#shadow henchman

[kkremii]

Fortnite x Ace Attorney⚖️

[doodzoodz]

Divorce 😔

Also thank you, Henchman.

[katanashipping]

@love-killed-the-superstar Following our recent discussions, I just need to point out again that Shredder burned down April's whole ass shop in the first season of 2k3, and after she rebuilt it identically, brick by brick, he is STILL like Hm. I wonder where I may be able to find my enemies now. Such a mystery. Alas.

Meanwhile, Karai is like "I need to deliver a threat to Leonardo. I'll just leave it with April" and breezes into the shop pretty as you please.

[elm-writes-stories]

Cuphead: Isle of Shadows (Rewrite)

*Hey, guys, I'm back with the first episode of Cuphead: Isle of Shadows rewrite. This is published on July 2, 2023. If you guys like this episode, don't be afraid to vote, reblog, and comment! That will always be appreciated. Thank you for taking the time to read and have a good day/evening. Enjoy!*

Episode One: The Unhinged Tea Kettle

In the woods outside of Inkwell Isle City, the wind howled in the middle of the night and shook the branches violently. From the touch of the cold, the trees were covered in ice. The snow was deep enough to where one's foot would sink when walking through. Within the snow storm, a teapot house sheltered an old tea kettle. Elder Kettle, as many citizens called him, slept soundly in his bedroom with a snore coming from his long spout.

An abrupt knock came from his front door, waking Elder Kettle up with a groan.

“Huh?” Elder Kettle moaned while his eyes fluttered close.

Someone pounded on the door this time.

Elder Kettle snapped himself awake and got up from the bed. “Ugh, alright! Alright! I’m coming!” He put on his glasses to see the time and his slippers to walk out of his bedroom. “Who’s knockin’ at three in the morning in the middle of the storm?” Elder Kettle headed downstairs and opened the front door. To his surprise, no one was there. He looked both before looking down to see two baby cups crying in the basket on his porch.

“Oh my!!!” Elder Kettle picked the basket up and took them inside immediately before the cold could touch the babies. “Who left you guys in the middle of the snow storm?!”

The baby cups wailed while Elder Kettle hurried to place the basket on the couch and get the fire going in his fireplace. The babies continued to cry, shivering in the cold.

“It’s alright. It’s alright. I got you. I got you.”

The fire warmed up the room once it started to blaze. Elder Kettle noticed that the babies’ cries faded into sniffles. He sighed in relief and walked over to the basket. He searched for any notes that the parents might have left behind. He only found one in between the baby cups. Elder Kettle took the note and squinted at it through his square glasses.

“Dear old friend,” Elder Kettle read the letter. “Please take care of our boys, Cuphead and Mugman. They are our pride and joy that we must sadly give away for their safety. Do not be alarm when you see those two potions in the basket. These potions are our gift to the boys once they’ve grown old enough. The potions will protect the boys. Thank you, dear friend. We trust that they will be safer in your hands. Sincerely, Murray and Lily.”

Elder Kettle stopped and took a moment to register what was happening to his old friends. He looked out of the window and tried to find Murray and Lily. But he couldn’t see though. However, in the distance, he heard a gunshot. Elder Kettle gasped in fear and shook his head. It was not safe out there to check if it was actually his friends who got shot or some hunters hunting something.

“Oh no,” Elder Kettle uttered in shock. He clutched his chest and looked at the baby cups, who cried for food. He headed back to the boys and tucked them in. He hurried over to find food in his kitchen and was able to get some bottle of milk. Elder Kettle hurried back over to the kids with the bottles and sat on the couch next to the warm fire. He picked the boys up and fed them the bottle, cradling them both in his arms. He looked outside into the snow, seeing nothing but ice and cold.

With a deep breath, he looked down at the two baby cups. Then, he shifted his gaze over at the basket and peeked inside to find two blue bright potions kept in the small glass capsules. Elder Kettle didn’t know what was in those potions nor did he want to know. He held the baby boys closer to him.

“Well, Cuphead, Mugman,” The old tea kettle replied. “It looks like you boys will be staying here with me for a while. Maybe even permanent. I promise I’ll take care of you boys. I’ll take care of ya.”

The cups were done with their formula food.

“That’s better,” Elder Kettle said while watching the baby cups falling in sleep in his arms, safe in his hold. Elder Kettle smiled at the sight, but he lost the smile when he thought of their parents. How they met was too long of a story to tell the boys. Maybe someday, they will hear it. Someday.

~.~

Fifteen Years Later:

Cuphead couldn’t help but stare at the burned spot on the ground inches away from his feet. He was silent. His eyes and his porcelain face went pale. All he could do was stand there and hold the golden pitchfork in his small yellow-gloved grasp.

“Mugman?” Cuphead uttered.

There was no response.

“M-Mugman…?” The tears leaked from the corner of his eyes. His lips wobbled and there was nothing else he could say.

Cuphead collapsed on his knees, releasing the golden pitchfork. He shook his head and began digging his hands into the dirt. “No! No! No, Mugsy!!! NO!!!! GIVE ME BACK MY BRUDDA!!!!”

“Since you took something of great value to me, I will take something of great value to you.”

“Pfft, there’s nothing that you can take from me that I care about.”

Cuphead stopped digging the dirt, breathing heavily. The words he said about not caring about anything was only just a bark. He didn’t think the Devil was going to take Mugman. He didn’t think the Devil would fuss over about the stupid magical pitchfork. He didn’t think his brother would end up in Hell all because Cuphead was horsing around with Devil.

He didn’t think. He didn’t think. He didn’t think…

“Say goodbye to Cuphead.”

“Goodbye to Cuphead…”

Cuphead started to sob once he heard Mugman’s voice playing in his head. How frightened of the Devil they both were. Cuphead was more afraid of him than his brother. He shook his porcelain head and stood up on his feet. His vision was blurry from the tears streaming from his face. He picked up their conjoined bikes, something his brother built. Cuphead didn’t want to be reminded of what he lost today. He had to head back to Elder Kettle’s. He rode the bicycles throughout the woods, taking the Devil’s pitchfork with him. His vision getting more blurry from the tears. Cuphead wiped them away with his sleeves, whimpering.

Once he arrived at Elder Kettle’s house, Cuphead hid the pitchfork in the bushes, hoping that no one, including Elder Kettle, would see it. He hurried towards the front gate before leaning his head against it and sobbing as quietly as he could.

“Cuphead?”

Cuphead wiped the tears as fast as he could before Elder Kettle opened the gate to notice the cup’s red puffy eyes.

“What’s wrong, boy? Did you lose something?” Elder Kettle asked in a soft tone.

Cuphead couldn’t say a word without breaking down, so he covered his face and nodded his head.

“What could you possibly lose?” Elder Kettle probed in a softer voice.

“M-M-Mu-My pocket knife,” Cuphead lied.

“Oh, is that all?” Elder Kettle inquired. “Well, that can be easily replaced. It’s not like you lost Mugman—” Elder Kettle paused as soon as he noticed a missing seat on their bikes. “Cuphead…where’s your brother?”

“He’s—He’s—He’s—AAAAHH!!” Cuphead collapsed and cried into his guardian’s arms, hugging him.

“Whoa, whoa, Cuphead—” Elder Kettle soothed. “—hey now, take deep breaths. Deep breaths, son.” He took deep breaths to show Cuphead to repeat after him. Cuphead took deep breaths like he was instructed to do so. “Alright, here’s the deal. I’ll make you some breakfast and you will tell me everything that happened, okay? Do we have ourselves a deal?”

Cuphead whimpered and nodded his head.

“Good,” Elder Kettle said and noticed the snot coming out of Cuphead’s small red nose. “Eh…we’ll add some tissues while we are at it.”

Cuphead nodded his head in agreement. He made his way inside of the house. Before Elder Kettle could join him, he noticed something in the bushes. The old tea kettle walked towards the bushes and found the Devil’s pitchfork. A gasp of horror escaped his lips. He picked it up and looked at the bikes next to it. Did Cuphead have that the entire time? Was this the reason for his brother’s abduction? Cuphead owed him a lot of explanation.

Elder Kettle headed back in the house with the pitchfork in his grasp. 

~.~

Elder Kettle was making some pancakes with dread. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know what the boys were up to with the Devil’s pitchfork. But he knew he must know. He had to know for the boys’ safety. He shifted his gaze back over at Cuphead, who had been moping and staring at the table in front of him. The tissues were overfilled in the trash bin next to his feet. It was unlike of Cuphead to be this way. Elder Kettle flipped the pancakes over on the stove and tossed them up in the air. He flipped the last one over to his spout and blew smoke from his spout, sending the pancakes flying to Cuphead.

Cuphead lifted his plate weakly without looking up. The pancakes lined up and hit against the wall diagonally above his head. He turned his plate flat and moved it to the side slightly to still catch all the pancakes falling down. Once he caught all of the pancakes in his plate, Cuphead began to nibble on the pancake on top without butter and syrup.

Elder Kettle frowned at the sight and headed over to the table, sitting by him.

“Are you calming down?” the old tea kettle asked.

Cuphead nodded his head with his lips wobbling.

“Okay. Now, tell me everything that happened to you two,” Elder Kettle said softly.

Cuphead sniffled and looked up at his guardian. “W-We was just horsin’ around. We-We—I wasn’t thinkin’ that Mugsy was going to get kidnapped.”

“Were you boys horsing around with that pitchfork?”

“What pitchfork?”

Elder Kettle squinted at Cuphead. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.” He pointed at the pitchfork in the living room, leaning against the piano.

Cuphead gasped in shock.

“I found it in the bushes by your bikes,” Elder Kettle said lowly. “What were you boys doing with the Devil’s pitchfork?”

“Just messin’ around with it,” Cuphead answered, looking away from Elder Kettle.

“Uh-huh. And someone took Mugman…it wasn’t the Devil, was it?” Elder Kettle asked with the sense of hope it was anyone else other than the creature he feared the most.

Cuphead hugged his arms, trying to hold in his tears.

“Was it the Devil?” Elder Kettle probed.

Cuphead started to whimper. The red bent-strawed cup didn’t have to say anything.

The old tea kettle looked away from the cup and stared at the golden pitchfork. “How long have you had that pitchfork?”

“Since today.”

“Cuphead…”

“I’m bein’ honest,” Cuphead responded defensively.

Elder Kettle arched a brow. “Really? Because it was gettin’ hard to tell.”

Cuphead frowned and wiped the tears away.

“I’ve noticed you boys have been sneaking off at night. First, you both landed in jail for stealing in the cookie factory and now, Mugman is kidnapped by the Devil of all people. All because you both were horsin’ around with something that’s going to get you both killed. Do you not realize how dangerous the Devil is? He is the collector of souls for goodness sakes! He devours the innocent and preys on the prideful. Makin’ deals with him will cost you your soul!”

Cuphead was silent, staring at his food.

Elder Kettle sighed and looked away. “Maybe I should’ve done better to protect you boys. I should’ve known that you both would run into the Devil eventually. I should’ve told you to watch out for him. What was I thinkin’?”

Cuphead looked up at Elder Kettle. He softened his gaze at the old tea kettle and frowned. The cup looked back at his food, pondering on what to do.

Elder Kettle got up from his seat and walked away into the living room to go upstairs. Cuphead could assume that he was going to take a nap to think of all of this. An idea slowly formed into his head. He knew what he had to do to save his brother. He got up from his seat and reached to grab it. Before he could grab it, Elder Kettle’s hand grabbed the pitchfork.

Cuphead gasped and looked up at Elder Kettle, who had his military uniform on and a glare at the young cup.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Elder Kettle growled, snatching the pitchfork away from Cuphead’s grasp.

“I wanna rescue my brudda,” Cuphead answered with determination.

Elder Kettle softened his gaze and sighed. The old tea kettle grabbed Cuphead by the handle.

“E-Elder Kettle? What are you doin’?”

Elder Kettle didn’t respond except to carrying Cuphead upstairs. Cuphead began to struggle in his guardian’s hold.

“Elder Kettle? What are you doin’? Why won’t you answer me?”

Elder Kettle headed into the boys’ bedroom, locking the window. After he locked the window, he set Cuphead down on his bed.

“Stay here,” Elder Kettle commanded.

“What?! No way! I’m comin’ with you!” Cuphead argued.

“No! You are going to stay right here until I come back with your brother,” Elder Kettle demanded. “Don’t make this any harder than it has to be.”

Cuphead shook his head and tried to get up to get pass Elder Kettle, who grabbed Cuphead’s handle when he was an inch passed the old tea kettle. Cuphead struggled against Elder Kettle’s hold, throwing punches in mid-air. “Let me go! Let me go! I wanna help!”

“You’ve done enough,” Elder Kettle snarled at Cuphead, who froze in shock at his tone of voice. Elder Kettle softened his gaze and sighed. “I ain’t losing you today too.” He set Cuphead on the bed and hurried out of the bedroom. Before Cuphead could follow him, Elder Kettle closed the door and locked it.

“ELDER KETTLE!!!” Cuphead cried while zooming towards the door. He pounded his fists on it with heavy breaths and tears streaming down his white porcelain cheeks. “LET ME OUT!!! LET ME OUT!!!!” He could hear Elder Kettle walking away from the door.

Outside of the bedroom, Elder Kettle walked down the hallway. He stopped and took a step back, hesitating on leaving Cuphead in that room all by himself. His eyes watered at each step he took downstairs. Cuphead’s cries grew louder and louder, his words muffled by the wooden bedroom door. Elder Kettle gripped the pitchfork and headed out of the door. He shut it and locked it as well.

“HE’S GOING TO KILL YOU!!!!” Cuphead screamed from within his bedroom. He used his shoulder to pound against the door, breathing heavily in panic. “ELDER KETTLE!!!! PLEASE!!! LISTEN TO ME!!!! HE’S GOING TO KILL YOU!!!! LISTEN TO ME!!!! DON’T GO!!!! DON’T GO!!!!” He pounded on the door until his limbs got tired. He collapsed on his knees and sobbed uncontrollably, leaning his head against the door. “D-Don’t leave me here.”

Cuphead leaned his body against the door, finding himself falling asleep on it. 

~.~

The Devil watched with glee at the blue-nosed mug, tossing and turning in the cell bed down in Hell. He seemed to be having a nightmare here. Good. 

“D’aw, boss,” Henchman called from beside the Devil. “You know that this ain’t legal to bring the living down here.”

“Says who?” The Devil replied with a scoff. 

“Says Go—.”

“Don’t speak of His name down here,” The Devil growled at his henchman.

“You just asked,” Henchman pointed out. 

“Well, you know what, I don’t care what He thinks or says,” The Devil snarled with his arms crossed. “This is my realm. He doesn’t get to show up here and tell me what to do.” 

“D’uh, what about Stickler? You know, he’ll get onto ya about bringin’ him here,” Henchman replied. 

“Stickler can just kiss my—”

“Eh, excuse me?!” 

Henchman and The Devil turned to look at Stickler, the teal skinned demon with big round glasses and blue bowtie. Henchman glanced up at the Devil with the deadpan stare. 

“See?” Henchman said. 

“Ugh, what do you want, Stickler?” The Devil scoffed. 

“According to the contract with Go—”

The Devil glared at Stickler. 

“—The Most High. You and Him get to share the surface world. He controls the Heavens and you control what’s down here. You are not supposed to take the living down here,” Stickler informed. 

“I have a right to do so! They took my pitchfork!!!” The Devil barked, pointing at Mugman sleeping in the cell accusingly. 

Stickler glanced over at Mugman and then back at The Devil. “There’s only one person, sir.”

“AAAAAAH!!!” The Devil yelled, his fur set on fire. “I know that!!! The other one had my pitchfork!” 

“Then, why didn’t you get the pitchfork?” Stickler asked.

“BECAUSE IT ELECTROCUTED ME EVERY TIME I TOUCHED IT!!!!” The Devil yelled in frustration.

Stickler went silent for a moment. “You don’t happen to leave it anywhere.”

“Uh, yeah. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have found it,” The Devil grumbled.

“Are you familiar with the Finders Keepers?” Stickler asked. 

The Devil gasped in shock. “No, you don’t mean—.” 

“That pitchfork belongs to that cup now,” Stickler responded. “You need to make a trade for it in order to get it back.”

The Devil perked up and grinned wickedly while looking at Mugman. “Oh, I know what to do about that.” 

Mugman groaned awake in the cell, rubbing his ceramic head to ease his pounding headache. He looked up and saw them. 

Henchman waved at him in a friendly manner, earning a scolding nudge from The Devil. The Devil shifted his ruby eyes back at Mugman with an evil grin. 

“Ah, you’re finally awake,” The Devil replied. “Good. Good. It’s about time. You better get comfortable here, little mug. This…is your new home.” 

Mugman glared at the Devil, getting up from his cell bed. “My brother is coming to get me! And you’ll be sorry!” 

“Ha! Sorry?!” The Devil guffawed and nudged on Henchman’s arm. “You hear that, Henchman? He says I’m going to be sorry. As if Cuphead has any power over me, The King of Hell.” The Devil glanced back at Mugman with a cheeky smirk. “You better rethink your next words carefully, little mug.” 

“It’s Mugman,” Mugman growled, clenching his fists. 

“Ooh, getting tough now, are you?” The Devil taunted. “Alright, let’s see how tough you really are.” With a snap of his fingers, The Devil unlocked the cell door and opened it. 

Mugman’s glare faded into fear once he watched the Devil approaching him. Before Mugman could make a run for it, he was grabbed by the handle and lifted from the bed. He tried to get his feet to touch the ground, but he was yanked up in the air. 

“Hey! Where are you taking me?!” Mugman interrogated. The Devil carried the helpless mug out of the cell with Henchman and Stickler following close behind them. They went past the soul vault and turned to the right. With a stride, they reached the lava pit. Around the huge lava pit, it revealed to be a long ways down with demons worked around the pit whether that would be torturing their screaming victims or breaking every bone in the victims’ bodies. Mugman looked and watched with horror when the Devil held him over the edge. 

Mugman’s body began to shake in fear. “Please! Please! Don’t drop me!!” 

The Devil grinned. “Not so tough now, are you?” 

Mugman whimpered in fear. 

“You know, would’ve been better that way if I so happen to drop you. You won’t have to get in my way to obtain your brother’s soul.” The Devil released his grip on Mugman’s handle.

Mugman felt a drop with a gasp before his handle was grabbed again. He was soon lifted to face The Devil and stared deep into his fiery eyes. 

“But I need you alive just a little while longer, little mug. Who knows? Maybe…just maybe…you can be useful to me,” The Devil said while tossing Mugman aside. 

Mugman tumbled onto the ground and breathed heavily in fear, his limbs shaking from almost being dropped into the lava pit. The green giant imps approached the scene with their spears. 

The Devil turned to them. “Put him back in his cell. Maybe give him a good beating or two.” 

Mugman was lifted back up on his feet and held firmly by the arms. He was escorted away from the Devil, Henchman, and Stickler. 

“This is still unauthorized kidnapping. And now you’re beating him?” Stickler replied. “Torture as many souls as you like, but you’re forgetting that you’re not allowed to bring a mortal down here. Let alone torturing and hurting them. You should leave them to do that themselves.”

The Devil rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on, it’s not going to kill him. Besides, that brother of his will soon see what he put his dear brother through.” 

The Devil walked away, leaving Stickler and Henchman to exchange glances of concern to each other. 

Henchman took a breath. “Let’s go.”

Stickler nodded his head as they followed behind their ruler. 

~.~

Elder Kettle hurried through the woods and searched for something sacred that could help him rescue Mugman before the Devil could torture that poor boy more.

He held the Jawbreaker in his grasp and the pitchfork with his other hand. He soon found the sacred pond. He rushed towards it with heavy breaths and stared at the jawbreaker. Without hesitation, he tossed it in the water. The water fizzed and everything shook around him.

“Come one! Come all! Seek my wisdom and heed my words—!”

“Alright, alright, Quadratus, we get it,” Elder Kettle said with a drone.

Quadratus’s face appeared in the water, staring up at Elder Kettle. “Ah, Kettle. It has been a while since I’ve seen you. How are the boys? They come to me about their issue with the Devil.”

“What?”

“They didn’t tell you?”

“No…”

“Oh…” Quadratus shook his head. “Anyways, what is it that you seek?”

“I need your help, Quadratus,” Elder Kettle uttered, gripping the pitchfork. “The Devil has got my boy, Mugman, and—hey! What do you mean that they came to you about their issue with the Devil?!”

Quadratus sighed. “I’m afraid that I cannot lie to you. I suggested to Mugman to knit the invisible sweater that will keep the Devil at bay from his brother. I’m surprised they haven’t told you.”

“Did they tell you to keep this a secret from me?”

“I don’t think they knew that you and I know each other,” Quadratus answered. “Anyways, The Devil has Mugman now?”

“Yes, he’s got my boy. I need to get him out before something horrible happens to him. How do I get down to Hell?”

“The answer is in your hands.”

Elder Kettle glanced over at the pitchfork with a brow raised.

“It will take centuries to master it though,” Quadratus mentioned with a nervous chuckle.

“Is there another way to get down there?”

“Why yes. You can summon the Hellevator. However, it’s too risky. One, you don’t know how to master the pitchfork. Two, the Hellevator will lead you into the Devil’s throne room. There is a mortal out here that will be able to guide you into a secret passageway.”

Elder Kettle arched a brow. “Who?”

“His name is King Dice,” Quadratus said while the water transformed from his face to the reflection of a corner street of the city near where his radio show took place and the familiar die walking down the street, moping. “He is the gamest in the land. He is the Devil’s right-hand man…or should I say his ‘number-one’? Anyways, he knows the way down to Hell.”

“Wait, The Mr. King Dice?! I listened in on his radio shows every night!” Elder Kettle replied angrily. He gripped the pitchfork tighter. “This whole time, he’s been associated with the Devil?!”

The water shifted back to Quadratus’s face.

“Correct. The winners didn’t really get the grand prize. They just go into the room and have their souls sucked right out of their poor bodies. What a shame really,” Quadratus replied sadly. “He works for the Devil and his soul is tied to him. He is the only mortal who has access to Hell.”

Elder Kettle growled. “Looks like King Dice and I are going to have a nice chat.” The old tea kettle walked away with a pissed-off look on his face, leaving Quadratus by himself.

“Phew, giving out wisdom can be so draining. Time for some vacation,” Quadratus said while flipping his head to the side to put on a straw hat and sunglasses. Then he disappeared in the pond. 

~.~

King Dice failed…again. He could just hear his boss now. The disappointment in his voice. The look of disgust in his face. Oh, what more would Dice give to impress his boss? No matter what, even as his “number-one”, it was never enough. Dice walked by the building where his old gaming show used to be. A perfect gig to collect souls and send them straight to the Devil. The building was condemned and it appeared like no one had been in there for a while. Henchman probably didn’t keep the show alive long enough due to his…clumsiness if Dice had to put it nicely.

King Dice sighed heavily. “My show is over. I can’t go back to the boss. What am I going to do?” Before Dice could think of a proper answer to his question, the fireball crashed right in front of him. He stumbled back with a screech. He hurried down the alleyway in fear and approached the dead end. King Dice whirled around to watch a silhouette behind the gray smoke.

“Whoa! Boss! Don’t kill me! Give me another—” Dice squinted as soon as the figure came out of the smoke. It turned out to be an old pissed-off tea kettle in his military uniform. He held the pitchfork with a glare and a growl. “—chance. Uh, why are you disguised as an old war veteran?”

Elder Kettle cocked the pitchfork like a gun. “Who are you callin’ old, sonny?”

King Dice widened his eyes and stumbled back against the red bricked wall, raising his hands up and his palms facing the tea kettle. “Whoa, hey now, let’s settle down, okay?” A nervous smile cornered on his face. “Why don’t we put down the pitchfork, yeah? We can talk this out like gentleman.”

“Cut the baloney, Dice. You worked for the Devil,” Elder Kettle growled.

“Whaaat?! Psh, who? Me? In cahoots with the Devil? Clearly, you have heard false rumors,” Dice said with a fake grin.

“Oh, really?” Elder Kettle growled, raising the pitchfork up to have the longest tip barely touching Dice’s chest. “Then how come you called me boss when I held this pitchfork?”

Dice lost his fake grin. He knew he had been caught in his own lie. “Shoot.”

“I may be old, but I ain’t senile,” Elder Kettle snarled at Dice. “Now, since you’re the Devil’s advocate, I want you to take me to Hell.”

Dice blinked in confusion. “Wait…what? Why would you want to go down there?”

“Your ‘boss’ took my boy. You’re going to help me get my boy back. One way…or the other,” Elder Kettle threatened Dice, pressing the tip into his chest barely enough to make the gambler whimpered in fear.

“What’s in it for me?” Dice asked with a brow raised. “You know, if you want my help, you oughta—”

Elder Kettle pressed the tip harder against Dice’s chest, getting him to shut up. “Don’t forget who’s the one holding the pitchfork. I would choose your next words carefully if I were you, sonny, and maybe you’ll get out of this alive.”

