And That’s The Way The Coke Crumbles
“That was an experience,” Chuuya commented.
“Did you see those bear claws! Amazing!” Tamaki chattered happily.
“Indeed, their cake sale is going well. TOO well. If they continue at this rate they may soon have almost £70, and I don’t know how we’d be able to beat them off,” Kyoya replied.
“Professor Tomoe was right. We must destroy it while we still have the chance. Before they get too powerful,” Sanji said.
Chuuya nodded. “Yes.”
“But first let’s sell this cocaine. Atsushi! Empty your pocket!” Dazai ordered.
“Waaaaaa! Let’s go somewhere private first Dazai-san. My asshole is packed full of these eggs.”
Dazai sighed. “Fine. Go to the nearest toilets then come straight back. Well drum up some customers.”
“Hai!”
At that Atsushi waddled off. Dazai gayzed after him. With so much cocaine stuffed inside of him he looked more like a pregnant woman than a normal, un-pregnant woman. It turned Dazai on in all the wrong ways.
The students stepped into the centre of the quad.
Briefly, Professor Heine passed them. They didn't notice the short man as he was carrying a stack of papers, but he saw them. He saw their faces, and recognised them in an instant through all the make up and cross dressing. How could he forget the faces of his students, especially when they had been such magnificent students, the only students that made his life still worth living? He gasped when he took in their disguises, clearly the Oxbridge students were up to something. Excitement rose in his small belly at the thought of joining their escapade. The time when he had helped them solve the mystery of Chopper’s missing leg, and when they went to the bar Hog’s Head together, were some of the best memories he had. He revisited those memories in the dark nights when he struggled the most, when he tossed and turned in his bed unable to sleep. Tortured by the stupidity of the Knottingham Trent students everyday, he grappled with his sanity. But those golden memories kept him clean, pure, unburdened by the devil that watched him when he slept, waiting patiently to prey on his weakness. With a gasp, he thought, surely he must join them! Help them! Assimilate with them and become one of them. Then, and maybe then, they could recommend him as a professor for Oxbridge, and then he would never have to leave them ever again. They could be together, finally. Surely this was destiny? With a shuffle of his short child-like limbs, he skipped to his chambers, preparing himself to join them. He’d be able to fashion a dress easily, and of course he would use some pens for make up etc.
“Step right up, step right up!” Kunikida cried, binbag rustling. The Knottingham Trent students all turned to them.
“Who are these beautiful women?” they all began to murmur. It was the question on everybody’s lips and on the rim of everybody’s assholes.
“We have what you've all been waiting for! Yes, it's cocaine! All natural healing cocaine! You can use cocaine for anything. You sir-” Kunikida pointed at a man, “you can use cocaine to fix your thinning hair. And you-” he pointed to a young woman, “cocaine will definitely fix your marriage!”
“But I'm not even married!” she cried.
“But with this cocaine you’ll think you are!” Kunikida retorted.
Everyone nodded, impressed.
“Will cocaine make me beautiful?” a voice came from the crowd of students that had gathered.
Kunikida searched the crowd for the voice. He narrowed his eyes until he spotted him, a certain green haired man.
“Yes sir! Absolutely! You see, cocaine has natural properties that-”
“Wrong,” Jae-ha replied, cutting him off. “You see, I'm already beautiful. My skin is flawless, my hair: soft and luxurious. My abs were carved by Pokkle himself at the moment of my conception. He blessed me with these kissable lips because He himself knew that every man, woman and child would want to kiss me. And of course I shall oblige,” he winked at the crowd. “What kind of beautiful man would I be if I wasn't kissing young children? Especially my wife and cousin, Princess Yona. She's a whole 16 years old. When she turns 17 she shall be too old for me and I'm looking for a replacement already. I'm in the market as it were. But to tie one beautiful man such as myself down to just ONE woman is too cruel. How can I, legally, refuse people from experiencing me, in all my gloryhole?”
“What a nice man, he cares so much for his cousin,” Lady Elizabeth Midford murmured. Her thoughts turned to her own cousin and deceased fiance Ciel, who had been murdered by the brute, Pokkle.
Tamaki pulled on Kyoya’s sleeve. “Kyoya,” he murmured seriously. “I want to kill this man.”
“That's just the cocaine talking,” Kyoya patted his friend’s hand comfortingly.
“No, it was me talking. My lips are moving, see?” He shoved his face closer to Kyoya. “The cocaine monster that watches me when I sleep does not talk. He only screams,” he shook his head slowly, sadly. “He only screams.”
Kunikida frowned down at Jae-ha. “THIS cocaine is the BEST cocaine. And right now we have a special offer! Buy one, get a toilet roll free! Perfect for killing janitors, as seen on Prank Stage!!”
