Or feet? He couldn't even feel them. Did they take advantage of his unconscious form and commit the crime of unconsented amputation?! That better had been done by a professional at least!

Oh, wait! A toe wriggle! They were still there! Yay!

Next order of business: water . His throat was as dry as the Gobi Desert. 

There was a water bottle on his nightstand. Double yay!

But it was just out of arms’ reach. Booooo!

He started half-shimmying, half-caterpillaring to the precious life essence, so close yet so far… like it was deliberately placed there to taunt him. Wait, was it poisoned? Then it would be a death essence, wouldn’t it? He couldn’t blame anyone for wanting to off him, though. Heaven only knows how many people he’s pissed off throughout the years. Maybe one of them finally wised up and decided to snuff out his existence.

Come on…. come ooooonnnn. Just a few inches more… He snickered at his word choice. Thought choice? Thought word choice? Whatever. He was too sober for this.

Wei Ying’s fingers were close to brushing against the blasted plastic when it was suddenly pushed into his open hand, a warm pair of arms were wrapping around his shoulders, followed by a firm grip tenderly guiding him to a proper sitting position on the bed.

“You shouldn’t push yourself so soon, Ying’er.” A beautiful voice waltzed into his ears like music, gently scolding him. All Wei Ying could do was gape like an idiot.

Long, deep brown hair held up by a red ribbon, contrasting nicely against the dark locks, their strands looking like sun-soaked wheat as they reflected off the room’s bright lights, honey-brown eyes that were as sweet as that lovely voice, velvety lips that looked as soft as peach blossom petals, long lashes that fluttered against a face that appeared as if it was carved for an idol to be worshipped….

Pretty… His dumb brain whispered in awe.

So this was heaven then… That explained the all-encompassing brightness. Suddenly Wei Ying was very happy with the hostage situation he found himself in. It wasn’t every day angels swept him off his feet!

Oh, what a beauty! I must’ve passed the pearly gates and met my guardian angel~ If this is what I get in the end, I'll gladly die again. 

The angel’s ears turned red.

“That’s a new one. But I’m no angel, dear.”

Did he say that out loud?

“Yes.” His not-guardian angel huffed, holding back a laugh. What a pity. He truly did need a guardian angel. This guardian angel. On his honour!

“Oops?” He responded, sounding as apologetic as a child who got caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

“It’s alright.” Angel-ge waved off, a smile playing on those petal-pink lips. Their faces were so close, he could feel the other’s warm breath- “And for your information, Ying’er. You’re not dead.”

Ying’er….His name was Wei Ying (right?). Yet, Mr. Angel kept calling him ‘Ying’er’. 

Did they know each other…?

“Oh, that’s good. The-not-being-dead-thing. Ying’er would’ve been very sad.” Wei Ying babbled, shooting the pretty man a dorky smile before wincing. His voice was scratchy and speaking hurt. Unfair! Was this his accumulated bad karma biting him in the ass? There was no other reason he would sound so terrible in front of beauty personified.

Realising that the water bottle was now resting on his lap, he started fiddling with the cap, his stupid fingers flailing around like worms squirming on fish hooks.

Another pair of pale hands with black nail polish – Huh. Didn’t know he had a second set of arms. Interesting color choice. – entered Wei Ying’s field of vision.

The hands took the water bottle from his joke of a grip, twisting the cap off before holding the bottle’s neck up to his lips.

He greedily drank the blessed liquid, its coolness soothing his parched throat.

As Wei Ying drank, Angel-ge let go – Nooo. Wait. Come back... – and started arranging a pillow pile to support his back, carefully fluffing them as he did so. Oh, you gorgeous blessing, you ~

When he had to stop gulping for a breather, the bottle was taken away. Wei Ying let out a pathetic whine.

“Are you competing with that gluttonous clownfish? You shouldn’t chug it all down or you’ll throw up, A-Ying.”

A smooth, baritone voice, that was not Mr. Angel's, vibrated against his eardrums and Wei Ying almost melted back into the bed. His ears felt like they had had the best orgasm of his life… wait… could ears even do that? Or did the new hottie unlock some higher stage of evolution in him?

Wei Ying craned his head upwards, squinting his eyes to inspect the newcomer, trying to make out what his fuzzy brain was trying to tell him.

The man was tall, with shoulders so broad he was tempted to wrap his arms around them like a clingy monkey that never wanted to let go –could he even accomplish such a feat? Welp, it wouldn't hurt to try.– Skin so pale you would think he was made from ivory, devilishly handsome features that would make even the most ravishing of incubi drown in vinegar, along with exotic, mismatched eyes. One as black as shadow, the other ruby-red, a perfectly formed blood-drop.

With the speed of a turtle fifty years past its youth, Wei Ying finally registered what Mr. Tall and Wickedly Handsome said.

“And why would I be competing with a clownfish, Mr. Morningstar?” He tilted his head to the side, like a lost kitten. He even blinked slowly, fluttering his lashes for good measure.

Devil-ge’s brow quirked upwards, amused.

“Why nickname me after Lucifer?”

“Because you’re tempting me to sin.” Wei Ying answered back, matter-of-factly. The sun rises in the east and sets in the west, Angel-ge is a gorgeous and pure-hearted helper who needs to be kis-ahem!- protected at all costs and Devil-ge is a walking temptation that even married women will gladly toss away their wedding bands for just one night with him.

Angel-ge snorted, finally done with the pillows, while Devil-ge smirked, flashing an alluring pair of canines at Wei Ying.

“Can you please eat me now? Kinda rude of you to play with your food, don’t ya think?”

That earned him a snort.

“He seems alright to me, gege.”

“En,” Angel-ge replied, gaze fixed on Wei Ying with what looked like concern.

“How are you feeling, Ying’er?”

Wei Ying’s brow scrunched up in thought.

“Mmm. My eyes hurt a little….the lighting here is giving me a headache.”

Devil-ge’s titillatingly broad shoulders tensed, frowning.

“I’ll ask the staff to dim the lights for you.” He muttered, sounding displeased for some reason.

“Or maybe it would be better to let him rest some more?” Angel-ge pitched in, honey-brown eyes flitting from Devil-ge back to Wei Ying. 

The man in question wasn’t exactly sure what was happening, but it looked like both beauties were about to leave and he really really didn’t wanna see them go yet.

“No! Nononono! “ Wei Ying stammered, wildly waving around his arms.

“It’s just a small headache! Ying’er can handle it!”

“Don’t be stubborn.” Devil-ge reproached, a hidden note of worry in his voice that Wei Ying’s scrambled brain couldn’t catch. “You’ve been through a lot today, A-Ying. You need rest.”

“But I feel fine! So fine in fact, I can probably fight a hundred battles with my intestines hanging out!”

Seeing that he was getting close to a temper tantrum, Angel-ge carefully laid his hand on top of Wei Ying’s, interlacing their fingers. 

He froze. Questioning the odd familiarity before dismissing it.

How considerate! Who doesn’t like having their hand held? You’re so sweet~

“San Lang’s right. You’ve barely started recovering after the surgery.” Angel-ge chimed in.

Surgery? Ohhhhh!!! Now he gets it! Wei Ying was at a hospital.

These two must be his nurses! No wonder they were so concerned!

Well, damn. If this is the kind of staff they have, I should get sick more often. Or maybe I can break half the bones in my body next so I can stay here for a few extra months…

Although he can’t remember checking in. Just how hard did Wei Ying hit his head?

Aiya! Nevermind that. 

Tantrum attack thwarted. Time to employ his second-best tactic: The Pout™.

Setting his sights on the more susceptible of the two, Wei Ying twisted his lips into a rather pitiful expression.

“Please…? Just for ten more minutes.” He pleaded. Angel-ge’s resolve crumpled in seconds.

Devil-ge breathed out a long, exasperated sigh. As if he’d seen Wei Ying pull this stunt millions of times.

"Fine.” He conceded.

“But you’re going back to sleep after this,” Angel-ge interjected. 

Mission report: successful!

“Deal!” Wei Ying crowed, running a victory lap in his head.

He heard Devil-ge let out an amused huff. The taller of the two reached towards Wei Ying and took his other hand. Running his thumb across the knuckles, tracing meaningless patterns on the back of the sitting man’s hand in a rather intimate display of affection.

Oookaaayy..? They’re both awfully touchy-touchy. This seems a bit excessive. Maybe nurses shouldn’t be doing that? 

