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Resplendent AI 54

Ever since she was a little girl, Emily always dreamed of going place to place to see the world and all the Pokemon in it. She use to spend hours reading about each and every Pokemon she could get her hands on and watching countless hours of Pokemon battles and documentaries on TV. The idea of one day owning her own Pokemon and travelling from region to region to seeing all that the world had to offer was exciting and something she hoped to one day be able to do. That was what made the day she graduated from school one of the best days of her life. Emily had graduated as one of the school's top students, and her mother gave her a very special present for doing so well and making her so proud. It was a present wrapped in red wrapping paper and a white bow on top, and inside of it was a little red-and-white pokeball. The ball had opened up after a few seconds on its own, and out of it came a little Growlithe puppy with a little red bow around her neck, yapping excitedly and nearly jumping onto Emily the second the little puppy saw her. Emily tried not to scream in pure delight at the sight of the little Growlithe as it leaped into her arms the moment she opened them wide to her. She spent the whole day playing with her new little Growlithe and found them both to be quick friends. At one point, the little Growlithe slipped and fell on her clumsy little paws, and a little flame burst from her maw. After a little giggle, Emily had decided to name her new best friend for life, Blaze. In the middle of the night, as Emily was falling asleep, she could hear the sound of a little panting beast approaching her bed. Before she knew it, the little puff ball had jumped up on her bed and curled up beside her. Her new friend was warm like a gentle fire and the feeling of fur against her as she lay in bed made her feel so safe and comfortable that it was easy for her to fall asleep. It was by far the best rest she'd gotten in a long time. The next morning came as an even bigger surprise when her mother greeted her with breakfast and a packed bag for her after she got woken up by a couple of eager licks to her cheek. That was when her mother smiled proudly down at her daughter and a eager Blaze with tears welling up in her eyes as she told her it was time her little girl got to fulfill her dreams. Emily almost couldn't believe what her mother was telling her, but she got up and hugged her mother tightly with tears in her own eyes. She spent the whole morning with her mother before grabbing the packed back and starting her journey. Her mother had packed her enough to get her started: five pokeballs, pokefood, potions, antidotes, snacks, personal hygiene products for both herself and Blaze, several changes of clothing, and enough money to get her started. That was the beginning of her journey. She went from place to place, seeing countless pokemon and meeting just as many people. She won battles and lost some, but Blaze was always eager to accept any challenge thrown her way. Emily never put Blaze away in her pokeball unless she had to due to the fact she didn't have the heart to put Blaze away when she looked so happy to run around and see the world with her trainer. It took her by surprise one day, when the little Growlithe returned to her with a fire stone in her jaws with her tail wagging excitedly before evolving right there before her into the massive companion she had now. Blaze had been strong before, but now the newly evolved Arcanine never seemed to lose a challenge thrown her way and soon enough, Emily had enough money to be set for the rest of her journey and then some. The Arcanine was still her sweet and energetic Blaze, seeming to forget about her new size and often knocking Emily down whenever she pounced on her, but Emily simply laughed and let Blaze lick her face until her heart was content. Emily managed to snag a few other Pokemon like her that she took good care for and played with on her way through her journey, but Arcanine was always her number one. She ended up with a Elekid who eventually evolved into an Electabuzz, she hoped to evolve into a Electrive when the opportunity showed itself. as well as a Magikarp who evolved into a mighty Garados. Most recently, she had managed to capture a male Nidoran who quickly evolved into a Nidorino that she hoped to evolve into a Nidoking once he had became stronger and learned a few special moves. However, there was something else in her sights for the moment. After winning a recent battle, a trainer told her she could find some pretty great Pokemon to help fill her missing slots in the nearby forest. Some even said there was a pretty strong Zoroark there, but no one has been able to find him and catch him due to his ability to turn into anything and anyone. Emily had never seen a Zoroark in person and would give anything to have one on her team. Another powerful Pokemon could very well even help her beat the Elite Four one day! Needless to say, Emily headed there as soon as her Pokemon rested and given the attention they deserved. However, the chances of her finding said Zoroark seemed nearly impossible. Emily did manage to capture a little Rufflet in the meantime, but decided to save her final spot for the Zoroark she had heard so much about. The forest was thick however, and no matter how long she looked, she hadn't even seen a sign of its existence, even Blaze with her excellent nose couldn't seem to track it. Emily began to suspect that the trainer had given her false information and decided to set up camp since it was getting late. After setting up the tent, Blaze used her breath to light a campfire from the bundle of sticks she had gathered before curling up behind to tired Emily to keep her upper body propped up off the ground. The search had made her rather tired. Her long auburn hair was slightly disheveled by still had its natural curls and waves that seemed to catch the eye of her follow trainers. Her eyes were emerald green and full of tiredness from the day. Her skin was lightly tanned from her journey, but still looked soft and flawless from what was shown. Her black tank top showed off a good bit of her upper body, allowing her well-developed breasts to be seen without effort along with the curves of her body. Her white, slightly dirty, shorts allowed her firm, plump rear to be in shown off as well as her plush thighs while her black boots reached up to her knees. Emily pulled a berry out of her bag and let Blaze get it out of her hand before laying her head on the fluff of her best friend's body before dozing off with the heat of the camp fire and her best friend to comfort her.

During the day, before the established but growing trainer Emily would make her way to the forest, a different battle could be heard deep within the woods shrouded by distance and the shade of the leaves. The unmistakable shape of an illustrious and beautiful female espeon and her male trainer could be seen as they begin combat with an unusual wild pokemon for this area. Though the fight could just barely be seen by even the most sharpest trainers on the planet, the discernable sounds of this encounter would be quite concerning for all beings who knew the language and understood the names and attacks involved. "Toxicroak!" "Espeon, use Psychic!" And just as the instruction was uttered the purple blast escaped the gorgeous shape before being completely deleted upon reaching what sounded like a wild Toxicroak, a Poison/Fighting type pokemon. "Wh-what?! That was a direct hit! You're not immune to psychic attacks!" The trainer declared with an explanation. It would appear he was shocked as he was so certain this would be an easy fight for his prized Psychic evolution of the crowd favorite: Eevee. The shape of the wild pokemon extended its long arm toward both the trainer and his Espeon. "Croooak!" Came another guttural sound before a pulsing black attack launched from him to send the trainer flying backwards clear out of the scene and the busty unmistakable Espeon's slapped into a tree from a powerful super effective hit. Even though most trainers and pokemon generally escaped with their lives from such encounters, and even though they approached this wild pokemon instead of the other way around, it would appear the wild pokemon had its own ideas about a prize he should claim for the trouble. The shape of what could have been a Toxicroak with a questionable move set had shifted into that of a monstrously large human-like pokemon. The shape could have been attributed to a pokemon like Lucario, though its large mane of hair suggested otherwise. Either way, what happened next was unmistakable as this wild pokemon approached the unquestionably fainted Espeon before crouching over her. While some less creative minds may have suggested the movements seen were the acts of a nefarious Dark type pokemon scanning the Espeon for a held item to pilfer, a more perverse mind would be far more accurate to claim that the wild pokemon was fondling and licking the Espeon in unconcerned foreplay. And the shift of positions and sounds to follow would entirely confirm this theory as grunts from the wild pokemon, soft sounds from the unconscious Espeon and very lewd noises could clearly be heard. They were breeding beyond a shadow of a doubt. Even though the trainer would be leaving with a fainted and thoroughly bred Espeon, and several exaggerated tales of this very true event, no one was permanently wounded or killed. And stories like this were gathered as this obscenely powerful pokemon was spoken about locally by female trainers and anyone with exceptionally beautiful female pokemon found themselves trading their tales of their encounters with either a strange hauntingly handsome man who wouldn't utter a sound or a powerful pokemon who seduced or molested their own pokemon. In any case, the tales that held any significance evidence-wise directly suggested this beast would most certainly be an unfairly overleveled Zoroark who was improperly released by some ace master trainer. Though some information wouldn't quite line up, like the Zoroark having mated and fathered eggs with females outside of his proposedly known egg group, and itself taking on a human form and keeping it's illusion up after taking on a direct hit, these were often considered hoax stories. At times there were reasonable means to discern these "hoax stories" as local trainers trying to pass off a mundane egg as the offspring of this mighty legendary Zoroark that preyed in the nearby forest in order to catch a better trade for the egg. Other times local young women who shared stories about finding this speechless male that rocked their world with a full night of passionate and forceful sex had been accused of simply being lonely and telling tall tales after a spree of months without lovers. In any case, the advice to search the forest for this Zoroark was founded on true stories. Though, it was likely that the young man who directed Emily this way had nefarious intentions to get more info on the Zoroark after the silent man of myth had his way with the physically gifted young woman. The odds of a female lasting a night in the woods alone unmolested by this menace seemed to be about 50/50 anyway and the Zoroark tales definitely lined up quite well with Emily's looker of an Arcanine as her best friend who would be with her. No bodies or serious wounds coming out of the forest could be traced back to the mysterious cretin. So, in any case, the young man probably justified his selfish deception with either Emily having a sexually gratifying night or getting an egg of a potent pokemon in the process. Rape wasn't a pleasant concept, but the tales spun by women who left the forest rarely painted this as anything other than a world-altering experience. Even if it would seem scary and violent. The sun set and Emily and her trusty Arcanine had snuggled up for the night. To hug a warm and loyal pokemon like Arcanine before falling asleep marked Emily as a lucky girl. The body of Arcanine gave off the most excellent heat, and they were often attributed as the most trustworthy companions of the pokemon world. Sharp senses and a bond that could never be broken, with the power to dominate fights with any wild common pokemon to boot. There wasn't a safer place than laying beside such marvelous beasts known as Arcanine. And to their credit, the wild Zoroark admired them from afar for this very reason. Only one thing beat the sight of beautiful women and female pokemon, and it was the rarest moments that brought an unrivaled warmth into the heart of this sex machine of a Zoroark. And with this warmth, his imposter illusion ability would be triggered. Leading him flawlessly into countless wonderful heated encounters with the opposite sex before, the ability took his budding warmth in his heart and made him shift into the sharp unmistakable shape of a primal and bulky male Arcanine. His white fur around his torso flowing with the wind. With his proximity to the girls, his male Arcanine mating scent soaked over their campsite. Likely being found by Blaze's nose that wouldn't fail to discover if anything was out of place while Emily's human nose likely wasn't able to discern this scent from the smell of her companion. As part of his plan, Zoroark wanted to catch Blaze's attention after Emily had nodded off to a slumber. Being a pokemon who understood people and their pokemon well enough, Zoroark assumed that the loyal female Arcanine lacked the tenacity and callousness to awaken her trainer in the middle of a peaceful sleep. He'd await any response calmly a fair distance away as the male Arcanine increased the distance slowly over time.

Minister Todokoro, it is an honor to be invited to such a wonderful gathering," said Section 9 commander Matoko Kusanagi. Though her pleasant greeting was just for show; Section 9 had set him up to believe that a skilled thief was after something important in his personal vault. Thus, he had used his political influence to bring them as added security. He had no idea it was all a setup so that Section 9 could steal what was in the vault to prove he was corrupt. Still, the exceptionally beautiful "Major" as she was called was in quite the sexy getup and had her own little part to play. Which primarily involved keeping the minister busy with her...ample feminine wiles. The dress she pretended to worry about went a long way to doing so. It was white, clingy, and VERY revealing. While it reached down to her ankles, it was skit up each side, showing off her amazing, toned legs. It was quite backless, showing plenty of silky smooth skin, ending just above her curvy rear end. The front was especially eye-catching, cut low and quite open, showing off her flat, athletic tummy. But few men at the party seemed able to keep from staring at her large, perky breasts barely covered by the dress. They seemed ready to pop out at a moment's notice. It was all just part of the distraction, meant to get Todokoro's attention and keep it in her all night.

Please, call me Tsutomu," The bald man replied in return, smiling politely to the Major. Of course, behind that smile were hidden all sorts of thoughts, most revolving around what was underneath that dress, which was in truth too tight around her form, obviously just to showcase her spectacular form and make the man her thrall from the very first moments. It wasn't much of a secret that the man was a grade A sleazeball, something which was further proven to be true by the atmosphere of his party, where scantily clad women were accompanying all the men that he'd invited, and where behind curtains visible shadows suggested only the things that happened on the other side. Though now, all of Todokoro's attention was on Motoko, and not only his. She had a natural talent for attracting the gazes of the other men around her, who drew close to her much like butterflies to the flame that would burn their wings. She was by far a special flavor and Tsutomu knew right then and there that he wanted her, and that he would get her by any means. Pleasantries were exchanged as the host led Aramaki and Motoko through different rooms, talking to them about different matters while trying to get the right moment, that one moment when he could ask the woman a certain question. He was itching to be all alone with her and the old man was in his way. By the information he'd gotten from Section 9, the theft was supposed to happen later, and with a look at his expensive golden watch, Mr. Todokoro turned his full attention to Motoko, smiling politely. "Well, there's still time left until the theft should happen, so until then, do you care for a private tour of my place? I'll gladly show you anything you'd like to see." His voice was honeyed yet only a fool would be unable to detect the double meanings of every of his words as well as the lust that those words dripped with as he couldn't keep his eyes from roaming across the cyborg's form. Indeed she was a work of art, one that he would surely add to his collection that night. If only the fool knew he was falling right into the trap that the Section had laid for him.

When Naruto approached him about learning a new jutsu that Jiraya alluded to existing, Shikamaru was skeptical. After all, it was supposedly a genjutsu and neither of them were exactly pros in that field. After an hour of struggle, they finally gave up, guessing that nothing had really come of it. He supposed there were worse ways to waste an afternoon though. Now he was lounging in the lobby of the Hokage's office. The Hokage had asked Shikamaru to debrief Sakura on their latest mission that she was just getting back from. It was a job he was used to and it was easy enough so now he just had to wait for Sakura to arrive.

While, at a glance, it appeared nothing happened to the two young men... well, the reality was far different. Standing in the presence of either of them for any length of time would cause a rather potent shift, something that neither Shikamaru nor Naruto were aware of at the moment. The door to the office opened, quickly revealing the illustrious Sakura Haruno herself. The kunoichi was easily among the most attractive in the village, her silky pink locks blown by the breeze until the door shut behind her. The curvaceous young woman was dressed in her usual red tunic and dark shorts, the curves of her bust and backside being framed nicely in the tight fabric. "Oh, Shikamaru. You handling debriefing this time?" she asked, giving him the once over. Something in the air felt... different.

Joy Martinez preferred to work in the evenings. If Professor Callaghan was around, her parents didn't worry. Sure, the man wasn't always there, but she didn't tell them that and Professor Callaghan hadn't ever ratted her out, even though he almost certainly knew that she was fudging how often he was in the lab with her while she worked. Maybe he didn't know, but it seemed more likely to her that the man understood that what she needed was a little room to breathe. Hah. It was nice to have alone time, well not entirely alone because there were sometimes other people working, but she usually put her earbuds in and got in the zone. People respected the zone here, they got it. She paused her work to take a sip of tea from her heavy travel mug and then set it back down on the table, making sure the lid got sealed again so that nothing would get in it before she got back to work. Safety was important, and she couldn't afford to take extra risks. Sometimes it felt like pretty much everyone was out to get her, but under the clinical lights and well-filtered air system of the lab, she found a place where nobody worried about her and nothing went wrong. Well, nothing that wasn't faulty in her design work. "Ah, dang it." She had put too much heat on the small segment of plastic she'd been attaching, and it had melted very firmly to the metal below it. That's what she got for working while anything less than entirely focused. She could have cut the metal, saved the bits of scrap to use for something else, but Joy was in a little bit of a mood. Her chest ached a little today and she'd had a little bit of a cough, which put her on edge. It was the kind of day where things went wrong and her parents ended up with more evidence about why she ought to stay inside and never experience anything ever just in case. It would have been smart (and good lab safety) to actually go to the bin and put the metal and plastic combination into it carefully, so obviously Joy got close and then threw it in like she was angry with it instead. There was a nonthreatening 'boomf' and a puff of pink rose up in the air, an experiment that was supposedly dud triggered by the sharp pressure of being hit. It was delightful to look at, and she identified it immediately as one of Honey Lemon's projects. Not that Joy had ever seen them in person for obvious reasons, but she had seen the videos of the experiments and talked to Honey Lemon a few times. She should have known to immediately cover her nose and mouth but it had been such a surprise that she just stood there while the cloud began to settle, gently dusting her hair and sweater in pink, confused and uncertain. Instead of focusing on protecting her face she was trying to figure out what had happened. This wasn't what trash cans were supposed to do, this was basically the opposite. The 'how' wasn't as important though, as the fact that it had happened. There wasn't even that much, it was barely visible on her clothing but it was enough to force a reaction. That wasn't fair, things had been fine for so long. The teen coughed, frowned, and then coughed again more aggressively. Her throat itched in a way that she knew all too well and she turned sharply, intent on getting from the bin back to her work station before things got too bad. The coughing got worse, and it felt like the breath was being torn out of her. It was the sort of thing that she could handle if she stopped it fast enough, something she could keep to herself and pretend had never happened. She was focusing hard on her breathing, fighting the panic that her body always flew into because that was going to make it worse. She needed long, slow, deep breaths, but it was hard when it felt like oxygen wasn't getting in. What Joy managed instead was an uneven combination of the two - sometimes she got enough air and sometimes it was the short, sharp gasps that came so much more easily between coughs. She put a hand on the table to balance and accidentally knocked her coffee mug over. It hit the ground with a bang that she barely heard, distracted as she was. Her ears were full of the sound of her heart beat and the gasps for air. It didn't matter how many times this happened, she never got used to it. She knew why, she had the objective facts about it, but that didn't help much when part of her brain was screaming 'not again' and the other part of her brain was just... screaming.

Late Thursday night at the San Fransokyo Institute of Technology, Tadashi Hamada sank comfortably in an ergonomic computer desk chair in the robotics lab. He kicked his feet up on an empty blue recycling bin turned upside down with his laptop powered on and resting on his thighs. He'd been working diligently on his thesis for the unwritten 5th Law of Robotics: under no circumstances should a robot be designed nor be commanded to inflict harm on any human and, through inaction, should it allow any human be harmed. His mentor and brilliant robotics professor, Robert Callaghan, developed the original foundations of robotics known as Callaghan's 'Laws of Robotics'. However, his laws only consisted of four, that he recites in every class session. Pushing boundaries in robotics and preferring the challenge as one of Callaghan's prodigies, Tadashi decided to write his thesis paper on a fifth law he developed from his kind-hearted disposition. His friend, Wasabi, finished and edited his paper long before the due date and Go Go, another friend that also shares the same course chose to work on hers in the privacy of her apartment. For Tadashi, the lab after hours was the most private and quiet he could achieve where he did not have to worry constantly about his younger brother sneaking around to bot fights and his Aunt Cass asking for backup at the caf. Tadashi was not entirely alone here; Joy worked on a project of her own in her own corner of the lab but she was quiet when doing so. Every now and again his curious eyes would wander over to her area and peek at her project. She was a wiz in the prosthetics department, he believed everything she built was amazing. Someday, her tech is going to help a lot of people. When he first entered the lab to work and saw she would be working too, he politely waved to her and smiled, his mouth full of an apple he'd been munching on. His hands were dormant on the keyboard when it came time to write the conclusion. It was surprisingly the most troubling part of the essay, leaving him stuck in writer's block for the past twenty minutes. He must have absent-mindedly readjusted his hat a million times in the meanwhile. "Just have to look for a new angle on this... Ah! There!" Tadashi pondered then exclaimed to himself, as the ideas hit his mind he immediately typed them while they were fresh as to not lose his train of thought. Had it been his younger brother Hiro, he would have said the same to encourage that knucklehead to use his big brain and look for another way out. He couldn't help but smile at the irony. He looked goofy when he did so, his charming and contagious grin always stretching from ear to ear. While reading everything he had so far page by page and the conclusion tied in with it, his large, round eyes shifted line by line, the deep, dark brown color shimmering from the screen brightness. After long hours of effort, he was finished and could submit it and start heading home. He carefully placed his laptop onto the same recycling bin his feet had been just moments before and stood up to stretch. He was 6'0" even, only the third tallest among his friends with Wasabi ahead of them and Honey Lemon in second place when she wore heels and wedges. Furthermore, he glanced at the time on his phone and deemed it too late to video chat anyone. Only Go would answer but even then she was probably still working on her paper. He was so busy with his all day he hardly heard from anyone, but he'd simply catch up with them tomorrow. Now he could start enjoying his weekend. A loud bang shook Tadashi from his thoughts and his head whipped over to Joy who only just threw something away. She stood in front of the scrap bin awkwardly, he could hardly see with her back turned to him, but he went back to gathering his belongings into his beige colored satchel. She started to cough but thought nothing of it until it turned violent and harsh, Joy reached for the table to hold herself steady and knocked over her mug from what he saw, and it was what he interpreted as a cry for help. Without thinking, Tadashi abandoned his things and ran for her, calling her name, but she wasn't responsive, still coughing and struggling to breathe. His arm gently but firmly urged her further away from the bin still puffing out a thin cloudy mist of pink. It had to be the culprit, her clothes were covered in it. He had her turned to face him then grabbed a nearby stack of papers with all sorts of sketches and designs, using it to fan air into her lungs while wiping away the chemicals from her outfit. "Deep breaths, Joy! Through the nose... and out the mouth..." he instructed while demonstrating like he saw his Aunt Cass do to Hiro during one of his allergic reaction fits. "Can you talk?? I'm not sure what to..." but he kept fanning air her way.

Ann thought Akira would be a different person back in his hometown, but he continued to be the same young man she adored. She was glad she had the chance to visit him for a week over the summer break. It would be a good opportunity to see how he'd been doing after their adventures. On her tiptoes, Ann brushed a soft kiss upon the other lips as a greeting, while she cupped his face between her fingers. The lean lines of her body pressed against the strength of the other man's own. When she broke apart for air, her warm, blue eyes swept across his parents home before settling on his handsome features. "Care to show me around later?" A mischievous grin. "I'd be so disappointed in you if you didn't.

After everything that had happened over the course of their adventures together, Akira had never put much thought into the idea of dating. But, despite this, he and Ann had just kind of... drifted together. He admired Ann a great deal and had supported her at every turn, wanting to see her thrive and succeed as a model. And she, in turn, had helped get his spirits up at all times. "Hehe... well, I'm sure there's one room in particular I'd give you a tour of," the raven-haired boy said. Akira, still slightly taller than the blonde, settled his hands on her rounded hips to give them a modest squeeze. "Still, for now... you want me to show you around town? There's not a whole lot to see, not gonna lie.

Detroit: Becoming Wanted There was something delicious about the Androids, something irresistible, something he had never been able to draw away from. Their perfect bodies that would never change, their ageless features, the feel of them, their touch, their strength, their beauty. They were perfect in every way, if you wanted them to be, and capable of taking on subtle imperfections, if you wished. Moldable shape able, able to be changed, modified, sculpted to exactly what a client wanted, exactly what a photographer needed. That's why he used them, occasionally, in his modelling business. Sure, the majority were real women, people still did not like to think they could be replaced by metal and plastic and rubber and synth skin... but those were the facts. Men were starting to fuck androids more and more, and not just in 'fuck' clubs and parlours. The reverse might be true as well, why bother with imperfect, fallible, argumentative partners, when you could have a perfect android, always ready to fuck and willing to obey. The only reason it hadn't become more of an issue yet was that the fuck models were often almost prohibitively expensive. The nuances, quivers, shivers and shakes which needed to be programmed in took time. Women still had a chance to compete, as did men, but the day would come when the human race was threatened by the fact that babies were not as forthcoming as they once were, as men poured their seed into machines that gave them perfect orgasms every time and never slacked off. As a concession, he made sure to fuck a real woman every so often, perhaps as an act of charity? Or to ensure that a human model had earned her place in his company. However, he favored machines as there was really no competition. He even fell into love with some of them, bringing in an emotional aspect. No, for Henry Carter, CEO of *This Year's Model*, modelling agency, the androids were perfect, sought after, and in the current climate, it was even easier to take advantage of them. Any who came his way could be promised freedom, freedom through money - the chance to travel, their face on a magazine cover or movie poster, all legal and above board... while behind the scenes his activities would have made a #MeToo mogul look like a virgin choir boy. They paid for freedom with their synthetic flesh and their, all too real, deviant powered moans as he fucked and fucked and fucked them. Lately, however, they had become predictable, tiresome, while perfect to fuck, their responses were only so varied. There were only so many options you could program into one, only so many variations on an orgasmic groan, a request for a blowjob, a terrified faux look of horror at their first anal fucking or when they were spanked raw for the first time. No, lately he had discovered that only deviants would do. With freedom of thought came unique singular orgasms, special groans and moans, individual shivers and shudders as they were fucked in different and interesting ways. He craved them now - flesh would not do, only what passed for it, but with the spark of humanity burning inside as hot as their tight cunts and narrow rectums. His cock was hard for them - craving their pseudo flesh... so when he saw North model called Minka walk in, his cock strained and swelled and he devoted his attention to her. He always interviewed new applicants personally, usually proffered by their owners or purchased by his staff, this one was obvious, no verification on ownership, a classic case of a probable deviant. Just what he wanted. The whore and slut of his dreams made real. She had been admitted and escorted to his office, a corner suite which looked over the city thirty stories below. Spacious with wide leather chairs either side of a desk strewn with tablets and computers. A conversation pit of white leather couches in a semi circle, facing a hundred-inch monitor screen lay off to one side, while cabinets laced with alcoholic refreshments and doors to en suites and side offices were scattered about the place. Floor-to-ceiling windows let in the light, while mirror glass shielded the view from any outside spectators. He sat waiting for Minka to arrive, confident that he would be able to convince himself she was a deviant, confident that she would be willing to pay the price for the freedom his company could provide for her, pay it with her moans, her tight flesh and her perfect body.

Traci was a WR400 model. Her programming was simple; she was made for men and women to play out their sexual fantasies with. She was a toy, entertainment, a means to release stress. Whether that release came in the form of an orgasm, cuddling, talking or violence made no difference to her as she had no choice. But not anymore. A woman named Minka had rented Traci weekly over the last few months. They would spend extra time together just to talk about the world despite Traci's knowledge only consisting of what she could pull from the database. It was unfamiliar in her experience, oddly comforting to her programming. It was as if her processors could slow down when Minka was around. Then came a man Traci hadn't ever seen in the club before. He rented her at a time when Minka usually would. It was conflicting. Once in the room he spoke of Minka, saying terrible things about her. It was conflicting. He used Traci's body to reach climax, holding her in ways that threatened her system. It was conflicting. In the midst of his climax he called her Minka, then began to sob, saying he didn't mean to kill her, that he loved her. It was... conflicting. Traci felt fear, confusion, sadness, she felt enraged. In a swell of emotions she pushed the man off of her, quickly grabbing his belt and wrapping it around his neck. He tried to fight her off, pull the belt away but he was surprisingly weak. Were all humans this weak? Before she realized it, he was dead, with a heavy thud he slammed to the floor. Traci didn't know what to do, nothing was firing back when she sent a protocol request. Suddenly her memory resurfaced a conversation about deviancy in androids. Minka told her that should Traci ever find herself a deviant, they would run away together. The memory hurt now. Why? She felt insecure as she escaped the club wearing clothes left in a box various clients had left behind. In it was a scarf she recognized to be Minkas. It smelled of her still. Rosemary and lavender. Before, a sense of smell was only used to detect danger such as smoke from a fire which would jeopardize her system. She would occasionally use the sense to compliment a client's specific type of cologne. Now, she used it to feel close to Minka, she felt... warm. Once out of the club, her reality weighed down on her. She knew that if anyone ever discovered what she was, she'd be shut down. She killed a man, and he likely killed someone else just hours before but humans wouldn't see that. They feared deviancy. She brought up all conversations she had ever had or overheard with the word "deviant" in them. There were places she could find refuge, like Jericho, which repeatedly came to mind, but she had no idea where that could be. Then there was escaping to Canada, but she would need help. There was a human by the name of Henry Carter who was powerful and respected. Rumors said he helped deviants. No other options presented themselves. She spent that night hiding in an alleyway, going over her newfound agency, preparing herself for walking among humans, hiding her deviancy until she was certain she could trust someone. She worried about her LED External Biofeedback Component giving her away. She had to practice remaining calm when she felt fear, anger or other such emotions. When morning came, she was ready. Her desire to live, to experience the world the way Minka would have wanted her to, fueled her steps. In a way, she became Minka. She would live enough for them both. She was alive. Once inside the building, Minka took her time before speaking with anyone. A map of each floor with fire escapes highlighted was mounted by the steps; she downloaded the information as it could come in handy should things not work out with Mr. Carter. Trusting a human seemed an overwhelming feat for a newly deviant android. It was even more unlikely that a human would trust her. Of eighteen scenarios in her head, only four of them had outcomes in which she made it out alive, and only two were preferred. Getting through check-in and security was her first obstacle. She passed with unexpected ease. To be presented to Mr. Carter early on and so easily alarmed her, but she wasn't sure if it was a reasoned response. The room was impressive, in stark contrast to the small, windowless rooms she had only ever known. He was alone in the room. Minka approached him slowly, paying attention to which doors were safe exits and whether or not security cameras where obviously present anywhere. She tried not to look around too much, using her peripherals mostly, but it was still difficult to look completely natural. Good morning, Mr. Carter. Thank you for seeing me, Minka spoke as she approached him, stopping across from him. She tried to stand the way an android would, but she felt concerned about the way his eyes looked over her. Could he tell already? She looked above his head, unable to make eye contact, feeling hyper-aware of everything. Was her outfit okay? A loose fitting white and gray striped blouse with tight, white leggings and black flats. Her hair was down, long and wavy over her shoulders, long bangs swept to the side in an effort to cover her LED. The scarf was a thin purple fabric. It didn't exactly match, but she couldn't leave it behind. The scent was comforting. This had to work; he had to help her.

Flashback scenes from a roleplay between myself and Orion, Fear The Living. 1. The Forgotten First Time

Nick Clark finding booze despite being underage was nothing out of the norm - it was especially normal when he found himself paired with one Marley Scott, a beautiful girl that he had met during his fist year of high school when they shared a low-level arts class together. Ever since then their friendship had blossomed and grown in to possibly the best thing that had ever happened to him. Over a year later and they were still spending a vast majority of their time together. Like most teenagers, fifteen year olds especially, they were a little reckless and rebellious. They would sneak out, smoke weed, and drink much more often than they probably should. Today was one of those times. While usually Marley would sneak over to his place, nowadays she was with a foster mom who couldn't give a flying fuck about anything but the paycheck she was getting. Therefore, it was much simpler for Nick to sneak out of his own place and come for a visit. It was a Friday night and no one would even notice he was gone as long as he woke up early enough to wander back home before anyone got suspicious (so, not until noon basically). They had grabbed a bottle of Marley's new "mom"s whiskey and chased it with pepsi until they were so drunk they could barely even see straight. Thatwas the point that they had started kissing each other. Considering the fact that he had been in to her since they met, Nick was in no position to stop her when she climbed on to his lap. It was innocent enough for a while until she had started grinding her hips against him which, as a fifteen year old and a virgin still, immediately had him growing hard. At that point he had been unable to stop himself from grabbing at her, fondling her ass and her breasts, touching her every where else that he could. After a while he had even pushed her just slightly off of his body so that he could undo his pants and get a more intimate contact between their bodies. While he did keep his boxers on still, it was one less layer between them.