A lump went down Dice’s throat as the gambler sighed to surrender.

“Fine. But the boss ain’t gonna like it.”

“I don’t care what your boss thinks. Just take me to my boy,” Elder Kettle ordered, stepping aside to let Dice go ahead of him.

King Dice sighed and walked ahead of him, feeling the tip on his back to remind him that the old tea kettle was behind him. 

~.~

Cuphead didn’t know how long he had been passed out from crying for hours. Once he opened his eyes, he realized that he had been lying against the bedroom door. He was too weak to move right now. It took every fiber in his body to stand up and wipe the tears away.

He sighed and looked up to find the window of the bedroom locked by Elder Kettle before he left. If Elder Kettle locked the window from the inside, who was to say that Cuphead couldn’t unlock it? The young cup was about to go towards the window.

“There’s nothing you can take from me that I care about.”

Those words haunted him, causing him to withdraw his hand away from the window. His lips wobbled at the thought of ever saying that as he backed into the bottom bunk bed and sat on it. Those words meant nothing more than just a bark to show Devil how tough he was. The joke was on him the moment Devil took his brother. His brother might have overheard those words. Maybe Elder Kettle was right in locking him up in this room. He already caused enough damage as it was.

Before his mind could go deeper into those dark thoughts, a ghost of the gold chalice appeared behind him with a mischievous grin.

“Boo!” Chalice shouted playfully, hoping to scare Cuphead.

Cuphead didn’t even respond. “Hey, Chalice.”

Chalice lost her grin and floated in front of him, reverting into her physical form. “What’s eatin’ ya? You’re not usually like this.” She looked around the bedroom. “Hey, have you seen Mugman? I want to give him a good scare and—hey, you okay?”

Chalice noticed Cuphead biting his bottom lip to hold in all of his emotions as soon as his brother was mentioned.

“Yeah…everything is fine,” Cuphead replied.

Chalice tilted her head and sat next to him. “Hey, what’s going on with you?”

Cuphead looked away. “It’s nothing.”

Chalice gave him a deadpan stare. “You know, if you are trying to act tough, you are doing a terrible job at it.”

“I ain’t tryin’ to act tough.”

“Well, you’re trying to hold in the tears. It’s not good to hold it all in,” Chalice replied. “You look like you’re going to collapse any moment.”

Cuphead started to whimper. She could tell he was trying too hard to hold it in. Chalice sighed and tapped on Cuphead’s shoulder. When he looked up at her, she noticed how red and puffy his eyes were becoming.

She opened her arms up and cornered a warm smile. “Wanna hug?”

Cuphead hesitated for a moment until he finally gave in and hugged Chalice. She embraced him and rubbed his back. It was then he started to sob. It was only little sobs at first until it became uncontrollable.

“I’m right here. I’m right here,” Chalice said softly while rubbing his back. “Oookay, now you’re gettin’ snot all over my shirt.”

Cuphead and Chalice broke away while Cuphead wiped the tears away.

“Sorry,” Cuphead said in a hoarse tone from the sobs.

“It’s alright. I did say that it ain’t good to hold it all in,” Chalice replied while rubbing his shoulder soothingly. “You mind telling me what’s going on?”

Cuphead wiped the tears away. “Mugsy…Mugsy got taken.”

“By golly! By who?” Chalice probed with a shocked gasp.

“The Devil,” Cuphead said while wiping away the tears.

“Oh golly, Cuphead…I didn’t know…Does Elder Kettle know about this?”

“Yeah, that’s why he locked me in here and went after Mugman…He’s going down into the Underworld.”

“Oh no, he’s going to get himself killed,” Chalice responded with fear in her tone.

“That’s what I was trying to tell him! But he ain’t listening to me!” Cuphead cried, hugging his legs. “It’s my fault! All of this is my fault! If it weren’t for the fact that I used to owe the Devil my soul, Mugman wouldn’t have to constantly worry about me. If it weren’t for me gettin’ the idea of messing around with that stupid pitchfork, Mugsy wouldn’t get kidnapped and Elder Kettle wouldn’t have gone down to the Underworld! All of this is my fault! And-And to think that I said that there ain’t nothing Devil can take from me that I care about! I was so wrong…all wrong! Mugman was all I care about in this world! Maybe I shouldn’t go down there after him. Maybe I’ve hurt him enough or I’ll make it worse…all I do is make everything worse.”

“Okay, Cuphead, listen to me,” Chalice replied with her hands on her hips, getting Cuphead’s attention. “First off, you and Mugman should never deal with the Devil in the first place. But that’s too late to rethink that decision. Second off, you’re his brother. He needs you and you need him. You both need each other. And at this moment, Mugman needs you more than anything. If you don’t go down there to rescue him, wouldn’t that reinforce those words that you didn’t mean by? I know that you cared about your brother. Mugman does too…but, Devil is a master liar and manipulator. He will lie to Mugman to say that you never cared about him when you said those words. He’ll use your words to hurt Mugman. If you don’t go down there to rescue Mugman, you’re showing Mugman that Devil is right about your lack of love for your brother. Do you want the Devil to be right about your relationship with your brother?”

Cuphead shook his head slowly.

“Then we oughta go down there and not only rescue your brother, but to help Elder Kettle as well. What d’ya say?” Chalice replied with a determined smile.

Cuphead sat there for a moment to ponder about what Chalice was saying. She was right. If he knew the Devil any better, he might use the words Cuphead said as manipulation against his brother. He had to get down there. He had to get his brother out of there. He didn’t have the pitchfork to trade Devil with…but there was something he was planning on doing instead.

He stood up from the bottom bunk bed and walked over to the window. With newfound determination in his eyes, Cuphead unlocked the window and opened it. He slid out of it and dropped to the ground. Chalice reverted back to her ghost form and phased through the wall. Cuphead hopped over the front fence and hurried to the bikes. He picked them up and looked back at Chalice.

Chalice tilted her head in confusion of the two bikes joined together. “What’s going on there?”

“It’s something Mugsy made for the both of us,” Cuphead said. “Hop on.”

“Oh, uh, okay,” Chalice replied while turning back to her physical form. She got on the bike behind Cuphead.

Cuphead stared ahead into the woods. “Hang on, bud, we’ll come get ya.” With that said, Cuphead made his way through the woods and towards the spot where Mugman was taken. 

~.~

Mugman groaned in pain. He could barely move his limbs. If it weren’t for the bruises on his ceramic face and body, he would’ve been able to move around his cell. His vision was a blur for a moment until it was clear. He…was in the Devil’s throne room? The cage felt small around him. That was why he could barely move. He looked up to see the Devil waiting patiently on his throne, his tail flicked side to side. Out of the corner of Devil’s ruby eyes, he noticed Mugman moving around in the small cage next to his red throne chair.

“Ah, you’re awake. I hope my imps didn’t hurt you badly,” The Devil said with a mischievous grin. “You know, I was just thinking of what your brother said back there. There wasn’t anything I could take he cared about. And it makes me curious…has he ever cared about your wants or needs?”

Mugman furrowed his brows at the Devil. “What kind of a question is that?! Of course he cared about me.”

“Cared enough to not owe me his soul all because he wanted to play Soul Ball?” the Devil responded. “You did all the saving if I recalled correctly. And that annoyed me.”

“I-It was an honest mistake…we didn’t know it was your carnival,” Mugman replied. “Besides, I messed up his aim—”

“Yes, but he owes me his soul until his soul contract was expired,” The Devil responded. “Do you think he cared enough about you to, oh, I don’t know, get another brother to replace you because he thinks you’re boring?”

“H-How did you—?”

“Do you think he cared enough about you that he always fights with you? Constantly…If I recalled correctly, that’s not brotherly love if you both were fighting constantly.”

“STOP!”

“Do you think he cared enough about you to steal your dreams to be a pianist all because of the money involved in it?”

Mugman grabbed his ceramic head and closed his eyes. “Stop it!”

“Do you think he cared enough about you that he would’ve left you behind in Sugarland if you hadn’t begged for him to come back? Do you think he cared enough about you that he would blow up wood for the winter when you and dear old Elder Kettle were trying to survive? Do you really think he cared enough about you to say those words that there was nothing he cared about that I could take from him?”

Mugman started to sob, shaking his head.

“Really think about it, little mug. He doesn’t care about you. He cares about himself. If I recall correctly, you did all the sacrificing when it came to your brother. You risked your own soul to save his. You are the one who knit the invisible sweater for him. You are the one who kept him from being taken by me. You are the one who helped him when he needed most. Is it selfish to dream things you want to dream? Is it selfish to think about yourself for a minute? All you do was help your brother. But guess what? Cuphead failed to prevent me from taking you. He failed to protect you. Wanna know why? Because he’s so used to you protecting him that when I took you away…he just froze.”

Mugman sobbed, breathing heavily.

“He doesn’t care about you, little mug. He left you behind to your own demise,” The Devil said. When he saw Mugman crying, he smirked for a moment before his face contorted to pretend to be sad. “I’m so sorry you had to find out this way, little mug. It is so unfair of what your brother did to you, huh?”

“HEY, DEVIL!!!!” Cuphead’s voice echoed into the throne room.

Mugman looked up and gasped when he saw his brother storming towards the throne with Chalice.

“Let my brudda go!” Cuphead demanded with angry tears in his eyes.

“Cuphead! Chalice!” Mugman called happily.

The Devil smirked at Cuphead. “Ah, I was just talking about you, Cuphead. Looks like you have proven me wrong this time. It’s too bad that you didn’t prove me wrong countless of other times.”

The cage opened with the snap of Devil’s finger and, with his telepathic powers, he raised Mugman up to show the torn black shirt and bruises on his ceramic body.

Cuphead gasped in horror at the sight of his brother being hurt everywhere. He drew his brows together in pure rage and leaped to attack the Devil before being reprimanded by the imps that came out of nowhere. Chalice reverted into her ghost form and dashed towards the Devil to attack him before the ghost chains wrapped around her wrists. She was pulled down on the ground with a gasp.

“What the—?!”

“You don’t think I noticed you, Ms. Chalice?” The Devil said with a conniving grin. “You better watch your step around here. You’re in my realm now.”

Cuphead struggled and looked to see Chalice chained up and Mugman held hostage by the Devil’s telepathic powers. The cup took a moment to calm down before looking up at the demon.

“So, Cuphead, where’s my pitchfork?” The Devil asked with a toothy smirk.

“I-I lost it,” Cuphead said sadly.

“Lost it. Oh, how irresponsible,” Devil replied with scoff.

“But I got something else to trade.”

The Devil perked his head up and smiled sadistically. “Do tell.”

Chalice gasped in fear. “Cuphead, what are you doing?!”

Cuphead took a deep breath and straightened up. “You can have my soul. In exchange, you release my brother and Chalice.”

“Don’t you dare, Cuphead!!!” Mugman shouted tearfully, struggling against the Devil’s telepathic hold.

The Devil smirked evilly. “Oh, this is turning out better than I thought. Alright, Cuphead, you got yourself a deal. I release your brother and Chalice in exchange for your soul.” The Devil put his hand out.

“CUPHEAD!!! DON’T DO THIS!!! PLEASE!!!” Mugman cried while trying to move, but he couldn’t.

“CUPHEAD!!! THIS ISN’T WHAT WE TALKED ABOUT!!” Chalice barked at Cuphead.

Cuphead took a deep breath again and reached his hand towards the Devil. Before Cuphead and Devil could shake hands on it, a fire ball flew between them. Cuphead winced back with a yelp while the Devil growled angrily.

“Release the kids—!”

The Devil and Cuphead looked to the side of the throne room to find King Dice being held hostage by Elder Kettle. King Dice had a sword against his neck while Elder Kettle had the pitchfork strapped to his back.

“—Or I’ll kill your right-hand man!” Elder Kettle threatened with rage in his eyes.

“Just do what he says, boss! The old tea kettle is unhinged!” King Dice shouted cowardly.

The Devil rolled his eyes. “Oh great. Look what you just—wait, my pitchfork!”

Elder Kettle gritted his teeth. “You want it? Then you release my kids.”

The Devil tapped his finger on the armrest of the throne chair. “It’s funny how Cuphead made a deal to sell his soul to me in exchange for his brother’s freedom. Now here you are…threatening to kill my good-for-nothing lackey, to which you should know I have no problem with, and making a deal of taking back my pitchfork in exchange of me releasing your ‘kids’…if they are really your kids that is. Now I’m debating which deal sounds more…enticing.” With that said, the Devil shifted his gaze at Cuphead.

Elder Kettle shifted his attention to Cuphead. “Cuphead, you should know better than sell your own soul to the Devil.” He glared at the Devil. “Have you ever heard of Lost and Found contract? This pitchfork is mine for now…unless you want to trade. If that’s the case, release my kids and I’ll give you back your pitchfork.”

“Ugh, fine, make it snappy,” The Devil groaned irritably.

However, Elder Kettle shook his head. “I ain’t givin’ you the pitchfork unless you release my kids first. That way I know you ain’t a liar and manipulator like you’ve always been.”

“Ugh, ouch!” The Devil said sarcastically. “Well, if you want to play it that way—” With his telepathic powers, he threw Mugman through the walls.

“MUGMAN!!!” Elder Kettle, Cuphead, and Chalice called for him.

Elder Kettle pushed the tip of the sword against Dice’s throat. “Release him or I’ll kill your number one!!”

The Devil smirked. “Go ahead. No one was stopping you.”

The color drained from Dice’s face, his life on the line. Elder Kettle glared into Dice’s eyes, ready to kill him until he could see fear in the gambler’s eyes. The old tea kettle softened his gaze and pulled his sword away from Dice’s throat. He shoved the gambler on his knees. Elder Kettle took the pitchfork off of his back with a sigh.

“That’s what I thought,” Devil said with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Now, why don’t you hand over the pitchfork, hm? Just as promised.”

“Eh, excuse me?!”

Devil glanced down to see Stickler standing by his throne chair. He scoffed. “Ugh, Stickler, what do you want?”

“As much I hate to interrupt your fun, you are losing souls,” Stickler replied.

“WHAT?!”

Henchman bursted through the throne room, panting. “Boss! The Cat Burglar! He’s back!”

“WHAT?!?!?!?!?!?! AGAIN?!?!?!?!” The Devil growled aggressively. “FIND HIM AND BRING HIM TO ME!!!!”

“Yes, boss!” Henchman said while motioning a couple of imps with him. 

~.~

Mugman screamed until he finally crashed into his own cell. He groaned in pain and sat up to see the bars shut and locked. Mugman breathed heavily. Both his caretaker and his brother were willing to give up their souls for him.

Mugman had to get out of this cell and fast before he could lose both of the people he loved. The imps guard his cell to make sure he wouldn’t escape. He looked around the cell to try to find a way out of it without the imps noticing. However, he heard creaking. The imps turned their heads down the hallway. They took out their weapons, ready to fight anyone who dared come through the hallway.

Mugman heard creaking around the ceiling and looked up to see a pair of eyes looking down at the imps from the open ceiling. Should he make a sound or should he stay quiet? Mugman bit his lips and watched the mysterious shadow jumped onto one of the bigger imps. The imp screamed while the other one smacked him with a huge club. The mysterious hooded creature jumped onto the other imp, who hit himself with a club trying to get to the creature. The hooded creature jumped off and looked into Mugman’s cell.

Mugman waved his hand shyly, not sure who this creature was.

The creature unlocked the cell with claws and came towards him. The creature appeared to be a girl, her claws reaching to lock pick the chains around Mugman’s ankles.

Mugman was no longer fearful of this hooded creature as he reached for the brown hood to see who she was. However, before his fingers could touch the fabric, she snatched his wrist to stop him. She looked up at him, staring into his eyes. He could see red fur under the hood. Her mouth and her nose were covered by a bandana.

“Who are you?” he whispered, not sure why the question slipped out of his mouth. She released her grip on his wrist and continued to work with the chains. The chains released his ankles and she held a paw out for him to take. Mugman looked at her hand and then into her eyes. There was a bright smile hidden behind her bandana that he could see by the movement of the fabric. He exchanged a smile back and took her hand. She pulled him up on his feet before hearing heavy footsteps.

“There you are!” one of the larger imps barked and swung his club to hit both Mugman and her.

She pushed him out of the way and jumped back. The club hit the ground between the two of them. She ran out of the cell, but was grabbed by the other imp and slammed her against the wall.

“Where do you think you’re going?!” The other imp barked at her.

Mugman gasped to see her in trouble while hurrying out of the cell and hopped onto the imp’s back to get him off of her. The imp knocked Mugman back against the bars on the other side of the hall before watching the other imp stomping out of his original cell.

The creature clawed the imp’s hand and bit down on it with her sharp teeth. The imp cried in pain while letting go of her. She pounced on him and scratched up his face with a cat’s yowl. The other imp slapped her off of his partner. She tumbled onto the ground next to Mugman, who stared up in fear. The imp pulled out their club to make the killing blow.

“Finally, the boss doesn’t have to deal with you anymore,” the imp growled while raising his club high.

Mugman gasped and grabbed her by the shawl and pulled her out of harm’s way. The imp’s club pounded onto the ground again.

“Are you okay?” he asked her while helping her up on her feet.

“They’re a bit bigger than I remembered,” she finally answered.

Mugman gasped to find that she spoke. He looked up to find the imps coming towards them.

“Get the mug and kill the Cat Burglar,” the imp ordered.

“Cat Burglar?” Mugman questioned before noticing her throwing the ball of yarn at the imps. The imps looked down at the yarn with a confused expression on their faces and then laughed.

“Is that the best you can do—?!”

The ball of yarn exploded, the yarn strings tying up the imps. The imps couldn’t move a muscle until they tried to cut their way through the thick yarn strings.

The Cat Burglar took Mugman by the hand and hurried out of the hallway. Mugman gripped in her hand in fear that he wouldn’t be able to catch up with her. They hurried towards the lava pit as she got out a bow and attached the string to the arrow. She pulled the bowstring back and released the arrow, having it stick onto the ceiling.

“Hang on!” she warned before gripping her bow.

Mugman wrapped his arms around her sides once she jumped off of the ledge. They swung over the lava pit with Mugman screaming in terror. The arrow slipped from the ceiling once they landed on the other side of the lava pit. She hurried away from the cliff, but Mugman almost fell back into the lava pit. Before he could lose his footing on the edge, he felt his shirt being grabbed. He looked up to find the Cat Burglar pulling him away from the edge.

“Come on!” she urged him as she hurried into the dark caverns.

Mugman followed her. “Hey, wait!” He squeezed himself through the sharp rocks. The smell of brimstone infiltrated his nose. “Thank you for saving me back there.”

“Same to you,” she said.

“Oh…I, uh, didn’t do much.”

“I could’ve been crushed by the club if you weren’t there, so I thank you too for saving me back there.”

Mugman blushed for a moment. “Uh…it’s no problem. Wait, who are you?”

“It’s better if I tell you after we’re done here. You’ll never know who will hear us in here,” The Cat Burglar replied. “Let’s get out of here—”

“Wait, my family is at the Devil’s throne…The Devil will have both my brother’s and my caretaker’s if we don’t get them out of the throne room,” Mugman begged while reaching for her paw.

She stopped and turned to him. She gave a thought and nodded her head. “Then let’s get them out of here too.”

Mugman brightly smiled at her.

“Follow me,” she whispered while they made their way to the throne room. 

~.~

Henchman bursted into the Devil’s throne room.

“Boss! The Cat Burglar—He got the mug too!” Henchman announced while panting for breaths.

Cuphead, Chalice, and Elder Kettle sighed in relief that Mugman was somewhere safe.

Devil growled angrily. “Find the Cat Burglar and that mug! Bring them to me at once!”

“Yes, boss!” Henchman ran off to try and find them.

Stickler raised his finger. “And more souls were being free as we speak.”

“Ugh! Isn’t there a better day when that Cat Burglar could just come in and take them? I’m in the middle of obtaining souls!!!”

Cuphead noticed something above the throne room and looked up to see Mugman and a mysterious hooded creature sneaking through the ceiling. He smiled brightly to see his brother. Chalice and Elder Kettle joined in looking up and saw Mugman on the ceiling.

They both sighed in quiet relief while snapping their attention back at Devil.

King Dice was too stunned to speak after being called “good-for-nothing lackey” and almost killed by the old tea kettle.

The Devil shifted his stare back at Elder Kettle. “Now, about that deal, make it snappy. We don’t—”

Before Elder Kettle could give the pitchfork back, an arrow was shot between the Devil’s feet. It exploded, blinding The Devil, Stickler, King Dice, and the imps holding Cuphead hostage. Elder Kettle looked away before he could be blinded by it. Cuphead closed his eyes while feeling their grips loosened on him. He shrugged out of it and helped Chalice with the ghostly chains. However, the ghost chains disappeared as soon as the brightness started. Chalice smiled brightly and reverted back to her physical form.

Elder Kettle threw the pitchfork at the Devil’s feet and hurried towards the kids. He took their hands and rushed over to the secret exit that Dice showed him.

“Wait, Elder Kettle!” Cuphead said while hurrying over and grabbing the bikes.

“You had the bikes there the entire time?!” Elder Kettle pointed out.

“Just in case!” Cuphead said while looking around for his brother. “We gotta find Mugsy!”

He felt someone grabbing his arm as he looked to see Mugman.

“Mugsy!” Cuphead cried and hugged his brother. “I’m so sorry! I’m so so sorry!”

“Come on, Cuphead! Let’s get out of here!” Mugman determined while hopping onto the bikes with Cuphead. Cuphead nodded his head and rode their bikes towards the secret exit with Elder Kettle leading them. However, they noticed that the Cat Burglar was also running with them.

“Come on!” she urged the others as she ran ahead of them.

Elder Kettle was slowing down, panting for breath.

Chalice noticed this and looked behind her to find Devil recovered from the flash bomb with a glare at them. She clenched her teeth and turned into the ghost, possessing Elder Kettle. Chalice, as Elder Kettle, sprinted to catch up with the boys and the Cat Burglar.

The Cat Burglar took out her walkie-talkie. “Jerry! I need you to pick us up by the secret entrance! Hurry!”

“Jerry?!” Cuphead and Mugman shouted in question.

A sudden fireball was thrown at them and missed, scaring them. They looked back to see Devil running after them. The Cat Burglar shot an arrow onto the ceiling and they ran under it. After they were passed it, she pressed the button to detonate the bomb. The rocks started to collapse as they saw the woods in the late evening. They made it out of Hell.

Cuphead and Mugman saw a pair of headlights coming at them. Both of the brothers screamed and stopped their bikes. The car swerved to the side and they looked up to find a familiar face of black figure with red crooked nose. His face was hidden under the green large hat and his mouth was hidden by a green scarf. His body was also hidden by a green trench coat.

“Get in!” The strange figure shouted.

The Cat Burglar jumped in the vehicle. She looked at the rest of the group. “Get in! Hurry!”

Cuphead and Mugman got off of their bikes and threw them at the back of the car while hopping onto the backseat along with Elder Kettle.

The Cat Burglar looked around. “Wait, where’s the chalice girl?”

Elder Kettle’s mouth opened and Chalice popped out from her ghost form.

“Right here. NOW STEP ON IT!!!” Chalice shouted urgently.

The stranger pressed on the gas pedal and the car sped off.

Meanwhile, back in Hell, Devil saw that the secret exit was blocked off with an offended scoff.

“You don’t get to run away!” The Devil growled while Henchman, Stickler, and King Dice came up next to him.

“Geez, boss, the Cat Burglar took a lot more than we thought,” Henchman replied.

“Twenty thousands souls to be precise,” Stickler remarked.

The Devil growled angrily and stormed off back to his throne room. Henchman and Stickler exchanged glances and shrugged at each other before following their king. King Dice, however, stayed behind. Tonight was the night that he couldn’t process. First, Devil was okay with Elder Kettle killing him, but he didn’t kill Dice. Why? It didn’t take words to coax the old war veteran to not kill him. It didn’t take him groveling and begging to be spared. King Dice clutched his chest to feel his own beating heart.

“D’aw! Dice! Are ya comin’ or what?!” Henchman shouted from a distance.

Dice looked at the direction of the voice and then back at the blocked off exit. With a deep sigh, he walked away.

~.~

The car drove through the woods, letting the others process what happened. Chalice already phased out of Elder Kettle’s body and returned to her physical form, sitting next to Mugman.

“Thanks, Jerry,” the Cat Burglar said with a sigh in relief.

“Are you hurt anywhere?” Jerry asked, trying to examine her while driving.

She took off her hood and bandana to reveal a cat with red fur and short black hair. “Yeah, I’m fine.” She looked back at Cuphead, Mugman, Chalice, and Elder Kettle. “How are you guys doing? You guys doing okay?”

Mugman stared at her, not expecting to see beauty under the hood.

“Yep, we’re okay,” Elder Kettle answered for him and the kids. “I didn’t catch your names…”

“Oh, my name is Cassidy. I couldn’t reveal it earlier because…well, you never know who could hear,” Cassidy, the red feline cat, introduced herself. “And this is Jerry.”