Not that Wei Ying was complaining, mind you. He was reverse-complaining. Anti-complaining. Minus- Oh, you get the idea!

Then he noticed the wedding rings resting on their fingers.

The jewellery looked out of place in this mortal plane. To put it simply, they were divine. With the way the crystal circlets shined against the bright lights, it felt as though a celestial being had reached towards the night sky and plucked out a star, moulding it until it crystallised into translucent, fragile bands symbolising the couple’s matrimony. Each of their rings took on the form of two criss-crossing circles, forming an ‘X’ shape secured at the base of their fingers. Colourful flowers that appeared like spun glass rested on the overlapping points. One had what looked like a soft pink peach blossom and deep black spider lily pressed closely to each other in a near-embrace, while the other had the same coloured spider lily and a blazing red camellia flower, with they way the were positioned, the delicate blooms appeared as though they were waltzing around each other.

All the lazily spinning gears in Wei Ying’s head suddenly ground to a halt.

Angel-ge’s just being nice…

But the other one’s flirting. Right in front of his husband.

“You..! You pig !” He sputtered. Yanking his hand away from that-that fiend . “Your spouse is right there ! Have you no shame?! Do you think I’m that easy?! ”

“What? Wei Ying…? What…?” That devil looked at him as if he’d lost it. Yeah, right! Wei Ying clearly wasn’t the one that should get his head checked! Adulterous jackass! 

“I’m sorry, Angel! I didn’t mean to be a homewrecker! No! Worse than that! A chateau-smasher!* Please, forgive me!” Wei Ying implored, voice getting higher with every word until he was practically wailing like a banshee. Already tearing up as he clutched the other man’s sleeve for dear life, praying to any god that was listening for the brunette to understand.

“.....”

“Gege. I don’t think the meds wore off, yet.”

“Yes. I gathered that much, San Lang.” Angel (does Wei Ying even still have the right to call him that now?!) rubbed a tired hand down his face. “I honestly thought he was just disoriented. He seemed like himself at first.” The poor, innocent soul who’d been wronged by Wei Ying’s ignorant self, mumbled under his breath.

Turning his attention back to the situation at hand, the brunette’s face visibly softened at Wei Ying’s pathetic expression.

“Ying’er.” He intoned patiently. “What makes you think you’re being a… ‘chateau-smasher’, as you put it?”

“I kept fighting back the urge to climb your husband like a tree, Angel-ge.” He stated nonchalantly. Might as well be frank, Angel deserved to know what kind of wretch he was caring for. “If he asked me a few minutes ago, I would’ve gladly ascended his throne.”

“Pfff-!” The fiend slapped a hand to his mouth, those outrageously biteable shoulders quaking. Wei Ying ignored him, more focused on the brunette’s reddening face – He already looks so angry! Accept it like a man, you fool! You did this!– and continued:

“He was also being way too familiar with me and I didn’t stop him.”

“Hang on, now. That’s not fair.” The lying cheat butted in. “Gege was acting familiar, too. Why are you only blaming me?”

Wei Ying shot him a glare so heated it would’ve melted the sun itself.

“Because you look like the kind of man fathers warn their daughters to stay away from! This probably isn’t the first time you’ve done something like this!” He ranted. The taller man started wheezing , struggling to hold in the floodgates of laughter against a relentless torrent of dumbassery. Refusing to acknowledge the other man’s antics were affecting him (he does NOT look adorable while holding in a laugh, DAMMIT!!!), Wei Ying continued. “Angel-ge is the sweetest, most thoughtful person you could ever meet! He can do no wrong! Wrong took one look at him as a newborn and decided it wanted nothing to do with that baby!” 

The fiend actually paused mid-cough and took a moment to process.

“Well…I can’t really argue with the latter point.” The fickle rat shrugged, winking cheekily at the brunette, who started choking on air. 

Was the bastard carrying on like everything was fine and dandy?! The nerve of him! He should be grovelling for the next decade! Till the skin of his hands and knees were scraped off!!!

Wei Ying glowered and moved his body to block the fiend’s view of his unfortunate, mistreated spouse. 

“Alright, both of you! That’s enough. San Lang, you're confusing him even more.” Angel-ge chastised, but he sounded as if he were caught between laughter and tears, fanning himself in a futile attempt to make the blush stop spreading.

Wei Ying felt warm fingers grasp his chin, gently urging him to turn his face back to the brunette. 

“Ying’er…I need you to look at me for a second. Okay?” Angel-ge practically crooned so close to his ear. Wei Ying would’ve dissolved into a puddle if he didn’t already feel so guilty. 

He looked up at the other man, bottom lip wobbling, eyes glassy from unshed tears.

“ Good. Now, can you please look at your hand? The right one. Ring finger.”

Wei Ying did as instructed and saw-

“Oh.” He breathed out, staring in disbelief at the crystal circlet adorning his finger. Poking at the wedding band to check if it was real. 

“Yes.” Angel nodded encouragingly. Breathing a sigh of relief. Finally.

“Oh no. No . I’m the cheater. I’m having an affair behind my husband’s back…..” The horrifying realisation hit Wei Ying like a truck. He was the absolute worst…

The brunette facepalmed.

Something must’ve broken inside the taller man’s head. The fiend doubled over, clutching his sides, cackling like a gods’ damned lunatic. He gave hyenas a run for their money and they were literally named for laughing!

“ Holy fuck …I should’ve recorded this…” He choked out, wiping away a teardrop.

“ Wei Ying… ” Angel-ge stressed, sounding like he was close to crying himself. He grabbed the drugged-up idiot’s hand and held up his own. Silently begging Wei Ying to see the similarities in both rings. 

“ We’re the husbands! San Lang and I!” 

“You..?” The moron pointed at the brunette. 

“ Yes .” 

Wei Ying then pointed at the other man who just started straightening up, still catching his breath. 

“And you?” 

“Guilty.” He clapped back with a smirk.

“.....???”

“I thought polygamous marriages were outlawed since the 1950s*?”

Both men looked gobsmacked. Devil-ge let out a low whistle, somewhat impressed. “You remember that , but you can’t even recall our vows. Must be one hell of a trip you’re on.”

“We managed to make… special concessions regarding that.” The brunette explained, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. The other man sniggered under his breath, looking very much like a cat who got the cream. 

Or two whole bowls of cream, apparently.

“I don’t get it!” Wei Ying whined. He was just about ready to flop back down on the bed and give up. His mind was too hazy for this and they’re both talking in riddles!

“Let’s not get into something that complex. Simpler topics will do. How much do you remember?” The brunette prodded delicately. 

Wei Ying’s face turned blank for a moment.

He then subsequently burst into tears. Loud, body-wracking sobs that left both his husbands gaping at the sudden mood shift. 

“I don’t know! I don’t know! I really don’t know! I must be the worst husband in existence…” Wei Ying whimpered pathetically. 

“Now why would you say such a thing..?” The brunette softly asked, cupping the weeping dolt’s face and wiping away the tears with the pads of his thumbs. Wei Ying felt a warm hand running up and down his arm in assurance. His other husband was perched on the hospital bed, trying to get him to calm down as well. Turning back to the brunette, he instinctively nuzzled against the heated palms, sniffling.

He’s winding down. Good. 

Doctor Wen would murder them if he popped a stitch…

“I don’t remember you…. Don't even know what your names are. Is this permanent? Was it a brain surgery? Am I missing sections of my brain? Can I get them back, please? I wanna remember you both.”

His husbands had to either bite their bottom lip or the inside of their cheek to stop themselves from smiling at the river of nonsense flowing out of their blubbering dummy.

“You had an appendectomy , A-Ying. Your brain’s fine. Mostly. The anesthesia just hasn’t worn off yet.” 

“Your appendix ruptured in the middle of the night, Ying’er. We rushed you to Rìchū* Hospital as fast as we could. Doctor Qing was the one who operated on you.”

“Oh,” Wei Ying replied with eloquence fit for the king of heaven, as if that made all the sense in the world.

It didn’t. 

“Did that help jog your memory, Ying’er?”

“Nope! Still can’t remember!” The poor Angel looked like he was seconds away from facepalming again. Devil-ge reached over Wei Ying and massaged the brunette’s shoulder in sympathy, lips pursed tightly to prevent another guffaw from tumbling out.

“Alright. That’s fine. Why don’t we start with our names? Can you recall anything?”

A head shake.