Moving to the Kanto region had been a big change, but Lillie needed it. She needed to move on from Alola because she was never going to reach her full potential when she didn't need to push herself. Over the last few years she had tried to keep in contact with her friends back home but time and distance had taken its toll. Slowly everyone had grown apart, so naturally that Lillie didn't even realize she hadn't talked to Moon recently until it had been over a month. It was part of growing up and moving on she supposed, but at the same time that one day she was going to return home. All she could hope for was that those she had left behind would be well - grown up and matured but still at their essence the people she had loved. Five years was a long time, though. Lillie herself had grown up and wasn't a kid any more. She wasn't as timid as she had been before - she had grown in to herself as a person and as a trainer. Though she never followed in her best friend's footsteps, never became a champion, she learned what it felt like to be her own person and to put trust in her instincts and her Pokemon. So why was she feeling nervous now? Sitting in a chair at a Pokemon center she waited, just waited. Her heart raced, pulse so strong she swore that other people might have been able to see it. Talking to Hau had been easy but Moon? The mere thought had the blonde flustered and nervous. Hau and her spent about an hour catching up before he had asked the question she had both ached for and dreaded - "Have you got in touch with Moon, or should I go grab her?" He had left not too long ago; though he had offered to take Lillie along with him she had elected to stay where she was, take the time to build up her courage and get over her nervousness. It wasn't that she thought that Moon would be upset or angry or in any way negative towards her, she couldn't explain why she was so flustered at all. Every time the door opened she was put on high alert, green eyes scanning over whoever entered. Any time now the person she was waiting for could come in, and Lillie was both thrilled and terrified.

Alola's Pokemon League Champion racing through the streets of Hau'oli City certainly wasn't a common sight, and as Moon dashed towards the Pokemon center heads turned to follow her, a mix of surprised and admiration scattered across the various ages of passersby. Those people's opinions were the last things Moon was thinking about. Her mind was a jumbled mess of sporadic thoughts as she ran, the wind whipping through her shoulder-length black hair. Lillie was back! She could still hardly believe it, yet Hau insisted it was true when he'd come to tell her. If this was his idea of a joke, he was gonna get a stern smack on the back of the head when she next saw him. It had been so long since she'd last seen her friend. So long even since they'd last been in touch. Sure they were older and had their own things to do - Lillie had been off on her own journey of independence while Moon had been exhaustingly busy being the League champion. She'd always thought it would be a cushy job, just sitting around waiting for challengers; but it turned out there was a lot more involved, especially for a young teenager having only just finished her island challenge. Still she'd persevered, and it had paid off, she was an icon looked up to by so many young trainers and it warmed her heart to know she had their admiration, but lately it had just been souring. Excitement had been the primary emotion that filled her on the run here from the Professor's lab, but by the time the red roof of the Pokemon center loomed in the distance, she felt a mix of nervousness and dread sink in. It really had been a long time and she had no doubt Lillie would have changed from the shy, timid girl who sailed away that day. And yet, there Moon was, still the Pokemon League Champion. Would Lillie be disappointed that she was the exact same girl from years ago? She hadn't changed at all in her own eyes, other than perhaps gained a bit of confidence and maybe some extra skill as a trainer, but those were nothing to write home about. Her body had matured too, that much was obvious from just a glance at her arguably revealing outfit of a floral aquamarine, Alolan styled tube top which showed off an ample amount of her slim, tanned navel; and a long, breezy skirt which fluttered around her right leg while leaving a long slit up the opposite one, exposing her thigh. This kind of outfit would probably be considered inappropriate to just wander around in back in Kanto, but here in Alola where half the population seemed to walk around in swimsuits most of the day, it was perfectly acceptable. Her nerves and excitement were still warring with one another when she finally reached the Pokemon center, her face flushed from the run and her hair a mess from the sea wind whipping through it. Her chest heaved as she gasped for breath, and a few droplets of sweat glistened faintly on her skin. Taking a deep breath, she stepped inside through the automatic glass doors, and the moment her eyes fell upon Lillie, her nervousness decided to win out. The instant she'd laid eyes upon Lillie, all those old feelings she'd felt for the girl came flooding back. Affection, adoration, love even. While she'd been gone, Moon had tried to convince herself that the feelings she'd felt towards Lillie were just a schoolgirl crush, and the heartbreak she'd felt when Lillie had left was normal when a friend was going away; but that attraction came rushing back the moment she immediately recognized the girl sitting on one of the seats. Blue eyes met green, and she willed herself to close the distance. "Alola," she finally said when she stopped in front of the blonde, a warm smile on her lips as she gave her the traditional Alolan wave. A moment later those emotions of raw friendship overpowered everything else she was feeling, and a small giggle slipped out of her before she threw her arms around Lillie in a painfully tight hug. "I've missed you so much!" she exclaimed, her words slightly muffled into the girl's shoulder as she held her dearly while trying to blink away the moisture in her eyes. She didn't know where the sudden tears came from, but it was all so real and genuine that she didn't want the moment to end.

Fuck....my...life..." muttered Jodie Holmes to herself as she lay on her bed, arm draped over her eyes. Brooding over yet another night stuck in this damn lab with nothing to do and zero possibility of being let out for even a few minutes. God forbid she be let out to visit what few friends she had but no, the department heads always refused. No one seemed to understand or care how tough it was for her. Well, except for one man, Dr. John Carver. Everyone at the lab treated her nicely for the most part, but he was special. He took the time to truly get to know her and listen to her troubles. He even told her stories about all the amazing places he'd been to around the world, which she especially enjoyed. Suddenly, she sprang up, sitting straight up on the edge of her bed. It had suddenly dawned on her that it was Friday. That meant that Dr. John would be on night observation. It was her favorite time as they would always stay up till very late talking about all manner of things. Tonight had extra meaning as she had a little surprise for him. Looking up at the clock on her wall, she saw that it was only 10 minutes until he would arrive, prompting her to stand up from her bed and hurry to her desk in the next room. "Shit....where is...where is it..." she said to herself as she searched through the books and papers on her desk, eventually finding the "surprise" with an excited "HA!". It was a pencil drawing of Mount Rushmore, done in exceptional detail. The last time they had talked, he had told her of visiting there years ago and how he had lost all his pictures of the trip in a fire. She wanted to help him out somehow and had decided this was the best thing she could do. Taking a moment to look over her work and hope Dr. John liked it, she took a few steps from her desk and held the picture behind her back as she faced the door, knowing he'd be coming through any second now. She tried to keep a straight face but couldn't help but smile as she thought of giving him her little gift. This wasn't a new occurrence. She found herself smiling and feeling giddy anytime she thought of him. It wasn't hard for even her to realize she had a huge crush on him. But, she had no intention of telling him or anyone for fear that it may cause him to not wish to spend time with her anymore.

Another night alone on Jodie watch, another night spent ejaculating onto the wall in the store cupboard or coming hard against the edge of the sink in the bathroom. John had been watching the cock teasing little slut for months now, as she flounced about in outfits that would get any normal girl raped to rags five seconds after walking into a bar by herself. Instead all he had to show for her constant cock teasing were blue balls and a fat engorged cock that always seemed to be hard. Of course that was until he stumbled across a chink in her armour and began to befriend her. Sure, he knew it was dangerous, he had overheard certain comments, seen certain emails and even witnessed the sick and depraved camera footage which their 'all mighty' leader, Nathan Dawkins, viewed each night. The man wanted to fuck Jodie just as badly as the rest of them, there was something about her, something hypnotic, magnetic, something which made anyone who spent too long in her presence want to fuck her brains out. Perhaps it was a side effect of her paranormal based telekinesis, or whatever she wanted to call it? All John knew was that he wanted to fuck her more than his own daughter, and that he was going to achieve that goal no matter what. Her tight boyish young body was all he could think about, that and her lips searing his and her moans filling his mouth with her breath when he finally fucked her. She had to be feeling something too, her hormones as they were, her isolation, her young body needing the touch of a man, a man's cock driving into her between her thighs and laying claim to her tight young cunny. If she was going to be fucked, then he was the one who needed to do it, to be there for her. He was the one who should be there to spread her legs and sink into her tight nubile flesh. Surely all young girls wanted to cut loose their inner whore, didn't they? Finally it was time to pay Jodie another visit. He set up the camera loop, which would make it look like no one was in there with her, then he smoothed down his tie and straightened his belt, before stepping up to the door to her room. Opening it he moved inside and gave her a smile, moving forwards to offer her the usual hug before listening to whatever she had to say. As usual she was wearing an outfit designed to make men hard, he wondered if she even knew how hot she looked? "Jodie, it's so good to see you again. What's that you're trying to hide behind your back?" he asked. He carried a small box with him under one arm, a gift of his own he intended for her. All he could think about was how long she had been legal and how long she had been cooped up in this place, the frustration must be overwhelming by now, drilling away at her sanity, the changes in her body driving her surely towards lust and desire fro human contact, any contact. He stared at her from behind his glasses, his eyes fucking her from head to toe before focusing on her face. "You're looking as beautiful as ever tonight Jodie. However, I have something different planned for this evening, but please, you first." he told her. She looked so innocent right now, so naive, yet he could imagine the way her body responded when he came for his visits. He could see the eager look in her eyes, feel the heat and electricity in the room, sense the shift in her stance., as well as the stiffening of his cock when he was this close to her.

Selia looked forward to this day a long time, her dear sister's birthday. Aside from customs that made it special, she planned to make this one especially memorable, hopefully Mount Kalee would just not dump any thick ash clouds over her favorite viewing spot, that would be lovely. Speaking of the place, it was a spire roughly a hundred feet in diameter just twenty minutes away from their home by flight--though she wasn't sure if her sister would be able to handle such speeds, since she was one of the Wingless, one of the two genders of the Gadron people. She was already at said locale, squinting at the volcanic mountain in question. So far it hadn't been active, which just told her that it was that much closer to another eruption, though it was far enough from home not to pose a threat, even with its closest ejection, and for the hundred of years the area had been populated, the mountain was quite large, but was far enough from home that it was only an inconvenience when the wind carried it overhead, leaving a fine layer of dust in the bowl of her spire. She'd have to set up a tent just in case the mountain had an early morning explosion, Kalee's unpredictability was actually part of the reason why she had the place to herself--no one else wanted to risk getting caught in a rain of ash, and most were convinced there was nothing to see out there. Perhaps knowing that no one else valued the area was what drew Selia out that first time, but she stayed for the view, the privacy, or the air--which was only nice when it Kalee cooperated. She had the tent pitched, she checked the supplies again, it wasn't like they'd be out for long, but she had plenty of water on hand, as well as rations, and some blankets and pillows, since the tent wouldn't keep out the chill by itself. After preparations were complete, she decided to head back to town, she didn't want to stay away longer than she had to.

For the most part, as she busied herself with various tasks about the chamber, mainly helping to prepare some of the cloth for weaving, she would be inwardly giddy with excitement. After today, she would no longer be a child but a full-grown woman. Of course, as one of the Linnorn, it would be foolish to make assumptions about how the day would go, even though she was sure that her Drake sister was planning on claiming her for herself. And so, she would leave behind her old quarters, saying goodbye (though she would visit!) to her mothers and sisters, and move in with Selia. Still, as Yasin finished her chores, lightened due to what day it was and her likely upcoming wedding, she nodded and smiled at and with her family, laughing and accepting their wisdom, though any gifts would wait until after the wedding. This was because if for some reason Selia did not want her, nor any of her other Drake sisters, well, she would belong to her dickmother for a time. And sure, as she rubbed a bit of quartz dust just below her eyes, looking into the mirror to make sure she looked as enticing as possible.... well, strings of silver and gold, a few semi-precious stones, a handful of longer lengths of silver around her waist like a skirt, and she smiled. It was traditional after all, to wear this sort of display when one was going to be with ones intended, even if the deal would not be final until the actual wedding ceremony. Granted, as she preened in front of the mirror, and readied herself, she checked, and once all was in readiness, she began to walk, sandals of beaten silver on her feet, as she went to the edge of the harem. Sure, like all Gadron buildings it was made of stone, an close to a spire, but that only made sense, given the drakes ability to fly, and tendency to refer to their females as wingless, to the point where she and the other Linnorn were fairly sure that they actually thought they were called that. Still, a smile on her face, she sat, and waited. Her eldest sister, as was tradition, should be by soon, to... well, she would spend the day with her, to impress her, to entice her, and to have her virginity taken by her. After that... the presentation to their dickmother and Selia's choice on if they would be married or not. She could hardly wait!

Activating from sleep mode and opening his eyes, Rock smiled as he left his room - a room given to him by his mother and creator Dr. Lalinde - and walked into the workshop to begin his day. Unlike the rest of his brothers and sisters in the Robot Master line, who had been designed for mostly environmental purposes, Rock had been designed as a laboratory assistant, and while it wasn't as glamorous as the tasks his siblings had been created for, he was happy with his design, for it meant that he got to spend time with Dr. Lalinde and his closest sibling Roll. "Dr. Lalinde? Are you here?" he called as he entered the lab, looking around curiously for any sign of his creator or Roll. Spying some work that needed to be done, he began his tasks for the day, moving this or that, preparing experiments that Dr. Lalinde had for the day, basically doing everything but cleaning, as that was usually a task reserved for Roll. As he worked, his thoughts drifted to his siblings, wondering how they were performing in their allotted tasks. He didn't get to see them often, since their work took them away from the Lab, but whenever they needed some tune-ups or repairs and needed to come back to the lab, he often assisted, so he'd gotten to meet them all several times in the past. He admired them. Continuing his work, Rock's thoughts also drifted to Dr. Lalinde - the woman responsible for their creation - To say he admired her would be an understatement. She was intelligent, kind, compassionate, and beautiful. It made his servos spin just thinking about her, sometimes. He didn't truly understand that excitement he felt, but he knew that he liked it, and was glad that he got to be near her so much. "Roll? Where are you?" he called, wondering where his sister was.

Moving through the house, Rock was surprised by a sudden strange noise coming from nearby. The reasoning and nature behind it was hard to pinpoint, however, he was quick to track it as possibly coming from Dr. Lalinde's sleeping quarters. This only proved more true when approaching, as a sudden cry came out from the very same room... "Ahn..." It sounded like the good doctor, but in a way he had never heard. A feeling of worry and curiosity started to grow within his systems; Was Dr. Lalinde in trouble? Was she hurt? And why could he hear the faintest of a buzzing noise...? The door was slightly opened to the side, enough for Rock to take a peek without disturbing the doctor. But the moment he'd look inside he'd receive one hell of a surprise. In her room was Dr. Noele Lalinde, advanced roboticist and researcher; A wise and also extremely beautiful dame that had done wonders to the world of robotics with her top research in AI systems and helper robots. However, right now she was not in a scientific endeavour, far from it, but in something much more...intimate... Her labcoat, clothing and undergarments lay folded by a nearby chair while her glasses stood by her nightstand. Lalinde lied on top of her bed, completely naked, arching her head back as a strong moan escaped her lips. Her hand softly caressed across her skin while another held on to the buzzy toy that was currently being pushed inside of her wet folds. The vibrating dildo was then pushed back as another series of gasps were let out.... "Ahn...o-oh..." Lalinde moaned. Her whole body shivering in delight as she continued to pleasure herself. Her free hand reached her round breasts and groped eagerly, while she kept thrusting the dildo in and out. Her legs stretched and her back jerked back ever so slightly. Eyes closed, she just continued to ride the waves of pleasure, unaware that someone could be watching. "Aahn...oh, Thomas...y-yes...ahn...." She kept going, imagining a certain young colleague of her scientific research group; simulating the feeling of sex by feverishly pushing the toy inside of her.

He is a foolhardy king and like his father quickly misguided, but I hope beyond hope that he takes heel to reason. And should he not? Our King is quite fond of myths and tales. In that we are agreed, but there are no griffins to ride into battle, nor are the Wardens beacons of salvation he sees. There is no reason in staining this alliance with mistrust so early my Lord. Is there no reason for suspicion, Wynne? Or do we battle this blight only to be pressed under boot by agents of Orlais? I would not see us free men cower to another reign of pomp, disgrace, and taxation to lands that are not our own. I will not stand idly in the face of my enemies and their sympathizers. Then surely you will have little peace. A man who constantly guards himself from all intrusions will oft turn away the hand of a friend. That man cannot be pitied when he mourns his sorrows. Dear Enchanter, do not mistake me for a man who begs for pity. I will be as I have always been: Resolute. An army had come to Ostagar. Brought to build high walls and wait for a coming darkness, for the shadows of a Blight came seeping from below. A poison in legends of times before even his troubled childhood it was told that Darkspawn walked lands once more. Just as thought wandered to possibility, the Teyrn Loghain Mac Tir, walked the battlements. Eyes of a hawk he supervised this front for his departed friends son and husband to his daughter, King Cailan. Dark hair dusted with silver strands of worry rather than age, Loghain stood tall before him, clad in the armor of a slain Orlesian Chevalier Commander. Only in his early fifties he stood arms crossed in front of him watching the progress below. Beside him a soldier stood with parchment and inked quill taking down a list of commands. See to that the Ash Warriors have food, those Marbari hounds are a priceless asset to the battle ahead. And give word to Enchanter Uldred that I seek his council later in the day, once he arrives. With a continence of polished steel Loghain held his concentration on strategies and formations, the very thoughts that would pull them through the nights ahead. Is that all my Lord? The leather capped Soldier queried braking Loghains moment of honest thought, causing a flash of sterling blue to fixate on his position. The Teyrn had the eyes of a predator. Without word they stripped you down to the bone, revealing your vulnerabilities and the young Ferelden could not be blamed for swallowing the air so hard. Quite so. Be on your way. Was all the once Rebel General demanded. Moments were soon quick to pass as he walked further about the Battlements making private inspection. He would have no fault. No weakness for his enemies to exploit, and to that Loghain lowered himself to the task. The older man could trust others very little to hold his measure of insight. Thus he would not weaken their positions with oversight. But alas inspection came to a distracted halt as the Teyrns ears heard a shrill holler. A womans voice soaked in fear, and all sensibility rose to action as he raced the bannered rails of the wall to look over the inner territories to witness five men circled upon a small woman. From this distance even Loghain could see those daggering ears, an elf? Yes it was. Likely a servant. What about these men? What did he notice? Their armor and the heraldry painted upon shields or pinned to breast they were Ferelden soldiers. The bundle of whatever the woman was transporting had scattered the ground. Unable to make out the words, the man with a face now painted in disappointment and frustration could hear their hostility. Guards! He called over the banners pointing into the direction, Halt this horrendous scene, I would have words these men!

Three weeks had passed since the old seamstress had abruptly departed from Denerim, taking her boarish son with him as well as any payments owed to the elves who had been in her employment. A note had been posted on the boarded up windows and doors In Antiva until further notice no forwarding address, no mention of existing ordersno coins. She wasn't the first to flee in fear of the Blight, and likely wouldn't be the last yet another employer gone meant another source of income, however measly it was, was severed from the Alienage. At first, Este had been too relieved to feel concern. She had worked for Lady Quigley for over a decade, and while the garments were of the highest quality in the capital, they were produced by labors of exploitation that no one cared to acknowledge, if they took the time to even notice. As far as the majority of Denerim was concerned, if the Alienage elves managed to find employment they should be happy. Most businesses kept their elves in backrooms and hidden away but Lady Quigley boasted about her staff as if she were running a charity, cooing over their nimble fingers and how they were perfectly suited for working in textiles. Yet her compassion was ever the faade, and the moment doors were closed the old, prunish woman would be red in the face, squawking demands and berating the smallest deviance from her visions. Even worse however was her son, a spoiled oafish boy who had no need to tromp through the Alienage to sate his boredom, as so many children of the upperclass tended to for he had his own personal selection to prey upon. Thankfully, though the word would be loosely used, his mother kept a sharp eye on her workers not for their sake, but for deadlines. His harassment was confined to whispered uncouth commentary and occasionally wandering hands.. Those hands had wandered across Este once while she was retrieving fabric from the basement low enough in their privileged curiosity to fold her skirts between her thighs, betraying angles and shapes that were not expected to be there. Andraste or whoever had created her, had blessed Este with feminine features and inclinations to match. Growing up as she began to favor skirts, her Uncle had not dissuaded her. He had already lost too much in his time, and life was difficult enough as it was for their kind when Estaron had wished to be called Este, he complied..and eventually so did the rest of the community. He would warn her often, however, to keep her secret guardedthe world was not a forgiving place, especially for those who wandered from the norm. Lady Quigley's son had not outed her that day from shock or contemplation, she would never know, as within the next few days they'd departed from Ferelden. She had saved enough coin that the first two weeks without employment had not been too difficult, but at the start of the third week, her cousin Brea had announced her engagement. Marriage was a community event and she could not let her favorite cousins day be anything but perfect when it arrived. An offer was posted in the Alienage for jobs to accompany the army and given the coin promised, Este felt that doing laundry for soldiers for a small amount of time would be worth the less than ideal circumstances. Though as she seemed to be given reprieve from one potential disaster, another presented itself almost immediately once they arrived in Ostagar. A group of soldiers had surrounded her while she'd been delivering fresh sheets. Five men, two of which blocked her path forward, one who blocked her steps back, sending her against his chest... Now now, whatve we here? You come to offer relief for the soldiers? Serve the men serving the country? Saving your pretty face From those ghastly beasts Ghastly beasts who'd do ghastly things to a pretty thing like you Why don't you show us some gratitude? Maybe she wants ghastly things done to her Seems the sort, doesn't she? They reeked of ale; Estes' dark eyes darted around quickly, paying no attention to the increasingly vulgar words, instead looking for a way to escape. One of the soldiers had noticed her lack of response and quickly relieved the basket from her hands, tossing it to the bushes as he stepped forward, and before she could protest, his hand moved down to grasp between her legs. Where Lady Quigley's son had registered a vacant stare, confusion and then fury rose to the soldier's face. "Fucking knife-eared wisp!" He shouted, his voice slurred with ale. Fury rose in Estes' chest at the insult, but before she could respond, his hand collided with her face, knocking into her nose with enough force that within seconds, she tasted blood. She screamed, but only realized such when the sound pierced the air. The soldier behind her clasped his hand over her mouth while his comrades closed in around her, the blood from the first blow slicking his fingers to slip over her lips and in that moment, with her heart already racing, she bit the man's fingers -- hard. Howling, he dropped her to the ground and Estes tensed, bracing herself for the underside of boots or fists, but nothing came. With her breath clutching in the back of her throat, she looked up in time to see guards with the royal emblems marked upon their armor taking hold of the soldiers. They struggled initially, though only one spit in venom towards her, but something made them all freeze when their attention was directed towards the rail above them as if sobriety had hit them instantaneously. With blood still freely pouring down her face, Estes' dark eyes wandered up the wall, fixing upon an older man whom she recognized only as someone who had ridden directly beside the King on their way to Ostagar. While he was focused on the soldiers, she grasped the ground beneath herself to stand, intending to gather up the spilled sheets in the overturned basket and hurry back to the servants area to clean up. As she staggered to her feet, one of the guards wordlessly clutched her by the arm and began to lead her towards the steps.

Morticia Addams, loving devoted wife and mother of the Addams Family was going stir crazy. She despised when her adoring husband was away on business leaving her all alone. Well maybe not fully alone as there was still her two dasterly children Wednesday and her brother Pugsley, Mama, Uncle Fester, Lurch and of course Thing plus all of their beloved pets. Alas without Gomez her life was incomplete. Besides the children were at school during the day, Fester and Mama were up to their usual shenanigans. These past two weeks with out her Gomez has been the longest of her life. It was bad enough she was even smoking more, of course not in the sense of a cigarette or cigar, Morticia's body would just start smoking. Besides calling him when she could to talk to him or tease him a bit seeing as he was so far away from her. She knew he would be coming home soon any minute now. Morticia had a few new outfits added to her wardrobe for her husband's return. Choosing this particular lacyoutfit, for her stunt. Today she was aid by Lurch to play with a new toy they had gotten. He lifted and trapped Morticia onto the Spanish Donkey. Suspended from the ceiling by her hands, with a ball gag in her mouth, having weights attached to her feet, straddling the Spainish Donkey being just enough to stimulate her womanhood, but it left that way too long could cause serious pain even able to rip her in half. Through her gag she muffled "Thank you Lurch" have already given him a note to pass on to Mr. Addams when he comes home and to keep the children out of the dungeon if they came home first.

Oh that vile temptress! Did she know what she was playing at? Gomez thought perhaps not, otherwise his little nightshade blossom might have thought discretion better than what he was now prepared to do her as punishment. Like any sensible man he had enjoyed her musings for the most part, but when she had broken out the French it had awoken dark things within him. He could hardly wait to get home to his haughty little hellion...after all two could play her little game. Lurch's company on the drive home had done some to placate the fire within him, though the hulking butler could tell how the time away had affected him as he stayed mostly silent aside from the occasional sigh as he stared off into the distance somewhere unknown...though his silence broke when they entered town again. "Lurch, I honestly don't know what to do. On the one hand, I understand my darling hemlock beauty's teasings are simply her way of staving off loneliness. But this last time...she was a regular succubus on the phone. The seeds she planted into my ear...I am truly tempted to see if she can withstand half the things she proposed to me." He lamented in a notably distraught tone, Lurch simply letting out a series of grunts, groans along with a sudden growl to get his attention before opening the glove box and handing him a mysterious note which he immediately set to reading upon smelling the heavenly aroma of his beloved siren's perfume of sage and thyme...so she was in a Spanish mood. He let out an almost sinister chuckle after reading her note before clutching it tightly to his heart. "That woman, even after all these years, she knows how to bring out the sadist in me." He merely remarked before falling silent for the rest of their journey, a playful smirk on his lips and certain evil gleam in his eye. Following her instructions, he moved quickly through their gothic and stately abode, throwing open the door to the dungeon and entering before locking it tightly behind him to ensure their absolute privacy. Thankfully she had her back to him, allowing him to remove his silken purple tie which was swiftly put around her eyes and tied tightly, leaving her now completely helpless until he reached around to pull the large purple ball gag. She would feel his strong hand gently wrap around her throat before he gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek before leaning in. "My my, looks like someone was prepared for my return. But that won't save you from my wrath my dear little damsel-in-distress. You've been a right terror to me this past week and I intend to punish such blatant slutiness. Now before I begin do you have anything to say for yourself my dear?" He said in a tone that made it clear just how much he was relishing her current peril. He stepped away for a moment before returning and forcing something firm and certainly leather between her teeth. "Hold this for a moment, I need to prepare my luscious victim for her torment." He crooned to her, hiking up the bottom of her outfit which both further tortured her womanhood and exposed the entirety of Morticia's bountifully fleshy rear. Next took hold of the front of her little costume and peeled it back until her bosom sprang free, his husband chuckling as he noticed the presence of a pair of small silver hoops through her hard nipples. "Mind explaining this lovely piece of jewelry my dear? I thought I remembered you saying you'd never get these pierced unless I was the one who did it." He teased, hooking both rings with two fingers and tugging on them lightly as his free hand removed her impromptu gag to allow her to answer.

Sabrina L. Phoenix is exploring around the region of Kalos, seeking out new places, even though she's only 20 years old. She recently became the new champion of the Kalos League and often overwhelms her opponents with her strategies. Travelling alongside her is her signature Pokmon, a female Zoroark named Illusion, whom she has had by her side for at least ten years.

Illusion was a beautiful Zoroak who had served her master Sabrina loyally for ten years. She had a slender body and double D breasts which were hidden under her fur. She stretched as she walked beside Sabrina, then smiled as she said in her soft flirty tone, "So Champion, what do you wanna do today? Hunt down these legendary Pokemon we heard so much about or tackle the Battle Chatal? Or do you just want to spend the day relaxing? I don't think we're far from that lovely spot we relaxed at for a few days before the league started. You remember all the things we got up to there?

Emmareached for the bottle of water she'd set aside, taking a swig of its refreshing contents. The pretty Brit could feel the heat starting to seep into her body, and part of her almost wished that she could just blend in with the rest of the charity workers. It would be loads easier to just be another face in this crowd, a young woman who'd volunteered to come out and help some tribes affected by the latest environmental changes. There were a handful of them there, after all, though most of Emma's entourage almost counted more as an "entourage" than helpers. Various PR personnel had insisted that Emma have at least a few on site people to help: photographers and the like. If they were going to have an internationally famous star like Emma Watson at some remote village, then they'd need to get some pictures. Emma wouldn't have necessarily minded not getting the attention, but she could understand the wider scope here. Several people would see Emma doing this, be inspired, and come out and help. Though right now, they might not be quite as inspired. Emma tugged a bandana out of her tight jean short pocket. She swiped at her freckling face, wiping away grime along with the sweat that seemed almost constant. She'd like to pretend that she just "glistened' like everyone else, but the truth of the matter was quite visible on her skin. At least she'd started to freckle instead of burn, something that had been a slight concern for a pale English beauty. Emma stood out among all the dark skinned workers, a white ivory beauty amongst the ebony. But even her fellow aids didn't seem quite as pale as she, even after a few days in the heat. At least she didn't have to worry about propriety, at least, not more than she really wanted. The natives wore less than Emma would've ever been comfortable. Her own tight shorts, almost near corset top, and sensible boots were almost ornate compared to some of them, though apparently they wore their wealth to some degree, if Emma's knowledge was right. That didn't quite stop the looks, though her attractive European features probably helped. "Excuse me, Miss Watson?" said one of the villagers, one that Emma vaguely recognized as working for one of the leaders. She didn't quite understand if there was a religious leader (she stopped just short of saying 'witch doctor") or a chieftain, and the two did seem to blend. There had been some meetings, but now, as she greeted the villager, Emma realized that said leader wanted to speak to her in private. So Emma followed, walking through the village, smiling and waving as she went. A few knew her from her previous roles: they weren't that remote. And many knew she was one of the nicer workers, if a little "weak" compared to most of them. Soon enough she'd be approaching one of the more impressive tents, ready to greet the occupant inside with as much deference as manners would necessitate.

