#gold brick gang

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"GETS THREE-YEAR SENTENCE IN 'GOLD-BRICK' FRAUD CASE," Toronto Star. September 29, 1933. Page 1. --- Mussolino Goes to Penitentiary - Pat Bruno 18 Mos., Emmanuel Three ---- THEY GOT $1,500 ---- The three men found guilty of conspiracy and false pretence in the "gold-brick" case received sentences in general sessions to-day.

The charges were conspiracy and defrauding a young man of $1,500.

Antonio Mussolino was sentenced to three years in Kingston penitentiary on each of three counts, concurrent.

Patrick Bruno, found guilty on two counts, was given eighteen months in Ontario reformatory on each, concurrent.

Emmanuel Bruno, found guilty of conspiracy and strongly recommended to mercy by the jury, was sentenced to three months at the jail farm.

Judge Parker imposed the sentences in place of Judge Widdifield, who sustained an accident subsequent to the trial. His honor told Mussolino he was taking into consideration the intimation restitution of $1,133 was to be made.

"Otherwise," said his honor, "you were fiable to be sentenced to seven years."

During the trial three "gold- bricks" used by the accused to deceive were sawn apart, and experts found an alloy of copper, brass and other metals. semblance striking. to They said the re- genuine gold was

[Mussolini appealed his term but lost out and had his conviction confirmed. He was 49, single, born in Calabria, and had served terms at Burwash Industrial Farm and the Toronto Jail Farm. He was convict #3220 at Kingston Penitentiary and worked in the tin and paint shop. He was released in November 1935, having earned his full 'good time.']

[hihomeghere]

1 and 81 for Charles smut! I’m so excited for these prompts it’s gonna be so fun!

Knight in Shining Armor | Charles Smith/Reader

I really didn't mean for this to be this long, and yet here we are! I hope you enjoy!

Prompt list

Word Count : 3.1k Prompts : 1. "Kiss me" "What-", 81. "Your heart is racing." Warnings/Tags : Mention of abuse, mentions of SH, piv smut, fingering, cleaning of cuts, getting bucked off a horse, cursing, female reader

The Parlour House was bustling with life, beer and whiskey freely flowing. Ever since moving to Clemens point, after that nasty business in Valentine, you had been frequenting the parlor house most nights. Dutch and Hosea had taught you well, pick pocketing was your specialty. It’s how you made your living in the gang, and there were more than enough drunkards to steal from in Rhodes.

Especially with the stupid rivalry between the Grays and Braithwaites. While Dutch and Hosea were dipping their hands into their pockets figuratively, you were literally doing it. 

“Honey, that must be so hard.” You cooed, not giving a shit what this Gray was actually saying. It was about the gold, always about the gold. Dutch was always talking about the gold, Hosea was always talking about the gold. Eventually to save your sanity you had to start tuning them out. You trailed your fingers down his chest, expertly slipping your fingers into his pocket, and pocketing his watch. 

“You have no idea darlin’.” He sighed, his glassy eyes raking over your body. 

“Oh but I do.” You said pouting your lips, your head lolling up and down in an exaggerated fashion. “It must be so tough.” Taking his hand in yours you lifted it to your mouth. Kissing each finger before slipping off his gold band. He wouldn’t be missing it, especially when he was flirting with any woman who would look his way. 

“Hey,” He grinned lazily, “You wanna get a room? Get a bath maybe?” He said trailing his fingers up your arm. You fought every urge to vomit, smiling sweetly at him.

“Oh honey I’m not that type of girl.” You said chuckling softly, pulling away from him. His featherlight touches turned firm, his hand wrapping around your wrist. 

“Don’t tell me you ain’t been thinking about it.” He says through gritted teeth.

“I haven’t honey, honest.” You whispered, shaking your head. Your eyes dart around the saloon for some knight in shining armor. Your eyes landing on a familiar outline outside. 

Why did it have to be him?

When you’ve been fighting feelings for the ox of a man for months. 

When he was asked to be your ‘chaperone’ after coming back to camp one too many times bruised from angry men’s fists. Turning down advances became second nature, but most boys didn’t take no for an answer.

Dutch and Hosea had given you two options, stop working or start taking a man from camp to act as muscle in case things got ugly. 

And things were starting to look ugly. 

You pulled hard against his hand, yanking your hand from his grip. Hissing as his fingernails scraped down your wrist. You turned on your heel, racing for the door. Pushing the doors open, gasping in a breath of fresh air, your eyes turned onto Charles.

“Charles!” You yelled, running into his arms. His large hands landed on your waist as you slammed into the brick wall of his chest.

“Y/n?” His brows furrowed as he looked down at you before his eyes snapped towards the sound of the parlor door busting open. 

“Kiss me.” You said grabbing his shirt, pulling him down to your height.

“Wha-“ Was all he managed to get out before you were slamming your lips onto his. He froze, his lips pursed against yours. A disgruntled huff came out of the Gray chasing you, along with a few not so kind words about your character. Although kissing Charles had deterred him, the door slamming behind the man as he headed back inside.

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled pulling away from him, “I didn’t know what else to do.” You said tucking a piece of hair behind your ear as your cheeks burned. 

“I think you’ve had enough fun for tonight.” He said, clearing his throat, avoiding your gaze. You nodded, swallowing thickly as you both walked back to your horses.

Taima and your newer stallion waited for your return. You set your foot in the stirrup, swinging your leg over your horse's back. You snuck a few glances over at Charles, his brow was set as he climbed up onto the Appaloosa.

You both set off to Clemens point, following the setting sun over the Scarlett meadows. You tried to keep your eyes forward and your mind off his lips against yours. His warm hands squeezing your waist, how they would feel against your bare skin. Shaking your head, you pulled yourself out of your daydream. Glad that Charles was riding behind you, unable to see your flushed face.

It was like time stood still for a moment, your stallions ears pinned back, a started squeal leaving his mouth. Your hands gripped the reins, trying to pull him away from the diamond rattlesnake curled up. He fought against you, bucking you off of his back. You hit the ground, hard. Gasping like a fish out of water as you tried to get the air back in your lungs. Charles was immediately at your side, helping you into a fetal position.

“Deep breath in your nose, out your mouth.” He said softly, his hand resting on your shoulder. You had no idea how he possibly could have gotten off Taima that fast, maybe you had been on the ground longer than you thought. Gasping in small strangled breaths. 

Finally you were able to take in a long shallow breath. “There we go.” He said rubbing your arm, helping you into a sitting position. His thumb moved across your cheek, wiping away a stray tear.

“Stupid fucking horse.” You groaned, eliciting a small chuckle from him. 

“Well you won’t have to worry about it anymore.” He said getting to his feet, looking down the road.

“I told Hosea he was worthless.” You huffed, taking Charles hand as he pulled you up. You hissed, standing up. Your back burning, no doubt tore up from your fall onto the dirt road.

“I think you have high standards, Glory was a great horse.” He said dusting you off. You sighed, Glory was the best horse, but she didn’t make it out of Blackwater.

“She was.” You sighed, putting your hands on your hips as you looked down the road, “That was a good saddle, too.” You said, shaking your head.

“We’ll find you a new one.” He smiled down at you, his warm eyes meeting yours. “Come on, let’s get you back to camp.” He said, his hand connecting with the small of your back. Pain shot up your back as you let out a low hiss, arching away from his hand. “Everything okay?” He asked, his brows furrowed.

“Think I tore up my back.” You nodded, waving him off, “Get on and I’ll sit behind you.” He nodded, climbing up onto the gray speckled Appaloosa. You grabbed his arm, slowly moving your leg over her back. You wrapped your arms around Charles waist, laying your head between his shoulder blades. You could feel the pounding of his heart against your cheek as Taima started to trot forward.

“Your heart is racing.” You said softly, his chest rumbling as he chuckled.

“You gave me quite a scare, you know?” He said, turning his head slightly to look at you. 

“You probably think I’m a mess.” You chuckled nervously, shaking your head.

“No,” He said softly, “I don’t.”

You rode in silence, your hips bumping into his behind with the sway of Taima’s steps. You were glad you were born a female, because there is no way you wouldn’t have gotten a hard on. You didn’t have to worry about your breasts pressing against Charles' back for much longer, the familiar line of trees coming into view. 

He led Taima over to the hitching posts, giving her a firm pat before turning to help you off. His hands landed on your waist for the second time. He lifted you off of her back as though you weighed nothing. Setting you gently on the ground, his hands lingering on your waist. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” He said softly, nodding as he looked down at you.

“Alright.” You nodded, walking towards your tent. He headed off to grab some supplies while you pulled the canvas flap down. You sat down on your cot, staring at the discolored fabric of your tent. You couldn’t tell if it was anxiety or anticipation bubbling up inside you. You just knew if Charles didn’t get back soon you would explode from it.

He cleared his throat, pulling back the flap as he stepped inside your tent. “Can you take your shirt off?” He asked, “I need to clean your back.” You swallowed thickly, nodding your head.

“Yeah, yeah.” You said looking down, your fingers trembling as you began to unbutton your blouse. You bit your lip as you pushed your shirt off of your shoulders, moving your hair off of your back. The cot sank as he settled his weight down next to you. 

“This’ll sting.” Charles said softly, pouring alcohol onto a cloth before pressing against the cuts on your back.

“Shit.” You said through gritted teeth, your knuckles turning white as you gripped the cot beneath you. He mumbled an apology, pulling the cloth away from your back. Your breath hitched in your throat as his fingers replaced the cloth. Goosebumps erupting on your skin as they trailed down your back. You felt frozen, wanting more than anything to look back at him, but at the same time you were afraid he would stop if you moved.

You bit the bullet, turning your head to glance back at him. His dark eyes met yours, cautious, like he was afraid to spook you. Although you wanted to shy away from his gaze, you held it, an unspoken exchange passing between the two of you.

 He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder, holding your gaze. You reached up to cup his cheek, moving as though it was muscle memory. An intricate dance choreographed for you two. He let out a soft sigh against your skin as your hand connected to his face. Your soft palm resting against his scarred cheek. His hands moved to your waist, squeezing softly. His lips laid kisses from your shoulder up to your neck.

“Charles,” You sighed, not knowing what you were asking for. He hummed against your neck, his chest rumbling softly. You turned on the cot, pressing yourself against him. Your nipples rubbed against the cotton fabric of his shirt. You brushed your nose against his, your arms wrapped sweetly around his neck. He took the plunge, pressing his lips against yours.

Warmth flooded your body, like the first sip of whiskey. Heat spreads from your lips down into your belly. Arousal sparking between your legs as he moans softly into your mouth. You part your lips, swallowing his sounds greedily. Your tongue flicks into his mouth, dancing with his. Your hand threads into his dark locks, tugging experimentally at his scalp. 

He groans, low and reverberating through his chest. You smirk against his lip, repeating your motions. His hand, calloused and warm, laid over your breast. Kneading it gently, you gasp as his thumb runs over your nipple. You arch into his hand, closing your eyes as you pull him closer.

“Charles I-“ You said breathlessly, looking at him through half lidded eyes.

“I know.” He said softly, ducking his head to take your nipple into his mouth. You moaned, an unabashed whine pulled out of your throat as his tongue swirled around the bud.  He pulled away with a satisfying pop, his dark eyes meeting yours as he smiled up at him. “You need to stop with those sounds, sweet girl.” He whispered, leaning forward to brush his nose against yours again. A silent plea for a kiss which you eagerly gave. Your mouth clashed against his, unlike the first sickly sweet kiss you shared. 

“I’ll try.” You chuckled softly, looking at him with a lust filled gaze. His eyes only showed adoration, a look that had you faltering. “What?” You asked with a nervous smile.

“You’re beautiful.” He said nonchalantly, as though it was something as simple as saying the sky was blue. 

“Shut up.” You said, your cheeks burning as you pulled on the hem of his shirt. He chuckled softly, pulling the blue fabric over his head, throwing it onto the floor. 

Your lips met again, your hands laying on his bare chest. Feeling the heat radiating off of his body, feeding the fire between your legs. Your hands mapped a path down his chest, taking in every scar and divot. 

“I need you.” You whined, looking up at him. He smirked, a glint in his eye as he laid you back. You hissed, the rough fabric gliding against your cuts.

“That won’t work.” He said pulling you back up, you laid a chaste kiss on his lips before standing. You untied your skirts, letting them pool around your feet. He leaned back on the cot, unbuttoning his pants and shimmying out of them. You slipped your fingers into the top of your bloomers pulling them over the swell of your ass. You bit your lip, your eyes rising slowly to meet his.

“C’mere.” He said reaching for you, you took a step towards him. His hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you close. His head rested against your stomach, his other hand trailing up your thigh. You waited patiently for him to touch the place you needed him most. He didn’t make you wait long, his large hand cupping your mound. Trailing his fingers through your slick folds, his thumb pressing against the hood of your clit. 

Your breath hitched, pleasure shooting through your body. Your hands gripped his shoulders as he laid featherlight kisses on your stomach. His thick finger presses into your cunt, a low whine leaving your chest.

“Shh,” He said softly, starting to pump his finger in and out of you. You bite your lip to stifle your moans, your fingernails digging crescent shaped marks into his shoulders. 

Charles knows he shouldn’t be enjoying this as much as he is. Knows he shouldn’t like how you dig your nails into him. He knows when tomorrow comes those marks will remain, even if you don’t.

He adds a second finger and your knees start to shake, dancing dangerously close to the edge of your orgasm. You can feel his eyes burning into you, almost willing you to look at him. You’ve never felt this, this yearning for another person, not just for their body. You want Charles, you want all of him. You want him to be yours and you want to be his. You want to scream from the rooftops that you feel the closest to, well love, that you’ve ever been.

And fuck is that terrifying. 

Then his thumb circles on your clit and you’re fucking gone. Diving headfirst into a pool of pleasure. 

“There we go.” He cooed letting out a satisfied huff. You chuckle weakly, leaning your head against his. A bead of sweat runs down your forehead onto his. “You think you’re ready?” He asked, his deep brown eyes meeting yours.

“I’ve been ready for a long time.” You chuckled, shaking your head.

“That’s not what I meant.” He said taking your hand, placing it on his crotch.

Oh.

How was that supposed to fit inside you?

You stroked up his length through his undergarments. You grabbed the piece of clothing separating skin on skin and pulled it down this thick thighs. Your mouth watering as his cock bounced up onto his stomach. Painfully hard and weeping. You spit onto your hand, spreading your saliva over his cock head. You stand over him, letting his hands guide your hips down. His girthy head stretches you open, your breath catching in your throat.

“My girl.” He groans, as you slide down onto his length. My, My, My, My. It’s a constant loop in your head as he fully sheathes himself inside you. Stretching you wider than you’ve ever been before, painful in a good way. You let out a shaky breath, craning your neck back in pleasure. Charles' lips press against your pulse point, a silent apology on his part. Although there isn’t a need for it, your hips rise off of him slightly, before slamming back down. 

A near animalistic moan falls out of Charles lips, his hands dimpling your flesh. You clenched around him, gasping as his hips thrusted upwards. Concern flashed across his face before it quickly turned lustful as you grinded down onto him. He let you set the pace, wanting you to enjoy the experience as much as he was. He was along for the ride you could say. If he had it his way he would have buried his head between your thighs until you were crying.

You raised your hips until he was almost out of you before slamming back down. Repeating the motion until you could feel the coil tightening in your stomach.

“Yeah? You close?” Charles asked, sucking a mark that would definitely get you a few stares in the morning onto your neck. 

“Mmhm.” You said, your head lolling back and forth. Biting your lip to stop the wanton moans that threatened to break free. He took over, thrusting up into you. Suddenly the coil snapped, you gushed over his cock, slamming your hand over your mouth to muffle your moan. 

“That’s my good girl.” He praises, his thrusts starting to get sloppier as he goes on. He quickly pulls out, groaning as he spills his seed onto the ground. You chuckled breathlessly, smiling as you laid your head onto his shoulder. He let out a long satisfied sigh, his hands rubbing soothing circles onto your thighs. “I didn’t hurt you, right?” He asked, looking into your eyes for confirmation.

“Far from it.” You laughed, shaking your head. “That was…” you trailed off grinning.

“Yeah.” He nodded, gently squeezing your thigh. A comfortable silence fell between the two of you. Nothing needed to be said, that was the wonderful thing about you and Charles. But you wanted- no needed to say something.

“Maybe I should get in trouble and fall off my horse more often.” You chuckled, rubbing your nose against his cheek.

“You don’t need to do that again.” He mumbled, a smile spreading across his face. “Just- just talk to me next time.” 

“Next time?” You asked, hoping bubbling up in your chest.

“Next time.” He nodded, brushing his nose against yours.

[itsabouttimex2]

Hi there did they ever just consider putting a backpack leash on y/n in the Demon Child AU JTTW gang? Also did y/n ever kid kidnapped and held for ransom by many demons to try to get the monk by saying we'll let her go in Exchange for him( I also know he had alot of demon um demon suiters that instead of wanting to eat him apparently wanted marriage dam the monk got accidentally rizz)

Taken Aboard: Restraints

It’s not impossible that the gang would decide to to utilize some form of restraint after enough troublemaking by Y/N- in place of a leash, though, I imagine that Tang Sanzang would actually use a length of fabric to swaddle Y/N.

The event that caused him to decide you needed such extreme supervision?

(He was not happy.)

“Little demon,” he calls, looking down at you expectantly. “Hurry along now- you know what is expected of you before we enter a town.”

“…Master, this is embarrassing.”

“Please hurry, little one. We’ve so much to do, and I would like to get on with it right away.”

And after a little bit of huffing and puffing, you do as requested- and use the 72 Transformation to assume the form of a helpless babe, your mass-displaced form falling snug into his arms.

The Great Monk wraps you in a length of silk that he affixes around his torso and shoulders, leaving your now squishy body squashed against his soft chest.

Not only does this (frankly humiliating) transformation allow Sanzang to sneak you about without scaring any villagers, it also prevents you from running off to cause trouble.

Jokes on him, though- every last bachelorette from the village has one response to a very pretty man bundling around a cute baby:

As for getting kidnapped… yeah, the Journeyfam isn’t putting up with that shit. Not when their master gets snatched up every other day and nearly sautéed and stewed. I mean, operating on the thought that Y/N is very explicitly a demon- horns, fangs, tail, etc- the child has at least some means of self-defense.

If they do get snatched, I can’t imagine there’s a situation where Y/N doesn’t at least leave their assailant battered and scarred, which doesn’t help the demon when three angry demons and a furious dragon break down the door. And Tang Sanzang; to his credit, makes a fair effort to soothe his disciples and quell their fury… but it’s going to be much too late for anyone who decided to lay their hands on the honorary little sibling of all these furious souls.

Outside of kidnapping? I’d like to imagine that Y/N, as a child (potentially female, depending on you or your OC’s gender) in Medieval China, might be eyed up by more… unsavory individuals.

“How much?”

Sanzang turns to find the source of a casual voice, looking at a sweat-stained farmer leaning over a fresh chicken corpse. The laborer takes a moment to wipe his bloody hands, then folds his thick arms.

“How much for the kid? Seems strong, and has some muscle. I could use another pair of hands on the farm.”

And Sanzang is so genuinely appalled at the simple manner in which genuine slavery is being spoken of here, as though you are a commodity and not a thinking, breathing thing all your own. He offers no retort or reprimand, instead choosing to take you by the hand and hurry off into the crowd- not that Wukong won’t have a few “words” to share with the would-be purchaser.

But that’s not even the worst possible scenario for the gang to face-

No, the worst is proposed child marriage.

All it takes is one rich man/woman to decide that they want an “exotic” spouse, and that the little demon child with a pair of magical restraints is their “safest” way to get it.

I don’t even think Sanzang would have time to comprehend what his disciples were doing before it was over- he’s too busy reeling over being offered literal bricks of gold in return for an actual child.

And obviously his answer is a hundred firm “nos” and a dozen chants of “go to your nearest monastery and pray!”, each one delivered with increasing fervor…

Or, it would be- if his disciples hadn’t solved the matter themselves before he had regained the use of his tongue.

[ckret2]

Chapter 26 of human Bill doing his best to arm-twist his captors into doing anything he wants, featuring: the gang going to the mall, where Bill tries on some of the most ridiculous outfits known to mankind, to Mabel's delight and Stan & Dipper's despair.

(please click on the second image, you can't imagine how long it took to make those two patterns. (Okay you probably can, it was a couple hours.))

####

Bill said, "Well, you can tell Stanford that if he's got a problem with my drinking, I'd like to see him try to get a good night's sleep in an alien body without some kind of sedative! I've got a fresh new liver, three little cans of cider a day won't kill me before one of us finds a way to get me out of this body!"

Exasperated, Mabel said, "Why do I have to tell him? Just talk to each other."

"You think I don't want to? He's the one who's put two doors, an elevator, and a trick vending machine between him and me."

Mabel supposed that was true. "Okay, fine. More importantly: what do you think of going shopping?"

Bill shrugged. "Sure. I'll take any opportunity to go outside. It'll be a good test run for other trips."

Mabel frowned, clearly disappointed by the reaction. "That's it? I thought you'd be more excited. You can finally get more clothing!"

"How much clothing do I need?" He gestured down at himself, wearing his hoodie and a borrowed skirt. "I'm not naked, what more do you want from me?"

"To like your clothing!"

"Oh, right. I keep forgetting you have a whole thing about people other than you being happy."

Mabel socked his arm. "Do you just not care about clothes? I didn't expect you to be like Dipper about it."

Eugh. "It's not that I don't like fashion in general," Bill said, eager to distance himself from the household wet blanket. "I have very strong opinions on other people's fashion! It's just..."

It was just that he didn't relish the idea of standing in front of a mirror, partially nude, staring at the bone-caged skin prison he was locked inside.

He still put towels over the bathroom mirror when he showered.

"Well," he said, "isn't the whole point of fashion self-expression? And my self can't be expressed in this body." He tugged on the collar of his hoodie, "This is as close as it's gonna get."

"Does clothing have to express your self? Can't it just look really cool?" Mabel asked.

Bill considered that. "I do like looking really cool."

Maybe he didn't have to see it as dressing himself. Treat it like inflicting his design whims upon a helpless human puppet. He'd done that before, he liked doing that. He was lucky, at least, that as far as puppets went, this was an incredibly good-looking one. Aside from the neck.

"Do I have to wear that, though?" Bill skeptically eyed the knit garment held in Mabel's hands.

"Yep! Grunkle Ford's orders! It's to make sure you don't talk to people."

"Can I put it on over my hoodie?"

"As heartwarming as it is that you love it so much: no, you've gotta take it off."

"How come?"

"It's safer this way! Your hoodie might freak people out."

"Freak them out how?"

####

Soos trudged into the kitchen at 3 a.m., yawning, and turned on the lights.

The Bill Cipher, triangular and angular, gold-bricked and one-eyed, hovered in the air.

Soos screamed. "He's back! Everyone watch out! You stay away from my family, you—" Soos picked up the nearest weapon and chucked it at Bill.

The spatula bounced harmlessly off his chest and clattered to the floor. Bill took his hood off. "Wow. Thanks for getting my hopes up, Questiony."

"Oh, whoops. Sorry 'bout that. At a quick glance, that hoodie makes you look a lot like... you." Soos looked Bill up and down again. "Hey. How come you're standing on the kitchen table in the middle of the night?"

"Eh." Bill shrugged. "It passes the time."

####

"Sometimes I curse your species's overactive pattern-detection instincts." Bill snatched Mabel's offering out of her hand and trudged to the bathroom to change.

He emerged a moment later wearing the tank top Mabel had knit for him, and tugged out the hem to examine it. She'd cross-stitched on the chest: "STAY BACK! I BITE SALES PEOPLE!"

"I'd be pretty insulted," Bill said, "if this wasn't the funniest thing I've ever worn."

####

Stan pulled the old Diablo near the porch to minimize the amount of time Bill would spend in open air between confinement in the shack and in a vehicle; then waited leaning against the car, glowering at the ground like the world's surliest chauffeur (he'd even put on his suit), for Dipper and Mabel to escort the prisoner outside.