The crowd murmured excitedly.
“I’ll buy this cocaine!” Yuno cried rushing forward from the crowd, wads of money already waving in her hand. Her lover Yuki had stopped loving her when her hair had been cut off in the riots. Perhaps with this cocaine, she’ll be able to grow it out again. She'll win back his love, even if she has to kill everyone to do it. She'll fight for his love, bleed for it, hell, she’ll even caffeinate for it.
“Yes! Good choice sir!” Kunikida praised her.
The others in the crowd began to murmur even more, their voices rising, and then jostled each other, pulling out cash from their Pokkle Pockets.
“Easy, easy, one at a time!” Kunikida could barely contain his excitement. There was easily £60 to be made here.
All of a suddenly, a voice cried out. “Stop! In the name of the law! This is an unlawful gathering to sell illegal substances! Everyone! Lay down and await arrest!” The voice was a man. A beautiful man, a man of character. It was Nishijima. He held his hand out, signalling them to stop, and in his other hand he held onto the scruff of a struggling Atsushi. His delicate lace knickers had fallen down by his ankles, and with every twist and turn in the policeman's grip another kinder egg spilled out onto the ground.
Behind the police man was a crowd of sexi men, scantily clad in stripper police uniforms. As the only officer in the force, Nishijima often found himself hiring sexi strippers for manpower. They all stood behind him in a V formation, shorts ending inches past their ass, bulges bulging; the one on the far left stood sexily spinning his baton in his grip and winked at Kunikida, the one on the far right stood poised in a crouch position with a plastic gun in his grip, ass looking extra luscious from how he was crouched.
“Oh no! They have Atsushi! How will we sell our cocaine if he gets arrested?” Kyoya asked.
“The cocaine is all popping out!” Tamaki cheered, doing a roly-poly into the centre and grabbing at random kinder egg boxes.
“That’s true, we no longer need Atsushi. Let’s go!” Kunikida yelled.
Pokkle sat on his hell-throne, rubbing his palms together out of excitement. How perfectly his plan was working! The Oxbridge students were losing all sense of kinship and loyalty to each other. He gayzed down in his bedazzled magnifying glass; he’d been too focussed on the scene unfolding at Knottingham to be bothered to change it, plus Sebastian was oot and about.
All that time the sexi stripper police stayed in their V-position, smoundering in all different directions, stuck in a still pose. Nishijima was preoccupied by shaking Atsushi’s weakened body in his grip, weakened ofc simply via the extents he had to exert his asshole to fit in such copious amounts of cocaine into it. Like a salt shaker, each shake of Atsushi’s body resulted in another coke egg popping out of him; Nishijima watched on in wonder, entirely too preoccupied by tryna figure out how many the criminal had shoved up there. When he first caught the boy he’d assumed him at LEAST four months pregnant, that’s how swollen his abdomen was!
“What!” Nishijima yelled in response to Kunikida, snapping out of his fixation on Atsushi’s asshole (which in itself was a feat). He tossed the body of Atsushi to one of the stippers, who immediately cuffed him with fluffy pink handcuffs. “Don’t let them get away!” Nishijima cried, watching as the ‘girls’ disappeared into the crowd, “CHARRGGEEEE!”
The police rushed the crowd of Knottingham Trent students, shields out guns out. The crowd cried in confusion and anger. The two forces met… THERE WAS A FIREFIGHT. The students and the police began to battle fervently.
Jae-ha jumped with the power of his dragon leg high, high into the sky and surveyed the chaotic fight from above. With keen eyes he spotted Yuki trying to hobble away on his walking stick, but alas he was too slow. He also happened to spot the gun he held clutched in one hand.
With an arrogantly sly grin, Jae-ha landed next to Yuki. “Hello, I shall be commandeering your weapon ugly boy!”
He snatched the gun out of his hand smoothly, and Yuki didn't even have time to cry out in alarm before Jae-ha gave him a sexi wink, flying back up into the sky.
Brandishing the weapon, he aimed at Nishijima. “Retreat at once young, beautiful man, or I shall shoot! I will do everything within my power, both as a dragon and a beautiful man, to protect these fine people at this fine university, Knottingham Trent University.”
“THIS UNIVERSITY IS DISGUSTING!” Nishijima cried, aiming his shaft at the flying green haired man and firing.
Jae-ha narrowed his eyes angrily, and shot. The surprise on his face was sight to behold when only a spurt of water came out. “Reminds me of my last orgasm,” he murmured, as Nishijima’s bullets ripped into his torso, blood spraying onto the crowd below. The crowd gasped as the blood rained down upon them. Was this an omen of Pokkle’s return, an absolute echoing back to the Leopika wedding reception when Pokkle’s corpse was slashed into and hung from the ceiling beams, bleeding down on everyone? The crowd cheered at this idea, and stuck their tongues out to taste the crimson drink they were blessed to have witnessed. And then Jae-ha’s body fell sharply to the ground, hitting it with such an impact the cardboard floor ripped beneath him. There was a sound of bones shattering and breaking from the fall, his ribcage split open, heart visible for everyone to see.