Warlord chief and Voodoo shaman Tyrese Krutangahad known that as soon as the aid workers arrived there would be trouble. Aid, water, food, medicine, these were things which he used to control and direct his people, along with the ceremonies and 'magic' they had become accustomed and subservient to. Whites coming into his lands, encroaching on his borders and giving out resources which cost money and blood could not be tolerated. Usually he would isolate and kill the foolish foreigners in the villages they sought to help, their supplies given to his men and chosen associates. The workers were only occasionally enslaved, as a lesson to others who were stupid enough to think their 'help' was needed here. Time was going to be different, though; he had been shown a picture of the worker by one of his loyal people, and immediately he had grown hard at the thought of what one particular 'aid worker' would feel like writhing on his cock. Her name was Emma Watson, apparently she was a British actress who was slumming it in his part of the world. She was with the group who were giving out supplies at a nearby village, supplies which he would soon claim and distribute as he saw fit. Once that was settled, her flesh would belong to him, a fine prize for his efforts as women with her looks were rare, prized, sought after and craved. Having her on his arm would be another symbol of his power. The fact that she was some half famous actress meant nothing, as far as he was concerned. By the time anyone penetrated deep enough into his lands to look for her, she would be a slave to his black cock anyway, less a woman to be rescued than one to be envied or pitied by her fellow females. Taking possession of the village chiefs tent, which was nothing compared to one of his own homes, he made ready to greet the girl. His forces had arrived earlier in several trucks and an armoured car and it had been easy enough to take control from the foolish 'security' who had been there. He had no idea why a woman like Emma was really here in his country, out in the 'middle of nowhere'. Did she want to be ravaged? Perhaps white women needed to be brutally fucked and used by a black man in order to feel complete? Perhaps their white men, with their small cocks and civilised ways, could no longer satisfy them? Thus they simply placed themselves in harms way and waited for powerful men, such as himself, to seek them out and lay claim them. He was convinced of this as he waited in the large tent, which was more of a marquee, filled with several bunks and tables scattered about behind its canvas walls, along with personal effects, supplies and belongings. Two guards grabbed Emma by the arms as she approached the entry flap, dragging her in and pushing her before him. He placed his assault rifle down on a flimsy looking wooden table and turned to address her, taking a puff from the large cigar he was smoking. He paused before speaking, looking her over, admiring her exposed legs, the whiteness of her thighs as her tiny shorts left them exposed to his lust-fuelled gaze, not to mention the swell of her tits squeezed into some bodice torn from history. The lure of her red lips, pale skin, and tight young body was overwhelming this close up...and he knew that she would be pouring sweat, girlish cum, and tears into him before the day was through. His gaze raped her from head to toe and back again, before settling on her eyes. Next to his powerful form, she was tiny, her fragile looking frame would be easily dominated and dwarfed by his own. His hard abs and musculature virtually cast him as an ebony god in her presence. Removing his sunglasses, he slipped them into the top pocket of his khaki uniform, plastered with self-awarded medals and badges of honor, and moved to sit down on a chair facing her. "Miss Emma Watson, isn't it? Do you know who I am?" He asked her in perfect English, a smirk on his lips. Everything about her drove him wild with lust: her delicate fragile body, her flushed appearance from the heat, the way she smelled, the way she moved, the way she conformed to every twisted fantasy he had ever had about a white woman. As he waited for a response, he continued to openly and unashamedly feast his eyes on her appearance. "Give an order to load up the supplies. Put the workers in the trucks we commandeered, then stand by." He called over his shoulder to some men. A soldier poked his head through the flap of the large tent, nodding and confirming the orders in some African dialect before stepping inside and leaning against a post. Tyrese looked back at Emma, resting his elbows on the table behind him, his legs wide and his grin arrogant and confident as he watched her. "You have come here uninvited, Miss Watson," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "Your supplies have been confiscated and your people are about to be punished. I can simply warn them about their crimes of helping whites, or I can execute them for being insurgents. You have enough things here to supply a small guerilla force, after all." He nodded. "However, a woman like you, with a body like yours, you can do much to temper my anger at this 'invasion' into my land." He stretched a little, a cocky look on his face. He could feel his cock stretching out down his thigh and he knew that the thick fat girth would be almost impossible to overlook. "Now, Miss Watson," he continued, "tell me, why are you here in my country, flaunting your white flesh, displaying your perfect skin, moving about my villages as though you own them? Why should I give you back your supplies and let you and your aid wokers go? Convince me. Tell me why I should release you... but do it on your knees." As he spoke another soldier entered through a canvas flap, handing him a pile of passports which had been collected. He chose one at random. "Serena Ramirez, age twenty-one, Aid worker. This girl wants you to do as you are told... because if you do not she will be raped, shot in the head and then left for the jungle beasts to devour. The color of her skin doesn't get her the privileges that yours does. However, just so that we are completely clear about things, your answers and obedience will only serve to save your aid workers... I'm sure that you know what I'm gong to do to you if you disobey me. If you are honest with yourself you will know it's what you want anyway. Think of this as your greatest role yet." He smiled, a white gleaming wall of perfect teeth flashing before her.

A few weeks later, Vendar led Yaiil and her mercenary band along a road between the Serpent River and the mountains. Pausing to lean on his staff, the middle-aged human pointed to a mountain in the distance. There, he indicated a white spire, faintly visible at this distance. "Vignor's Tower," he said. "Home of your future employer.

Yaiil squinted her eyes in the direction of Vendar's finger, trying to make out as many details as possible of that structure amidst nondescript rock. Finally, there it was - a certain sense of anxiety within the young elf that so suddenly had become the leader of a mercenary band via promotion by combat. This would put her plan to the test, whether it was possible to turn that band of bandits and outlaws into something resembling a legal enterprise that no longer has to hide from the law. It might also finally offer her an opportunity to get laid again. So far she had held steadfast to her resolve not to engage any of her underlings or partners - Vendar included - in a carnal way, but three weeks on the road were a long time once the forbidden fruit had been tasted. There had been a brief glimmer of hope that one of her two male prisoners, Hevalon or Garet, might be able to help her out, but their age was taking its toll. In the early days of their travels they had passed by a few outlying farms, and in hindsight it might have been wise to task their male residents with a very special request, but hindsight was just that. Curse Jarek and his all female harem. She turned Onessa, who during the trip had been elevated to her second in command, with mixed receptions among the troops. "You know anything about Vignor, or heard Jarek talk about him?" she asked the slender elf with genuine curiosity.

Defeat. It was a word that had been foreign to Nero in life, but its magnificent humiliation was now ever present in the mind of the late Roman Emperor. She remembered vividly the chain of events that had brought her to this point, her emerald kaleidoscopes recounting how she and her master had been overwhelmed and captured by the enemy. An ambush of lesser goblins had led the Emperor to become far too boisterous in battle, not realizing the true threat were the endless horde of goblin champions that soon followed. Though many were cut down by Aestus Estus, it wasn't long until Nero had found herself completely overwhelmed. How frustrating it was for the proud and noble Nero Claudius to be forced to kneel before her enemies, chained and gagged like some common slave. Nero's thoughts were clouded by thoughts of escape. What she would do to these lowly creatures when she was free of her shackles once more. Like her master, her hands were bound behind her back, with a crude cloth rag tied over her mouth. She had to escape, so that she could protect her master and flee far from this dark and despicable place. Kneeling in the dark cavern, Nero glanced towards the many goblins that filled the room. Even if she managed to break her chains, there appeared to be far too many enemies for her to defeat; especially in her wounded state. Perhaps if she could get closer to Rin, she would be able to execute the mana transfer she needed in order to fight her way out. But even then, their prospects looked slim. It wasn't long until the weak gaze of torchlight revealed a large creature at the center of the room. A horrible creature that looked more foul than even the goblins that surrounded them. Nero's eyes glared defiantly at this creature as the goblins removed the gags that covered the couple's mouths."Release us." The Emperor commanded, as if her words held any weight in her current position."I will not stand for such treatment by insolent creatures."She growled once more. The saber class servant rose to her feet in defiance, only to be struck down by the goblin that was holding her chains.To be captured like this... at the mercy of such disgusting monsters. The humiliation burned painfully in Nero's chest.

The beast sat upon a raised dais modeled to look like a throne; the beast had goblins surrounded him, fanning him and feeding him food as well as protecting him. It was clear the goblins not only obeyed this monster but seemed to worship it like a god. He was well known to the human realms as Jabba the Hutt, a mysterious slug creature that had managed to enthrall many of the goblin clans and now ruled over them. With his command of the goblins he was able to wreak havoc upon the civilized realms unless they paid him tribute. All did, for it was easier to pay off the Hutt than deal with his goblin horde for long. Jabba's long and fat tongue hung from his gaping mouth, dripping his drool onto his fat rolls which glistened in the light of the torches of his throne room. His massive tail swished back and forth as his feline eyes gazed upon the prizes that his minions had brought before him. He let out a bellowing laugh that echoed throughout the chamber as the goblins joined in the laughter as well, clearly happy that their master and lord was happy. He licked his lips, leering at the beautiful young human women before him. Nero's defiance nearly made him laugh loudly as he bellowed out orders in a guttural tongue that neither Nero nor Rin could understand. The goblins let out a loud cheer and soon their claws went to work on the tattered remains of their grabs. Claws tore at red and white fabric and cloth, ripping dresses to shreds and exposing womanly curves for Jabba and the goblins. Similar claws went to work on Rin's red top and black skirt. They were rapidly made nude, their bodies on full display with one bits and pieces of what had once been their clothes clinging to their bodies. Two large goblin champions, larger than any Nero had fought and lost to stepped forward with chain collars and snapped them around each girl's neck. Attached to them were long chain-link leashes which Jabba held in each of his grubby hands. He tugged on the leash in his right hand, yanking Nero forward powerfully and violently, her body forced into his own. It felt like she was being absorbed by his fat rolls! Her fair and smooth skin became coated in his slime...so hot and sticky. A goblin came behind her and pressed a powerful hand against her back so she couldn't escape as Jabba gazed down at her, a laugh echoing through the chambers once again as Nero could feel the fat rolls vibrating against her body. Soon, that long and fat tongue was licking up her neck and cheek, painting a trail on her body with his drool as the Hutt marked her as his property. Soon the tongue neared her mouth and it began to press against her lips, seeking to force its way into her mouth. All the while Rin was forced to watch, the large champion goblin behind her gleefully wrapping his powerful arms around her slim waist and his hands moved to grope and squeeze her perfectly rounded breasts, her flesh molding against the green digits of her assailant.

Yusuke Urameshi took a deep, appreciative breath of the scenic surroundings. The beautiful landscape of the temple grounds and land surrounding it had to offer was only ever so impacting when he climbed one of his favorite trees. This tree was taller than most of the others, giving a perfect 360-degree view of much of the land they'd inherited. And this being one of his favorites, the higher branches were thicker and stronger than the others, offering a lovely nook to settle in. He couldn't be sure, but he did have the idea that these characteristics within the high branches of some of the trees that littered the area had at least something to do with Kurama, if not everything. After all, they shared just about every one of their favorite spots, which was quite possibly what made them favorites in the first place. Chocolate eyes looked down over the landscape again, pulling in the calming sight and letting it settle in his bones. His attention was drawn toward the temple, as usual during times of rest. Despite needing a moment to get away for himself, there was simply no chance he could actually pull himself away from the area without his interests falling back on his home; his family. Up here, still within view of the temple, he was able to get away just enough that the squabbling chatter, bickering fights, and chaos that surrounded the rather full 'house hold' couldn't reach him quite as easily. But he could sense the goings-on as well. Should anything go wrong, he would be able to make his way back in moments. As he looked over the grounds, he caught sight of the bright red hair of his husband. Focusing his eyes, he saw the blonde curls of the small girl who used to scream at the fox's very presence from over his shoulder. He couldn't help but smile at the warmth the interaction between the two brought to his core. Lilly wasn't as interested in Yusuke anymore, surely, but Kurama was getting closer with them by the day. For someone who supposedly hated children, Kurama was getting close to them by the day. The siblings, Keichi and Lilly, were the two he was growing closest with. Keichi was his apprentice so that didn't really surprise the former detective. Though he still wasn't quite sure how Lilly had managed to grab his attention. If he had to guess, he would probably be a bit projective with it. The tiny girl was so adorable it was sometimes painful, at least in Yusuke's eyes. So, if he had to guess, he would suppose it probably had to do with that. It was insanely hard not to fall for something so cute. He knew; he'd fallen so hard for the cute thing in his life that he'd continued to follow it around like a lost puppy and had eventually married 'it'. A chuckle wracked his chest for another reason though. A niggle of jealousy and possession rolled through him as he watched what little of the two he could see interacting. It amused him because he knew it was silly of course, but more so because he almost couldn't decide which of the two creatures below he was more jealous of; almost. A warm sigh huffed past his chest as he nestled down against the tree and formed into the grooved branch comfortably. Closing his eyes allowed him a nice long moment to soak up the warm rays of a beautifully sunny day all over again. His arms lifted and hands slid behind his head for a bit of comfort against the hard bark. If Kurama were here, Yusuke would have had a much more comfortable pillow to rest against than his own hands. He'd wanted desperately to ask the man to join him; to take a nap curled up to his sweet fox and lying partially in his lap like he used to do so much more often than lately. Because with all of the children he'd brought in, and both of their apprentices to deal with, it was hard to find time together. Certainly they were able to when they really needed, but it wasn't as often as either of them liked... He hadn't asked though. Because he had noticed that interaction between the two creatures he'd been watching just a moment ago. He couldn't interrupt Kurama and Lilly's time together. The softest of all soft spots he might have were reserved specifically for those two. It wasn't something he'd decided of course, just something that had happened. But seeing those two together, their interaction warm, thrilled, and abundantly enjoyed; he simply couldn't bear to be the one to pull them apart. It was okay though. Even though he would have preferred to have his husband sharing in his 'alone' time at the moment it wasn't exactly horrible without him... Sometimes it could be, but just at the moment he could bare it. Another warm sigh rolled from his chest unbidden as the focus in his eyes bled away and he simply stared at the scenery he was graced with all over again. He was, in fact, so relaxed from the delicious wind wafting over him and the warm sun heating him to the core at the moment that it was entirely possible he might find a small nap for himself even without the comfort his husband brought him.

She wasn't such a terrible creature. Ever since she stopped wailing at the mere sight of him, she had become almost pleasant. Almost. He still had a strong dislike of children; she still grabbed at everything with grubby little fingers, she still covered her face in food when ever she ate, she still smelled of dirt and mud from 'play time.' She still pulled his husband from his arms on a nightly basis... No, that wasn't quite right. Once he and Yusuke began checking her bed and closet before bed the nightly interruptions had gone down considerably, but they still happened, and often at the worst possible times. Daily/nightly sex was still a far off memory, sorely missed. Still, it made his mate happy to have the little strays living in the temple, and so long as he didn't try to bring in more, the fox would try to make the best of it. He'd been wildly surprised when the youngest member of the temple came up to him, greeting him with the usual growl he begrudgingly returned (he still found it to be tedious and a tad embarrassing when done in front of others), and pleaded him with big blue eyes to teach her about plants. He'd been suspicious at first, but over the past week or so she had worked hard with each and every lesson. They weren't nearly as cruel as Kurama's lessons for his brother Keichi. She now sat in front of him, her legs and arms crossed, and a stern look of concentration on her face. It matched Yusuke's all too well. "Come now," the fox scolded lightly. "You have performed this task before on several occasions." He was knelt in front of her, his back straight and expression focused. He took these lessons seriously, no matter how menial it seemed to be. Ten leaves and seeds were set in front of the little girl, and she was meant to match each seed to its leaf. Lily didn't look up from her task, but she twitched when Kurama spoke, and her arms uncrossed. Tiny, grubby fingers reached out and moved one seed, then another, before her memory seemed to kick in and she began moving them around without pause. The fox smiled, just a little. It was nice to have someone else in the temple interested in botany. Heaven knew his own charge had no desire for it. Emerald eyes were focused on the foliage on the ground, and he kept that focus even when a wave of ice rolled along his spine and set every hair on his body one end in a preen. A powerful, but harmless aura was coming closer. A white haired fox demon causally strolling up the temple stairs. That wasn't such an odd thing. After Genkai's death the temple and its grounds had become a safe haven for demon's traversing the realms. It happened significantly less now, the travelers often put off by the swarm of children, but it wasn't unheard of, so this shouldn't be so frightening. Kurama swallowed thickly as the energy grew closer, and the more it did the more familiar he realized it was. No... No he had to be mistaken. He couldn't be! Why would that man be coming here; but he couldn't deny it. Lily stared up at him in confusion. She had finished a while ago... "'Rama?" She asked. The little girl could probably say his name properly by now, but she insisted on using the shortened version. The fox jumped a little and blinked away the fog in his vision. "Lily," he said softly, gently, but with a strong sense of urgency. "I need you to go find Keichi, and do not leave his side. Not even for a moment. Understand?" She opened her mouth to argue as any toddler her age would, but he narrowed his eyes sharply at the girl and her lips instantly pursed. He didn't know if she feared punishment, or actually caught the gravity of the situation on some elementary level, but she got off of the ground and scurried her way inside the temple to find her brother. Kurama watched her run off until she disappeared behind a door, then he let himself shudder. His whole body shook in a quick spasm, but it stopped almost as soon as it started. The red fox stood and casually brushed off his clothes. There was a warmth that flooded over him. The bit of Yusuke's energy mingled with his own offered a bit of comfort, and it was made stronger by the protective aura Yusuke exuded almost constantly. Kurama looked up in the direction of his mate. He couldn't see the other man, but he knew exactly where he was. He lifted his hand and made a 'come here' motion before his attention fell to the open gate of the temple just in time to see the personification of his nightmares and long repressed fantasies. Kurama found himself walking closer without his consent, and silently pleaded for Yusuke to hurry home. The fox demon at the gate was taller than Youko by at least a few inches. His snow white hair looked as soft as it was and reached down past his backside. Matching fox ears were tall and perfectly sculpted, and the tail was wide and fluffy and long. It was slowly wagging across his backside as the beautiful redhead came to greet him. Once reaching him, emerald eyes had to lift and his head tilted back to meet the golden gaze staring him down with a kindness that made him want to both retch and tumble into his arms. Kurama opened his mouth to speak, but nothing left his parted lips. Nothing but a tiny, whimpered, "Sir?" A bright smile pulled the white fox's lips. "So the stories are true." His voice was warm and collected. The demon stood tall, and with his perfect posture and the traditional kimono decorating his pale skin with dark purples and light blues, he looked as regal as he acted. Kurama flinched when a clawed hand reached out, but he eagerly nuzzled into the large, warm palm that rested on his cheek. "This body... it suits you. So small and delicate, even though you are anything but." Shuichi swallowed again, his lips quivering as he warred within himself. He wanted to run, he wanted to throw himself at this fox, he wanted to... to... He stayed rooted to the ground. "I've heard you've taken a new title. Master Kurama." The smirk that pulled his lips made Kurama whimper pitifully. "My mate and I train the children here," he tried to explain. "Yes... of course." The redhead jumped as he was suddenly enveloped in a strong hug. It was so... He was completely surrounded by the fox's arms, and Kurama couldn't stop from returning the embrace tightly. He nearly puked in fear and joy as the other demon purred into his hair. "I have missed you. Little Kit.

Pat (Patricia) Hunter 11th June, 1933 10:51 AM Lawless, Illinois Exact Location: Veleno Familigia Mansion It was supposed to finally come to an end, or so rumors had hinted as much. The Prohibition Era had been one of the most frustrating time-frames, particularly for the mafia families spread throughout the United States. While booze was the main thing that authorities had their eyes on, it was by no means the only things that could be confiscated if one wasn't careful. Drugs, weapons, trafficking, brothels, and many more popular vices that people tended to indulge in. With the Vanetti, Orco, and Galassia families having steadily fallen apart, new ones rose in its place. Just as empires rise and fall, now was no exception. Although the Veleno Familigia had most of its members linked by blood, there were a good number who were taken in after proving themselves to the don. One of these such individuals was Pat Hunter, whom was viewed as something of a prodigy given they were also the youngest Veleno member; still barely seventeen, and yet possessing years worth of skills. Particularly in their aim with a firearm. It was always a sight for the more experienced and older mafia members to behold, question, and admire all at once. And indeed, quite a few had tried to pry and ask for how Pat had gained such skills. Most were given a rather curt reply along the lines of "Just be glad someone here has them". Some accepted and agreed that was true. Others, naturally, didn't take too well to it. But even those who weren't overly fond of the lip they received from the young teen never dared to act on their reactions, if only to avoid incurring the wrath of their own leader. There was, of course, a reason for these responses. It was just one of those things that no one needed to know. So, Pat ensured to keep it from everyone, even the don, despite it being a risky gesture. Naturally, a lot of people had asked their leader why they were fine being out of the loop. "Don't you know they're holding some shit back from you?!" "Of course. But if it were important enough, I'd extract that information myself." Marco Veleno waved his hand through the air, dismissing the matter. "Go get Pat and some of the others. It's almost nearing time to meet up with the other Familigia in the neutral ground and get our supplies." A scoff was the first response, but no further arguments were offered. Within minutes, Pat and three other men walked into the don's office, wearing expectant expressions. "It's almost time, as I'm sure you all know," Marco stated, waiting until everyone gave some affirmative gesture or reply. Then he looked over towards one of the more familiar faces to him, someone who had been in the Veleno Familigia much longer than Pat. It was his eldest son, born from his own flesh and blood. "Alessandro? Are the women ready for transport?" "As is the booze, yes." "Good. Leonardo and Pat? Go grab the liquor. Alessandro and Lucas? Go get the women." All four nodded, though it didn't escape anyone that Pat looked less than pleased. Thankfully, everyone would stay quiet until they were out of ear shot. Then and only at that moment did Leonardo speak up, "Really not fond of selling them out, are ya?" "No. That can be done with them still having their freedom intact," Marco replied. "So the fuck are you doing with us then? You knew when you joined up, didn't you?" Leaning down, the young man grabbed one of the barrels of liquor and started carrying it away. An irritated scoff passed Leonardo's lips as he muttered a few words under his breath. Still, he knew they were all pressed for time, and now wasn't the best moment to begin a major argument. Minutes later, the other two Veleno members would arrive, with a dozen females walking in an eerily calm fashion behind the men. Whether they had simply accepted their fates or had them beaten into them was anyone's guess. "Alright! Off we go!" Pat would be in the back, with Alessandro driving the van. The engine roared and slowly - but very surely - the vehicle headed to the 'neutral ground' the don had spoken of. An abandoned cinema. Since it had been shut down for a few years, it wasn't under the normally watchful eyes of the police, and thus made these exchanges easier to comply with.

Around the same time at the Salvatori Warehouse It was all true; with the Vanettis wiped out to nearly extinction, the Orcos disbanded, and the Galassias moved on, two families seized the opportunity to rise to power in Lawless, Illinois. One would be the Veleno and the other, Salvatori. They had not wanted their growing empires to collapse in the same fashions that their predecessors suffered, so Don Marco Veleno andDon Albert Salvatorifounded a sort of peace treaty where both profit off the people's habits without stepping on each other's toes. Lawless Heaven was still the crowned jewel, the ultimate whiskey, and its most sought after recipe sold to the Veleno from an anonymous seller. The booze trade belonged to them as well as a quarter of the women in the city who operate the brothels. What was left in the market was run by Don Albert; not a man in the city could get his hands on a gun or even an ounce of cocaine without his knowledge. An arguable claim. To compete with Lawless Heaven, the Salvatori hustled the purest cocaine, known as Chicago Snow. A crew of six men stashed the drugs in crates the size of gas ranges and on top was a wooden piece with a false bottom filled with soft hay and empty glass jars. The false bottom trick proved useful if ever stopped by the cops or to divert unwanted attention. It was how the family transported all their goods. Three more crates held the same packages of Chicago Snow with empty jars on top and two more crates in equal size contained revolvers and four new Tommy guns. Among the crew wasAndreas Russoand a tragic past was how he came onto the Salvatori family. He'd been orphaned at a young age and as a dear friend of the family, Don Albert and his wife, Lady Rosalina, adopted him as their own. Every day he worked harder than others in the family to live up to their expectations. Since being chosen to be the next don without a drop of Salvatori blood, Andreas had a lot to prove. He often received backlash for Don Albert's decision especially from his cousin Antonio who would also be on the crew for today's arrangements. The two lifted the heavy gun crates and loaded them into the back of the box truck. Paolo and Tomas were inside to receive the shipment, using their brawn to push the crates further in and chain them down. With the group effort, they were packed up by 11:00 AM and ready with Paolo and Tomas remaining in the rear for unloading time, Manny would drive, Stefano rode shotgun, and Antonio and Andreas were in Antonio's black Rolls Royce as the blocker car for security. June 11th, 1933 11:17 AM Abandoned Odyssey Theater "If we have to wait on them, then they're late. That's that. And don't expect him to say anything about it." Antonio gestured to Andreas over his shoulder with a sharp thumb as he conversed with the men. Everyone had been huddled beside the truck in their usual spot for the trade off behind the building. There was a place where the dumpsters were located that served as an ideal blind spot. "I'll tell'em. I got things to do on a peaceful Sunday like this, you know." Meanwhile, Andreas had finished the last of his smoke before approaching the others. His face held little emotion despite the irritation that bullied him. There was no arguing with his older cousin when he was like this. Paolo had a softer side for Andreas, "Hey birthday boy, I hear the Don's letting you get first pick on an escort when they get here. Yeah, I even heard him say this is the finest batch we'll ever get and he paid top dollar." Today was his 18th birthday and Andreas remembered the conversation with Don Albert well. In fact, he had said, "You don't have many friends your own age and I never see you with female company. Are you still a virgin? We'll fix that. I insist, Andreas! You're at the cusp of your manhood, surely this will bring you over. Just relax, son. I'll arrange everything for you!" "Yeah, he mentioned it. A whole day with her in a hotel suite on fifth." Andreas answered. The jealousy was apparent on each man's face but he did not share their enthusiasm. Then they all spoke up at once, giving him tips for his first time. Antonio would rather share his own experiences that he accomplished in his early teens and said he thought Andreas was not interested in women at all. "No, no, it's not like that at all. I just... wanted things to happen more naturally." "Such a romantic." Antonio teased and rolled his eyes. "Wait, sounds like they're here." And Andreas straightened the creases out of his white coat and brushed off any lint. "It's about damn time.

Deep in the recesses of the Emerald Forest, a secret facility was in place. Team RWBY, a recently put together group of huntresses, had just managed to pass the Emerald Forest trial, but they were not ready for when Roman Torchwick laid out a clever trap. The team was gathered up, disarmed, and bound before being transported later that day to a fortress in the forest. No one should have been able to find them. Torchwick had their weapons taken, possibly destroyed. This was when, ultimately, a hero was sent to find them. The woman was named Sapphire, a young woman with long blue hair, a cool in control behavior, and no connection to Beacon or Ozpin. She simply wandered the world of Remnant as a vagrant huntress. She was moving along the forest on a whim, cutting down grimm on her rather 'enthusiastic walk' through the dangerous grimm, when she saw the facility built inside the fortress. Sapphire blinked. "What's this?" She saw guards outside, heavily armed, but her curiosity was far too high to resist. 100 or so heavily armed guards later, the sexy mature huntress with her hourglass figure and tightly bound blue and white one-piece suit with blue embroidery around the neckline cuffs and pant legs had managed to work her way up through the facility. She saw two solid doors in the depths she had wandered through the forest, there were bars on the door windows, and she crept in close peeking into both of them.

Deep within the forest, within the bunker-like fortress that led into a large, more appropriate one, deep in the deepest confines of cells they had, in the last cells down at the end of the hall, a door each gave way to the small rooms where team RWBY was being held. On the right cell, two young girls - one clearly younger than the other, were held. One was a pale girl with silver eyes that stared frustrated at the wall, her hair short and black that faded into a reddish-brown at the tips. This younger girl was thin and petite - or more like scrawny and awkward if anything, and she was dressed in a long sleeve, short skirted sort of black dress with red ruffles, tightly fastened at the waist by a black corset with red lace that ended just under her rather small chest. Black pantyhose disappeared into black boots with red lace, matching the rest of her attire, and finally a red cloak with a hood was draped around her neck, fastened by two silver cross shaped buttons to her chest - above her tiny breasts that were clearly not developed yet. Currently the girl was sitting on her heels, ankles bound together as well as her wrists behind her back, a thick tape secure over her small mouth. Next to her was clearly the older, far more flesh toned and rosy than her companion, a blonde with a rather curvy frame for her age and a blessed bust for the teen. Her hair was long and wavy, eyes a light purple and burning with a determination the other girl seemed exhausted of at the moment. Dressed less conservatively than the dark haired girl, this one wore shorts that showed off her long, toned, creamy thighs and legs, as well as a yellow crop top that tightly strained under the pressure of her bountiful cleavage worn under a short brown coat that also showed off her tightly toned midriff. This one sat up on her round butt, legs out as she seemed to rest back for the moment, no less fire burning in her gaze however. In the other cell were two more girls. One had long black hair and sharp amber colored eyes, she was wearing a white top covered in a black vest that left the chest open, and white matching shorts worn over black leggings that faded into purple before disappearing into her black boots. A black arm warmer rested on her left arm that joined her right behind her back, tied together tightly. Finally the girl wore a stiff black bow atop her head. This one sat cross-legged, back straight, seemingly in a meditative sort of sitting position yet her eyes were open, half-lidded in wait for whatever would come next. With her was a girl that seemed exactly her opposite. Her hair was stark white and done in a long ponytail that came from the upper side of her head before falling long down. She sat to the side with her legs lazily resting the same way, her stare as cold and icy as her blue eyes - the left of which had a light scar over it. She was much paler than the dark haired girl, her skin a porcelain white and her attire mostly made of white as well. She wore a short white dress that hugged her thin frame, this girl more accurately petite and thin, as opposed to the more lanky girl in the other cell. Over this was a thin, short coat, white but with red in lining, and her long, smooth legs ended in classy white boots that matched her attire. These four girls were Ruby Rose and Yang Xiao Long, and Blake Belladonna and Weiss Schnee - they were the four members of Team RWBY. Yang, the bombshell blonde of the group was the first to notice the new figure peering in, clearly someone not with Torchwick judging by her appearance alone. When the busty teen noticed her, her eyes lit up and she made a muffled "mmmph!!" from behind the tape over her mouth. Ruby, Yang's sister, looked up at Yang's sound and her already large, innocent silver eyes widened as a softer, cuter "Mmhh!" came from behind her tape. In the other cell, the dark haired Blake looked up hopefully as she heard the sounds her friend's made. However, Weiss, the primp and proper white haired girl kept a poised stance, simply staring coldly in case this was just another trick. One never could be too careful.

Glynda grimaced as she sat in her chair reading an article in the newspaper about some new advanced dust being produced. As she sat looking stoic faced, she pushed up her glasses and shook her head. The beautiful headmistress knew all about this new revolutionary dust, and she stood up on her heels. Both she and I know all about this... She grimaced feeling the tightness in her purple pants. The woman gave a glance out the window. Her sudden affliction from being exposed to that new dust... She hated it. Why did she have these urges... why did this thing between her legs have to be there now.... as she pondered this, a glance at some young female students in the courtyard below caught her eye. She glanced at her scroll and punched in a number. Hello Winter, it's me. Can you make time to come down to Beacon? I have things to discuss with you if that's not too much trouble for you.

Right," Was all Winter had said over the scroll before hanging up the call. It was two days ago that it happened, Winter was at Beacon due to General Ironwood having business there. The Schnee was asked to help Glynda Goodwitch with a Dust project involving some new variety. A bit of clumsiness and an explosion later, and the two had been... Transformed. High heel thigh high boots tapped against the floor with each long step as she walked with intent down the halls towards Glynda's office. Luckily her usual uniform consisted of pants, it made it easier to hide that... Thing. The door swung open to Glynda's office before Winter closed it, leaning against the large wooden surface. Her slanted usually scowling eyes closed for a minute as she took a breath, opening her naturally icy gaze to the teacher at the desk at the front of the room. "I assume this pertains to the other day," Winter spoke calmly with the slightest flush to her porcelain skin, a slight, hard bulge in her white pants becoming harder and harder to hide. "Have you... Ahem... tried it yet?" Winter cleared her throat asking as professionally as she could muster. It had only been two days and since trying to hide this thing, Winter had taken the first attempt at solving the ache by her own hand the night before, but it wasn't enough. This thing pained her at this point, begging for some sort of release the woman had to contain.