The second Bill stepped off of the porch, he looked up in amazement. "What is that?"

Dipper and Mabel looked at Bill's face, then in the direction he was looking. He was staring straight into the sun without squinting. Mabel said, "The... sun?"

"No, not the sun! I mean the—" Bill gestured toward the sun. "Whatever it's doing."

Mabel looked skyward again. She didn't see anything else Bill could be referring to. "Shining?"

"I know what sunshine is!"

"Then what are you asking about!"

Bill studied the sky a moment longer. Finally, he said, "Guess I don't know what sunshine feels like! It's been a long time since I've been naked in the sun."

Stan's head snapped up to stare at Bill. Bill was still completely clothed.

After another few seconds, arms outstretched, staring in blank-faced wide-eyed wonder at the sky, Bill concluded, "I think I'm photosynthesizing again."

This time Dipper looked over. And, Bill was still completely human—a species notoriously well-known for not photosynthesizing. "'Again'?"

Bill didn't respond. Instead, with a shrill cackle that startled the nearby birds out of the trees, he took off at a full sprint.

"Hey!" Dipper tore after him. Stan tensed up, but then grunted, leaned back against his car, and waited for Bill to trip.

Bill's run was the awkward bouncing gait of a moon astronaut on fast forward: someone who at some point had definitely learned how to run, but clearly wasn't used to doing it in this body on this world. He switched to an odd sideways crab-walk gallop—which was, surprisingly, faster—and then attempted, and failed, a cartwheel. Dipper dove for Bill, Stan laughed at them both, and Mabel shouted encouragement at Bill from the porch; Bill hopped back up just before Dipper could catch him.

He attempted a second cartwheel but was caught in the middle by an invisible force jerking his wrist. He yelped and tumbled to the ground. "I think I twisted my arm!" He sounded way too giddy about this.

Mabel looked down at her own wrist and the chain bracelet. She wasn't being actively pulled toward Bill; but nevertheless she couldn't pull her wrist any further away from him. "It worked."

"Of course it did!" Breathing heavily, Bill got to his feet and leaned backward on his heels, using the tension of the bracelet around his wrist to keep from falling. "What, did you ever doubt me?"

"Yes," Stan said. "Always," Dipper said. "Every time you open your mouth," Mabel said.

"You're all haters."

Mabel took a flying leap off of the porch. Bill toppled on his back again.

Once they were all loaded in the car—Dipper in the front glaring in the rear view mirror, Mabel and Bill in the back with Bill making faces at the mirror—Stan said, "Okay. I'm not getting you anything nice, because you're not worth it."

"Aww. And after I made you almost five grand?"

Dipper's jaw dropped. "He what?! When did—"

Raising his voice, Stan went on, "So we're going to Shop Thrifty. Any complaints?"

Bill said, "You don't wanna go there."

Stan turned to give him a dark look.

"You don't," Bill said. "They were robbed this weekend. Security's gonna be high."

"No they weren't, you can't know that. You're making that up. I'm calling your bluff."

Dipper cleared his throat. "Actually... yeah, they were robbed. I've been investigating the possibility that it might've been..." At the sight of Bill's keen gaze in the rear view mirror, Dipper trailed off into mumbles.

Bill waited a second longer to ensure Dipper was properly cowed; then said, "See? You can trust me! But if you want to go to the thrift shop..."

"Ha." Stan drummed his fingers on the steering wheel; then reluctantly said, "I guess we could go to the mall—"

Mabel pumped her fists in the air. "THE MALL!"

"Yes! Finally!" Bill dragged his hands down his face in relief. "Civilization! Other people!"

"Hey!" Stan turned around to point threateningly at Bill. Bill held up his hands to block the accusatory finger. "This still isn't a social trip. Talk to anyone and we're going back to the car."

"I know, I know. I just wanna look at people. That's all!" Bill said. "You know that feeling when you come out of a couple weeks in the hole? When you're grateful just to see anybody?"

Stan's frown deepened; but he didn't say anything. He just turned around, ignored Dipper's curious look, and started driving.

Mabel and Bill high-fived.

####

As the car pulled into a parking spot, Mabel handed Bill a pair of mirrored sunglasses with one lens popped out. Bill rolled his (yellow, slitted) eye, but he switched his eyepatch over to the lensless side of the sunglasses and put them on. "Nobody'll notice my eyes. They only look inhuman at certain angles."

"We're being extra cautious," Mabel said.

"If you're gonna make me wear shades any time I'm in public, can I at least pick a pair I like while I'm here?"

Mabel said, "Sure!" at the same time Stan said, "Not a chance." Dipper looked between the two of them, and said, "I'm with Stan."

"I wasn't taking a vote." Bill leaned forward to shove Dipper's hat over his eyes, and followed Mabel out of the car before Dipper could retaliate.

Bill's grin got a little wider and his gait a little bouncier the closer they got to the mall, until he was practically skipping through the automatic doors. "Look at this place! I can't remember the last time I visited a bazaar this booming in person! Two stories, even! Wow!"

Dipper and Mabel exchanged a glance. Gravity Malls was, by far, the smallest mall either of them had ever visited. You could see from one end of it to the other in a straight shot, and the anchor store was just a more popular chain's discount outlet location. Dipper muttered, "He's trying too hard to talk up the place."

Mabel giggled. "Maybe he's easily impressed."

Bill evidently didn't care. He was too busy taking in the sight of all the stores and all the people who didn't hate his guts (or, at least, didn't know they did). He chipperly said, "Hey there!" as he wove around a haggard teenage kiosk salesman.

"Hello?" Snapping into sales mode, the kiosk kid said, "Are you interested in genuine gold-plated signet rings? We have rings with dragons, eagles, Chinese characters, American flags, football teams..."

Bill did a u-turn without slowing down. "Boy, am I! You got any secret societies?"

Stan wrapped an arm around Bill's shoulders—"No, you're not interested."—and dragged him away. He lowered his voice. "What happened to no talking to anyone?"

Bill laughed. "Sorry, I got excited!"

"Uh-huh. Get 'excited' one more time, and I'll assume you're 'forgetting' the rules on purpose and we're going home."

Bill stopped laughing. "Okay, fine." He trudged alongside Stan, sulking.

####

Stan tried to direct them toward the discount outlet store; Bill looked wistfully at Edgy On Purpose; Mabel overruled them both by grabbing Bill's hand and bodily dragging him to the coolest store in the mall: 18th Century, the place where the almost-and-barely college kids shopped, and Mabel's newest fashion avatars now that she'd had a year to explore "teenage" fashion and had gotten over it. "You can tell it's for college kids, because they also sell bedsheets and inflatable furniture," she explained as they entered, just before abandoning Bill with Stan as she ran off to start collecting clothing on Bill's behalf. Bill and Stan side-eyed each other, and Bill drifted off toward the small home goods section.

"Ooh, Dipper look." Mabel pointed at a sales rack. "Out-of-season prom dresses! Those are the fanciest dresses!" She dove in eagerly, checking the size tags.

Dipper hovered behind her, hands stuffed deep in his pockets, trying to stand far enough away that it didn't look like he was an active participant in this shopping trip but not so far away that people might start wondering why a thirteen-year-old boy was in the dress section by himself. "Are you shopping for B—for Goldie, or for yourself?"

"For Goldie, obviously! He likes having a triangular silhouette, he needs dresses!"

"Does he want dresses?"

Mabel made a vague I dunno sound. "I haven't asked him yet."

"Maybe you should?"

"It's fine, I'm going to! He can tell me when he catches up!" Mabel pulled out a sequin-studded dress that looked like it had been constructed out of fluorescent pink peacock feathers. She paused. "Okay, it's not exactly his style, but do you think he might try it on anyway?"

Dipper groaned. "Mabel, he's a guy, he's not gonna try on a dress. He wears top hats and bow ties, remember?"

"I know, but... just for fun...?"

Dipper shook his head. Mabel sighed.

Bill rounded a rack of clothing, using a curtain rod he'd claimed out of the home goods section like it was a cane. "Hey, star girl. I know we're here on a focused mission, buuut do you think we could spare a minute to try something just for fun..." He trailed off as he and Mabel simultaneously realized they were both holding a pink peacock dress. Bill's face lit up. "Where have you been all my life?"

"Shut up! How are you this cool!"

"Where's the dressing room."

They took off for the back of the store, Bill tripping over a whole clothing rack as he went.

Dipper watched them uncomfortably, decided he didn't want to follow, and picked his way to the front of the store, where Stan was leaning in the doorway with his arms crossed tightly and a sour look on his face. Dipper asked, "Does it worry you how well Mabel and Goldie..."

"Ohhh yeah."

####

Bill swung open the dressing room door. "Well? Whaddaya think?" He fanned out the feathers as best he could with his hands. 

"It's so beautiful," Mabel said.

"It's hideous," Stan said.

"It's kinda baggy around the shoulders and chest," Dipper said.

Bill shrugged. "I've got the shoulder span of a snake and the hips of a sumo wrestler, what do you expect?"

"It's okay, I can tailor anything we get," said Mabel, who had never tailored anything in her life but was sure she had a book on it in Piedmont.

"Tailor nothing," Stan said, "we're not getting this! What, are you crazy?"

Bill said, "Obviously."

Stan gestured at him. "What in the world would you wear this for?"

"Who cares? It looks cool and this body is merely a meat armature to drape coolness upon." Bill stepped back into the dressing room to eye the dress in the mirror. "Color's a little uniform, though. I'd need some accessories to break it up."

"I think you're right," Mabel said, stroking her chin. "You know what color goes best with hot pink?"

Simultaneously, she and Bill said, "Lime green," then cracked up and pointed at each other excitedly. 

Stan and Dipper exchanged a tired look.

####

"How about this one?" Bill looked at Stan and Dipper, who were standing guard while Mabel searched for more clothes. "It's obviously the best shirt in the store, but is it me?" Bill was wearing a loose Hawaiian shirt covered in bright multicolored triangles with animal skin patterns—leopard, zebra, tiger, checkers—and a pair of black jeans that fit his hips but consequently drowned his ankles. "Trick question. It's me all over!" He laughed. His laughter petered out. "It's... it's more me than I am. Wow."

Dipper and Stan didn't laugh. "I'm a Hawaiian shirt kind of man," Stan said, "but if the choice was between that thing and going naked, I'd go naked."

"Keep your nudist fantasies to yourself, Stanley." Bill studied his reflection again. "The shirt's great, but they make the pants look dull. I need something that coordinates with it. But what..."

Mabel returned while Bill was musing on his shirt. She wordlessly held out the pair of cheetah/tiger print rainbow leggings she'd been retrieving. It matched the shirt perfectly, in the sense that they both had so many colors on them that inevitably some of those colors were accidentally the same.

Bill accepted the leggings with an expression close to awe. "You're a fashion genius," he said. "Are you sure you don't want your own planet?"

"Not from you," Mabel said.

And for a moment, Bill actually almost looked hurt.

####

Bill held up several shirts thoughtfully. The first was an eye-searing abomination; the second was a retina-burning nightmare; and the third was about the same, but it was covered in smiley faces, and somehow that made it worse.

"I feel like they'd all have the right psychological effect on my enemies," Bill said, "but all three is a little redundant, isn't it?"

Not looking, Stan asked, "Is the effect you're trying to have boring your enemies to death? Because it's working."

Bill scowled. He chucked all three at Stan's face. "Fine! Stick them in the 'maybe' pile, I'll narrow them down later." By this point, the "maybe" pile in Stan's arms was almost too big for him to carry.

"My willingness to indulge Mabel is losing to my annoyance at indulging you," Stan said. "I thought this was going to be a quick trip."

"Yeah, well, I'm kinda getting into it."

"Well, would you get out of it and dress like a normal person?"

"Okay, fine. I'll try on something subtle—"

"Goldie!" Mabel ran up waving a ruby red jacket over her head. "Look what I found in the clearance bin! Glittery vinyl!"

Bill's eyes widened.

Reverently, Mabel said, "It looks like a 50's diner booth."

"Is the picture on the back a—?"

"Yeah, it's a puking kangaroo."

Bill snatched the jacket from her hands. "I'll try something subtle after this."

Stan groaned. "I'm gonna stretch my legs." He dropped the "maybe" pile on the floor. "Dipper, make sure the demon doesn't try to end the world while I'm gone."

Dipper resigned himself to the fact that this shopping trip was never going to end, and curled up on the floor to wait to die.

####

"Now, this is a keeper," Bill said, examining the summer dress in the mirror. With Stan gone, Bill had a moment of leisure to properly inspect the way the fabric moved and draped. He was using the opportunity to grab the skirt and twirl it like a three-year-old who'd never worn a dress before. "It really speaks to me."

Mabel asked, "Is it because it's covered in—?"

"It's because it's covered in yellow triangles. I know what I like!" He spun around to see how the skirt flared out, tripped and fell over—"I meant to do that!"—and heaved himself back upright with his curtain rod cane. "I'm fine, shoo." He waved off Mabel's attempt to help, and brushed off the dress. "Too bad it looks weird with pants. I'd prefer my legs covered, but dresses are the only thing most human stores carry that flatter my shape, so what're you gonna do."

"What about more leggings?" Mabel asked.

"Do they have any black ones that don't look like cheap spandex?"

"I think I saw some that look like jeans!"

"It'll do. Good thinking, star girl."

"Any time, triangle... guy." Mabel paused. "Hey... just out of curiosity—since I don't think we ever really covered this, since you're an alien and all—aaare you a guy or a girl?"

"I'm a triangle! C'mon, you already know that."

Mabel opened her mouth to protest that Bill hadn't answered her question; hesitated as she realized that maybe, in fact, he had; and instead asked, "Is a triangle more like a guy or a girl?"

Bill paused as he gave the question a moment of contemplation; and then he said, "No, not really."

Dipper, who'd been using the "maybe" clothing pile as a pillow and pretending to ignore everything Bill did, finally gave in to the urge to glance over curiously.

Mabel concluded a triangle must be either in the exact middle of the scale, or else outside of it completely. "Oh! Okay."

Bill elbowed Mabel and said, "Keep this bit between you and me," blithely ignoring the fact that Dipper was totally within earshot and now seething about being ignored in return. "But if anyone else on this planet asks, I'll usually imply I'm a 'man,'" he put the word in finger quotes, as though he wasn't wholly convinced that "men" really existed, "but—that's strictly for business."

"Business?"

"You know, work stuff," Bill said dismissively. "It makes things easier. See, for the last few millennia, most humans have taken a male's suggestions a bit more seriously than a female's, even when the entity they're talking to is an all-knowing extra-dimensional divine alien angelic muse. Crazy, right?" He said this like he was imparting some great secret he'd figured out by himself.

"Ugh, yeah," Mabel groaned. "Sexism."

"Sexism," Bill sighed, as if he had any dog in this fight at all and wasn't just pretending he could commiserate with his only local friend. "So I figure I can get things done faster as a Bill than a Jill. But honestly? Your local gender system doesn't make any more difference to me than it would to you if somebody asked how many sides you have."

Mabel considered the matter of her hypothetical sides. "I feel like I'd have seven sides."

"Oho! I stand corrected." Bill laughed. "I would've pegged you as a pentagon. I'll remember that."

Mabel had no idea what information she'd just conveyed to Bill, but she felt like he was impressed she had an answer at all.

####

"How about this one?"

"I love it. It's so mysterious," Mabel said.

Stan said, "I thought you were gonna try on something subtle?" 

"What's more subtle than camo! That's the whole point of it!"

Dipper said, "You're not wearing camo."

Bill looked down at his galaxy print tank top, galaxy print button up, galaxy print skirt, galaxy print leggings, and galaxy print sneakers. "I guess what counts as camouflage depends on the context."

"Wh—" Dipper blinked at Bill in disbelief. "In what context could this possibly qualify as camouflage?"

"Is that a trick question?"

Drily, Stan asked, "You got travel plans taking you to outer space anytime soon, pal?"

Bill's shoulders slumped.

"Now put on something you might actually wear," Stan said.

####

Bill opened the dressing room door with four sets of basic black leggings and pants, a couple shorts, and several plain tops in various shades of gold and yellow. "Okay, done."

"Not gonna model each of these for us?" Stan asked.

"Do you want me to?"

"No."

"Fine! You kids don't need to weigh in on these—they're not as fun as the other outfits you were busy unappreciating." Bill shoved the whole pile against Stan's chest, burying the "maybe" outfits he'd insisted he would narrow down. "Okay, let's go."

Stan scowled. "How many outfits did we agree to get you?"

"You didn't." Bill headed to the front of the store.

Mabel started to follow him, paused, glanced back at Stan, and said, "Maybe you can just... toss some of it back on the racks?"

"Maybe you can toss most of it," Dipper said. "How much does he really need, like two shirts and two pants?"

Mabel laughed. "Shut up, that's what you wear!"

Stan rolled his eyes, but headed to the front of the store with an armload of clothing.

The cashier smiled as Bill approached, read his "I BITE SALES PEOPLE" shirt, and quickly turned her attention to Stan. "Hi! Did you find everything you needed?"

"Yeah, and then some," he grumbled, shooting a look at Bill and Mabel. He dumped the pile of clothing on the counter with a heavy groan proportionate to the emotional weight of carrying Bill Cipher's shopping, and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Where'd I put my wallet?"

As the cashier scanned the clothes, took off the security tags, and stuffed them into bags, Stan alternated between snatching up the bags to sling them over his arms—looking grumpier with each one—and searching for his wallet. "I'm sure I put... ah-ha!" He withdrew it triumphantly. "There! I know I've got a twenty in here somewhere."

The cashier immediately stopped scanning to give Stan a perplexed look. Hopefully, she asked, "Will you be paying for the rest by card?"

"What do you mean, 'the rest'? How much could this stuff—?" Stan grabbed the price tag on one of the shirts, squinted at it, and grabbed his chest. "Holy moly! For one shirt? This is robbery!"

Mabel winced. "I guess it's a little bit pricier than the thrift shop, but it's not that bad—is it?"

"Not that bad?! For prices like this, it'd be cheaper to get a boat ticket to Taiwan and rob the sweatshop where they sew this stuff! Forget it!" He started sliding bags off his arms and tossing them back on the counter. "Keep them! We're not shopping here!"

"But Grunkle Stan!" Mabel grabbed his coat. "We just found a bunch of stuff that's perfect for Goldie! Please?"

"Do you think I care? He'd be wearing potato sacks if I had my way! We'll go to the outlet store, those are the prices he deserves."

Dipper groaned. "Do we have to do this whole thing all over again?" He and Mabel both looked pleadingly at Bill, waiting for him to protest the return of his carefully-curated wardrobe of tacky golden horrors.

Bill shrugged. "If he didn't bring enough money to the mall, there's nothing we can do about it now."

"Hey! This isn't on me! If it wasn't for you, we'd be at the Shop Thrifty right now!"

Bill scoffed. "Come on, Stanley. It's the 2010's. Even at a thrift store, how far do you think a Jackson's gonna carry you?"

"I think it'd get me a sock I could cram in your mouth, how do you like that?" Stan tossed the last bag on the counter, told the dismayed cashier, "And he looked ugly in everything he picked out, anyway," and stomped toward the door.

"I'm so sorry," Mabel said to the cashier, and hurried after Stan with Dipper. "But Grunkle Stan, we found so many nice things here! We could at least get a couple shirts or leggings..."

"Hey," Bill said. "It's okay, kid."

Mabel shut her mouth, but she didn't look happy about it.

The party trailed behind Stan past a couple of stores, before Bill sped up to walk alongside him and asked, "Well? What's our haul?"

Stan grunted. "What?"

A slow, sly grin spread across Bill's face. "Come on. You can fool the humans, but you can't fool me. What's our haul?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Bill raised a brow.

Stan only lasted a couple of seconds before he cracked a mischievous smile as well. "Oh, did you mean this haul?" He rummaged in his pockets and pulled out a pair of leggings. And then another pair. And then, from his other pocket, a Hawaiian shirt. And—

Mabel gasped. "Grunkle Stan," she hissed. "You didn't!"

"Aw, man." Dipper smacked his forehead. "So all that was an act?"

—and three pairs of socks out of his jacket sleeve, and a dress from his inner coat pocket, and— "Yeeep. I've still got it."

Mabel and Dipper exchanged an exasperated look.

"And you were gonna hit the thrift store." Bill lifted his sunglasses so Stan could see him roll his eye.

"Hey, they've usually got less security than the mall. It's a safer score."

"Cheaper, too."

"You shut up! I'd like to see you do as well."

A bright smile snapped across Bill's face. "Would you! Then get a load of this—" He showed off the front and back of one empty hand, then the other; curled one into a fist; pushed his fingers into the fist and plucked out a corner of fabric; and then, like a magician revealing a long line of scarves tied at the corners, pulled out one garment after another, shirts and skirts and pants. Mabel buried her face in her hands. Dipper looked around like he expected mall security to run up and immediately arrest them all. Bill said, "What'd we lift, almost half the stuff I picked? Neither of us managed to get the kangaroo jacket, did we."

"How did you..." Stan trailed off, jaw dropped.

Bill smugly stuffed the clothing back under his tank top. "All that, and... these." Bill lifted one foot and wiggled it, showing off the yellow foam clogs he'd changed into.

"You just walked out with those on?"

"Sure! You'd be amazed what you can do in plain sight—as long as you don't call attention to it."

"Where the heck are your sandals?"

"Not my problem." Bill gestured vaguely back toward 18th Century with his curtain rod cane. "From the lost-and-found they came, to the lost-and-found they shall return."

Stan, having had his attention called to the curtain rod cane, snatched it out of Bill's hand with a muttered "No weapons," and tossed it in a nearby trash can. Bill watched it go with an expression of miffed resignation. Stan said, "Okay, but how'd you get the security tags off all of those?"

And Bill's grin was back. "Maybe I'll show you—if you show me how you got all that clothing out of those bags into your pockets."

"I thought you were watching."

"My eye is better than my physical coordination. Give me a couple pointers and I'll give you a couple."

Stan looked doubtful. "I just saw you hide half a suitcase under a tank top. I don't think you need any more help with..."

"I'll sweeten the deal," Bill said. "I'm not really a clogs guy. You set me up to walk out with a pair of proper dress shoes, and I'll help you grab a couple rings from that booth at the door?"

Stan scowled. Bill grinned wider. "Come ooon. I know you were eyeing those rings too."

"If we get caught and you throw me under the bus, I'm dragging you down with me."

"I wouldn't dream of it! I don't think either of us can afford to show up on the police's radar, do you?"

"All right, fine. You've got yourself a deal, Cipher."

Mabel silently slid her cell phone over to Dipper so he could text Soos and Ford about this unsettling development.

####

(Thanks for reading!! As always, if you made it this far I deeply appreciate any thoughts & comments you want to share! Stay tuned next week for the unsettling development to get Even Worse.)

[monsters-conquer-the-world]

OOZEPUNK

WHAT IS OOZEPUNK?

Oozepunk is the term I'm coining for the microgenre of urban heroic sci-fi horror-fantasy that first exploded in the mid-80s with movies, shows, and comics like Ghostbusters, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, The Toxic Avenger, Who Framed Roger Rabbit, Hellboy, Street Sharks, and others. Lots of natural crossover with Biopunk and Cyberpunk, aesthetically and philosophically.

Your childhood trauma didn't let you forget Roger Rabbit heavily featured colorful nightmare slime, did it?

A ragtag gang of weirdos (often horribly mutated--more on that soon) band together to save a city that doesn't understand them. Grimy sewers, abandoned buildings and graffiti'd brick walls are lit up by neon lights, streams of mysterious, glowing goo and/or the unearthly lights of futuristic particle weapons--ideally all of the above!