Jerry nodded his head and kept driving forward.

“It’s very nice to meet you both,” Elder Kettle replied. He looked at the boys and noticed Mugman staring at her in some sort of fascination. “You know it’s rude to stare, Mugman.”

Mugman blinked and shook his head, snapping out of his trance. “Hm?”

“You heard me,” Elder Kettle replied.

Mugman blushed and looked down on the floor shyly.

“I’m Cuphead!” Cuphead introduced himself. “And this is Mugman!”

Mugman looked up at his brother and then at Cassidy with a small smile and wave.

“And I’m Chalice,” Chalice introduced herself.

“It’s nice to meet you guys too,” Cassidy said while shifting her gaze at Mugman. “Hey, I want to thank you again for helping me out back there.”

“Oh—uh, it’s nothing—.”

“No, it’s something. If it weren’t for you, I would’ve been smashed with the club,” Cassidy said with a smile.

“Wait, you were almost smashed with the club?!” Jerry questioned, panicking.

“Yeah, but he saved me,” Cassidy replied.

“No, no, it’s really nothing,” Mugman responded with a blush spreading across his face.

Jerry arrived at Elder Kettle’s house. “Is this your house?”

“Yes, you can drop us off here,” Elder Kettle said once Jerry parked near the fence. The old tea kettle scooted out of the car with Chalice and the cup brothers following him. However, Mugman turned around to look up at Cassidy for one last time for the night.

“Uh…when can we see you again?” Mugman questioned.

Cassidy seemed shock by his question. However, she hid her shock with a small smile and a blush. “Soon, hopefully.”

Jerry noticed something between them with a smirk hidden under the scarf as he drove off into the woods with Cassidy in the passenger seat.

Mugman waved goodbye with a wistful sigh.

“Hey, Mugsy! Are ya comin’ or what?!” Cuphead shouted behind him.

“Coming!” Mugman yelled back and headed through the gate. He was definitely not going to be able to sleep tonight with his thoughts on her.

To Be Continued... 

[pigeonwhumps]

Crucifixion part 2

Immortal Cannon Fodder masterlist

Taglist: @extrabitterbrain @wolfeyedwitch

Phoenix is rescued by someone unexpected.

1.3k

CWs: impaling, blood loss, discussion of immortality and death, past emeto, crucifixion, tourniquets, discussion of possible long-term injury

“Any sign?”

“Nothing yet, boss,” comes a crackle in his ear.

“Alright, keep looking.” Ifa resumes scanning the city with his binoculars. Firebird has to be somewhere, they can’t have just vanished. There's no chatter on the internal Hero League network, or among the villains, but there has to be some trace of them.

“So,” says Alex, his sidekick, sitting down beside him, “Firebird. Why are you so concerned? They could just be on holiday. Heroes are allowed days off.”

“I checked the League’s records. They’re not on holiday.” He doesn’t add that they don’t seem to have taken any time off, ever, in the two years since they started there. Not even injury leave after their fights. That just fits what he’s suspected for a while now. “And I’m concerned because they’re my nemesis. If they’re not fit to fight I need to know.”

“Bullshit. You’re protective. More protective than I’ve ever known you to be with a hero. What is it about them?”

Just then, Ifa’s headset crackles into life. “I’ve found them.” The henchman sounds ill. “Abandoned warehouse, I’m sending you the co-ordinates. Bring a first aid kit, and make sure Bayou’s with you.”

“Roger that.” He stands, and he and Alex start to run through their headquarters. They stop at the medbay for supplies. “You asked me why I’m protective, Alex? Next time you get a chance, look at their arms. Compare them to the scars on yourself. That’s why I’m protective.”

_

Ifa stops dead in the middle of the warehouse, staring at the sight of the crucified hero in front of him, dressed in a vomit-stained t-shirt and underwear, blood dripping into pools on the concrete. Beside him, Alex gags.

“Dear God...”

“There’s no God here,” snaps Ifa, or tries to – his voice is softer than intended, and he clears his throat. “Get them down.”

A group of henchmen rush forward, lowering the cross to the ground. Firebird whimpers.

“Easy, Firebird,” mutters Shea, Ifa’s medic. Xie examines their wrists and curses. “One will come out cleanly, the other not so much. It’s half-buried, I’ll have to dig it out.”

“And their feet?”

Shea moves to them. “Clean. Just the right wrist that’s going to be a problem. I’m going to apply tourniquets and then pull each nail straight out. We don’t have any pain relief they’re able to take, so I’ll need some of you to hold them down. And a scalpel.”

As xie starts tying tourniquets on all four limbs there’s another whimper.

“No... please, no more...”

“I need to remove the nails,” Shea murmurs, “it’s going to hurt but I’m removing them, I promise.”

Firebird whines, seemingly unaware of what’s happening, and Alex strides forward, placing her hands firmly on the top of their left arm.

“Do it.”

Shea yanks the nail out of their left wrist and Firebird lets out a deafening scream, thrashing in Alex’s hold. Two more henchmen rush forward to hold their other arm and legs – Firebird is clearly desperate, they're bucking away, tearing the nails in deeper. Shea ties a tight bandage over the hole before moving onto the feet. Once they’re complete xie turns to Alex and Ifa.

“I’m going to dig out the remaining nail. Electrocus, I assume you have a scalpel.” Ifa doesn’t even bother with a token protest that he’s safer than that, just takes one out of his pocket and hands it over. “Alex, hold their arm down. This is going to be very painful and I don’t want their thrashing making it worse.” Alex does so and Shea digs the scalpel into their wrist around where the visible part of the nailhead sits.

Firebird howls.

Acting on some instinct he didn’t know existed, Ifa strides forward and crouches down behind Firebird’s head, stroking their flaming red and purple hair. “Easy, Firebird. I know it hurts, but it won’t be long now.”

Firebird doesn't seem to hear him, but they calm slightly, still breathing heavily and whimpering but their howling has lessened. With a last yank that makes the hero arch upwards in pain, Shea pulls the nail free of their wrist, flinging it disgustedly across the warehouse. It hits the wall with a clang.

Xie ties a bandage tightly around their wrist and stands, packing away the first aid kit. "Right. We're ready to move. One of you bring them, carefully."

Ifa steps back, letting Alex lift Firebird into her arms. "I want some of you to document this... scene, and find any evidence you can of who did this. And then get rid of the place. Do what you like, I don't care, just make sure it's cleaned up. I don't want anyone able to use this place again. Is that clear?"

Bill, who loves explosives, grins. "Yes, boss."

Ifa sighs. At least this place will be guaranteed to have been wiped off the map.

"Once you're finished, go home. Get some rest. I want at least one of you on call at all times in case we need anything, but the rest of you can relax. If you want to find out who did it I won't stop you," he adds, and one of the henchman's eyes glitter with the promise of revenge. He's the one who noticed Firebird's scars in the first place when they were locked in Ifa's cells, and he also became vaguely fond of the young hero. Though this may not just be revenge for Firebird that the henchman is thinking of. "But do not take any sort of action against them without informing me first."

"Yes, boss."

"Good. Now go. And remember there's information on trustworthy therapists in your employee handbooks. I'll let you know when you're needed back at work."

Ifa strides after Alex as she and Shea leave the warehouse, climbing into Shea's van outside. It's kitted out as a basic transport ambulance (at Shea's insistence) and Shea straps Firebird to the bed. The young hero's unconscious now, thankfully.

"We'll take them to the caravan," says Ifa decisively to Alex, who nods and starts driving at breakneck speed. "Shea, do you have everything you need there?"

"Yes, I did a restock and stock check last month." Xer head is bowed and xie speaks quietly as xie examines Firebird's right arm.

"What's wrong?"

"They were up there long enough for the skin to grow over the nail in their right wrist nearly completely. And there were scars on their other wrist where the nail had moved, I saw them. Scars. They haven't been missing long enough to heal like that naturally, even accounting for their healing factor, and we know dying speeds up their healing process. They must've died more than once on that cross. How... how did no-one raise the alarm? We would've heard if they had. There's a serial killer on the loose! Where did their teammates think they were? I don't... how can everyone care so little?"

Ifa sighs. "I don't know. But I get the feeling Firebird doesn't have many friends." He strokes their hair gently for something to do. "Do you think they'll get the movement back in their hands?"

"I don't know enough about them to say. There'll be a lot of scar tissue, but if their healing factor's strong enough to regrow the nerve it's possible. Their fine motor control won't be the same again though. I'm tempted to let them die and come back, that might be better for their healing, but..." Xie shakes xer head.

"That's Firebird's decision to make," says Ifa, firmly. Shea nods. Ifa hopes that Firebird doesn't want to die again, when they wake, because he's not sure he could bear to actually kill them, but as he said. It's their decision.

He claps his hands together, and Shea jumps.

"So. What do you need me to do when we get to the caravan?"

[cattyanon]

First chapter of the fic about the Starline's Henchman AU is here!

[calmlythrilling]

Ö

Huxley's also my favorite Sesame Street character. His villain song is also one of my favorite songs, and it tells you most of what you need to know about him.

[confused-wanderer]

It would be hilarious if villains loved Nightwing and were terrified of Officer Dick Grayson.

Dick Grayson- who is used to open spaces and adrenaline- being stuck in a boring bleak office, surviving on shots of coffee and red bull with caffeine that would make Tim concerned.

The thugs soon realised that unlike most of the other cops - Dick was from Gotham.

No one fucks with Gothamites.

Villain *shooting at Dick with machine guns*

Dick *appearing from the shadows behind him*: Boo.

Villain: THIS IS A FIVE STOREY BUILDING HOW THE HELL DID YOU GET HERE

Or

Thief *throwing a counting down bomb at Dick*

Dick: *catching and tossing the bomb at a safe distance before turning round and shooting it so it explodes mid air while running after thief*

Thief: .. what the actual fuck

Dick: Gee look at all that time you had! Shame you threw it away :D

Thief:

Dick: I’m from Gotham

Thief *realising they fucked up* : Please don’t steal my bones

OR

Shooter: *sets elaborate booby traps throughout the houses in an active hostage situation*

Dick *using his training as robin and inhuman flexibility to surpass them with ease*: Ah been a while since I got to have a nice stretch thank you.

Shooter:

Dick:

Shooter:

Dick: .. Hi :)

Shooter: Are you Satan?

AND

In interrogation room

Murderer: I think I’ll take your eyes and add them to my collection

Dick *running on spite and caffeine that could give Superman a sugar rush* : Funny.. I was going to say the same thing to you

Murderer: .. what

Dick: I wouldn’t take your eyes though.. they look like the inspiration behind the whole Medusa’s “look at it and you turn to stone” thing-

Murderer: Hey! Take that back before I gut you

Dick *smile stretching wider without blinking* : oh? Or what? I know everything about you. Who says I can’t kill you and walk out with everyone being none the wiser? I know how to kill someone too..you aren’t special.

Murderer:

Murderer: I’m scared for my safety.

Because the thing is, Nightwing is who Dick really is. It’s who he can be free as, be himself as without red tapes and regulations. Where he can give as good as he gets, and he’s kind and empathetic. He gets to help the downtrodden and goes easy on most of them if they give up right away, not to mention the fact that he never causes permanent damage.

But officer Dick Grayson is a different story. He runs on sleepless nights and no self preservation. Seeing an officer with an uncanny skill set they’re scarily good at, not to mention the cheery attitude he always has scares the shit out of criminals. Cuz no way in hell is a smiling Gothamite not a deranged one. He chases crimes like a bloodhound, and isn’t afraid to make good on threats he makes to ensure they never hurt anyone again.

Bonus if the batfam doesn’t know about this.

Red hood: Shit I can’t believe we ended up in Bludhaven

Red Robin *tying up the corrupt politican* : Since this is a sensitive case, we need someone we can trust to make sure it is seen through.

Red hood: .. So we paying a visit to Officer Grayson?

Politician *screeching* : NO NO NO NO! PLEASE NOT HIM!! JUST KILL ME INSTEAD AND TAKE ALL MY MONEY I CANT DEAL WITH HIM!

Red hood: .. is he fucking serious?

Henchmen: Sir he is. And we agree. Please take our bones and kill us but don’t take us to Officer Grayson.

Red Robin: Wait what did he do?

Henchman 1: He asked boss if the hat was sentient.. and said that if it was would it make that hat the top and boss the bottom.

Henchman 2: Last time we met I tried to shoot him but suddenly my gun was blank and he raised his hand and let the ammo drop

Red Hood: Well even I could do that-

Henchman 2: They were my bullets. I had selected the colour personally.

Red robin *growing concerned*

Henchman 3: He sang a lullaby to a child when we were holding the station hostage, and replaced the people with my family members. He even sang their social security numbers!

Henchman 4: He’s the most dangerous of them all. I ain’t shitting ya when I say he’s as scary as the bat from Gotham.

*all nodding in agreement*

Red hood:

Red Robin:

Red hood: Nah that doesn’t sound like Dick

Red Robin: Agreed. Let’s go there Hood.

*villains’ sobbing intensifies*

[dragonfly0808]

So my Batfamily brain rot is back (not that it ever really left) and I just had a thought like…

If you’re a henchman/criminal in Gotham, seeing your life flash past your eyes is gonna be a somewhat regular occurance but… what if like… the thing that truly made a henchman’s heart fall to his ass was when they hit Robin just a little too hard and this 10 year old kid just starts crying and goes ‘Daaaaaadddd!’

That’s the moment when they truly think they’re going to die because said dad, the kid is calling for is a 6’6 demon from hell who’s all muscle and shadows and vengance and a lot of Gotham still thinks he’s a cryptid

The henchmen all drop their guns and try to calm the kid down but it’s over in 5 seconds flat. Batman breaks several bones before speaking to Robin in the softest voice they’ve ever heard him use and the criminal world, who was already a bit hesitant to fight a kid have even more reason to take it just a little easy on Robin.

And like, I can picture different reactions with every Robin.

Like, for Dick, he’s ten and we all know he was the most violent Robin second only to Damian so maybe when he’s ten or eleven and has calmed down a little, a henchback who still remembers what a little shit he used to be decides to get back at Robin, slips on a pair of brass knuckles and BAM

And then, little Dick just stares for a moment in shock, cheek already starting to bruise, the criminals he’d been fighting all stay still because it was a nasty punch and then…

“Daaaaad!!!” He cries out in a whiny voice that reminds them that Robin really is just a kid and it all clicks into place.

Even Bruce wasn’t expecting that, Dick has just started calling him dad and he still isn’t used to being called that so to hear his kid calling for him in the moment where he is startled and hurt and a little scared… the henchmen don’t even have time to react and they wake up in the hospital with concussions and maybe a few broken bones.

It doesn’t take Dick long to calm down, it was mostly that the hit from a random henchmen really startled him and got him right in the cheekbone. But Bruce still finishes patrol early and Dick still hides under Bruce’s cape all the way to the Batmobile.

Then comes Jason and Jason was such a sweet kid, I headcannon he was the one that called Bruce dad the most often while being Robin. So one night during patrol maybe he finds himself fighting Penguin or Two-Face and it’s been a long night and he has an exam the following day and Bruce is fighting another villain at the other side of the warehouse

The point is, the henchmen and Two-Face start landing hits on eleven year old Jason in his gut and at some point he loses sight of Batman fighting on the other side of the room. Jason gets scared because he’s never really fought without Batman and while he knows that Bruce is still in the warehouse, he can’t see him and the handle of a gun hits the back of his ankle and he falls and he sees Two-Face or Penguin or one of the henchmen getting ready to grab the front of his uniform and beat him up and…

“Daaaaddd!”

The criminals freeze for a moment. They’ve heard the stories of what happened the last time a Robin called scared for dad.

They’re fucked.

They all drop their guns and try to get Jason to calm down, but he’s crying just a little bit and calls again, his voice breaking and despite having been at the other side of the warehouse just a second ago, Bruce somehow drops from the ceiling and it’s over before the criminals can keep pleading with Robin to calm down.

Jason tries to apologize for ‘acting like a baby’ but Bruce is having none of it and carries him back to the Batmobile and Jason is happy to just hide his face in Bruce’s cape because he knows his dad will always be there to save him.

Then comes Tim.

And Tim gets found out while doing reconnisance and somehow he finds himself face to face with Bane who manages to wrench away his bo staff and Tim is just eleven and he is scared because Bane doesn’t look like he’s going to hold back

All Tim knows is that the crack he hears must surely be his ribs either cracking or breaking and he can’t breath and he can only muster enough air for a single word… and he calls for his dad through tears and fear

And at this point… at this point Batman has already lost a Robin, Tim may not be his legally but he is his son just as much as Jason was

Bane spends a month in the ICU

Tim is embarrased that he reacted like that. He thinks it makes him less of a Robin to called scared for Batman… for dad.

So Bruce tells him of the other two times it happened. It’s one of the first times he’s spoken about Jason to Tim so bluntly.

Then comes Stephanie.

Stephanie never calls Bruce dad when she’s Robin. She’s not his daughter and he’s not her dad. They’re not sure what exactly they are to one another.

As far as Bruce knows, Stephanie’s version of Robin never called out to him when she was scared.

What he doesn’t know is that it did happen. Just once

It was the last time she was Robin. When Black Mask had her and she thought she was going to die

At some point while bleeding and feeling nauseous and so scared she could barely hear anything that wasn’t her own heart beating wildly against her chest… she called for dad. Not for Arthur Brown, but for Bruce

Black Mask laughed at her

Stephanie never tells Bruce

And finally… Damian

Now, we know Damian would probably never be startled enough to call for Bruce out of instinct, so I can see 2 scenarios in which this could happen.

First, he sees another kid do it. He sees a kid close to his own age laughing and playing, then tripping and staying quiet for a split second before crying out for mom and dad and he just… assumes that’s something kids do when scared and hurt and startled and does it mostly in an attempt to be a little more ‘normal’

Or, my favorite scenario… he hears of the other times it has happened. He overhears maybe Dick remind Jason of what Bruce did when Jason called out to dad as Robin. Tim maybe jokes that a Robin calling for dad is still the villains’ greatest fear

So Damian stores that knowledge away as a battle strategy just in case he ever needs it… and maybe a small part of him wants to put it to the test, to see if his father would protect him as brutally as he’s protected the Robins before him

So some random night during patrol, he’s up against several henchmen, a few of them grab him from behind, trying to hold him down. Damian is fighting against them when one of them swings a cylinder of metal that Damian thinks might’ve been meant for the plumbing and…

The henchman breaks Damian’s nose, there’s blood dripping down his chin and staining his uniform

Now… it is most certainly not the first time he’s broken something, he’s more than used to the pain, in fact, he barely feels it. However, it gives him a chance to put his little theory to the test

And so Damian allows himself to sound like the ten year old that he is and in a whiny, teary voice, goes… “Babaaaaa!” (Bonus points if it’s the first or second time he’s called Bruce baba instead of father)

What Damian didn’t take into account though, is that Batman and Robin aren’t the only ones on patrol that night. They made a big bust. The biggest part of the operation was over but they were still fighting a few stragglers. The whole fucking family is here.

And they all hear his cry.

Damian doesn’t think he’s ever seen a fight end so quickly. The henchmen only have a split-second of surprise before vanishing, being tackled or shot or having knives buried on their shoulders by his siblings.

The one that actually broke Damian’s nose is being beaten up by Nightwing, Damian doesn’t think he’s ever seen Grayson so angry.

A shadow kneels in front of him, father. Baba. He’s checking Damian and Todd is right at his side, both speaking in hushed tones, checking his injuries and wiping the tears that usually came with a broken nose.

And now… Damian is used to his father and Grayson treating him like a child, trying to be as soft as they can with him. Even Cain does it to some extent.

But… having Drake wrap an arm around him, calling him baby when knocking out one of the criminals that had hurt him ‘that’s my fucking baby brother!’ and continue to hold him later into the night on the couch, having Brown willingly give up all the snacks she keeps in her utility belt and promise to take him to Batburger the following day for milkshakes because he was ‘a champ’. And Thomas wraps his favorite blanket around Damian while they’re fixing him up.

Todd decides to stay the night at the manor. Which he never does. They all decide to spend the night at the manor when Damian still sniffles on the Batmobile and they have breakfast all of them together. Which Damian isn’t sure has ever happened before and Cain gets Alfred to make pancakes with chocolate chips instead of blueberries.

They call him baby in hushed whispers but for once, it doesn’t bother him even though it really should

But most of all, Bruce refuses to let him go for a good five minutes after he first cries for him. Smoothing down his hair and whispering that it’ll be okay and just being soft in a way Damian has never seen before.

He sleeps between his Baba and Grayson and he knows that Todd and Drake and Cain check in on them at least twice in the night for some reason.

And he realizes it’s… it’s nice. Maybe this really could be an effective battle strategy to be employed again someday.

[mountainsandmayhem]

Tess's Treasures

18+, MDNI

Pairing: Tess x Joel x OC!Female x Female!Reader Summary: After perfecting the art of pickpocketing, you’re invited to join Tess’s Treasures. They’re infamous around the QZ and the initiation process is not what you expect, but exactly what you need. CW: If you’re not into foursomes/bi girl shit then you are in the wrong place. MFFF, bisexual females, fingering, masturbating, oral, dirty talk, praise kink, degradation kink. Unprotected p in v. Overstim and squirting. Please read this at your discretion. If this isn’t for you, that’s perfectly fine. AN: You can thank @mermaidgirl30 and @littlevenicebitch69 for being good little girls and filling my mind with depraved and twisted thoughts. This fic has truly been a labour of love, taking me almost 6 weeks to put together and edit. I'm not the least bit sorry about the word count, grab a snack, probably some electrolytes and maybe some spare batteries lol. Special shoutouts to @pedritoferg for their kind words when my imposter syndrome had the best of me. As always, dividers and support banners by @saradika-graphics. Friendly reminder that I'm phasing out my tag list, follow @mountainsandmayhem-updates for new fics.

Word Count: 9005

Becoming one of Tess’s Treasures seemed like a fallacy, a pipe dream. A fairytale life only reserved for the most vicious females that prowl the shady streets of the Boston QZ, and you aren’t a killer. A thief, yes; but not a killer. Truthfully, you weren’t even sure if the organization existed. Sure, Tess was a real person, but did she actually have a horde of women she called her Treasures? 

She was infamous in the seedy underbelly of Boston, her and her henchman Joel. Granted, no one ever seemed to see Joel, unless he was about to kill you. And sometimes not even then, he was often hiding in the shadows, shadows darker than the demons that allegedly haunted him.

Outbreak day happened when you were just little, you don’t remember much of the journey from your old hometown to Boston. Everyone here is poor, doing what they can to get credits to buy basic human needs; making trades and swaps were what most people did. You, however, were much more clever. After discovering a book detailing the art of sleight of hand you started practicing, and now you can take anything, right in front of someone's eyes, without them noticing. 

Or so you thought. After stealing a pistol from a FEDRA officer and replacing it with a banana, all while having a conversation with him in broad daylight, Tess approaches you.

“Come to my apartment next week. I wanna see if you have what it takes. Mum’s the word.” It’s a hushed whisper as she passes you, slipping a small card in your back pocket as she goes. 

You follow the cards' instructions, arriving at the exact time, going up to the top floor and then doing two quick, sharp knocks on the worn out door.

“Enter,” Tess says from inside. The door creaks on your way in. It’s the hottest day Boston has seen in years, and even in your small sundress, the room is stifling hot. The air is thick with the smell of gunpowder and something else that you can’t quite put your finger on. There’s a fan oscillating in the corner, the paint chipped off the cage that protects the blades. As it blows warm air past you, you realize that the other smell is sex. 

Tess is sitting on the couch to the right of the door, two mismatched wooden kitchen chairs in front of her. Straight ahead from the door is a small kitchen, and to the back left of the studio style apartment is the bed. Unmade, sheets tousled like someone just woke up, but based on the heady taste of the air in the room, the messy sheets are definitely from two people rolling around in them.

“Come sit,” Tess says firmly. You click the door shut behind you and head to the empty chair that’s waiting for you. The other chair is occupied by a small brunette woman. She has long slender limbs and doesn’t look like someone who would hang out with raiders, poachers and drug runners. Her hands are folded in her lap, ankles crossed under the chair. She doesn’t look over at you.

Tess leans forward, spreading her denim clad legs wide and resting her elbows on her knees. “Do you two know who I am?”

You both nod slowly. Up close, Tess is terrifying. She could have you killed with just a snap of her fingers, and Joel would do it however she wanted. From what you’ve heard, very slowly was her favourite way to have people eliminated from this earth. Quick deaths weren’t something she enjoyed when someone had fucked her over. 

“Speak!” she commands. The brunette jumps and even though you’ve mastered the art of pushing your fears down and masking your emotions, a small butterfly flaps its wings behind your navel. 

“Yes,” you say hoarsely as a meek ‘yes ma’am’ sounds beside you.

“Good. So then you know the….perks of being one of my Treasures,” Tess’s eyes twinkle as she says perks like she knows something you don’t. Like it’s more than the better living arrangements, food and medical care. Better than a sense of family and belonging.