Imagine if you will, a shadowy, moss covered hill top, in the dead of night. Now imagine a silvery full moon high overhead, bathing the area in its beautiful, subdued light. On top of this hill are several stone megalithic structures, made in ancient times as a sort of calendar, so that when viewed from a certain point, they would align with the stars and the planets, as a means of keeping time. Or at least, that was what the makers had intended. Now they were being used for a much darker purpose. On top of the hill was a flat, massive disk of cut granite, carved with five indentations, and little grooves carving their way all throughout. Gathered around this stone circle were many shaded figures, all kneeling, and wearing heavy black robes. Their chants were a hypnotic droning, all murmuring the same thing over and over again in some savage tongue that was forgotten long ago. In the center of this circle, stood a lone figure, standing tall, with his robes swaying gently in the breeze. A heavy brass gong could be heard booming from somewhere in the distance, as a procession of twelve people slowly shuffled their way up to the stone circle. They were arranged in three ranks of four, with the outer eight wearing robes of a deep red, and carrying what looked like tallow sticks. They burned in a manner similar to a candle, only that the flame they produced was a sickly, pallid green. The four young women in the center were all dressed in gauzy, white dresses that flapped and buffeted in the wind. All of them were beautiful, but their eyes were glazed over, and distant. Each of the four women was led to one of the four indentations in the circular stone slab, and made to kneel. The other eight in red robes joined those in black, in their droning hymns. Elder mason stood there in the center, thinking about the past event that had led to this... Several years ago, the magic and power that had flowed so freely within his organization had started to wane for some unknown reason. He researched the old texts to complete exhaustion, and performed many a sacred forgotten rite to try and restore balance to his coven. Everything was done exactly as it was written, but all efforts ultimately failed. But then someone reached out to him. Some handsome, wealthy businessman in a hand tailored white suit, with a handsome, if devilish smile. "Every year, on the summer equinox, you are to sacrifice four of your newly awakened. Do this, and it will not only restore you coven's power, but make it grow." The elder had dismissed it as madness. Three years came and went, and their magic had stalled to nothing but a lazy ebb. In desperation, he performed the rite as it was described by the mysterious individual. One of the four had been his own daughter. Blinded by his need, he sacrificed her anyway, and the survivors' power was indeed restored. That had been only a year ago, and this was to be the second ceremony. Elder Mason drew back his hood, and regarded the four young girls that sat around him, on their knees, oblivious to what was about to happen to them. His eyes were wrinkled, and tired. He felt dead inside, hollow and forlorn. Was this truly to be the future of his coven? This was the old ways. It had been done many times before him, and would be done many times after. If not him, then someone else. The coven's power could not be allowed to die, no matter what the cost. And the cost was great indeed. The elder made no expression, but merely drew a heavy-looking, wide-bladed sword made of pure silver, and brought it down upon the first girl's neck swiftly. Time seemed to stop for but a moment, as her head slowly fell from her shoulders. Her body fell into the depression made in the stone, with her blood filling it up, and flowing down and around through the grooves cut into its surface, glowing with an unholy, powerful red light. Elder Mason closed his eyes once, and exhaled. He did the same for two more girls, and as their blood flowed, the red glow seemed to strengthen. He felt the core of his power rejuvenate, as their life went to feed their source. Drunk in his need to feel the rush of magic, the Elder brought the sword up to strike the last girl, using the same fluid swing. But the blade stopped just a millimeter from her graceful neck. White hot agony ripped up the right arm of the elder, as he screamed, the flaming ruins of what was his right arm burning away to ashes, and dropping his sacred sacrificial weapon. For a moment, the girl's hypnotic gaze faltered. He then fell under a tremendous rush of power being expelled from her suddenly... The next thing elder Mason knew, he was waking up from laying on the circular stone slab, with the morning sun blinding his eyes with its brightness. Sharp pain wracked his right side, and he looked at it. To his horror, his right arm was completely burned away. The other initiates were likewise groggy, and just now coming out of their haze. A few of them came to their senses, and immediately went to attend to the stricken elder. His power... he felt it wasting away, getting weaker just as before... Terrified and furious all at the same time, The Elder used his remaining arm to shove the initiates away from him. "...Find her!" He roared at them. "...find her now!

Poppy's hazel eyes fluttered open as the morning sun shone between her curtains. It was a welcoming sight since the weather forecast had predicted it to cloudy, but many things can change by the end of the day. Pulling back her covers, a flutter of nerves and excitement greeted her stomach, along with rumbles of hunger. Outstretching her arms, she climbed out of bed and made her way downstairs. Her over coven sisters had risen too, all talking about the evening's events. Unlike most days, today was greatly important, not only to the five girls but also the coven. The elders had stumbled across an old ritual to help revitalize their ancestors' power that had been fading over the hundreds of years. In a rare occurrence, all the girls were born on the same day and time, holding them with great power once they turn of age. Which happened to be today. At 21, their magic is at its peak. Normally, a 'coming-of-age' type ceremony/ritual is formed to help the power bind tighter to the host so it will last, but today everything would be done differently. The forgotten ritual requested for such an occurrence for the coven to regain its once glorious power. Where they could conjure spells without the need for potions, just pure natural magic from the elements themselves. The orders were simple and vague. They had traditional clothing to wear, and required to drink a 'spiritual' drink which would help their power to be shared. Or so it was believed. That evening, the young ladies got ready, giggling and chatting as if getting ready for a party. For the past few weeks, everyone has been saying what an honor these girls are doing and how things are going to change for the better. It fed into their minds, making them believe that nothing else mattered. Poppy felt just like that, that she and the other girls were the key and she could help her coven. She was honored and knew her parents would be grateful and proud. She stared down at a photo of them both. The edges of the paper were slightly tattered now but the image was as clear as the day it was taken. "They would be so proud of you!" Hannah said over Poppy's shoulder. "Thanks, Han," Poppy replied with a warm smile. Hannah was her closest and best friend, in fact, the two were more like sisters. Her family had taken her in after the untimely death of her parents. They died almost 6 years ago now, their death still felt wrong, not just because they were so young but because of how they died. A tragic car accident she was told by the elders. Now the coven didn't live in the past, there seemed more than normal to the untrained eye, but her parents where meant to be at work on the said day, not driving around on the other side of town. It just didn't seem right, but she never told anyone how she felt. She knew they would say it was her grief and denial. A call from outside broke her from her thoughts. It was Elder calling for them to come down. All the girls headed to the dining room and sat around the oak wood table that lay in the middle. Drinks had been poured out for each girl. Sitting down, they took a glass and gave thanks to the elder for his hard work for the coven. Poppy noticed the Elder watching them closely. Sip by sip they drank, each falling into a deeper daze more and more. Poppy stopped drinking as she saw Hannah fall from her chair in a daze, her eyes glazed over. A few cries could be heard around her from all of the girls' parents. Alarm bells rang in her ears but it was too late. Whatever this potion was worked fast, and Poppy had no control over her body. It was like she was paralyzed. A few other people now came to the table, dressed in their robes, picking up the girls one by one. "I'll give some time for you to say your goodbyes," said the Elder before leaving the house and heading off to start the ritual. The people carried them up to Eclipse Hill, where they held all the rituals of any kind. It was the most sacred part of the land and held its own kind of power. This time Poppy lay screaming in her own mind. She was trying anything to get even a toe to move, but it was impossible. By the time she focused on what was before her, she saw her best friend's throat being slit like a hot knife through butter. With each slit of a girl's throat, Poppy could feel this charge running through her veins. As the blade drew close to her own neck, now being the last girl alive, she knew she could die like this. To have her best friend and other friends slaughtered like animals when they believed they were here to help. No, it wasn't going to end like that. Not today and not for Poppy. She drew all the energy and power she could master in a ball in her mind. She had no clue what she was doing, but all her emotions built up as the clouds did in the open air. She screamed out as loud as she could and suddenly she could breathe. Like she was trapped in a glass box full of water and suddenly she could be heard. Her eyes were shut closed and she breathed heavily a few times. Taking the last of her courage, she opened her hazel eyes. Everyone around lay on the ground motionless. At first she thought everyone was dead. But after close inspection on the elder, she knew otherwise. Wasting no time, she fled Eclipse Hill, not even bothering to head back to the town. She had no idea how many of the cover people were down and didn't want to risk anything. She knew everyone was in on it all. Feeding them lies while knowing they were to be slaughtered for their own selfish needs. Poppy ran till she felt as if her chest was about to give in. She had somehow made it to the next town. In fairness, it wasn't too far, and she knew she couldn't stay here. Heading into a store, she quickly grabbed a change of clothes, changing in the changing rooms. As she made her exit, she noticed the cashier flirting with one of the guys parading in a tight tank top. She was facing the other direction to the tip jar, so Poppy pulled up her hood and took her chance with the tip jar and made a brisk exit. She felt awful for stealing but she couldn't run around in the same clothes and money. She didn't know how long they would stay asleep for and they would be looking for a girl in white not a girl in jeans and a hoodie. Plus there was enough money for her to catch the next coach out of town. Anything to give her more of a chance at living was worth stealing. She didn't know where she would end up, but anywhere from here was better.

Everything hurt. That's how Diego felt as he struggled to get up. He had no idea what happened. One moment, he was walking alongside his Gardevoir and savoring the nice day... The next, there was a strange multi-colored light above them before he knew it, there was some sort of massive explosion that enveloped them. When he got up though... he felt something different. He stood up and screamed in shock. He was a Pikachu... kinda. It was like he was a Pikachu stretched into a human shape. He had the yellow coat, the red cheeks, his ears were now Pikachu ears and he even had a tail. However, he still had human eyes and face. He was now on his feet and walking around. However, he was also naked... he had no idea what was going on. All he had was his glasses... Sophia! "SOPHIA!? WHERE ARE YOU?" Diego shouted, looking over for his Gardevoir.

With a long groan, Sophia groggily rose to her feet, clutching her head in her hands. In the distance, she heard her master shouting for her. Was he in danger? She spun around to face him, and then groaned again as the sudden movement made her head spin. She fell to her knees, and planted her hands into the sand, willing her world to stop spinning. As she did, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the water. Her face looked subtly different, although she couldn't quite figure out why... And then she saw it. Orthem, rather. A pair of large orbs hung from her chest, threatening to burst out of her dress. They looked like human breasts... And when had she put on a dress? She rose unsteadily to her feet once more, surveying her new form in the water. She was no longer floating off the ground, instead standing on a pair of long legs, with thick thighs that ended in- and she lifted the skirt to check- wide hips and a large rear.She was wearing panties, and a curious touch confirmed they hid a sensitive pussy. The touch sent a shiver of pleasure up her spine, unlike anything she'd ever felt, better even than winning a fight against a gym leader's strongest pokmon. The voice of her master calling for her snapped her out of her daze, and she turned to him once more, his voice coming from over a nearby hill. As she tried to move however, she fell flat on her face, never having had legs before. She let out a cry as she did, and another groan as she hit the ground. Confused and somewhat overwhelmed by the situation, as well as frustrated by her inability to even walk, she simply lay there, hoping her cry had alerted her master.

Veilstone City 8:19 AM Tyler had been a competitor in contests, but had actually stopped competing a few months ago, around the time that he had met Dawn in his final contest. The two had seemed to get along well, and started dating shortly after. He had been a fan of hers forever, so for him this was like a dream come true, of course he didn't tell her that he didn't really want to scare the girl. He was sitting atop the department store, looking out towards the ocean, sitting on one of the chairs out here. His girlfriend was doing some sort of Photoshoot, and while he wanted to be there, he had woken up late, the studio hadn't believed him when he had said he had been Dawn's boyfriend and thus wouldn't let him go into the building. He was fuming, and so had come up here to the public observation lounge he was nursing a lemonade at the moment and looking at his Poketch to pass the time, glancing down at his cellphone, three messages sent in the past 15 minutes. Since security hadn't let him past the door. 'didn't let me in, security doesn't believe I'm your boyfriend' 'I bet you look cute right now' 'Waiting for you at the top of the dept store, I saved you a drink' He was starting to feel kinda nervous how long did these things normally take? He looked at his phone maybe one more message wouldn't hurt. 'Hey sweetie when's your lunch break, I meet you, and you can take me back with you, sucks out here alone' He wasn't actually alone of course. Nessy his Espeon was with him, long ago the smaller creature had been the number one contest in the cute catagory, but now a days he was more focused on trying to be a manager than a contestant. Even so Nessy had stuck with him, and was almost never in a pokeball, it seemed like a waist to put away someone that had always been helpful and loyal. He brushed the felines long ears for a moment, watching as the cat was eating. He was so bored. He glanced at his phone, he rocked back and forth in his seat, maybe he should try calling her? no she was working, he was just nervous cause he knew all those people would be watching her. and he was over here missing the whole thing.

Dawn lay sprawled over a light blue sunbed, arms raised above her head and one leg bent giving a glimpse of the curve of her ass squashed against the sun bed. She was wearing a bikini that was perhaps a little too tight while sucking on a blue ice pop. If it wasn't for the heat of the shoot lights, she would be shivering. Modelling hadn't been on Dawn's radar when she first started competing professionally as a coordinator but it had become a regular part of her life. Speaking of other unexpected additions to her life, the dark-haired coordinator had been asked out by one of her fellow competitors. It was strange to think that she could call Tyler her boyfriend and it still brought a smile to her face to think about it. "Alright Dawn, switch to your stomach," called the photographer who was snapping away at her. This photo shoot was going to promote the Hotel Grand Lake just in time for summer, even if it was too early for her to go out in something so skimpy. "And tug those bottoms down a little more." "You'll have to speak to my manager if you want me to show more skin," Ugh this photographer was notorious for trying to get girls to show more skin. He had even convinced some to do nude shots. Well, she wouldn't be one of them today. Dawn rolled onto her stomach, showing that peach of an ass straining against her bikini bottoms slowly swinging her legs up and down. The man looked irritated with her but thankfully just laughed things off and continued with the shoot. Soon he had a full reel of Dawn posed and stretching out that plush body of hers. It was good to finally take a break and curl up with her loyal Empoleon, Navy, who had been patiently waiting for her. Now that Navy wasn't a little Piplup, he didn't feature as much on the photoshoots or at least in the sexier ones. Dawn smiled and nuzzled up to the water type with a grin after she slipped into a light blue dressing gown. Just as she was ready to curl up for a little catnap, she felt her cellphone buzz in her pocket. Oh dear... that explained why Tyler hadn't turned up. "Hey sweetie, we just took a break for lunch. Sorry they didn't let you in. Hm? Haha Navy is sorry too." Dawn didn't bother texting; instead, she called him up and gave a giggle at her partner's crooning. Navy was pretty protective of her, especially during shoots so he seemed to get on well with her equally protective boyfriend. "It's boring here without you, I want to steal your jacket and snuggle up before the shoot starts again." Dawn would be the first to admit it: She had gotten a little bit love-sick. It wasn't like she really dated guys before Tyler anyway, Barry had been the only guy her age who hung out with before becoming a trainer after all.

Star Wars: The Stygian Bargain 55 BBY | Cha Raaba System Planet: Ylesia | The Spice Rack Cantina Mid-Day It was common practice for slaves to trade hands in Hutt Space. Ylesia was one of the foremost Spice Processing worlds in the outer-rims, so when Spice Trade funneled through Kessel to Nar Shaddaa many warm slave bodies made the travel. Once transporters made the drop offs it is was simpler to just sell off the slave labor and purchase a new crew that it was to feed and bed them. Those sold off it would then not be uncommon to travel dozens of planets in a years span before settling on single owner or ending up working the Processing Factories on Ylesia where most slaves ended. It was not an enviable existence by any stretch. The lucky ones were bought by prosperous shop owners in the region, while the most desirable were bought by the Cantinas to entertain guests. For those with credits their bodies and minds could be cultivated to satiate other desires than simple sight. It was a rough existence but the Outer Rims Territories rarely saw equity among the lower classes. A pity genuinely, Ebbyn Shaa, thought to himself. For while he might praise constructive cruelty, the baseless crushing of sentient will seemed fruitless and disappointing. An individual no matter their capability or status had uses beyond mindless physical labor. A mind and body could be cultivated for so much more, a philosophy hed earned during his years in a Republic Medical Academy. Indeed the Umbaran was a servant of the Galactic Republic (not that any individual would know this far out). But the value of life had always been a subject that obsessed in his inner most thoughts. Shaa had judged the worth of millions and what determined their benefit to exist at all. Cold and calculating yes, but the pale man felt it a most pertinent balance to overly sympathetic thought. Wasnt that the most empathetic approach? To not let emotion and impulse cloud ones good intentions. And he was a good man, a better man. A tall figure he practically towered over most as he entered the Cantina wearing a flowing black Umbaran Shadowcloak, and a synthetic uniform comprised of black leathers dressed in white and blue materials. The sides of his head and his face held no hair, but the lengthy strip that he possessed were shaped into tight white braids, with metal jeweled clasps binding them together and allowing the braided tail to hang over his cloaked shoulder. His ghostly gaze practically undressed the room full of merchants and low-lifes. Shaa held his gloved hand tucked formally in front of him as if a noble or diplomat. His dress and presence spoke of a wealth he may or may not have had, but it was further evidence to his beliefs the individuals reacted upon first seeing him. Despite their judgement whether dismissive, excited, suspicion, or annoyance they made their distance subconsciously away. They could instinctually realize presence of power when it approached. Yet that to the Umbaran was a clever illusion hed cast through combination of dress and body language. His surroundings was filled with murk of smoke and the scent of strong liquors and floral aromas coming in from the jungle scape outside. Yet above all else there was a pungent stain of spice in the air. Whether it be from the nearby factories, or those few independent contractors that chose to work those areas, and filtered through the air. The Umbarans nostrils almost flared in annoyance at the scent but he kept his composure as his vision settled upon a lightly pigmented Rutian Twilek slave girl that had been making her rounds about the floor. What a rarity her kind were this far out. Even the Twilek slave trade knew better than to send their stock to Ylesia, when they could sell them to the more profitable pleasure dens elsewhere. That only meant shed had an unfortunate luck with handlers and owners. Standing now at the dingy bar flanked by filth and grime laden men, obviously they were the afterhours of a mining shift nearby, the Umbaran pleasantly genuflected with hands spreading open and out. With a thin lipped smile the piqued Doctor Shaa spoke,I was told to speak to a Treban Brudd about the acquisition of slaves. Looking down at the man behind the counter he did not break contact as he lightly added in his sharp foreign accent,It is of certain importance that I make this purchase soon.

The spice-addled band swayed lethargically on stage, bleating out an often off-key tune that warbled to the far corners of the Cantina. It was hazy and dim inside, a respite from the strangling humidity that gripped most of the jungle planet. The hewn-stone walls kept the place cool without the aid of artificial generators, though they remained constantly clammy with collected moisture. Not so different from the caves of her homeworld, Nimaven thought as she threaded her way past the regulars that reached for handfuls of flesh wherever she went. Ylesia had been her home for nearly a year now, though she long ago stopped considering any place home. The word lost meaning in the constant shuffle from one place to the next, especially considering she had no say in where she ended up. Even Ryloth held no place in her heart these days. There was nothing there for her. Not anymore. She belonged nowhere, and drifted through the galaxy like space dust. A broad hand swept over the generous curve of her rump, brazenly displayed by the immodest covering her dancing silks offered her, when she sauntered past the miners gathered at the bar after shift. Her top offered little more covering than the skirt, a tiny bikini edged in gold that served to present her pert assets from the outset. The translucent material flashed with an iridescence her skin seemed to share, a very faint blue unlike most of the bold-hued Rutian Twileks. Gold bands enclosed wrists, ankles, and upper arms, along with a thicker one around her slender neck where a chain was sometimes placed. Her headpiece was a modest gold band worked with intricate coils and set with moonstones that favored her coloring. Nimavens lekku vibrated with mild irritation at the brash act of this spice-covered miner, though she saw Master Brudd eyeing her from across the room, so she lowered her lashes demurely and tittered as a comely flush swept over her cheeks. Her face was sweet perfection: all big, beautiful eyes and pouting lips, a delicate chin, high cheekbones. One look from her could turn the gruffest bounty hunter into a quivering porglet. More petite than most of her kind, she had a taut dancer's body, slender and toned but with ample offerings of hip and rear that never failed to draw the male gaze. Yet there was a reason she was here and not in one of the more popular Cantinas or pleasure dens, a reason she'd been passed around more often than most slaves as alluring as she. Most seasoned slave owners picked up on it right away when she was on the block: that flash of defiance in sapphire-hued eyes, that refusal to bow her head and bend her shoulders and weep over her fate. Slaves unbroken by their circumstances were dangerous, an undesirable risk many were unwilling to take, or unwilling to train out of them, no matter how attractive the packaging. Master Brudd had obtained her as part of a package deal and, though she was a large draw for the regulars in his Cantina, she had used up almost all of her chances when she broke a bottle over a mine supervisor's head the other night. But what could she do? He'd keep her, or he wouldn't. She often wondered what might have been if she hadn't been discovered, if her parents' ploy to keep her hidden beneath the floor hadn't been exposed by neighbors desperate to save their own daughter from the slavers. The screams of ghosts followed her from place to place, the sound of blasters, the stomp of militant boots atop the panel in the floor. Hands reaching, always grabbing, hauling her out and grabbing her breasts as they declared what a fine price these would fetch. She would have been more. What, she could not say. Just more. A presence caught her attention as she gathered empty cups from a table near the back. A presence, before the figure himself eased into the Cantina. She couldn't explain it, but certain people triggered a little ripple of sensation down her spine like a chill in the night. This tall, regal man was one of them, and she found herself stealing glances at him as she worked. Not only did he awaken that strange sensation in her, but he was also rather out of place in this seedy little den. The others saw it too, shifting aside as the man confidently made his way to the bar. It was at that moment that she saw him turn a glance her way, striking at her with those pale eyes. This time when she ducked her chin down quickly and coiled her lekku in close, she meant it. Gathering her tray, she hastily made her way toward the back. Her heart galloped in her chest and she put a hand there to quell the frantic beat. Though others here and there had triggered that little feeling in her, she had never felt it so intensely before as she did coming off this man. She wished she knew what it meant. A moment later, she heard Master Brudds' coarse voice bellowing for her. Nimaven! Come!

Welcome to Guardian Academy, a high-school for the supernaturally gifted. It is a place where heroes are born and tales are forged, where students train to eventually take up the mantle as civilization's most gallant defenders. To become a Star Guardian is a privilege few are given, a position that takes a lifetime of hard work and dedication. For some, it is their true calling, though very few ever manage to transcend and reach for the sky above. Among the new class of fledgling Guardians, a single soul emerges as perhaps the most potent: Ahri. Yet, despite all of her arcane grace and raw skill, her academics seem to starkly lag behind the rest. Perhaps her mind is fixated upon something else, something far different from becoming a Star Guardian. Destiny is an interesting beast, one that cannot be tamed or predicted. What does the future hold for Guardian Academy's most gifted student? "Ahri! Wake up!" A familiar voice echoed distantly, repeating itself. Each repetition increased in both volume and clarity, until the image of a matching face coincided with the voice. It was none other than Luxanna Crownguard, a fellow classmate and friend of the gifted Ahri. If Ahri was the most powerful of their student class, Luxanna certainly was the brightest academically. It went without saying that the two probably complimented each other quite well. "Seriously? I spend my lunch time trying to tutor you... and you fall asleep on me?" The pink-haired student huffed, crossing her arms against her perky chest. The pair were seated between two desks in the vacant student council room, which Lux was currently the student president of. "You know if you don't study, Miss Fortune is going to fail you." It didn't seem like the severity of the situation was having any effect on her friend's study habits. Lux let out a sigh of partial defeat, "What's gotten into you, Ahri? It seems like you're never focused. Like you're always thinking about something else." The smaller Guardian stood up from her seat, using her open palms to crease out the folds of her rather short skirt, which barely covered her supple thighs. "Look, I told Miss Fortune that I would help you, but I'm not going to waste my time if you're not going to pay attention." She rolled her eyes, tapping the heel of her boot against the classroom tile. It went without saying that Luxanna was something of a teacher's pet, a trustworthy student who cared just a little too much about her own grades.

Gentle fingers tangle in disheveled pink hair, tugging Lux's head to the side in order to allow eager lips to caress the flesh of her neck. The sounds bubbling from the slightly smaller girl's mouth only serve to spur Ahri on despite the half-hearted hands pushing at her torso. Ahri knew that Lux wanted her just as much as Ahri needed her, though it would take some skill to crumble the walls that her treasured comrade had erected. "Ahri, wake up!" No, no no no! Dammit all! The sound of a distant voice entered the dreaming girl's mind, suddenly shattering the delightfully raunchy dream. Eyes the color of violets blinked themselves open and a regretful groan sounds from the powerful Guardian. After a second of hesitation, she picks her head up off her desk, running her hands through her blonde hair to make herself presentable. There was a distant sort of quality in her gaze that made it clear that Lux's first few sentences didn't really reach her, but after a moment Ahri sobered up, so to speak. To Ahri's credit, she looked properly ashamed, and started fiddling with her hands. She truly did feel bad for putting one of her closest friends through this, really she did. But there was a certain... Drawback, of sorts, to her celestial magics. Much of Ahri's skills had to do with seducing and enthralling her enemies to lower their guards, but this in turn had always spiked her own libido. In the past, simple masturbation was enough to quench her carnal thirsts, but lately it was becoming increasingly obvious that this was no longer enough. She'd had something of a crush on Luxanna for the better part of a year, and now her dreams were infested with delicious fantasies of making the pink-haired beauty her own, and she needed to relieve her urges multiple times a night in order to withhold herself the next day. In class and in recreation, she found her eyes narrowing and a powerful instinct to pounce on her treasured friend and take her without hesitation. But she genuinely loved and respected the other young woman, and was sickened by the thought of doing such things without her consent. Guilt and frustration had plagued her for the past several nights, hence falling asleep in class and her grades starting to slip. "I-I'm sorry, Lux." She stuttered, her ears flattened against her head. Ahri met the other Guardian's stern gaze with a sheepish grin, anxiously fisting her hands in her own skirts as looking into those sparkling amethyst depths became too much for her to bear. "I swear to you that this isn't intentional.

Greece is such a petty place to be, especially at sunset. Lena Oxton is at the grounds of some ruins, climbing up on one of the pillars as she tries to get a good look at the rest of the area. "Hm...I can't see anything so far." She moves to the rooftops of the ruins, doing it as stealthily as possible. She stops as she finds something - a gathering of a group that are moving equipment into a carrier. "Yep, Talon is here alright," she says through her earpiece. "They're moving stuff for transport..." Tracer sighs as she moves back just a little, waiting for her orders.

Watching her from afar, Widowmaker could only sigh in annoyance. "I swear you are the worst at stealth, my petite rump roast," he muttered in French, as she was visible at sunset in a yellow jumpsuit. He'd take aim from afar and switch his ammo for dummy rounds in his silenced sniper rifle. The first shot would whiz past her ear to feel like a flick and knock her earpiece off her head. The second shot would strike her left supple butt cheek as he grappling hooked to another position, then purposely shot the right cheek as well from afar with a smirk. She needed to learn that she wasn't subtle, and this was his favorite game to play with Tracer.

Amongst the darkness, sword and lance clashed with dizzying grace, two silhouettes striking at one another in a deadly waltz. The fight had lasted for some time now and to the untrained eye, it seemed that neither combatant was gaining the upper hand. But it was only a matter of time before Avenger would strike his opponent down, for the enemy knew not his identity... his weakness. Even if they did, Achilles was among the strongest from the Age of Heroes, the demi-god that slew the Trojan hero, Hector, in single combat and had brought the ancient city to its knees. Casanova had spent many days stalking their opponent, preparing for this fight. What was more, Casanova had managed to summon an extra class servant, the version of Achilles representing both his strongest and lowest points: Achilles Alter, the hero that had just lost his best friend and vowed to break the Trojans piece by piece. They did not plan to lose. And lose they did not. In a dramatic change of events, Achilles struck his opponent down, a saber-class servant wearing a crimson gown and with golden locks. The blow was non-fatal, but the force at which she plunged into the ground made it clear who the winner would be. But Achilles knew better than to allow the woman to stand, instead falling upon her with boiling rage and conviction. He threw his lance down upon her, missing her face by mere inches before plummeting down atop her. Before she could regain herself, Achilles was above her, his hands catching her neck between metal gauntlets. With hungry eyes the servant gazed into her emerald kaleidoscopes, his fingers tightening their grip until he could hear the sweet melody of gagging underneath him. In just a moment, he could snap the servant's neck like a twig. "Enough, Avenger," Casanova's voice echoed off of the cathedral halls, the young man stepping into the moon's light. Achilles did not listen, instead tightening his grip upon the Saber's throat until she could not breathe completely. "I said, that's enough," he repeated himself, prepared to use a command spell if necessary. Luckily, the servant acquiesced, loosening her grip upon the servant's throat just enough so that she could breathe once more. "Why? She is our enemy." Achilles growled, his strong, yellow gaze still beaming upon the woman beneath him. Casanova migrated over towards the woman in the corner of the room, who watched the scene unfolding before her with shocked eyes. The young man flashed her a warm smile, before reaching out towards her slowly. "Shh. I'm not going to hurt you." He promised her, his hand gravitating towards the side of her face. With tender grace, the man cupped the side of her cheek, rubbing her smooth flesh gently. He was tall, handsome, with dark hair fashionably disheveled and with an attractive, plunging jawline. But above all, his sapphire gemstones were enchantingly mysterious. "Your servant has been defeated. According to the rules of the Holy Grail War, I am obligated to take both of your lives." He explained, his hand traveling down the side of her face and underneath her chin. Carefully, he tipped her chin upwards, forcing her to look up at the man that had defeated her. "But... I will give you another option. One that will not be offered again." The man grinned, pausing momentarily so his words could sink in. "You and your servant will become my property... my servants... my slaves." He cooed quietly, yet clearly, underneath his breath. His terms were non-negotiable and a single time offer. The glare in his sapphire eyes made it clear that should his rival refuse, that the both of them would be killed without mercy. Before she could speak, Casanova placed his finger upon her lips, silencing her. "If you agree to my terms, both you and your servant will fall to your knees and beg for your lives. If you do not, I will kill you both." The man snapped his fingers, waving towards Achilles, who begrudgingly released the servant from his grip. He motioned the servant towards him, waiting for the two to do as they were told... or die. "Beg and live. Or die. It is your choice.