Beyond the "cracked concrete and gutters full of liquid plutonium" aesthetic, Oozepunk prankishly asks "What if catastrophic aberrations of science, particularly DUMPING TOXIC FUCKING WASTE STRAIGHT INTO THE ENVIRONMENT created fucked-up monsters... but they're HEROIC fucked-up monsters!" These catastrophic aberrations of science grant the heroes incredible powers, but COST them their place in human society. (Ghostbusters and Roger Rabbit eschew character mutation in favor of discovering that the undead and olde tymey cartoons are real [and exploitable!], respectively. 'Busters and 'Toon sympathizers alike are treated like insane idiots and/or frauds in their respective universes.)

Oozepunk heroes are challenged not only by strange supernatural beings, but by human society itself. The Ghostbusters battle with local politicians as much as they do the undead. In the recent (and delightful) TMNT: Mutant Mayhem, Splinter warns the Turtles of humans and their obsession with "milking" mutants for their blood--on top of the villainous mutants they're trying to thwart!

Crank up the creep factor in Oozepunk and you get awesome anti-establishment goo-horror like 1988's The Blob, The Stuff, Street Trash, and probably a bunch more. Toxic Avenger is a batshit crazy splatter-comedy (i.e. classic Troma)... and still garnered sequels, a kid's cartoon and toyline!

And there's a Shredder's Revenge-style Crusaders beat-em-up coming out next year??

This looks dope as shit

Ghostbusters and TMNT are the only current, "evergreen" (or radioactive green!) Oozepunk franchises I can think of off the top of my head, but Oozepunk elements are buried in almost all of the stories and settings I love the most. Heroic kaiju like King Kong, Godzilla and Gamera paved the way for our freaky friends, but so did comics characters like Fantastic Four's Ben "The Thing" Grimm, The Hulk and Swamp Thing. Hell, I think I blame SESAME STREET of all things for starting me down the Oozepunk path.

Surprise! I've loved screaming trash monsters with secret hearts of gold since I was a fucking baby, and they've ALWAYS been there for me!

But it's not just Oscar, Sesame Street as a whole is a proto-Oozepunk utopia, years before the big Ooze-splosion of the 80s. Muppets, monsters, talking animals and chill humans all live and work together to scrape by with a little dignity in a gritty-but-wholesome urban world!

Sesame Street, a decades-long reminder that educational childrens' programming can and SHOULD be cool as hell looking and loaded with all kinds of friendly mutant freakuloids.

OOZEPUNK! Whaddya think?

[kokoch4n3l]

DEAD GIRL'S BEACH࿐ྂ KUROKAWA IZANA x f!oc x SANO MANJIRO

ELEVEN — what was i made for?

"There's a chilling sense of control in Mr.Kurokawa's demeanour, as if he's always one step ahead, anticipating the reactions of those around him. It's as if he views the world as his own personal chessboard, with everyone else merely playing their roles." —MAYA'S ROUGH NOTES ON K.I

chapter summary: Izana gets carried away and Kakucho and Maya do damage control, bringing them right back to the start.

warnings: dark content 18+, character death, depiction of corpses, corruption, slight religious themes, suicide mention, suicide attempt, suicide ideation, self-loathing, slight hanagaki takemichi slander, scarring, bite marks, implied relapse, drug use/misuse, mentioned drug addiction, withdrawal symptoms for unnamed drug, possibly unrealistic/inaccurate withdrawal care, possessive!izana, betrayal, mentions of past torture methods(noncon drugging, waterboarding, noncon, noncon waxplay, first degree burns), emotional manipulation, mental health issues, MAJOR dubcon, unprotected sex, no prep, piv, making out, nipple play, hair pulling(m), multiple orgasms, tummy bulge, creampie, implied cockwarming, implied dissociation, aftercare, possessive!manjiro, noncon, mirror sex, coercion, forced orgasms, hair pulling(f)

word count: 13774

masterlist | previous | chapter 12

Naoto often thinks about Maya. When he starts thinking about her, he doesn't stop. He thinks about her death, goes through the evidence over and over and doesn't stop till Hinata tells him that it was enough. But just how was he to explain to his sister that things didn't add up with Maya's death when the only answer he'll get from Hinata is: "You're looking too deep into it... I know you liked her but you're feeling guilty... that's all"

His poor sweet sister. Hinata had no idea she was hanging out with people that are affiliated with the gang that caused her death in 5 other timelines. Naoto is frustrated and there is no one he can confide in. Alone with his thoughts, Naoto finds himself consumed by a sense of helplessness, a gnawing frustration at his inability to uncover the truth and protect those he cares about. Maya's memory haunts him, her death a stark reminder of the dangers lurking beneath the surface of their seemingly ordinary lives.

As Naoto meticulously pores over the evidence from the scene of Maya's supposed suicide, his keen eyes catch a crucial detail that sends a chill down his spine. In the photographs of Maya's charred remains, one glaring absence stands out—a distinct lack of the necklaces she always wore. Furrowing his brow, Naoto zooms in on the images, scrutinizing every pixel for any sign of the delicate chains that adorned Maya's neck without fail. But no matter how closely he looks, there's no trace of it, not even a glimmer in the ashes.

It's a discrepancy that can't be ignored. Maya cherished those necklaces— they were real gold. She wore it every day, never once removing it so why wouldn't it be here or in the evidence or among her stuff recovered from the apartment she booked? Maya fucking loved those necklaces so there was no way she wouldn't be wearing them.

The realization hits Naoto like a ton of bricks. This isn't just an oversight—it's a deliberate omission, a glaring inconsistency that casts doubt on the official narrative surrounding Maya's death. With a sinking feeling in his gut, Naoto realizes the implications of this omission. If Maya's necklace isn't among the evidence, then it's possible that her death wasn't a suicide at all—it could have been staged.

As he sifts through the photos once more, Naoto's mind races with possibilities. Was Maya's death orchestrated to look like a suicide? And if so, who would go to such lengths to cover up the truth? The pieces of the puzzle start to come together in Naoto's mind. Kurokawa Izana was discharged the same day the hospital director of Sunshine Grove reigned and disappeared off the face of the earth, the other employees resigning and disappearing as well and that day being the last Maya is seen. But who would benefit from Maya's death, and why?

Could Kurokawa Izana be connected to Maya's disappearance? And if so, what role did he play in her supposed death?

But as Naoto considers the pieces of the puzzle, a new, daring possibility takes root in his mind. What if Maya isn't actually dead? What if she's still out there, waiting to be found?

The idea ignites a spark of hope within Naoto, driving him to redouble his efforts in unravelling the truth behind Maya's disappearance. With determination burning in his heart, he sets out to follow this new lead, determined to uncover the fate of the woman who has captured his thoughts and haunted his dreams.

(At this point, no one could be trusted. Not even Matsuno Chifuyu and Hanemiya Kazutora. Anyone wit affiliations with the Tokyo Manji gang, whether present or past, was now a threat.)

Maya's mother was a surgeon and her father was a mechanical engineer. They weren't exactly religious either. Maya wonders if they were, would she be going through this?  As Maya ponders her parents' professions and lack of religious affiliation, a wave of nostalgia washes over her. Memories of her childhood flood back, painting vivid scenes of her family's home and the moments they shared together. Her father, with his tinkering tools and inventive mind, would regale her with tales of his latest engineering projects, sparking her curiosity and igniting her imagination. Their home was a sanctuary—a place of warmth, love, and acceptance. Maya was free to explore her interests, pursue her dreams, and chart her own course in life. It was a far cry from the dark and twisted world she finds herself trapped in now. But as Maya reflects on her upbringing, a sense of longing creeps into her heart. She yearns for the safety and security of her parents' embrace, for the comfort of their words and the strength of their presence.

She feels worse as she realizes she no longer remembers what their faces looked like or how their voices sounded. It had been so long since her father's passing and her mother's suicide. She was 13 then and now she's 22. As Maya grapples with the weight of her memories, a profound sense of loss settles over her like a heavy blanket. The passage of time has blurred the lines between reality and remembrance, erasing the sharp edges of her parents' faces and the cadence of their voices from her mind. She closes her eyes, trying in vain to conjure up their images, to recall the sound of their laughter and the warmth of their embraces. But all she finds is an empty void— a void filled with echoes of the past, faint whispers of a time long gone. At this point, she might as well have been an orphan all her life.

But her parents loved her of course.

Her father loved her.

Her mother loved her.

But her mother didn't love her enough to stay alive after the passing of her husband.

Maya had never been enough for anyone— not even her own parents. Part of her hates Chifuyu. Just why did he have to be at the park the evening she was going to kill herself? Dying would have saved her from a whole bunch of pain. She wouldn't have lost her virginity to Chifuyu and been rejected, she wouldn't have been drugged, and she wouldn't have been kidnapped out of her fucking workplace, waterboarded, tortured, burned, and then betrayed by a false saviour.

No one in this stupid beach house had made anything easier for her. Not Izana, not Mikey, not even Kakucho.

Kakucho had seemed like a healer at first— reviving her after Izana drowned her, constantly patching her back together, helping her with the burns on her back. But at the end of the day, he was still a gangster, he was still Izana's closest aid, and he was still the dark knight. Not her knight in shining armour but Izana's dark knight with dented and bloody armour.

Kakucho is not a friend and might as well be someone involved in Izana's ploys of breaking down her spirit and betraying her. Maya could care less about who Kakucho thinks she's like. She isn't that guy. She's her own person. She refuses to let Kakucho's nostalgia for whatever childhood friend he lost shape her future or how and why she runs from Mikey and Izana. That other guy that ran just seemed like a damn coward. Running because he didn't like where Tokyo Manji Gang was headed, running even though he had so much influence over Sano "Mikey" Manjiro, running when there was no actual threat to his life.

Maya hates him.

She hates him, Kakucho, Izana and Mikey.

Fuck all of them.

Fuck that motherfucker, fuck Kakucho, fuck Izana, fuck Mikey, fuck Chifuyu, fuck Kazutora, fuck the Tokyo Fucking Manji Gang. She hates all of them and hopes they all go to hell. She hates them all for making them feel this way.

She always had so much love but nowhere to put it. It's as if she's been searching for something or someone to share her love with, but each time she reaches out, she's met with rejection or betrayal. Whenever there is someone to love, they suck it out of her greedily. Just keeping taking and taking and taking till there's nothing left to take. Maybe it's her own fault. She wore her heart out on her sleeve and just gave love to everyone that wanted it. Why did being kind and loving only give her pain in return? Why did everyone like to only take from her?

Why is it that she never learned her lesson after getting he heart torn out over and over.

"Maya..." Kakucho is at the door of the master bedroom

It's early in the morning, about 9:30 am, she feels like actual shit even after showering. The bite mark on her shoulder from Izana has healed but it will scar. "Yes?" She asks

Mikey was still out with Sanzu for some business thing. Apparently, he'd be returning either today or tomorrow. "Uh well..." Kakucho looks nervous and stressed

His hair is a mess and he's wearing his glasses. He wasn't even dressed yet. "So uh... Izana is having withdrawals..."

Maya's eye twitches in annoyance, her inner doctor coming back after so long. "and who's amazing idea was it to give drugs to a recently recovered addict?"

Kakucho just shifts uncomfortablely. "please can you just... can you come help me? You're a psychiatrist and you helped him before at the other hospital... You can do it now too"

Maya's muscles tense as Kakucho's words sink in, her frustration bubbling to the surface. Dealing with Izana's withdrawals is the last thing she wants to do, especially after the ordeal she's been through herself. But she knows she can't ignore Kakucho's plea, no matter how inconvenient it may be. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Maya meets Kakucho's gaze with a resigned expression. "Fine," she concedes reluctantly. "I'll help."

As they make their way towards Izana's room, Maya can't shake the feeling of dread settling in her stomach. Dealing with Izana in this state is bound to be challenging, to say the least. But Maya knows she has to do whatever it takes to prevent the situation from worsening. Maybe she doesn't like him but as a doctor, she has an obligation. As she steps out of the master bedroom she realizes this was the first time she had been out of the room. The house was decorated similarly to Mikey's bedroom with huge windows displaying the beach outside and just an overall homey feel. She never thought a place like this would be her prison. Kakucho leads her to Izana's room and Maya hesitates. She could run now. She really could. There was no one else here but her poor weak heart would just feel too much guilt.

stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid she keeps thinking as she enters Izana's room. The blinds and curtains were drawn and the lights were off. There is a lump under the covers and if she looked close enough Maya could see it trembling. She hadn't been present for the start of when Izana was admitted into Sunshine Grove. She didn't know what his withdrawal symptoms were or how he was doing through it. She was only there during the detox. This right here, was new territory. "what are his symptoms?" Maya asks quietly to Kakucho

"um... similar to yours but no hot flashes. Just cold and he's got really bad mood swings" Kakucho says looking really nervous "Headaches, he threw up earlier... Uh... He was hungry..."

Maya nods and reluctantly walks over to Izana and kneels on the bed next to the lump under the comforter he is under. She feels a knot form in her stomach as she realizes the weight of the situation she's stepping into. This isn't just about providing medical care; it's about navigating the delicate balance of emotions and power dynamics that exist between her and Izana. Gathering her resolve, Maya gently pulled back the covers to reveal Izana curled up beneath them. His breathing is shallow and uneven, his face drawn with discomfort. Despite her own reservations, Maya can't help but feel a pang of sympathy for him in this vulnerable state.

Oh god did she feel so stupid.

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Maya reaches out to brush a lock of white hair away from Izana's forehead. His skin feels clammy to the touch, and she can sense the tension radiating from his body. "Hey," Maya murmurs softly, her voice barely above a whisper

Izana's response is a low, guttural groan as he shifts restlessly beneath the covers. Maya sighs inwardly, steeling herself for the challenges that lie ahead. This won't be easy. She flinches when he suddenly grabs her hand and presses it to his cheek. He shudders and mumbles something unintelligible under his breath. Maya watches as he curls into himself, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Had she been like Izana, she would have made him beg like he did to her. But she isn't like Izana so instead she asks "Does your head hurt?"

As Maya waits for a response, she can see the struggle playing out on Izana's face. His brows furrow in discomfort, his teeth chattering slightly as he curls tighter under the covers. She senses his agitation, the chill seeping into his bones and exacerbating his withdrawal symptoms. Finally, Izana manages a hoarse denial, his voice strained. "N-No," he stammers, his breath coming out in shaky puffs. "I'm f-feeling really f-fucking c-cold."

Maya's heart aches at his words, her empathy for him warring with the lingering resentment she harbours. Before Maya could say anything, Izana suddenly sat up and pulled off his hoodie, throwing it to the floor and leaving him in just a white undershirt. "Izana what are you—"

Before Kakucho can even finish his sentence, Izana is pulling Maya down onto the bed, laying on top of her. "H-Hey—" she tries to say

"Shut up" Izana mutters, his face buried into the crook of her neck "You're warm"

Maya's initial instinct is to push him away, to resist his sudden closeness, but she finds herself frozen in place as Izana's weight presses down on her. His warmth envelops her, a stark contrast to the coldness that had gripped him moments ago."Izana, this isn't—" Maya tries, but her protest is cut short by another one of Izana's hushed commands.

His words send a shiver down her spine, but she can't deny the underlying vulnerability in his tone. For a moment, Maya hesitates, unsure of how to respond to Izana's unexpected gesture. A big part of her wants to push him away, belittle and humiliate him the same way he did to her but... Maya was too weak. She couldn't get herself to do that to him and Maya hated herself for it. Instead, she avoids Kakucho's gaze and pulls the blanket further up Izana's shoulders, covering his bare arms and his exposed shoulders. "Do you... Need anything?" Kakucho asks slowly

"No..." Is all Maya says

Kakucho nods and leaves. A shudder goes through Izana as he clings to Maya tight. She goes stiff when his hands slide under her shirt and rest on her ribs. His skin is cold to the touch. Maya wants to belittle him. She wants to make him beg. She wants to humiliate him. But she can't get herself to and it's probably the worst feeling ever. She was never an eye for an eye person. She wasn't like that. Maya was too nice for her own good, even at her own expense. So instead of doing all the horrible things she wishes to do, Maya wraps her arms around Izana's shoulders, running the nails of one hand up and down the back of his neck. Izana sighs and just rests all his weight on her.

In the quiet of the room, Maya finds herself grappling with conflicting emotions. She's torn between the desire to protect herself and the innate compassion that compels her to offer comfort to Izana in his time of need. It's a battle she's fought countless times before, and yet, each time, it leaves her feeling conflicted and uncertain. But as she feels Izana's breath steady against her skin, his grip loosening ever so slightly as he starts to fall asleep on top of her, Maya finds herself relenting to the quiet intimacy of the moment. With a heavy heart, Maya resigns herself to the role of reluctant caretaker, knowing that she's bound by duty to tend to Izana's needs, even as she struggles to reconcile her conflicting emotions. And as they lie entwined in the darkness, Maya can't help but wonder how they ended up here, bound together by threads of fate and circumstance, their destinies intertwined in ways they never could have imagined.

She's just there, in his bed, crushed under all his body weight, pinned between him and the mattress with his cold hands under her shirt looking for warmth and face in the crook on her neck. She shifts slightly, trying to find a more comfortable position beneath him, but his grip remains firm, holding her in place against the mattress. The intimacy of the moment hangs heavy in the air, the warmth of their bodies mingling in the confined space of the bed. Maya can feel the steady rhythm of Izana's breath against her skin, the soft brush of his lips against the curve of her neck sending shivers down her spine.

Despite the tangled mess of emotions swirling within her, Maya finds herself instinctively running her fingers through Izana's hair, the strands soft against her touch. With each gentle stroke, she feels a strange sense of calm wash over her, a fleeting moment of peace amidst the chaos that surrounds them. Izana lets out a low, contented sigh at her touch, his grip on her softening ever so slightly. His breath tickles the sensitive skin of her neck as he nuzzles closer, seeking solace in her warmth. It isn't long till the shivering stops and he has fallen asleep, completely lax on top of her and crushing her with his weight. He's pressing down on her ribs and it's hard to breathe but Maya doesn't dare complain.

They come back a full circle.

Izana as the patient and Maya as the doctor.

This time, there was no pristine white doctor's coat, secure rooms with magnetic locks, CCTV cameras or security guards— only this time, she knew what was wrong with him.

There was just Maya and Izana and her all-too-soft heart.

"Why did you cut your hair?" Izana asks, lazily twirling a short curly strand of Maya's hair between his fingers

Hours later he was awake and was making no move to get off her. Maya hesitates for a moment, caught off guard by the unexpected question. She shifts slightly beneath Izana's weight, the pressure of his body against hers a constant reminder of their closeness. "I... I needed a change" she replies softly, her fingers still idly tracing patterns on the back of his neck.

Izana hums in response, his grip on her tightening ever so slightly. His other hand is still under her shirt, no longer cold thanks to her body heat. "Is it 'cause Matsuno broke your heart?" He asks casually "I heard girls cut their hair when they get their heart broken"

Maya's breath catches in her throat at the mention of Chifuyu. She hadn't expected Izana to bring him up, especially not in this vulnerable moment. How is it that Izana is still vying for control even while he's so vulnerable? She closes her eyes briefly, gathering her thoughts before responding. "Yes..." there was no point in lying to him when he already knew the truth— having forced it out of her weeks ago "I wanted to forget everything Chifuyu said about me so I cut my hair... Someone once told me hair holds memory so I cut it and then I felt better..."

Maya's admission hangs heavy in the air, the weight of her words settling between them like an unspoken truth. Izana's fingers pause in their gentle exploration of her hair, his gaze searching hers with a mixture of curiosity and something else she can't quite decipher. "I see," he murmurs, his tone neutral but his eyes betraying a hint of something deeper "But I have to admit, I liked your hair long much better. It suited you. I was pretty disappointed when I saw you cut it so short"

Maya's heart flutters nervously at Izana's unexpected confession, his words stirring up a whirlwind of conflicting emotions within her. She hadn't anticipated him expressing any sentiment about her appearance, let alone disappointment over her haircut she did herself weeks ago. It's a strange sensation, hearing him speak so candidly about something as trivial as her hair when there are far weightier matters hanging between them. "Sorry to disappoint," Maya murmurs, a faint hint of sarcasm lacing her words as she avoids meeting his gaze or just looking down at him in general while he's lying on her chest

She's acutely aware of the warmth of his body pressed against hers, the way his fingers linger in her hair, and it's all she can do to keep her composure in the face of such unexpected intimacy. Izana chuckles softly, the sound sending a shiver down Maya's spine. "No need to apologize," he replies, his tone light but tinged with something that feels uncomfortably like possessiveness "but don't cut it again, alright? I want you to grow it out long"

That wasn't a suggestion but a demand. Maya's heart sinks as she recalls the promise she made to Izana, the weight of it settling heavily on her shoulders. She had vowed to be his, to submit to his desires, and in that moment, it felt like there was no escaping the hold he had over her. With a resigned sigh, she nods slowly, her voice barely above a whisper as she agrees to grow her hair out. "Okay," she murmurs, her tone heavy with defeat as she concedes to Izana's demand. "I'll grow it out."

Izana's grip on her hair loosens slightly, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips as he leans back, his gaze lingering on her with a possessive gleam. "Good girl" he purrs, his words sending a shiver down Maya's spine

She wonders just how absolutely shameless this guy could be. Just hours before he was shivering and trembling, desperately curling into her arms for warmth and now he was being a little shit again as if none of it happened. Izana shifts himself more so he's fully on top of her again, crushing her ribs, knocking the breath out of her lungs, his thigh pressed between her legs. "You're so sweet to me, y'know that bunny" Izana murmurs, his face in Maya's neck again, lips brushing against her skin "Came here to take care of me... So sweet"

Maya's breath catches in her throat as Izana's weight presses down on her, his closeness suffocating yet strangely comforting. She can feel the heat radiating off his body, the tension in his muscles palpable against her skin. Despite the discomfort of his position, Maya finds herself unable to push him away, her resolve weakening under the weight of his words. "I... I just want to help," she stammers, her voice barely above a whisper as she struggles to maintain her composure.

The intimacy of the moment leaves her feeling exposed and vulnerable, her heart racing with a mixture of fear and uncertainty. Izana's lips brush against the sensitive skin of her neck, sending shivers down Maya's spine as she tries to suppress a gasp. His touch is both electrifying and terrifying, a potent reminder of the power he holds over her. "You're so good to me, bunny," he murmurs, his voice low and husky against her skin. "So sweet."

He goes still again after that. His lips just rest against the curve of her neck. They're both silent again and if it wasn't for Izana's fingers rubbing circles into her ribs, Maya would have thought he was asleep. Izana's hands ignite a firestorm inside her. Had this situation been any different, she would have craved it— craved him. But it's not an ideal situation, this danger. "Hey bunny..." Izana murmurs

"Yeah?"

"How did you feel when Matsuno broke your heart?"

It's an odd question, something she didn't expect him to ask her. "I was sad"

"Yeah fuckin' obviously. But what did you feel?" Izana moves himself, his hands on either side of her head as he's now hovering over her face

She's staring up at him. He isn't his usual golden-tanned colour due to the utter shit he was going through due to the withdrawal. His breath is hitting her lips. He isn't so close to her face but it feels like he is. "I felt like shit... I didn't wanna come to work that day but they wouldn't give me a day off" Maya says quietly

Izana brushes a curly strand away from her forehead. "hm... So you came late that day 'cause you got your heartbroken...?"

"Would you want to come to work if the person you liked for years broke your heart?" Maya counters back

Izana's gaze softens, his fingers tracing a gentle path along Maya's jawline as he considers her question. "No, I suppose not," he admits, a hint of vulnerability creeping into his voice. "But I don't have the luxury of letting my emotions dictate my actions. I have responsibilities."

Maya can sense the weight of Izana's words, the burden of his role as the number 3 of the Tokyo Manji Gang weighing heavily on his shoulders. She knows all too well the pressure he faces, the constant need to maintain control and uphold his image of strength and authority. Even being in a gang is hard work she supposes. "I understand," she replies softly, reaching her hands up, her fingers threading through the strands of his hair as she tries to offer him comfort.

Despite everything, she can't help but feel a twinge of sympathy for him, a glimpse of the vulnerability beneath his tough exterior. Izana leans into her touch, his eyes closing briefly as he savors the warmth of her embrace. "Thank you, bunny," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. "For being here."