She continues, “I’ve seen both of you at work. You,” her steel grey eyes are laser focused on yours, “With your quick hands, and you,” she adjusts her attention to the petite woman beside you, “With your ability to talk a man into almost anything. Before you can officially call yourself my Treasures, there’s a small matter of your…” Her voice trails, mouth ticking up on one side as she cocks her head and drags her eyes across both of your bodies.

“Well, your initiation.” She leans back onto the couch, knees falling wider. One arm drapes across the back, the worn cushion deflating slightly. The other rests on her thick, toned thigh. “I take care of my girls, but they need to show me that they can listen.”

The air seems thicker, and harder to fill your lungs with. Every move of her eyes is suggestive. Is she saying what you think she’s saying? You feel yourself begin to soak through your panties at the possibility of getting to fuck.

You aren’t left wondering for long as she points a long finger at the girl beside you, “Stand up, take off your clothes.”

“W-what?” the girl sputters. 

“I said to stand up and take off your fucking clothes,” the words almost seem to burn as she repeats herself. 

The girl stands so quickly that the chair falls, making a loud crash against the worn hardwood flooring. She stares at Tess for a moment, unsure if she should pick up the chair before she decides against it and pulls her blue cotton baby tee off, revealing a lacy white bra underneath. 

“That’s it,” Tess groans. “Take off those little shorts next.”

With shaky hands she moves to the button fly, each drag of the metal on denim seems to echo in the silent room. Tess licks her lips as she slides her shorts down her legs and kicks them to the side. “Come here,” Tess says, her voice already husky and deep. The woman walks over to Tess, stopping between her spread legs. Tess’s strong fingers grip the girl's hips and she gasps. “Turn around,” she urges, dragging her fingers along her hips as the mystery girl spins.

“What’s your name?” Tess asks. The girl's bright green eyes land on you and you see her breath hitch in her slender throat. She’s petite, probably a few inches shorter than you and at least a foot shorter than Tess. You’ve always been attracted to both men and women and there’s no denying that this little stranger is absolutely stunning. 

“Lydia,” she croaks.

“Are you nervous, Lydia?” Tess asks, cupping the globes of her ass in her hands, kneading and squeezing. Spreading them gently, exploring what she’s about to claim as hers. 

She nods her head and lets out a shaky moan of agreement.

“Go pick up your chair and sit down, Lydia.” Tess swats her bum as she walks away and Lydia yelps quietly.

Tess’s eyes now come to you. Staring straight into your soul. I’m sure if she could, her eyes would incinerate your clothes right off of you. It’s intoxicating. You, unlike Lydia, are not nervous. Not in the slightest. If anything, Tess’s attention on you only makes you wetter. Your panties are practically soaked through already. “And you, my little thief. What’s your name?”

You say your name confidently and squeeze your thighs together, trying to ease some of the ache that Tess’s newfound attention is bringing to the apex of your thighs.

Tess whispers your name back at you and it sends a shiver down your spine. She continues, “Get on your hands and knees and crawl to me.”

Lydia swallows loudly beside you as you drop to the floor, crawling seductively to Tess, head held high. The worn hardwood planks creak under your weight. Even the floor is warm and sticky from the weather. You make it to her, sitting back on your heels like the good little girl you are. She leans forward and tugs on the hem of your dress and her syrupy voice says, “Arms up”. You lift your ass slightly and she slips your dress up and over your head. It was too hot for a bra today so you’re left in just a lacy pink thong.

“Mmmm, look at those pretty tits,” Tess hums, her fingers gliding along the plush soft skin of your breasts before ghosting over your nipples making the arm whoosh from your lungs. “You like that? Me touching your nipples.”

You breathe out a yes, eyes shutting as she pinches your pebbled buds roughly. “Oh god, yes.”

The old worn couch groans as Tess sits back, “Go take her bra and panties off.”

You climb to your feet and walk over to Lydia, holding out a hand and helping her stand. You move behind her and trail your fingers down the soft skin of her spinal column before popping the clasp of her bra. Lydia slides it off her body, arms crossing to block her now exposed breasts. Goosebumps rise across her from head to toe. You shush her and rub up and down her arms. Lydia relaxes under your touch and she drops her arms, Tess nods at you once, a silent encouragement to continue. You get down on your knees, hooking your index fingers in the waistband of her panties and sliding them down. Her round ass is in your face, she smells like fresh linen and rain. You fight the urge to kiss the sensitive little spot right where her ass crack starts.

“So fucking beautiful. Sit back down, Lydia.” Tess says and you want to cry out in protest. Her body is so enticing, soft and warm. She focuses back on you and says, “Stand in front of Lydia so she can take your panties off.”

You stand gracefully, biting your bottom lip as you maneuver yourself in front of Lydia. “Spread your legs,” you whisper, determined to help her so you can put on the best show for Tess. Lydia parts her knees and you twirl to face Tess, gathering your hair in one hand as Lydia slides your soaked panties down your legs. You kick them to the side and seductively drop your hair, smiling sweetly at Tess.

“Sit,” Tess barks. Lydia gasps behind you, but you like this; being told what to do. Commanded. Used. Tess continues after you sit, “I want you both to touch yourselves. Show me how you like it, but don’t come. You haven’t earned that yet. Understood?”

“Yes ma’am,” Lydia says, looking down at her hands. You nod eagerly, already sliding your ass to the edge of the chair and spreading your legs wide for her. Tess stares at your glistening core hungrily, leaning forward again to rest her muscular forearms on her knees. Her hair falls forward and frames her face. Her expression is hard, like you don’t want to disobey her in these moments. Brows are slightly knit together, lips in a thin line. She looks beautiful and dangerous, but as you bring your pointer and ring fingers to your entrance she softens a little, cocking her head to the side slightly. 

Lydia keeps her legs closed, slipping a finger down her slit and rubbing slowly from side to side. She whimpers silently beside you, glancing at you nervously. Your fingers easily slip inside of your soft, dripping hole. 

Tess’s eyes dance between the two of you. “Two very different girls,” she says to the room, neither of you stopping what you’re doing, both determined to become a part of her Treasures. “One of you seems shy, but I can work with that. Help you get out of your shell. And then there’s you,” her focus locks on you as she gets up with a grunt and saunters over to you. “You are a little whore, aren’t you? So eager to please.”

You feel yourself getting wetter at her attention and mean words. She pets your head lightly a few times, laughing quietly at how you lean into her touch, your eyes fluttering closed. Just as your lashes hit your cheeks she grabs a handful, pulls hard and gets within inches of your face. “You’re going to be a problem, aren’t ya?”

“No,” you gasp, your orgasm right on the precipice, so you slow your motions. “I’ll be good, Tess.”

“Did I say you could slow down?”

“I - I’m gonna come,” you whine. 

“No, you’re not. You just told me you’d be good. And good girls don’t come until they’re told.” She releases your hair and you suck in a breath. Tess’s presence is palpable, she seems to take up all the space and air in the apartment by just being here. “Do NOT come, that’s an order.”

Just as the last sentence leaves her mouth the door opens and the apartment gets smaller, like your whole existence is being put in a vacuum sealer. The deep chuckle that comes from whoever just entered makes your scalp prickle, but you keep your focus on Tess.

“What’re we doin’ here, Tess?” The voice is deep, with a slight southern accent highlighting an occasional word. It can only belong to one man, the only man allowed near Tess’s Treasures. Joel Miller. He’s feared and revered in the Boston QZ. Runs the drug trade that keeps both FEDRA and the seedy underbelly running. You’ve never seen him before, but you’ve heard stories.

“Recruits,” Tess says, walking over to Lydia, crouching in front of her. “This one is shy. The other one - well, I might need your help with her.”

Your clit feels like it’s zapped with electricity at her threatening promises and you moan loudly, pausing your fingers that have been plunging in and out of you as per Tess’s requests. “See,” she says flatly, hands massaging Lydia’s plush tanned thighs. 

You hear Joel’s heavy footsteps as he walks towards you, you can feel his heat and smell the tobacco coming off his skin. When he steps into your line of vision everything blurs. He’s beautiful and dangerous, but overall he’s the most incredible specimen you’ve ever seen. Your brain seems to go blank, like a hard reset, until all you see and smell and care about is Joel. You keep your eyes locked on his face, his brows crease, lips pressed tightly together. He plants his hands on his hips as his coffee and whiskey eyes slowly trail down your body. When he gets to your soaked and swollen pussy he licks his lips. “You gonna let her come?” He asks Tess but doesn’t take his eyes off you.

The fog clouding your brain clears and you glance towards Lydia and Tess. She has her legs spread and Tess is smiling encouragingly up at her, hand on top of hers, teaching her where to touch. 

“She can come when she’s earned it. Lydia’s earned it though. Haven’t you?” She nods at Lydia as she squirms in the wooden kitchen chair. “That’s it, show us.”

Lydia speeds the up and down motion of her hand sloppily, you can hear the wetness as her movements become more erratic. Joel’s eyes haven’t left you, still watching you fuck your fingers in and out of yourself, almost mesmerized by you. 

“Tess,” Lydia murmurs.

“Go ahead, baby. Come for me. Let me see that pretty little pussy twitch.” 

Lydia’s body starts to shake as she cries out, her hand slowing as she whines and moans, “Oh god. Oh god. Yesyesyes.”

You peel your eyes away from her and squeeze every muscle in your body as tightly as you can, holding on, not letting yourself come. Looking at Joel makes it nearly impossible not to tip over that very tantalizing edge, so you clamp your eyes shut. “Tess,” Joel says, his voice a baritone whisper. “You’re torturing this one, look at her.”

He’s right, she is torturing you; but, what Joel doesn’t know is that you love it. You love being denied just as much as you love being used. You love being pinned down or tied up. You love having your throat or pussy or ass fucked in any and all positions known to humankind. The world is a dark and horrible shit show, but sex? Ya, sex makes you feel alive. 

“Torturing her would be not letting her touch herself at all. She should be thanking me.” Tess turns her attention back to Lydia, helping her stand up and pulling her to the couch. “You did such a good job for me. You looked stunning as you fell apart.”

You open your eyes at the movement of them. They stop and stand facing each other in front of the couch as Tess removes her shirt, her breasts are small and perky with light pink nipples. Joel looks away from you, staring appreciatively at the woman he’s sworn to protect. She pops the button on her jeans. “Take them off her, Lydia. Tess shouldn’t have to work this hard,” Joel commands. 

You whimper at the timbre of Joel's voice when he’s giving instructions and his eyes whip back to you. “You like that, don’t you? Being told what to do.”

“Yes, oh god, please can I come Tess,” you cry, eyes still locked with Joels.

“Lydia is going to lick my pussy, Joel is going to move out of the way so I can see you, and when I say you can come I want you to be loud. I want to hear those slutty little moans. Got it?”

Joel doesn’t hesitate, stepping behind your chair. He must be leaning over you because you swear you can feel his breath on the shell of your ear. Tess sits on the couch and tugs at Lydia’s wrist gently, encouraging her to kneel in front of her. “Come on,” she whispers and then places her finger at the top of her pussy. “Just lick and kiss right here. You can do it.”

Lydia moves slowly, giving you a knowing glance over her shoulder as she gets into Tess’s desired position. You suddenly realize that she’s more clever than you initially thought. She’s not shy, she knows exactly what she’s doing. Tess likes to lead, so she acted like she needed the guidance. And now she’s come and you haven’t. Tess’s head falls back, jaw going slack as Lydia tastes her. 

“Does that turn you on?” Joel whispers, his warm breath hitting your neck. “Seeing Tess being eaten out. She deserves that every day, you know. She’s gonna take such good care of you, so you better care for her.”

“I will,” you mumble. “I’ll do whatever she needs. Whenever. Fuuuuck.”

“Look how wet you’re getting, I don’t think you can hold it for much longer.” He’s taunting you now. “Little thing loves to come, doesn’t she?”

“No, Tess gets to - oh god - she says when,” you’re squeezing as tight as you can, holding back the orgasm that’s right there, like a seesaw teetering, so close to tipping to the other side and slamming through you. 

Lydia slurps at Tess, you can hear her sucking at her clit as Tess moans and tangles her fingers into Lydia’s hair. “Yes, that’s it. Fuck, right there.”

You let out a breathy whine and Tess’s eyes come to you. “Ssshh, not yet. Oh shit, Lydia. So good.”

Joel laughs into your ear. “Just come, what’s the worst she’s going to do? Spank you? Let me fuck your throat? I bet you like being punished.”

You shake your head, trying to block out all the lewd mental images he’s creating. “No, Joel.” you huff, refocusing on holding it in, thinking of all the unsexy thoughts you can as you watch Tess, waiting for your time. 

Tess’s legs begin to shake, “get ready, baby. We are going to come together.” 

Your wrist begins to ache, it feels like you’ve been fucking yourself for hours. “I need to, please. You look so - “

She cuts you off, “Joel, take over for her. I’m gonna come.”

Joel practically leaps in front of you, grabbing your wrist and pulling your drenched fingers out while slipping his two thick fingers into your mouth. You bob up and down on his fingers still looking at Tess. Her eyes are glazed over, and a bead of sweat slides down the line of her toned stomach and lands in her belly button. 

“Now, Joel,” she whines and Joel wastes no time slamming his fingers inside of you. You cry out at the stretch, pleasure mixing with pain before he pumps his fingers forward. “Come right now,” Tess says. 

You look down at Joel, his thumb coming to caress your swollen bundle of nerves and you cry out, the room filled with your loud moans just like she wants. You hear both her and Joel encouraging you. Joel’s Texas twang washing over you,  “that’s it, fuckin clenchin. Fuck you’re so tight.”

Joel is relentless, curling and dragging his fingers in and out of you as you writhe in your chair. “Tess, oh god, yes.”

Joel's other hand slaps the inside of your thigh, “LOUDER!” he demands.

You squeal at the hot pain that splashes along your thigh, “hhnnngg, thank you. Fuck.” Your pleasurable moans turn into whines of pain as the overstimulation starts to seep in. You try to pull back and bring your knees together and Joel lets out a growl. He looks up at you dangerously and your stomach clenches. This is the wild, animalistic Joel Miller that everyone fears. 

You start to panic, he’s not stopping and you don’t know if you can take much more. You’re so wrapped in his onyx gaze and a mix of fear and arousal that you don’t notice Tess behind Joel until she speaks. Her voice is soft yet firm as she cards her fingers through his greying curls, “Joel, that’s enough.”

He blinks hard, seemingly coming out of some sort of trance, and then slips his fingers from you, strings of milky arousal coating his fingers. “Good boy,” she whispers. “Help her up, but you don’t get to touch either of them until I say so.”

He nods and then stands, helping you up. Lydia is lounging lazily on the couch, her face still glistening with Tess’s juices. Your knees shake underneath you and Joel wraps an arm around your waist. You’ve had plenty of orgasms in your life, but never one that deep and strong. Your pussy is aching and you just want to sleep.

Tess sits on the chair that Lydia was on and spreads her legs slightly. “Lydia,” she crooks her fingers at her, calling her over. “Turn around, pretty girl. Straddle my thigh.”

Lydia follows Tess’s instructions, that fake nervous pout of her lips on display for Joel. Clever, very clever, you think through heavy eyelids. 

“Joel, help her on the other thigh and bring that chair.” Joel guides and steadies you as you sit on Tess’s thigh, then places the extra chair in front of the three of you. “Use the chair for balance,” Tess instructs, her hand running up and down your spine gently. 

You both lean forward, your sweaty palms slipping slightly against the wooden chair. You both gasp quietly as your swollen clits press into her muscular thigh, as she caresses your backs and hips. Joel sits on the couch across from you, one arm draped across the back and his legs spread. He watches you intently, eyes blown out and curls sticking to his forehead. It’s not lost on you that he hasn’t focused much attention on the other girl. You look over at Lydia and she’s smiling flirtatiously at you. Your faces are just inches apart and she nudges at your nose with hers.

“Ladies,” Tess starts, “this is the part where you show Joel what you can do. He’s going to kill people for you, and when he does, you need to repay him.”

You graze your lips against Lydias, her skin tastes like peaches and Tess’s cunt. 

“Pretend my thigh is Joel's cock, show him how you’ll ride him.”

You flick your attention back to Joel, and his expression shifts from hard to a tortured need. You rake your eyes down his strong chest, still concealed by that fucking denim button up that you want to rip off with your teeth. He’s dangerous and could easily snap your neck with two fingers, but fuck, if that doesn’t make you want him more. Lydia presses her lips to your throat and you start to grind back and forth on Tess’s thigh. 

You continue to take in Joel’s body, stopping when you get to his lap. Your eyes widen at the distinct outline of his hard cock pressing behind the zipper of his jeans. Your bottom lip slips between your teeth as you lock eyes with him again. His coffee coloured irises are almost onyx as he shifts in his seat. He wants you - just as much as you want him, and you just hope that you can break him enough so Tess lets him have you. 

Tess’s strong hand travels up the smooth skin of your back, tangling her hands in the hair at the nape of your neck. “Tell Joel how good it feels, baby. Lydia, keep kissing her.”

Lydia’s lips suck at your skin. “Mmm, fuck Joel. Feels s’good. Wish it was your big cock filling me up, sliding in and out of my tight, wet pussy.” Tess tugs at your hair to open your neck more for Lydia and you yelp.

“Keep talking, baby girl,” Joel says, his hand moving to palm himself over his jeans. “Tell me what you want.”

You grind harder into Tess’s thigh, between the sting in your scalp from her hand, Lydia’s soft lips on your neck, and Joel’s intense stare, it almost becomes hard to breathe. Every bit of their attention is on you.

“I-I want you to, mmmm, to pin me down,” you take in a shaky breath, never taking your eyes off him. “To f-fuck me…from behind. Want you to f-fill, oh god, fill me.”

Joel pops the button of his jeans, reaching down his pants to grip himself through his tight grey boxers. You continue breathily, “Wanna feel you spank me. Slam inside of me. Dominate me.”

“Good girl,” Tess says, releasing her grip on your hair and pulling Lydia off your neck, before pressing in between your shoulder blades until you’re flush with her thigh. You crane your neck to keep your eyes on Joel, looking at him through the wooden slats of the back of the chair in front of you. “Your turn, Lydia. Tell Joel what you want.”

She clears her throat before beginning, “If he killed for me, I wouldn’t make him do any work. I’d lay him down, lick and kiss every inch of him before sliding him in my mouth. Taking him deep, cradling his balls with my hand. I’d swallow every drop.”

Joel lets out a noncommittal grunt, almost like a secret language between him and Tess. Joel leans forward and removes his denim button up and t-shirt in one swoop. His tanned and toned chest makes your mouth water. His chiselled pecs and soft belly have trimmed salt and pepper hair dusted across them, he toes off his shoes and then lifts his hip, sliding his jeans down his legs. His skin glistens with sweat and you want to lick it all off of him, drink up his salt and musk, his innate Joel-ness. 

“Come here, Joel.” She says. 

“Sit up,” she says softly to you. Joel stalks forward like he’s about to claim what’s his and your pussy clenches around nothing in hopes that it’s you.

“Ride my thighs, girls. Whoever cums first, Joel gets to fuck.” You spit into your hand and reach between your legs, gently spreading your lips and coating yourself in saliva.

A deep, “holy fuck” leaves Joel's lips at the sight of you. Yes, he definitely wants you just as much as you want him. You move your hands from the chair to Tess’s knee and grind your hips in small, slow circles. Your arms push your tits together for Joel. Beside you, Lydia stops moving. She sits as still as a statue, looking over her shoulder seductively at Tess. A loud slap fills the room, followed by a lust filled moan that you didn't think Lydia was capable of. 

“Tess,” she says, all airy and breathy. Her tone feels sweet on your skin. “I don’t like sleeping with men.” 

You keep grinding, your focus on Joel. He’s so close that you could reach out and grab one of his muscular forearms. You’re going to fuck him. You want to fuck him. Any way he wants. Any hole he wants. None of it matters, you just want to feel him, smell him, taste him. 

Tess lets out an impressed sigh. “You’re even more amazing than I thought, Lydia. Had me telling you how to lick a pussy, how to touch yourself. But you already know. Don’t you?” She slaps Lydia’s ass again and the loud noise even has you clenching. Fuck, you want Joel to spank you. Or Tess. Even Lydia at this point. 

It’s wrong. And taboo. But who can say what’s right or wrong in this new world anymore? 

“You are going to have to do things for Joel, little temptress. It’s part of the deal.” You see Tess’s hands come to Lydia’s hips, encouraging her to grind at the same pace you’ve set. “So ride me. Let me feel that slick little pussy, let me feel it quiver on my thigh.” 

Things are quiet for a moment, just the squelching sounds of both your cunts gliding along her smooth thigh. You lean into Lydia, desperate for more. More what, you aren’t sure. Just more.

She responds to your touch, her nose brushing your cheek before you turn into her and kiss her deeply. Slanting your head to taste her tongue against yours. She’s sweet, like strawberry jam. Lips so soft they almost don’t feel real. Her teeth clamp onto your bottom lip and you cry out. The perfect amount of pain to increase the pleasure between your legs. When she lets go you’re panting. 

“She’s close, Tess,” Joel murmurs like he knows your body so well, but he’s not wrong. He continues speaking casually to Tess as if you aren’t in the same room. “Do I really get to fuck her if she cums first?” 

You grind down harder, kissing Lydia again. You love them talking about you as if you aren’t here. Making the decisions for you. 

“As soon as she cums, you take her to the bed.” Tess’s strong hand lays a sharp slap on the meaty globe of your ass and you crumble. 

“YES!” You scream, convulsing as the pleasure courses through you. You look up at Joel through your lashes, jaw slack, voice weak and desperate. “Joel. Please. Please.” 

He drops his boxers and his thick cock spring free. Slapping against his belly. The tip is smooth and leaking, he’s bigger than you thought and somehow your throat dries out as your cheeks fill with saliva. As you come down from your second orgasm you realize that you can do this. You are going to do whatever Tess says and become one of her Treasures. 

“Think you can take him?” Tess hums as Lydia falls apart beside you, moaning sweetly. Tess adds, “Good girl, Lydia. So perfect when you cum.”  

You decide to take a page out of Lydia's book and act innocent. “N-no,” you stammer. “It’s…I don’t…it’s too big.” 

Joel snorts, “You’re not a very good liar my little slut.” 

Before you can respond he’s lifted you up and over his broad shoulder. His skin is warm against your belly. You giggle mischievously as his hands dig into the plush skin on the back of your thighs. He can so easily overpower you, so easily destroy you - mentally and physically. And you’d let him, and to make it worse, you’d thank him afterwards and probably ask him to do it again. 

He drops you on the bed. “Don’t move.” 

You nod and swallow the dry lump in your throat. You definitely want this, even if you shouldn’t. Even if that logical voice inside your head is screaming at you to put up the wall, block him out like you do with everyone else. But the infinitesimal hint of softness in his face that can only be seen by the two of you keeps you sucked in. He won’t hurt you, no. Something in his eyes gives him away, he wants to please you with those hands that have brought pain and torture to so many others. 

He walks back over to Tess and Lydia who are completely entranced with one another. Lydia is now sitting fully in Tess’s lap. Her back pressed to Tess’s front, both her legs draped over Tess’s as she pressed kisses along the tops of one of her shoulders and rubs her fingers gently from her pussy up to Lydia’s. Joel kneels in front of them, both of their legs spread, wet pussy’s glistening and on display for him. The sight of Joel Miller on his knees does something unexplainable to you. He’s so goddamn delicious. 

He looks over at you again, that softness still coaxing you deeper into his web, tangling around you, claiming you. His large hands cup Tess’s inner thighs and then he dives into both their pussy’s. Jealousy swirls in your stomach as he draws a sloppy wet line from Tess’s entrance to her clit, then up to Lydia in the same manner. 

“Oh, fuck Joel,” Tess cries as Lydia whimpers.

“Too much, baby?” he says gruffly to Lydia who nods before burying her face into the crook of Tess’s neck. “Little more, m’kay?”

He licks at them again, Tess’s moan ending as Lydia’s starts. Joel doesn’t stop. He uses long languid and lazy strokes of his tongue as he eats at both of them.

“J-Jo - fuuuck Joel!” Tess murmurs, her head falling back and mouth falling open in a silent scream. She wraps her arms tightly around Lydia as her legs start to tremble. Joel’s deltoids and biceps flex as he pushes to keep her thighs apart.

“Fuck, Tess.” Lydia purrs, “You look so goddamn hot when you cum. Suck on her clit, Joel. Make our girl squeal.” You can hear him slurp her swollen and twitching nub into his mouth. As it slips along his soft and puffy lips her pained sounding moans start to become mumbles of pleasure. Joel works her through her orgasm, not stopping until he knows she's good and sated.  

Lydia reaches back, twisting to kiss Tess deeply and then whispers into her lips. Whatever she says gets Joel's attention and he releases her clit with a pop before looking up at the two women. You haven’t moved from where Joel left you, as fun as being a brat is, he could probably dish out a punishment so intense that even you would break and use whatever safe word he gave you. Lydia whispers more, Joel smirks at whatever she’s saying and then the three of them all slowly turn to look over at you.