“Do you need a hint?”

An immediate nod that was quickly followed by a snivel.

“You have a tendency to overuse the phrase ‘thank you’ whenever you get ridiculously affectionate with me.” ‘Which is often.’ was left unsaid.

“Xiexie*...Xie…” His hands itched from how hard he was gripping the scratchy duvet, nose scrunching up cutely.

Just for a moment, the brain-fog cleared and a grin, as radiant as the sun, overtook Wei Ying’s face.

“Lian’er!” He beamed so brightly that Xie Lian couldn’t help but smile back.

“En.”

“Lian’er! Lian’er!” He called out gleefully, elated beyond words to have that beloved nickname roll off his tongue again, clutching the other man’s sleeves in his delight. 

“I’m here! I’m here!” Xie Lian chuckled, glad to see Wei Ying cheer up again.

Moonstone eyes took their time carefully exploring the face of this Ang– husband of his, re-etching each feature into his memory so that even if Wei Ying forgot again, he’ll still dream about his Lian’er whenever he’s aimlessly drifting in the ocean of his subconscious. 

His gaze was eventually pulled to that bolt of red cutting through wheat-brown strands. 

Wei Ying extended a hand, fingers unfurling, carefully wrapping them around the silk as he let out a soft gasp.

“Mama’s ribbon…” He mumbled, delicately rubbing his thumb against the treasured item. 

“A-ah…You asked me to keep it safe.”

A distinct echo finally resounded in his hazy mind.

“That’s right..! I gave it to you right as I was being rolled into the operating room. You were so worried…”

Brow furrowed, silver orbs glazed over as he stared off in the distance. Wei Ying was so lost in his recollection, he didn’t even register those gentle hands that were cradling his face had now drifted down to his shoulders, clutching the fabric of his hospital gown in a white-knuckled grip, trembling.

Like Wei Ying was going to crumble into dust if he let go for even a second.

((It was hellish. Those minutes of pure terror felt as if they were stretched out into an eternity. One moment, Xie Lian was asleep in bed, cuddled close to his husbands, the next he was forcefully wrenched awake.

Wei Ying had rolled off the edge, the deafening thud when he hit the floor was akin to a bucket of ice-cold water being dumped on him, Ying’er’s face twisted in pain while he bawled in agony, as if a hot knife was repeatedly stabbing and twisting into his side and then those gods’ awful wretches were ripping out of his throat until he vomited all over the bedroom carpet.

They had to roll him on his side so he didn’t choke, even though they were afraid to touch him on the likelihood they made it worse. San Lang would soon shove a fabric into Wei Ying’s mouth so that he didn’t bite his own tongue off from how excruciating the pain was. 

Neither of them could’ve believed that they missed all the signs. 

Exam season was around the corner, Wei Ying had been busy organising revision sessions and grading mock tests for his students, frustrations and nervous breakdowns were sky-high. Wei Ying had been complaining of back pains and a lack of appetite as of late. Off-handedly mentioning there was an odd ache on the side of his stomach before shrugging and chalking it up to stress at work. 

Whenever Xie Lian or San Lang expressed concern over his health, Wei Ying would just wave them off and say it was probably the students’ stress rubbing off on him.

How careless they had been…

Even after being injected with the numbing medicine, through the descending haze, Ying’er still tried to put them at ease.

“Aiyah..What’s with that face, Lian’er? You’re not a God, ya know! You couldn't have possibly known! Here. Can you hold onto this for me? Just until they sew me back up?”

“Oi, gege! Make sure he doesn’t beat himself up too much while I’m knocked out! That goes for you too! I’ll deal with you after I come back~ You know I can only take care of your needs one at a time. Heh…” ))

The brunette was brought back to the present when he felt another hand gently loosening his own grip from Wei Ying’s shoulders.

He met San Lang’s mismatched gaze as he leisurely entwined their fingers, planting a lingering kiss on the back of Xie Lian’s hand, sanguine eye flashing with understanding, 

Bit by bit, Xie Lian’s tensed frame relaxed, the blooming heat from where San Lang’s lips connected to his skin a soothing balm to his soul. Xie Lian started rapidly blinking away the mist building up in his eyes. 

With one final squeeze, San Lang turned his attention back on their dazed husband.

“A-Ying,” He called out, smoothly steering the other clear off memory lane. Once he was sure he had Wei Ying’s attention, he allowed a lazy smile to take over his lips and continued, “You don’t usually stop at ‘thank you’ when it comes to gege. If I recall, you arranged a whole poem to ‘properly express your unending gratitude’ for him.” He playfully taps his chin, acting as if he were in deep thought. Ying’er’s gaze was almost as focused as a cat’s, ready to pounce at any second. Xie Lian felt the trepidation building up in his spine, honey-brown orbs widening in realisation. 

Oh no…

“Ah!” San Lang snapped his fingers, as if he were the one with the memory issue.

“I believe the poem goes something like: ‘Thank you for being breathed into existence’..” Wei Ying happily took the reins of that runaway bull.

“Thank you for constantly gracing us mortals

with your golden haloed presence. 

Thou graciousness knows no bounds

And though we ask too much of you 

You still allow us to worship your moun–”

“Okay! Okay! That’s enough! I don’t think he needs to recall that .” If Xie Lian was forced to listen to any more of that horrid ‘poem’, he might burst a vein from how much blood was rushing into his head! His former teachers would’ve died from sheer outrage before hearing it in its entirety!

“Whaaaaah..? But I worked so hard on it.” Wei Ying pouted, bottom lip jutted out. 

“Yeah, gege. You’re just going to discard all of A-Ying’s efforts?” San Lang snickered.

Xie Lian buried his face in his hands. 

Oh. What am I going to do with these two…?

“You pulled that exact face too! Back when we first met!” 

Xie Lian peeked between his fingers.

“You remember that...?”

“En!” Wei Ying exclaimed, looking so pleased with himself as he puffed out his chest. Xie Lian was reminded of a proud peacock showing off its bright feathers and almost laughed at the comparison. 

“You spilled coffee all over my suit!”

San Lang’s eyes brightened in interest. He never got to hear that story. Gege would often dodge the question and A-Ying would cheekily retort ‘I don’t kiss and tell!’ before sauntering off.

“Oh? Tell me more, A-Ying.”

Xie Lian winced. Heavens….please, no.

“I was running late to an interview and stopped at a cafe for a quick breakfast–” 

“I wouldn't call a large cup of coffee with cream and a dozen teaspoons of sugar ‘breakfast’, Ying’er.” 

“You remember my order!” 

“Gege isn’t the one with holes in his memories, A-Ying.” Xie Lian lightly poked San Lang in the ribs for the tease. Someone has to jump in and defend their dearest idiot.

“Now, you’re just being a bully!” 

“Consider it payback for the cheating accusations.” 

“...Okay. That’s fair,” Wei Ying huffed before continuing “ Anyways, I had already ordered and was sitting at my table. The wait was a bit longer than I thought, but then this ray of sunshine walked in and whatever pre-interview jitters I had just seemed to melt away~”

That was awfully sweet. But Wei Ying either couldn’t remember or simply neglected to mention that Xie Lian was so busy taking other customers’ orders and running himself ragged that it took a long time for him to notice Wei Ying’s coffee sitting on the counter, ready to be served.

“Hmm..Can’t really remember how , maybe it was a rogue juice puddle or the floor had a bone to pick that day, but Lian’er slipped. I watched as the mug did an impressive quadruple somersault in slow-motion –without spilling a single drop, mind you!– before finally giving me a surprise caffeine shower-”

“Were you alright?” San Lang cut in, concerned.

“En! The coffee was lukewarm at best.”

And of that, Xie Lian was relieved of his own forgetfulness.

He never would’ve forgiven himself if he’d injured Wei Ying or, Heaven forbid, left him with a burn scar.

“Besides, the tea Madame would occasionally toss at me was much hotter than that. I could’ve handled it.” Their precious, moronic, dummy of a husband bulldozed ahead. Completely oblivious to both his spouses tensing at the mention of that woman.

“Even in this state, he still remembers that shriveled-up, useless clump of cells*…” San Lang muttered darkly under his breath, forever upset that he lost his chance to drag the spiteful cow to court for all she did to A-Ying before she dropped dead.

Xie Lian squeezed San Lang’s hand in solidarity, too polite to add his own insults for the late Jiang Matriarch. 