Her eyes widen at his words, not at all having expected him to say that. He's saying that as if she choose to be in this damn beach house. No wait. Izana mean thanks for taking care of him. It's odd. Seeing him suddenly be so vulnerable. Just what did he want from her this time? What stupid trick was he playing on her? But she doesn't ask, and instead says "how are you feeling now?"

His skin isn't that cold anymore but he's still very clearly feeling like shit. "I've been better"

She isn't too sure what else to say, going stiff when his thigh presses against her crotch. "D-Do you want me to make you something to eat?"

Izana presses his forehead against her's and sighs quietly. He takes one of Maya's hands and laces their fingers together, pinning it down beside her head. He's acting sweet. Izana has been acting this way ever since he revealed that Mikey was lying to her— since the day Maya promised to be his. Maya's heart pounds in her chest as Izana's actions send a jolt of unease through her. She can't shake the feeling that there's something more to his sudden change in demeanor, something lurking beneath the surface that she can't quite grasp. She watches as Izana's eyes search hers, a hint of vulnerability shining in their depths. "Izana..." Maya begins, her voice barely above a whisper as she struggles to find the right words.

But before she can say anything else, he leans in closer, his lips hovering just inches from hers. "Stay with me," he murmurs, his breath warm against her skin as his forehead stays against hers. "Just for a little while longer."

With a silent sigh, Maya relents, allowing herself to be drawn into the web of Izana's embrace once more. He's being sweet, somewhat, he won't be like this for long. Maya can't help but wonder— if Izana had played the long game with her the same way Mikey did, would she have felt just as betrayed as she did when finding out what Mikey had done? Would Maya have felt her heart shatter the same way? She isn't able to look away from his orchid eyes as she brings her free hand up to his hair, tangling in the white strands. After a while Izana moved his head back away from her so he could look at her face properly then said "You're gorgeous. Have I ever told you that?"

That was unexpected. Her fingers stay tangled in his hair. "Well... You call me a lot of things"

"I feel a lot of things for you too" Izana admits

She's silent for a moment, her nails gently scratching against his scalp. "Is that why you won't let me go?"

"Yes... I'm greedy... I want you for myself"

"I know" Her voice comes out as a small, breathless whisper before she says "Would you like something to eat? You need something to be eating properly while recovering"

Izana takes the hand he's holding and kisses the back of it. Maya isn't too sure how to react. These were the things Mikey did to her, not Izana. Izana was calculated words, control, the need for dominance and control, he was fear and terror and uncertainty. Maya didn't know Izana could be like this and she isn't sure if she likes it better, especially after Mikey. Oh god, Mikey didn't even know that she knew yet. He hadn't been back home since Izana revealed the truth to her. "Yes... I'd like that" Izana says then moves off her

Izana is no longer crushing her ribs but it still feels like she can't breathe.

The sun is shining through the large windows of the beach house. Maya is cooking, stirring the pot of soup. Kakucho is sitting on the bar stool in front of the kitchen island with an unknown expression on his face. Izana on the other hand, is standing behind her, arms around her waist and his chin hooked over her shoulder. He's holding her like he's her lover and Maya really isn't sure how to feel. Maya can feel Izana's warmth enveloping her, his presence both comforting and suffocating at the same time. She tries to focus on the task at hand, stirring the soup with more force than necessary, trying to ignore the way his arms tighten around her waist. Kakucho's gaze flickers between Maya and Izana, a mixture of concern and uncertainty evident in his expression. He opens his mouth as if to speak, but then closes it again, seemingly unable to find the right words to say. As the silence stretches between them, Maya can't help but feel a sense of unease settling over her. This domestic scene feels foreign and surreal, a far cry from the chaos and violence that usually surrounds her. She wonders if this is just another one of Izana's games, another way to exert his control over her. "I fuckin' hate vegetables so this better be good" Izana mutters, his hands slipping under her shirt to rest on her bare lower stomach

She can feel the heat of his hands against her skin, his fingers tracing idle patterns on her stomach, sending a shiver down her spine. His skin is no longer cold but it might as well be with the way he's making her feel. "It will be... You can take my word for it" Maya replies quietly

Kakucho shifts uncomfortably in his seat, clearing his throat awkwardly. "Uh, maybe I should help with something else," he suggests, looking for an excuse to leave and not be a third-wheel

But before Kakucho can make a move, Izana tightens his grip on Maya's waist, his touch bordering on possessive. "No, you stay right there," he says, his tone laced with a hint of warning.

Maya's heart sinks at the possessive edge in Izana's voice. With a heavy sigh, Maya focuses on stirring the soup. "U-Uh Kakucho you can take out the bowls" she says, in hopes of making the situation a little lighter

Kakucho nods, grateful for the chance to escape the palpable tension in the kitchen. He quickly stands up, grabbing a few bowls from the cupboard and setting them out on the counter. "Sure thing," he says, his voice a bit strained as he busies himself with the task.

Meanwhile, Izana's grip on Maya tightens slightly, his fingers digging into her waist possessively. "You're mine, aren't you?" he murmurs, his breath warm against her ear.

Maya's heart skips a beat at his words, a mixture of fear and uncertainty swirling inside her. She doesn't know how to respond, torn between the promise she made to Izana and the lingering doubts in her mind. "I... I don't know," she admits quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Izana's hold softens slightly, his touch gentler as he leans back to look at her. "You said you are," he says, his gaze intense as he searches her eyes for any sign of resistance "You told me you'd be mine so are you still mine?"

Maya's heart pounds with conflicting emotions as Izana's grip tightens around her waist. She felt the weight of her promise pressing down on her, the words she uttered in a moment of weakness now binding her to him. Despite the uncertainty swirling in her mind, she knows that she can't go back on her word. "I... I am," Maya whispers, her voice barely audible above the sound of her own racing heartbeat

The admission feels like a betrayal to herself, but she knows that denying Izana now would only lead to more pain and turmoil. Izana's expression softens slightly, a hint of satisfaction flickering in his eyes as he leans in closer. "Good girl," he murmurs, his breath warm against her ear. "You belong to me, bunny. Don't ever forget that."

Maya just hums, not knowing what else to say. Izana presses a kiss to her ear and she resists the urge to shiver. "Uh... Sanzu texted. Said he and Mikey will be here tomorrow morning" Kakucho says

Maya's heart sinks at the mention of Mikey's impending return, a mixture of apprehension and uncertainty swirling inside her. She knows that his presence will only complicate things further, adding another layer of tension to the already fragile dynamic between her and Izana. "Great," Izana mutters, his tone laced with irritation, burying his face in Maya's hair "Just what we need..."

Maya's stomach churns at the thought of facing Mikey again, her mind flooded with memories of their complicated history together. She knows that their reunion will inevitably bring up painful emotions and unresolved issues, and she's not sure if she's ready to confront them. She doesn't know if she'll be able to pretend that she doesn't know he was lying to her. Oh god, Maya thinks she'll be sick.

Soup was soon ready and Maya finished eating first. She excuses herself and goes back to the master bedroom— Mikey's room. Alone in Mikey's room, Maya sinks onto the edge of the bed, her thoughts swirling with a tangled mess of emotions. The familiar surroundings offer little solace as she wrestles with the conflicting feelings that weigh heavily on her heart. She stares at the view of the beach in front of her and stands up. She stands in front of the double doors, staring at the beach past the deck. The waves crash against the shore. Unconsciously, her hand comes up to the doorknob. She knows it's probably locked but just as she's about to twist it, the door swings open, revealing Kakucho standing there, his expression unreadable. Without a word, he steps into the room, closing the door behind him. Standing beside Maya, he joins her in staring out at the beach, the rhythmic sound of the waves filling the room. "you okay?" Kakucho asks as Maya lets go of the doorknob

Maya nods stiffly. "Yeah... 'm fine"

A moment of silence washes over them but only for a moment. "Maya about what I said to you..." Kakucho starts "About running..."

She looks at him. "yeah?"

"Stay."

She furrows her brows in confusion. "W-What?"

Kakucho rubs the back of his neck, a look of guilt in his eyes. "Stay with Izana. Stop trying to run"

Maya's heart sank as Kakucho's words hit her like a heavy blow. The sense of betrayal wells up inside her, mingling with frustration and confusion. Just a few days ago he told her he believed in her that she could get away just like that guy that did years ago. So why did he change his mind? "Why?" she asks, her voice trembling with emotion.

Kakucho meets her gaze with a solemn expression, his eyes reflecting a mixture of regret and concern. "Izana wants you and... and you're good for him"

"But what about me?" she demands, her voice cracking with emotion. "What about what I want?"

This wasn't fair. This wasn't fucking fair. Why was this happening to her? It felt like she was being robbed of her agency, forced to sacrifice her own desires for the sake of someone else's happiness. It wasn't fair. None of this was fair. Kakucho's expression softens, his gaze filled with empathy as he reaches out a hand to gently touch Maya's shoulder. "I know it's hard, Maya. But sometimes, we have to make sacrifices for the greater good" he says softly, his voice tinged with sadness.

Maya pulls away from his touch, her fists clenched in frustration. "And what about my happiness? What about what I need?" she challenges, her voice trembling with emotion "There is no greater good in this situation, just a fucking sociopath that wants a pet and that pet happens to be me"

Kakucho's eyes widened, a conflict evident in his expression as Maya's words pierced through him. He took a deep breath, mustering the courage to speak. "Maya, I... I can't let you leave," he admitted, his voice wavering with uncertainty. "I care more for Izana than I do for my own morality."

Maya's heart sank at his confession, feeling the weight of his words bearing down on her. She struggled to comprehend how someone she trusted could prioritize the well-being of another over her own autonomy. "So, what? I'm just supposed to sacrifice my happiness for yours and Izana's?" she retorted, her voice tinged with bitterness.

Kakucho's gaze faltered, guilt flickering across his features. "I know it's not fair to ask this of you," he began, his tone heavy with remorse. "But Izana... he's not in a good place right now. He needs you, Maya. And I... I need to protect him, even if it means making difficult choices."

Maya's fists clenched at her sides, frustration boiling inside her. She felt trapped, suffocated by the weight of Kakucho's expectations. "That's not fair... That's not fucking fair" Maya says angrily "I got drugged and kidnapped right out of my workplace, drugged again, waterboarded and drowned—"

"Maya" Kakucho tries cutting her off but she just keeps going

"—drugged till I was addicted, went through withdrawals, taken against my will multiple times"

"Maya"

"got hot wax poured down my back, had first-degree burns on my back all while I was going through withdrawals," She says, her eyes teary now "Just why should I stay for him, when all he's done is hurt me?"

Kakucho's expression softened, his gaze filled with sorrow as he listened to Maya's anguished cries. He reached out a hand to gently touch her shoulder, offering what little comfort he could in the face of her pain. "I'm sorry, Maya," he murmured, his voice heavy with remorse. "I know it's not fair, but Izana... he's not well. He needs help, and you're the only one who can give it to him."

Maya shook her head, her heart heavy with the weight of her suffering. "But what about me?" she whispered, her voice barely above a sob. "What about my pain? Who's going to help me heal?"

There was a moment of agonizing silence as Kakucho struggled to find the words to comfort her. He knew there were no easy answers, no simple solutions to the pain she had endured. All he could do was offer his support and hope that Maya would find the strength to persevere. "I wish I had an answer, Maya," he admitted softly. "But all I can offer you is my support. I'll be here for you, no matter what."

"no, you won't Kakucho..." She whispers

He doesn't answer after that and only sighs. Maya watches Kakucho reach into his pocket and pull out a key. Maya watches in silence as he puts it into the keyhole and she hears it... lock? Her heart drops at the realization that the door has been unlocked this whole time. "W-What?" she whispers

Her freedom was right there. It was right there and now it was... gone. Her freedom was right there. It was within reach, tantalizingly close, and now it was slipping through her fingers, lost to the cruel whims of fate. The realization hit her like a wave crashing against the shore, overwhelming her with a sense of helplessness and despair. "It was unlocked this whole time?" she choked out, her voice trembling with emotion.

Kakucho's gaze remained fixed on the door, his expression unreadable. "I'm sorry, Maya," he murmured, his voice heavy with regret. "I can't let you leave. Not now."

Maya's heart pounded in her chest, panic clawing at the edges of her consciousness. She felt trapped, suffocated by the confines of the room, with no escape in sight. Tears welled up in her eyes as she struggled to contain the flood of emotions threatening to consume her. "Please," she pleaded, her voice barely audible. "Let me go."

But Kakucho remained silent, his gaze fixed on the locked door, his decision final as he left the room. And as Maya sank to the floor, her spirit broken and her hope extinguished, she knew that her fight for freedom had come to an agonizing end.

"what cha' thinkin' 'bout?" Izana asks

He's lying on top of her again, his weight pressing down on her ribs, not letting her breathe properly. Maya's heart skipped a beat as Izana's voice broke through her thoughts, pulling her back to the suffocating reality of the present moment. She swallowed hard, her throat feeling dry as she struggled to find the right words to respond. "Nothing," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes fixed on the ceiling above.

But Izana wasn't one to accept evasive answers. He shifted slightly, his weight bearing down on her even more as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against her ear. "You're lying," he accused softly, his tone tinged with amusement.

Maya tensed beneath him, the weight of his body pressing down on her making it difficult to think. "I... I was just... thinking about everything," she admitted reluctantly, her voice barely audible. "About... about how we got here, I guess."

Izana hummed in response, his fingers idly tracing patterns on her stomach. "You're mine now, Maya," he murmured, his voice sending shivers down her spine. "And I'm not letting you go."

Maya's heart sank as she heard Izana's possessive declaration, his words a stark reminder of the chains that bound her to him. She closed her eyes, a heavy weight settling in the pit of her stomach as she whispered softly "I know."

A short silence washes over them, Izana's face resting in the crook of her neck again. He had a headache earlier which made him pretty fucking irritable but now it was gone. "Izana..." she says quietly

"hm?" his lips created a slight vibration against the curve of her neck

"What if I didn't come to work that day? What if I just stayed home that day and didn't show up to the hospital?" Maya asks him, her fingers tangled in his white hair

Izana's response is a low, contemplative hum as he shifts slightly, his breath warm against Maya's skin. "If you hadn't shown up that day..." he begins, his voice trailing off for a moment as he gathers his thoughts. "Well, things would've been different, wouldn't they?"

Maya's heart clenches at his vague response, a flood of uncertainty washing over her. She had expected him to offer some reassurance or clarity, but his words only served to deepen the sense of unease gnawing at her conscience. "Different how?" she presses, her voice tinged with apprehension.

Izana's grip on her tightens slightly, his fingers tracing idle patterns on her back as he considers his response. "I suppose we'll never know, bunny," he murmurs cryptically, his tone betraying a hint of amusement. "But even if you didn't show up, I would've brought you here anyway... Would've dragged you out of your little house."

Maya's breath catches in her throat at Izana's words, a chill creeping down her spine at the realization of just how little control she had over her own fate. She had always suspected that Izana's intentions toward her were far from benign, but hearing him admit it so casually sent a shiver of fear coursing through her veins.

"You would've... dragged me here?" she echoes, her voice barely above a whisper, her mind reeling with the implications of his words.

Izana's grip on her tightens even more, his touch bordering on possessive as he presses his lips against the sensitive skin of her neck. "Of course, bunny," he purrs, his breath hot against her skin "It wouldn't have been as fun as chasing you through the hospital but you would've been here with me"

Maya doesn't know why she expected a different answer from Izana when she already well knows how this crazy bitch thinks. After all, she's seen firsthand the lengths he's willing to go to get what he wants. But knowing doesn't make it any easier to accept the reality of her situation. "It was cruel of you to do that all that the same day I got my heart broken" Maya mumbles, trying to lighten the situation

Izana chuckles softly, the sound sending a shiver down Maya's spine. "Cruelty is my specialty, bunny," he replies, his voice dripping with amusement. "Besides, it's not like I planned for Matsuno to break your heart that day. It just happened to work out in my favour."

Maya forces a weak smile, trying to play along with Izana's twisted sense of humour. "Lucky me" she mutters under her breath, her attempt at levity falling flat in the oppressive atmosphere

A thought passes through her head and then she asks "What about Mikey?"

"Manjiro? What about him?" he replies, fingers tracing circles on her ribs again

"What will he think about all this?" Maya clarifies 

Izana's fingers pause their motion, his expression turning slightly contemplative at Maya's question. "He's got his own world to worry about," he replies nonchalantly, his touch resuming its gentle circles on Maya's ribs. "Trust me, he won't mind."

Maya's brow furrows in concern, uncertainty gnawing at her. "why won't he mind?"

Mikey seemed like the possessive type— even more than Izana was. So just why wouldn't he mind? Izana chuckles softly, the sound carrying a hint of amusement as he meets Maya's gaze with an enigmatic smile. "Because, bunny, you're mine and Manjiro is mine too"

Maya's brow furrows further, confusion evident in her expression as she tries to decipher Izana's cryptic words. "What do you mean, we're both yours?" she asks, her voice tinged with uncertainty

But that's when it hit her. Izana saw her as a pet, a possession. Something to own. She was a toy for him to play with. Izana saw Mikey the exact same way. Mikey was a toy for Izana to play with, the same way Maya was a pet for him. As the pieces of the puzzle fall into place, Maya's heart sinks with the weight of understanding. Izana's twisted game becomes clearer, his manipulation extending beyond just her. She recalls faint memories, fragments of conversations heard through the haze of drugs and confusion. Izana's whispers poisoning Mikey's mind, turning him into a pawn in his cruel game. The realization hits her like a punch to the gut. Izana saw them both as objects to manipulate, to control, to possess. Mikey, his own brother, is reduced to nothing more than a pawn in his relentless pursuit of power and dominance. Anger simmers beneath the surface of Maya's composure, fueled by betrayal and indignation. How could Izana be so callous, so cold-blooded, to toy with the lives of those closest to him? And how could Mikey, blinded by loyalty or perhaps ignorance, allow himself to become ensnared in his brother's web of deceit? Mikey may have lied to her but what if she wasn't looking deeper into it? What if there was more to Mikey's lies that Izana hadn't told her about? But she holds back these thoughts, feeling even more sick as she keeps thinking and decides to change the subject. "Why did you take drugs again?" She asks looking at the back of his head "You recovered didn't you?"

Izana hums into the curve of her neck, seemingly accepting the topic change. "yeah... I dunno... I felt like I needed it and I got carried away without Kakucho noticing and then this happened"

Maya listens to Izana's response, a mixture of frustration and concern bubbling inside her. "But you were doing so well," she murmurs, her voice gentle, not wanting him to think she was in any way disappointed because she wasn't— Maya knows and has seen how hard it is recovering from addiction "Why would you risk everything by taking drugs again?"

Izana's grip on her tightens slightly, his breath warm against her skin as he shifts his weight. "I don't know, bunny," he admits quietly. "Sometimes, it's just hard to resist the temptation."

Maya's heart aches at his words, the complexity of Izana's struggles weighing heavily on her mind. Despite everything, she can't shake the feeling of empathy towards him, even as she grapples with her own conflicting emotions. "You know you can talk to me about these things... I'm still technically a psychiatrist..." she says softly, her fingers gently stroking his hair

Izana chuckles softly, a wry smile playing on his lips as he turns to face her. "You're a persistent one, aren't you?" he teases, his eyes meeting hers with a mixture of amusement and affection. "But I suppose that's part of why I keep you around."

Maya feels a little stupid for being this way with Izana after all he's done. Maybe it was because not once he had lied to her. Because he had been truthful the entire time. She feels stupid for unconsciously looking for affection in such a violent place and from such a violent person. Yet, there's a raw honesty to Izana that she can't ignore. He may be brutal and ruthless, but he's also authentic in a way that few others are. In a world filled with lies and deceit, his transparency is both refreshing and unsettling. But Maya knows she can't continue to delude herself. She's playing a dangerous game, dancing on the edge of a cliff with Izana as her partner. Maya is about to say something until she feels one of Izana's hands start to trail up higher on her ribs, the tips of his fingers grazing against the band of her bra. "lace?" He murmurs "lemme see"

Maya's breath catches in her throat as Izana's fingers linger on the edge of her bra, sending a shiver down her spine. The gentle touch of Izana's fingers against her skin ignited a firestorm of conflicting desires. "I-Izana" she mumbles nervously as he lifts himself off her, hovering over her body

Izana's lips curve into a knowing smile as he leans in closer, his breath warm against her skin. "Don't worry, bunny," he murmurs, his voice low and seductive. "Just wanna take a look"

But Maya can't shake the feeling of vulnerability that grips her, the sense of being caught in a web of desire and deceit. She knows that she should resist, that she should push him away and reclaim control over her own desires. But as Izana's lips brush against her neck, igniting a spark of desire deep within her, she finds herself unable to resist the pull of his magnetic presence. With a trembling sigh, Maya surrenders to the intoxicating allure of the moment, allowing herself to be consumed by the passion that burns between them. At that moment, she knows that she's playing with fire, dancing on the edge of oblivion with Izana as her partner. But for now, she chooses to embrace the flames, surrendering to the tumultuous whirlwind of desire that threatens to consume them both. "Arch your back" he mumbles

Maya's heart races as she complies, arching her back in response to Izana's whispered command. Every nerve in her body tingles with anticipation, her senses heightened by the intoxicating proximity of his touch. She can feel the heat of his breath against her skin, sending shivers of pleasure coursing through her veins. As she arches her back, Izana's hands slide gently along her sides, tracing the contours of her body with a feather-light touch. His fingers dance over her skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake, as he explores the curves of her body with a tender reverence. Izana slides his hands under her back and with one movement lifts her off the bed like she was a child. She's now in his lap, straddling his thighs, chest pressed against his. Maya gasps as Izana effortlessly lifts her off the bed, her body instinctively wrapping around him. She looks into his eyes, searching for any hint of hesitation or doubt, but finds only a smouldering intensity that sends a thrill of anticipation coursing through her veins. "can I?" Izana whispers softly, a look of vulnerability in his eyes "Will you let me this time?"

With trembling hands, Maya reaches up to trace the contours of Izana's face, her touch gentle yet filled with fierce longing. She feels a surge of electricity shoots through her body at the contact, every nerve ending alight with sensation. Izana's hands roam freely over her body, igniting a firestorm of desire that threatens to consume them both. Their breath mingles in the air, hot and ragged, as they lose themselves in the dizzying ecstasy of the moment. "Is that a yes then?" He murmurs, a small smile playing on his lips

With a soft exhale, Maya nods slowly, her voice barely above a whisper. "Yes," she breathes, her fingers still tracing the contours of Izana's face, her touch a silent affirmation of her consent

Oh god did she hate herself for this. But maybe she was too tired. Too tired after fighting, too tired after realizing there was no one on her side. Izana's smile widens, a glimmer of satisfaction dancing in his eyes as he leans in closer, his lips hovering just inches from hers. "Good"

Maya's heart races as Izana's lips draw closer, anticipation mingling with trepidation in her chest. She feels a surge of conflicting emotions—desire warring with self-loathing, longing battling against resignation. Their lips meet in a searing kiss, sending a jolt of electricity coursing through Maya's veins. It's a whirlwind of sensation, overwhelming and all-consuming, as they lose themselves in each other's embrace. In that fleeting moment, there is no past, no future, only the raw intensity of their connection, binding them together in a fiery passion that defies reason and logic. "now lemme get a look" Izana says, pulling away from the kiss

Izana pulls her shirt off with ease, throwing it to the side, and falling onto the floor. He sighs softly, his thumb brushing over the baby pink lacy strap on her shoulder. Maya's cheeks flush with heat as Izana's gaze roams over her exposed skin, his eyes tracing every curve and contour with a hunger that sends shivers down her spine. She feels exposed under his intense scrutiny, vulnerable yet strangely exhilarated by the raw intensity of his desire. "Beautiful," Izana murmurs, his voice low and husky as he reaches out to caress her cheek with gentle fingers

She leans into his touch, her own fingers trailing lightly down his clothed chest, tracing the lines of his muscles with a reverence born of awe and longing. Izana's gaze shifts to her shoulder to the scar from where he had accidentally bitten her too hard. Maya feels a surge of mixed emotions flood her being as she watches him study the mark with a mixture of regret and a weird look of fascination. "I'm sorry," Izana murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper as he traces the scar with gentle fingertips

Maya isn't too sure if he actually means it though. But she doesn't feel like doubting it right now. Maya doesn't want to feel like shit anymore. She's tired of feeling that way. "It's fine" she mumbles, thumb tracing over his jaw "It'll fade"

Izana sighs, leaning down to press a kiss to her scarred shoulder. "I've hurt you so much, hm..." She knows he's not just referring to the physical scars but also the emotional wounds he's inflicted upon her. "I'll make it up to you, bunny... Promise"

And so Izana kissed her again, all tongue, licking desperately into her mouth like he was starved. Maya's mind swirls with conflicting emotions as Izana's lips meet hers once more, his kiss desperate and hungry, as if trying to erase the pain of the past with the intensity of the present. She can feel the raw desire coursing through him, his touch igniting a firestorm of longing within her. Izana is being oddly sweet for someone who waterboarded and burned her. 