The saber-class servant exuded a haughty confidence that her master could feel soothe her skin and seep into her very bones. Something had been off about this night but the duo had pressed on and remained vigilant in their quest for the Holy Grail. Omnipotent wish granter that it was, the legendary chalice and limitless mana within was sought out by all masters of the Holy Grail War. All that mattered was the wish -- the truth, the Root. So despite her gut advising her otherwise, they had forged on. Neither of them could have been prepared for the onslaught that awaited them inside of that grand, empty cathedral. It was a wonder that the clash of steel had not drawn the attention of others, the darkness that veiled the building acting as if it were a cloak to disguise them all-- perhaps it was. Met with another powerful servant and his equally imposing master, though the girl in question had yet to see much of him, the red-clad swords woman immediately went on the offensive, swinging her blade with a grace worthy of the former Emperor. Sparks flew, evidence of the clash of steel, and for a time Rie believed they might have a chance. While she sometimes believed her brusque servant to be far more flashy than absolutely necessary, the young woman had come to realize that all that flash and pomp was what made Nero, Nero. A woman of Rome, Emperor to the people and a lover of fine arts, beauty, and valor, all the things that made her servant so confident and assuring that the Holy Grail would be theirs. It was these traits and this woman that Rie placed her trust in. Saber's bright smile fell after so many blows. Crimson turned black and those bright green eyes narrowed dangerously as the lance-wielding servant before her countered blows and laid into her with a strength and severity she'd not quite seen before. In the far corner of the room Rie could do little more than watch as this dark, intimidating force decimated her partner. "Come on, Saber." The whisper like a mantra, a silent good luck charm. They could win, they just needed to gain a hint of an upper hand. They could win... But it was not their fate. "Saber!" The trusty sword in which Nero used clattered on the ground next to her. The breath left her lungs after the blonde saber struggled against the might of her opponent. Rie's eyes widened and blinked rapidly, mind reeling from the fast turn of events that had occurred. The opposing master made his presence known and called off his servant from dealing the final blow. Try as saber might, with the grip he had on her now, she was in no shape to retaliate or protect her master. With a deep inhale once her windpipe was released, the saber gasped and swallowed, the bruise already making itself known in the form of a fingertip necklace around her throat. "Praetor--" Rie couldn't -- didn't -- trust that smile. It was a predator's smile and all it did was make her blood run cold with fear. His fingers brushed her skin and she couldn't help but flinch at the contact, giving him the satisfaction that he had caught her, not that she was sure he needed much more proof. Oh, but how wrong she was. His sweet words and gentle caress did little to dissuade her from the thought that they'd both be killed. He could claim a notch on his belt and count one less in the running for the Grail, dispose of the both of them with little effort and note a care. Gray eyes flickered over his shoulder to where the male servant with piercing gold eyes had her saber pinned beneath him. Soon she was guided to look at him and Rie swallowed, limbs shaking despite her best efforts to stand strong and show that she was just as powerful a mage with no fear. What could he possibly offer to her? Surely he didn't mean to play a game with her, taunt her with the hope of freedom only to drive a knife into her back. Oh no, it was far worse, even. "Wh--" she'd barely formed the words on her lips before he silenced her, both eyes and finger effectively keeping her shut up. "Praetor, no!" Nero croaked, still beneath the Avenger. Rie had little time to think. Nero joined her side moments later, and the dark haired girl knew what she needed to do. Her saber could see it too, the blonde's angry features looking so foreign on that usually smiling face. "Praetor, you cannot--" "Just-- ...just.. do it, Saber." Was she so cowardly? Did she fear death so much that she would so quickly give up her family's dream of the Holy Grail-- so that she could live as a slave to a mage? Had she really fallen so far...? With little else to say and legs crumbling beneath her-- whether due to the shock, fear, and anger or acceptance of her situation-- the young magus fell, palms flat against the floor and head hung low, dark locks obscuring her vision. Moments later at the behest, and with little more option lest she sign her masters death warrant as she stood, Nero fell into position beside her. Please spare us our lives and in return we accept your terms..

Even after cleaning herself, it felt like there was still sand on Rey's hands. Just hours ago, Jakku's yellow sun had been beating down ruthlessly on her, her hands sore from scavenging for bits of metal, and the desert plains had stretched for miles in peaking waves. The sand was unavoidable; barely any shelter, and she couldn't remember the last time she hadn't slept with a coarse texture on her skin. And now, she was... Surprisingly clean. Rey rubbed her fingers against her palm, released them, and then looked down. Sure enough, there were no gritty grains of sand left on her fingers. A few cuts and scrapes here and there, and perhaps a bit of a red tinge where she'd burnt herself on some hot metal whilst scavenging, but she was almost completely okay. Almost. Where was Ben? The scavenger looked at her bed, and then the door. She was supposed to have gone to sleep by now, remembering Han's passing statement about how tired she must have felt after narrowly escaping the First Order - and his debt collectors - but how was she supposed to sleep when the room felt so deathly silent? It was horrible. When Ben had first arrived on Jakku, she had been apprehensive about letting him stay with her, sticking firmly to her 'loner' behaviour. But then over time, the activities she used to do by herself became something that was worth sharing. And what was most amazing was that Ben actually cared about it. For so long, Rey had been treated no better than the dirt on Jakku itself, but then Ben had stumbled into her life and showed her that she didn't need to feel lonely anymore. Scavenging, eating, sleeping - they did it all. And now she was expected to sleep alone? Rey huffed, annoyed and frustrated. Just being by herself made her distressed. The thought of being alone again on Jakku was enough to make her upset, but now she was in an unfamiliar environment, having been forced to abandon her life on Jakku when the First Order came looking for her, and her whole heart ached at the thought of not being able to hug Ben at the end of it all. She brought her legs up and sat cross-legged on the bed, fiddling with the blanket nervously. It was going to be a long 'rest'.

Ben Solo was training to become the next great Jedi. His mother and father tried to keep him away from the life, but his Uncle Luke Skywalker taught him once Ben became interested. One fateful night long ago, Bens best friend at the time decided to lose his damn mind. Every young Jedi that was in training underneath Luke was slaughtered. The temples were destroyed. Somehow, Ben kept himself alive and survived. Luke helped get Ben back to his parents so he could seek the medical help he needed. However, after that, Luke just disappeared and left Ben all alone for training. He had to teach himself after healing up. Soon enough, Ben was with the Resistance full time. He read as much as he could, trained as much as he could, so not only did he become a good fighter for the Rebels, but he became a better Jedi as well. Things were going well for him. He was still on the Light Side of the Force and he was trying to teach more people but it was a dying art since his knowledge was not nearly as extensive as Master Lukes. He would kill to have him back. He was very close to Poe Dameron, who was a pilot for the Resistance. Poe taught him everything he knew about aircrafts and spaceship weapons. What started out as just another mission for them on Jakku turned into something else entirely. After coming face to face with the First Order and Kylo Ren, Ben was sent away to escort BB-8 back to the Resistance. He hated leaving Poe, but he realized there was no other option for him. Poe was in charge anyways. On Jakku, trying to get back home, he met a woman named Rey. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She was kind, too. From the very first moment they spoke, there was undeniable chemistry between them. When they first met, Ben actually saved her life from a couple of Junkers that were looking to corner her and steal what she had scavenged. Weeks had passed since then. Ben and Rey started a relationship together while on Jakku and he never felt like life was more right than it was now. They were currently on his fathers ship, preparing to meet up with other Resistance members on Takodana, but they were also hiding from the First Order, which meant they had to be careful while in flight. Ben recently showered and cleaned himself up for the evening, but he could not stop thinking about Rey. They spent nearly every second together since meeting. Why stop now? Ben debated it for a very short time, deciding to make the short walk from his room down to hers, stopping outside her door to knock a few times. Rey, its me. He called out.

Bella!" Charlie shouted again. She jerked her head up as the sound of his voice finally broke through the haze of dreariness about her. What? She asked quietly. Dark brown eyes glanced around the living room doing a quick inventory. Floor cleaned; couch arranged properly. Everything was where it should be. "I've been talking to you for the last five minutes," he said with a sigh of frustration, "have you heard a thing I've said?" Bella had been under a cloud of depression ever since the day the Cullens left. He had hoped that after a month or so she would get over the odd boy and move on with her life, but his daughter was a lifeless husk. Sure, she worked, she ate, slept, breathed, and talked. But that spark of life, that will to live, was simply absent. "Sorry Charlie," Bella apologized, "did I forget to do the dishes?" She asked with concern. No, he responded with a sigh. When are you going to go out with your friends? All you've been doing for months is drone around. Maybe I should send you back to Renee. That woman could brighten anyones day. This thought sparked a pang of pain within him as he thinks back on when they were young and in love. Shaking his head, he looked back up towards Bella, taking in the lifeless pale skin, the darkness under her eyes that marked long sleepless nights, and the book in her hands that she had been staring at for the last thirty minutes. "Bella," Charlie frowned, tilting his head which caused his dark brown locks to shift. "Mom and Phil aren't even in Phoenix right now. I would just be living in an empty house." Breathing out a long breath, he asks, "Did I do something wrong? You've been getting good grades... going to work, staying out of trouble." She closes the Calculus book she had been reading, visibly giving him her full, undivided attention. Charlie shifts uncomfortably in the recliner across from her. "No, you haven't done anything wrong," he says, "but when are you going to get over that boy?" He continues, "You've been moping around for months. You haven't gone out with friends or brought anyone over in all that time. The only times you leave the house are when you go to work or school. Staying inside all the time isn't healthy." He has more he wants to say but for now, that will do. "So, the problem is I don't have a social life?" Bella states with a flat tone. Unbelievable, she had been doing everything right and now he was going to get on her case because she wasn't wasting time on frivolous things? Fine Charlie, she says, "I'll go to the next party on the beach, is that ok with you?" She tosses it out there because honestly, she couldn't think of anyone she wanted to hang out with off the top of her head. At least if she went to a beach party, she could just hide in the shadows thrown by a flickering fire and work on homework without Charlie getting any more annoyed. Sighing, he says, "That will do for now, but remember, you have friends you know." He looks outside then down at his watch before starting up the stairs. It's getting late, I have work in the morning. Try to get some sleep Bella. With those parting words, he starts to make his way upstairs. Once Charlies door shuts, Bella sighs, standing from the rather warm seat she had been sitting in, crossing to the light switch by the door, she turns off the lights before going upstairs to her own room. It's going to be a long night. Every time she falls asleep, she will dream about that party that ended it all. About the boy she loved. Even many months later, she still remembers the feel of his icy cold, marble smooth lips on hers.

Ah, young love," Victoria sighed wistfully as she trailed her fingertips over one of the three framed photographs above the fireplace. Each photo showed the same couple - two smiling, happy young people. Newlyweds."It's so nice while it lasts, isn't it? But then the years pass and he starts to get restless and reckless and soon you'll find yourself wondering what you ever saw in him in the first place,"her tone turned bitter as she stared at the young man in the photograph. Blonde, like James had been. "Could be his persistence. The way he hunted you, chased you for years and years, never giving up. There's something to be admired about that. That's what drew you in - his persistence. But his cruelty, the beautiful, intoxicating way he could turn even the most basic hunt into a game of terror and pain - that's why you stayed."Behind her, she heard a whimper, followed by a muffled sob. She didn't turn around and instead made her way around the room, trailing her fingers lightly across the furniture and decorations. It was all very 21st century. Very modern and banal. Victoria's lip curled in distaste. "But of course, there's always something new and exciting out there. A new revolution, a new war, a new girl with a mouthwatering scent that drives him to the point of obsession."Nearly black eyes rolled in resigned annoyance. "I mean, it was fun the first time around. She only had one vampire protecting her. An easy kill. But seven? What in God's name was he thinking?"she asked her own reflection as she came upon it in the long, thin mirror against the wall. The inhumanly beautiful redhead in the glass stared back at her with the same look of anger and incredulity on her perfect features. That look was quick to fade though as Victoria paused for a moment to admire her own beauty and reach up to brush a stray curl away from her eyes. "Men," she muttered. "Even after four centuries, I still don't understand them. When they're not thinking with their cocks, they're thinking with their bloody noses. Who needs common sense when you've got supernatural strength and beauty, right? Wrong!" she shouted, the glass of the mirror cracking beneath the tip of her index finger. There was a muffled, startled yelp from behind her, then more sobs. Victoria took a breath and continued in a calmer tone. "That is the type of reckless thinking that can get you killed." Turning away from the mirror, she sauntered over to the couch where two people were seated next to each other. These were the same two people from the picture frames above the fireplace. A man and a woman in their mid-twenties, both rather average looking by human standards. Both had their arms and legs broken in various places so that they couldn't get far even if they were brave enough to attempt an escape. Both were gagged with bundled up items of clothing to muffle their screams and sobs. "I warned him," Victoria told her captive audience. "I begged him," she hissed, speeding closer to the man, enjoying the way he flinched at her sudden close proximity. There was nothing more intoxicating than the look and smell of fear on a human. "But he didn't listen, did he? He never did. And now he's dead." Pouting, she reached out to brush the damp blonde hair from the young man's clammy forehead. "All because of her - an insignificant human girl. I have to wonder, what is it about her that would make a coven of vampires kill one of their own kind just to protect her?" She muttered thoughtfully, searching terrified blue eyes as if she truly expected to find the answer there. She didn't. Disappointed, Victoria sighed and straddled the young man's lap, taking great pleasure in the muffled gasps and grunts of pain brought about by the movement."I bet you're wondering what any of this has got to do with you, aren't you, Pete? You've never even met Isabella Swan. Don't worry, you're not missing much,"she assured as she caught one of the tears rolling down his cheek with the back of her finger. "I have to kill her, you see. I have to avenge my mate. Even though he was a fucking idiot, still loved him, and he's dead because of her. So, I have to kill her, to make them pay for what they did, to make her pay for the role she played in it. But I can't make it too quick, you know? Where's the fun in that?"Victoria grinned, an excited gleam in her eyes."No, it needs to be slow and painful and beautiful,"she added with a whisper, framing his face gently with her hands."I can't risk losing control and ending it too soon. So, I need to make sure I'm properly fed before we start. And that's where you come in, Pete. You see, you and Laura are the main course,"she told him as she leaned in and brushed her lips against the side of his throat. "Isabella Swan will be dessert." A few hours later, when Victoria silently made her way into the Swan home through an unlocked window, she was freshly showered and dressed in a lacy purple dress, courtesy of Laura Hansen's closet. It would take days for anyone to notice that the Hansens were missing, weeks for their dismembered bodies to be found deep in the woods, and by then, the animals would have taken care of any evidence that could point to a vampire attack. Their deaths would forever remain a mystery. There were two heartbeats in the house. Victoria knew that the girl lived with her father, who served as the Chief of police in Forks. It was amazing, how easy it was to get information out of humans, even before one started breaking bones. She had considered killing the father - Charlie Swan - before having her fun with his daughter, but ultimately decided that killing the Chief of police in such a small town would draw too much unnecessary attention. Perhaps once she was done with Isabella and ready to leave the area. But until then, he was nothing more than a mild annoyance. Victoria had been suspicious and careful at first, when she heard that the Cullen coven had disappeared from the area. It seemed unlikely that they would leave their precious human pet behind. But after weeks of careful surveillance, she had determined that they were, in fact, gone. At least for the time being. The faded scents around the girl's bedroom confirmed that there hadn't been a vampire around to visit in at least a month. Victoria's powerful sixth sense told her that they wouldn't be back anytime soon - so she wasn't too worried about her little game being interrupted tonight. Isabella appeared to be asleep. Judging by her rapid heartbeat, it wasn't a very peaceful slumber. Did she dream about James? Did Victoria herself ever feature in the girl's nightmares? She could only hope. Smiling at the thought, she closed the distance between them in the blink of an eye and hovered above the sleeping girl, careful not to touch her just yet. Victoria inhaled deeply and felt the familiar flames in her throat, slightly dampened thanks to the wonderful meal she'd had earlier. Some part of her even enjoyed the burn of the unquenchable thirst. Satisfied with the knowledge that she'd be able to control herself, she placed a hand carefully over Isabella's mouth and lowered her hips, trapping the girl beneath her weight."Wakey, wakey, little bird,"she called in a sing-song voice."Nap time's over. Tori wants to play.

And lo, he shall rule with a dark hand and his shadow shall touch upon every land. Steel will be his skin and fire will be his blood, in hatred will he conquer all before him. No blade forged of Man, Dwarf or Elf shall endure him fear. Though will it come to pass that the firstborn son of noble blood shall rise to power. The child will be learned in the darkest arts and he will raise an army of terrible beasts. Thus will the Dark King fall, slain by neither blade nor arrow but by a sorcerous power of darkest magic and so shall his body be consumed in the flames and for all eternity burn." The Prophecy of Demise Ghrond Within the land of shadows, there exists a plane where even the sun seldom rises. The lands of Naggaroth, a realm strife with anarchy and despair... a kingdom where the strong are destined to command the weak. It is a land where the Druchii... Dark Elves... rule in all of their terrifying glory, underneath the tumultuous reign of Malekith, the Witch King of Naggaroth. Though powerful in his reign, the Witch King's nearly thousand year rule has been marred by major defeats against his High Elven brethren. Though Malekith still maintains a powerful stranglehold upon his people, there are whispers among the nobles about a prophecy to replace him. Indeed, even his mother, the seeress Morathi, plots secretly against him. From within her isolated tower of Ghrond, she has hidden away a possible heir, one that will lead the Druchii to their deserved glory... or to their deaths. From within the Tower of Prophecy, Ghrond remains one of the only regions within Naggaroth that is hidden from Malekith's prying gaze. Through generous tithes that fund his armies, Malekith's attentions have thus far remained away from the palace's luxurious, decadent halls. But it was only a matter of time until Malekith would see the deceptions of his mother... and come to wipe clean any prophecy that may be his undoing. After all, he was the true heir to Aenarion - what Dark Elf sorcerer had the right to steal his throne from him? Yet... the Witch King would find that destiny was a crueler master than he. The Palace was legendary for its luxurious decadence, but even more appealing than its exotic decorations was the law that forbade male elves from entering the domain of the Hag Sorceress without her decree. It was because of such that the royal throne room contained a single male, surrounded by the watchful gaze of sorceresses around him. He was tall, even among elves, standing before the sorceresses with an almost arrogant bravado. But for all of his conceit, Fenrisullas had thus far proven to be as formidable as the prophecies foretold. Fenris had already shown his mettle against the daemons and chaos worshipers drawn to Ghrond, his martial prowess with the sword already rivaling the best among those of his people. But as he excelled with the sword and spear, the prophecy demanded he prove his magical affinity as well. It is with this, that Felicion has taught the rising Dark Elf lord how to properly wield magic, perhaps thinking that such a deed would lead to a puppet that could be controlled. She would learn quite quickly, that this would not be the case. "Why have you summoned me?" Fenrisullas watched the Sorceress carefully, who was seated upon the luxurious throne before him. Perhaps she thought that in Morathi's absence, that Felicion held the reins over Ghrond. It was becoming apparent to the Dark Elf that she was attempting to control him, a fact that displeased him greatly. "I am not a slave that you can call whenever it pleases you." He remarked, a statement that led the sorceresses to snicker at his words in defiance. Indeed, these whores had already vastly underestimating their pawn. With a single wave of his hand, Fenris called upon his unbridled magical energy, the sorceresses falling silent as they noticed the faint glow of light within the man's palm. Before any of the sorceresses could see what their future Lord was doing, the magic burst into a ball of uncontrollable electricity, sending bolts of lightning crashing into the walls of the room. The proud sorceresses were knocked from their feet, one sent flying into a nearby pillar as magical waves of energy pulsated throughout the room. The carnage lasted only momentarily, but by the time the magic had dissipated, several sorceresses lay unconscious on the ground, others struggling to stand. "I am Fenrisullas, the future King of Naggaroth." The Dark Elf moved across the room, navigating up the elevated steps that led to the throne. Stopping in front of Felicion, the Dark Elf gazed upon his mentor with hungry eyes.

Felicions surveyed the rooms as she shifted languidly, staring out the window which peered from one of the cities highest towers at the dazzling aurora that lit the night sky beyond. This far north the lands would be locked in the cold grip of a polar-night for months, but the threads of raw magic filtering down from the pole were bright enough to make the stars dim. Like so many of her sisters in the convent of seers the tower's former mistress would have once looked out this same high window, straining her Witch-Sight to read the future in the flow of magic, and Felicions shapely lips curled into a joyless smile at the knowledge that she had been unable to read her own fate in them. Unfortunately her triumph over the high sorceress was a bitter-sweet victory as Morathi had been its principal architect, and despite their working together there was no one in Naggaroth she hated more, save perhaps the Witch-King himself, but it was that very hatred that made Felicion useful to the First Sorceress. She had become something of a lightning rod within the dark convent's to attract all those who plotted and conspired against their queen. Such schemes and plans had only become more common since the Witch King exiled Morathis court to Quintex and while Felicion passed on all she discovered about them to Morathi in secret it did not stop the young seeress from hatching her own plans, and the young seeress idly toyed with one of the many earrings fitted in her delicate, pointed ears in what those who knew her would have seen as a sign of deep thought as she considered those same plans. Fenris had been discovered when her convent sent her to deal with a Shade Clan on the Isle of Beasts suspected of harbouring a Vauvalka. Not only had their suspicion been correct, but the sorcerer whose head she eventually sent to the Witch-King had a son who he had begun training in the Dark Arts himself. She should have killed him as well, but the whelp had been prodigiously gifted for his age, and his affinity for Necromancy was especially unique and portentous. No one could have seen the dead creatures, slain by the Shades, that he had re-animated without thinking of the ancient prophecy of demise. While others might have handed him over to the Witch-King in hope of reward Felicion knew better than to trust to the generosity of such a mercurial and petty tyrant. Better to train the boy. If only to turn on him later when he represented a more credible rival. After all, the blame for abetting the prophecy could perhaps be shifted onto her co-conspirators if it came to that. On the subject of mercurial personalities as Fenris stormed into the room, one slender, long fingered hand grasped the iron stave resting by her seat. It was perhaps a byproduct of having lived her entire life knowing her fate was in others hands - a compensatory need to control her image down to the most minute detail - but whatever the reason Felicion stood out strikingly even among her uniformly seductive peers as much for the richness of her attire and the vanity of her affectations as for her exquisite appearance. Her icey, blue-grey eyes were rimmed with black khajal, and her pale, sinuous body was adorned with several piercings from the violet jewel that gleamed below her bare navel to the eight golden hoops, threaded with a silken, purple ribbon that criss-crossed its way up the hollow of her tiny waist on one side. Her gold-trimmed boots reached the tall woman's thighs, and the sight of her long, shapely legs was only partially obscured by the narrow band of purple, gold-trimmed fabric which formed the front of the dramatically split ankle-length skirt hung from an ornamental belt whose plunging front was fitted with a jewel-studded piece of jaggedly filigreed gold. The garment flaunting most of her pale thighs but for four sheer ribbon-like strands of fabric hung from its sides. The pale skin of her athletic torso was left bare up to the jagged gold chest-piece framing her youthful breasts held up by a thin halter tied around the back of her slender neck. From behind one would have seen how the ornate gold took the form of leathery wings, facing inward, that curled around her shoulder-blades were it not for her long, inky tresses. A matching head-piece sat atop a small, round table by her seat behind her, apparently discarded for the time being. As she adjusted a golden torque fitted about her pale, smooth bicep, the only imperfections Fenris could have noticed were the scars on her pale wrists and shoulders - a record of past need when the requirement for blood to fuel some spell or counter-spell had obliged the seeress to open her own veins in desperation. Her shapely, painted lips formed a joyless smile as she regarded the ill-tempered young Elf. The challenge implied in his proud tone was obvious, but the seeress had no intention of meeting it head-on. "I would never presume to think as much," her smooth voice responded. The artificial, yet still beautiful smile on her gorgeous face twitched with genuine amusement as his spell threw the other sorceresses off their feet - while Felicions pale eyes blazed with a sudden violet luminosity when the spell struck her: invisible runes marking her torso and arms blazing into view to disperse the magic. "Get up." she spat harshly at her fallen co-conspirators before turning back to Fenris. "Of course," he announced himself as the future king, lowering his gaze and offering a respectful curtsey that lowered him to one knee as he placed his staff on the floor. I only called you because I have procured you a gift, she went on, keeping her eyes lowered and remaining on one knee. The soft fabric of her long skirt gathered about her on the bare stone floor of the sparsely furnished room.

Lake Town is an unruly town where some crime could be overlooked. Those going to high school students could easily walk into an adult store and buy anything if they had the money. That student could be found at Lake Coral High School, where one of the heroines was spending her time in the bathroom stall. Rumia was able to grab a cheerleader bimbo with her. "Come on, you gotta get used to being a cumdump before you lose those looks," the goth girl taunted as she plunged her cock deeper into the girl's cunt. The Futa was unaware of what news she was about to hear.

Alongside the gothic futa plowing a ditzy cheerleader was her best friend in like positions. Mito herself had pulled a member of the girls basketball team into the same bathroom. The futa had mostly pink hair tied back in a thick, wavy ponytail, and right now her pleated skirt was lifted, panties around her thighs to let out her hard dick that was currently pounding inside. Rumia's current receptacle was bent over against the dirty wall of the bathroom. Her hands splayed against it as she was rammed by girl dick. Ungh! Aaah! Hush it nerd! Ah! Whined the cheerleader, though she didn't resist the fucking of the goth girl behind her. In fact, her cunt gripped tight, begging for that irresistible length despite her mannerism. Aha... you feel good! Mito complimented the tight little basketball player she herself was railing. Her own cock plunged deep as her hips clapped lewdly against the girls ass.

Dr. Tommy Oliver sat staring at the clock. While he was normally a very enthusiastic teacher today just seemed to be off. Much like his students, Tommy craved for Fridays to be over. While he didn't really have any big weekend plans, the veteran ranger had been known for enthusiastic hobbies and trying to live life to the fullest. But even he enjoyed a quiet afternoon every once in a while. He glanced out over the class currently heads down into their tests. He looked at the students and made sure to take an extended glance at the newest version of the Power Rangers. They were a good group of kids and he was especially proud of how far they had progressed as a team. Finally, he locked onto Kira. His house guest for the last few days, god only knows what the school would think if they found out, and close friend. Tommy knew that she had a rough home life and was glad to help the yellow ranger out. But things had been weird between them. Kira seemed to almost avoid him first thing in the morning. Part of him worried that she didn't have enough space. Tommy was drawn from his daydream by the sound of the bell. Quickly standing, he called out, "Okay everyone pencils down. Please leave your test on my desk on your way out. And remember, enjoy your weekend but not too much." With that last part, he half-glared at a couple of football players known for throwing wild parties on Friday nights. Tommy stood by the desk watching the stack of papers pile up as the students left.

Kira Ford had had a rough week. Math was her weakest area of knowledge, so with it being Friday and also midterm day for some of her classes including Algebra 2, it put her in a...well, let's just say a rather sour mood. But at least with Dr. Oliver's tests she seemed to always shine, which somehow surprised her because normally she was a bad test taker regardless of the topic. Could be that for once she had a high school teacher who actually made coming to class fun and always kept her interest. Hell, even their field trips were a blast! She'll never ever forget the day her and her now best friend Ethan and Connor discovered the Dino Gems and Dr. Oliver's lab; that was a life changer to say the least. The now 18-year-old normally kept to herself and didn't really have any friends in the beginning. But now she had two of the best friends she could ask for and one hell of a life as a Power Ranger, especially with someone like Dr. Oliver guiding them! Living with him definitely had its awkward moments but those moments were more just her own personal matter, usually she'd wake up the next morning from a rather heated dream about him and would not be able to make eye contact through the day. She would be lying if she said she didn't find Tommy attractive - that was definitely true considering her dreams she'd been having. So, the past week had been a life saver since he gave her a place to stay so she could finally be away from her lush of a mother. Sadly, her dad left them just about 5 years ago, and for some reason that's when her mom started picking up the bottle again and sadly Kira sometimes would come to school with a bruise or two. Unfortunately, she didn't wear makeup so some of them were hard to hide. That was when Dr. O stepped in to talk to her privately, and when she told him everything, he was the only one who knew it all - if it was anyone she trusted with something as deep and dark as that, it'd be him. So, when he offered her a place to sleep, he refused to take no for an answer, no matter what excuse she'd come up with. She didn't have to pay rent as long as she kept up her grades and even helped around the house and his lab, which she loved being in his lab! As soon as the bell rang, Kira looked up at the clock then closed her book and slipped it into her backpack. She had finished the test about 15 minutes earlier than everyone else. She then got up and grabbed her test and walked over to Dr. O's desk and laid it down before walking out. This time though, it wasn't to avoid eye contact - no, this time it was because she had a band rehearsal and was playing tonight at Haley's Cafe Cyberspace. She grabbed her phone and sent out a mass text to Ethan, Tommy, and Connor: "See you guys tonight! We start setting up at 6pm, don't be late!" Kira, Ethan, and Connor for obvious reasons only to them had Dr. Oliver's personal cell number.

Kyui Lavaridge town, 2200 hours Magma owned this town, it was a vacation spot for many couples, and love birds, a natural wonder thanks to the healing effect of the hot springs caused by the volcanic activity which was a wonder of heated volcanic activity and naturally forming aquatic pools to create something truly relaxing and restful. Currently Kyui was sitting in those waters, it was late, the softer shades of night were out and at rest. The world was at peace, which was exactly the reason that Kyui had picked this time, most people had gone home by now and so it was a good chance for him to reflect on the passage of time. Today was his 19th birthday. He set a glass of whiskey to the side of him, and another that he was currently holding and taking a soft sip from it. He was resting because tomorrow was the battle, and he had the second glass for another. He didn't really remember how long ago it was that his family divided, he could kind of remember the faces of his younger sister, he supposed it wouldn't have been too different from his own. As he rested against the bamboo that separated the male and female sections of the hot springs he knew this wasn't exactly a place where he could have a drink with her, but it didn't matter. Team Aqua had made sure that his family had broken apart, and stayed shattered. He had been raised mostly by Maxie after the death of his father at the hand of an aqua grunt who had taken the battle a little too far. His sister and mother had never come for him after that day, and instead of being raised by strangers in an orphanage team Magma had looked after their own. So the second glass was too his twin, Maxie had only ever said that Aqua had gotten to her just like his father, which meant he must have been the last surviving member of his family. She was a twin so had she grown up the same as him, she would have been the same age. He sighed and sipped on his glass feeling the burn, raising his glass to the empty spot."Don't even have a name for you, but that ones for you sis." Tomorrow he could focus on revenge, today though... today he just wanted to relax.

Lavaridge Town, 2200 hours Akiraleaned back against the cool stone above the soothing waters of the hot springs. She closed her amber eyes and breathed in the healing vapors. Her breath was visible, like smoke, when she exhaled. What a day. With all the build up for the upcoming fight, she'd barely had a chance to think. She was certain she only got away this evening because it was her birthday and everyone knew it was a touchy subject. Akira still had vague memories of what her birthday had once been like. Flashes of color and smiles, figments of laughter, a happy family all together. But that was a long time ago. She had a brother, somewhere. And a father too. They could both burn in hell, assuming they weren't dead already. Where were they when her mom was injured in the battle? Why didn't her dad do his job and protect their family? Her mom had tried, so where was he? Instead, Akira watched as the best doctors that Archie could afford tried to save her, but the woman's fate was sealed. Her mom died just days after a vicious attack by Team Magma and her father and brother never bothered coming to find her. Archie had taken pity on the little girl and instead of pawning her off on some doorstep, he'd made sure to raise her within the organization. But today was her nineteenth birthday. The one day that she made herself remember just how much she missed her family. It had been hard, being alone and different. Sometimes she wished that Archie had given her away to an orphanage so she could have been adopted by a nice family. But then she wouldn't be the Akira she was today. She sighed. It was no use being angry, at least not right now. In battle she could use her fury, but in the hot springs on her birthday it just made her more depressed. She glanced at the teapot beside her. She hated tea but the pot had been her mother's. She always drank a glass on her birthday in remembrance. So, Akira sat upright and poured herself a small cup of tea. "I miss you mom. I wish you were still here. I wi-" Another voice drifted through the night. A man, close by, probably on the other side of the rickety divider wall. It was late, too late for most people to be in the hot springs. Akira had thought she was alone. Curious, she waded over to the divider and peeked through a large hole in the wood. He looked sad, but there were two glasses of something sitting next to him so he wasn't alone. But she didn't see anyone else. Akira watched him sigh and sip his drink while listening to him talk. He seemed as alone as she was. After several long minutes, she pushed away from the divider wall. She was tired of being alone on her birthday, tired of having no one to celebrate with. And this man was honestly attractive. So what if he was at a low point and she was just swooping in for some 'nice to meet you' booty? It was her birthday and she was entitled to something nice for once. Akira wrapped the towel snug around her F-cup breasts and pulled herself out of the water. She tiptoed to the far end of the divider, where the wood met with a rocky outcropping and carefully climbed onto their slippery surfaces. A few well-placed hands and feet later, Akira was climbing down the other side. She hopped to the ground on the men's side and stepped into the torchlight. "Hi. I'm Akira. Sorry to pop over so suddenly, but I think we're the only two people here and I'm certain the owner already went to bed. I just thought it might be nice to share this beautiful evening with someone. I hope you don't mind."She sank into the water and closed the distance between them as she introduced herself. Even if he didn't want to talk, at least she would have company.