“Lian’er was so apologetic about it! Flustered and blushing like a tomato, it was adorable! He even offered to buy me another coffee and pay for the dry cleaning. I really wanted to ask him to add me on his WeChat*, but figured it wasn’t the best time.” Wei Ying giggled, pulling both men out of their gloomy thoughts.

“I had the morning shift that day. Setting up the tables and mopping the floor completely fell on me.” Xie Lian sheepishly filled in the gaps for San Lang. “I was in such a rush to get things done before opening that I must’ve left a wet spot.” 

“You were probably sleep-deprived. Don’t be so hard on yourself, gege. These kinds of accidents happen all the time.”

“He’s right! It’s the employer’s fault for demanding so much of you in the early morning!”

These two…ever so ready to defend him, even from his own self-deprecating thoughts. 

Xie Lian didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

“The next time we -literally- bumped into each other, I was out for a morning jog. I think Lian’er was working as a delivery man at the time? He had a crate full of apples and was in a hurry..”

Xie Lian cringed at the memory. 

His scooter had broken down halfway through the journey. He tried hoofing it the rest of the way lest he get his second warning for being late, but it ended in an impromptu collision with the silver-eyed beauty.

Needless to say, all the apples ended up squished and bruised on the sidewalk…before rolling right into traffic and puréed all over the street.

Wei Ying ended up buying another crate from the nearest market and offering it to the soon-to-be ex-delivery man. Just to help him out, no strings attached. Xie Lian had never wanted to tackle a stranger into a hug so badly than in that moment. And one that he already screwed over before!

(Ying’er also conveniently left out the fact that he didn’t make it past the initial interview that day, on account of his suit being riddled with coffee stains.)

“It was a company-issued scooter, yes? Did they not do any checkups? What were your former bosses thinking, gege?”

“En! How reckless of them! Likely pinned all the blame on Lian’er for their faulty equipment!” 

The rose-tinted glasses on these two!!

“Missed my second chance to get Mr. Sunshine’s contact info.” Wei Ying pouted before continuing, “Now, the third time we ran into each other was in a car accident.” 

At San Lang’s alarmed look, Wei Ying hurried to say:

“Nothing serious! Just a broken tail light!” He then paused, a look of befuddlement and distaste flashing across his face. 

“I think Lian’er was learning how to drive? There was a stuck-up looking guy next to him shouting instructions. He sounded like a cat that got its tail stepped on.” 

“Mu Qing.” Xie Lian filled in. San Lang snorted.

“Apt description. Obnoxious pretty boy.” He mumbled under his breath, Xie Lian poked his other husband in the ribs in silent reprimand. 

“He was probably distracting you while your eyes were on the road, gege.” 

“Yes! That’s what it looked like to me too.” Wei Ying nodded sagely. 

Well, if Xie Lian ever committed vehicular man-slaughter in the future, he’d know who to call and defend him.

Who needs a good lawyer when you have two overprotective husbands that can vehemently deny reality for you?

“Sweet Lian’er would later take me to a mechanic to fix up my car, free of charge!”

How silly. Xie Lian would’ve done it regardless of whether he could afford it or not. It was common decency.

That being said, he thanked his lucky stars that Feng Xin took on such a thankless profession and that he had a ‘friend’s discount’. If he had to pay with his meager salary, Xie Lian would likely still be in debt to this day.

“And I finally got his phone number after all that. Completely worth the hassle!” Wei Ying boasted. San Lang gave him a belated congratulatory high-five, Xie Lian buried his burning face in his hands, silently praying to just dissolve into mist already, please and thank you. 

“I asked Lian’er to move in with me soon after.” Wei Ying blathered on, smiling dopily at the memory. It had taken several minutes for Xie Lian to stop sputtering before finally giving Wei Ying a proper answer. 

San Lang raised an inquisitive brow.

“I think you missed a couple of steps there, A-Ying. That seems awfully forward, even for you.”

“Really? I thought it was fine. Xuanxuan and I were struggling with rent and getting a new roommate seemed like the perfect solution at the time. I also didn’t wanna see Lian’er get kicked out of the city*. Errr..Devil-ge? What’s wrong?” 

Curious, Xie Lian unburied his face from the refuge of his hands and glanced at San Lang, blinking owlishly. 

Their other husband was sulking. Xie Lian was reminded of a fox’s ears lowered in petulance. He half expected the other to start pawing at the ground in agitation.

“You remember that glutton’s name, but you can’t even remember what you used to call me...?” San Lang groused, turning his head away from Ying’er and glaring at the wall.

Wei Ying’s eyes got so comically wide they looked like they were about to pop out of his head. He started flailing, arms flapping about like a panicking butterfly.

“Of course I remember!! Ahh...uhh... sweetheart? Darling? Lao Gong*...?” 

It was like watching a swaying drunkard throw darts at the board. Not caring how completely off the mark he was, if Wei Ying just kept at it blindly he might finally hit the bull’s eye.   

The more guesses he got wrong, the more visibly upset San Lang got. Xie Lian could practically see the black cloud churning above his husband’s head. 

“Da-ge...?” Wei Ying finished off the hurried, jumbled-up list, voice petering out at the end. 

San Lang let out a long, melodramatic sigh and started fiddling with his wedding ring. His inky locks curtained around his face, theatrically covering his features until he resembled a brooding king.

Xie Lian didn’t know if he should start laughing, provide the two with some reassurance or tell his ridiculous husbands to knock it off.

Instead, he gently cleared his throat to catch Ying’er’s attention. Once those silver orbs were on him, Xie Lian softly tapped at the red camellia design on Wei Ying’s own wedding ring.

While looking at the crystal flower, something wriggled in the back of Wei Ying’s mind, like an upturned turtle desperately thrashing its limbs, trying to find some momentum to get back on its feet.

((“Hellooooo~ I know you’re loaded and all, but can I offer a penny for your thoughts?”

That earned him a huff-laugh in response.

“Why choose the camellia flower for me? Do you know what it means, A-Ying?”

“Endless passion, deep desires, great resilience…those seem fitting, no?”

“In Rìběn*, it also symbolises noble death. Don’t you think that’s too high of a praise for someone like me?”

“Well… those who died honorably did so for a cause they believed in, right? Wouldn’t that just mean that you're a devoted fighter? Huahua…our most passionate, stubborn and devoted husband. Haha…))

“Huahua..Hua-ge..” Wei Ying mumbled under his breath, squinting and sucking his bottom lip between his teeth, waiting for something to just click already!

Moonstone eyes snapped wide in remembrance.

“Gege!!” Wei Ying exclaimed, reaching out for the other man’s hand, clasping it between his own.

“Hn. Took you long enough.” Hua Cheng scoffed, “I wonder if you even remember my real name. Or are you just guessing again?”

“Don’t be like that, gege~ ” Wei Ying whined, rubbing the trapped hand against his cheek like a needy kitten. 

Hua Cheng still refused to look at him, Wei Ying wailed, about to tear up again. Xie Lian was honest-to-gods contemplating if he should intervene, stay where he is or just leave and come back when they’re both done with their little ‘lover’s quarrel’. 

“ Hua Cheng!!! Your name is Hua Cheng! But I only call you that whenever I’m mad!” Wei Ying lumbered ahead, desperate for his other husband to just look him in the eye already!  “Or whenever I’m holding onto Lian’er for dear life while you drill me into the mattress-” 

Xie Lian went into a sudden coughing fit, ears blazing, while San Lang finally cracked, unable to keep the childish act up any longer.

As soon as he saw that smile breakout over Hua Cheng’s face, Wei Ying snapped at the bait and asked:

“Am I forgiven now, gege?”

Hua Cheng tilted his head to the side, lips pursed and features twisted in mock consideration.

“Hmm...Tell me what you remember of our first meeting and I might forgive you.”

“We met at a casino!” Wei Ying blurted, as eager to get back into Hua Cheng’s ‘good graces’ as a fox chasing after a rabbit. 

Upon Hua Cheng’s approving nod, Wei Ying continued:

“Xuanxuan-” Once he saw that small scowl, Wei Ying was quick to course correct, “I-I mean my roommate called. Said he needed help warding off some guy who kept shaking him down for money. I thought it was our stingy landlord or a loan shark. He gave me some vague directions and I found myself in a shady underground gambling den.” Wei Ying paused, brow crinkling. 

“It wasn’t ‘shady’.” Hua Cheng muttered, pride slightly wounded.