Oh well.

He unclips her bra with ease, throwing it in the same place he threw her shirt. She's soon lowered back onto the bed. He's kissing down her throat, ending at her sternum, sucking love bites into her skin while her fingers tangle into the thick white strands of his hair. Izana sighs against Maya's skin and she shivers then he shivers too. "Fuck... I'm cold again" he groans, his fingers digging into her waist

She forgot he was still going through withdrawals. Izana is going through another cold flush like earlier. She can feel the chill emanating from his skin, a stark contrast to the fire burning within her own veins. With a mixture of concern and tenderness, she reaches out to caress his cheek, her touch gentle yet filled with an unspoken promise of comfort. "It's okay, Izana," she murmurs soothingly, her voice a soft whisper against his ear. "I'm here. I'll keep you warm."

Izana's grip on her tightens, his fingers digging into her waist with a mixture of desperation and longing. "I need you, Maya," he confesses, his voice raw with emotion, using her name for the first time in a long time 

At that moment, Maya knows that she can't deny him what he seeks, no matter how temporary or fleeting the relief may be or how much she hates him. With a silent nod, she pulls him closer, enveloping him in the warmth of her embrace, determined to offer him solace in the midst of his torment. So their clothes scatter and Izana pushes in, slowly, inch by inch, knocking the air out of her lungs. "f-fuck" a whimper leaves Izana and Maya lets out a shuddery breathe, squeezing her eyes shut

Her nails dig into his shoulders and her legs go around his waist, not sure if she wanted him closer or further. Maya is breathing heavily and shaky, her head up in clouds from the stretch caused by the lack of preparation from both herself and Izana. "god, you're so warm" Izana moans, his face pressed into the crook of her neck

He hasn't moved his hips yet, probably being nice for once and trying to let Maya adjust to him first. She wraps her arms around his neck and sighs, fingers tangling in his hair. "I can be on top" She offers, voice shaky

Izana's teeth graze against her throat. "as much as I'd love the view bunny, I wanna be on top... I'm trying to make it up to you remember" He hisses a little, mumbling how tight she was 

Maya's heart flutters at the intimacy of their exchange, a mixture of desire and uncertainty coursing through her veins. She hesitates for a moment, torn between her own desires and Izana's request. But ultimately, she nods in silent agreement, trusting him to lead them in this dance of passion and a twisted kind of redemption. "Okay," she breathes, her voice barely above a whisper, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on his back. "I trust you, Izana."

Honestly speaking, no she didn't. Just because Izana was truthful to her didn't mean she had to be truthful to him. She could lie to him as much as she wanted. She had no reason to be honest. So as Izana start to thurst she whimpers out his name over and over. It felt good. So fucking good. The drag of his cock against her walls and each time his pelvis brushed against her clit. It felt so fucking good. "I-Izana" she whines as he thrusts in slow and lazy

His lips meet hers in a just as lazy but desperate kiss. Maya didn't know Izana had the capability to kiss like that— soft, full of passion, desperation and eagerness. Fuck it felt good. Being treated that way by someone who's only ever treated you violently felt so good. She whimpers into his mouth as his fingers find her nipples, lightly rubbing against them before pinching. Her legs tighten around his waist and her fingers tug at his white locks. Izana begins kissing down towards her jaw now, till her throat, collarbones, and sternum and then Maya feels him smile against her skin before he takes one of her nipples in his mouth. A shuddery breath leaves her lips at the feeling. He sucks at it, soft, but his teeth graze against it almost threateningly. Maya feels like she's having an out-of-body experience when he tugs at her other nipple and his free hand goes down to rub at her clit. There's so much going on at once that she already feels so overstimulated and comes from the sheer feeling of all of it. Izana chuckles as she comes down from her high. He stops thrusting momentarily as he presses his forehead against hers. "so sensitive, hm bunny..." Izana sighs softly "Wish I took your first..."

He doesn't give her a chance to respond as he starts thrusting again, this time rougher, harder. Her eyes roll back as he pulls his head away from her. "oh fuck..." Izana mutters as he slows down but keeps going just as hard "Look at that"

Izana is looking down at her stomach, right at the small bulge on her lower tummy every time he thrusts into her cunt. He fucking giggles, like it's something cute, like he's not practically fucking her guts. Oh god, she should be horrified but it just turns her on even more. A sob-like moan leaves her when Izana speeds up and presses down on her lower stomach. She feels good. Everything feels good and even if it's only momentary, Maya wants it so badly to last. No matter how overwhelming, no matter how sensitive. Because it seems that only during sex is when the pain truly stops. "please" Maya whimpers desperately, pulling him in as close as possible when he pounds into her cunt 

"Please what, hm?" He asks, the tips of his fingers pressing bruises into her waist "wh-what-f-fuck... what do you want bunny?"

Izana's voice is shaky as he speeds up even more, feeling himself getting closer. "a-ah~ want more" Her moan sounded more like a sob 

Izana smiles, his eyes dark with lust as he leans down, capturing her lips in a rough messy kiss. It's all teeth and tongue and eventually, they're both just breathing heavily into the other's mouths as they come at the same time. Izana doesn't pull out after that though. He simply shifts their positions so they're both lying on their side and keeps his cock buried in her using the excuse that he was still cold. That was probably his first lie but Maya was too tired to say or do anything so she just complies. She's tucked away in his arms. Izana is holding her tight and close like he's afraid she'll slip away at any moment. Maya on the other hand can't focus on anything other than the feeling of him still inside. "One thing I adore about girls like you is how prettily you suffer." Izana whispers as his fingers trace along her spine "How could anyone want to comfort you when you look this fuckin' pretty when you're miserable?"

Mayas closes her eyes and just falls slack in his arms. It's dark out now. "You're gorgeous, you know that my pretty bunny? Everything about you is breathtakingly beautiful" He whispers and she opens her eyes to look at him

Maya doesn't say anything to Izana. Everything just felt too good for her to really even try to speak or move. "You're so pretty... The way you suffer is so pretty too so I just can't help but hurt you..." Izana murmurs and presses a kiss to her cheekbone

After a while, he pulls out with a small hiss, leading her silently to the shower. As the water cascades over them, washing away the physical remnants of their encounter, Maya's mind drifts into a haze of numbness. The weight of their tangled emotions hangs heavy in the air, suffocating her as she struggles to make sense of it all. Izana's words echo hollowly in her ears, his attempts at reconciliation falling on deaf ears as she retreats into the depths of her own thoughts. In the midst of the steam and the warmth of the water, Maya feels a profound sense of emptiness, a hollow ache that gnaws at the edges of her soul. She can't shake the feeling of being adrift, lost in a sea of uncertainty and despair. Each drop of water that falls against her skin feels like a reminder of the tears she's shed, the pain she's endured, and the scars that mar her body and soul alike.

As they step out of the shower, Izana gives her a pill, his voice a distant echo in the recesses of her mind. Maya accepts it mechanically, her movements robotic as she goes through the motions of getting cleaned up. She doesn't bother listening to Izana's words anymore, the pretty lies and empty promises ringing hollow in her ears. Wrapped in a towel, Maya allows herself to be led back to the bedroom, the weight of the world pressing down on her shoulders. She lets Izana hold her naked body against his chest, but the embrace offers little comfort, a fleeting illusion of solace in a world devoid of warmth and light.

As he kisses her forehead and murmurs empty reassurances into her ears, Maya can't help but feel a sense of profound sadness wash over her. This moment of tenderness feels like a cruel mockery of the pain and suffering that has brought them to this point. She knows that no amount of physical closeness can erase the scars that mar their relationship, nor can it mend the broken pieces of her shattered heart.

One can only dream, she figures.

Mikey is back the next morning. She ignores him as best as she can. Maya didn't want to even look at him after knowing he had been lying to her this whole time— giving her false hope that he'd convince Izana to let her go when Mikey might as well be an accomplice. The air in the beach house feels heavy with tension as Mikey's presence looms over Maya like a dark cloud. But despite her efforts to ignore him, Mikey's presence is an ever-present reminder of the lies and deceit that have plagued their relationship or whatever twisted relationship they had in the first place. 

She doesn't know how to face Mikey, how to confront the betrayal that cuts to the core of her being. All she can do is bury her pain deep within her heart, shielding herself from the raw vulnerability of her shattered trust. But even as she tries to push him away, a part of Maya longs for answers, for closure to the questions that have haunted her since the truth came to light. She knows that confronting Mikey won't undo the damage that has been done, but she can't help but yearn for some semblance of understanding in the midst of the chaos that surrounds her. "Thanks again, Maya" Kakucho says with a smile "Really."

Izana had fallen back to sleep after breakfast, still needing a lot of rest. Thankfully this time the detox process shouldn't take too long since he wasn't in that damn shitty hospital with shitty care. "It's nothing" Maya mumbles dismissively

She was still mad at Kakucho. Almost as much as she was mad at Mikey. Maya had the right to be mad after all. She resents his gratitude, feeling as though it's a hollow gesture in the wake of his betrayal. But beneath her anger lies a deep well of hurt and confusion, emotions that threaten to consume her if she lets them. The lies, the deceit, the manipulation—all of it weighs heavily on her heart, dragging her down into a pit of despair. She can't shake the feeling of betrayal that gnaws at her from within, leaving her feeling lost and alone in a sea of uncertainty. "really though... thanks for helping him" Mikey says with a soft smile

Maya resists the urge to sneer at him the same way she would at Izana when she was first brought here. Mikey had been lying to her, giving her false hope. That was probably worse than Kakucho going back on his word. "Sure" Maya replies tersely, her voice lacking the warmth that once coloured their conversations

She can't bring herself to meet Mikey's gaze, her eyes fixed on some distant point in the room as she struggles to contain the storm of emotions raging inside her. Mikey's smile falters slightly, a flicker of concern crossing his features. "Hey, is everything okay?" he asks, his voice laced with genuine worry.

Maya's jaw clenches as she fights to keep her composure, the urge to lash out at Mikey almost overwhelming. But she knows that giving in to her anger won't solve anything, and won't change the past. So she forces herself to take a deep breath, to push aside her hurt and frustration, if only for a moment. "Yeah, everything's fine" Maya replies, her tone flat and devoid of emotion

She retreats to the master bedroom. Bad idea honestly speaking. It wasn't her own room, it was Mikey's. Stupid idea for her to try and hide from him in there because he just followed her inside. "no... everything's not fine. What's wrong?" Mikey asks with a frown, his black hair tied back in a messy ponytail

Maya's heart skips a beat as Mikey enters the room, his concerned voice cutting through the heavy silence that hangs between them like a suffocating fog. She can feel the weight of his gaze on her, a silent plea for her to open up and share her burden. But Maya remains silent, her emotions roiling beneath the surface as she struggles to find the words to articulate the storm raging inside her. "It's nothing, Mikey," Maya finally murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. "I just... I need some time alone."

Mikey's frown deepens, his brows furrowing in concern. "You can talk to me, Maya," he insists, taking a step closer to her. "Whatever it is, we can work through it together. I told you I'm here for you"

Maya shakes her head, heading for the bathroom to get inside and lock the door so she can get some alone time but Mikey gets inside before she can even get the door closed. "don't avoid me" He speaks more demandingly this time "You haven't even been looking at me since I got back! Didn't you miss me, baby?"

The petname which used to make her heart flutter is now making her stomach churn. "Mikey, I really don't wanna do this right now" Maya says, digging her nails into her palms, feeling a mixture of panic and anger fill her

"Maya, please," Mikey pleads, his voice tinged with desperation as he reaches out to gently grasp her arm. "I just want to understand what's going on. You've been avoiding me ever since I got back, and I can't shake this feeling that something's not right."

Maya's heart pounds in her chest as she feels the weight of Mikey's gaze on her, his eyes searching hers for answers she's not ready to give. "I really don't want to talk to you right now"

But Mikey's grip tightens on her arm, his expression filled with determination as he refuses to let her pull away. "No, Maya," he says firmly, his voice tinged with frustration. "We need to talk about this. Whatever it is, we'll face it together."

With a heavy sigh, she meets Mikey's gaze with a sense of resignation, steeling herself for the difficult conversation that lies ahead. "Okay," Maya whispers, her voice barely above a whisper as she takes a deep breath, preparing herself for the storm that is about to come. "Let's talk."

Mikey nods and gestures for her to continue. "You're lying to me" she says

He furrows his brows. "what?"

"you were lying to me" Maya repeats trying to sound more angry than sad "You told you asked Izana to let me go when you really didn't. You want to keep me here too"

Mikey's expression shifts from confusion to determination, his features contorted with earnestness at Maya's accusation. "Maya, you've got it all wrong," he protests, his voice tinged with a hint of desperation. "I know it may seem that way, but I was only trying to keep you safe. I asked Izana to let you go, but he's unpredictable. I was worried about what might happen to you if you left."

Maya meets his gaze with a mixture of skepticism and sorrow, wrestling with the conflicting emotions swirling inside her. "Keeping me safe?" she echoes, her voice heavy with disbelief. "By keeping me prisoner with you and your sociopath brother? How is that supposed to make me feel safe?"

Mikey steps closer, his eyes pleading for understanding. "I know it's hard to see it now, Maya, but believe me, I was only trying to protect you," he insists, his voice tinged with genuine concern. "I didn't want you to get hurt. I thought I was doing what was best for you."

Tears well up in Maya's eyes as she grapples with the painful realization of Mikey's deception. She had put her faith in him, believing that he had her best interests at heart. But now, as she stands before him, the truth laid bare, she can't help but feel a profound sense of betrayal. Mikey takes her face in his hands as she's standing with her back against the counter. "Baby, it's not just all that, hm... I wanted you and there was no other way to make you stay" he completely shifts his point now "It's so dangerous out there for you and I wanted you anyway so making you stay was the best option"

Tears start to run down her cheeks. "You watched what I went through... This isn't fair" Maya whimpers sadly

Mikey's expression softens, his features contorted with a feigned sympathy as he steps closer to Maya, reaching out to gently wipe away her tears. "I know, baby, I know," he murmurs, his voice dripping with false sincerity. "But you have to understand, I did it because I care about you. I couldn't bear to see you in danger out there, not when I knew I could keep you safe here with me."

Maya's heart aches at his words, torn between the desire to believe him and the nagging doubts that linger in the back of her mind. "But you didn't have the right to make that decision for me," she whispers, her voice tinged with a mixture of sadness and anger. "You took away my freedom, Mikey. How can you expect me to forgive you for that?"

Mikey's gaze hardens, a flicker of frustration crossing his features as he takes a step closer, his hand tightening around Maya's arm. "Because I did it out of love, Maya," he insists, his voice tinged with possessiveness. "I did it because I love you and I can't bear the thought of losing you. Can't you see that?"

She sniffles, trembling a little now after his sudden love confession. "Why couldn't you have just told me the truth?"

"Would you have stayed if I did?" Mikey asks lowly

Maya's breath catches in her throat, her heart pounding with the weight of Mikey's question. His words hang heavy in the air, suffocating her with their implication. "I don't know," she whispers, her voice quivering with uncertainty. "But I deserved to know the truth."

Mikey's expression hardens, a glint of possessiveness flashing in his eyes as he takes a step closer to Maya, his hand reaching out to grasp her arm firmly. "You would have run, Maya," he says, his voice low and commanding. "And I couldn't let you go. You're mine."

Maya recoils at his touch, her eyes widening with a mixture of fear and disbelief. "Mikey, please..." she pleads, her voice trembling with emotion. "This isn't right. You can't keep me here against my will."

But Mikey's grip tightens, his fingers digging into her skin with a painful intensity. "I'm doing this for your own good, Maya," he insists, his tone tinged with desperation. "You're safer here with me. You belong with me."

Tears well up in Maya's eyes as she struggles against Mikey's hold, feeling trapped and powerless. "Let me go, Mikey," she begs, her voice choked with emotion. "Please, just let me go."

But Mikey's expression hardens further, his resolve unyielding as he stares down at Maya with a possessive gleam in his eyes. "You're not going anywhere," he declares, his voice dripping with determination. "You're mine, Maya. And you're staying right here where you belong."

It was weird. Just weeks ago she had the same conversation with Izana and now she was having it with Mikey. Just like then, she's weak. Weak as Mikey turns her around to face the mirror in front of the bathroom sink, weak as takes her right there in front of it. "so fuckin' pretty" He moans as he watches her through the mirror "Takin' me so we-well, baby"

There's a thin coat of sweat on her forehead and her hair is sticking to her skin. Mikey keeps running a hand up and down her spine, seemingly enjoying the way it arches as he thrusts into her. He's being rough, moaning, mumbling praises. All Maya can do is take it, grasping desperately at the counter, her moans breathless and whimpers pitiful. Once again she hates how good it felt. One of the things that wasn't fair was how good Mikey knew how to make her feel. She almost regrets letting him take the time to get to know her body, to let him know all those other nights what she liked and what she didn't because now it was her downfall. "You're mine, hm?" He grunts "Yeah baby?"

She's gasping, trembling as he's forcing a second orgasm out of her while rubbing on her clit. "I-I... 'm yours" 

It's too much. Way too much as he just keeps going. "say it. say my name"

"Mikey"

"again"

"M-Mikey"

He forces the third out of her. Mikey grabs Maya by her hair and pulls her till her back is pressed to his chest while he fucks her. "look at you" He murmurs shakily into her ear "so fuckin' pretty..."

Had this situation been any other, she would have agreed. God, she looked so damn hot being fucked by him like this. Mikey is holding her so tight against him. Her eyes are glazed over and her hair sticking to her skin. She's trembling, biting at her already red, bruised lips, her fucked out expression looking so damn pretty. "Who do you belong to?"

"Mikey..." She gasps breathlessly

He finishes inside her finally. Her head is a mess when Mikey turns her back around to face him. He's hugging her tight, right up against his chest as if to try and keep her together. Maya can feel his cum dripping down her inner thighs. The feeling is odd. She shivers and just lets him remove all her clothes so they can shower together. She feels boneless and exhausted. He's whispering apologies into her ear for being too rough, asking her where the scar on her shoulder had come from then tells her he'd tell Izana to be more gentle with her. Maya answers each, quietly and shaky. She's so tired and it's only 12 pm. "I love you... okay?" Mikey murmurs as they stand beneath the shower

"I love you too" she murmurs, her voice barely audible over the sound of the running water

There isn't much she can really do about it now. All the roads to freedom have been blocked off and there was no longer a way out. Maya is exhausted and now she just wants to stop fighting. 

But the question remains:

Just when will Mikey and Izana be done taking from her?

notes: oh my god we have 2 more chapters left for the main story. The next chapter explores Maya's forgotten memories and a means to an end. lol good luck everyone, all of us will need it.

Idk if the smut with either Izana or Mikey is even good but yeah, that's there.

link to character analysis and headcanons

likes, asks and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

special thanks to: @highpri3stess @mysouleaten @yaya4thawin @piroporopo @reiners-milkbiddies @bontensbabygirl @tenjikusstuff4 @fairey555 @haikyuusboringassmanager @firstdivisiongirl

[twola]

Wanted to say I looovvve how you write Arthur! Since you’re taking requests I was wondering if you’d do something like the nsfw alphabet for him or just general headcanons for him? Thank you:)

I’ve always wanted to do one of these. Thanks for the nudge! For reference, our boah is high-honor for this.

Drop a line and tell me which one is your favorite!

NSFW Alphabet : Arthur Morgan

➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He’s usually a panting, groaning mess after orgasm, but as soon as he catches his breath, he’s peppering your face with kisses, heaping praise upon you.

“Such a good girl.” He’ll rumble in those low timbres, his deep voice sex-hoarse as he gently wipes his spend from your skin.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Arthur loves the gentle slope - the long curve of your neck. He loves kissing it, suckling at it, leaving marks and bruises as he not so secretly enjoys you having physical signs that you’re his.

He’s not one to think much of himself, he’s known to degrade himself, but if you were insistent on an answer,  he would say his arms. Broad and strong from years of hard living - heaving hunted animals over his shoulder, roping horses, beating men. His arms draw you into the line of his body, wrapping around your waist and keeping you secure and safe.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He’s not an idiot. Not at this point in his life. Having had gotten a girl pregnant and living in proximity to John’s stupidity with Abigail, he knows that the temporary high of spending into a woman wasn’t worth the risk of conceiving a child.

Doesn’t mean he doesn’t wish, want, so much, to spend within your warmth, not to pull himself from you jerkily.

If he were another man, in another life, not running in an outlaw gang - he would love to stay inside, to create life within you - to watch you grow and birth his child. If only. If only.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Big, bad gunslinger - outlaw - criminal, god, he would never hear the end of it if others knew how he whimpers as you nudge that spot beneath his testicles, your fingers pressing against that skin, and it feels so good he could cry. 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

While in his later adult years, he has had fewer partners, in his youth, Arthur was a wild stallion. Rolling into a saloon with a sly smile and a bag full of gold coins from a robbery, working women flocked to him, and he certainly enjoyed their company.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Arthur certainly enjoys any way he can have you - and he certainly has enjoyed an array of positions - holding you up against a brick wall in a back alley in Saint Denis, bending you over the table in an empty cabin, watching you gyrate above him- riding him as he fucks up into you.

But deep down, this grisled outlaw is a romantic at heart, though he will never admit it.

He loves the most when you’re underneath him, when he can see your pretty face when you come, when he can spread himself out over you, when you cross your ankles over his hips to draw you in.

In this cruel, hard world, he loves you safe and secure beneath him, where he can shield you from all of its ugliness, if only for a few moments.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Arthur’s sense of humor is notoriously dry, and frankly, it's not brought to the bed, or whatever surface he’s having you on.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Well, it is 1899. And he’s a man that lives out in the wilds. Baths are hard to come by.

But you do enjoy trailing your fingers along the trail of dark hair that begins at his navel and spreads across his pelvis - straight to the chestnut curls at the base of his cock.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Arthur worships you as the two of you fall into bed with one another. God, he told you he loved you before he slept with you - of course the moment is thick with emotion.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Sure, if a job takes him away from you for several days, he’ll get lonely. Arthur will pull the flaps on his small tent and lay himself on his bedroll, unbuttoning his union suit and taking his length in hand, closing his eyes and picturing you there: the way you whine into his ear. The way you clutch at his shoulders, the way you roll your hips to take him deeper. The way you grit out his name as you’re reaching the edge, the way your cunt pulses around him-

He spills over his hand, moaning as he comes down from his high. As he catches his breath and wipes off his hand before tucking himself away, he knows, he knows, that he will have to have the real thing as soon as he returns to you.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

For someone with a mind-numbingly high bounty on his head, he should not like getting tied up so much.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Not that he has many options most of the time, his cot within his tent being the normal spot, but he does love to have you in a big bed, naked and squirming on fresh sheets. He takes you to hotels when he can, enjoying the ability to press you down into a soft mattress.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

There’s nothing that gets his blood pumping like successfully pulling off a heist. Riding back into camp loaded down with riches, swinging down off his horse, after depositing the take, he will seek you out, taking you hand in his and kissing it gently before walking you back to his tent and laying you down on his cot.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He may be a killer, a criminal, a bad person. But he does have a code. He has never and will never force himself on a woman. He would never force you to do anything for him if you said no, even though it would be more than easy enough for him to overpower you.