Atsushi cried into his fluffy handcuffs, no not because the kinder eggs were still popping out of him, and certainly not because he’d been arrested, and definitely not because he was 70% sure that there was still an egg or two stuck in him from back when they’d tried to get the coke into Sheffield Harem. He cried because he was the last one who had sex with the dragon, not even five minutes ago in his cross-dress attire, and the dragon kept complaining about how ‘loose yet full’ his asshole was.
Shin-ah was in the crowd (who wasn’t??). At the sight of his comrade’s body being ripped apart by bullets, he had cried, “Goddamn, he killed Jae-ha with one gun!” No one had ever heard him yell before so this was a big deal. Unfortunately no one was able to hear it. His screams were drowned out by the cult of Pokkle chanting his name: “Pokkle! Pokkle! Pokkle!” they cried, thrusting their bare Pokkle Pockets to the sky.
Heine, who had just appeared, dressed in a potato sack for a dress, cried out in distress. His cross-dressing was ruined by all this blood! How could he impress his students now? And where were they? He searched the crowds with tears in his eyes, but alas, they were gone!
“This man is in crossdress!” Nishijima yelled, grabbing Heine from under his armpits and settling him on his hip to hold him one-handed so he could still grab people with his free hand, “I’ve got you now! Come with me, you drug-dealing criminal!”
Heine struggled in Nishijima’s grip, punching the man’s chest with his baby-fists, but Nishijima’s grip did not go gentle into that good night, it raged with the fire of his anger, and he held on to the small boi at his hip.
Later, Heine would find himself in an interrogation room surrounded by three sexi stripper cops - not that he knew of their REAL occupation. One would lean over and whisper menacingly (seductively) in his ear ‘Foursome or LYFE in PRISON, bitchhhhh.’ It sounded bizarre to Heine but he knew he wouldn't last a day in prison without enduring MANY a-foursome, and that was if he was LUCKY. Plus, the cops were sexi, and there was one twisting a baton in his grip who seemed to have the S to Heine’s &M. He sexily ran his tongue against the baton, undoing a few buttons revealing his godly abs. The others positioned themselves as promiscuously as possible, bulging bulges facing Heine. This was truly a nightmare.
“Phew, that was close!” Sanji said calmly. Dazai and Akutagawa stood on either side of him, panting.
“Smart move, using Atsushi as a decoy,” Dazai added. “And what a wonderful martyr he would be.”
The group started walking down the dusty road, arms folded behind their heads very anime-style. Some were still in some level of cross-dress, with a single false lash missing, or flapping in the wind by their eyelid; unshaven legs visible through ripped skirts, barefoot having kicked off stilettos and the like.
Kyoya sighed, “And we’re still as bad-off as we were BEFORE infiltrating Knottingham. No coke money to our names, and we had to cash out for these outfits…”
“We’ll have to try again,” Akutagawa muttered, “After lunch, maybe.”
“Lunch??” Tamaki cheered, “I’ve got plenty!” He held up a handful of kinder eggs.
-
Fukazawa lay on the carpet of his office, arms spread by his sides, hair mussed and messy in the most exquisite way possible. The man was clearly in deep thought, his brow wrinkled, lips swollen from biting them too much, yakata lapels open a little too far in his anguish.
“Fu-Fukazawa?”
Victor stood at the doororo, tiredness clear in his expression.
Fukazawa sat up. He of all people knew how much Victor needed Ayato - after all, he’d brought Ayato into his hallowed institution with Victor in mind. Once such a bright young hopeful, obliterated by Pokkle, and like a phoenix Victor began to rise from the heaps of trash he’d imprisoned himself in, guided by Ayato’s steady grip and pounding heart.
“I’ll bring him back,” Fukazawa said gently, resolve in his tone.
Victor’s eyes shone with tears.
“I promise you,” Fukazawa stood, turned toward his desk which was laden with investigation stuff - binoculars, printouts of people in different locations, and an around-the-clock surveillance of his prime suspect - “I’m going to fix this. All of it. He’ll be back before you know it.”
Victor turned away, eyes shielded by his palms. He knew he would be able to do nothing to stop the sobs, the way his chest quaked, his breath stuttered, but he couldn’t force himself to move away from the radiance and comfort that was Fukazawa’s presence.
“My son,” Fukazawa whispered to himself, looking toward the papers strewn on his desk, “I’ll bring you back to where you belong. I’ll bring you home.”