“Sure~ And the mob ties are just a figment of my imagination.” Wei Ying shot back sarcastically. Before Hua Cheng had a chance to retort, A-Ying continued: 

“Never took that grouch for a high roller. He just didn’t seem the type.” He commented offhandedly. 

Hua Cheng snorted and rolled his eyes heavenward. 

“Don’t let his deadpan expressions and monosyllabic conversation skills fool you. He’s a fucking trainwreck with a whirlpool of problems. I’m surprised he didn’t drag you down with him.” 

“San Lang.” Xie Lian scolded, although it was half-hearted at best.

“Gege, be nice!” Wei Ying grumbled, making a feeble attempt to defend his ex-roommate/current friend. 

“Anyways...” He dramatically puffed out his cheeks as he sighed, “Xua- my roommate instructed me to park the car nearby and leave it unlocked. I was supposed to distract the moneylender while he sneaks off to safety.”

“Hmm. And remind me again, how did you go about ‘distracting’ me?”

“I decided to flirt with you using shitty pick-up lines.” Wei Ying shrugged without an ounce of shame. “To be fair, I just thought you were a really well-dressed goon sent out to harass my friend. Didn’t think you were the boss himself.”

That got Hua Cheng to chuckle under his breath. Xie Lian shook his head, not surprised in the least. 

Oh, to be a fly on the wall while that whole disaster went down…

Suddenly, Wei Ying perked up, a grin splitting his face. Both his husbands could almost see the light bulb going off above his head.

“Gege! I actually remember some of the flirty lines I threw at you that night!”

“This’ll be good.” Hua Cheng whispered in Xie Lian’s ear, who shot him a questioning look. San Lang only gave him a smirk in reply before turning back to Wei Ying, mismatched eyes gleaming expectantly. 

“Go on.” He goaded. 

“Do you believe in luck? ‘Cause I think I’ve just hit the jackpot tonight!”

Ah, that doesn’t sound so bad. Xie Lian mentally let out a relieved sigh.

“Hn. That’s a bit PG for your tastes, A-Ying. You can do better.”

Xie Lian could feel a sweatdrop forming, apprehension colouring his features. 

Wei Ying’s face scrunched up into a scowl before lifting up his chin at the challenge. He started firing off:

“Dang, handsome! Are you a slot machine? Because I’d love to pull your lever~”

“Weak. Got any more?”

“Hey, gorgeous. Mind if I spin your roulette wheel?”

“Depends. Do your hands know any other ‘wheel’ aside from your own?”

“Apart from being sexy, how are you at blowing dice?”

“Hmm. Normally it’s either you or gege who do the blowing, but I can be generous from time to time.” Hua Cheng commented nonchalantly, Xie Lian started letting out the equivalent of dying animal noises, eyes bugging out of his skull. 

Someone please give him a cold glass of water, this chaste flower is about to pass out.

“Why you gotta be so tough on me, gege?! Can’t you just let me win?!” Wei Ying whinged, close to tearing up in frustration at this point.

“What kind of self-respecting dealer would I be if I ‘let’ others win? Besides, I thought A-Ying likes it when I’m tough on him.” Hua Cheng practically purred.

This arrogant red-eyed bastard...

“Not all the time! Gege should learn to be more gentle!” 

“Stop...!” Xie Lian croaked out, ready to fold into himself. He really couldn’t take any more of this.

These two will be the death of him, he swears on his mother’s grave.

“En? What’s wrong, Lian’er?”

“Perhaps he wants some attention? It’s been a minute since you’ve flirted with him.” Hua Cheng proposed with a shit-eating grin.

“San Lang!!”

“Would Lian’er like to hear some specialised pick-up lines too?”

“Th-there’s really no need-!”

“Gege’s a dance teacher. Can you come up with any good lines for him, A-Ying?”

“Excuse me, sir. Do you believe in love at first dance or should I twirl by again?” 

Well, that was terribly corny. But thankfully innocent, all things considered.

“I wasn’t religious before, but dancing with you may have just turned me into a believer.”

That did fit with tonight’s angel/devil theme, didn’t it?

Xie Lian was still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Can we take this dance off the floor and back to your place?” 

Aaaannndd there it was.

“What a dazzling waltz! Any chance we could do the devil’s tango in the backroo-?”

“Alright! I think that’s enough for tonight!” Xie Lian would’ve very much loved to facepalm again, but he feared that his hands might catch fire judging by how heated his cheeks were. San Lang was too busy cackling at his expense, but someone needed to remind Wei Ying that he was still recovering.

“I think it’s past time for you to go to sleep, Wei Ying.”

“Awww! But I’m not tired!” His argument was instantly refuted after letting out a yawn which he couldn’t suppress. 

“Yes, you are. We agreed to ten minutes and it’s been half an hour. You need rest.”

Wei Ying opened his mouth, ready to protest some more when he felt warm lips, soft as silk, press against his temple in a languid kiss.

“If you listen to gege, I promise that I’ll be nicer to you when you wake up.” Hua Cheng tenderly murmured against the crown of Wei Ying’s head, an undercurrent of fondness within his coaxing tone.

Wei Ying froze, mouth gaping like a fish, opening and closing, yet failing to get a word out. 

Xie Lian went for the finishing blow.

“Please, Ying’er..? Won’t you do it for me?” He stared imploringly at Wei Ying all doe-eyed, voice dripping like sweet nectar. Their dear moron wasn’t the only crafty one here. 

The poor imbecile never stood a chance.

“Oh..! Fine! I was feeling a bit sleepy anyway.” He huffed, just a tad bit crabby. Hua Cheng and Xie Lian traded victorious smiles.

They both gingerly guided Wei Ying to lie back down properly. Xie Lian pulled out a chair and scooted it close to the hospital bed before gingerly laying his head against Wei Ying’s chest. Knowing that the added weight will bring his husband some comfort while trying to sleep in a strange place. Hua Cheng carefully slid a hand beneath Wei Ying’s head, almost cradling it as he massaged the sensitive scalp and nape, taking extra care not to let the unbrushed locks tangle around his fingers.

For his part, Wei Ying had practically turned into putty under their tender ministrations. Mind already sinking back to unconsciousness, barely aware of what he was mumbling:

“I must be the luckiest bastard in the world…” Wei Ying sighed, “...thank you for choosing me to be your husband…”

Other way around, idiot.

Epilogue:

Wei Ying was thoroughly convinced that he was a mass murderer in a past life.

He genuinely can’t think of any other reason as to why he was given such cruel and unjust punishment.

It had only been a couple of days since his surgery, Wei Ying was expected to get discharged soon and go back to the comforting nest that was his home any day now~

Qing-jie had already given him an hour-long lecture over what he should and (mostly) shouldn’t do for a smooth recovery process. 

Take a two week leave from work, at the least. Do not go back to work until you feel less fatigued and your pain levels have gone down a bit.

Do not consume alcohol or processed foods. No red meat or anything that contains high levels of fat and/or sugar.

Do not do anything physically strenuous or put strain on the body for the next six weeks.

On and on she went, but Wei Ying could sum it up to this:

He was expected to flop around his bed like a useless fish with no cakes or any of his emergency snacks, none of jiejie’s decadent pork lotus soup, none of his favourite spicy dishes, no wine to numb the pain and, the most egregious of them all, no sex.

For the next month and a half.

The horror.

How can the Heavens bless him with two drop dead gorgeous husbands and expect Wei Ying to not commit to his marital duties?! What kind of sick joke is that?!!

Xie Lian was close to tears at this point. But for a completely different reason.

“Wei Ying…” He begged, “Can you please just come out from under there already?”

The denial was instant.

“No.” 

“But you need to eat!”

“I’m not having any more of that sludge!” The protest would’ve held a lot more weight if it wasn’t muffled and had come out of a tightly wrapped blanket roll.

There was not even a lock of hair sticking out of that man-sized burrito. To Xie Lian, his brat-of-a-husband resembled an angry slug. 

“It’s congee and it’s good for your health.”

“Congee or broth? Broth or congee? What’s the difference?! They’re all bland! Either put some chili oil in it or give it to a pack of rabbits!” 

“....”

Why did San Lang have to leave him at a time like this?!

Xie Lian had no other choice, but to pull out his trump card. 

“If you come out from under there, I can mix it with some pork floss.*”

A moonstone eye peeked through the darkness.

“Really…?”