Fortunately for him, you don’t like saying no.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Christ, you wonder as you throw your head back in the pillow, was there anything this man couldn’t do well? He’s between your thighs suckling at your clit, tongue lapping at your entrance, pressing inside you as his warm breath ghosts over your core. Arthur loves diving between your legs, even drawing up your skirts out in the wild and tasting you. And god, is he good at it.

While he likes to give, give, give, he cannot help but groan as you sink to your knees in front of him, babbling near incoherently as you suck his cock until he spills hot and fast down your throat.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Depends on the setting. If he’s forced to go quickly, it is a brutal, punishing rhythm. But oh, if he’s got you in bed with nothing but time, he savors each slow, long stroke, and the whimpers that drip from your mouth like ambrosia.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Not his favorite. He’d rather take his time to painstakingly take you apart - to feel every inch of you against him, to see and taste and love you. To give you the attention he believes fully you deserve.

But sometimes, the man just needs to be inside you, sheathing his cock in your warm, wet cunt. With your clothes still on and undergarments shoved to the side, Arthur groans as he sinks inside you, wanting never to leave. 

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He’s willing to try just about anything - unless it has the ability to hurt you. You hear talk in the saloons from working girls of acrobatic positions that you tell him about while blushing. He’ll try, as long as its not something that verges on dangerous.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

“I ain’t a teenager any more.” He’ll grumble, but he always, always, draws you to come multiple times before he actually does.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Again, it's 1899. Besides, he thoroughly enjoys bringing you over that edge with his fingers, his tongue, or his cock.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

You wouldn’t say he likes to tease you, but you find it completely unfair when he refuses to let you touch him, drawing orgasm after orgasm from you before he is ready to come himself.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Growing up in an outlaw camp, in close proximity to everyone, Arthur knows how to be quiet. But the second he gets you away, whether out in the wilds or a hotel room, he grunts and moans into your ear, his gravelly voice fading into primal noises the closer he gets.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He doesn’t know why he allowed it to happen - he should have been the one teaching you to shoot. Not Javier.  

Or maybe it’s a good idea. He’s not sure how much learning would get done. Not after he’s seen you aim a repeater, tensing against the recoil. 

He’d be bending you over the fence that Javier has lined up empty bottles on, pressing inside of you, his little gunslinger.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

As much as he’d deny it, Arthur is not diminished at all when stripped of his clothing. While he’s a bit self-conscious about his stippled and scarred skin, you fully enjoy tracing his life’s story with your fingers or your lips.

Arthur is not a small man. He’s tall and broad shouldered, muscular and solid. The first time you fish his cock from his union suit, a flash of panic shoots through you - how the hell were you supposed to take all of this?

You shouldn’t have worried, considering how much Arthur would work you open with his fingers and tongue before sinking into you - the stretch of him entering you never hurts.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Now, sometimes unfortunately, much like coffee, Arthur awakens and needs to have you to seemingly function. Sleepy, gentle sex as the sun rises lets him get out of bed on the right foot.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Even after bringing both of you to orgasm, panting, breathless, he won’t fall asleep right away. He’ll always have enough energy, at the very least, to clean your skin of his spend and draw you into his embrace, winding your legs around each others’, and holding you close until you both fall asleep, completely satiated.

[captainlondonman]

HI VIS

FIRST CLASS BIN MAN

‘Oh Christ, where am I? What time is it? Oh fuck I’ve pissed in my pants, look at the bloody stain all the way down my trousers. And fuck I’ve been sick all down my front. God what a bloody headache.’

Thomas was sat on the dirty wet ground back against a brick wall, , sitting in amongst what seemed like giant wheelie bins.

“Shit what a fucking awful smell.”

His nostrils were full not just of his own sick but the retching smell of fish bones and meat.

Slowly the picture stated coming back to him. He had just gone to Uni to get his results and what a shock, he had just got First Class honours. He had expected Upper second but shit man, a First. Totally amazing. He was on top of the world, any job would now be possible. He remembered hugging all his mates and like a gang they all went out to get smashed and celebrate. Smashed it was for Thomas as he must have been so out of his mind that he ended up down some back alley throwing up and passing out. While he was out cold he had pissed himself. One side of his trousers were totally stained with piss and he could smell it. With all he had had to drink he must have filled his chinos, once beige and now dark brown and still wet. Suddenly he saw that his cock had reacted to the warm wet piss and was erect stretching down his leg, a good meaty piece.

‘This is the last thing I need and how the fuck am I going to get home looking like this.’

So much for celebrating his degree when he ended up like this

As he started to get himself off the ground he heard the noise of a thundering truck backing up the alley with lights flashing, getting closer and closer.

God I’d better hide between these bins and hopefully no one will notice me . He sat back tight against the wall but the vehicle stopped and he heard both doors open.

‘Christ I’m done for’ he thought

Thomas heard the voices

‘Thank God its dry mate today. Another day just the same but it does me, and soon back to the depot and we can get a ciggie and a beer.

Too right, Joe. Make sure we don’t overdo it. Fucking shame that young geezer took off as we need another bloke on this round. A young cocky apprentice to show the ropes and giv us some relief, know what I mean.’

‘Forget the round mate I need my cock serviced by a young guy’ The other bloke said

‘Me too. Shit just saying this is giving me a knob on.’

‘What’s that noise between the bins?’

The two guys moved one of the wheelies aside and there was Thomas slumped trying to hide between the bins.

‘So what have we here?’

Standing in front of Thomas were two hulking bin men in full Hi Viz gear. Certainly 6’ 2”. One was around 50 with a good pot belly, his thick belt holding up his Hi viz trousers and allowing his belly to sit out over. He was wearing thick rubber wellies, a tight tee shirt and hi viz yellow waistcoat. All down his right area were tattoos  He had a bull neck with double chin all unshaven, and hair erupting from the top of his T shirt. His head was totally shaved. The other guy was younger around 40 better build and had clearly done weights. His 6 pack showed through his T shirt but he wore a heavy Hiviz jacket on top, yellow Hi viz trousers and heavy worn rigger boots. Also a shaved head with a thick black beard and gold ring in his left ear. Not the guys to take any nonsense.

‘Er, I was out celebrating last night and have somehow ended up here, sorry’ said Thomas

‘Nae need to apologise but it must have been one fucking night judging by the sick down yer front and holy shit you have pissed herself as well. Some right ol mess mate

Right, lets help you up.’

The two bin men took Thomas by each arm and stood him up against the wall.

‘There you are. Christ you ain’t too bad, what’s that sticking out yer trousers. You’ve a bloody hard on mate and not a bad one at that.’

‘Er Sorry’ Thomas said trying to move his stiff cock so it was not so obvious.

‘Don’t mind us mate. Good viewing,’ the large one said giving himself a good rub between his groin.

‘You need to sort yerself out’

‘I’m not sure how I’m going to get home like this.’

‘Too right. Apart from the mess you stink mate’

The fatter guy gave his mate a side glance. ‘This could be what we are looking for’ his smile widening.

‘I reckon perfect.’

‘Sorry what are you saying?’

‘We are just finishing our round once we’ve loaded those wheelies and then back to the depot. Why don’t you get into the front between us and we’ll take you back with us to tidy up a bit and get you looking right.’

The two men had no difficulty is throwing the contents of the wheelie into the truck. The older guy got into the driver seat and the other said

‘Now young man get up and in between us.’

Thomas lifted himself into the long seat and the other guy pushed him along so his legs were touching the driver.

‘So what’s your name boy?’

‘Thomas.’

‘What a name, sounds fucking posh.’

The younger one said I’m Dave and the Big Un is Joe. Got that. You’ll know us well soon enough

‘So. What were you celebrating?’

‘I’d just got my Uni results’

‘Oh a clever boy then?’

‘Well yes, I got First Class honours so really pleased’

‘Christ knows what that is, Joe said, but suppose good enough to get you pissed’

‘Yes its great, makes it really easy to get a good job.’

‘Tell you what son you don’t have to look any further than us. You can join us, were looking for an apprentice kid to train on the bins, and keep Dave and I happy as well. You could be a first class binman.’ Joe said moving one of hands off the steering wheel and on to Thomas’s lap giving him a pat

‘I see myself in Finance actually.’

‘Oh do you actually? Tell you what Tam, you sound a right little stuck up shit telling me that. First class binman probably too good for you. I reckon a fucking ordinary binman more like.’

‘Sorry I don’t mean to be insulting but it is not what I have in mind.’

Thomas was sitting tightly between Dave and Joe each of his legs rubbing against theirs more with Joe very time he changed gear. He felt their shoulders up against him, felt their power, had the noise of the Hi Viz gear against his ears. He could smell their man smell and the stale smoke from their breathing. It was like nothing he had experienced before but he felt under their power and he liked it. Liked it so much that his cock started twitching again and lengthening down his trousers. The workies had seen his last stiff cock and he thought they seemed impressed, in fact the older one seemed to positively like and stare at.Thomas had seen him rubbing his own dick and a sly look had shown Thomas that his prick was in proportion to his size. Meaty and tenting in his HI Viz gear.

I daren’t let them see this, Thomas thought, and put his hands over his dick but he could not resist with the under hand gently stroking.

‘No way do I want to be a HI Viz working bin man’ thought Thomas but these men are really doing it for me even if Joe is overweight. They both seem thick but know what they want.

‘Ok Tam that’s us coming to the Depot’ Joe said

‘It’s Thomas really’ Thomas piped up

‘Too fucking posh for me that Tam. Tam it is and Tam it will stay’

‘I’m still a good walk away from home,’ Thomas said ‘and God knows what people will think of my clothes.’

‘You don’t need to worry about that Tam, come into the hut with us and we will sort you out. We have you looking decent in no time’

As he clambered down from the lorry he let is hands slip away and Dave got a good look at Thomas’s dick, not as hard still still poking out. Dave looked over at Joe with a wink

‘We’ve got a winner here Joe.’

Joe walked into the hut with Thomas behind and the first thing was the small of ciggies and general stench of body odour. He tried not to breathe but the more he resisted the more he wanted to smell  and have his lungs full of the stench.

‘A bit of a smell Tam but you get used to it and it looks already as if your taking it in to your lungs. Right lets sort you out’

Joe opened a locker and took out some clothes throwing them down on a seat.

‘These are yours Tam perfect size, perfect fit and will makes you feel like a different bloke. Much better than all those stained clothes your’e wearing. You’ll be much more comfortable in these, just like a second skin.’

Thomas lifted the various items to inspect.

A pair of really dirty stained Hi Viz trousers in yellow with the reflective stripes, a T shirt that once had been white but now grey, frayed at the neck and ripped under the arms, A grey hoodie with what looked like tea stains down the front, a Hi Viz waistcoat and a jacket all dirty and well used. For foot wear a pair of thick cheesy looking socks and Doc Marten boots with yellow laces

‘I can’t wear these to walk home’ Thomas said looking  in disgust at the Hi Viz gear. ‘They look worse than what Ive got on.’

‘Like Fuck’ Joe said ‘You think that piss stain all down your leg looks better. Trust me you’ll look a hell of a lot better is this stuff and feel better.

He picked up a bin bag and shouted ‘Now get out of these fucking clothes and get into the Hi Viz and just do as I say. Take all those bloody puked and piss stained clothes off including your boxers and get into this kit. And don’t worry bout us, we’ll go next door and make ourselves a brew while you change and I mean change   and then well come back in to see the new you and you’ll find out what’s happens then.’

Feeling very self conscious  and not understanding what the blokes meant Thomas stripped off and looked what to put on first. First try the socks. He looked at them and thought Christ these have been well used. He could not resist smelling them. God what cheesy feet the bloke must have had, it was as if they have never been washed but after his first reaction against them he found himself moving them up and down his nose breathing deeply , getting a kick. It gave him a headache and slightly blurry eyed as he slipped them on his feet. Next the Hi Viz trousers. As he looked inside them the guy had obviously always been. Commando and he could see some skid marks on the arse and piss stains at the front. The trousers were well used but still had a stiffness to them. They looked the right size as he pulled them up. His haziness was getting worse but he still knew what he was doing. Next the T shirt, Christ he could smell the BO. Thank God he could get home soon and get straight into the shower. As he pulled it over his head he felt his arms change. Suddenly they did not feel or even look as skinny as usual, there was good muscle which he had always wanted but through his hazy eyes his right arm started changing colour. There were tattoos in black red and blue. All the way down his arm totally covering all the way to his fingertips. He can’t be seeing right surely but as his mind became more boggled he thought yes my arm is covered in tattoos. Thomas slipped on the waistcoat and then the jacket. He was becoming more and more confused and was beginning to forget his name. What was it ?

Yeah Tam, I think . He went to put his hand up to his head to relieve the pain and saw that his hands were now grimy with dirty bitten nails, the fingers were yellow as if with nicotine. They were thick working hands. As he scratched his head where the hell had all his hair gone? He was bald totally shaven like a skinhead. He had strong wavy hair, so he vaguely. thought but he was scalped. As his hand moved around over his face he discovered he had rings in not just both ears but through his nose. How the hell had they got there. His head was throbbing and his confusion was even worse. A small part of him remembered him as the Uni graduate Thomas but more and more he was thinking of himself as Tam, beer and a night out with his skinhead friends getting into a brawl. He stepped into his 19 hole Doc. Martens, thick soles that had clearly kicked blokes on the ground in ne of his angry moments. As he tied the last boot up his head exploded and he thought his eyes were going. to pop out. He stood up quickly and looked into the mirror next to the locker.

‘Fucking hell, fucking great man’ Tam stood there looking at a Hi Viz clothed skinhead with a scar across one cheek and a spider’s web  tattoo spreading up his neck. He looked bloody scary, takes no prisoners, rings in his ear and nose.

‘I’m a fucking skinhead working on the bins. Shit man who wants more? No need to fucking wok hard.  Stcik with thosue stinking bins and the lads here and the getting out and having a punch up after a gutful of beers. Fucking perfect’

Tam was so pleased with himself that his cock had gone rigid and that meaty cock of Thomas’ was even bigger and thicker now and stood sticking straight out in his HI viz gear. ‘Shit man I’m so fucking horny’ he said rubbing his crotch.

The door opened and Joe and Dave walked in.

‘Well, it looks as if our new apprentice is getting off on his new look. So Dave we have our first class young bin man, Joe said starting to rub his own dick.

Tam could not take his eyes off the mirror seeing his image, his prick getting harder and harder and his hand rubbing up and down faster and faster.

‘Tom, quit the wanking now there’ll be time for that soon enough.’

‘So Joe what do you think.’ Dave said

‘Fucking amazing, shit he’s made me feel fucking horny. No way are we going back on the road until he’s been through his initiation with us.

‘I’m ready, Dave,’  Joe said unzipping his hi viz and pulling out his massive thick dick. He spat a big gob onto his hand and spread it up and down his cock. ‘That’s it getting it greased for a big fuck.’

‘I always love looking at that cock of yours Joe’ Dave said rubbing his own crotch.

‘Jesus,’ Tam said eyeing Joe’s prick.  ‘That’s a fucking monster you have there. Are we all going to wank?’

‘No boy, this dick of mine is going up that arse of yours. All new boys get this and all of them want more after as you will.

‘So do as I say now and drop those hi viz  trousers. Lets me see that cock of yours and I know you want a good look yourself. I promise you it’s a thicker dick that’s you had.’

‘I’m not fucking getting my gear off’ Tom shouted

Joe grabbed hold of Toms jacket and pressed his face against his.

‘You’ll fucking do as I say or do want me to force them down around your fucking knees. If that’s what you want then ye’ll get no spit and trust me you really feel my cock being pushed hard up that crack of yours’

Tam lowered his trousers

‘Now look at that cock of yours mate.. Not a bad bit of equipment and nice and hard. Don’t worry you’ll soon get your chance for that wank’ Joe said grabbing Tam’s cock and give it a mighty squeeze, Tam groaning with real pleasure

‘Now bend over facing Dave, that’s it my boy’

Tom bent forward and Joe let another big gob of spit drop on to his cock.

‘Shit that feels good’ as he rubbed his hand up and down his shaft

He took hold of Toms arse and spread his cheeks, bending down to let his wet tongue in to his crack.

‘Christ that arse of yours is high but get’s me more horny and ready for that fuck.’ With one finger he started moving into Tom’s crack moving it around and taking his second finger pushed that in too

‘Shit man.’  Tom moaned.

‘Shut up its only 2 bloody fingers. Just wait.’

Joe stood up and still with his hands parting Tam’s cheeks moved his hardened cock to the hole. Dave standing watching was by now rubbing his crotch.

‘Once you get that cock up his arse Joe then he can start giving me blow job. I love spunking down a new boy’s throat’

‘Don’t worry Dave his throat is all yours. For now I just want his arse’

Ok Tam get ready, this is what you want. It may hurt at first but once up you you’ll be moving up and down my rod begging me to cum insider you.

With his big arms around Tam’s waist he inched the head of his cock into Tams arse

‘Relax mate. The more relaxed you are the easier it will be’

‘Shit that’s one hell of a dick’ Tam said squirming in both agony and enjoyment

‘This is just the beginning. That arse of yours is begging for my big prick, I can tell the way your bum is reacting’

With his arms he started pulling Tom back slowly towards him, his cock nicely greased by his spit forcing its way up.

‘You see what I told you, relax, feels good don’t it?’

‘Shit it’s big, man but I fucking love it.’ Tom replied letting his arse move further up into Joe’s cock. With one shove from Tam Joe’s cock was up to the hilt and he could feel Joe’s beer belly rubbing against his arse.

‘Shit Joe. Let me feel that flabby belly of yours get right into my arse. Push it big man

‘Dave its time that cock of your got a bit of the action. Let our new boy see that cock of yours.’ Joe grunted loving the feel of his dick in Tam’s arse

Dave was ready and almost panting to get his dick out from his flies.

He stood in front of Tam with a raging erection and pulled his foreskin back.

‘See this cock,  Tam, Dave said as he stood right in front of Tams face. You need to get this down that throat of yours. All part of your initiation.

‘Fuck that cock of yours Dave is rank. I can smell the piss’

‘Piss or no piss’ boy, its going down your throat’

Dave took hold of Tam’s head and inched his hard dick down the throat.

‘Stop fucking gagging boy and breathe it’ll be much easier. Let me see that spit of yours running down your face

Joe smirked. Now you’ve got both of us, me up that nice tight ares of yours and Dave’s cock down your throat.

Now Dave you know what you need to do next don’t you as you know I’m the boss

‘Sure boss, and with that Dave lent forward to took hold of Joe’s tits through his T shirt and started squeezing

‘Fuck that’s good Dave, you always know how to get me really worked up. Keep going and with my dick up Tams arse you can squeeze as much as you want.

‘Tam as for you, you can at last get your cock out and start wanking and all three of us are going to fucking erupt at the same time got it?’

Go on Dave move that cock of yours up and down in Tams throat’ Joe cried as he shoved his dick in and out of Ta’ms arse.

‘You love that boy don’t you?’ as he could hear Tam groaning, his hand down working his shaft

Joe said ‘You fucking loving that Joe I can see. Think this is our best apprentice yet. Go on let that belly of yours smack against his arse. I love seeing it’

‘Too bloody right.  Shit man I’m going to come any minute he said as he gripped Tam, around the waist.

Go on Tam suck my dick as if your life depended on it. That’s some fucking throat you have. ‘Christ Joe I am about to come as well. What bout you Tam.?

A loud grunt from Tom and the way his hand was over his shaft said the same.

‘I’m fucking ready. I’m about to empty a fucking great wad of cum up yer arse boy. That’s it Dave really squeeze my tits.

Shit its coming arghhh I shooting now., With. That joe threw his head back and erupted his sack off cum up Tam’s arse

Dave seeing his mate in orgasm shot his spunk down Tams throat, moaning Fucking hell. Shot after shot of cum was too much for Tam as it ran down his chin on to his HViz jacket.

Feeling all this cum spurting into him from both ends was too much for Tam. This is what he always wanted. Real strong men, arse and face fucking him. With one almighty jerk he released jet after jet of young hot spunk all over the floor

‘Fuuuckin hell Tam shouted. I’ve never had a fuck or wank like that. Fucking terrific.’

The three men stood up and flicked off the drops of cum from their dicks looking at one another doing the same and pushed he cocks back into the hi viz trousers so that some cum would stick to the inside.

‘Well Tam that was your initiation to be a bin man.’

‘Joe you said sumthin about First class. I’ve never been first class in anything always fuckin dumb. Dina want to be anything else. Give me ciggies and beer that’s enough for me.

‘I tell you what Tam,’ Dave said ‘yer a bloody good fuck and as far as I’m concerned a first class bin man. Don’t you agree Dave?’

‘The best yet. I knew it as soon as we picked you up. Well done Joe you chose a right one. This time Lets make sure we keep him.’

‘Tell you what Joe, I ain’t going anywhere if you both can fuck and let me blow job you like that. So what say we get back out on the road and get the afternoon bins picked up and make sure we get back here for another session. I still have plenty of cum to get rid off.’

‘Good boy Tam. Dave and I have plenty to give you. ‘

[tens-girl]

The Legend of Venice…

This is halfway through posting on AO3, five chapters of the ten are available (fic is finished and I post every 3 days so it doesn’t take too long…)

The Who Omens gang (ok, 4/5 of them, Aziraphale is away on an important secret side quest…) head to 18th century Venice to visit Casanova, the Doctor’s double (also looks very like Crowley, although we have femme Crowley in this story to avoid quite that much confusion!)

The usual fun, sexiness, shenanigans and nonsense ensue, with a healthy dose of angst (seriously, when will the Doctor and Jack get their shit together?!) and honestly, Signora Crowley is so damn sexy it hurts.

There’s a little recap in the notes for the first chapter in case you’re not familiar with the group, but it’s so much fun, and if you’re a fan of David Tennant (and who here isn’t?) then you’ll probably have a good time… Also, little taster from Ch1 below the cut…

Rated E - for explicit sex. Various pairings, Crowley enacting some serious gender-fuckery in Ch4.

The Doctor was running as fast as he possibly could, long legs carrying him quickly over paved streets and steep bridges, hurtling around tight corners, crossing back and forth over canals. Several men were pursuing him, one who appeared to be a very successful and wealthy merchant, judging by his dress, accompanied by several members of his personal bodyguard. The Doctor didn’t have the slightest idea why they were chasing him, but they were persisting in doing so, and they had weapons, so he was running. Always running. Everywhere he went across the entirety of space and time, always running.

“Giacomo Casanova! Stop running and face me like a man! You scoundrel!”

Ah… that would explain it…

The merchant was stood at the apex of a bridge, yelling at the man he perceived to be Giacomo Casanova, infamous resident of eighteenth-century Venice. Giving up the chase on a personal level due to a painful stitch in his side and an inability to draw breath properly, he’d sent his guards on to continue the pursuit. The Doctor (very much not Casanova) was picking his way cautiously along a narrow ledge that ran beside a building, balancing carefully so as not to fall into the canal below. He was relying on his slender frame and superior agility to perform this gymnastic feat more successfully than the guards, whose additional layers of protective clothing and cumbersome weapons would almost certainly slow them down.

Not that the Doctor’s outfit was much more convenient. The tight black breeches and leather boots that came over his knees were fine (he rather liked the boots actually…), but the several layers on top were less helpful to his current situation. The rich fabrics of the long waistcoat and dress coat were heavy and stiff, not ideal for extended bouts of running, or pressing tightly against a wall to prevent himself taking an unplanned bath in the disgusting waters of a Venetian canal.