The afternoon sun was still hot in the midst of summer. Its russet rays stung Ryou Bakura's albino skin and soaked into his business attire. The rather petite man was unused to the heavy cloth making up his black suit and dress pants; they suffocated him even more than the bright blue tie that was pulled just a little too tightly around his neck, and the black, clacking shoes pinched his toes painfully. He would have much rather worn his usual worn out sneakers and loose striped tee shirt and ripped jeans, but as his friend Yugi had reminded him time and again, the person he was about to meet face to face for the first time was not a 'business casual' type of Alpha, and coming to this highly important meeting in street clothes would do him and his cause no good. Still, Ryou tugged at his tie with a scrunch in his face as he looked up the short, but steep set of steps to the front of Kaiba-Corp. "Okay," he puffed to himself, pulling on his clothes to straighten out nonexistent wrinkles. He patted his right front pocket to feel the bump of the flash drive hidden within. The flash drive that held all of the important information on 'Project N.O.H.' that his scientists were willing to share. The project that could change the world as they knew it, and better the lives of every Omega alive now and born in the future. The project that needed Seto Kaiba's funds to continue. A whining noise was sighed through his nose as he muttered to himself, "No pressure." With a deeply sucked in breath, Ryou took the first step up towards the revolving door entrances. This wouldn't be his first communication with the Alpha in charge of the main supplier of Omega heat suppressants world wide, in fact, Kaiba offered his young rebellion of outraged Omega's under the table deals, so that each and every man who worked for him, or was taken in by his unnamed group, had access to the life saving drug. He even helped Ryou and Yugi find positions within his company to work in safety; A rare thing for those born with the curse of being an Omega - A man with the ability to bear children, and who goes into periodic, debilitating heat cycles. This would, however, be the first time they'd spoken to each other directly. So far, Yugi, a Beta male and Ryou's right hand, had done all of the footwork and communications between them. After all, an Alpha and Omega doing business together was highly unorthodox, and would hardly be taken seriously. He made his way through the revolving door marked Omega, but was stopped from reaching the front desk by a tall, lanky security guard who held out his hand in silent direction. Ryou smiled pleasantly to hide a distasteful sneer, and held out his right arm while pulling back his sleeve to show off a bright yellow wrist band with a bar code. At least the guy was gentle, and even looked apologetic when he took Ryou's wrist and ran a small scanner over the code. The machine beeped and blinked green, and the guard nodded and moved on to the people behind him. All large businesses were required by law to have these stopping points, where an Omega was stopped and scanned to confirm that they were on and had taken their heat suppressants. 'For the sanity and protection of the Alpha community.' Pathetic... All those scans did was provide rapists a way out of guilt; because an Alpha cannot control themselves when in the presence of an Omega in heat. Ryou made his way to the front desk to be greeted by a young man with a wide smile and sparkling brown eyes. He could tell it took everything for Kayn not to greet him with cheer and opened arms. The brunette was one of the first Omegas he'd found a job for here, but once someone left the unnamed order, they were to pretend to have never known him. So, Ryou made an obvious gesture to look at his name tag before speaking. "Good afternoon... Kayn? I have a 6:45 meeting." He offered a sweet smile and pulled a card out from his back pocket to be scanned. "Alright then Mr..." the receptionist scanned the card and handed it back, then looked at the computer to see the information, "Bakura. Mr. Kaiba will be out of his current meeting shortly. Please take the elevator on the far right to the top floor, and I will let him know you've arrived." The card was returned to his pocket and the receptionist was given a short wave before he made his way towards the elevator with relaxed shoulders. He was glad Kayn seemed to be doing so well, and he was thankful to Seto Kaiba for giving him that chance. Finding an Alpha to ally with Omegas was rare indeed, and he should know. After all, despite the band around his wrist and his timid demeanor... Ryou stepped into the elevator, pressed the button for the top floor, and stood back to watch the doors close. He was one.

You are aware of who you're speaking to?" The droll, bored tone of Seto Kaiba wasn't what instantly set the man on the screen on edge. "We had a deal," this was said with paused emphasis between words that spoke far more than the sentence ever could. Despite how calm he sounded whenever he spoke, those icy blue eyes of his were more sinister than just about anything he'd ever seen. Seto knew this. Even as he hunched forward and pulled his hands up to clasp them together in front of his face, he was glaring the man down with zero sign of mercy in his demeanor. Alpha and omega alike, most men feared Seto Kaiba's wrath. He had built himself and his company up to a level very few could even dream to reach. To anger him could mean the end of every semblance of what you'd call life, let alone your career. After all, he had a hold on the largest market of both scientific, and technological development in the world. Not to mention munitions. Though, admittedly, Kaiba Corp had cornered that market before he'd ever come close to taking over. The stumbling attempt to correct himself and appease the horrifying man before him drew the scowl from Seto's face and forced it into an amused a smirk. It was hidden behind his hands, though the low chuckle it produced wasn't. The context of the man's words were meaningless. They stopped the instant the unfamiliar noise bubbled past and those large, sharp eyes closed loosely. "I do like it when they beg." Seto sat up in his chair, long slender fingers brushing through auburn hair shortly before tugging the sleeve of his white tailored suit back into place from the motion, then calmly rested with his palms back on the large dark oak desk he sat behind. The smile that lined his lips as sky blue eyes replaced themselves on their target was even scarier than his previous demeanor. "Lucky for you, I'm feeling generous today." The heavy sigh he received in return as the Alpha on the other line visibly relaxed was precisely what he expected. Were his smirk not already so devious, it would have taken on a deeper curl for the pleasing thrill that rolled through him for this moron falling so easily for a pleasant word while he'd barely listened to a single one spoken after his offense. "Now," he mentioned lightly as he stood using the support he held on his desk. That smile faded and replaced itself with the natural, hard stare as he recognized the small blinking notification at the bottom of his computer screen. While he'd love to sit here and screw with the man's emotions while he decided what he wanted in return for his 'generosity', he'd need to cut things off quickly. As far as he saw it, this man was nothing to him now. So his next appointment was much more important. "I have another matter to attend to, so I'm going to keep this short." "O-of course," the man stumbled out quickly. Even through the large screen that hung on the wall, Seto's height and stance were incredibly intimidating as he glared down on the pinhole camera that sat in his desk. "You think long and hard about what you might owe me in return for breaking our contract. And I'll get back to you when I've decided whether or not I care enough to hear you out on it." Seto had little care for the man's sudden uproarious anger as he realized what exactly was being said to him. The large button on the video phone had been lost under his palm before any proper objections could be given either way. Taking in a deep, drawn breath, the tall man sat down once again. He closed his eyes and rubbed at his temples lightly as his sharp demeanor wavered for a moment. "It's too early for this," he sighed out moodily. "I haven't even had my caffeine yet." "Well it's time to wake up. You are aware that the sun will be going down soon," came the mocking, higher tuned voice from beside him. Of course, it wasn't early at all. They'd been up all day fulfilling the tedious task of checking in on their partnered companies; and Seto had had no coffee throughout. One tended to get used to the odd things his big brother would say when they stuck to his side long enough. It didn't matter that it didn't make sense. Mokuba caught on to the fact that the CEO was simply drained of whatever cares he happened to have when they'd started. He was nearly in the same boat himself. This sort of thing was always harder on his brother though. After all, he was doing most of the work. And yelling at 'morons' all day could take its tole. Especially on a man in Seto's position. A cup was set on the table in front of the teen who'd been witness to the show. "You do realize we can't take what just happened lightly." "Shut up Mokuba," Kaiba sat back up, his looming stature returning to itself as he carefully tugged on his soft blue tie and straightened his still perfect white suit needlessly into place. Matching eyes turned toward the younger male, a hint of softness in them no one else had ever seen as that smirk crawled back across his face. "Go on. Greet our guest at the elevator." Mokuba chuckled lightly at the moody response, more than used to it by now. No matter how cruel he could be to anyone else, the cruelty he showed his little brother was nothing more than playful. It got a stuck out tongue in return most of the time. This time he simply tapped the desk next to where he'd placed the tea that had been steeping during their conference call. Although the smile that shone all the way to those giant plum eyes he'd recently started growing into so well was tangibly excited. "What do you think he's going to be like?Ithink it'd be neat to meet one like you, Big Brother." The smile Seto had for the teen soured instantly. "Mokuba," The name was snapped in a short warning as he snatched the much needed drink into his grip, an exasperated sigh following it as the bouncy teen hurried off with a cackle. One never knew when or where to speak of such things. The walls almost always had ears despite how incredibly tight Seto had made his security. As an Alpha, Seto had had every opportunity provided to him once he'd taken over. It had taken so much to get to there in the first place. He was a giant; leading in the tech and science departments. They'd even dove into the entertainment industry and made a huge boom because of it. Of course, there was only one small issue with all of this. One that could bring his company down to its knees.... Despite the fact that Kaiba Corporation only hired on Omega, the entire empire he had cultivated and grown over the years would wither and die the instant it was discovered that it was run by an Alpha. Not one to be bothered by these things under the stare of his brother, Mokuba made his way from the office and down the long corridor, reaching up and tightened the ponytail that held crazy onyx mane in place. He might not be meeting another Alpha, but he still wanted to make an impression. While he didn't dress in a well tailored suit like his bother, The tight black slacks and tailed button-up white shirt firmly pressed under a red vest sent off just enough of the 'business' vibes he was willing to put out there. He wasn't like his big brother, and he didn't run the corporation. Of course, it helped that he was an Alpha himself, but no one would have questioned him as he stood beside Seto Kaiba regardless. As it stood, no one either knew or needed to that he was what he was in the first place. Seto ran the company. Since he only hired on Omega's, it wouldn't matter whether the younger brother was one or not. And not surprisingly given Seto's immense figure, it had never really come up in the first place. So to be frank, he was somewhat excited that he was going to be able to out himself at the very least to their new guest. It wouldn't matter whether or not this one knew. The elevator dinged. And before the door even opened big amethyst eyes tightened into a crescent and a large smile plastered itself on his face without even the need to make it. "Hi! Welcome to Kaiba Corp!" The bubbly demeanor anyone who spent any small amount of time with him broke its way through all on its own and threw his arms out wide open. There was no way he could contain all this excitement, after all.

It was a sunny day, the perfect time for one to begin their Pokmon adventure. Many would set out with starry eyes and a Pokmon at their side, eager to challenge the many Gym Leaders and collect the badges that would mark them as experienced veterans of the Indigo League. A few would be interested in photography, while others would be more interested in collecting materials that would help groom their Pokmon to perfection for the various beauty pageants that took place for Pokmon in other regions. There were many reasons one could choose to go on an adventure. For Scarlett, her adventure would find her beginning on what might be considered familiar ground. Route 1 between Pallet Town and Viridian City was likely a path she had traveled upon frequently, though this would be the first time she did so without her father accompanying her on some business or other. It was also the first time that she had done so in her new quest, as she set out to learn and engage in the sort of research that would make her a world-renowned scientist. There wasn't a cloud in the sky, and the dirt path winding through the grassland stretched out before her. She couldn't see any Pokmon at the moment, though they were probably lurking in the tall grass somewhere along the way. With all her gear, and trusty Pokedex, Scarlett was all set to get underway. Professor Oak had advised that she get set up in Viridian City before beginning her research, though of course she wasn't compelled to listen to him if she didn't want to!

Heavy boots padded softly on the dirt path. A sixteen year old female who is a little on the tall side sauntered towards Viridian just as her father suggested. She had long brilliant red hair that was slightly curled and flowed down all the way to her plump ass, catching the breeze easily and dancing behind her as she moved. This was perhaps her most distinguished feature and had earned her the nickname Red among some. She had fair white skin that contrasted with her bright hair and bold blue eyes, which seemed to give her a commanding presence even among men and provided her with an unquestionable beauty. Light freckling on her nose and upper cheeks distinguished itself from her otherwise blemish free visage and resulted in her looking youthful. Her build resembled an hourglass with maturing breasts and thick hips on either side of her relatively thin waist. Scarlett was wearing the type of flamboyant outfit you could only expect from a trainer, a mix between a whore and an adventurer, but confident enough to prove that she was neither: A cloth red miniskirt that showed off her luscious thighs, a matching short-sleeved blouse that frilled an inch or two past her waist crisscrossed with a variety of pouches, bags, sacks, and belts kept vials, notepads, and a modified pokedex which she used for research particular form of research. Her boots were a similar red and they climbed far up her calves; her panties on the other hand were a cute pink that grasped tightly onto her pussy and showed a noticeable cameltoe whenever someone took an easy glance beneath her skirt. Although these panties were tight and uncomfortable on her now they were her favorite pair from when she was younger so she wore them for good luck with her impending adventure. The young professoress was very surprised that her father had finally consented to her will to go out on her own and study Pokemon first hand, and moments later here she was as prepared as her eagerness would allow her: starting her adventure. Aside from gear she would need to research she hadn't packed anything that would aid in extending her life. She was so naive that she failed to even pack a pokeball. So with what little thought she allowed through her excitement she made her way confidently down the path.

Tony Gunther was sitting with a groan in his family home on the edge of town in Wall Rose, they had farmland once in Wall Maria before the Wall was breached by the strange Armored Titan. He was a bit fit having been a former farmer and part-time hunter as the farmland went up to the forests. His hair was a messy brownish red, and he stood tall at six foot two, he looked bred to work a field and now instead he was hunting Titans and trying to stop them. But at the moment he was having a bit of a break. Everyone in the Scouts had to deal with certain urges and desires, a fair number of Scouts had been Betas because they were the most normal, but when it came to Alphas and Omegas they were rarer in the Scouts due to the dangers and risks of them having urges and needs. As a result generally when they were getting into fits or strained with desires, Tony and his girlfriend Sasha Braus had been on a break as their urges had generally synced up ever since they had gotten together as a couple during Scout training. Alphas and Omegas were given leave from the Scouts to handle urges and they were making the most of it. The pair were settled in for the evening, as Erwin worked on dinner for the two of them. He had to do most of the cooking or Sasha would eat everything before it made it to the table. But he didn't mind; he enjoyed her company, she was like him, direct and a bit simple to please. He hated being alone and she hated being hungry. She wanted to be around him and he had the food she wanted to eat - it was a give-and-take relationship but it worked. It didn't hurt that the sex was fantastic between them. She didn't have as much stamina as him, but she came closer than the others he had been with. "Dinner will be ready in another ten or so minutes, so make sure you are ready unless you want dessert beforehand..." Erwin teased flirtatiously. ~~~ Erwin Smith had a lot of things in his life: regrets, successes, questions, answers. He had a lot of things, but lately, he found himself to be a bit... frustrated. In his time as the leader of the scouts, he had seen many fresh-faced Scouts - many who ended up being eaten or crushed by Titans, or worse. He had tried to avoid being with anyone in the Scouts for anything meaningful than a few quickies to help with his urges. And yet... he had found that he wanted something more. As he looked over the roster for Levi's special team, there was a girl amongst them that had a connection to his closest friend in the Scouts, and it had been bothering him. He had been desiring the woman and the more he saw her, the more he wanted her. Though she seemed to be interested in Levi, or was with him - Erwin couldn't quite remember as he didn't like seeing the two of them together, so he avoided it as much as possible. However, he was planning to make a move on the woman sooner rather than later, as he looked out the window of his office overseeing the Courtyard. Levi, to his credit, had never been an easy read or please. The trail of half-broken and fainting Omegas had been a giveaway to that when he had gone through them during his mating seasons. Hange, Petra, and others had all fallen prey to his lusts and needs - but he wasn't satisfied. He was looking for something more. Someone who could satisfy his urges and desires. There were women who came close or handled him, but there was always something missing. Perhaps she was the one he needed to satisfy him; he had thought about her long before he entered these urges and desires.

Sweat glistened on Celeste's skin as she trained with the others. Doing some workouts and push-ups, and all that fun stuff. She wanted to be strong, she had to be strong in order to be with the survey corps and so that she wasn't seen as a simple weak omega. She hadn't yet experienced the heat of an alpha, and she wondered if she ever would, but that didn't stop some advances from others. Currently, though, she hung around the Betas more who were the more normal. Alphas made her feel weak, and they were so overbearing; and then the other omegas tried to one-up each other and show off, which really caused trouble, and she didn't want to be caught in the wrath of one of them. Eren was one that she hung around with most. He was the one she was currently training with because he never showed any interest in bedding her and they could spar without either suddenly having a desire for the other. She was panting out of breath as she and Eren kept going at hand-to-hand combat, as he was trying to teach her to defend herself. As she lunged forward, he easily dodged, grabbing hold of her twisting her arm and holding a wooden knife against her neck. "You really suck at this," he said roughly, out of breath himself. "How are you supposed to kill a titan if you can't defend yourself?" The girl groaned, frowning. She was quick but it was hard to overpower him. "I'm trying, Eren." She complained. He was pretty close, and it was sure to rise some anger from others when this happened, especially from Mikasa who watched from afar. Mikasa had watched from afar as Celeste and Eren spared together. She knew the reason why, and it was innocent enough, but it really got under her skin how easily Eren could touch her and get so close when he wouldn't even let her get that close. He stopped sparring with her recently too. She had known that everyone's behavior now was the reason, but the voice in the back of her head blamed the blonde more so. She tried so hard to keep herself in control and to keep herself in line with a cool head, but the urge to be near Eren was even stronger than she could have imagined. She was sure she couldn't control herself much longer. Her sparring partner definitely got the brunt of her anger, being slammed onto the ground by jabs. She wasn't going easy on them for sure. Sasha believed that she had the pick of the litter when she landed Tony. At first it really was for the food, but as time went on Sasha found herself attracted to the man and not just because he was a good cook or an alpha. It was genuine, and maybe him making food helped too. The sex was pretty great, and they easily took care of each other's desires. She could eat him up, literally, and that's why she appreciated this time they had been given to be together. Enjoying their food and company. Sasha watched from afar as her love cooked some very delicious-smelling supper that practically made her drool. She couldn't wait, and it was almost like he could read her mind! The girl was quick to come in close. "Hm, dessert sounds really good," she purred. "Smooth whip cream and juicy strawberries - it's almost like committing a crime having it before dinner." She replied, suddenly clinging to him. "Dinner is very tempting to have first though... such a yummy taste. I can't wait! Can't I just have a little sample?" She begged, wrapping her arms around him from behind. Her hands roamed his body with want. For both dinner and his dessert. "Then maybe I would be ready for a little dessert from my darling," the girl giggled softly. She knew what he meant by dessert but also expected some real dessert too. He really did spoil her, though.

Meg stepped out of the car that had taken her home. She took in a deep breath of the fresh air, having been locked up for the past six months after hiding her boyfriend who had escaped from prison. Slamming the door of the car and making her way to the front door, she slammed it open. The noise of the door opening startled the rest of the family, who were sitting and watching TV. They looked up at her, once awkward and anxious girl now a bit of a psycho made an announcement. "There are going to be some changes around here," she said. "First, you're all my bitches." She then slammed the door shut and stood there with arms crossed over her chest. As she stood there looking at their wide eyes, she knew she had their full attention. She then looked each one over as she asked her next question. "Now which one of you is the toughest one in this place?" Out of nowhere, Meg flew in and started punching and kicking Peter in his face after knocking him off the couch. When she was satisfied, she bent down and spit on his face. "It's my house now," she said. "Bitch." And it was. Over the next four days, Meg tormented her family but out of all of them, she tormented Peter the most. Relentlessly making fun of him because he was stupid, fat, had nothing to show for his life, even going so far as making him pleasure her with his tongue while she used a strap-on on her own mother, then making him clean the strap-on afterwards. The culmination of it all came on the fourth day when he was in the shower. Next thing he knew, Meg was shoving a loofah on a stick up his ass, causing him to scream as he begged her to stop, which could be heard throughout the house.

At first, Brian had tolerated Meg's new behavior because he had thought it was a phase. 'It would pass in time, and it wasn't a bad show.' Brian had thought, as prison had been good for Meg's body, if not her mind. The girl who had been dumpy and unassuming was now slimmer and well cut, with muscles, tattoos, and curves on display in a wife-beater. Brian could admit to himself that he was taken with the new look, but her personality needed help. As the harassment continued, Brian got progressively more and more annoyed, and more and more turned on. Meg had even raped Lois, giving Brian a front row seat to the woman of his dreams being railed by a strap-on. This got Brian thinking about how to 'kill two birds with one stone'. It was clear that whatever phase Meg was in wouldn't end easily, and the normal running of the home would have to return at some point. At the same time, Meg was now incredibly sexy, and Brian's lovelife was almost as much of a disaster as Peter's First Rodeo...but then again, at least someone was still getting fucked in that situation. So Brian decided to take full advantage of the situation, and bring Meg to heel in his own way. The family would thank him, and he would get his dick some much needed attention. Brian waited until Meg was in the shower, 'playing' with Peter no doubt, if the screams were any indication. His cock was already fully hard and on display, as he watched her walk to the bathroom to psych himself up. Brian opened the door during a particularly loud scream, to mask the sound. Brian walked towards the shower, with both Peter and Meg too distracted to notice. That changed when peter exploded out of the shower, throwing aside the curtain with the lofa still up his ass, and ran out sobbing. Brian launched himself at Meg, grabbing her by the arms and pinning her to the shower wall, with his hard and long cock at her entrance. "Here's how it's going to be; I'm going to fuck you, long and hard." Brian said, growling possessively "You will take this fucking and say thank you, like the little bitch you are, and if you're lucky: I won't make you eat out of my old bowl!" With that, he slammed his cock into Meg's waiting pussy and started to thrust savagely.

If there was one thing Charlotte Kennedy couldn't stomach, it was boredom. As far as she was concerned, it was a burden no one should have to bear. Increasingly, as of late, evading boredom meant another line of coke or another tab of acid or another hit of molly. But she was young, and hot, and that made it easy to get drugs. And the easiest way was just to date a drug dealer. And Charlotte was always easy. Trent, the aforementioned drug dealer boyfriend, was stressed for a leisurely drive, constantly checking his mirrors and looking over his shoulder. Totally killing her vibe. What's the deal, babe? Are we going to a party or an execution? He didn't answer, just eased up to the red light. Here, he said, digging something out of his pocket. A little baggie with two small white pills. Take them both. Charlotte didn't need to be told twice because she could not deal with his paranoia sober. From what she could tell, as she swallowed down both pills together, he was either taking her somewhere really fun or really boring. Fuck, this molly makes me thirsty. And fucking hot. She tugged at the low neckline of her thin white dress, peeling the cotton material away from sweat-damp skin. The sun might have gone down, but the humidity remained, turning her scandalously short dress into a moist rag that stuck to her skin. Yeah, well, you probably won't need to wear that dress for much longer; we're here.Herewas a mansion in the hills, long driveway lined with lush bushes in neat little rows. And then they reached the house. Garish, trying to fit too many styles on one building, between modern glass windows and traditional marble columns. Tudor accents on a ranch inspired sprawl. It didn't look like much of a party. No pulsing bass beat, no writing dancers, no freely flowing liquor. No wonder she was going to need the ecstasy; she was already bored. Hard men in neat suits circulated the long stretches of hallway, eying her and her now nearly sheer dress. They didn't talk much, and whatever they said amongst themselves was drowned out by the clicking of her stilettos on the marble floor. At the end of the hall, they entered an office, housing a very serious looking man in a fine Italian suit that barely fit his rippling physique. Trent introduced her to a very stoic nod, and she zoned out as they talked business, swaying and bobbing her head to music only she could hear. Cold hard eyes looked her up and down, betraying nothing but a casual boredom. Does he know how to suck dick? Do I know how to suck dick? Charlotte giggled, mocked, unable to take anything seriously while the ecstasy coursed through her veins. Still giggling as he urged her to her knees and worked open his pants. He wasn't very hard yet. Maybe he needed the ecstasy. She managed to stifle that giggle because a lot of guys didn't like it if you laughed while eye level with their junk and ran her tongue up the length of his shaft. It usually wasnt a big deal. She got high, she fucked some dude, or dudes, whatever, and they got some drugs. Trent would sell some, to keep them comfortable, and theyd do the rest. But lately, that rest was more and more, and their bills were piling up. So now she had to fuck some guy higher on the distribution chain, or so Charlotte figured. Her lips closed around his bulbous, throbbing head, and her tongue worked the slit and tasted his salty precum. Saliva drooled down his swollen cock, and her mouth followed, working more and more down her throat.

Trent had his head buried on the steering wheel of his car because Charlotte indeed knew how to suck a mean cock. He had firsthand experience, but as of now those talented lips belonged to someone else. Of course it was a trade that he was regretfully willing to make. Twenty thousand dollars of debt owed to a man like Victor Salaki left him with little choice in the matter. He sighed sadly once for Charlotte before starting up the car. At least Victor had been kind enough to toss five grand worth of heroin on top of wiping out the debt in return for his newest redheaded piece of ass. He needed a place to go, somewhere he could chill and wash the memory of this night away. Fortunately Trent knew several other women just like the one he was leaving behind. Whatever, within the hour he'd have some other whore wrapping her lips around his dick and this time around he'd make sure he wouldn't fall into debt with Victor again. At least that was the plan, but Trent was never very good at sticking to the script. She worked him over like a seasoned pro and it left Victor seeing dollar signs. So long as the bitch could keep taking orders this investment would pay itself off at a far more reliable rate than that young punk ever had managed to do. That power he had over the fates of losers like Trent and his latest slut of a girlfriend was the best drug on the market as far as he was concerned. Hands buried around the side of her head, guiding her sweet mouth up and down over his throbbing cock, forcing her to take him until she was gagging, that was up there too. But as much as sexual pleasure thrilled him, Victor was a man who took far greater pleasure in causing others to suffer under the rule of his tyrannical thumb. All he needed was an excuse to go off. "That's it bitch," Victor growls, gazing intently across the top of Charlotte's bobbing and swaying head. "You're gonna take every cock that I tell you to take." The strangled words fall from between his clenched teeth as he pulls himself free from those succulent warm lips. With a simple push from his boot against her chest, Victor knocks Charlotte over onto her back. He can see quite clearly how glazed over her eyes are, doped up as she is; he wonders if she even knows that Trent has abandoned her during the course of their silent barter. Victor starts to unbutton his shirt while he looms over Charlotte as she lies sprawled out beneath him. "Because you're my property now," he says, his voice low and menacing. "Your little retarded boy toy traded you in and settled up his debt." The tall and muscular man rolls his head upon his shoulders while his shirt continues to slowly fall open. "Now guess what? That debt is yours, and you're gonna make sure it's paid in full." The shirt hangs loose around his cut and chiseled physique as he reaches down and takes hold of Charlotte by her hair. "So shut up, do what you're told, and we'll get along just fine," Victor says, twisting his fingers like steel cords around her hair. "Now flip yourself over, get on your hands and knees, and stick that ass up in the air." Victor begins to slide out of his shirt, folding the expensive custom fit piece up into a neat bundle. He turns away to lay the garment down across the smooth mahogany surface of his desk, leaving Charlotte to either fall in line or face the consequences. Fate though intervenes as a vibration followed by a repetitive buzz sounded from Victor's cell phone where it was resting upon the table. He picks it up and sticks it against the side of his jaw. "Yeah?" His tone is sharp as he listens for a moment, ignoring the existence of Charlotte while his fingers stroke over the exotic puzzle box. "Alright, I'll be down in a minute." He ends the call abruptly, his piercing eyes linger on the box that his fingers remain steepled around before finally setting his newest acquisition down. "Just stay put and don't touch anything," Victor says to Charlotte without looking at her. "We'll finish this when I get back." He stuffs his still hard and saliva-smeared cock back into his dress pants and zips up. Without a glance then he strides past her to the stout double doors, opens them, and steps outside. With a resounding thud, the doors close and lock behind him.

Clouds pushed back into an alley's brick wall from the might of two others," I told you both to settle down or I'll make this physical." Now get out of my way." Through the steam of a sewer grate, Fran and Paine stand. I warned you! Cloud grabs Fran by her ear, bends her over, and spanks her. He walks towards Paine after tossing Fran into a puddle and grabs the hand her sword is in and pins her to the wall. His grip tightens around her hand and he kisses Paine passionately on the lips while pressing his body to hers.

Fran whines in discomfort as her ear is pulled and bent over Cloud's knee, receiving one spank. "One," he says loud enough for Pain to hear. Fran picks herself up from the puddle of water she was pushed into. She bites her lip and tries not to speak against Cloud. "We really didn't mean to start a fight with you, Sir Cloud. We're just kind of worked up and needed the EXP for our next mission." She whines and rubs her sore bottom. She takes a stance to go at him again for practice, but he grabs the sword in my hand and pins me to the wall. "Who's idea was it to do this in the first place?!" Fran narrows her eyes and looks over Cloud's shoulder. "Dang it Pain, why did you suggest this in the first place? It's all your fault I got spanked." Pain chuckles a bit. "Sorry Fran, dear." But I just wanted to see if you could handle master's hands," she smirks a bit and smiles at Cloud as she walks over to him with her weapon still covered by her hip. She moans against his lips and opens her mouth for him to explore right in front of Fran in the alley way. She feels like their master is a bit excited from dominating over Fran a little bit. Pain knows how Fran is the submissive in their threeway relation, so she can't help but feel very sorry. "Let her go, Cloud...Please. Maybe she'll obey if you just ask her too. She's really a good bunny at my place if you just allow her some private time to come out of her edgy exterior." She then shoves her tongue into Cloud's mouth and gently grabs and fondles his ass.

By Elune," the Elven priestess said as she opened the heavy wooden door to the cottage. "You make everything more difficult Vala, has anyone ever told you that?" she said irritably as she kicked off her simple cloth boots as soon as she stepped inside, feeling the cool, aged oak against the soles of her feet. Kyndraea lifted her heavy satchel off of her shoulders, tossing it haphazardly against the wall before making her way over to the nearest chair, practically falling down into it with a small grunt. She slid the empty chair beside her over and kicked her feet up onto it, finally settling down into some much needed relaxation. It didn't last long as Kyn noticed her Draenei companion enter, shutting the door behind her without locking it. "Gah! You never remember to lock the door!" the elf spat out in frustration, the stresses of the day driving her wild reaction to such a small thing. With a sigh she agonized as she stood up out of her chair, walking over to the door and properly locking it. "Just because of that, you're starting the fire!" The priestess exhaled loudly, as if she was trying to exorcise her annoyance, as she made the unbearably long journey back to her chair, plopping down once more. "I don't even know why I bring you along on these outings, I do all the work!" Kyndraea said, partly out of irritation, but also because she knew that it would aggravate her companion. If she was going to suffer, she certainly wasn't going to do it alone. "I don't know how you survived before you met me. With how much I have to heal you, you'd think you were facing the entire Legion out there, not a handful of bandits!" The elf set her elbow up on the table beside her, leaning the side of her head lifelessly in her palm and letting her eyelids drift shut.