“Yes.” Xie Lian breathed out a sigh of relief. Finally, some progress.

The rest of Wei Ying’s head poked out of the cocoon. Rat-nest-looking hair going in all directions.

“Good. Now, sit up properly while I reheat this.”

When Hua Cheng eventually reentered the picture, it was to a satisfied Wei Ying scarfing down the last remnants of his congee and an exasperated Xie Lian sitting by his bed, peeling an apple, watching their wayward patient out of the corner of his eye. 

Both Hua Cheng and Xie Lian did everything they could to make Wei Ying as comfortable as possible while he was stuck in that soulless room. The ward was periodically sprinced with some lemon and pine air freshener to combat the god awful hospital smell. An air humidifier sat next to Wei Ying at his bedside to keep his sinuses clear while he slept. They ran back and forth to their home multiple times to get Wei Ying’s favourite blankets and pillows, most of which were either crocheted by Xie Lian or Jiang Yanli. There was very little space left on the window sill on account of all the flower bouquets perched on the ledge, along with a pile of fruit baskets and knicknacks sitting at the foot of the hospital bed, all thanks to a bunch of friends, co-workers and groups of students stopping by, offering their well-wishes and recovery gifts to their dearest dummy. 

Wei Ying was incredibly touched by the level of thoughtfulness and care that he was bombarded with these last couple of days that he may or may not have sobbed a few times. 

That didn’t stop him from throwing his weight around whenever Doctor Qing’s restrictions got too suffocating, though.

(He’ll make it up to his husbands once he’s done healing, Wei Ying swears. All ten fingers crossed!)

“Gege!” Wei Ying eagerly called out as the taller man entered, “Did you get the- what the hell is in that bag?”

Xie Lian’s thoughts exactly. Hua Cheng was carrying a duffel bag that wasn’t even zipped all the way. There were a bunch of odd lumps that appeared to be squirming around through the fabric.

Just as when San Lang opened his mouth, ready to reply, one of the lumps shot out through the opening. 

A scraggly-looking shadow bolted across the room before dive-bombing right into Wei Ying’s lap. Enthusiastically kneading the shocked man’s chest, careful not to accidentally hurt one of its favourite owner’s with its claws. 

“E-Ming?!” Wei Ying exclaimed, jaw dropped.

“Murr.” Their smug, one-eyed cat chirped. Affectionately rubbing its face against Wei Ying’s chin.

Hua Cheng went over and settled the bag on Wei Ying’s bed. A white-haired fur ball popped out.

“Ruoye!” 

The cat purred as it glided its way towards the sitting man, joining E-Ming in the biscuit-making session.

Another black-haired feline leapt out of its prison. This time sauntering right into an aghast Xie Lian’s lap. Wei Ying let out a dramatic gasp.

“Betrayal! Is this how you repay me for raising you, Chenqing?! You won’t even check on your sick papa?!” 

Chenqing only gave its wailing owner a passing glance, emerald eyes glinting mischievously as it lay its head down on Lian’er’s knee, ready to take a nap.

There was a ginger tail poking out of the mostly empty duffel bag, rapidly wriggling around in the air, the tail’s owner clearly refusing to come out.

The poor thing never could handle unfamiliar places. Yet it still didn’t want to be left behind.

“Suibian! I can see you! We all can see you! Come here, you little coward!” 

That got him a guttural yowl in protest.

“What ungrateful children I’ve raised!” Wei Ying squawked, petting Ruoye and E-Ming to sooth his indignation.

“San Lang…” Xie Lian started, trying to keep his tone patient, “Just how did you convince the hospital staff to allow our cats in…?” 

Hua Cheng let out a small laugh, although it sounded forced to Xie Lian’s ears. The taller man was lightly tapping at the bag, gently urging the fussy tabby to leave its refuge. 

“I may or may not have promised them that I’ll donate to the hospital. Should be enough to open a new wing.” He sheepishly admitted. 

“Probably used his mob ties to intimidate everyone into silence.” Wei Ying sniggered. Hua Cheng merely sighed. He didn’t have enough energy to refute the notion and instead settled for flicking the dumbass on the forehead.

“Hey! I’m still recovering here! Lian’er, scold him for me!”

Xie Lian didn’t know if he should laugh or cry. Both seemed appropriate in this case.

He decided to just admit defeat and give Chenqing the head-scritches that it was silently demanding.

The storm has passed. Their family was reunited, safe and healthy. 

That’s all any of them could really ask for.

End.

Important Author's Notes for Asterisks:

1. The first ban of polygamous marriages in China was introduced in around 1950. This law would be updated in later years. As for how Hua Cheng managed it… I dunno *shrug*. Just imagine he used his mob influence or money laundering schemes which he TOTALLY doesn’t do in this verse!!

2. The ‘chateau smasher’ line was borrowed from Dustin Poynter, also known as ‘Red Flag Guy’ on YouTube.

3. Rìchū: Pinyin for ‘sunrise’.

4. Xiexie translates to ‘thank you’.

5. The ‘clump of cells’ line was borrowed from true-crime podcaster and all-around cinnamon roll, Stephanie Soo.

6. WeChat is essentially the WhatsApp of China, only it has more mini programs that allows users to shop online, access in app tools, as well as to send money and pay through it.

7. Judging from what I’ve heard from other people online, Chinese citizens moving into different Chinese cities is the equivalent to the tedious visa process of moving to a different country. Unless they find suitable work that can allow them to stay in that city for a long period of time, then they’ll have to move back to their hometowns. Although, it’s been said that this issue has started improving amongst young adults.

8. Lao Gong: Pinyin for ‘husband’.

9. Rìběn: Pinyin for ‘Japan’.

10. The ‘pork floss’ line was inspired by a similar scene in the C-Drama ‘Rational Life’ where MC gets appendicitis. The love interest takes care of her and decides to spoil her by adding pork floss in her congee.

If there's any information provided here that was inaccurate and/or outdated, please let me know and I will make the necessary edits.

As for the medical inaccuracies here, please don't focus on it too much. Any attention on drama over reality is intentional, I tried not to make it TOO out of the realm of possibility, but obviously I'm no medical expert and since this is crack, it's not meant to be taken seriously.

I've most likely leaned more towards XieXian than HuaXian, buuuuuuttttt I think that's fair considering the amount of HuaXian fics I wrote. Also, XL deserves more love. Lol.

If ya liked the work, please leave a like/comment. That'll be very much appreciated!!

Many thanks for reading~

[the-blossica-fan]

Yo, guess who got 37 accidentally from a single ten pull?

In celebration, Actors AU!

37

finally worked up the courage to ask Sophia out on a date.

CONGRATULATIONS 🎉🎉🎉

My friend told me the same thing and I was like "goddamn luck be on your ass"

Didn't know if you wanted a short story but I tried ☝️

There is never a shortage of rumors in the set. Harmless, of course, but still funny and interesting, as well as a little informative.

It's not hard to assume that some would even know about the existence of such rumors, those with little interactions would naturally have a hard time learning or keeping up with the gossip, and those denser than a brick wall wouldn't even be aware of them.

During accidental meetings with an acquaintance, it's best to settle for a topic everyone is well aware of, gossip. Sitting outside of the place they hang out the most without any topic to share, what's more simple than gossiping for a moment?

If you know how to, that is.

Alma and Thirty-Seven had been sitting on a bench outside the set for more than ten minutes, one mindlessly playing with her hand, the other thinking deeply of a topic to start a conversation, the girl is a friend's daughter and friends with her own son, this awkward silence can't stay forever, can it?

A brilliant idea came to mind. Thirty-Seven must not be too different from her mother, they're just like each other, so, she must enjoy gossip too, right?

Right?

"Thirty-Seven, is it true that you have a crush on Sophia?" Alma attempted to start a conversation with Thirty-Seven, a poor subject to choose for a poor unsociable lady.

"WHAT?!" And the response received carried the expected shock from such a blunt question. "Who-- who told you that?! Was it Two hundred and ten? That bastard--"

"Uh, no" Alma shook her head, placing a firm hand on the girl's shoulder to prevent her from standing up. "It's actually quite a famous rumour, Seventy-Seven and Regulus told me they heard it from someone, who then heard it from someone, and so on"

Thirty-Seven's face grew redder the more details Alma offered, blue eyes searching for any kind of indication that this had been nothing more than a tasteless joke. Of course, Alma is nothing more than an honest woman, not a trace of a lie on her face. Such a thing running around, had she been so obvious that even this sheltered lady would know?