Fuck

Joel stands, his hands coming to the outsides of Tess’s knees and guiding her as she closes her legs, then he gives a hand to Lydia to help her stand before repeating the same with Tess. He stands tall and broad, completely naked and fully erect between these two powerhouse women, linking his fingers with Tess and smiling over at her. She gives him a little nod and your stomach flips as your pussy clenches.

This is it, you think.

“Little slut,” he says deeply, “‘M’gonna fuck you now, while they hold you down. Understood?”

You try to say yes, but just air seems to leave your lungs. Tess and Lydia climb along each side of you, hooking their arm under your leg and pulling back to open you for Joel. Your arms are trapped under their bodies as they lay beside you.  You’re pinned and exposed; fully at Joel, Tess and Lydia’s mercy. 

The bed dips as Joel settles between your thighs, his large body looms over you, resting himself on one forearm beside your head, his other hand wrapped around his cock, running it up and down your folds.

“So wet for me. So soft,” he presses the fat tip of his cock at your entrance and you gasp. “Shit! S’tight too, baby girl.”

Tess and Lydia nuzzle into you, lightly dragging their noses along your neck and jawline. “J-Joel, fuck me. Pleaseplease. Fuck me”

Joel presses his hips forwards, and the thick, smooth mushroom head of his cock pushes at your weeping cunt again. “Look at me, little slut,” he rasps. You don’t hesitate, look at him with big innocent eyes, biting your lower lip. He spits into his palm and then coats his throbbing dick with it, fisting himself up and down. He raises an eyebrow at you cockily, “Say it again.”

“Fuck me, fuck me, please!”

Without warning Joel slams into you, stretching you painfully and your body jolts. You try to slam your knees together but the naked women on each side of you keep you spread open widely for Joel. “Shit baby,” he says through gritted teeth as his body folds over yours, his hands caging all three of you in. Tess nips at your neck, while Lydia sucks at your earlobe after whispering, “Relax, little slut, we all got you.”

Your lungs slowly come back to you. You take a deep, full breath in, and it feels like you haven’t taken a proper breath since seeing Joel for the first time. As you exhale you’re completely surrounded by Joel Miller. His large body is all you can see and feel. Meanwhile, all you can taste and smell is his tobacco scent and the salt of the sweat that coats his tanned skin. You’re addicted, you want to be able to inject him right into your veins. Your pussy relaxes around him and the pain ebbs into pleasure, and you need more.

“More, please more,” you murmur into his neck.

“There she is,” Tess whispers in your ear and you whimper.

“Say it again,” Joel commands.

“Fuck me, Joel,” you cry. “Please, fuck me. Make me your little slut for real.”

Lydia giggles seductively in your ear, pulling you into her tighter.

“Open her all the way for me,” he says to the other two. “S’too tight for me.”

He sits himself up and your knees are pulled open and back. Joel keeps his eyes locked on yours as he tilts his chin a bit and splits on your already soaked pussy. His veiny hands come to the back of your thighs, squeezing and massaging at your sensitive skin.

“Think I should fuck her, Lydia?” He starts, and soon they’re talking about you again as if you aren’t even there, the slick walls of your cunt fluttering as they speak.

“She's been good, hasn’t she?” Lydia says in a syrupy aroused tone.

“No she hasn’t,” Tess says between kisses along your jawline. “She’s a thief. She’s a bad girl.”

Joel slaps the inside of one of your thighs, with just enough of a flick in his wrist that it immediately sends a zap of pleasure toward your clit. Lydia feels you relax more into her grips, “She likes it when you hit her, Joel”.

“Of course she does,” Tess moans. “She’s a little slut.” She hits the t at the end of the word hard and Joel slaps you again. Right in the same spot, precision that you’ve never known before from a man who kills without being seen. 

“Should feel how tight she is, maybe she had us fooled,” Joel says, eyes shifting between the two women, wholly avoiding your gaze. You’re so desperate for his attention, and the humiliation of him not returning it arouses you so much more than it should.

“What’d’ya mean, baby boy?” Tess asks, her warm breath hitting your neck, causing a shiver to run down your spine.

“Like a virgin, squeezin’ me like a vice.”

“She’s shakin,” Lydia adds. “Poor girl.”

“You two don’t stop kissing her while I do this,” they both nod and he flips his attention back to you. “I wanna hear you screamin’. Got it, little slut?”

You shudder under his intense stare. “Yes, yes, Joel. Please, just fuck me. Pleeease!”

He pulls halfway out and then slams back in, his heavy balls slap at your taint and asshole, your needy high pitched moans filling the room. Your whole body constricts around Joel and as it relaxes it feels like heaven. No one has made your body feel like this. “That feel good?” Joel says tauntingly, his hands gripping into the back of your thighs.

“Please - fuck, yes. More,” you mumble, almost incoherently. 

“Show our girl, Joel. Show her what he can have once she’s my Treasure.” Tess commands.

What’s that saying, ‘You say jump, I say how high’? Well, when Tess says jump, Joel is already mid jump, doing it exactly how Tess wants it. He’s already dragging his cock out slowly, all the way to the tip, before slamming fast and hard back into you.

“Harder,” Tess growls, biting your neck as Joel repeats the motion. Lydia squirms against you, her soft warm skin slipping along the thin sparkling layer of sweat that coats your body. “Look at her. Pliant, soft. Letting Joel do whatever he wants.”

“That’s cuz she’s a good girl,” Lydia moans, kissing the sensitive skin under your earlobe. 

Joel brings one of his hands to cup your chin, his thumb running around your bottom lip softly. “Gotta relax for me, little slut.”

You take a breath and as you exhale you can feel the grip your pussy has on his thick cock loosen. “That’s it. That’s my girl.”

“Good job, baby girl,” Tess whispers, kissing at your throat again. 

“Fuck her now, Joel.” Lydia says, “We got her.”

Joel sets a quick pace, slamming in and out of you. His name and a string of swears leaving your lips with every thrust, just the screams of your pleasure and the squelching of your pussy filling the room. Tess and Lydia whisper praises as Joel is possessed by your cunt. Pounding and pounding into you without pause. Over and over, he’s relentless. A man possessed. You can’t help but wonder if he’s like this with all other women or if this is just for you. His hand falls from your chin, landing beside Tess’s head on the mattress, the other still gripped to your thigh. His short nails dig into your skin, leaving you marked with signs of him. 

“That’s it,” Lydia hums. “Taking it like such a good girl.”

Tess’s teeth lightly scrape at your jawline. “Come on, baby. I wanna see you come again.”

“So fuckin’ pretty when you come,” Joel says each word at the end of his harsh thrusts. His voice is gravelly and deep. Seeping under your skin and into your DNA, the very fabric of your being. You belong to him, no questions asked.

“M-more. I - more - please.” You aren’t sure what you mean by more, but Joel seems to know your body better than you as he sits himself back up and brings his thumb to your clit, teasing it gently and you writhe under him. It’s almost too much but you need it, and even more, you need Joel not to stop.

He hammers into you again, slower this time, but still with an intense flick of his hips at the end. The leaking tip of his cock pressing against the perfect spongy part behind your clit.

“Can see you in her stomach, Cowboy.” Tess moans. Both the women feather long, lingering kisses along your neck. The juxtaposition of their soft actions and the bruising dance of Joel’s hip is just as confusing as it is arousing. 

“Rub her clit a little harder, Joel. I think she’s getting close.” You clench around him at Lydia’s words and cry out loudly. 

He swirls his thumb easily along your lubricated clit, the mixture of both of your arousals and his spit making it slippery. “Ohgod, hnnnnggg, J-Joel pleasepleaseplease.”

“Sssshhh, baby,” he soothes, pausing with his hips pushed flush to your ass. “Gotta relax, remember?”

You whimper in agreement, nodding your head as you try to slow your breathing and your heart rate. “There she goes,” Joel moans as your pussy walls flutter and then relax.

He starts to fuck you slowly, circling your swollen velvety nub with the rough pad of his thumb. His other hand leaves your thigh, massaging your breast, pinching at the nipple with his thumb and forefinger. “Fuck, you feel so good. So tight. Gonna fill you one day.”

“Today, please!” you protest through a salacious moan.

“Tell her,” he says to the women holding you in their arms, speeding up the circles of his thumb.

“Lydia,” Tess whispers, like it’s a secret just for the three of you, “Tell her your plan.”

You’re lost in a daze as Lydia says your name into your skin. When you don’t respond she nips gently at you and says, “Baby? You with me?”

“Y-yes. Fuuuuuuck,” you say wantonly.

“Joel is gonna make you cum, then pull out and cum all over our faces. After, we are going to lick it all off each other.” She says it with a hint of mischief and lust in her voice.

The three of them praise and encourage you as Joel keeps fucking you and rubbing your clit at the same time. You have no idea how long you’ve been in this apartment, how long you’ve been floating on a vibrating fluffy cloud of pleasure and craving. Whispers of “Good girl”, “so pretty”, and “fuck listen to how wet you are” travel through you.  

The electric currents of pleasure that sizzle along your skin all come to the base of your spine. Pressure building, so very close to exploding around all of you. “Come on, little slut. Let go for me.”

Lydia and Tess say ‘Come on’ and ‘relax into it’ at the same time.

“Shit, J-Joel,” you whimper. A tear runs down your cheek.

“I know, I’m here,” he says, voice slightly softer than earlier. “I know.”

The pressure becomes unbearable and then everything snaps. Your pussy flutters as the pleasure starts to consume every single inch of your being. Your vision blurs, every muscle going lax as you twitch unconsciously underneath him. 

“Good girl. Yes, that’s my good little slutty girl,” he growls. Your orgasm continues to tear through you, ripping you in half and you know when you come down only Joel will be able to stitch you back up again. 

Joel presses his large palm to your mound, and just as you feel yourself start to come down you’re on the precipice of another orgasm. “Got another one for me, baby?”

“Yesyesyes - yeeesss,” you’ve forgotten words, you’re just a bundle of pleasure. No muscles or bones or thoughts of your own. Just a pliant body, that’s fully under the control of Joel Miller. 

Your second orgasm hits you hard, tearing anything you had left in half. “She’s gonna squirt,” Joel mumbles.

“Just let it go,” Lydia whispers, suckling on your earlobe. 

You push into the feeling, letting it overtake you as liquid gushes from your cunt, coating Joel's pelvis and pooling on the bed below you. It splashes as Joel keeps up his pace. You scream out in pleasure. Lydia and Tess talking you through it quietly, “Good girl. Stay relaxed for me,” Tess says as Lydia adds, “Let it take you, we’re right here.”

The pleasure starts to ebb, it’s becoming too much as Tess whispers, “Breathe, baby girl. Just breathe.”

“Can’t, Tess.” you whimper, turning your face towards her. “Please,” you plead. If you learned anything from earlier, it’s that only Tess can make him stop. 

“Ok, baby, you’re ok,” she hums. She looks up at Joel above all of you and drops her voice, “That’s enough now, Joel.”

Joel pulls away from your clit and you sigh in relief, both his hands coming to your breasts, squeezing them roughly as his thrusts become sloppy. “Get ready,” he huffs through gritted teeth. Both Tess and Lydia scoot up so their faces are pressed against yours.

Joel slips out of you with a lewd pop and practically bends you in half to get over your faces. “Open your mouths and look at me,” he commands. The three of you obey, anything for the man who is going to kill for you or defend you to the very end if need be. 

His hand is tight around his cock, pumping himself quickly, the cords of muscle and veins along his forearm start to pop. His balls are full and heavy, tight against his body as he edges closer to his release. You stare at him, soaking in how wrecked he looks as he gets closer. His brows pinch together, onyx and whiskey flecked eyes looking only at you before his face goes lax and he lets out a deep, loud moan. Warm ropes of opaque white cum paint your faces.

As soon as he’s done he pulls away, Tess and Lydia letting go of your legs as the three of you kiss and lick at each other's sticky faces. Joel tastes better than you could have imagined, a heady mix of saltiness that leaves you insatiable for more.

Joel sits back on his heels watching the three of you slurp him up. He has a proud smirk on his face and when your eyes find his he winks at you before getting up and grabbing a towel off the top of the small dresser near the bed. Tess says something hushed to Lydia as you and Joel look at one another. Lydia pressed a kiss to your cheek before getting off the bed and following Tess into another room, the unmistakable sound of the shower alerting you to where they’ve gone.

Joel climbs beside you, looking down at you hesitantly. “You ok?” he whispers.

“Ya,” you sign sleepily. “I’m ok, Joel.”

He brings the towel to your thighs, soaking up your arousal. “I didn’t hurt ya?”

The towel ghosts along your swollen folds and you gasp, turning your head into Joel’s strong upper body. “I know, sorry.” He hisses, hating that he’s causing you discomfort. “But I gotta clean you up.”

He dabs gently with the soft towel causing an aftershock that shakes through your body and you feel yourself squirt again. Not nearly as much this time but a euphoric moan leaves your lips. Joel tucks the towel between your legs and guides your face up to meet his. His brown eyes burn themselves into your soul, “do you need more, baby? Just tell me.”

“It’s sensitive,” you whine.

He lifts an eyebrow slightly, “does it hurt?”

You stick your bottom lip out and nod sadly.

“Need me to kiss it?” he asks gently, his hooked nose rubbing against yours. 

You look at him hesitantly. Of course, you want Joel’s plush lips on your pussy, but a flap of a butterfly wing could probably cause you to implode at this point. 

“You can say another time,” he whispers, lips hovering over yours. He doesn’t know where this side of him has come from. Joel Miller is a simple man. Murder who Tess says, fuck any one of her Treasures that offer to get the adrenaline out afterwards, then leave them in their apartment pumped full of his cum. He usually can’t wait to rush back to his apartment to take a shower and shoot back a mix of whiskey and sleeping pills. But with you, he feels the need to care for you afterwards, and he has a strong feeling that you’re going to be a very large distraction in his life from now on. 

I’m fucked, he thinks to himself.

You lean forward to sponge your lips against his. He kisses you sweetly, pulling you in tighter as you hum contently into his lips.

“I don’t think I can tonight,” you say softly after breaking the kiss. 

“That’s ok, little slut.” He rolls onto his back, pulling you with him so you’re resting on top of him. Legs straddling his hips and your head resting on his chest. You shiver against him, tucking your arms into your body. His hands scramble for the blanket, wrapping it around the two of you, kissing the top of your head. “Tomorrow, after Tess officially makes you her Treasure, that will be your gift from me.”

You nod into his chest, he smells like gunpowder, fresh sawdust and sweat as your eyelids become heavy and the world seems to slip away. You have trouble sleeping normally, I mean who wouldn’t in this fucked up new world you’re all in, but with Joel, it happens almost too easily. Sleep just takes you to a deep and uninterrupted place for who knows how long. But when you wake you’re in a large grey t-shirt in a small bedroom, not the same one you fell asleep in. You hear the peaceful and melodic breathing of someone beside you. You move slowly, peeling open your eyes to see Joel sleeping beside you. The moonlight dances softly along his face, grey hairs glinting in the light. He looks so peaceful, nothing like the man that was crazed by your pussy early. He’s still visibly dangerous, but fuck is he beautiful. 

I’m fucked, you think to yourself.

Tag list:

@corazondebeskar @hiddenbabynyc @rainstorms-library @smutsmutslut @sullyrocky44 

@keylimebeag @pimosworld @casa-boiardi @pedritoferg @paleidiot

@lorilane33 @pansexual-potatoes @jessthebaker @jasminedragoon @koshkaj-blog

@pedroswife69 @strawberri-blonde  @none-of-this-makes-any-sense @iloveenya

@javierpena-inatacvest @blazeflays @akah565 @pinkiec6-rubi @pedroshotwifey

@iluvurfather @ashleyfilm @mermaidgirl30 @untamedheart81 @littlevenicebitch69

[hufflepuffwritingstuff2]

Forced Vacation- Part 1

Hero collapsed on the couch, not even bothering to change out of their suit. They were just drifting off when they heard the latch to their window click, then the window opening. Hero groaned. They were so tired, why did they have to deal with a break-in?

They willed themselves to move; they opened their eyes and saw a shadow looming over them. Before they could react, something sharp pierced their thigh. Hero cried out, glaring up at Villain.

“What was that for!?”

“Shh, go back to sleep,” Villain whispered.

“I most certainly will not!” Hero shouted, “I- I… I...mm…”

Hero blinked in an effort to clear their blurry vision. Villain got off of them and started looking around Hero's apartment. Hero rolled off the couch and crashed to the floor with a thud.

“Villain!” Hero slurred, “get back here!”

“Which way to your bedroom?” Villain asked, ignoring them.

“I'm not telling you!”

“Fair enough, I'll find it myself, it's not like you live in a mansion… I should really fix that.”

Villain hummed to themselves while Hero pathetically crawled after them. Villain started going through Hero's dresser, pulling out various garments like- swimwear!?

“Did you just come here to steal my wardrobe?” Hero mumbled.

“Oh please,” Villain scoffed, “who would want these? I have half a mind to call the fashion police. Hm, we'll just pick you up some things along the way.”

Hero was finding it increasingly difficult to focus. Villain stalked over to them, crouching down to inspect them.

“You're not out yet?” Villain asked, tilting their head.

“No,” Hero bit out, “I'm…not…”

Hero's eyes fluttered shut as they collapsed on their side. They distantly felt Villain scoop them up in a bridal carry, then there was nothing.

…

Hero stirred to a pressure in their ears. Their eyelids slowly lifted and they saw Villain sitting opposite them, reading a book.

“Morning,” Villain drawled, turning a page, “or afternoon. I don't keep track of the time zones up here.”

Up here? Hero ‘s head swiveled to the side. They looked out a small, round window and saw fluffy white clouds and a blue sky. Their eyes went wide. They turned back to Villain, and sprang to their feet. Well, they tried to, but something kept them in place.

“That's for your own safety,” Villain said, gesturing vaguely to the various straps pulled taut across Hero's body, “and my peace of mind.”

“Safety!? A seatbelt is safety, Villain! This is- what even is all this!? Why am I on a plane, why am I strapped down, why did you kidnap me!?”

Villain snapped their fingers, and a henchman brought over a glass of water with a straw. They held it to Hero's lips. Hero then realized how dry their mouth was, and reluctantly drank against their better judgment.

“That's drugged,” Villain said nonchalantly.

Hero froze, having already swallowed most of the water. Villain finally looked up from their book and laughed.

“Oh, your face~,” Villain cackled, “too cute! It's just spring water, Hero, with a little bit of lemon.”

Hero visibly relaxed.

“As for your other questions,” Villain continued, “I know you, Hero, and I know when you're overdoing it. As such, I've decided its in your best interest as my nemesis to arrange a vacation for you; well, for both of us, but mostly you. We're going to a tropical island far away from any cities , criminals, or corrupt justice systems.”

“Villain!” Hero protested.

“Hero!” Villain replied with a smirk.

“I can't go on vacation! I have way too much to do! I-” Hero struggled some more in the restraints “-Let me out!”

“Those are there to make sure you don't try anything reckless,” Villain stated, “so calm down, and enjoy the flight.”

A henchman pushed a button, and a TV lowered down from the ceiling. They put a remote control in Hero's hand, then nodded to Villain.

“You will let me know if you get motion sickness, won't you?” Villain asked, picking their book up again.

“UGH!”

...

When they landed, Villain set their book down and reached in their belt pocket for something. They produced another syringe.

“Oh come on!” Hero whined.

“It's not that bad,” Villain argued, “just a small pinch, look-"

Villain injected the contents into Hero's leg. Hero stifled a yelp. Two henchmen came and unstrapped Hero from their seat. Hero immediately stood, only to lurch forward. Villain caught them easily.

“Falling for me? You flatter me,” Villain teased.

“Get off,” Hero said, “I appreciate the concern, but you can't just kidnap people whenever you feel like it!”

“Of course I can, I'm doing it right now, aren't I?”

Villain lifted Hero up into their arms, walking them off the plane. Hero fought to stay awake. Villain deposited them in a luxury car, climbing in next to them. Hero dozed off a moment later.

Part 2

Patreon

Ko-Fi

Redbubble

Tags:

@mythixmagic @infinityshadows @fishtale88 @thelazywitchphotographer @the-beasts-have-arrived @princessofonwardsworld @surplus-of-sarcasm @memepsychowhowantsuperpower-blog

@electrons2006

[cillianmesoftlyyy]

I Can Fix That... | Dr. Jonathan Crane x fem!reader

Summary| She's the detective assigned to investigate one of Gotham's top villains, Falcone, but as she follows her leads, she uncovers a new suspect: Dr. Jonathan Crane. His charisma and good looks won't stand in the way of justice, or at least that's what she thinks.

Warnings| Mentions of self-harm in the beginning in accordance to the movie (Batman Begins 2005). Not explicitly discussed but implied sexist and misogynistic work environment. Some archaic language when discussing psychiatric hospitals bc I tried to follow the language that the movie used. Violence with needles, drugging someone. Gun is mentioned but not used. Knife is mentioned a lot but never used to inflict pain. Smut, dubious consent, unprotected sex, restraints.

word count: 6757k (long-ass story bc I didn't want to make separate posts)

Song for a Guilty Sadist- Crywank 🎶

Butch 4 Butch- Rio Romeo 🎵

IFHY (feat. Pharrell)- Tyler, The Creator 🎶

Please read warnings before continuing, thanks <3

i 

She had been following him for weeks, stealing into the shadows at every turn as Jonathan Crane walked through Gotham City’s Police Station. She’d been suspicious of him for months and with the men in the police force finally working up the nerve to investigate Gothem’s leading henchman, Falcone, she’d uncovered a theory that pointed simultaneously at the notorious psychiatrist. Of course, the men in her force had refused to believe her, reminding her of Crane’s long history with the department and work to establish Gothem’s Psychiatric Hospital for the Criminally Insane: Arkham Asylum. But the real reason why Crane had never been investigated was because of his status in the department of justice, and it didn’t hurt that the man was charismatic. He knew how to work the system to get what he wanted. 

Jonathan Crane had a reputation of declaring criminals insane after mere minutes of deliberation, especially those who happened to work with or for Falcone. She’d been in charge of carrying out Falcone’s case and taking him to trial as a detective for the prosecution. After being put in jail, Falcone had managed to slash his wrists just enough to draw attention and a little bit of blood. He was immediately flagged for psychiatric evaluation, bringing Jonathan Crane once again into the basement interrogation rooms to administer an interview. When he clamored down the steps onto the basement floor, she was waiting for him by the door into Falcone’s interrogation room.  

“Dr. Crane,” she greeted him with a smile, drawing every ounce of her long lost theater-kid days into play. 

“Miss —,” he remembered her name and shook her hand with a serious glint in his blue eyes, covered by harsh rectangular glasses. His handshake was firm and strong, and he made eye contact that still shook her even after speaking with him so many times before. She didn’t let it show, however, and nodded towards the door. 

“He cut his wrists last night during the changing of the guard but we don’t know how he even got access to the weapon that he used; and I’ve spoken with him numerous time since we processed him and he’s never given me any reason to suspect that he was mentally unstable, but of course, you are the professional. It’s better that he be evaluated anyway-”

“In case anything were to happen,” he finished for me and clenched his jaw. He gave a curt nod of his head and went inside, shutting the door behind him and drawing the blinds on the door closed. She scoffed quietly beneath her breath and clenched her fists. Don’t be fooled by his good looks or superior smile, she told herself, Jonathan Crane was capable of things that she didn’t know of yet. He was not someone to admire, he was someone to distrust. 

After only ten minutes of quiet murmuring, she could hear clear and blood curdling screams through the door. She knocked on the door, “Dr. Crane?” She called through the door but it opened in her face before she could do anything. He stood in the doorway, his dark hair falling into his pale, angular face. 

“He’s definitely what I would classify as mentally unstable,” he chuckled calmly as he side-stepped her and closed the door. He ran a hand through his hair and fixed the glasses perched on his nose. “I can’t treat him here, I’ll need to move him to Arkham.” 

“Are you sure?” She asked, more surprised than anything. He had started to walk down the hallway to the stairs when he turned around, stopping right in front of her face, his breath fanned across her face. 

“Are you questioning my diagnosis, detective?” He smirked, an underlying tone of warning below his wide-lipped smile. His blue eyes were unwavering as he studied her face, she swallowed to steady herself. 

“No, sir. Of course not.” She apologized and crossed her arms across her chest, ducking her head nervously. When she looked back up, his eyebrow was cocked. 

“Do I make you nervous, detective?” He smiled and she could tell he was setting a trap, attempting to make himself more likable, more trusting. As if he could be anything of the sort. She laughed lightly and met his eyes, holding his eye-contact defiantly. 

“No, sir.” She answered and he nodded. 

“Good day, Miss —.” He called with his back turned, walking to the stairs and climbing them quickly. She watched him leave and finally released a sigh of relief. There was something about him that unsettled her, but it was something that also attracted her with a devious strength, ripping factual and independent reasoning from her head. 