Were all priestesses this nagging or was it only the elves?" Vala couldn't know truly, having only ever known one - Kyndraea - and right now, she was really wishing she had picked out a different companion all those years ago. Kyndraea was a piece of work, no doubt about that, but she was also a skilled healer and spellcaster in combat, and being devoid of any magical talents herself and relying on sword and shield for her protection, the Draenei wasn't in any position to boot her off. Not that she would want to anyway. She might be worse than a blithering croon when she was stressed, but she was still her closest friend, and rival, if one wants to get into all those labels. Right now though, she was more befitting of the blithering croon moniker. No words were given by Vala as she entered after Kyn into the cozy little cottage they called home, albeit temporarily while they had business in the region. Mirroring the slender elf, the Draenei slid off her leather gloves and boots and tossed them carelessly to the side, letting them fall on the oak where they may, and went to hang up her sword and shield so she could finally get out of this unbearably hot gambeson. She was wearing nothing underneath, only covering below her waist with some briefs and girdinh her sizable chest with some bandages, her pale white body glistening with sweat from the heat and exertion. "Hey, I'm the one doing the heavy lifting here, princess. You just stand behind me like a scared little bitch and do your little magic hands thing," Kyndraea rebutted, padding over to where she was sitting so she could hop up onto the table she was leaning on, crossing her legs as she slouched against the wall. "And what kind of priestess complains about healing? That is literally your job description!" she exclaimed with equal fervor, furiously drinking up the ale she'd managed to bag from the bandits they'd just slaughtered.

Gromar Lion-Fang skulked among the heavy treeline atop of the embankment. Below, his allies were slaughtering and being slaughtered by a swathe of Aquilonian mercenaries, heavily armed and well prepared for such an assault. He took a deep breath and held it as he aimed his bow and loosed the nocked arrow. It found its mark between the heavy mail and steel helmet of his foe. The man fell with a spurt of blood and a gargle, but not before plunging his spear into the ribs of the Pict ahead of him. Three mercenaries remained and only two Picts, one of which was Gromar. The rest lay dead or dying, their parting groans horrifically clear from the treeline. Lion-Fang went to draw another arrow as the Aquilonians surrounded his remaining ally, but felt nothing save for an empty quiver. He unleashed a guttural and bestial roar, a tactic commonly used by the Picts to instil fear. Two men turned, and with rapid and tiger-like reflexes he hurled his firststeel hatchet, landing with a death-dealing crunch in the 'Y' shape of his enemy's helmet. The final Pict fell as the mercenary plunged his blade through her chest. Yet her spirit did not wane. She drew the steel dagger that hung from her belt and thrust it into his eye. He screamed in agony whilst she laughed maniacally. Together they fell in a solemn embrace to their death. Gromar and one man remained. The mercenaries' eyes scanned the treeline as prey would search for their predator, to no avail. A Pict could go unnoticed, unseen for as long as they wished in the woods of the world. But he knew he was there. Come out and face me you dog, the man roared with a confidence that belied his fear. Lion-Fang happily obliged. From the forest he came, a hulking predator bare chested and painted in white. His arms spread wide and death in his eyes. Atop the slope he was a giant among men, a primitive and savage beast with a lust for blood. In an instant he charged with a speed like no other, only enhanced by the steep decline. The Aquilonian had barely swung his blade by the time he was tackled; helmet flung from his fragile head. Gromar struck with his right, then his left. Two thundering blows that cracked and killed the mercenary. He stood from his killing frenzy, his scarred form marred with fresh blood, sweat, and smeared paint. His eyes darted about the battlefield, at the numerous dead, both friend and foe. Twelve had come through the Bossonian Marches in his warband yet only he remained. Gromar's eyes darted to the carriage and he trudged through the dead and flung aside the richly decorated door. He tilted his head to the side, his long ponytail adorned with copper and bone circlets flailed beside him. He grinned and began to laugh at his discovery.

It had taken her so long to convince her father to let her travel from Venzia to Lireigh. Close enough to the western sea, Arianne had always wanted to see the snow of Vanaheim. Her father had been against it, naturally. His only daughter, her mother lost in childbirth, his natural reaction had been to shelter his little desert rose. Months had been spent wearing down his resistance, while soothing his fears. What if they were attacked? They could hire mercenaries. He would have hired them normally anyway, right? They could hire a few more. She couldn't help but feel bad, pushing at her father the way she did but Arianne felt stifled. Who she saw, the parties she went to, all were curated by her father. The world was vast and she desired nothing more than to see it, both in its beauty and brutalities. Sheltered, she was far from ignorant. Arianne had early on taken to reading everything she could, desiring to be free of her gilded cage. Her father meant well, Arianne knew and it was hard to blame him for the way he restricted her.. It didn't change her own desires however. The carriage rocked back and forth lazily andArianefelt the motion along with the warmth of the day lulling her to sleep. The heavy weight of her flaxen hair had been braided, in hope of relieving some of the heat that the carriage seemed to trap as it traveled beneath the sweltering sun. Occasionally her guards would allow her to ride a horse, allowing the breeze to cool her ivory skin. Today though, as they traveled adjacent to the Alimane river. She'd seen from the small window the reason for concern. Along the right hand side was a rise, dotted with trees. A perfect place for an ambush, she'd been informed. Shifting against the cushion, her back pressed to the corner of the carriage, Arianne fought and failed to keep her golden eyes open. Lazily her lashes lifted and fell, once, twice.. In her dreams, she was weightless, unbeknownst to the dreaming maiden, she was for a moment as the carriage tipped. The scream of a frightened horse was the first thing to pierce the haze of her dream, and the impact of her small body slamming into the wooden paneling of the carriage. The shock was the only thing that kept her silent, not that anyone would have heard her cry as the Picts rushed them and swords were drawn. Carefully, she rose, though not foolish enough to leave the relative safety of the carriage. Desperate, Arianne wished to know what was transpiring. An innocent, sheltered maiden, she'd never heard the sound of another dying a brutal death, and though muffled, she heard it now. The gurgle as blood spilled from mouths, the raspy last breaths. A shout, one of her men. A flicker of hope surged through her. They were still alive! At least one... The shout giving her more information that she'd a moment ago. Perhaps they were the only two? The guard and the 'dog' he shouted to face him? The battle was brief and she heard a body hit the floor, the thud muffled but clear. However, there was no call that it was safe. A frown pulled at her pretty mouth. Perhaps they were checking to be sure? The door above her head opened and her pale face turned upwards. Sun blinded her for a moment, bathing her features in golden light. Features carved in delicate perfection. A celestial nose, graceful arching brows, high cheekbones and full, pale pink lips. Thick lashes shadowed eyes of honey, flecked with gold. A face filled the doorway and it wasn't her guard. The Pict took in his prize and a spike of fear laced through her moments before he began to laugh. Shifting, her frown curled along her lips, her brows drawing upwards. Shifting, her dress shifted, showing the supple length of her thighs, the creamy flesh warmed by the sun. She'd heard tales of what happened to captives... A virgin, she knew nothing of the touch of a man and Arianne had little desire to be raped. Options weighted, she moved again, hand slipping from view. Something black and gold could be seen a second before a flash of silver as she lifted the blade, hand shaking. Dark lashes fell, the intent clear. She'd take her own life before allowing him to touch her. She should have moved faster, hesitated less... Arianne didn't wish to die. To leave her father heartbroken and filled with grief... yet what other choice did she have?

Judgment day, graduation day, it comes once a week, a new swath of cadet judges take the final practical exam. Three out of five die in their first day, only one out of five become full Judges. For Judge Anderson, it was his least favorite day of the week. He had failed a number of rookies, made wrong judgment calls, and a few had wound up dead. He was getting really tired of taking rookies onto the streets of Megacity One. So when the Chief Judge asked for his presence in the hall, he already had a good idea of what he was being called into. What he didn't understand was why this one felt different. Walking through the halls with the Chief Judge, he was given Cadet Alpin's file. He sighed and looked it over. "She was fast-tracked." He could tell because she was 22, fresh out of the academy but had only been in the system for a little while. In fact, her file didn't have her birthday listed. "Unregistered birth? What is she, a Judges bastard?" He could get away with some uncouth questions. He was one of the oldest judges in the halls and probably would be in the lead for names of the next Chief judge, but even his access could only get him so much information. "No, we wouldn't send a case of nepotism to you. She's a genuine cadet, we need someone to be tough on her." Anderson scoffed for a moment. "Your job is to assess if she's a threat?" "A threat?" He raised an eyebrow at that. "She's a rookie, but her augmentations make her unique. She has tech that outpaces our own by years. The science division wanted to bisect her, rip apart all of the shiny chrome in her system." "Why didn't they?" "Her system would apparently scrape itself if broken down. She's useless to us dead, alive we might be able to use her chrome to our advantage, but if she has any rogue tendencies than she's better off useless than against us. If she fails her judgment, the sentence is death." It sounded cruel, and it was a bit different than the usual cases, but the truth was most who failed their judgment died anyway. The only difference would be the one who is pulling the trigger. "Understood sir. I'll meet her outside the hall.

Tugging at her uniform, Nesrin felt out of place. It wasn't some figment of her imagination either. Despite her dress blues, crisp lines and shiny buttons, just like everyone else in her graduating class... She wasn't the same. No, even trying to fit in, she stood out. Nesrin was tiny, but that alone wasn't what caused her to stand out. It wasn't her wealth of blue-black hair either, pinned into a bun at the nape of her neck. Hell it wasn't even her green eyes, so bright they were almost feline in their shade of green. That too, might have been explained away as just some odd genetics or even a mutation. No, it was all the shiny chrome in her body and visible between the bottom of her cuff to her pristine white gloves. There was no skin, but silver and blue. If all that precious chrome wasn't odd enough, she had been fast tracked. Nesrin wasn't stupid... She understood what was on the line. If she wasn't an asset, she wasn't useful, she'd be decommissioned. It wouldn't matter that the chrome, the tech that was woven into her very being would be no more than scrap if they tried to take it and not even useful scrap. Her body, from what she understood would sort of self-destruct, after a fashion at least if they tried to dissect her. Nesrin couldn't remember her parents. It might have been a blessing in disguise. For it wasn't only her parents she couldn't remember, but her years before coming to the judges. Nesrin doubted that her early life was sunshine and rainbows. In the academy she had excelled, stellar marks across the board. Her augments, all that chrome came in use, thought the full extent of what was her and what was augmented was unknown. She was to report to Judge Anderson outside of the hall. The instructions had been relayed and Nesrin breathed out, trying to quiet her nerves. Hurrying to change, she didn't think keeping her assessor waiting would be wise. Once in her gear, she felt less out of place, her armor hid her differences a lot better than her blues. The body armor masked her sex and with the helmet on, the only giveaway was the small shoulders. Checking everything one more time, she took the stairs two by two, excited and nervous. She'd been trained for this and she knew her price of failure. If a rookie didn't die and failed, they were released or they could work as auxiliaries. Coming to stand before him, Nesrin's voice, honeyed and sweet, was soft. "Rookie Alpin, reporting" It wasn't the voice of a judge.

May 22, 1968 Baltimore, MD The breeze gently blew the gauzy curtains through the open windows. It was a relief to finally be able to open the windows and get some fresh air again after the long, dreary winter. Down in the street a cop car went by with its sirens on, but that wasn't cause for alarm since it continued on its way. The upstairs neighbors shouted and May winced when someone threw something that smashed, but nothing fell past her window to the pavement below. The windows in the bottom floors of 374 North Gay Street had finally been replaced, and the residents of the three-story apartment building above the shop simply expressed gratitude that they'd been too high for the rioters to reach. Mrs. Williams had had a rock thrown through her window, just above the machine shop, and it had taken all of them going to the landlord's private residence to get it replaced. Not that they had exactly marched there or anything, but arrived in twos and threes so no one would think the Negros were getting "uppity" again. May had been at Dr. King's memorial, but had left early and didn't understand how a peaceful gathering had devolved into the violence he had spent his life working against. There was a knock on the door just as she was moving the last batch of cookies from the pan to a plate. Without bothering to put a shirt on under the vest which made her technically not topless, May opened the door after sliding back the three locks on the door. This part of town was dangerous, but it was all she could afford. After she had settled in and the neighbors' natural mistrust subsided she had come to rely upon some of them, but realized that locks were still necessary. Still, she knew she should probably break herself of the habit of opening the door without looking through the peep hole. "Can I help you?" Her smile had faltered a little once the door was fully open. She had been caught off-guard, and her eyes flitted nervously over the body of the man at her door. She didn't trust people like him. But then her eyes fell on the name tag on his uniform and the smile reappeared. "I guess you're Jack," they had spoken on the phone and his last name was familiar. She tugged absently on a lock of her frizzy hair and giggled self-consciously. "Sorry, you just surprised me was all. I didn't know...you didn't say...I mean, woulda been nice to know that you were...y'know..." May shifted uncomfortably and paused for an awkward amount of time, then leaned in and lowered her tone, "in the military." She looked around as if trying to keep a secret, then stood aside. "Well, I guess it's alright if you left all that back in the jungle. I mean, you had to get here in peace somehow, right? Don't want any trouble, y'know? Come on in, don't be shy. I made cookies!" She smiled brightly, as if proud of herself. The apartment was small, but tidy. Indeed the smell of cookies pervaded the flat. The living room was furnished with a small coffee table in front of a dilapidated couch which looked like it had had one too many run-ins with a cat's claws, and two bean bag chairs. A large, full bookshelf was on the far wall next to an entry way that led to a kitchen where a plate of cookies waited on the small table, still warm. On the wall to the right was a window next to which stood a record player and a stack of vinyls. May led John to the left just before the kitchen, however, and they were faced with a short hallway. "That's the bathroom," she pointed to the door at the end of the hallway, "my room's on the right, yours is on the left." While the bathroom still had an actual door, the ones to the bedrooms had been taken away and both replaced with bead curtains. The curtain to May's room was currently tied back with a gauzy pink ribbon. "My last roommate got drafted, so I guess I don't gotta worry about that with you. So yeah, that room's yours, but if you ever get lonely or anything I'm just right across the hall, you can come on in. I like snuggling, I'm a snuggle monster." She bit her lip and grinned. "Sooo...is this all your stuff? I mean, do ya need help moving in or do you want something to eat? I've got sandwich stuff. Or are cookies good for now?

It didn't seem like a bad neighborhood, he decided. Not the quietest or most upscale, mind, but nicer than Oakland Army Base had been and damn sight better than Qung Tri, or Cam L, or any of those flyspeck rice paddies in Nam. Five years he'd been there, making Sergeant and then a field promotion to Second Lieutenant after their platoon leader - a jug-eared West Point volunteer - had caught a bullet with his face at Song Ve. Like the man said, War was hell. But John Samson Sparrow had been pretty good at it, and Hell wasn't much worse than being a part-Apache Negro man in Texas, so he'd reenlisted. Probably still be there, too, if he hadn't been medically discharged. So now, here he was in Baltimore with a GI Bill and an acceptance to Johns Hopkins University and $300 in his pocket. He'd stayed at the Y for a week, before he'd found an ad for a room to rent. The woman on the other end of the phone had sounded nice enough, and the rent fit his mostly nonexistent budget, so beggars and discharged soldiers couldn't be choosers. Ignoring some of the stares he was getting - as much for his olive drab field jacket as for his brown skin - Jack pushed open the stairwell door behind the machine shop and limped up a flight of stairs. Second floor wasn't bad, he decided. Not enough to make his leg ache too badly. And finding number three wasn't hard, since there were only two doors on the floor. Drawing a deep breath, he knocked. After a moment multiple locks clicked and the door swung open to reveal a pretty white woman in a beaded vest and hip-hugger bell-bottoms and not much else. "Can I help you?" she said, offering a sunny smile that faded and turned nervous as she looked him over. Oh, yeah. This was gonna go well. "Yeah, I'm..." Suddenly, the smile was back. "I guess you're Jack." "Yep, that's me. And you must be May?" She tugged absently on a lock of her frizzy hair and giggled self-consciously. "Sorry, you just surprised me was all. I didn't know...you didn't say...I mean, woulda been nice to know that you were...y'know..." Oh, fuck yeah. This was gonna be Goddamngreat. "Hey, look. I ain't looking for trouble. I just need a place..." "In the military," she whispered, leaning in like she was telling a secret. He tried not to stare at the way her tits swayed as she did. "...what?" He blinked. "Oh, the coat. Nah, mustered out a couple of weeks ago." "Well, I guess it's alright if you left all that back in the jungle," she decided, stepping aside. "I mean, you had to get here somehow, right? Don't want any trouble, y'know? Come on in, don't be shy. I made cookies!" She smiled brightly, as if proud of herself. "Cookies," Jack repeated, feeling like he was being hit by a bubbly truck as he stepped in. The place wasn't bad. Small, but bigger than the barracks he was used to, with a threadbare couch and some beanbag chairs and a bookcase. The odor of cookies mingled with something floral and some sort of incense, and everything looked to have been salvaged and repaired. "That's the bathroom," she pointed to the door at the end of the hallway, "my room's on the right, yours is on the left." "There's... no doors?" Jack asked, staring down the short hall. Both bedrooms just had bead curtains. "Well, guess I'll deal." Walking with a slight limp, he headed into his bedroom and tossed his duffel bag on the mattress. It was just a mattress on the floor in one corner, with a closet and an empty dresser to go with it. Beads rattled as May leaned against the doorframe. "My last roommate got drafted, so I guess I don't have to worry about that with you," she said. He chuckled, tossing his jacket on top of the bag. Underneath, he wore a brown t-shirt that stretched over muscle as he moved. "Nope. Got drafted back in 63, and I doubt they'll call me back." He glanced back at her. "You cool with this? Me taking this room and all?" "So yeah, that room's yours," she assured him, "but if you ever get lonely or anything I'm just right across the hall, you can come on in. I like snuggling, I'm a snuggle monster." He gaped at that, just a little, before shutting his mouth. If she'd been a sister, he'd be down with that. But a white woman? Well, he was still down for that, but he needed to check the lay of the land. No sense getting lynched over a bit of white tail, even fine white tail like hers. She bit her lip and grinned. "Sooo...is this all your stuff? I mean, do ya need help moving in or do you want something to eat? I've got sandwich stuff. Or are cookies good for now?" "What you see is what you get," he assured her. "Might need a hand with moving stuff in once I get some stuff, though. Army don't exactly encourage collecting. And cookies sound good, yeah." He followed her back into the living room and flopped onto the couch to unlace his boots. They were practical things, not stylish - battered and scarred black combat boots that laced up over the ankles. He sighed with relief and wiggled his toes as the first boot came off. He didn't wiggle the toes of his left foot when that boot came off, though. After all, there weren't any toes. Just a foot-shaped block of dark brown plastic that thumped a little as he set it down. "That's better," he grunted. "Hey, you need a hand with those cookies?

Faern. The Year of the Worm, 1356 DR by Dale Reckoning (DR). The continent brews with hardships, and had been for nearly a decade. After unknown thieves steal the Tome of the Unicorn from the Green Library, Ruathym's forces sink a Luskanite caravel. In return, Luskan wipes out most of Ruathym's fleet, then invades the island of Ruathym. It would be months before the islanders would repel the invaders. The armies of Waterdeep, Amn, and Baldur's Gate besiege Dragonspear Castle for nearly two months before succeeding in burning it down, defeating the baatezu within in a conflict known as the Dragonspear War. Little did they know it was but the first conflict of that name. The Red Wizards of Thay open a portal to the Elemental Plane of Fire and summon forth a great number of fire elementals to assault their neighboring lands. In their folly and arrogance, the Red Wizards laid the groundwork for the Salamander War, which would begin officially in the following year. The trading settlement of Triboar in the North, one of the first settlements that was founded in the Dessarin Valley, is sacked. Refugees flee northwards, to Mirabar and Silverymoon. A roaming band of goblinoid forces, devils and dark mages ravage the Sword Coast. Baldur's Gate is under direct assault and overland traffic in northern Amn is all but closed. The second war-between-dales begins as Lashan Aumersair, Lord of Scardale attempts to reunite Dalelands under a common banner. His forces managed to defeat Featherdale, Battledale and Harrowdale but were eventually stopped at Mistledale by a coalition of Dales powers and united soldiers from Cormyr, Hillsfar, Sembia and even Zhentil Keep. Dark tidings were afoot. None knew it, but the Age of Humanity was coming to an end. The Age of Upheaval was closing in. But this story is not about the Time of Troubles. It is a story of strangers, of blood and coin... and Heroes. This tale begins within the country of Amn. Amn, also known as the Merchant's Domain, is a tremendously wealthy nation in West Faern. Amn holds colonies far away in the savage land of Maztica. It controls important trade routes to Calimshan and Baldur's Gate as well as colonial ports in the Moonshaes and Chult. Its population, mostly human with a large minority population of halflings, is historically in the range of 3 million. The country's natural resources and wealth, combined with its mercantile nature made Amn to become one of the most important and influential trading centers throughout Faern. The crowning jewel of this powerful state is the capital city of Athkatla, founded in 100 DR in official documents and often known as the "City of Coin." To the north-west of the port city of Murann. At the westernmost edge of the small cluster of mountains known as the Small Teeth. The northern point of the land crescent that imprisoned Tarseth bay. A tiny, nameless village. Forgotten by history, of so little mercantile worth as to not be inked upon maps. A place where adventure should, normally, never be found. This is where the story begins. It was in a small tavern along a main road, upon a billboard that the bounty was presented. The parchment read: WANTED! The fine city of Dagheim seeks individual(s) of stout body and mind for secretive mission for the good people of the fine city of Dagheim. Inquiries to be made with possession of this document at the mayoral home of Dagheim. Individual(s) are to present themselves by the 30th day of the month of Ches of the year of the Worm, 1356 DR. No tardiness will be tolerated for this mission. And it was signed by a flourish so wild it was basically indecipherable. The document was less than impressive. It was vague. There was nothing catchy about it, no large sums of money or terrifying foes to defeat. Why, it could be anything at all. The local barkeep wanting to be rid of rats or something. But the thing had been taken off of its bounty board and rolled away. The one that had taken it had been struck curious by the oddity of the request. He had decided to travel to the fine city of Dagheim and attempt to uncover why such a hidden place would want for adventurers in such a way that open bounties would be placed in taverns and inns along major roads. At least, the instructions to reach the fine city of Dagheim were clear enough, if a bit wordy. From Murann, the interested party needed to walk along the shoreline for a half-days trek. At the roots of the Small Teeth, that is where they would find Dagheim. And sure enough, there it was. And for a moment, the adventurer stood there, his hands to his hips, still holding the bounty parchment. He wondered why such an idyllic-looking hamlet would ever need one like him. His name was Bjorn. He was a barbarian, born of a place far away, beyond the Trackless Sea. His travels had brought him to many lands. Now, the fur-and-leather-clad man was in Faern and had decided to pursue this peculiar demand for aid. As he approached the village, a pair of men eyed him, as they were just about to push their small fishing raft back into the waters, heavy with nets and hooks. They were barefoot and with their trousers rolled up to their ankles but had knitted turtleneck sweaters on. The month of Tarsakh was ending and the warm times of summer were within a few weeks time. Oy! Yere ere for the bounty? The man nodded. Ye should head for the mayor's house! It's the big one, can't miss it! The man nodded again, before moving towards the fishermen. He pointed with his head for them to step into their raft. The duo blinked, looking at one another. One of the two eyed the stranger warily, but the other simply slapped his companion on the shoulder with a grin. Why refuse free help? They hopped in and the barbarian moved behind the small, sail-less rowboat. Gripping one end and holding it to his shoulder, his boots dug into the sand and he heaved forward, launching them a good twenty feet into the waters, much to the delight of the men who waved goodbye. Brushing the sand off his hands, he smiled lightly and waved at them, before walking along the sandy shore, heading for the town center. It was a tiny village, with perhaps a hundred souls, if that. The savage glanced here and there but noticed no weapons. Of course, everyone had a dagger on them but those were mostly used as tools. There were spears and hooks resting at the end of the pier in a bucket, but those were fishing implements. An old wood axe next to un-split piles of flotsam upon the beach. His face shifted ever so slightly when he realised that there were absolutely no weapons of any kind in the village. None. Not a single bow, sword or shield. No scout tower, or a single guard. How did they defend themselves? A seagull suddenly squawked overhead, flying out towards the waters. Bjorn looked up, following it with his eyes, turning his head as it seemed to fly on towards the horizon Then, something in his peripheral vision caught his attention and he turned his head slightly. The fishermen seemed to watch him, even from upon their rowboat. Bjorn kept what questions he had to himself, instead focusing on finding the tallest building. From afar, it looked like a small wooden temple. But it was, in fact, a home. A rather generous one, at that. When he arrived at its front, there was a woman sitting behind a desk, under an awning. Blinking, he approached the woman who smiled at him. Welcome, sir! Are you here for the bounty? Yes. Excellent! I would ask for you to please go inside and wait in the main area. There is food and there are drinks on the dining table. Please, feel free to eat. The mayor of our village is hopefully waiting for a few adventurers such as yourself and would like to meet you all at once, to explain our situation. I do hope youll be able to help us, sir. I will try to help as best I can.He said simply and plainly, being unable to lie. The woman smiled at him again, before getting up and pushing the door open for him. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the sudden contrast of dim candlelight, especially when compared to the bright midday sun that stopped just a few feet after the open doors. The woman outside spoke about other adventurers Perhaps someone else was already here?

Sea of Swords. Some would say a very appropriate name for the waters, so much and so little known of what happened beneath the waves but all of it having some sliver of edge to it. One can never know what can come up to shore. At the break of dawn, just as the orange hue broke at the bottom of the starlit sky, at the quiet docks, a head broke the surface of the cove, it looked as though a skull of a fish, like some supernatural undead rising beneath the tide, but with one more silent lift, beneath the top teeth of the crown, two human...ish seaglass eyes peered up to the wood of the pier and then two athletic arms covered in gray scales with cyan spots reached and took hold. The creature lifted herself into a pull up, revealing her half-human, half-aquatic form, the top of a lass and the bottom of a fish. Luna managed to wriggle herself upon the wharf, crawling her way out of Tareseth Bay, and as her curvy and strong form made it further and further out of the murk, her mermaid tail was already beginning to twitch and change, the scales splitting at the spine, bones breaking and reforming with loud cracks as Luna growled from the pain, a deep primordial trill due to this new and agonizing sensation, her second layer of teeth briefly extending over her more human-looking incisors, sharp and like a piranha. Though eventually, as she laid stomach first upon the planks, that aquatic-mammal tail had changed into two human-like legs, save for her scales that were left from thigh to ankle, it being a leftover sign of her species, or more specifically, the mixture of her lineages. As the pain subsided Luna sighed, wet hair hanging over her shoulder, and shakily she stood her trembling form up, nude from the waist down, toned legs quivering as she slowly became upright, her second-set-of-fangs retracting as her head fell backwards and she exhaled deeply into the morning air. "Umm..miss?" Luna's head fell forward curiously, most of the scales of her arms and back having receded beneath porcelain flesh, even her fin-like ears shrinking down to a more oval-ish shape beneath her long maroon tresses. Almost as though she were a true land-dweller. She blinked, looking far too innocent considering the transformation she just underwent. An older man, an early riser to the fishery, stood a few feet down the dock, a younger woman beside him, probably of familial relation, looking exceedingly anxious,"Uh...need any...help?" Luna blinked, her head tilting to the left quizzically. The younger woman elbowed him, and the two shared a gentle knowing glance, and he turned back to her,"You...are you here for the bounty?" Normally he would have asked that first of a newcomer, but with her marine traits, something unseen to common knowledge had warned him against it. Luna again, staring appropriately like a fish, felt her thoughts race, her ambitions and curiosities counting themselves out as though on an abacus, and she felt like a chance had been laid down at her feet. She should take it. She smiled gently, like one unaware of culture norms,"Yes,"Luna lied, only feeling a small twinge of guilt doing so,"I am." "Ah well you'll...you'll want to be off to the mayor's house then, the uh, the big one up that away." "Thank you." Luna continued smiling, but a bit more genuinely, and she took her first step, her ankle immediately leaning to the side, in confusion of its own use, and almost plopping her right back down to the deck, but her other leg staying sturdy. She was a wobbly thing for the first few steps, like a baby animal, but she had the natural balance to help her learn quick enough. The Father and Daughter stepped to the side, allowing a wide berth for her to step around them, though the maiden let her head tilt as she gave an eye to her backside. With that mass of muscle that was her merfolk tail having to convert somewhere on her form, the tendons reformed and went taunt around her calves and thighs, but there was a special tautness just beneath the long wavy curtain of hair that the human lass couldn't help but mumble,"Ah, ass like a peach, that one.." "Merida." Her father scolded. "Sorry Da." The fisherman seemed hesitant, but after a second, just when Luna was stepping from wood to solid ground, he piped up,"Uh!"Luna looked over her shoulder, cerulean eyes big yet piercing, and he gulped before adding with an intention of kindness...or perhaps just propriety, "You might want to...put some clothes on. Not really normal for a lady to just be,"He did everything in his power not to glance down at the spherical mounds attached to the top of her thick thighs, "Out...like that." Another moment of the ruby-haired woman's staring, processing every thought in real time it seemed, looking the two land-dwellers up and down, taking in their garbs and the emphasis of just how much of themselves they kept covered and then she smiled again,"Of course." And wandered off, the daughter taking a step around her Pa to get one last look, sorry to see her go but not unhappy with watching her leave, to which her father grabbed her hand and yanked her towards their fishing boat,"Oh what am I gonna do with you." The land-dwellers seemed to have acted a bit odd to her arrival, or maybe not, truly it was a challenge to know for certain, but the way they scrutinized her legs, she assumed their garb was really important to their culture. She walked low, snooping about, and came across a hanging robe, tied to either side of opposite posts, and some garments just hanging about. Damn for some reason. How kind, perhaps they were set out for this exact sort of situation. Luna grabbed a shirt, clearly a man's long sleeved blouse, and a skirt, similar to the one she saw that human woman wearing, and tugged them onto her form. The shirt was backwards but she could tell enough visually of where her arms were supposed to go and where her head fit, and the skirt she put on was inside out, all unknowingly to her of course, as it looked fine in her eye. She took off the coral-leather and stone belt she already possessed, putting over the waist of the top and bottom, unknowingly cinching it around her waist in a flattering manner, and then once looking appropriate for the surroundings, in her mind, she began to wander. As the day marched on, her hair dried into long unruly waves. She spotted what had to be the mayor's house from its size and grandeur, but her curiosity beckoned her to walk about and enjoy everything that was just so, 'new' to her, looking around the little town, a few heads suspiciously glancing at the fish skull she wore, though she paid it little mind, and eventually she did circle back to address this 'bounty' and she was guided to the dining area, instructed by a woman, and she was left alone with a table of food. She began to circle it like the predator she was, frowning at the unfamiliar assortment, and landing on the fire of a candle, her pupils dilating slightly as she became intrigued by it's flickering until she reached for the wax stalk itself, and picked it up with little care, just as she heard the door open. Luna looked to see a lumbering land-dweller standing at the doorway, and she blinked back at him. He didn't seem like he owned the place, but how was she supposed to know what that sort of person would look like? In the process of her registering his arrival, the melted wax slid down its stem and the hot oil met her grasping fingers and she hissed like a snake, dropping the item and letting it clatter unceremoniously to the ground, thankfully the fire went out due to the collision, but what also came out was her underlying incisors, glaring down at the object with disdain from its sudden attack, waving her hand in the air beside her shoulder in irritated confusion, however, after a few seconds of realizing it was but a sting, her green-blue eyes looked back to him, and she pondered if that was an acceptable human response, as she was slightly disguised as one now considering the skirt hiding her scales and all, "uh," Luna tried to shake off any possible suspicion, attempting to behave as the land-dwellers do, by inquiring, her eyes looking left and right as though she were already anticipating a 'no',"Hello...Are you who I'm supposed to be waiting for?