They were lovely though. The high-necked waistcoat was cream with embroidered detail in a golden thread, the coat fashioned in fabric that was the exact blue of his Tardis, edged with more gold. The open-necked shirt below the waistcoat was also Tardis-blue, while the scarf at his throat added a splash of deep red, probably a joke on Crowley’s part, adding a little bit of themselves to the outfit. Because the whole thing was a miracle, materialised out of nothing by the demon.

So actually, if it was going to help him escape…

He shrugged the coat off one shoulder and then the other. Clinging on to a loose brick in the wall with one hand, he tugged the coat off with his other, finding it was awkward, with the fabric so stiff. It wasn’t real, so why couldn’t Crowley have made it soft? He almost lost his footing, one long leather-clad leg swinging quite wildly out over the water, his hearts in his mouth for a moment. And then the coat was finally dislodged, one arm wriggling free. He swung his leg back onto the ledge, swapped his hands over, quickly grabbed his sonic screwdriver from the inside pocket, wedging it between his teeth, and flapped his now-free arm about until the coat eventually fell into the canal. Better.

The Doctor glanced back at his pursuers, who hadn’t actually made it out onto the ledge yet. There appeared to be some discussion as to how they would manage their weapons. Seeing the supposed-Casanova undressing, they were also considering following suit. One was arguing that they should take a boat (because there were always boats tied up along the edge of the canal, and they could ‘borrow’ one quite easily) and drag their prey from the ledge, rather than following him along it.

Given the lack of progress, the Doctor decided to lose the waistcoat too. He quickly unbuttoned it and shrugged it off, letting it too fall into the murky waters below. Crowley wouldn’t mind. Now, with only the loose-fitting shirt and scarf on his upper body, he was in a much better position to outrun his pursuers.

He slowly made his way along the ledge to the next bridge, where he stood for a moment, looking back at the merchant, sliding his sonic into one of his boots for safe keeping. Now he’d made it to the bridge, the guards had ceased their arguments and had set off down a side street at a run, probably taking a loop around the block to get to him, rather than the shorter but more challenging route he’d taken (a tactic, which, if they’d thought about it earlier, probably would have cut him off and enabled his easy capture…)

“There’s been a mistake! I’m not who you think I am!” he shouted at the merchant.

“Oh, come now, Giacomo! Don’t take me for a fool, well, no more than you already have, you bastard!”

“I don’t know what you think I’ve done,” he yelled, before continuing in a mutter to himself, “although I’m fairly sure I can work it out given who you seem to think I am…” and then back to a shout, “…but I assure you, it wasn’t me!”

“Really? I’m not stupid! Show me some respect, Giacomo! Own your crimes!”

“Oh, I’m sure he would! But I’m not him!” Exasperated, the Doctor saw no option but to continue running. The merchant would never believe him (and why should he?), and the guards could be heard thudding down the street towards him. He ran, over the bridge and along the street, heading for the safety of the Tardis now.

“Casanova! Get back here you ungrateful swine!”

In a building up above, another man heard shouting and wondered what the commotion was about. Opening a window and sticking his head out, he spotted a small group of guards in the distance, pursuing a lone figure in a blue shirt who was running along the street towards him. He refocused on the figure and gasped in shock. That’s me… but I’m right here. Well, it’s not me, can’t be me, obviously… but he looks just like me! He blinked a few times, but as the man came closer, he only grew more certain. The resemblance was quite alarmingly complete, the pair identical in every feature. Except his hair… his hair is quite lovely. How does he get it to do that?

The Doctor glanced up; his eye caught by a figure leaning out of a window. He stopped. That’s him! It’s bloody him! And… wow… that is…

He’d seen the image Crowley had put into his head, but still… the likeness was a shock.

“Casanova, give yourself up! You can’t outrun us forever!” one of the guards shouted.

Looking around, the Doctor realised the guards were catching up to him fast. With a last glance up at the man in the window, who was looking even more bewildered now that his own name had been applied to his doppelgänger in the street, the Doctor grinned and saluted him, before setting off again, running. He wouldn’t give the actual Giacomo Casanova up to the guards (although their confusion would have been incredible…), because it wasn’t far to the Tardis, and they could save the complicated questions for another time, when he was in his proper clothes and less out of breath.

Casanova watched the figure as he ran off down the street, the guards in hot pursuit. Who on earth was he? Why did they look the same? Why were they calling him by his name? And why was his hair so amazing?

The Doctor swung round another corner and spotted the Tardis in a dark, unobtrusive corner of the alleyway. He sped towards her, rooting in the tight pocket of the breeches for his key. These clothes just really weren’t convenient…

His shoulder slammed into the door as he scrambled to get the key into the lock, turn it and get inside. Once he was in, he shut the door behind him and leaned against it, gulping oxygen into his lungs.

Well, that was a disaster.

Continue reading on AO3…

[occasionalsnippets]

hello there i have finally slept but woke up at 2;00 am what do i do

warning: rant fuelled by one (1) cup of jasmine tea, Re1999 brainrot, and a weirdly good 5 hours of sleep idek if half of the people on this blog know what Re1999 is

anyways thinking of ReM! MC getting isekai^2 (at least not cubed) into the Reverse 1999 world because. time-reversing storm exists and uhm St. Pavlov Foundation being eerily similar to the SCPF (LITERALLY ONE LETTER OFF)

assuming that MC reverses time when they die, and storm unaffected areas n devices are also unaffected by MCs time-reversing dying (because maybe they work the same way), Timekeeper and her harem the gang would probably detect and think they're a unique arcanist (also thought that they're maybe working or the manus vindictae??) and investigate them despite MC technically being human by blood and they're trying not to die via storm syndrome (i like to think it still affects them because the imagery of MC eating a brick of gold nonchalantly is fun)

MC takes off a Manus Vindictae member's mask (it looks cool) and the member dies (storm is happening rq), MC is like "woopsies"

if MC told Timekeeper the whole dying thing she probs wouldn't bat an eye cuz. arcanists are wild (she's gonna take interest in the way MC affects time because the only thing that reverses time is the Storm so far) (correct me if im wrong cuz i haven't seen the new chapters and event stories since math scares me and wdym there's a whole island of math ppl) maybe the SPF would experiment on them like they did with Timekeeper

MC joins team Timekeeper since free living place and no more eating money and the only thing you have to do is go on missions sometimes

MC offhandedly mentions liking horror once and now Horropedia is zooming down the halls trying to talk to them about FNaF lore (SCOTT CAWTON IS AN ARCANIST AND MADE FNAF BEFORE THE YREAR 1999 TRUST ME) (or the SPF got the internet past the 21st century somehow and he secretly downloaded the games and all the game theories idk, the new event takes place in 2007 so)

Click and MC bonding over experiencing death (+Necrologist for obvious reasons including death)

MC meets the Fool and mentions that he reminds them of someone

thank you for coming to my TED talk. It is 2:47 am here. I will actually go to sleep now

(I've been on this blog for a long, long time now. It's actually the reason I made a Tumblr account. thanks for introducing me to this small community of reader-insert SCP isekai with death-defying powers :D. can I be sleep-deprived anon :3)

Welcome sleep deprived anon :))

Alskjfa idk stuff about reverse 1999 but I might get around to it

[autisticsupervillain]

FTF: Isekai Invasion

The show where we take a character and drop them into a different franchise at a random location to see if they can conquer the world.

This Episode...

Xefros Tritoh invades Empire City!

Conditions:

Takes place in the Evil Karma Timeline of inFAMOUS 1

Scenario:

After finding the device that sent Joey to Alternia, Xefros inadvertently gets himself to to Empire City, landing smack dab in the middle of its gang war conflict.

Invader: Xefros

Return Readers are no doubt familiar with the hellish planet of Alternia. The bleeding heart of the cruel, colonizing Alternian Empire and the factor in which trollkind's children are raised to be killers. It is a brutal, uncaring world where enemy and friend mean the same thing and the corpses outnumber the houses on the streets.

How does an ordinary child survive on such a planet? How does an average person look like in Hell? Well, they don't get much more average than Xefros Tritoh.

Xefros is flat at the bottom of Alternia's hierarchy. As a rust blood with a timid demeanor and no immediately obvious combat ability, Xefros fears for his life on a nightly basis. Anyone or anything could have him killed at any time and no one would care. When the world acknowledged him at all, it was only to remind him that his life didn't matter. Even to a rebellion supposedly fighting in his interests, Xefros didn't matter. His own moirail, er, basically alien queerplatonic life partner those not in the know, doesn't treat him with the slightest respect, doubling down on squashing his self esteem at seemingly every opportunity for reasons we still don't understand. It was a miserable existence.... until he made an actual friend.

Joey Claire was a human far from home with Xefros as her only guide on this hostile alien world. With no understanding of any kind of hemospectrum or an preconceived notions of Xefros's self worth, Joey could see Xefros for who he actually was. Not as a disposable pawn or a worthless servant, but as a scared, traumatized boy who desperately needed a friend. And, now that he has one, Xefros will do anything he can to protect her.

Xefros is an entirely ordinary example of his species, yes, but he's standard for a race of galactic conquers. His strength and speed are clearly superhuman by Earth standards, such as when he survived his hive getting reduced to rubble on top of him with nothing but light bleeding. He also seems resistant to energy draining abilities, with Folykl, someone who drains the psionic and life energy of anyone she touches to keep herself alive, describing trying to drain him as like "sucking on a brick". As a rust blood, Xefros possesses weak basic telekinesis, allowing him to move small objects with great exertion, and can see and talk to ghosts. Most impressively, however, he's capable of holding his own against gold bloods.

Gold bloods are used as batteries for the Empire's fleet ships when they come of age, having their incredible psionic abilities harnessed to power the Empire's warcrafts. When reduced to this state, gold bloods are capable of supplying enough power to these sheeps to push them at near light speeds, generating an awe inspiring kinetic energy of nearly 95 Petatons of TNT. That's enough to obliterate continents, almost enough to completely raze the Earth's surface!

Source:

The gold bloods Xefros fought should be capable of this level of power. Kuprum has been actively training himself and his abilities for the sake of being as good a Helmsman as possible, while Azdaja is even stronger than him. Folykl, someone who easily feeds on Kuprum, can't even tough Azdaja because of his sheer raw power. Azdaja is powerful enough to carve up canyons, and is a dreaded assassin with hundreds of kills to his name.

Xefros could stand up to Azdaja, but ultimately couldn't win... at first. But when Joey was threatened, Xefros's latent Rage powers activated and allowed him to completely stomp Azdaja into the ground.

Rage is one of the twelve Aspects, primordial concepts that govern Homestuck's reality. As a Rage Bound, Xefros can naturally harness negative emotions to bolster himself. His abilities here remain undeveloped, as he simply doesn't have the privilege to be allowed to get angry at anything without being killed. But, seeing as Xefros has already shown to beat Goldbloods and even Purple Bloods with this power, his full potential is likely awe inspiring.

That's sorta the running theme with Xefros. His potential as a person is hampered by a society that's presumed him to be worthless. But, now that he has someone he can fight for, someone who values Xefros for Xefros, the full well of his potential as been opened. Xef just has a lot of self confrontation and soul searching to do before he gets there.

Invaded: Empire City

Empire City. One of the biggest, richest, and most populated cities in the United States. As the inFAMOUS universe's equivalent to New York, this meant it was only a matter of time until everything went wrong.

A mysterious terrorist organization called the First Sons created a device called the Ray Sphere, an explosive device that wiped out much of the city's population, unleashed a horrid plague upon the people, and, worse, gave a select few with a certain gene elemental superpowers. These "Conduits" as they came to be known took their power to the streets and took over the now quarantined city, plunging it into a gang war.

The City and its districts were split by three factions. The Reapers, former drug dealers led by a former First Sons mad scientist named Sasha. The Dust Men, a group of homeless people who turned into a cult who worshipped their leader, Alden Tate, after his fortune was stolen and he was reduced to living in the slums, and the First Sons themselves, lead by an enigmatic man named Kessler.

Sasha's gang is the weakest of the three, as its made mostly of mind controlled innocent civilians brought to heel under Sasha's mind controlling tar. Anyone doused in the substance will be brought under Sasha's command, with repeated ingestions even transforming the victims body's. Ordinary Reapers are strong enough to threaten Zeke Dunbar, who himself is strong enough to tackle open gates, survive a fall into the Hudson River from the bridge, and is fast enough to dodge automatic fire. While Reaper Conduits fully transformed by the tar are granted superhuman stature, being strong enough to survive a gas station explosion and fast enough to dodge Cole's lightning attacks briefly. Sasha's tar is potent enough to potentially control all of Empire City and can induce hallucinations in those strong enough to resist it.

The Dust Men are even more powerful, amplified by Alden's ability to turn scrap and rusty trash into giant mechanical golems to bolster his army's forces. These golems are powerful enough to blast helicopters out of the sky and strudy enough to survive a helicopters engine exploding in their face. While Alden himself may he physically frail and require a cane, he can create a giant trash behemoth capable of putting up a fight against Cole MacGrath.

And finally, the First Sons. A secret society do advanced that people abducted by them have assumed they've been kidnapped by aliens. They created and perfected the Ray Sphere device, a machine that upon detonation sucks the bio-electricity out of none Conduits and pours it into all the Conduits in range, activating their powers and amplifying their existing ones. Every gang leader in inFAMOUS 1 is, at the bare minimum, strong enough to survive the Ray Sphere explosion, which vaporized six city blocks, requiring them to tank an energy equivalent to 5.7 megatons of TNT.

Source:

Kessler spent decades planning his take over of Empire City, getting connections in Washington to keep the quarantine going while he took over. His Conduits possess the power to turn into giants and he's built flying drones that can turn invisible and shoot grenades from afar. Kessler himself possesses all of Cole MacGrath's powers from the first game, with a few additional abilities. He can punch the ground hard enough to make Earthquakes, create giant clones of himself that mind control anyone they touch, including Cole himself if he gets hit, and can teleport in invisible drones to assist him in combat.

But then there's the man himself. The Demon of Empire City. Evil Cole MacGrath. Unjustly framed for the nuking of Empire City, Cole MacGrath in this timeline became a bitter, power hungry tyrant, interest in little else than dominating Empire City like his own kingdom. His vast electrokinetic arsenal allows him to glide, control electricity as it moves at 90% light speed through wires, create forcefields that convert matter into energy, and create thunderstorms that cover all of Empire City, generating an energy equivalent to 34 megatons of TNT.

Source:

In the end, Empire City is reduced to Hell On Earth, dominated under the iron fist of Cole MacGrath, the inFAMOUS terror of Empire City.

Throwdown Breakdown:

I did this matchup because I thought it was funny how much of a stomp it was... in Xefros's favor. Let me explain.

Cole MacGrath, as the strongest guy in Empire City at this point, clocks in at around 34 megatons give or take with near light speed.

Xefros's calc scales him to 95,000,000,000 megatons and near light speed.

Xefros is literally billions of times stronger. Around 2,794,117,650x to be exact.

I've spent most of this show's lifespan hyping inFAMOUS up, so I can knock it down from time to time.

Now, Xefros doesn't solo all of inFAMOUS. He can't do a damn thing to the Beast, be that John White or Cole MacGrath, due to not having any way to kill someone who can come back from a single atom. The Second Son cast are also likely fast enough to, say, turn him into Neon particles before he can do anything.

As far as the first game goes? Xefros is resistant to energy drain, so Cole and Kessler's Bio-leech abilities are out. This just leaves Kessler and Sasha's mind control powers as the only viable win condition, as Xefros has no resistance to it. This is... circumstantial. If this takes place at the end of the game, then Kessler is dead and Sasha is being tortured by the government. If this takes place at the beginning.... Hmm.

Both characters should be roughly equal in speed and I don't see either Sasha or Kessler doing anything to activate Xefros's rage booster and getting instantly mulched. Sasha is generally smart enough to stay inside her lair, which is filled ceiling to floor with her mind controlling tar, so its not like Xefros can confront her there. That said, he's definitely strong enough to just... smash the ground the cave the whole place in on top of her. Which I could see him honestly doing. Xefros has survived by virtue of keeping his head down and out of dangerous situations, so if he can get by without actually having to fight Sasha, well.... he will.

Kessler meanwhile, is a cunning schemer. He'll take a look at the alien tanking literally everything his forces can throw at him and go "nope, not fighting that", then try to recruit the kid against The Beast. Which Xefros... would likely genuinely agree to. O mean, his friend Joey is human, so he'd definitely want to help prevent humanity from going extinct. That's kinda a win for everyone, as Kessler would certainly begin working on backup plans to take out the Beast if Xef can't manage it and keep working on Cole as a backup. Win-win? Kessler would see antagonizing Xefros by attempting to control him as an unnecessary risk, as he has no viable fallbacks if that doesn't work, so he'd try to talk him into it first.

There's this thing in Power Scaling that I just made up a name for called Writers Didn't Do The Math. It's when you take a mathematical look at a character to find that they are hilariously stronger than the narrative of the story actually treats them. See "Batman can tank a nuke" or "Fire Emblem characters can move at escape velocity". Joey Claire is supposed to be an ordinary human girl, yet she inarguably power scales to the same feat Xefros does and is, consequently, billions of times stronger than a nuke. It's a consequence of writers not understanding power scaling as a story telling device or realizing the context it creates, I suppose.

This is likely what turns people off from the community, on top of the general toxicity it produces in people who take these things to seriously, and that's entirely fair. Me personally, I view this as a feature, not a bug. When I tell you Xefros Tritoh can solo a superhero universe because he's billions of times stronger than a nuke, well... just understand that I find it really damn funny.

Tune in next time to see Greg Universe crush Senator Armstrong, I suppose.

....Actually, that's not a bad idea, someone write that down.

This Throwdown's Winner is...

Xefros Tritoh!

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"CONSPIRACY VERDICT IN GOLD-BRICK CASE," Toronto Star. September 22, 1933. Page 3. --- Mercy Is Recommended for Emmanuel Bruno ---- Antonio Mussolino, Patrick Bruno and Emmanuel Bruno were found guilty of conspiring to defraud in connection with the sale of three alleged "gold bricks" for $1,500, by a jury in general session before Judge Widdifield yesterday. The jury's verdict, returned after an hour's deliberation, brought a six-day trial to a close.

Coupled with their verdict was a strong recommendation for mercy toward Emmanuel Bruno.

On a second count of obtaining $1,500 by false pretences with intent to defraud, Antonio Mussolino and Patrick Bruno were found guilty. Mussolino was also convicted on a third count of fraud.

[archangeltwins]

( new fic? new fic. takes place in 2014's 'Kite', which is based off the 1998 manga of the same name. no working title yet, but trigger warning for human trafficking and erotic slavery. also, typical canon violence, misogyny & sexism, drug use, drinking, et cetera. )

"Damn them all! Damn those lyin', greedy, perverted sons of bitches!"

Katerina, oft nicknamed "Kat", stumbled from an alleyway, clutching an alcohol bottle, the watery contents sloshing. Tasted like fermented dog piss, but did she ever need the edge. Her hands shook, her stomach ached more. She hadn't eaten in a week? Two weeks? 'Sides, gutter-rat wasn't real meat. Wasn't her fault she'd been given the runaround on her last taste of Amp. Needing more of the drug had driven her to desperation, much like the rest in the slums of the metropolis. Rounding a corner, she shoved aside those who got in her way, some making hushed remarks. A couple older boys heard the commotion, their roadside chat interrupted. The leader, she assumed, cast a glance over, ginger-haired and gold-toothed. His faux-fur coat adorned with colorful patches, a lit cigarette between his lips. "Looky looky here, fellas! Got ourselves a little lost dame! No tags, no name. Unclaimed merchandise." The rest of his gang snickered, some wolf-whistling at her. "And so, what's a pretty face like you doin' hangin' around a place like this? Hm?" From behind, his arm looped her shoulders, prying the nearly-empty from her grasp. Taking a last swig, he coughed when the drink hit the back of his throat. Tossing it to the sidewalk, his boot ground into the pieces with a sick crunch. Blue eyes flashed under matted brunette locks, hard as granite as his fingers slid the strap of her dress low on her arm. Treated like a piece of meat, an object, even in broad daylight. Naught but a product to buy and use. “I don' have to tell you nothin', asshole.” With a sudden, sharp twist, he was pinned, her palm giving him a rather messy pavement facial. He howled as bone snapped clean, nose broken and lip split. His cronies jumped back, startled like deer, then dragged her off. One put a knife up, the blade hovering a hair from her jugular. Their leader was then helped to his feet, bleeding from both nostrils. He spat gobs of it in her face, anger contorting his features. "Whores like you should just spread an' fuck us men anyways, no lip needed!" A harsh slap rang out, the hard strike reddening her cheek. Backhanded. The sting of an open cut met the grimy city air. A multitude of hands tore at her clothes, ripping her necklace. The bullet bounced on the concrete, sharp ping ringing out. She stuggled with her attackers as they swept her into the alleyway, lashing out between the red haze and heady intoxication. One of the cronies, a rather crook-nosed troublemaker, yelped when gunshots rang out.

"Think she's had an earful, mates. Time to leg it!"

Crawling into the building's shadow, Katerina nursed her swollen cheek while still half under. She visibly flinched when two figures in heavy button suits appeared, turning her face away. "Our lucky day, hm? You caught the boss' eye when you put out 'is lights." The first - a dark-skin man in orange - mused, kneeling to eye-level. Tilting her chin, he made out the stark print, dirtied skin sliced from the man's ring. The second growled in warning to those scuttling past, hefting his rifle to his shoulder. Broad, built like brick shithouses they were. "She's too thin. Big man said to leave the corner-whores. Let the Numbers get their fill of street-skank." Orange-wear mentioned. His partner rolled his eyes. "Nuh-uh. What boss wants, boss gets. You wanna end up like Jeppie? Frontal lobe skewered? Then grab 'er."

Two pairs of heavy hands graced her back and shoulders, side by side as they hustled her into an old junker that drove up. The motor clacking jumped around her brain, pushed unceremoniously into the backseat. Out the window Katerina spied silhouettes, thick smog coiling around their heads like crooked halos. The Collapse. The chaos that followed afterward made other worldly powers prime targets. Bombs, warfare in the roads. Bodies lining streets. Gutters full of blood. Police cracking down on half dozen gangs every week, tweaks trying to muscle their way into the ranks.

Crookedness and corruption reigning supreme. This residential district, among several, were owned by the Thornhills, their slang recognizable in speech. Cockney, east-end inspired. The figurehead having expatriated from London to what was left of states after the Fall. Their gang easily singled out by the way their dress was perfectly put-together, emulating the mob families of the roaring nineteen-twenties. To hear the term "taking a walk" became something to fear, leaving the police to tweeze brain matter from ceiling-tile.

Bastards, the lot of them. People. Other people. Bleary-eyed and zombie-like, shuffling in shadows of once great businesses that'd made the world go round. Trash overflowing from cans to the street, dumpsters set fire. Dogs fought over scraps of meat -- questionable enough. Children with emaciated frames peeking out from boarded windows.

Now the name of the game was sex and murder, for the right price. Those young enough to work without pay became a valuable commodity, a handful of wealthy, shadowy string-pullers looked to as subjugators and sellers.

[lizardinkart]

Lizard Reads Ward

Arc 2: Flare

Lizard Cry Counter: 2

TL;DR: Cool shit happening this arc with more fun worldbuilding around the state of Capes, Victoria’s coping mechanisms and hero complex, and some especially funky stuff exploring other Earths and how the shards/triggers are getting extra-special fucky after Gold Morning. We finally get to meet the rest of the PHO group and they are all wonderful, and Wildbow is flexing with the extended metaphor of powers as trauma. 8.75/10

Alrighty, let’s get wormin’! 

Once again, splitting this into mini-arcs so I can keep track of it: 1. Job-Hunting, 2. Broken Trigger Shenanigans, and 3. Group Therapy(?).