She had started following him when one of Falcone’s men had been moved to Arkham two weeks before. She switched her assignment for the day to escort the man to Arkham, getting a chance to see the asylum for herself. It was a large gothic building with a modern facade in the center of Gotham. The attendants at the door led the prisoner (or patient now) through the heavily guarded door into the hospital’s main ward that was closed to visitors. Even police or other officials had to obtain a special license that granted them clearance into the institution. The second time she’d stepped inside, she was following a few yards behind Crane, studying how he actually entered the building. They had a separate entrance for the asylum’s psychiatrists at the side of the building by the alley. She waited a few minutes for Crane to enter the building before she approached the guard stationed at the door and flashed her badge. He’d allowed her in but warned that he’d lose his job if he did it again. The next time she followed him, she would need a new method of entering the building, one that didn’t alert Crane that she was in the building in case he got suspicious. When she entered it was easier to blend in so she followed the maze of hallways until she reached a small hub with arrows guiding attendants to the different wards of the hospital. Dr. Crane’s office was included in the psychiatrist ward (funny they had their own ward). 

The psychiatrists each had their own labs, whether or not they used them was their own business, but she knew for sure that Crane used his but for what, she didn’t know. Walking down the hallway to his office, she peeked inside the wide panel of glass into his lab. He had one assistant who was copying his notes into a binder for Crane but quickly left when Crane shooed him away from the set of beakers and vials of powders he was working with. She flattened herself against the wall and pretended to answer a call on her phone as the assistant passed her in the hallway. She hurried to leave the institute, leaving through the same door she entered, thanking the security guard discreetly. 

This time as she watched Crane climb the stairs, she pulled aside a police officer and explained Falcone’s transfer. The officer nodded and left to initiate the transfer to Arkham, Falcone’s hysterical screams still audible through the thick steel door. Crane tugged at the starched collar of his shirt as he crossed the lobby of the police station, sighing in relief. Falcone had tried to corner him. Him! Falcone may have been powerful but he was stupid and Crane didn’t have patience for stupidity especially from someone who was supposed to be a criminal mastermind. News flash: he wasn’t. Falcone was sloppy and arrogant, he didn’t take his own threats seriously. He’d threatened to tell the police about Crane’s experimental drug concoctions but in reality, he still didn’t know the full extent of what Crane was planning to do to Gotham. 

“You don’t know anything,” Crane said pointedly, tired of Falcone’s attitude. 

“I know that half of the drugs we moved belong to you and the police still don’t know what they are or what they can do.” Falcone scratched his greasy nose. Crane almost laughed. He removed his glasses and sighed, reaching into his open briefcase. 

As soon as the words, “would you like to see my mask,” left his mouth, Falcone was done for. The only thing that had inspired a shred of panic for Crane was hearing the girl’s voice through the steel door, calling his name. He expected her to open the door and see his mask, and while he had an explanation that a normal officer would believe, he knew that she was different. He didn’t trust her but something about her made him laugh. She was good looking and smart but too invested in his work and he didn’t like that. He’d have to keep an eye on the young detective, Miss —. In fact, he’d like to strap her down… hide her away in his asylum and play with her head like he did with his other playthings - - - oops - - - patients. Same thing.

ii 

She pretended that her plan was straightforward, it was the only way that she could convince herself to go through with it. No one else in her department would have had the balls to sneak into the asylum where once you went in, you may not be able to leave, that is- if Dr. Crane diagnosed you accordingly. She left a note on her desk in her office, explaining where she was going and the evidence she had already collected. Photos, “destroyed” medical records, and recent missing shipments from cargo ships including one micro-wave machine meant for warfare. She made copies of everything and hid them away in a special box directed to the only person she really trusted in her department, Sgt. Gordon. Even if someone dumped the notes on her desk, Sgt. Gordon would find the box of evidence, she knew. Falcone had been transferred the day before and was nearing his second night in the institution, now was her time to investigate what he was planning to do to him and why. 

She stashed a small knife at her thigh, having learned that a woman had to carry multiple weapons in this city if she wanted to protect herself, which unfortunately, happened often. She checked her weapon and put it in her holster at the small of her back. She was wearing a gray quarter length top tucked into a black skirt. She pulled on her straight black leather coat and closed the door to her office, locking the door. She knew that Crane would be in his office, he almost never went home, and with Falcone there and at risk to disclose sensitive information, he would be sure to stay close by. 

The sun had already set hours before when she approached Arkham Asylum. Each window was bright with light but it didn’t make the building any more welcoming. She shivered as she approached the side door, seeing a different security guard at the door. He stood when she approached, not recognizing her.  

“Stand down, officer. I’m detective — on police business,” she showed him her badge.

“You’ll have to check in at the front, detective.” The officer sat back down with a nod. 

“My business here is strictly confidential; Dr. Crane said I could enter in this way.” She pointed at the side door and the officer looked nervously at her. He reached for his walkie-talkie. 

“I’m here about Falcone. I am the detective assigned to his case, he was transferred here two days ago. I’m supposed to meet with Dr. Crane about some of the things Falcone has said during his initial treatment. Because of the sensitivity of Falcone’s case in the department, as I’m sure you know, the department has asked that we keep this confidential. No one inside can know that I was here to meet about Falcone. We haven’t told the public yet that he’s been transferred here. Your compliance is necessary for this.” She lied out of her ass but the officer nodded slowly when she finished, his eyes widening at the mention of Falcone’s name. 

“Oh, of course. I’m sorry for delaying you. It’s just business.” 

“I understand completely, thank you officer.” She smiled kindly as the officer scanned her in. Once she was inside she hid her police badge and followed the path she had scouted days before, following the black arrows to the psychiatrist ward (again, funny that they had their own ward- almost as if they were patients themselves). Her black mary janes squeaked quietly as she finally turned onto the hallway where Dr. Crane’s office was located. A row of fluorescent bulbs flickered ominously and she rolled her eyes, silently cursing the asylum for its additional eeriness. His lab was empty and dark and his office was empty though the lights were still on. An assistant passed her, coming from a different lab with a pile of boxes in her arms. 

“Excuse me, do you know where Dr. Crane is right now?” She asked the assistant who shuffled the boxes in her arms to answer. 

“I saw him in the ward with the new transfer patients just before I picked these up, so he’s probably about to start a sit-down with a patient. Do you have an appointment with him?” She asked curiously, knowing it was too late for a business meeting. 

“No, I work in the office and I was going to request a few files to finish a transfer of a patient but it seems that he’s busy. I’ll try tomorrow morning. Thank you!” She smiled and the assistant nodded. 

“Have a nice night,” the assistant hurried off down the corridor into the hub. She wasted no time in checking the door to Crane’s office which was miraculously unlocked. She hurried inside and closed the door, making sure that she left everything as she had found it. The door to the lab was located inside Crane’s office, so she entered the lab through the office. The blinds were closed to the outside so she opened the flashlight on her phone and scanned the dark lab tables for the powders she had seen before. The room smelled heavily of chemicals and cleaning solution and it was hard to breathe normally already because she was nervous. The first table was empty of anything but the second was set up for what looked to be his next round of testing. A box that looked like a closed mouse trap was set up on the table. There was a single switch on the top of the box which she knew better than to turn but she examined it nonetheless, hoping to see what it may contain. A tray of petri dishes full of powder sat beside it. Each was marked with a different series of numbers and letters, denoting their different status, she assumed. She recognized the series on one of the dishes: F7jw009. The number had appeared on the list of drugs recovered from Falcone’s drug transport. It was one that hadn’t yet been tested to see what it was composed of. She didn’t recognize the two other dishes but she assumed the powder and the mousetrap device were used for the same thing.

There was a small bookcase attached to the base of the lab table and she crouched, scanning the spines. The books on the top, free of dust, were on phobias. A bound scientific paper on the chemical structure of fear sat on top of the textbooks. She picked it up and flipped through the pages, noticing strokes of pen and notes on many of the pages. In the centerfold of the paper, she saw a picture of a cartoon scarecrow, one from a halloween decoration. It looked like it had been ripped from a kid’s storybook. She stared at the picture, struggling to place where she had heard about a scarecrow before in the precinct… she flipped farther through the pages and landed on a second photo shoved between the pages. It was a drawing of a mask made of burlap. The mask resembled a scarecrow’s face, she furrowed her eyebrows, more uneasy. Finally, she flipped to the very end where she found a clear note detailing what Crane thought the synopsis of the paper had been: 

Fear can be constructed using a series of complex compounds and put into an admissible form. They have already invented serums that temporarily remove the presence of fear by blocking certain receptors in the brain that receive signals of distress or pain. By doing the very opposite, temporarily numbing the receptors that calm the nervous system when danger has been averted, fight or flight is heightened and the human mind is more susceptible to the suggestion of danger and terror. Fear merely needs to be suggested to elicit a response after the brain is prepped for the reaction. Fear can be weaponized. Building the compounds of fear into a powder, the drug can be administered immediately into the air and receive a simultaneous reaction. Pills? Water? How can we distribute this powder? What is the easiest way to administer fear to the entire population? 

iii 

The distinct click of a door opening and closing shocked her back to attention. She put the bound paper back onto the shelf and switched off the light on her phone. In the dark she scrambled into a hidden alcove inside the lab behind one of the hooded chemical boxes. She was pretty sure that the lab’s closet would be shared with the lab next door but she couldn’t remember which side of the room it was on. Dr. Crane had gone into his office and removed his suit jacket. He was too excited by Falcone’s reaction to his fear serum in powder form and he needed to get a handle on himself. It was nearly midnight when he checked his watch. Most of his colleagues would be gone by now, just the night staff remained to look after the patients. Night was the perfect time to work undisturbed in his lab, especially because his assistant couldn’t know the full extent of his research into the chemical compounds of human fear. He slipped his coat over the back of his desk chair and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows. 

He exhaled slowly and removed a stack of papers from his desk, flipping through them as he opened the door into his lab and kicked the door closed with the heel of his shoe. His elbow flicked on the lightswitch and he spread out the papers on the first lab table, seemingly absorbed by the chemical structures his assistant had prepared for him to review. He scribbled a note in red pen on the corner of the document, berating his assistant for his obvious mistake with one of the compound structures. What was this? High school chemistry class? He licked his thumb and turned the page, writing another note in the margin. 

“I know you’re here, Miss —.” He smiled, not looking up from his notes. He tossed the first set of pages further down the table and moved to the next one. “You and your perfume… I can always tell where you’ve been by your scent. I don’t think you’re naive enough to wear perfume in your field, especially when on your little jaunts into other people’s business. So, the lovely smell is from your shampoo, I venture. You use an expensive brand of shampoo because you think that your hair is your best attribute, and I agree, it's one of the best. Your job makes you feel dirty too, doesn’t it? This city makes you feel dirty and so you wash your hair every night with the same sulfate-free shampoo to get the smell of our city out of your system. Your shampoo smells like mint and you like it the best because it makes your head feel cleaner, tingly,” he laughed and moved to the next stack of stapled papers. “And that’s why you chose this job, a detective, because you feel like you’re cleaning up our streets; removing all of the bad blood of Gotham but it’s been a disappointment to say the least. The system is backwards, though you knew that from the beginning, you thought you could fix it. You want things to be right and I don’t blame you, so do I.” 

Dr. Crane finished writing a note on the last paper and capped the pen. He circled the table once before moving to the second table. 

“I’m cleaning the city in my own way, I guess you could say. This city needs a restart button, a way to begin everything again and start fresh. Fear can do that, fear can be controlled and it controls.” 

She could barely breathe, her back was pressed against the wall of his lab. She was scared and she knew that he knew. Fear was his thing, his kink and she anticipated the absolute worst as she waited out her fate, wondering how long it would take for him to find her or if she could manage to escape. 

“This machine can diffuse the compounded form of fear. I’ve used it on most of your suspects, all of them Faclone’s men. I even used it on Falcone himself. Oh, I wish you could have seen his face! The second the powder entered his system he abandoned the arrogant criminal persona, he reverted back to who he was at his very core. He was suddenly controllable and easy to manage. So you see how this could be used to clean up Gotham. It’s a way to seize back control of our city, take it away from the people who run it now; the sycophants and billionaires.” 

Crane pulled a needle from the drawer at his hip and flicked the glass tube. Her chest rose and fell in a state of panic. Dr. Crane leaned against the counter calmly. 

“That’s why you like me. I’m clean. I’m orderly and smart. I’m the opposite of the criminal justice system that reminds you of this dirty city. And, Y/N, that’s why I like you.”

She tensed at his use of her first name. She’d never heard him use it before and it sent a chill down her spine. She reached for her gun. Dr. Crane rounded the corner and stabbed the needle into her neck, pushing the tranquilizer into her bloodstream. She wobbled before slumping back against the wall. She managed to push past him and run for the office door but the drugs worked almost immediately and her legs began to go numb. She couldn’t feel anything below her waist and she worried that he would break her legs running without being able to feel which bones she was using to get away. She collapsed on the floor of the lab and looked up at Dr. Crane who smiled down at her, his hair disheveled. 

“Don’t be embarrassed,” he cooed and crouched at her feet, “I applaud you for your efforts. You may have succeeded had I not recognized the smell of your shampoo. I know you’ve been here before. You’re a smart girl but I won this game, and the victor gets the spoils. That’s how it works, Miss —.” He crawled over her and pulled the needle from her neck. She didn’t even feel it. Her hair that he loved so much was fanned out on the floor, falling in loose curls. He twirled a curl between his fingers and nodded approvingly. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll treat you with the utmost respect. Afterall, you are my colleague, of sorts,” he shrugged and stood up, straddling her. “It’s a pity that you became a detective. You would have done well in this bloodthirsty field because,” he disappeared for a moment and returned with a set of keys which he slipped into his front pocket, “you’re like me.” 

He pulled her up and put one of her arms around his shoulder, supporting the brunt of her weight that way. Though he was small and lanky, he was muscular and strong. He dragged her through the door in his lab that connected to a separate room that she hadn’t even noticed. He flipped the light switch with his elbow and sighed with pleasure when the room was lit up with light. 

“Here it is. This is where the real fun happens, Y/N. This is where I test my new treatments on our most psychotic patients. Falcone will be here soon, perhaps tomorrow once you and I finish our discussion.” The room was smaller than the lab and housed what looked like a mortuary slab. She tried to scream but her mouth was numb. He dragged her to the table and lifted her onto the flat surface. The numerous straps he buckled around her waist, her wrists, and her feet. When she was secured onto his table, he pushed a peddle at his foot which titled the table forward, propping her more upright. 

“Ah, and now I can finally see you,” Dr. Crane smiled and moved her hair so that it was caught behind her back. He straightened her hair against her chest, running his fingers through the strands. He moved a stool in front of the table and sat on it, his legs spread and his arms across against his chest. “Do I make you nervous now, detective?” He smirked and chuckled darkly when she couldn’t respond. “It will wear off soon. It’s one of those doses that act quickly but then wear off just as quickly. I wouldn’t do anything to you while you were in this state. What kind of man would I be if I did that?” 

He watched her for a few minutes, his bright blue eyes trailing up and down her body. She knew what that look meant from men. Her gun was so close and yet she knew she wouldn't be able to reach it even when she regained control over her body. While he waited, he arranged numerous tools and vials around the room, humming softly to himself. She could feel herself starting to get feeling back in her stomach as the blood recirculated from her heart. Her hands and her feet took the longest to twitch awake. She dropped her head from left to right, groaning in the absence of words. Dr. Crane came back and checked her pulse, pinching her wrist and counting the seconds on his watch. 

“Good girl, you’re coming back. Can you speak yet?” He supported her chin with his hand and when she didn’t answer he nodded. “That’s all right. You’re all right.” He soothed her and she couldn’t help but relax as his eyes checked over her. “Now, Miss —, where are your weapons?” He posed the question theoretically and touched her, she flinched beneath his hands. He felt around her waist and inside her jacket. “There aren’t many places to hide it.” He whispered and wrapped his hands around her waist, finding the gun at the small of her back. “Ah, here it is.” He smiled as he took the gun from its holster and tossed it onto a small lab table. “You have something else, don’t you. You’re smart so of course, you have a second weapon.”  He licked his lips, thinking but it didn’t take him long to trail his hands up her thighs, glancing up into her eyes as he did. Her skirt rose as he felt below it and soon, his fingers were on top of the knife’s handle. 

“What do we have here?” He lifted her skirt, showing the knife’s hiding place at the top of her thigh. “This is honestly almost funny so forgive me if I laugh.” He ripped the knife from the holster and she cried out as much as she could, terrified by his quick movement. He let her skirt fall back into place and twirled the knife in his hand, examining the small blade. “You’ve just made my night so much more interesting, Miss —.” He smirked darkly. 

iv 

She finally regained her ability to speak though her words were jumbled and hard to get out around her tongue.

“Use your words, honey.” Dr. Crane frowned frustratedly. 

“Please…” she managed, “don’t… hurt… me.” She pushed the words out and he listened carefully. 

“Oh but it’s so hard to resist when you so willingly came here and with your own weapons. Can you see how this might be hard for me?” He furrowed his brow as he spoke and she couldn’t tell what was sarcasm and what was real. 

“It was nothing personal… I had a job to do.” She whispered weakly and he cocked his head, his lips parted. 

“You know it's funny because Falcone’s men all said the same thing. I know you didn’t work with them… but I can make it look like you did.” He whispered close to her face and her chest clenched with fear. “I can do whatever I want, do you understand? I have the power to say that you checked yourself in and I evaluated you. I found you on the verge of a psychotic breakdown because we all know you were already prone to hysterics. But your office shouldn’t worry because I’ll be your psychiatrist. And so what if you happen to disappear- go missing? No one comes in here, except for you, and that was stupid.” 

“You might die tonight, detective. I’m sorry to say it because you are one of the most attractive women I have met in Gotham and I fear that you have ruined our chances of continuing this to a second date.” He studied the curvature of her clavicle as it dipped above her sternum. Not knowing what else to do, she kissed him. Dr. Crane stiffened as her lips met his. He pulled away, stopping short a few inches from her mouth.

“What are you doing?” He raised his eyebrow. 

“If I’m going to die, I might as well make the most of it,” she shrugged and kissed him again, her head leaning as far forward as she could reach. She hoped that she sounded truthful enough. He pulled away again and stared at her, his forehead creased as he watched her. She panted softly, straining against her restraints. Her cheeks were flushed and her chest had broken out into hives from the stress. Fear made her even more beautiful. Going against his better judgment, he leaned forward into her and kissed her hesitantly. Slowly, he began to kiss her more aggressively, his tongue dragging against the roof of her mouth before he captured her top lip in a deep kiss. Her hands instinctively went to reach for his hair but they snapped back against the table. He broke away, panting, and took a few steps back, resting his back against the wall. 

“I don’t trust you,” he put his hands on his hips, still holding the knife. 

“What can I do, Jonathan?” She tried using his first name and he raised an eyebrow again, “I can’t move, no one can hear me scream, you’re going to kill me… what reason is there left to trust me? So, either kiss me or go ahead and kill me.” She nearly cried, overwhelmed and terrified. Her plan had been to seduce him, to use most men’s fatal flaw against him, but she worried that it wouldn’t work with Dr. Jonathan Crane. In a way, she had planned for this. The evidence was back in her office waiting to be discovered. She hadn’t gotten a chance to take pictures of the lab but maybe depending on how far he went with this, she could get away. But God, even though she was terrified and held on a slab against her will, he was beautiful. He was looking at her with his aquamarine eyes, his black hair gelled and falling around his face. Even his glasses looked perfect on his face. 

“Jonathan…” she started with a shakily voice, “despite why I came today and what you’ve told me about what you want to do to Gotham, right now, more than anything, I want you to come here and kiss me because while I may hate you and you may be the cause of my death, I want you. Give me some comfort if you’re going to take everything away from me.” 

“Freud would have some things to say about you, Y/N.” He pushed his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose and studied the edge of the knife. “Your psychology is so interesting,” he flicked his eyes up to her’s and set the knife down on the table. “To study you…” he trailed off as he loosened his tie and ripped it from his neck. He approached her, standing far enough away that she couldn’t reach him with her mouth. She exhaled, waiting. “I almost studied anatomy,” he pushed a hand against her navel, holding her even more in place. 

“Why didn’t you?” She whispered. 

“I loved the human mind too much to abandon it,” he smiled and drew a hand up her thigh. Her muscles spasmed beneath his hand. He leaned in against her ear, “I know you’re scared of me,” he whispered calmly, “and isn’t that incredible? That you can be so afraid of something that you want so much?” His hand pulled down her underwear and it stretched between her open thighs, held apart by the restraints. His hand went further still, gently tracing the folds of her labia. She knew that she was wet and it embarrassed her, though she knew it helped confirm her story that she wanted him, he didn’t seem to care either way. His thumb rubbed her clit as he slowly inserted his middle finger into her, pushing past the initial resistance. She always hated fingering because it didn’t feel like how people pretended it did. That being said, she sighed as he gently inserted a second finger and pulled against the top of her cunt, fingering her slowly. 

“The body holds fear because our bodies hold memories,” he explained as he pressed her clit harder. “I can find what really scares you and I can fix it.” 

“I’m scared of you,” she whispered, her breath escaping in a sharp pant. 

“I can fix that.” 

He pulled his fingers out of her and held her neck still against the table as he kissed her. The sense of urgency to fight and escape melted into an afterthought when the back of his hand slid slowly down one side of her neck, making the tendons flex. He held her neck still as he kissed down to her collarbones, licking their shelves and tracing the bone with his tongue. His free hand groped her breast over her tight shirt and then surrounded her waist. She started shifting her hips back and forth, wishing that she had something between them to relieve the pressure she felt. He smiled against her skin and clicked his tongue, pulling away from her. He pressed the pedal again with his foot and the table reclined once again as it had been. He climbed onto the table and sat above her on his knees, looking down at her as she panted. 

“Look at me,” he told her and made sure that her eyes met his. “I have no plans to kill you tonight and I know this act is solely for the benefit of your own survival. But knowing that I will not kill you, would you like to change your mind?” He put both hands around her waist, showing the pale flesh of his forearms. She tried to weigh her options, she tried to think clearly but it all felt like a dream. It didn’t feel real enough to have consequences, so she shook her head and licked her lips quickly.

“No, keep going.” She whispered, “please.” Dr. Crane chuckled lightly and trailed his fingers down to her ankles. 

“In that case, would you like to see my mask?” He smiled darkly, teasing her. 

“No, I want to see your face.” She answered calmly and he nodded. 

“Fine.” He removed the restraints around her ankles. He took the knife from the table and cut away her underwear with one strong swipe of the blade. She gasped and he smirked, “I’m a doctor, remember? I know how to use a knife, detective.” 

He put the knife aside and pulled her knees up, sitting between them. He unbuckled his pants and withdrew his erection, glistening with precum. He guided himself into her with his hand, his eyes never leaving her face. She gasped again as he entered her. He rocked his hips slowly back and forth and groaned, watching her mouth open in a silent moan. She raised her knees higher, closer to her chest, giving him a better angle at which to fuck her. His hands pressed against her stomach and his thrusts became faster as his body began to learn hers. 

“You’re getting wetter,” he observed with a sly smile, “I must be doing something right.” He teased her as he started to rub her clit with his thumb, the rest of his hand pressed against her uterus. She couldn’t even speak. It had been months since she’d last had sex and even then, it wasn’t good sex. “I’m going to go harder but you can take it,” he told her matter of factly and placed either hand by her hips on the table. Leaning forward he shifted his hips slowly but harder, going deeper without much care for how her body adapted to the thrusts. “There you go,” he grunted as his hips bucked rhythmically into hers. She cried out, her body sliding up and down against the table, hot with her perspiration. Holding onto the top of the table, he moved farther up, pushing more inside of her, and started thrusting fast. He was suddenly in so deep and only backing away a few inches before snapping back in. Her hips bounced off of his and she gripped the excess material around her wrists to help her stay stationary. 

“Slow… God, please! Slow down… its so much, fuck.” She whimpered and smiled down at her face, flushed and angry with red. He slowed his hips, squeezing his glutes together whenever he thrusted inside. He leaned down and kissed her slowly, still rocking in and out of her. Her body shuttered from the high and started to build a more even climax. She hummed against his lips, her voicing getting higher as she started to orgasm. 

“And here comes the orgasm,” Jonathan smiled and sped up slightly, leaving hickies up and down her neck. She orgasmed with a shuttering cry that she couldn’t cover with her hand, but he didn’t let her finish there. “Fuck, you got so tight again.” He groaned as she panted, her system overwhelmed with waves of pleasure and exertion. She started to tighten further around him as her thighs squeezed his hips. Her breath left her lungs in short pants and she moaned beneath him like a pitiful creature. “Are you cumming again?” He laughed and stroked her cheek. She nodded weakly and he kissed her again briefly. 