"Uhm, Miss Alma," The woman turned to Thirty-Seven with a curious glance, just like what Atticus would do. Like mother like son. "Do you think Sophia knows?"

"Yes, indeed" No hesitation in the woman's voice accompanied by a soft smile "she had been there during Seventy-Seven's explanation of the rumor"

Alma found herself confused once Thirty-Seven turned to her with wide eyes and a pale face. Whatever had been on her mind had been long forgotten, she could almost see betrayal in her eyes.

"Is there something wrong-- oh," Alma placed her hand on her shoulder, ashamed of her own naivety. Of course that would be her reaction, what a stupid question to ask! "I apologize, perhaps I shouldn't have told you that" or she should have? What a dilemma.

"Sophia knows?! But-- Where is my mother at this moment?" Thirty-Seven stood up in a hurry, moments before realization could settle in completely.

"I saw her moments ago, let me guide the way there" The whole time Alma tried to calm down Thirty-Seven, even more thoughts appeared in her mind.

They stood from that small bench, walking towards the last place Alma swore she had seen Seventy-Seven, that cunning lady, always scheming with such an angelic face... Mm, that sounded very different on paper.

Thirty-Seven placed a hand on her chin, deep in thought like she usually would during a mathematical problem, but this is a real life problem! A rumor that could ruin her relationship!

But, that's merely a rumor, isn't it? Sophia would not believe such a baseless rumor, this is Sophia we're talking about! But, if she did, how would she react? What if she found it disgusting? What if she didn't want them to be friends anymore? What if she breaks all ties with her because of this?!

"Are you overthinking?" Thirty-Seven's thoughts are broken by the woman's soft voice, her own confused and surprised face must have answered that question. "Atticus has that same face when he's in deep thought, don't worry, you can share your thoughts with me"

As far as she knows, Alma is a more reliable woman than her own mother. This betrayal being the best example. Though a bit sheltered and socially awkward, the woman, had never let her down even once! Unlike her mother, what a traitor.

"What if Sophia ends her friendship with me over this? I have heard so many takes of friendships breaking because of these kinds of rumors..."

Alma sighs, placing a comforting hand on Thirty-Seven's shoulder, squeezing slightly. "It's obvious it's not just a rumor, dear" And the girl looks away, red-faced. "But do you really think Sophia would leave you behind over such a simple thing?"

Thirty-Seven shakes her head slowly, making Alma laugh amusedly.

"Even if she didn't return your feelings," Which I doubt "she wouldn't dream of leaving you behind over such a simple deal, you know this better than anyone, dear"

Thirty-Seven has no response to this, after all, Alma is right. Sophia has been there through thick and thin, despite everything, so why would she leave over such a rumor? Thirty-Seven looks up to Alma, a pleading gaze in her beautiful blue eyes.

"Miss Alma, would you be my mother?"

"That holds some implications, so no"

It proved hard to find Seventy-Seven, the woman could never stay in one place for a long time, however, they did find an even more knowledgeable guide. Well, he just finished talking with the woman they've been looking for, so he had fresher information on her whereabouts.

"Let me see if I understood this correctly," Atticus led the way, his gaze resolute, but even someone like him could be curious over such an absurd discourse. "Your mother, Miss Seventy-Seven, shared with Sophia--"

"And Miss Alma!"

"...And my mother, that you have a crush on Sophia, am I correct?"

"As always, Atticus!"

"What a funny discussion"

Atticus' reactions are hard to discern, but Thirty-Seven has gotten used to his and his mother's ways to show emotions. Subtle, but meaningful, hiding behind their words and careless actions.

"Are you sure this is the way, Atticus?" Alma walked by his side, their blond head so similar one could almost confuse one with the other, that is if you didn't look at their faces.

"Of course, mother, I heard she would speak with Miss Greta for a while" Atticus sneered "A one-sided conversation that would last as long as Miss Greta's patience, nothing."

"Hey! My mother is not that annoying, I'm sure Greta would hold a longer conversation than last time!"

The mother and son turned to each other, sharing silent conversation with their eyes before turning back to Thirty-Seven.

Oh she doesn't know.

"Mm, look, she's there" Atticus decided to smartly ignore the response, pointing instead at the gorgeous woman with blue hair excitedly talking to the most tired-looking woman on the set.

"Mother!"

Thirty-Seven ran all the way to her mother, leaving behind her guides that accompanied her all the way without a single goodbye or thank you. Terrible, but expected from Thirty-Seven.

"Rude..."

"...As expected of Seventy-Seven's daughter"

"Ah? Oh! Thirty-Seven, darling, what a surprise seeing you here!" Seventy-Seven's attention turned to her daughter running towards her. God has blessed Greta.

"Mother! I've been looking for you for a while! I need to speak with you!" Thirty-Seven grabbed both of her mother's arms, holding her in place desperately, and turned to the tired woman by their side. "Uh, privately, if that's alright with you, Miss Greta"

The woman shook her head, relieved to have such a distraction from Seventy-Seven's annoying words. "It's more than alright, thank you, Thirty-Seven" and so, she parted ways, quickly.

Now that it's just mother and daughter, Thirty-Seven has enough freedom to stare at her mother with a betrayed gaze, winning an amused but confused grin from the older woman.

"Mother, is it true you told Sophia about my crush on her?!"

Seventy-Seven blinked once before laughing, anyone would have been deceived, but not Thirty-Seven. She's lived sixteen years with her, she knows her mother.

"Of course not! What sort of things go through your brain, dear?"

"Miss Alma told me so!"

Seventy-Seven gasped, her gaze now similar to her daughter's. "That traitor!"

"You're the traitor!"

Such an argument technically made sense, so Seventy-Seven had to give in. She sighed, easing her daughter's grip with her hands slowly.

"Listen, you aren't exactly the most discreet one, dear" As if that answer would love everything "But I didn't tell her because I could, she asked and I couldn't say no! What a darling she is, you should definitely ask her out"

This time, it's Thirty-Seven's turn to look confused and tired. Too much time around Greta can do that to you. "She asked?"

"Indeed! She came to me since you were hard to find, a couple days ago if I remember correctly, and asked me bluntly if you had a crush on her" Seventy-Seven nodded at the memory, as if approving of something "She's smarter than I thought, but you're also not that discreet, I still have to give her points for asking"

"A couple days ago?!"

"Are you just going to repeat what I'm saying? I thought you'd ask more important things!"

Thirty-Seven let go of her mother, covering her face with her hands. Sophia and her just talked yesterday like normal, this morning Sophia looked so normal, not like she had discovered Thirty-Seven's raging crush on her.

"What do I do now???" If she had thought about it more deeply, she would have realized that Sophia didn't even mind or care, but of course she didn't.

"How about you ask her out on a date? I doubt she'd say no, and you have nothing to lose!"

"My friendship??"

"Who cares about being friends?" Perhaps it's a curse of their family, but comforting is not their forte, especially in these cases. "Okay, that sounds horrible"

Perhaps she realized so because of Thirty-Seven's petrified face or because finally she had used emotions and reactions.

"Listen, dear, I know this must sound horrible, but if she already knows, isn't it more painful to leave it as it is? A question in her mind that would plague her forever? She's waiting for your answer, dear, won't you give it to her?"

Sometimes, Seventy-Seven proved herself to be a decent mother, someone that you could trust with your problems, that would give you advice with a soft smile on her face and a warm gaze in her soft eyes. Perhaps that is why she's so adored by many.

"...Miss Alma is better at comforting than you"

"I know, isn't that ho--"

"But, thank you, mother" A smart interruption before things got off the rails, Thirty-Seven looked into her mother's eyes, determined, as always. "I'm going to talk to Sophia and clear this misunderstanding!"

"Hah, no" Seventy-Seven gave a well deserved slap to the back of her stupid daughter's head, affectionately. "You're going to build up the courage to tell her your feelings, preferably now, as soon as possible"

"But--but why?!"

"I'm tired of hearing you fawning over your best friend, I want to hear you talk about your girlfriend for once"

Ah, indeed, what a weird conversation, but it seems that only those two understand each other. Thirty-Seven nodded her head, having made up her mind after her mother's nonsensical cheerful words.

"Alright, wish me luck!" And she ran to Sophia's direction, forgetting that she doesn't know where she is. "Wait-- Where is Sophia?"