Part 1: Job-Hunting

Oh, if this did not capture the soul-crushing nature of the job search so well lol. I really enjoy Victoria’s engagement with each of the big groups that have cropped up since GM, their ideologies, and the optics that each group focuses on. Because if Victoria Dallon understands anything, it’s Aesthetic (in both physical and ideological appearance, thank you Carol (derogatory)). I think the bit where the recruiter asks if Panacea can also be part of the package deal crushed my soul so hard cause mmmmmm. We all have that family member that is perceived very differently from how they actually act towards the people they ostensibly care about. Adding this to the list of times I wanted to hold Victoria gently in my hands. 

Crystal continues to be a treat, I appreciate that she doesn’t own scissors. I find it so interesting that she wanted to be part of the Parahuman Paramilitary, but I guess stability has its allure in times of absolute chaos. Also gonna slide in here the bit about the people Victoria talked to about joining the totally-not-a-cult that comes back later in the arc, I appreciate the “if I can save even one person it will have been worth it” mentality. 

The hospital scene was really nice, both with Tempera/Fume Hood and then taking the kids flying. I think a lot of people can be very cynical about how doing stuff for others can be very self-serving (esp someone as famously cynical as WB /affectionate), but I think that this came across very genuinely, and it’s actually something that can be very good for trauma recovery by just doing things to get yourself out of your own head. Especially when it came to the kid with the friend who had triggered, Victoria really didn’t have to go out her way to make sure that the kid was taken care of. I think that this once again shows her character. Taylor could never (shoutout to the kids that triggered in her territory). 

Part 2: Broken Trigger Shenanigans

Oh man oh man oh man. I really did come into this part with a sigh because really, up until now Wildbow had not wowed me with the new stuff he was exploring with powers/shards, but this section grabbed me by the throat and threw me across the room into a brick wall. I appreciate that this is carving out Ward’s new identity as its own story with more to say outside of just Victoria, but also work as reflections of her and her unique experiences with her power/shard. It’s neat!

But aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa man this was downright tragic to read. Once again, WB hits with the suspense of “something is happening on a timeline, and all you can do it be there for when shit hits the fan.” The Parahuman Paramilitary was funky and off-putting as any type of military institution tends to be. Because ACAB, that’s why. 

Corona Pollentia warfare was enacted here, and the fact that people were literally stopped in space was horrifying and distressing as all hell, Worm never really got to touch on when triggers went wrong because shit was already bad enough being, well, triggers. But the bit at the end with the last guy standing not wanting to be subsumed into a collective (shard/entity?) consciousness was haunting as hell and so, so cool. I can’t wait to see how the entities continue to fuck around and Victoria and the Gang continue to find out. 

Part 3: Group Therapy(?)

Subsisting off of a comfort diet of brownie ice cream and shit TV, Victoria hangs out and Dr. Yamada pulls back the curtain on doctor-patient relationships. Therapists are people too! But it was nice that she thought of giving Victoria something therapy-related to do, even if it was ultimately a ploy to get Victoria to join her little group therapy team and (unsuccessfully) talk them out of doing the whole hero team thing. 

But mmm, I do love me these guys now that we get to really meet them, so down the line we go again!

Kenzie: Still the love of my life, I would kill and die for her. She is so damn earnest and I can respect the hell out of that. Include her in things!!! Give her friends!!! Be nice to her!!! Let her make all the boxes!!!!!! Also I will be deeply upset when we figure out her whole backstory. Preparing to be devastated. 

Sveta: I love that she and Weld are dating and that she is so happy but knowing Wildbow he’s gonna fuck it up somehow and it pisses me off so bad. But for now I will revel in her joy!!! Let her be happy goddammit!!! Also shoutout to her absolutely owning the disability label, I really was like “ah man this is gonna be implied subtext huh” but nope! And I’m really happy about that! But on god the fact that she has a body now??? And she gets to make it pretty and expressive how she wants it???? Kissing her on her forehead she is too good, great even. Unironically the best character. 

Tristan/Byron: Knowing that I have to go back through the PHO chapter and check the timestamps to see which one was in control is simultaneously infuriating and exciting lol. I can’t remember if case 70s appeared in Worm cause if they did I do not remember them. But yet again adding to the weird shit shards do is a thing I will applaud because the specific scenario of “twins who were touching when they triggered” is just horrifying in concept and seems that way in practice as well. I’m placing my bets for the human trafficking being so that they can try to separate themselves. Or something like that IDK. I also wanna slap Tristan on his dumb jock head because sometimes he needs to shut up (tho I feel him. I, too, talk incessantly, see this post series lol). But he gets a pass because he’s nice and makes arms <3

Chris: Breaking out my trusty spray bottle to spritz him every time he’s an antisocial prick. Not necessarily an actual character flaw, I am interested to see what’s gonna happen with this exceptionally small lad, but mmm. He’s an interesting fellow who I think would benefit from touching some grass every now and again. But progress looks different for everyone I guess!

Ashley: She also gets the spray bottle but for being an edgelord. Shadow the Hedgehog called and said tone it down. Once again, very much the Bitch-type of “I have a singular trajectory and will do what I want fuck you all” but in like, a friendship way? Idk, I know everyone loves her (and ships her with Victoria- *cough*) and I also love her, but I would also like to punch her sometimes and I think that is ok! She’s getting better! Maybe! I hope!

Rain: I can smell the little-meow-meow coming off of this guy. This man is a protagonist of another story but got shoved into Ward instead. He is scientifically crafted to be pocket-sized, and if he’s not dead or beat to shit by the end of this story I will eat a shoe. I can tell a sopping wet whipping boy when I see one lol. But in all seriousness, I know that everyone has a lot of shit going on, but Rain’s “it’s complicated” catchphrase is like “Yes, Wildbow, I know he’s your special little guy. It’s ok, you don’t have to be coy about it.” Kinda the way that Amy was in Worm tbh, Wildbow just has favorites he likes to torture sometimes and I have to respect the honesty lol. But yeah, he is genuinely interesting and has some nifty stuff going on w/ his cluster. Very intrigued that Snag is his clustermate, and how their power-exchange works. Again- cool shit!  But oh my god someone’s gonna step on him. Too small lol. 

But all that being said, I appreciated the actual group therapy going on here, and that Victoria is getting some buddies to talk stuff through with, even though this really does seem like a setup for failure. The talk about logistics triggered the “gotta schedule D&D” part of my brain and whoo boy that was some anxiety lol. But I am intrigued to see where this lil team goes and what they do in the story moving forward! Also, a very strong end to the Arc with “This is the way things are now” “...Fuck that.” Stuck that landing, let’s get some change rolling!

(Also the interlude was funky, love seeing Weld and Crystalclear again. The theocracy seems like it mayyyy be an issue tho moving forward. Maybe lol)

Final Thoughts

I think that this arc had a lot to offer, and really started to solidify the direction that Ward is gonna try to go in. I can already feel the length of the story though, that 2 arcs have felt like 6, but ya know. It’s the format! But there’s a part of my brain that really wants to go in and cull a lot of stuff that I know people love but is just like...this is so long. But other than that- I think that finally getting around to the new group is good, and I think the biggest takeaway from this arc is the diversity of Shard Shenanigans. Looking forward to that making shit go sideways lol. 

But yeah! That’s all I got, not as insightful perhaps as the last couple entries but I hope y’all like the more first-impressions type rambling. As always, would love to hear what y’all think of this arc!

Until next time- Ward out ✨

[aplacetosharemyfics]

The Downfall of Susan St. Clair: Everyone has Secrets

Warning: This chapter involves death, abortion, teen pregnancy, unwanted pregnancy, heavy drinking (drunk), and suggestions of rape. Please tell me if there are relevant tags that should be added.

Finally, after only six chapters, the main characters actually properly speak to each other.

Mrs. James would return late that night. Truth be told, she returned late most nights. And late didn’t mean sneaking in at 9 pm. Late meant arriving home after Maisie had left for school the next day. The house was large and quiet without her presence.

Maisie pulled her father’s jacket tighter around her torso, feeling the loose jeans around her legs rather than the cool night air. Very little of her father remained in their house, but the cream jacket, worn around the elbows and fraying at the cuffs, had been left behind. It had been an anniversary present many years ago. Maisie remembered the face he made, the way he joked he was going up in the world for even owning such a jacket. But he’d worn it every day until the day when a tear had developed under the right arm. For his birthday, Maisie had snuck the jacket out of his wardrobe to fix, hiding in her bedroom to carefully stitch up the softened fabric. She hadn’t been as apt then, her stitches large and unsightly, but the result was a wearable jacket. It was only a couple of days before his birthday, with the jacket neatly wrapped and hidden in her bedroom, when he left.

An evening stroll had seemed like a good idea. The night sky was clear above her, stars twinkling down at her. Each house she walked past was big enough to hold her house twice, each surrounded by its own garden carefully curated down to a single blade of grass. Through the windows, the walls were decorated with family portraits, couches large enough to sleep on filled the rooms, and families sat together in the warmth, laughing together. Maisie never lingered outside any particular house, content with a single glance before passing by.

She had a plan for when she was older, for the house she was going to live in. It wasn’t going to be too big as extra space only meant more cleaning to do. Carpet would line the floor, thick enough that your foot sank in, and lying down felt cushioned. The rooms would change and develop the more she saw through the brightly lit windows. For a while she’d been sure of soft cotton curtains until she saw a movie where the heroine hid in thick velvet curtains, wrapping the heavy fabric around her. But with all her imagining, the bedrooms were still empty.

The next house was the largest in the area, a massive brick house with warm light flooding out from inside. Maisie had always wanted to see what was inside, envisioning gold trimmings and butlers at every corner. It was the closest she got to nobility.

She’d paused for a second, just long enough to take in the whole house, when the front door burst open. Maisie recognized the gang of girls who’d been the talk of the school since the school term started. They rushed by her, jumping into the T-Bird’s car before disappearing into the night, their laughter being the last thing to leave. The front door was left open. This was her chance to finally see what was inside. And, she reasoned, they were unlikely to be leaving in such a manner if something hadn’t happened inside.

The entrance hall was massive, a staircase curving around the walls leading upstairs. It wasn’t all gold plating and fancy servants, but it still made Maisie’s mouth fall open. Remembering her manners, she timidly knocked on the door. To be honest, she’d expected the house to be empty. But instantly, a girl appeared from the next room over and threw herself into Maisie’s arms. Fumbling, Maisie had barely enough time to react before Dot sunk into her arms like a cannonball, pressing her head into Maisie’s chest.

“No one wanted to kiss me,” she whimpered.

As Maisie panicked – because what else do you do in such a situation – other girls started to appear in similar states of intoxication. Maisie recognised the Soc girls, the same girls who Dot had invited to her party earlier that day. They leaned on the door frame – or any other solid-ish object – to keep themselves upright, arguing loudly about who the best kisser was amongst the boys, their words slurred. This was the epic party, Maisie realised. Like everyone else, she’d imagined what happened at the Soc’s parties. She hadn’t imagined getting drunk and inviting your nemesis.

Gently lowering Dot to the ground, where she curled up into a little puddle of tears, she shut the front door before venturing further into the house. It wasn’t just the girls who’d been invited. She’d seen an invitation in Buddy’s hand as he talked with Susan. Each part of the house seemed more lavish than the last, but Maisie wasn’t paying attention to that anymore. A wooden door, the handle expertly tied shut with a curtain cord, caught her attention. Thankfully, before she decided whether it was a good idea to release whatever (or whoever) was locked down there, the question answered itself. Monstrous thumping came from the other side.

“Please, let us out!”

“We promise not to spike drinks anymore.”

“Please, we can’t hold it in any longer.”

Leaving the boys in whatever state they’d gotten themselves into, Maisie quickly searched the remaining rooms until she found the party room, still complete with a punch bowl. The smell hit her as she entered, a sickly-sweet stench of pineapple. Getting closer only made the smell worse, and there was very little chance of smelling the added alcohol. She was searching the surroundings for a bottle or similar when someone spoke behind her.

“Maisie?”

The sound of the voice calling her name made her heart jump. In all the mystery and adrenaline, Maisie had forgotten who else had been invited to the party. Wheeling round, she found Susan leaning against the doorway, a soft smile on her face. The room was silent. Pushing herself off the frame, Susan sauntered forwards, momentum barely keeping her on her feet. She must have partaken of the spiked punch as well. Maisie remained frozen, limbs refusing to move, as Susan approached. When she was close enough, Susan placed her hands on Maisie’s shoulders, swaying slightly as she looked into her eyes.

“I’m so glad you could make it.”

She pulled Maisie into a hug, wrapping her arms around her torso and burying her head into her shoulder.

Maisie’s mother had often told her that people become more truthful when they were drunk. Maisie slowly raised her hand to stroke Susan’s head, feeling the soft hair under her fingers. What was she going to do?

For hours – it seemed – they stood in that room, wrapped in each other’s arms.

“Susan?”

Maisie’s legs were starting to shake from supporting the two bodies.

“Susan?”

Awkwardly reaching up, she shifted Susan’s head. The girl had fallen asleep in her arms. Sighing in relief, she moved Susan – half dragging, half carrying – to a nearby couch. Freed from the weight, she remembered the other girls. Hurrying through the house, she took the long route to avoid the locked door. Leant against the wall, or slumped on the floor, the other girls had all passed out. Apart from Dot, who was still sitting in front of the door, sobbing.

“Dot?”

Maisie carefully stepped over the unconscious bodies and crouched down beside her, arranging her face into a comforting expression. The girl snuffled, stopping crying to look up at her. Her eyebrows slowly scrunched together.

“Who?”

Maisie sighed, relieved that Dot seemed a little more coherent than earlier. She glanced over at the other girls, drawing Dot’s attention to them.

“Everyone’s gone to sleep,” she explained, speaking softly. “Can they stay over?”

Dot’s lower lip trembled as she nodded.

“It was supposed to be a sleepover,” she whimpered. “I prepared popcorn.”

“Can you help me get them to bed?”

Dot nodded, clambering to her feet. Maisie could have probably moved the girls by herself, but she didn’t want any of them waking up and causing a riot when they didn’t recognise her. Also, she didn’t know where the bedrooms were in this goliath of a house. Thankfully, Dot was fairly stable on her feet, and together they started moving the girls. None of the girls woke up as they transported (dragged) them through the house and deposited them into one of the many bedrooms available. Dot kept surprising Maisie by opening yet another door to a bedroom, so many that she wondered if there were any rooms that weren’t bedrooms. After the last girl, Dot collapsed onto the bed beside her, snuggling up beside her on top of the covers.

“Dot?”

Maisie tried shaking the girl’s shoulder, but she was already fast asleep, little snores coming from her mouth. Finding another blanket, she carefully wrapped it around Dot’s shoulders, before stepping back to look at the scene. Just this morning she couldn’t even ask them to move so she could reach her locker. And now she was putting them to bed. It felt surreal.

Wandering back through the house, Maisie finally allowed herself to take in her ornate surroundings. The grand staircase curled around the walls, its wood barrister smooth to the touch. A curved doorway led through to the living room, softening the passage between the two spaces. Framing the fireplace, a bookcase had been built into the wall, featuring an extensive collection of leatherbound books.

Maisie stopped. Susan had woken up.

To be honest, she’d almost forgotten about her. A passing thought which had been dismissed when she remembered the couch larger than Maisie’s bed that she’d laid her on. But now Susan’s eyes were open, and they watched her as she stood, shocked, in the doorway.

“What happened?”

Maisie didn’t move. Susan wasn’t just awake.

“The drinks were spiked.”

Susan frowned and tried to sit up. The action was surprisingly painful, but she finally managed to get upright, her head throbbing. She was too tired to get angry.

“Was it Jane?”

She was merely asking, not blaming. Things after taking that fateful drink were hazy. Maisie shook her head.

“It was your boys.”

She knew no other way to describe them without insulting Susan as well, and as the T-Birds had been hanging around, she felt the need to clarify. Susan merely nodded, like she’d expected the answer. That didn’t mean she wasn’t angry or disappointed in the boys. But she couldn’t be bothered to deal with those emotions right now.

“Where are they?”

“Locked away.”

Susan raised her eyebrows, the maximum amount of effort she was able to put into being shocked. It was true she couldn’t remember the boys hanging around even before they started drinking the punch. A sickening wave of relief crashed over her as she realised how close she had been to another incident. She couldn’t imagine what her mother would do if it had happened again. Drawing herself out of the thoughts, she turned her attention back to Maisie. She looked out of place amongst the luxury décor.

“Was it you?”

Maisie shook her head.

“I think it was Jane.”

Susan smiled weakly, letting out a dry laugh. It was ironic, to be protected from such an act by Jane Facciano. The girl who famously went all the way. Even after all Susan had done to her…

“I should go,” Maisie muttered, turning to leave.

“Wait!”

Susan leapt off the couch, aiming to grab Maisie’s hand before a stab of pain in her head sent her to her knees. Immediately, Maisie was at her side, intertwining her cold hands with Susan’s. So, in a way, she’d succeeded. Wincing as the pain refused to go away, Susan peeked up at Maisie. It was the same dark eyes, though this time they observed her with worry rather than fear. Somehow it only made them even more beautiful.

“Can you stay with me?”

Maisie bit her lip. The clock on the wall showed an impossibly late time. She wasn’t worried about her mother, but she couldn’t be sure when Dot’s parents were going to return.

“For a bit.”

Carefully, she helped Susan back onto the couch before gingerly sitting down next to her, her hand still wrapped around Susan’s.

“I don’t want to be alone,” Susan whispered, her voice shaking.

Maisie stared at the framed photo of Dot on the wall opposite her. She prayed Susan wouldn’t notice her heartbeat quickening.

“I can’t do it again,” Susan continued. “All those people judging me for something I had no control over.”

Her hand started trembling. Maisie slowly tightened her grip until the tremors stopped.

“I can’t give my mother another thing to lord over my head.”

She paused, turning to look at Maisie. There had never been a chance for her to see her closeup. She looked at the freckles that covered her pale skin, a feature her mother would try to ‘fix’ with makeup, but she couldn’t imagine Maisie without. She observed the faint blush spreading over her cheeks and to her ears. If she truly hated Susan, she wouldn’t have saved her, wouldn’t be sat on this couch gripping her hand hard enough for the fear to melt away.

“I want to trust you.”

Maisie glanced at Susan, their eyes meeting as she took in the words. Wrinkling her eyebrows, she opened her mouth to tell Susan how bad that idea was. But Susan spoke first.

“I went all the way with Buddy.”

She wanted to continue: “unlike Jane”, but this wasn’t about her. It was about Susan. With the truth out there, it was as if a large weight had suddenly left her shoulders. She felt silly for worrying over it for so long. And that was partly because of the shock and worry that Maisie showed, rather than the rejection and disgust she’d feared.

“That’s why we split up.”

She recounted the embarrassed look on his face as he’d approached her the next day, awkwardly scratching the back of his head as he refused to look her in the eye. He had apologised, in a way that only Buddy could – rejecting all possible blame – before telling her that he had realised during the sex that he didn’t really love her. And he couldn’t lie to himself and be in a relationship when he didn’t truly love the other person.

“And I got pregnant,” she whispered.

Her mother’s face when she realised that Susan was pregnant, the horror that her precious virgin daughter had done something so dirty, and the careful consideration of whether this could rope Buddy back into her grips. But the thought of the rumours circulating that her daughter was such a slut to have a child in high school shut down any schemes. Susan could remember the horrible feeling each morning, waking up knowing something was growing inside her, proof she was a promiscuous whore.

“We got rid of it without telling Buddy.”

The doctor had been discrete, it was merely a normal check-up on her record, and no one else was told. But she felt the eyes anyway, like everyone knew and were laughing at her, at her perfect little act when they knew what she was really like underneath.

Maisie pulled Susan closer so she could wrap in her a hug. Her movements were stiff and awkward, new to the concept of initiating human touch, but she slowly relaxed as Susan allowed herself to be comforted.

“I killed my sister.”

Susan backed up, the words echoing in her ears.

“Not on purpose,” Maisie quickly reassured.

Unsurprisingly, this wasn’t enough to make Susan relax.

“We were in the car, my day, me, and her. I’d cut my finger on something, and it was bleeding a lot. I was only seven at the time.”

She spoke as if it had happened in another lifetime.

“I was scared and tried to get my father to look at it, to fix it.”

Maisie let out a dry laugh.

“I thought he could do anything back then. But all I was doing was distracting him. The car ended off the road, my sister ended up dead, and my dad left.”

Susan swallowed. The calm expression on Maisie’s face was scaring her. Slowly, Maisie smiled.

“We both have secrets to hide.”

And Susan finally realised she was no longer thinking about Buddy and the baby. Her breathing had returned to normal; her stomach no longer swam with fictitious children. She looked closer at Maisie and noticed the gleam in her eyes from unsplit tears, the tremble in her hand, the stiffness of the smile. They were the same, hiding their emotions behind layers of masks, though Maisie had had years to construct her walls. Allowing her tears to spill for both of them, Susan reached forwards and took Maisie’s hands in hers, pressing her warm palms against Maisie’s cold skin.

“Thanks.”

[deathfavor]

@barrenstars said: ran frequently finds himself wondering just why he and his brother agreed to join this gang, all the way in tokyo. he and rindo lived in roppongi, which wasn't that far away. it just meant that ran had to actually get out of bed and get a train frequently, even for something as silly as a meeting. while his brother always showed up with a bounce in his step, ran looked like rindo had dragged him by the scruff of his neck all the way from roppongi. if izana requests another early morning meeting ran might just disappear from the face of the earth, actually. nonetheless, he's here now, leaning tiredly against a brick wall while more members arrive - rindo made sure they arrived on time, but they ended up a little early. folding his arms over his chest, the haitani allows for his eyes to flutter shut for a moment, contemplating allowing himself to slip away into a soft slumber, only to remind himself of the situation he's in. with an irritated tut, he blinks his eyes open, only to be surprised as a figure comes around and into view, a little too close for comfort. he jumps but immediately relaxes with a scowl once he sees it was hanma, his bad mood only spiralling as he sees that mischievous glint in those golden eyes of his. ❝ halloween isn't for another two weeks, you know, ❞ ran informs with a sleazy smirk, readjusting himself against the wall. ❝ you can take your mask off. ❞

Hanma doesn't much care for these meetings - he doesn't mind them per se, but they weren't of particular interest to him. That wasn't to say Hanma didn't find his OWN ways to have some fun without having Kisaki nag him or elbow him in the ribs. Not that it hurts, it doesn't, but it isn't exactly fun either when he'll have to listen to a lecture later. Although, Izana is one of the few people that Hanma can say is capable of impressing him. A guy that can make all these other powerful guys listen to him is certainly capable. Although he also has that same, slightly too wide stare that he remembers from someone else from the past.

Well, crazy knows crazy. Hanma's good at finding crazy.

Hanma rounds the corner and finds himself only a few feet from Ran Haitani - and it seems the reaper has shocked him. There's nothing to save Ran from Hanma's sharp vision, and his bored expression turns into one of smug satisfaction. His lips curve up and he laughs when he sees the scowl that appears on Ran's face.

" Boo ~ " Hanma's mocking, sing-song voice fills the space. He doesn't have to rub it in that he saw the big bag king of Roppongi jump from seeing him. Because he's Hanma, and he pisses people off just for shits and giggles.

Hanma laughs at the words and just to piss off Ran further, he leans against the wall right next to him. Not quite enough to touch shoulders, but far too close than any sane person would choose to stand, much less someone bantering with another person. " Aww, still believe the boogeyman and demons only come out at midnight on Halloween? That's adorable. "

Eerie gold flicks up and down over Ran but why is hardly decipherable. Then again, that was the thing with Hanma. For as obnoxious and loud as he was, no one could ever decipher what was really going on behind his eyes. His personality drove people to look away from how dangerous he truly was. Only the smart ones knew to stay on guard against him. The smart ones also knew better than to engage with Hanma but that didn't mean the reaper couldn't lure them in all the same.

" Besides, isn't two weeks from Halloween basically Halloween anyways? Get in the spirit some. You going as a princess this year? " He asks, a derisive smile plastered on his face as he meets Ran's sleazy smirk head on. If anything, it seems to encourage him.