“Its so tight, fuck. I won’t last much longer like this.” He took her hips in his hands and started a steady rhythm, pulling her hips onto his cock and thrusting at the same time. She came around him and he groaned animalistically, his thrusts becoming more sporadic and needy. He watched her breasts bounce inside her shirt and how he slid in and out of her, her cum collecting at the base of his shaft. Finishing with fast, desperate movements, he moaned loudly. She felt him finish inside her and it felt almost better than if she had finished herself. He pulled down her bottom lip with his thumb and admired her fucked-out face. Her pupils were shot and she shook slightly from the high. Finally, he pulled out and stuffed himself back into his pants. He sighed as he straightened his clothes and ran a hand through his hair. He took the gun and the knife and stuffed them both into a drawer and locked it with a set of keys from his pocket. They stared at each other for a while until Jonathan broke the silence, clearing his throat. 

“You’re coming home with me tonight, Miss —. We’ll decide what to do with you later.” 

[elm-writes-stories]

Cuphead: Isle of Shadows (Rewrite)

*Hey everyone, I'm back with another episode for the rewrite of Cuphead: Isle of Shadows. This is published on August 7, 2023. If you guys like this episode, don't be afraid to heart, reblog, and comment! That would be greatly appreciated. Warning: blood, violence, gore, and slight cursing. Enjoy!*

Episode Nine: Take A Gamble

On the east side of Inkwell Isle City, Bowlboy lingered through the abandoned side.

He had been on the run from the Night Stalkers since he got back from injecting Mugman with…whatever that stuff was. He never wanted to hurt either Mugman or Cuphead, but he wanted to be a part of them…doing reckless things with them. Of course, he wasn’t liked by the brothers.

Bowlboy tried to find a place to hide, but he soon realized that there was no place to hide. As he was walking through the abandoned side of the city, he felt a paper under his feet. He picked it up and dusted the soot off, squinting to read the headlines and the picture of the red cat turning the wheel.

“Tremaine Outbreak! Are the red cats responsible for it?”

Bowlboy tilted his head in confusion. He heard someone lurking in the shadows behind him as he whirled around. He scanned his surroundings until he saw a hooded figure running towards him.

Bowlboy screamed and ran away from the figure deeper into the east side of the city. The hooded figure chased after him.

“Wait!”

Bowlboy didn’t listen as he tripped on the metal pipe and collapsed on the cracked cement. He groaned in pain and noticed the hooded figure approaching him.

“Don’t kill me, please!” Bowlboy cried innocently. “I don’t want to die!”

“I ain’t gonna kill ya,” the hooded figure said while raising his white gloves. “I just need answers.”

“A-Answers? For what? Who are you?” Bowlboy questioned fearfully.

The hooded figure took off his hood to reveal King Dice under the hood. Before Bowlboy could gasp in happiness, King Dice shushed him.

“Look, I’m going against the boss by doing this. But this was for his best interest. I need answers from you,” Dice said. “Did Hunter really tell you to go after Mugman?”

Bowlboy nodded his head.

“Are you sure he told you that?”

“Yeah, I have it right here,” Bowlboy said while pulling out a tape-recorder from behind him and pressing play.

“Put this inside of Mugman. Not Cuphead. Mugman.”

Dice blinked in confusion. “I knew we weren’t talking about the same person the other day. Hunter has been acting strange lately. I tried telling the boss…but he ain’t listenin’ to me. He liked Hunter way too much to the point where Hunter became Devil’s number one.”

Bowlboy blinked in confusion. “Why do you care to be the Devil’s number one?”

Dice shifted his glance at the small bowl. “Because—Because—ugh, nevermind. It’s cheesy.”

“Aww, it can’t be that bad of a reasoning, right?” Bowlboy questioned.

“It’s none of your concern—” They heard a creak under them. Before they could move, the silver platform under them gave way and both Bowlboy and Dice fell into the hole underneath them with screams.

They couldn’t see temporarily while they tumbled down the slope and into the caverns until they finally landed onto the ground.

Dice groaned in pain and blinked his eyes open. “Ugh, w-what just happened. Where are we?”

Bowlboy shook his head and looked around. “Huh, I didn’t think there were caverns underneath the city.”

Dice looked around to notice glowing mushrooms around them that lit up their path straight-forward. “Caverns, huh? Strange…I wonder why no one knew about the caverns here.”

Bowlboy shrugged his shoulders.

Dice and Bowlboy moved forward through the caverns, their eyes scanning their surroundings.

“Maybe the way out of this place is that way,” Dice determined, pointing at the door ahead of them.

Dice opened the heavy door and pushed his way through, his eyes widened when he found out that they entered a bedroom of some sorts. The lights were on everywhere with pictures and posters all over the walls.

“Well, someone is a bit disorganized,” Dice said with a judgmental gaze around the room. “I mean, it looks filthy.”

Bowlboy looked over at the posters of dancing red cats dressed like demons and words that scared him to his core. “Someone has been making posters about the red cats.”

Dice glanced at the posters with confusion written on his face. “Wait a minute, what’s going on there?”

“There’s always been this hate against red cats for so long,” Bowlboy recalled.

“But why?” Dice questioned. “Like why just the red cats specifically? They could’ve made it more broad and said that all cats are from the Devil, but why the red cats?”

Dice found newspaper clippings and squinted to read it through the other papers.

“Red cats are responsible for the Tremaine outbreak?”

“What?” Dice questioned with a laugh. “Okay. Okay, what on earth is going on here?”

Dice looked at the other paper clipping with some sort of a graph with faded colors. He realized the paper had statistics number to show which species of cats to be more aggressive. Dice looked and saw that the red cats tend to be more aggressive than the rest of the cats. Hunter’s name was on the statistic.

“Since when did Hunter become a scientist?” Dice questioned with a brow raised. He looked at the date and blinked in surprise. “Wait, this was taken before the Tremaine outbreak fifteen years ago.”

“Do you think Hunter had been planning something that had to do with the red cats?”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it one bit,” Dice responded. “He already had you inject Mugman with Tremaine…but the question is…why? Why Mugman? Was it to get to Cuphead? Was it because of something completely different? He’s planning something. I don’t know what it is. But…he’s planning something.”

“Look!” Bowlboy picked up the strange device with darkened goggles and weird antennas forming out of silver cap where the goggles were attached.

Dice grabbed the device and put it on to look through the dark goggles. What he didn’t expect was the orange silhouettes that showed everyone infected with Tremaine. He took it off for a moment.

“What the—?” Dice couldn’t even get a sentence out. He found brown gloves with weird buttons on each hand and wires. He put those on out of curiosity and put the helmet back on to look through the goggles.

Dice had no idea what he was doing when he pushed a button, but when he pushed a button on his right hand, he heard someone collided against the wall. Dice tried to find who was it by pushing another button on his other hand to browse who made the sound. He gasped once he saw an orange silhouette of Beppi, weeping in the corner.

“Make it stop. Make it stop,” Beppi groaned in pain.

Dice felt his heart tug for a moment. He decided to test out whatever it was and pushed the same button on his right hand, causing Beppi to smashed his shoulder against the wall.

“STOP! PLEASE!!” Beppi cried while grabbing his head.

Dice blinked in confusion and noticed the option list down below at the corner. He managed to get there with some struggle and noticed one of the options were to go into Beppi’s head. Dice clicked on that with the button on his left hand and it took him into Beppi’s mind. Through the goggles, Dice could see Beppi being laughed at as a child while the little clown covered his ears.

“Make it stop. Make it stop!” the kid version of Beppi cried.

Too freaked out to continue, Dice shoved the helmet and the gloves off, breathing heavily from looking into someone’s mind.

“What is that thing?” Dice uttered. “D-Does it control people with Tremaine? Does it make their pain worse until they reached to their breaking point? What is going on here?”

Bowlboy found a VHS tape and looked to see television in front of them. “Hey, what’s that?”

Dice turned to see a black screen at the corner of the room. “Wait…what is that?”

Bowlboy found a VHS tape player and inserted the tape in. The television flickered on and it showed a black and white film reel.

“What the heck?” Dice uttered and watched the film reel that showed the black and white pictures.

~.~

Jack couldn’t believed he got the job at the infamous Mason Corporations.

Out of all of the jobs Jack applied for, only one shady corporation gave him the job. It wasn’t what he wanted, but it’ll pay the bills and take care of both his wife and his child. It offered more money than what he could imagine, so why not? Despite his small argument with Porkrind about why working at Mason Corporations seemed like a bad idea, Jack decided to take the opportunity.

Jack worked there as a scientist next to Murray, the cup with a small blue nose. The red cat and the cup scientists were excited to be each other’s coworkers until they started to work there.

There was a new chemical that they were supposed to enhance, which was called Tremaine. Hunter, their boss, told them that Tremaine was supposed to enhance military soldiers to fight, but that couldn’t be further from the truth when running experiments. Their first test subject was a small rat picked up from the sewers.

Jack injected Tremaine into the rat, thinking it would strengthen it or make it more mortal like everyone else. However Jack watched intensely as he could see red irises and yellow eyes in the rat. The rat screeched in pain and rattled in his cage.

Both Murray and Jack witnessed this and looked to see that the chemical improves. So, they went to talk to Hunter about it.

“Mr. Manson,” Jack began the conversation.

Hunter turned to look at Jack.

“We’re sorry to bother you, sir, but I don’t think this Tremaine you speak of is working,” Jack replied. “It doesn’t strengthen the test subject.”

“It causes the test subject to suffer within it, letting it become a monster,” Murray added.

Hunter cornered a smirk. “It’s supposed to do that.”

Murray and Jack looked at each other in confusion and then back at Hunter.

“Now, let’s move up a little, shall we? Let’s say…a person,” Hunter replied.

Murray and Jack blinked and nodded their heads obediently.

“Yes sir,” they both said.

Hunter gave them a nod and moved on to focus on his other projects.

“This isn’t what we signed up for,” Murray whispered to Jack.

“Quiet, Mr. Manson could hear you,” Jack warned his friend.

“We didn’t sign up to make people suffer,” Murray stated.

“M-Maybe Tremaine won’t have terrible effects on people.”

“Jack, did you not see what it did to that rat? Who knows what Tremaine is going to do to a person?” Murray pointed out to the red feline.

Jack bit his lips.

“Look, I know you got family to feed. So do I. But I don’t think doing this is a good idea for a job,” Murray replied. “And something’s up with that Manson guy. I don’t think…I don’t think he’s normal.”

“You realize that they got recordings everywhere, right?”

“I’m just sayin’.”

Jack sighed deeply. “We need to find out why Tremaine causes other people to suffer. What are the ingredients in it? Why does it cause people to suffer? We need to know.”

“I’m with you till the end,” Murray replied with determination. “As much as I don’t think this is a good idea to stay here to find out sensitive information, I’ll stick by ya.”

“What about you? It might be risky and it might get you killed—”

“I ain’t too worried about it,” Murray responded with a mischievous smile. “Let’s do it.”

For months working for Mason Corporations, Jack and Murray tried to find sensitive files in a secret file room they weren’t allowed to go in discreetly while working on the chemical. One day, they finally found a file that had the ingredients to Tremaine.

“Here we go,” Jack said while taking a deep breath. He opened the file and looked through the history of its usage. His eyes widened in shock and fear.

“What’s wrong?” Murray said while looking into the file. He scanned through it. “Ash…? Brimstone…? Demon’s blood…?” He blinked in confusion. “Wait, where does Hunter get those ingredients?”

“There’s only one place I know where he could get that stuff,” Jack uttered in pure disbelief. “I guess his ‘special’ scientists were sent down to the Underworld to collect the ingredients.”

“They would’ve been blown up by the Devil by now if that’s the case. No…Hunter must have brought something from the Underworld,” Murray responded. “But how?”

Unbeknownst to them, Hunter saw them looking through the file involving the ingredients of Tremaine. The tiger growled lowly and disappeared into the shadows.

Since Jack and Murray knew about the ingredients of Tremaine, they were trying to find a way to have the chemical not cause suffering among the test subjects. They tweaked the ingredients by excluding demon’s blood, ash, and brimstone and including the juice from an apple, water, and drops of human tears.

Murray would sometimes bring his baby son, Mugman, to work when no one else could watch him while his wife, Lily Rose, took his other son, Cuphead to her job. Baby Mugman would watch his father mixing the ingredients together in fascination, who was noticed by Hunter watching from outside of Murray and Jack’s lab.

Murray noticed Hunter eying on his baby and kept his son close with a small withering glare at Hunter. Since he noticed Hunter watching Mugman, Murray had an old friend who recently retired from the military that he could call and have him watch baby Mugman and baby Cuphead until either Lily or Murray could pick up their kids first.

Jack never took his daughter, Cassidy, to work mostly because it’s risky.

Other than through occasional worries of being spotted by Hunter and his ruthless employees and getting small amount of glares from people because of his species, Jack had been getting great pay to take care of Shayna and Cassidy for a couple of months until one day.

It was the first of the month of September when Jack came to work and stumbled into a room full of giant tubes of the original Tremaine. He witnessed the Tremaine being drained into the water pipelines on the east side of Inkwell Isle City.

Jack gasped in horror and hurried to find a way to stop Tremaine from getting drained further. He found the wheel valve turned and rushed towards to turn it back. A sudden flash interfered with his eyes. Temporarily blinded by the sudden flash, he kept turning the wheel, eventually saving little Tremaine left in the big tubes. However, Jack knew he was too late to save anyone at the east side of the city. 

~.~

The east side water pipelines had Tremaine flowing within, blending into the water. Most citizens drank the water from the sink without knowing it. Objects, humans, and animals alike turned feral and tore each others flesh like wild animals.

The blood marked the streets on the east side of the city. The bee police force were there, but has been torn to shreds when encountering them. It had gotten bloody on the east side of the city with the blood, intestines, hearts, lungs, and guts scattered across the cold black roads that Rumor Honeybottoms, the chief of the police force, stepped in with extra help in the form of the red genie, the three-headed dragon, the mad scientist on his robot, the huge carnivorous flower, and the red lady shape-shifting into a blimp.

The flower’s face contorted into a machine gun and fired bullets in the forms of seeds, planted onto the ground and grew weeds and plant-eaters to hold the attackers back.

The mother and her blonde child cowered back from the child’s father, his irises red and his eyeballs yellow.

“Papa, please! Don’t kill us!” The blonde-haired child cried. Before her father could kill both her and her mother, the golden arrow flew by her father and one of the small blue stars smacked him in the face. Soon, the child and her mother lifted onto the back of the cloudy centaur, firing arrows with the golden bow.

The centaur took them to someplace safe and placed them on the ground, shape-shifting into the red-dressed lady. The little girl looked up at her with adoring eyes.

“What’s your name, sweetie?” the lady asked with a soft smile.

“S-Sally,” the child replied.

“Hilda,” Hilda introduced herself with a bright smile.

“GET OFF!!!”

Hilda turned to the familiar voice belonging to the orange-petaled flower fighting against the ones infected with Tremaine.

Hilda looked at young Sally. “Get you and your mother safe. Hurry!”

Hilda flew up to the sky and grabbed the fluff of clouds to shape-shift into a bull with gold horns. She managed to ram into the infected and get them off of the flower.

“You know I can handle them, right?” The flower stated.

“Really? The famous Cagney Carnation seems to be in distress to me,” Hilda teased while transforming back to her normal self.

Cagney, the flower, slammed his hand down into the ground and stabbed the incoming infected person charging at Hilda with a deadpan stare at her. He smirked when Hilda seemed shock at the fact that he got the person without looking.

“And Ms. Hilda Berg needs to pay attention to her surroundings so that she doesn’t get herself killed,” Cagney teased back.

“Awww, always lookin’ out for me, eh, Cagney?” Hilda flirted with a blush.

“You know it,” Cagney flirted back with a blush on his face.

The red genie appeared in between them with a smirk. “As much as I love to listen to you two flirt, we got a much bigger problem. We need to know what’s causing the people to insane!”

The three-headed dragon landed and blew fire at those infected with Tremaine, protecting a single frog mother protecting two little frog boys.

The mad scientist controlling the robot shot laser yellow beams at the people attacking a young clown and a young girl with a candy cane in her mouth.

The young pirate was fighting the ones infected near the port on the shore. The young sea creature with purple hair of a dead octopus noticed the young pirate boy. With a gasp in shock, her eyes turned red and shot red beams towards the pirate boy. The pirate boy dodged it and watched the infectees turned to stone. Once he looked back, he saw the sea creature gasping at her being noticed and dove back into the water. He hurried over and saw her swimming away.

“Wow…” the pirate boy muttered in admiration.

The dark blue bird with the house on him swooped in and used his wing to get the remaining individuals who were not infected with Tremaine to get on the roof of his birdhouse such as a young brown rat, a young pirate, three young vegetables, and a young slime ball. He flew away with them to get to safety away from the dangerous side of the city.

Rumor Honeybottoms flew in and used her wand to lift up the concrete to find something flowing in the water system. “It’s coming from the water system! We need it to redirect it away from the city!”

The remaining bee cops nodded their heads and hurried to redirect the water into the sewers so that it would never reach to the city again.

The water that had Tremaine inside of it went down the drain, leaving the special force breathing heavily in exhaustion from fighting those infected with Tremaine.

Rumor saw there were more of those infected with Tremaine as she raised the walls with her wand, trapping the infectees within so that they wouldn’t go after anymore citizens.

Unbeknownst to them, Hunter had been watching them all from the sidelines with a small smirk at them all.

~.~

It was only two days after the incident that the newspapers were written frantically all over the city.

“Tremaine released into the east side of the city!”

“Mason Corporations behind the Tremaine incident?”

“Who’s the real villain behind the Tremaine incident?”

Jack hoped for those answers to the questions just as much as the press.

Murray was dumbfounded after the incident, his fear suppressed by trying not to worry too much about it.

It was on the day that Hunter was about to speak up. Was Hunter behind this? Why would Hunter do this? Was this planned the entire time?

Hunter had microphones against his face while journalists were asking questions left and right. Jack and Murray were on stage behind Hunter and listened. All of them didn’t seem that hard to answer and rather…easy to explain…but there was two questions he would never forget was asked during the interview.

“Is the situation under control? Who should we blame?”

“This situation is under control,” Hunter said. “This chemical was released by a former employee of mine. His name was Jack Cat. He and his species caused this Tremaine outbreak.”

Jack widened his eyes at this shocking answer.

“Jack turned the wheel to release the chemicals into the water system and we had to shut it down before it was too late. I’ve studied his species for years…I’ve concluded that they can be usually be aggressive, but I would never have thought that the red cats could go this far,” Hunter stated.

The rising anger gripped Jack’s heart. The urge to speak and defend himself took over and Jack didn’t hesitate to follow that urge.

“You know that’s not true!” Jack shouted at Hunter with a growl.

Murray saw his friend charging towards Hunter and held Jack back. “Jack, no, you’re only going to prove his statements—”

“I’ve been framed!” Jack growled at Hunter, tears streaming down his cheeks. “You’ve just put my species in danger. You’ve just put my family in danger and you know it, don’t you?”

Murray was able to hold his friend back and tried to calm Jack down. “Jack, take it easy. You’re only going to make yourself look worse.”

Jack looked to see the journalists winced back in fear, afraid that he will attack either Hunter or any of them. The red feline softened his gaze and looked up at Hunter. Then he glanced back at the press.

“Please…I’m innocent,” Jack begged the press before being manhandled by the cops.

“Hey, let him go!” Murray shouted at the cops. One of the cops shoved Murray back against the wall, breaking off his handle for his cup head.

Murray groaned in pain while watching his friend being dragged off stage by the cops.

“Please, I’ve been framed! You gotta believe me!” Jack cried.

Murray watched in horror, tears edging out of his eyes.

~.~

Fifteen Years Later:

The television flickered off, revealing Jack’s past with Murray and Hunter to both King Dice and Bowlboy in the strange room.

“Odd…” Dice uttered while tilting his head.

“Poor Jack,” Bowlboy replied in pity.

Dice looked around the room some more to find answers to questions. He found another VHS tape. “Hey, what do you think is in this one?”

Bowlboy shrugged his shoulders and pulled the VHS tape out of the VHS tape player. Dice inserted a different VHS tape and saw something completely shocking.

It was a camera to the jail cell with this supposed Jack Cat sitting inside of it. Jack had been quiet…too quiet. Dice and Bowlboy watched someone walking towards the cell…was that this Murray guy? They watched Murray lock picked the jail cell and leading Jack out of his cell.

Dice tilted his head in confusion when the television flickered to another camera to see Jack and Murray in some sort of a secret lab, working on a cure for Tremaine. Both Bowlboy and Dice looked at each other.

“This is even more odd,” Dice responded.

“There are so many secrets here,” Bowlboy pointed out.

Dice took a glance back at those goggles and the gloves. He put them back on and decided to test something. He toggled through individuals already infected with Tremaine. Beppi was definitely one of them along with the…wait…Baroness Von Bon Bon? How in the world did they get the baroness out of Sugarland? She seemed to be withering and decaying once she left Sugarland.

Dice toggled again to find Mugman. What was about Mugman that was so important to Hunter? Dice was about to find out. He pressed the button to get into the memory and found memories of when Mugman and Cuphead were toddlers and were always together. Before Dice could dig further, he heard someone walking to the room.

Dice took the goggles and the gloves off, setting them down on the table. Bowlboy switched the television off and hid in the shadows as King Dice shut off the lights in the room.

“Youse got a lot of nerve kidnapping us!” Ribby’s voice growled.

“Yeah!” Croaks’ voice agreed.

Dice gasped in recognition. Ribby and Croaks? The owners of the Fly Trap? Quickly, the die put on his hood over his head, watching three assassins pushed both Ribby and Croaks through the room.

One of the assassins noticed Dice under the hood. “Help us, would ya? These two are getting hard to handle.”

“Hey!” Ribby shouted in offense. “We was doing fine until you showed up!”

“We’ll pound ya if ya don’t let us go!” Croaks snarled.

Dice joined to “help”, but he wasn’t sure where they were taking the frogs. The assassins took them through another door that Dice didn’t notice before. Once they opened the door, they pushed the frogs through the door while King Dice followed. Dice looked behind him to see Bowlboy sneakily trailing from behind him.

Dice followed the assassins into the underground prison where the people he saw on the video during the Tremaine Incident were all there.

Cagney pounded against the glass that seemed unbreakable. “Hey! What are you going to do to us?!”

Dice couldn’t answer that since he didn’t know himself. He looked ahead to find more the red genie looking onward solemnly. The mad scientist was tinkering his robot inside of his glass cell while the small brown rat was tinkering his vehicle in the cell next to the mad scientist.

The three headed dragon tried to blow fire at the glass to no avail surprisingly. When that failed, the three-headed dragon frowned and cradled their young baby in the cell with them.

Dice could see Hilda sobbing from the corner of the cell. When he looked to his left, he could see the blue slime big ball punching at the glass with his red boxer gloves. The Root Pack containing of Ollie, Chauncey, and Sal Spudder crying in the cell from Ollie’s stench. Rumor Honeybottoms didn’t have her wand and her arms were crossed in the cell, glaring at the assassins holding Ribby and Croaks hostage.

Sally, the blonde woman who was the little girl in the video, was dead in her cell…or was she dead? When Dice approached Sally’s cell to see if she was really dead, Sally perked her head up, her eyes red and her pupils small. She crawled over to the glass and clawed on it, scaring Dice away from the glass with a gasp. Once he left her and trailed behind the assassins, Sally blinked and her eyes returned to normal. She wiped the drool off of her mouth with a cocky grin.

Dice looked to see the bird with the house on his body, taking care of the little bird crying in the cell. Then he approached Beppi and the Baroness, acting irrationally with Tremaine in their veins. They’ve succumbed to their demonic selves, which scared Dice to think about for some reason.

Soon the assassins shoved the frogs into their own cells.

“HEY!” Ribby barked at the assassins before the glass closed behind the brothers. “Get us out of here!”

Dice blinked in horror and found the name-plates above the cells with each other of their names. The last two cells were across from one another, both were empty. Dice looked at one of the empty cell in horror…it…it had his name on it. Then Dice looked across at the other empty cell and widened his eyes in more shock.

“The Devil.”

“What’s wrong?” one of the assassins asked Dice, unaware that it was the King Dice noticing this.

Dice cleared his throat. “Um…why are we capturing King Dice and the Devil? Aren’t they…working with us?”

“We thought the boss explained to you,” the other assassin stated. “To all of us. Were you not listening?”

“No…absolutely not,” Dice responded.

“King Dice is great with magic and his control of his cards. The Devil is the ruler of the Underworld. Once Tremaine inside all of them, the boss will have complete control of everyone, even the Devil. Heck, even the world once he rules Hell.”

Dice widened his eyes in fear. Hunter wants to rule Hell? And raise hell in the world? “Wait, why does he want to be the New Devil?”

“He thinks he could do better than the original Devil. Why else do you think?”

Dice blinked in shock and confusion. “So the deal…he’s going to—”

“Don’t read too much into it. Just do as the boss says,” the assassin ordered while the assassins were walking out.

“O-Okay…well, I’ll just patrol here,” Dice replied, watching the other assassins exit out.