"...You don't know?"

"..."

"Her room, darling, she's in her room"

"Thank you, mother!" She ran again, this time in the opposite direction, to Sophia's room somewhere in the building.

Seventy-Seven watched her go with a proud smile on her face "I love spreading misinformation, good luck dear!"

What a tiring journey, Thirty-Seven took a moment to catch her breath before knocking on Sophia's door. The final destination to this adventure, and the only place where she had felt the more nervous.

Her heartbeat accelerated, her hands sweaty and her legs shaking, all signs of being nervous-- or running all the way here, as Thirty-Seven tried to convince herself.

"You can do it, Thirty-Seven! You're your mother's daughter, you should be able to say something as simple as a confession, it's not hard! Think of this as a mathematical problem!" Oh no... "The answer is a formula, one that can be solved with easy wording!" A door had been opened, but Thirty-Seven had been too caught up to notice "What is the information we have? Sophia's knowledge, your own feelings and the problem being lack of communication!"

"And how would you solve that problem?"

"Confessing my love, of course-- SOPHIA?!"

Standing in front of her is the same girl she had been thinking about, eyes wide in surprise and growing blush on her cheeks. She heard everything... Well, mumbling outside her door is something anyone would be concerned about.

"Hello, Thirty-Seven" Sophia tried to maintain a straight face at those words and at the deafening shout. "I would have asked what you're doing here but I think I shouldn't"

"Why are you here?!"

"...This is, uh, my room..."

"...Forget what you just heard and listen to me!"

As hard of a request as it is, and Sophia's face growing even more red every second that passed, Thirty-Seven had to act quickly and precisely before making a fool out of herself! More than she already is.

"I-- Sophia, I--" Thirty-Seven's hand trembled, her face so red it rivalled Sophia's hair.

"Do you want me to--"

"No! I have to do this, for my pride!" Sophia shrugged, the scene as silly as it can be. "Sophia, I am in--in... In, I'm," How would her mother say those words? Terrible example to take but also the best at the same time. "Go on a date with me!"

A moment of silence for Thirty-Seven. Fortunately, Sophia found it funny. The usually composed young lady, a prodigy at mathematics and the smartest person she had ever seen... Shaking from head to toe, red faced and embarrassed. A cute image that made Sophia laugh, something the poor girl had only been able to witness twice.

"Of course, whenever you want, Thirty-Seven" She looked at the stunned girl by her door. "Not today, I assume, but I'd love to"

"Really?!"

"Really"

Thirty-Seven held back her wish to punch the air, her dignity had been dragged through the mud, she needed to preserve what was left.

Oh, and solve the mystery of why Sophia hadn't told her about her own crush if she had asked.

"Oh, and, Sophia" The girl hummed, waiting for the upcoming question. "My mother said that you had asked her if I had a crush on you, why didn't you tell me if you already knew?"

Sophia furrowed her brows, blinking in confusion. "I didn't ask her anything of the sorts"

"But, Miss Alma also told me you knew about the rumors about me..."

"The rumors, yes, these are hard to miss, but I never asked anything to Miss Seventy-Seven"

Sophia could feel Thirty-Seven's anger grow, to prevent any incidents, she had an idea.

"How about you come with me to get some coffee? After all, I walked out because I needed something to drink" That's a lie, but a harmless one, to save whatever pride the girl had left.

"Yes-- wait, why coffee?"

"Regulus' recommendation... Don't get mad at her and come with me, please"

And so, Sophia attempted to distract Thirty-Seven from her mother's betrayal, two times already. This would be considered a date, but Thirty-Seven wanted something that could feel more warm, more romantic.

Preferably, without any help from her mother.

[petitelepus]

Hello dear friend! Can I have yandere transformers matchup? :3 I would be a human!!

I care too much about what others feel and think to an unhealthy amount. I am most of the time unserious and I love to joke around, serious situations are stressful so I prefer to be joyful, but I do like talking about serious topics (sometimes).

I joke a lot and I mean a lot (it's mostly the humor of a 12 y/o kid which can be annoying to some people)!

I also apologize A LOT, I apologize so much that it might be too annoying but I always feel a sense of guilt inside of me.  I'm also VERY sensitive and worry about everything. I feel guilty about everything 24/7 even if I shouldn't feel guilty. That's why I apologize so much.

I have anger issues and it's very easy to make me angry. 

My biggest love language is words of affirmation, I would say "I love you" and stuff like that very often. Saying that I am proud of them and compliment them. The second one is probably physical touch!

Thank you so much! Have a wonderful day <3

Starscream and his clones are Yanderes for you!

It all started with Starscream growing obsessed with you. Such a sweet little thing! When coming face to face with a Con like him, your first instinct was to admire this alien robot, just like you humans should, but there was something endearing in you and what Starscream wants, he will get it.

And if he fails? Well, we all know he won't stop after one failure. Those Autobots might want to give you up to him since there is no way they can keep him apart from you.

"You pesky Autobots can't protect her forever! One day she will belong to me and only me!"

This scheming bastard will absolutely guilt trip you into giving yourself for him. He is shameless in that way.

When he created his clones, they did not only get his personality traits but also his obsessions towards you. Fights between clones do ensue, because they adore you and your meek attitude, but DAMN, when you get angry, they are shocked!

...And some are maybe even a little turned on?

Thundercracker thinks he is a big shot and will act like as if he is doing you a favor by loving you. Newsflash, he isn't, but his mind is hard to turn when he sets it on something.

"Don't you see how much I love you? You should feel honored that I've chosen a human like you as my Conjunx Endura!"

Skywarp, poor scared, and abused Skywarp clings to you like you are his shadow and he is even scared of that. He insists that he loves you, so please, protect him? He is so afraid, won't you be brave for him?

"I- I think I saw a Scraplet! P- Please save me, don't leave me alone, I'm so scared!"

Ramjet keeps on lying his aft off, but it works in your advantage. He may deny it, but you know he means exactly the opposite of what he says.

"What are you talking about? I don't love you! No, no, never! Not in a million-star years!"

Sunstorm is a complete and utter suck-up. He will flatter you to Heaven and back, but how genuine he really is?

"Oh, cute little Conjunx of ours! Your beauty or kindness knows no boundaries! Won't you do this poor Con a favor and give him one of those sweet kisses of yours?"

Slipstream is certainly something, only no one really knows what aspect of Starscream she represents. She gives you some tough love because it's only you and her against all these single-minded mechs.

"Please stop apologizing! You owe nothing to these idiots! I'm the only one you need to worry about!"

When or if you give in, all of them, every single one of his clones and Starscream himself love how you shower them with praises and sweet words that declare your love towards them.

They all have their own ways of reacting, but one thing is for certain, you will never be bored with them around you.

Getaway is Yandere for you!

Oh, there is a new human in Lost Light? What a pleasure it would be to get to know them and maybe gain an ally from them?

He didn't expect to see a cutie like you and the moment he saw you enter Lost Light as Earth's liaison and Megatron's new guardian, Getaway knew he had to get you all to himself.

He would approach you and kneel down, taking your small hand in his and making a smooth kiss noise as he would gently press his facemask against the back of your hand. He has you blushing in a matter of seconds and he grins secretly, absolutely sure that he can charm you on his side.

He loves listening to you tell him about Earth and loves hearing you joke and will offer a question or two about how or where you learned such funny things?

Getaway is also charming as Hell, he didn't become one of the hottest Bots out there with his looks alone!

Oh, darling, you have no reason to apologize so much, Getaway would forgive you after two or three apologies and say something charming that would make your heart beat in your chest.

Getaway is curious about your job and when he learns that your death would mean that Megatron would be executed, he grows a morbid plan of faking your death so he could get rid of Megatron.

The mech tries his best to paint a horrible image of Megatron into your mind, trying to get you to his and other rebels' side.

Getaway is the ultimate escape artist, able to escape from any tight spot he might find himself in. That includes an uncomfortable talk with you if you ever have one.

But oh mighty Primus save Getaway when you realize that he has been fooling you all this time and what he did to Rodimus, Megatron, and the rest of your friends. You're seething, knowing he used you for his own good! His only choice is to remove your memories...

But that's alright, little Sweetspark, the two of you can start off fresh! Let Getaway tell you how the two of you are actually lovers and evil Megatron stole your memories of him and you together...

It's okay, you can make new memories starting now as the new Lost Light's captain's Conjunx...!