“Uh…look, I ain’t a fan of the Devil, but that is insanity on the whole new level!” Cagney pointed out with a growl. “Does he really think Devil is going to hand him over his throne just like that?! He’s the freaking Devil! Does he really think Devil is going to roll over and let him take over Hell and dominate the world?!”

Captain Brineybeard, who was in the cell next to the empty one belonging to King Dice, blinked in shock. “Wait, do ye reckon that Hunter might be trying t’ gain powers from the Davy Jones?”

“Davy Jones? Who’s that?” Cagney questioned from the other side of the prison.

“It’s what pirates call the Devil,” the genie, with the name Djimmi the Great plastered on the sign above his cell, explained. “The thing that Hunter is not seeing is that Devil is immortal like some of us here. Except the Devil has roamed this world way before any mortal and immortal beings exist along with the Most High. He cannot be controlled no matter how hard you try.”

“The Devil isn’t stupid,” Hilda joined the conversation. “Should we warn King Dice and the Devil?”

“Hey, I’m not worried about the Devil,” Cagney responded. “Literally, I can’t wait to see Hunter burn to crisp when he attempts to take over Hell.”

“Well, we can’t let anyone know of Hunter’s plan…wait a minute,” Rumor looked at Dice under the hood. “Usually, assassins patrolling us would tell us to shut up…”

“Because I’m not one of them,” Dice said while taking off his hood to reveal himself to the prisoners.

The prisoners gasped in shock.

“The King Dice,” Sally gasped in shock.

“Eh, we don’t have to worry about warning him now,” Cagney responded with a shrug.

“What are you doing here? Do you even know where we are?” Djimmi interrogated.

“Uh…I’m just as confused as you are,” Dice responded. “I think we’re underground on the east side of the city I think.”

All the prisoners gasped in fear.

“The east side? Where Tremaine happened all those years ago?” Dr. Kahl, the mad scientist approaching the glass, uttered.

“We was livin’ there when we was tadpoles!” Croaks gasped.

“We were livin’ peacefully there!” Sal stated.

“I ‘ave met Cala Maria thar when I was a young lad!” Brineybeard pointed out.

“I deffelobed ein loffe of machinery zere!” Werner Werman, the rat in the cell, stated.

“I have a safe home there,” Goopy Le Grande, the blue slime ball, responded.

“I lost my father there,” Sally uttered sadly.

“Wait, wait, we’ve quarantined this place,” Cagney pointed out.

“It’s the place anyone least expects,” Rumor uttered in horror. “What have we done?”

Djimmi glanced at King Dice. “Can you get us out? Can you help us?”

“Look, man, I-I don’t know—”

“Dice…”

Dice turned to see Bowlboy behind him.

“There’s someone on the other side of that door,” Bowlboy said while pointing at the fortified door.

Dice looked at the door and at the prisoners. “Who’s at the other side of the door?”

“We don’t know,” Djimmi responded solemnly. “It was a man who Hunter tortured so often, but we never knew his name.”

“That’s horrible,” Ribby uttered.

“I vouldn’t vant to pe zat guy,” Werner stated.

Dice turned back to the door and took a deep breath. “Here goes nothin’ then.” He walked up beside Bowlboy, facing the door. He could hear someone sobbing from the other side.

Dice turned the knob on the door and found out the door was locked. “Dang it. How are we going to get in without a key—?”

Bowlboy took out they key to the door from his pocket.

“I’m not gonna even ask how you even got the key.”

Bowlboy smirked at Dice. The small bowl unlocked the door with the key and opened it. 

~.~

The door opened with a creak and Dice peeked into the room. In the dark room, the light shined from the door and up towards the man, who stopped sobbing. His shoulders tightened and looked away from them.

“I’ve already answered everything for you,” he said, sniffling. “You’ve killed my wife…my kids…my best friend. What more do you want from me?”

“Whoa, hey, easy there, we don’t want anything from ya,” Dice reassured the cup stranger.

The cup stranger couldn’t look back, but Dice could tell that he was trying.

“The ingredients to the cure? I’m tellin’ ya, I don’t remember. Your boss took half of my memory away,” the stranger growled. “You can beat it out of me all you want…but I don’t remember.”

“Easy there, we’re only trying to help—”

The stranger snorted. “Sure, you’re only trying to help. I guess you’re new to this whole Night Stalkers cult.”

“What? No! I’m not a part of them at all!” Dice responded while taking off the black robe and dropped by the cup stranger’s feet. “See? I’m only using that as a disguise.”

The cup stranger gasped and struggled in his chains. “Who are you then?”

“I’m sure you’ve heard of me. I’m King Dice,” Dice replied with a smile.

The cup stranger didn’t respond.

“You know…from Roll the Dice…”

The cup stranger still didn’t respond.

“He must be living under a rock,” Bowlboy assumed.

Dice sighed. “Nevermind. Let’s get you outta here.”

Bowlboy got out his lock picks and picked the locks around the stranger’s ankles and wrists. Once that was done, the stranger immediately sprang up to his feet and grabbed Dice by the purple coat, slamming him against the wall. Dice was face-to-face with the stranger, noticing that the stranger only miss one eye and he was missing a handle.

“Whoa! What the—?! Hey!” Dice yelled. “I’m trying to help you!”

“How do I know you’re not lying to me about being part of the cult?” the stranger growled.

“He’s not!” Bowlboy testified for Dice.

“If I was a part of the cult, you wouldn’t be out right now,” Dice pointed out to the stranger.

“Really now?” the cup stranger growled. “Maybe you’ve developed this tactic to get me to trust you so easily. You might stab me in the back.”

“What you’re saying is making no sense,” Dice said with a groan. “Why would I let you out only to put you back?”

“I don’t know. You tell me, Mr. King Dice,” the stranger snarled. “Let’s see what your true intentions are.”

“W-What?” Dice watched the stranger’s eye turned violet. “Hey, what are you—?”

It was sudden that his vision became violet and he could no longer talk.

“Kingsley! Kingsley!!!”

Dice’s vision was cleared and he groaned in pain. He was back to being a kid in an isolated cabin. He was dressed in disgusting rags and was bruised. Dice saw a silhouette of his father, causing him to widened his eyes in horror.

“Kingsley Dice, you better get your butt here right now! Daddy needs to get a look at ya!”

Dice blinked while breathing heavily, frozen in terror until his next memory flash into the lively casino. Dice looked and saw the Devil himself trying to get his father’s soul. However, his father saw him and grabbed him by the shoulders.

“Take my son’s soul instead. He’ll be a good boy to you.”

The Devil quirked a brow. “You’re willing to trade your son’s soul for your own?”

“Yes!”

The Devil’s lips formed into a smirk. “Well, well, I guess mortals never change.”

In a snap of the finger, Dice could feel the chains tying him to the Underworld in both his wrists and his soul.

He watched his father walking away out of the casino.

“Don’t worry, young one,” Devil reassured Dice while walking away. “I’m sure your dear ole daddy will die in the worse way possible.”

Dice shed tears.

Make it stop! Make it stop!

Dice blinked and now he was an adult like he was before. He realized he had his own show back. Before he could put on a grand smile in front of faceless audience, he looked down and saw Cuphead hugging his leg. Then he looked ahead and saw Mugman sitting on the seat, watching both him and Cuphead. It was then the violet glow around faded away in an instant.

Dice blinked and gasped as if he had been suffocating for so long. The cup stranger’s eye no longer glowed violet. He let go of the die, who stumbled by the doorway, breathing heavily as if he hadn’t breathed in a while. He looked up at the stranger in horror.

“What the hell did you do to me?!” Dice questioned breathlessly.

Bowlboy looked over at Dice in concern and then looked back at the stranger, who seemed to be just as shocked as Dice was.

“You saw my boys?” the cup stranger uttered, a tear rolling out of his eye.

“Y-Your boys?! What did you do to me?!” Dice shouted at the stranger.

The stranger looked down at Bowlboy, who tilted his head in confusion. He came over to Bowlboy and grabbed the bowl’s wrist gently. Automatically, Bowlboy’s eyes turned violet, which caused Dice to wince back. Surprisingly…it was a quick process and Bowlboy’s eyes turned back to normal, who was breathing heavily and shivering.

“You both saw my boys!” the stranger gasped in shock.

“Cuphead and Mugman?” Bowlboy questioned.

“That’s what Elder Kettle calls them,” the stranger said with a relieved smile and tears streaming down his cheek. “M-My boys are alive. My boys are alive.”

Dice watched the stranger breaking down crying in happiness, confused until it clicked. “Wait a minute…are you…the father of Cuphead and Mugman?”

The stranger looked up, smiling through the tears. “Uh-huh. I can’t believe my boys were alive.”

Dice looked closely at the cup stranger and he could finally recognized him from seeing him on the television. “Wait…Murray?”

Murray, the cup stranger, got up on his feet and wiped the tears. “It’s been a while since I’ve heard that name.”

Dice widened his eyes in shock.

“I-I need to see my boys. I need to know where they are!” Murray urged and hurried out of the room.

“Murray, wait! There’s something going on with Mugman—” Before Dice could finish his sentence, they heard footsteps coming towards the underground prison. Right before the prisoners could warn them to hide, the door busted through and revealed it to be Hunter and ten more hooded assassins.

Murray drew his brows at Hunter with his fists clenched.

“You know, Dice, I never thought you were going to stoop this low. Apparently, this is a new low for you,” Hunter growled.

Dice looked at the lever next to him and then back at Hunter. “You were going to betray the Boss, are you?!”

“Knock him out! Get him to his cell!” Hunter ordered his men. He looked at Murray. “You and I have unfinished business to discuss.”

Murray clenched his teeth and growled.

Dice placed his hand on the lever and pulled it, freeing all the prisoners from their cells.

~.~

Immediately, Cagney started to attack the hooded assassins with the help of Hilda and Goopy.

The three headed dragon, Grim Matchstick, blew fire at the ceiling above them as soon as the dragon got out of the cell. The ceiling collapsed, crushing the two empty cells that had both Dice’s and Devil’s names engraved on it. Murray was blinded by the sunlight and hid in the shadow. The bird, Wally Warbles, used his wing to get everyone on board. Werner, Dr. Kahl, Dr. Kahl’s robot, and Wally’s son got on Wally Warbles. Sally, The Root Pack, and Goopy got on Grim’s back. Beppi and Baroness Von Bon Bon tore into the assassins, scurrying away to find a way out.

Brineybeard got out of his cell and saw Cala Maria sulking in her own cell until it was opened. She was smaller than she usually was with her green mermaid tail and purple dead octopus hair. She looked up to see Brineybeard offering his hand to her. She smiled and grabbed his large hand. He picked her up and carried her out of her cell.

Everyone hurried out of the hole Grim created while Dice watched them all crawling out of the hole and escaping.

“Dice?” The familiar voice uttered.

Dice glanced over to see Devil standing there with Hunter next to him. Henchman and Stickler stood behind Devil, their eyes widened in shock at him.

“B-Boss, let me explain,” Dice stuttered, gaining Murray’s attention along with the frog brothers, Cala Maria, and Brineybeard.

Devil drew his brows together with a snarl, pointing his pitchfork at Dice. “I should’ve known you would turn on me sooner than later.”

Dice breathed heavily. “Please, let me explain—!”

The Devil shot the fireball from his pitchfork at Dice.

Dice was ready to accept his fate before Brineybeard tackled him away from the fireball. Brineybeard collapsed with Cala Maria in his arms along with Dice. Ribby and Croaks joined along with Bowlboy and Murray.

“Are ye alright?!” Brineybeard questioned.

“Hey-o, is the Devil your boss?!” Ribby interrogated.

“This is not the time to question,” Cala Maria pointed out. “We need to go now!”

“The lass be right! We needs t’ run now!” Brineybeard agreed with the sea monster in his arms.

“How do we get out? We can’t even fly,” Croaks pointed out.

They saw the silhouette of the Devil coming towards them.

It was sudden they felt something underneath them as they looked down and realized the large mushroom grew up towards the hole.

The group soon realized that it was Cagney growing a mushroom once they reach out of the hole. The mushroom tilted to the side.

“Scatter!” Cagney screamed for the group.

Dice pulled Murray by the arm to hurry onward while Ribby and Croaks ran in a different direction. Brineybeard carried Cala in his arms and followed Murray and Dice.

Cagney hurried away from the hole to catch up with Hilda and Bowlboy in a separate direction.

The Devil came out of the hole with Hunter by his side and Henchman and Stickler catching up them. The Devil watched Dice running away with Murray, Captain Brineybeard, and Cala Maria. With a growl, Devil aimed his pitchfork at them and fired another fireball.

The group dodged it and looked behind them to find Devil flying after them.

“Oh no, he’s going to kill us. He’s going to kill us,” Dice replied while breathing heavily in panic.

On cue, Ribby drove the car big enough to fit Brineybeard, Cala, Murray, and Dice in with Croaks on the passenger side.

“Get in!” Croaks shouted at them while opening the back door for them to hop in.

Dice and Murray entered the back seat of the car with Brineybeard jumping in after them with Cala Maria in his arms.

Cala decided to peek out of the window to find Devil chasing after them. With her brows drawn together, her eyes turned red and shot out laser beams. The Devil didn’t have time to react when the laser beams hit him and he was automatically turned to stone.

She smirked and put her head back into the vehicle. “Step on it!”

Ribby slammed his foot on the gas pedal and drove into the forest.

“I need to find my boys,” Murray uttered.

“Your boys?” Croaks questioned.

“Cuphead and Mugman,” Dice clarified for Murray.

“Wait, yer the father of those two?!” Ribby questioned with a gasp.

“We know yer lads, mate! We’ll take ye t’ ‘em if we knew where they be,” Brineybeard stated.

“Ooh! We know where they are!” Ribby exclaimed excitedly. “Hang on, we’ll take you to yer boys!”

With that said, Ribby sped up into the forest, getting away from the city.

Back to the Devil, he managed to burst through the stone with his flames and looked up with a snarl. He picked up his pitchfork and now he had no idea where the traitor and his new group of friends went.

“Ugh, he has the gall to betray me!” Devil growled.

Hunter shook his head. “A shame that is. I guess his greed got the best of him.”

“He’ll pay for this!” Devil snarled. “He’ll pay for all of it.”

Hunter smirked. “I know a way to make all of them pay for their wrongdoings towards you.”

Devil turned to Hunter in confusion at first. Then he grinned mischievously. “Do tell.”

Hunter smiled evilly.

To Be Continued... 

[ask-maxie-boy]

Goonion's Ghoul (Part 3) [dp x dc]

(A/N we switching the official name of the goonion to The First Universal Henchmans' Union. Just makes sense, thank y'all for the advice)

(Parts 1 & 2: here) (Part 4: here)

"Before we begin, I'd just like to clarify a few things. Mainly, can I ask for your preferred name?"

"Is that a joke?"

"Well, I figured it would professional to come out and call you Mr. Cobblepot, but seeing as we're talking about a... certain aspect of your enterprises, I wasn't sure you wanted your legal name in the records. The Union takes confidentiality very seriously."

Oswald Cobblepot looked down at the scrawny boy in front of him. This was the guy that had Eddie shaking in his boots? He tapped the ashes off his cigarette into the ashtray, and scoffed. "Doesn't matter to me, as long as you remember who you're talking to before you open your mouth."

"Of course! As you wish, Mr. Penguin."

There it was. That smile just a bit too wide, just like Riddler had said. Oswald Cobblepot wasn't an amateur, he wouldn't let something like that throw him off balance. "Alright, kid, lets cut to the chase. Whats this all about a Union?"

"Oh, Mr. Penguin, I had thought you heard! The First Universal Henchmans' Union is a recently formed collective of working class freelance goons, henchmen, and grunts of all different colors."

"Hweh! And what do I care if a bunch of simpletons wanna have a party together?"

The kid's head tilted, a sickening crack! ringing through the room. Just for a second, its eyes seemed to glow.

When you deal with bats for so long, little things like that don't sway you.

"If they're so little to you in your mind, then surely anything they might ask of you shouldn't be that hard to swallow?"

The temperature in the room seemed to drop, as the thing's face tried to imitate inquisitiveness.

Good. The Penguin likes it cold.

"You can toss away the whole intimidation shtick, boy. I didn't get to be where I was by bending over to every ignoramus who thinks they can get me to do what they want."

When you deal with Bats for so long, you start to pay more attention to little expressions. The way the shadows suddenly fall onto the boy's blue-eyed, black haired face as he tilts his head downward makes The Penguin's flinch, just for a moment.

"I promise you sir, the Goonion is a very real, and very serious organization."

Cobblepot sneers, cigarette holder angling upward, as he taps his umbrella on the ground. "I pay my people well. My lounge is up to code, too. You don't have a damn thing on me, and here you are trying to pull the wool over my eyes. Well listen here, boy, you don't run an operation like this in Gotham without knowing fear. Fear is watching every shadow, looking for the pin pricks of light. Fear is the cracking of bones in the room over as you know the jig's up. Fear is watching Gotham's shadow spawn appear from the darkness, promising the only thing he wont do is kill you. You're way out of your league if you think I'll bend to such a cheap trick."

When you deal with Bats for so long, you learn to keep your eyes open. You keep track of exits, you look for little disturbances, keep your ears ready for even the softest sound.

You pay attention to that little voice that says you're being watched.

"Mr Penguin, do I need to remind you just who these 'simpletons' are? They're the men who carry your goods to and from your lounge. They're the ones who rig up the Riddler's bombs, traffic weapons in and out of the city. What happens when deals go south, when plans are canceled partway though?"

When you deal with Bats for so long, you watch the shadows. They practically live in them, entering and exiting like they're made from the stuff. Anything that might give away their position.

The shadows are dancing. Pulsing with something even darker than Gotham. He swears he can hear the sound of a bat gently hitting someone's hand. Distant laughter, not natural, almost forced.

"You know, Mr. Penguin, The Joker is easily one of our worst offenders. One of his more interesting complaints is the lack of security in regards to chemicals. See, he doesn't really care much if there's missing inventory, or what happens after his plan, as long as there's enough for what he needs." A vial flutters between its fingers, eyes almost bored as a forked tongue slides between sharpened teeth. "I wonder, where does it all go?

Eyes, green as emerald and as bright as the sun burn into Ozwald's. A grin stretches wider, wider, quite literally from one ear to the next filled with jagged teeth. "Do you want to find out?"

...~☆~...

"...My... smoking habits."

"Yeah, honestly. Its like you said. Most of your stuff is up to board, and your workers are fairly happy. Its mainly just an issue for henches with asthma, though secondhand smoke isn't something most people enjoy."

"You did all that over my cigarettes?!"

"its fairly understood that the Iceberg Lounge is not a smoke-free area, so you can do as you please there, but when it comes to abandoned warehouses or other places of business, we ask you please refrain from smoking."

"I can't believe this."

"For what its worth, the goons understand its part of your whole outfit, and are willing to compromise. We have a list of alternatives that visibly resemble a lit cigarette, and will fit in your holder, but wont actually release any smoke..."

@akikkobara @thegatorsgoose @addie-lover-of-stories @apointlessbox @screamingtofillthevoid @semiprofessionaldumbass @sailor-goddess @malice-of-the-sunrise @savaton @spikedlynx @emergentpanda-blog @starlightcat04

[cattyanon]

It's finally here, the last chapter! >:)

[jouska-the-deer]

Sonic Twitter and TikTok Takeover 2023 Masterpost

Guess what? I saved every response to the takeover like I did last year, and here they all are, with a bonus.

I created a transcript of every single answer and saved it in a Google Doc, which you can find the link to [Here]

Links to all the individual Tweets and Tiktoks can be found below in order of when they were answered.

Intro [Twitter Link][TikTok Link]

Sonic: Question from @MetroGamer21: “How often do you keep your quills sharp? Do you brush it yourself or do you have someone else do it?”

Sonic: Alright. Question from At Xyn…qieqie underscore- “Okay Knuckles, I just gonna know what’s under your gloves!” Uh, geez. “Is it weird spiked hands or is it just the design of the gloves?”

Amy: This question is from @SilentNayuri. They ask Eggman, (Clears throat) “Out of every machine you’ve built, which one was your favorite?"

Tails: This question is from @Prisma_Sonic. “To Sonic, have you ever wondered if there were other versions of you out there? Asking for a friend.”

Sonic: This question’s from Jack. “For Eggman.” Oh. “Why did you get rid of the yellow cape? It was so fashionable!”

Sonic: Well this question is for me from At daniel nu beh n… “For Sonic, who in the group do you think is the prettiest!”

Amy: From @Rayfun_25028. “To Knuckles, I always wondered, how are you able to glide, actually.”

Sonic: This next question comes from @pabloandoogway. “Why do none of you use the emerald power anymore?”

Eggman: Question coming in hot from @BlueBlur68. Let’s see. “For Sonic, since you guys were in Eggman’s dream, what would Sonic’s dream be like?”

Tails: Question from Leyla. They ask, “Do you guys sometimes feel dizzy when you do a spindash or jump? If not, why?”

Amy: Aw! This next one’s from @selkadombom1n. They said, “Hey gang, big fan here. Today’s takeover is actually very special because it’s also my nineteenth birthday.” Aw. “If it’s not too much to ask, could I get a happy birthday serenade from your beautiful singing voices?”

Knuckles: wyattron asks, “Do the Chaos Emeralds have different tastes with the different colors?”

Tails: @Razer, Ooh, asks, “Are there any moments where going fast is not the best option?”

Tails: This question is from Pastelz. “Knuckles, does Rouge ever come by trying to steal the Master Emerald?”

Tails: This question is from @thatblockholevt. “To Eggman. What would your fursona be?”

Amy: Yubby asks me, “Do you wear inhibitor rings?”

Sonic: Question from @HannahW_1031 to Amy, “When or how did you get into reading fortune cards and where did you get them?”

Knuckles: knulaa! asks, “What are your thoughts on knowing that you have a biggest fan?”

Tails: Question from At Real-Mephi-One-es-Fan, “To Amy Rose. How was the concert with Shadow? Did you go to any other concerts by any chance?”

Knuckles: Two Stars asks: “For Tails, where did your fear of thunder come from?”

Eggman: Question from @ShadowsTrueBiggestFan, “Can I adopt Shadow? He can’t say no he isn’t in the Twitter takeover.”

Eggman: @DigiDevilTrig asks, “Sonic, if you’re the fastest thing alive, why did you use the train to go to the Mystic Ruins?”

Sonic: This one’s from spiro. Hi Eggman, are you looking for another henchman? I could be your henchwoman? I’m on your side all the way! Team Eggman!"

Sonic: This next one’s from holz. They say, “Since Shadow isn’t present this time, what’re your opinions on him?”

Knuckles: @Sonic_Sunset asks, “We know Sonic was a huge inspiration for Tails, but does he have other sources of inspiration? Like Dr. Eggman’s machinery for example.”

Sonic: Let’s see. This next question is from ‘the dog is very cool’. Interesting, uh, username, there, but, I’m happy for you. They ask, “Can I borrow a couple rings? I wanna buy a bag of funions.” 

Tails: @45Euvee asks, “For everyone. If you were a flavor of cake, what flavor would you be?”

Knuckles: Uh, I think this is for everyone. thehiddenface52 asks, “What’s your favorite winter activity?”

Sonic: This is from sam. “To everyone, how much sleep do you need? Does the fastest thing alive need a full eight hours?”

Eggman: Question from @valiixe. “If Sonic was a worm, would any of you guys still like him?”

Knuckles: Autumn asks, “How can I convince my dad to give me all Sonic stuff for Christmas?”

Eggman: @TailsAustin9922 asks the class, “What is something that you don’t do very well that you’d like to improve on?”

Amy: Okay! Question from @JopieTropi. They ask, “If the five of you could swap roles with someone for an entire day, who would each of you choose?”

Sonic: Question from fan, “Why is it called an oven when you ove in the cold food of out hot eat the food.”

Sonic: At creator-super-long-underscore asks, “Is it painful to give Knuckles a fist bump or handshake?”

Amy: @SpongyRabbit asks Sonic, “Why don’t you just put Eggman in jail?” 

Eggman: @thefortnitelegend190 asks, “Eggman, why don’t you team with Sonic? You guys would be a really good team.”

Tails: @squidboi7674 asks, “Eggman, do you do commissions? Like can I pay you to do a custom badnik all for me, because that would be really cool I think.”

Sonic: @TyphonTwister asks, “You guys have beaten a lot of baddies over the years. This might be a little weird but, who was your favorite to fight? Besides the good doctor of course.”

Tails: ExcaliburSonic asks, “If flamingos are pink because they eat shrimp, then why are you blue? Do you eat blue paint?”

Knuckles: This is from kittyxpickle. They ask, “To Knuckles, rougher than the rest of them, are you allowed on the internet without supervision? If yes, please reconsider.”

Outro [Twitter Link] [TikTok Link]

Feel free to let me know of any mistakes or missing responses, in either this post or the transcript doc, and I'll try to fix it. I'll also take suggestions on how to improve the transcript, since this is my first time making one.