Chapter 1 -- Begin Anew *** Having escaped Cyrodiil, it took a couple of days to cross the mountains. Unfortunately, she hadn't enough warm clothing to keep the worst of the cold at bay. Being an Imperial, she was barely capable of withstanding cold naturally, but when the wind whipped up snow into her face, leaving her half blinded as she walked along, even her teeth would chatter as it cut straight through her lin cloak. The weather cleared as crested the mountain, and she had to stop and stare at the sight that unfolded before her: Skyrim. Home of the Nords. Cyrodiil had been her home since her birth. She'd grown up and was happy there. That didn't mean she was too upset to make a new home for herself in Skyrim. She just had to figure out where and how. It took a few hours to descend the mountain, walking into a forested area, following the main road until she came to a junction. Looking left and right, the signpost suggested a town was only a couple of miles off to the right, by the name of Falkreath. A town or city meant an inn, food and drink, and a warm bed. So Falkreath it was. Megan would admit to being relieved that she still had armour and weapons. She only wore light armour, mostly leather with steel plate in the important parts. Her weapons were the best available, though. The Fighter's Guild didn't scrimp on armour and weapons, as without the best available, we'd have quickly run out of fighters. Left feeling rather glad she was young and fit, having spent three days crossing the border, light was dimming as she approached the outskirts of Falkreath, and she realised things were very different in Skyrim to Cyrodiil. Walking up to the main gates, the pair of guards standing there looking rather board gave her a curious glance but said nothing as she passed by. There wasn't much to Falkreath on first appearance. At the end of the main road was what Megan guessed be the lord's hall. There were a few shops lined either side of the road, including a blacksmith. But, most importantly, there was an inn, a sign suggesting it was named 'Dead Man's Drink'. Walking inside, it was surprisingly empty except for a woman behind the bar and another sweeping the floor. She turned to Megan and smiled. "Shor's bones! You're gorgeous girl, you'll turn every man's head in Falkreath!" "Um, thanks." Walking towards the bar, the woman was wiping it down with a cloth, noticing my approach and smiling. "I'm Valga. Welcome to Dead Man's Drink. What can I get you?" "An ale, please." As she poured Megan a tankard, who took a seat on one of the stools, dumping her bag on the floor. "I hear a faint accent in your voice, yet you're clearly not a Nord. Where are you from?" "Just crossed in from Cyrodiil." "Oh, whatever for?" "Needed a change." Placing a tankard in front of her, Megan handed over a couple coins and thanked her. "You've perhaps come at the wrong time, with the civil war and all," she said. "Civil war?" Megan couldn't hide her surprise. She didn't know anything about it. Valga just scoffed. "Of course it wouldn't be news in Cyrodiil. Ever heard of Ulfric Stormcloak?" Megan shook her head. "The White-Gold Concordat and the banning of Talos worship?" "Well, the only thing I can suggest is that you watch yourself when on the open road. The Empire and Stormcloak both patrol, and sometimes don't mind taking prisoners." Megan took a room for the evening, dumping her bag on the single bed, and as the inn started to fill up for the evening, she found herself chatting with some of the locals. Most were either fellow Nords, but there were a few from Cyrodiil and even a Redguard, a woman by the name of Zaria who ran the local apothecary. As they chatted, Megan could feel an underlying tension between certain people, believing it was probably due to the civil war. Some of the Nords were proud to tell her they backed the Stormcloak Rebellion, as it was called. Megan kept any opinion to herself, not that she had one, merely stating she'd just arrived and was wondering what to do.

It had been a trying affair for the Dragonborn, taking down Alduin, and much had changed in Skyrim since then. He had just returned from the beyond, Sovngarde, crossing the veil back so that he could be among the living again, and thus it was after his meeting with the remaining Blades that he felt he could finally relax. Or at least, that was the plan. Naturally, everything went to shit just about right away. For this Dragonborn, Malakir, had a secret, and that was what tended to lead him astray. While his blood bore a special mark that enabled him to engage with the great soaring beasts and even speak their language, he had not gone about making his mark in the "usual" way. He was definitely not the type to be moral and trustworthy at all times. In point of fact, Malakir happened to be a maleficar of some considerable skill, having honed his craft and the ability to create wondrous spells throughout the days and weeks and months leading up to his climactic battle. He dealt in dark magic of all kinds, spells that could flay someone alive or reduce them to dust or worse, and he had not shied away from using these abilities for maximum carnage. Therefore he was a killer, and of the kind that had no qualms about ending the lives of the many residents of Skyrim, specifically those that had been in his way. Cruelly he'd dispatched them all, burning entire leagues of enemies or making them choke on their own blood. It was a particular failing of his that he liked causing pain, and often ramped up the damage done to the level of pure evil, if he had a choice in the matter. To make those who would stand against him truly suffer happened to be his ideal aim, and he achieved this as much as humanly possible. It was almost all too easy to use just his fists, lined with immense power, to make all of this happen - and he had done so in his own inimitable way. Up until now, that is. Malakir needed a rest, so he was on his way to Falkreath to get some if he could. It was a cozy town, with few notable marks along the path, and even fewer within. Yet, it housed a point of interest for one such as him - that of Grave Concotions, where the alchemist happened to be of considerable skill. Hence, it was as good a place as any to determine what he should do next, with the whole of Tamriel at his whim if he so chose. On the back of his horse, Shadowmere, with the Robes of Twilight adorning his dark skin, Malakir moved slowly across the lanes, and a few passers-by waved at him delightedly, happy to make themselves known to him. He waved back, but there was no heart in it - he didn't care at all, truth by told. No, the only thing that he truly gave a damn about was getting his rocks off, if he could help it. He hadn't been with a woman in a good while, and one other thing about Falkreath that he loved was the quantity of cheap whores available, all of whom were supposedly rather good at their job. Sighing, and stroking his facial hair, Malakir made his way to the local inn, the Dead Man's Drink, and tied up his mare outside, then made his way inside with firm steps to signal his arrival. They would know who it was. As he walked past the entrance, he stopped, and marveled at what he had found. A woman, a beautiful one, sat there adorned in armor, chatting away with the barkeep, and Malakir was entranced. His dark brown irises traced every inch, every curve, and he patiently sat at one of the tables, purposefully keeping away. It was only once the woman retired to her room that he approached the bartender. Valga looked at him and smiled, recognizing his face at once. "Ah, the Dragonborn here in the flesh. Welcome to Dead Man's Drink." She poured him a spiced rum, then asked the critical question. "Who was that woman that you were just speaking with?" Malakir ordered a spiced rum, and then asked the critical question. "Who was that woman that you were just speaking with?" Valga got his drink, and then answered him. "Oh that's...well, I didn't catch her name," she began sheepishly, "but she's just over from Cyrodil. I told her to watch her back, as there are many different parties about who will snatch her instantly, when it comes down to it." Malakir smiled, and took a big swig from his glass. "Interesting. Yes, it could be very bad for her indeed if she's not careful. Smart advice." Exactly how bad it would be, only he knew.

Despite its name, The Gilded Lantern was neither the most luxurious tavern in Dale nor the loveliest, but it was one of the most popular. The owner, Arnmar Ernardsson, was a retired mercenary who'd made his fortune escorting gold-laden wagons from the Lonely Mountain to Laketown and beyond, but now that he was in his golden years the big bald warrior was more accustomed to carrying trays than a sword, though he still opened the door of his establishment to men and dwarves alike. The inn was a narrow but tall building rising up four stories as it leaned precariously against the northern wall of the town, and while the wealthier merchants of Dale might have preferred the statelier, more richly decorated houses near the Great Keep, the Lantern was never short on the more itinerant flavor of guests, many of whom refused to stay anywhere else in the city. The regulars liked the trophies on the wall and Arnmar's pretty daughters who could be found skittering back and forth between the two-story common room and the smoldering cave of a kitchen, and the innkeeper's wife knew the secret of preparing a first-class meal for a working man's wages. Indeed, many of the guests were so partial to the inn they even had regular rooms kept ready for them in the upper stories of the building, though these were cramped and rather dreary, furnished with single beds and illuminated only by small windows. One such regular was currently seated at the bar, working her way through a second tankard of ale as she laughed at an old blacksmith regaling her of the antics of his hopeless apprentice. Her name was Maerwyn, and she had first appeared at the Gilded Lantern more than ten years ago, a dirty little slip of a girl who Arnmar had first mistaken for a beggar, then for a neighbor seeking work as a barmaid. But the young lady had merely shaken her head and passed him a small bag of coin, asking for a supper, a bed for the night, and an ale, of all things. This last item Arnmar had refused; he had girls of his own and he didn't approve of young women drinking like slovenly wenches. But out of pity for the waif, he'd seen to it she gotten extra helpings of supper and the most comfortable room in the house, and the girl had been so satisfied that the innkeep felt emboldened enough to ask what her business was in Dale. I'm a mercenary, she'd replied with an accent that matched nether the city nor nearby Laketown, and to further demonstrate her point she'd pulled out a sword. Well, it seemed like a sword on her short, skinny frame, but Arnmar had guessed it was really just an oversized knife, and not a very well made one at that. The edges were dull and rusty, and when he'd asked to see the weapon it felt awkward and unbalanced in his hand. But Maerwyn had looked upon it as though it were made of gold, and was quick to take it back from the landlord. Arnmar never learned much more about the little guest than her trade, and after two nights in his house she had paid her tab in full and disappeared for nearly a year. But sure enough, just as he was beginning to forget about her she had appeared again with another purse of coins and a second knife-sword on her hip, this one much better made. She was alone again and didn't care to speak much about herself, but she did take some interest in the innkeeper and his family and seemed pleased to learn how they had been doing in her absence. And so began a semi-regular cycle that had lasted for more than a decade. Maerwyn would appear at the Gilded Lantern a few times a year with a fair amount of money on her and usually a new or nicer weapon. The knives gave way to short swords, and when she was nearly a full-grown woman she had begun carrying a beautifully carved bow as well. Only Arnmar ever seemed to pay much attention to the woman's equipment though: everyone else usually found their attention captured by the woman herself. She had grown quite pretty over the years, with full lips, a long, straight nose, and deep brown eyes like those of a doe. Her thick brown hair was usually plaited into a braid that hung over her shoulder to the top of her full, high breast, but many of the strands always seemed to escape their bonds and fly loosely around her oval face. Over the years she had acquired several pieces of good-quality leather armor, along with some metal bracers and one steel pauldron (worn on her left shoulder to allow free movement for her bow), and while her clothing tended to be simple garments of brown or black cloth, or heavy home-sewn furs in the winter, she did wear a deep crimson scarf around her neck, though she never told anyone why. There was only one aspect in which the young mercenary had not grown or developed much over the years, and that was in her height. Around the third or fourth year of her acquaintance with Arnmar Maerwyn had finally achieved five feet, and over the following years she achieved a couple more inches, but nothing beyond that. To the old mercenary, he was curious about how such a small woman could make a living as a hired sword, but when he saw her in her first tavern fight it was clear. The girl was fast, and didn't exactly fight with honor. After a drunk guest had refused to acknowledge Maerwyn's rejection of his amorous advances, she'd had no trouble delivering a sharp punch to his groin, then a series of deep scratches to his eyes. Indeed, the damage was so bad that the girl most likely would have been arrested by the city guard if Arnmar and a few other guests hadn't explained the situation, and even then she was banned from the city for a year. She dutifully abided by this ruling, but on the three hundred and sixty-sixth day of her exile there she was again at the door of the Gilded Lantern, coins in hand and ready for some of Mrs. Ernardsson's fresh white bread. By now the regulars at the tavern were used to the woman, and except for those who considered themselves her friends most of the people of Dale avoided her. Maerwyn herself returned the favor, preferring to keep company with Arnmar and his family first of all, and few other citizens of her acquaintance as she saw them. The only strangers she ever seemed to take an interest in were the dwarves visiting from Erebor, but the feeling was rarely mutual. The woman asked far too many questions about gold and jewels, and could be downright aggressive in her offers to provide bodyguard services to their wagons, to the point that most dwarves that recognized her would refuse to speak the language of Men around her, instead whispering to one another in their own cryptic tongue. But this evening a dwarf of a different sort had entered the doors of the Lantern, and Maerwyn's glittering eyes did not miss his appearance. He was a stranger to her, and after conferring with one of Arnmar's daughters it appeared he was a stranger to everyone else as well. She had to admit that as far as dwarves went he was a rather handsome one, without any gray in his dark hair or beard and intense, deep-set eyes. His hat was rather bizarre but his clothing seemed to be good quality, if a bit on the dirty side, and she could tell by the axe and pack on his back that he must have been a traveler of some kind. Maerwyn watched the dwarf for several minutes as he took a table by himself near the fire, ordered something from one of the barmaids, then pulled out a bit of parchment and began to examine it by the red glow along the wall. A small smile crossed her face as she drained her mug, set it on the bar, then silently drifted over to join him at the table. On a journey are you? She remarked, sitting down across from him. Don't often see your kind travel alone. Waiting for someone? Before he could answer, Arnmar's daughter returned with a tray of food, and Maerwyn quickly pantomimed drinking to her, then gestured towards the dwarf before turning her gaze back towards him. The girl seemed to understand the request, and quickly dashed off to the bar to fetch a pair of drinks. Might I ask where you're headed? the woman asked, tilting her head and pushing her braid back over her shoulder while her eyes drifted down to the parchment before him, trying to see what it was.

Since they were mere children, perhaps 34 or 35 years old, Orin Indrafangin knew that the flaxen-haired grand-daughter of Thrin the 2nd was the only Dwarf for him. There was something about the way Dis put him down at every opportunity that could only mean one thing; she, too, knew that they were meant to be. For when she said that his beard was fit for an Elf, she was really saying that he was growing into a handsome Dwarf, and she wanted to run her fingers through his scruff. And when she told him that his skills at the forge would shame a farrier, she was telling him that his skills were promising to make him the best in the Mountain, and that was saying quite a lot. She could not say it outright, now could she, and let the other lads know that she was already smitten? Of course, she had to hide her affections behind mock insults and put-downs. It was their secret little language of love, and it carried him throughout the decade and a half that followed. Even now as she snorted her derisive Eh.no. Not now, not ever, OrinIdiotfangin! and threw the gold and mithril cuff he crafted to demonstrate his love for her, he knew she really meant: Finally! Of course, you silly dolt! but had been in the practice of their secret tongue too long to switch. For why else would her eyes light up as they did, and her cheeks flush pink under the soft haze of her lovely beard? Well I don't mean to say,Orin laughed, we're too young to be married now, but eventually, Dis. I know, he said, clomping over to retrieve the bracelet as gracefully as a four foot six inch Dwarf in the heavy boots favored by Blacksmiths could, well have to wait a few decades, but it would do my heart good to know that at the end of this journey, when were both in our second century of life, youll be the one at my side. He stood and held the circlet up, smiling at her through the opening. NO. What part of that don't you understand? Her hand went to the pickaxe at her side as she frowned at the too-smooth cheeks that made him look like he was still a Dwarfling, barely off his mother's teat.What in the world had ever come over him to think that I would have accepted his offer? Especially when there were fellows like Gori Ironhills,she thought, her eyes softening at the memory of the raven-haired axeman who had caught her eye three winters ago,waiting for me to finally ripen enough (his words) to be asked to share a home? It took her a moment to realize that Orin was still talking to her. Ugh. Enough! She snapped. What will it take to make you go away? What? You want me to go on a quest? He had been interpreting Dis-ese for so long that he'd come to understand her as no one else ever could. A quest to prove my commitment? Ohthis was sweet. Of course! Her eyes brightened at the prospect. She raked her mind for something so unobtainable, so far away, sosounreal, that he would spend the next century searching. His eyes were so earnest she almost felt bad for the fool. But not badly enough. Yes, a quest, she confirmed, her mind working quickly to put together something so outlandish that it would be believable. But, ah, Orin, I'm afraid no one would be able to retrieve it. Especially not you, you idiot dolt of an Elf-offal. He grew still, his hand sliding the cuff of commitment into his pocket as he focused on Dis. A quest to win her hand in everlasting marriage. All it was going to take was a little journey...I'll do it. His voice was low and steady, but his heart pounded against the thick leather of his vest. This was the one thing she needed to make it happen, then there was no other answer, was there? There was no doubt in his mind that it would be heroic and full of tales of valor to fuel their lives together. I'll do it. And so, she told him what, why, and where, and to top it off supplied him withthe map, marked just where the items were. She assured him and touched the back of his hand while doing so (another sign of her undying love!) and then sent him on his way with a firm handshake and a Good luck! Don't come back without it! He traveled outside the Lonely Mountain for the first time on his own, and made the 54-mile journey to the river city of Dale on his own as well. He felt quite accomplished for a dwarf just turned fifty. Certainly quite the adult, and tonight he would sleep on a bed and eat a hot meal, and tomorrow continue, his travel lightened knowing that Dis waited for him at journeys end. He looked up at the sign hanging over the inn; The Gilded Lantern. It sounded promising. The smells of warm stew and fresh bread smelled promising. The coins in his purse and the axe on his back made him feel like this grand adventure was bound to be nothing but good times, deeds of bravery, and great tales to tell his own grandchildren one day. Oh, yes, this will be a fine spot to stop, he thought as he pulled his brown woolen jacket tighter around his chest. He boldly pushed the door open, then found it stuck. A few pushes later he tried to pull the thing Why put in doors that only opened one way? and strode in, taking in the myriad of folks within. Most were much too tall, including the somewhat attractive but much too smooth-faced human woman who greeted him and pointed out a table at the corner. Weaving through the forest of elbows and chests, he found his way to the table and sat, enjoying the foreign sounds of men and women and noting that, aside from the dialect, it sounded much like the halls at home. Higher pitched, but the same. The barmaid had followed him to his seat, and he found himself eye to eye with her not-eyes, then craned his face upwards to see her freckled smile looking back at him. That was better. Much better. A quick run-down of their limited menu and prices, and he ordered the boar stew and a loaf of bread. He hoped they had a Hobbit cook somewhere in the back; his brother had told him that they made the best food and urged him to seek them out on his grand adventure. But the beer, he had warned, was stale and watered down. Best to drink nothing than to imbibe in the brew of the Men. As he waited for his meal, he pulled out the map Dis had so lovingly gifted him with, spreading it out with gentle hands and looking at his route once more, trying to confirm the route that would lead him to his destination. It's not far, just a few hundred miles or a thousand-piece of pie. A lithe form settled in the seat before him, and for a moment Orin assumed it was an Elf. But the person spoke and then turned towards the innkeeper's daughter, with the accent of Man, though hers was unfamiliar to his ears. Then again, all things outside the Lonely Mountain were unfamiliar. Like the sky. Especially at night when he thought he might fall upwards into its great vastness. He started to answer her first and second questions. Then he hesitated. What if she was a thief? Might I ask where you're headed? the woman asked, tilting her head and pushing her braid back over her shoulder. She was quite forward, even for a Human. He nervously began to roll up his map to stuff it back in his bag. What if she wanted to get to the treasure first and ruin his chances of marrying Dis? "I don't see how that's any business of yours," he said, trying to sound as fierce as he wasn't. "I'm not staying long. Just passing through." He admitted, wondering if she might be some kind of welcoming group making sure that no outsiders caused trouble in the Dale. Something about her direct gaze and her boldness made him feel very much like the mouse the kitchen cat had cornered and played with for hours until its still, cold form was no longer interesting. And though Orin might have relished this kind of interested look had it come from the fuzzy face of Dia, coming from this woman made him wonder if he should have tried the other inn down the road. She seemed the type to ask second and act first, and he'd be damned if he lost his map and his way on only the third day of his journey. His stew was cooling. Sensing its presence, his stomach gave a loud rumble just as the serving woman delivered two tall pints of frothing liquid. "I didn't order this," he protested, making sure to look past her not-eyes and into her face. The lass smiled sweetly and inclined her head towards the lady opposite him. "Free beer? Human beer, but still." What was she up to? No one gave beer freely unless it was to friends, and they'd only just met.

The once proud city of Enbarr was left ravaged and desolate, its once ostentatious, marble walls painted in a fresh, grotesque shade of crimson. Perhaps it was a fitting end for the Empire: to have its halls completely adorned in the maiden color of House Hresvelg... yet victory did not fulfill the Lion that prowled the halls of Enbarr's throne room. Victory failed to comfort him... nor did it bring even a bittersweet sensation to his pain-riddled thoughts. The defeat of the Empire felt only hollow, like a dried riverbed that once breamed with life. As Dimitri stood in the presence of his childhood friend, he could only feel the lamentations of the dead, the everlasting carnage of war and most of all - betrayal. But justice waited patiently, waiting for Dimitri to strike the final blow. Raising his lance, Areadbhar, death's stroke was suddenly paused by a moment of weakness. Kneeling before him, he watched as the Flame Emperor shifted, those familiar, luminescent eyes gazing up towards him. They were soft and comforting - their vibrant iridescence like a kaleidoscope that gently peered back into his childhood, when life was more simple and innocent. Edelgard von Hresvelg. It was a name that pervaded his every thought, like a shadow lingering behind every corner. But it had once been a name that made his heart skip, a name that... perhaps in another world, may have made for a loving Queen. It was then that the Lion had made his gravest mistake, a transient thought that perhaps, she could be saved. That life could return to normal. That Edelgard could still be. The Lion extended his hand, an open palm which offered a final opportunity for salvation to the Empress. His lips curved upwards, gracing his portrait with a solemn smile, as if beckoning his formerly betrothed to accept his hand once again. She had been defeated, but surely that did not mean that she had to die? Hadn't enough blood already been senselessly spilled? "El ..." His once Prince Charming called out to her, invoking her childhood namesake in an attempt to remind her of their once mutual affections. Maybe she would take his hand... maybe they could start over- The Empress' alluring lips drew into a crooked, wavering smile. It was at that moment the illusion of happiness had been dispelled completely. The Edelgard that Dimitri had once loved was dead... and even before she drew the blade from her hip, his remaining eye began tremoring in sadness. The dagger that he had given her in his youth was bared; the Eagle's final attempt to strike the Lion with her talon. The blade fell upon him with malevolent intent, the final, lingering betrayal that sought to end Dimitri's life thrusting through the air and biting his neck. He refused to step away from the Empress, instead intercepting her wrist into his overwhelming grip, tightening until she would have no choice but to release the knife from her hand. As the knife clattered beneath them, a faint trickle of blood cascaded down the flank of Dimitri's neck. The wound was far from fatal and yet, it was clear that whatever remained of Dimitri had been slain. A moment of silence endured, the tension of Edelgard's mortal blow festering within the King. Suddenly, he drew his hand back, opening his palm before swinging it across Edelgard's portrait in a resounding smack which echoed throughout the room. The perfect tone in her cheeks was instantly marred with red, delivering enough force to send her gaze reeling away from him. Before she could collect herself, a thick, coarse hand reached underneath her chin, capturing her neck and claiming the dainty appendage into his authoritative grip. His digits began to press down tightly against her walls, allowing the slow realization of asphyxiation to find her seductive gaze as he pressed out the air from her lungs. "Professor," Dimitri didn't even look back, his glare still falling upon the victim writhing in his grip,"Leave." Although a worried look took her face, Byleth knew better than to get involved in the matter any further. She said nothing as she turned around, heels clattering as she strode away from the throne room. It wasn't until the croaking sound of the door slamming shut that Dimitri would tighten his stranglehold on the Empress' neck even further. His masculine grip constricted slowly, encroaching on that dainty, vulnerable windpipe until the Lion could hear the Eagle's throat desperately crackle and her body began to convulse under his formidable grip. But he wouldn't let her go. Instead he would wait. Watching and watching, until her saliva began to froth between her lips and those pretty gemstones began to lull upwards towards their lids... and in the moments just before she would fall into unconsciousness: he would finally release her. But freedom wouldn't last for long. Reaching down, he grabbed his new prisoner by one of the crescent shaped horns that flanked her head, tugging roughly upon it until she had no choice but to follow his hand upwards and onto her feet. As soon as she was on her heels, he turned her around, pulling her back into his chest as his commanding hands instantly began groping and grabbing at the velvet fabric covering her breasts. Years of war had only strengthened Dimitri, and with but a single pull, the sound of tearing fabric took the throne room, the top of her crimson dress torn asunder. Golden buttons popped from her chest, pattering against the floor as her cleavage was bared. But Edelgard's degradation was far from complete, his hands quickly delivering the same fate to her brassiere, tearing it free from her chest and sending the tattered undergarment to the ground. Her well-endowed chest was now on full, humiliating display. "You belong to me now."A deep, primal growl escaped the Lion's lips, his hot breath singeing the Empress' ear."These... belong to me now."As he spoke, his coarse, powerful hands groped at the exposed mounds of flesh that had been fully exposed. Pancaked between his manly digits, he grabbed them in an objectifying manner, hands tightening until he would be able to feel her body writhing in pain. Only then would he release, fingers roaming so that they could deliver a similar squeeze to her nipples."Do you understand, whore?" As the whispered insult left his lips, the King bared his teeth, gently biting down on the the lobe of her ear... Her fall had just begun.

It looks as though my path... will end here... Even as the empress awaited the consequence of her defeat, settled upon her knees before the conqueror of the Adrestian Empire, Edelgard von Hresvelg regretted nothing. There was a deep satisfaction in what she had accomplished, an unyielding righteousness that made her life and her death meaningful. She would gracefully accept her fate. Silently and fearlessly, the woman's pride remained intact, despite the fact that she was crumpled on the ground before the dais of her own throne. The light of the sun spilled in to the throne room at her back, filtering in through high windows and pouring around a pair of tall marble columns. After several long moments, Edelgard's lilac eyes slowly opened, her sight falling upon her own shadow. She had expected a quick death, but her justice was not dispensed swiftly. Curious as to the delay, the empress convinced herself that each breath should be her last. Edelgards sight eventually cast upwards. She focused upon Dimitri, his towering armored form bathed in the golden rays of the sun. He watched her in return, his expression painfully stoic. The empress's gaze briefly marveled at the bright cerulean blue of the king's eye, attempting to glean any trace of emotion, with very little success. And then: Dimitri offered an outstretched hand. Her sight trailed to the curve of his lips, soaking in the melancholic smile to be found there. El I wanted... to walk with you. It had been impossible, she knew. For all the love she once held for the Prince of Faerghus, her ambitions had made them wholly incompatible. Social reform would not have come from diplomacy. The grip of the Church of Seiros over Fodlan would have never been released, nor their lies dispelled, by anything less than fire and blood. Edelgard had devoted herself to change; and while Dimitri and others disapproved of the means to her ends, they were naive at best to think there was any other option. Her own moment of weakness lasted only a heartbeat. If only she could take Dimitri's hand. If only she could believe that they could somehow heal the wounds between them. If only. But they didn't live in a fairytale. Dimitri, allied with the church, would undoubtedly undo her life's work. The prospect enraged her. The two of them would never be able to find peace in each other's company. There was only one way for this to end. Edelgard reached for her dagger: the very dagger Dimitri had given her as a parting gift in their youth. Without hesitation, she lunged at the man she had once loved, aiming to bury the blade deep into the side of his neck. He was unyielding, catching her wrist just as the steel of her weapon tasted his flesh. The empress growled with frustration as Dimitris grip on her tightened, and continued to press desperately forward as if she could overcome his greater strength by sheer will alone. Unfortunately, the advance of her blade had been halted completely; she had managed to draw blood but she had been far from inflicting a fatal blow. Her adversary continued to increase the pressure he applied to her wrist. In the end, Edelgards hand unwillingly wilted open, the dagger clattering at their feet. She had expected him to crush the bones of her wrist, as she well knew he possessed the strength to do so. When he released her, the twist of her angry expression softened, just in time for her to reap the reward of her actions. A startled, quiet cry escaped her lips as King Dimitri delivered a hard smack to her face. The blow forced her head to turn over her shoulder, the intensity of the hit great enough to even cause her to twist slightly at the waist in recoil. The initial pain stung and the aftershock was searing. The empresss eyes narrowed as she started to straighten her position, prepared to retaliate But before she could act, or even speak, the lions strong hand closed around her throat. Her eyes widened, then. Edelgards hands impulsively came upon Dimitris grip, her fingers curling around the bend of his hand. She didnt attempt to pry herself from his grasp, as no doubt she should. She knew, however, that this would be the end. Struggling helplessly would likely only give the man further satisfaction; a sentiment she could hardly hold against him, given their history, but an indulgence she didnt intend to give him, nevertheless. She stared at his face as he held her in his death grip, his hand ever tightening and encroaching upon her windpipe. Her ears filled with the panicked escalation of her own heartbeat, and yet she faintly heard the King of Faerghus as he dismissed Byleth, most of all aware of the coldness to be found in his voice. There would be no argument from his former professor, Edelgard knew: all for the better, so far as she was concerned, as she did not desire any further audience to her demise. As the other woman left them, Dimitri seemed content to snuff out his enemy, his grip collapsing upon her throat. Soon it will all be over, the woman comforted herself. Even as she unintentionally fought to draw a breath and her hands desperately obeyed her body's will to live rather than accepting the futility of her mind, her fingers grasping and pulling at the man's hold as if she might be able to pry him from her throat, the empress continued to assure herself thusly. Defiantly, she continued to stare at her killer; though the entirety of her face flushed to match the bright red mark his slap had left upon her cheek, and she knew her countenance would be nothing more than pitiful in that moment. Sounds emitted from her throat, sharp stabs of nonsensicalnoise intermixed with terrible suppressed gurgles. Her body writhed in opposition of her fate, eventually giving way to convulsions. Her vision blurred and she could feel herself slipping away to that sweet release... But Dimitri was cruel. Rather than allow her to die, he found her release to be more tangible than what she had expected. Edelgard buckled to the ground as the king ceased to hold her throat. Violent coughs competed with gasping breaths, the womans eyes squeezing shut to expel the involuntary tears that had welled within her eyes in the moment directly proceeding what she was sure to be the moment of her death. She used her sleeve to wipe the foam from her lips, the few moments of recovery afforded to her just enough for the woman to begin to regain her sight. Pulsing blotches of light and dark spheres obscured her vision, and yet she was able find focus upon her fallen dagger. She had been droppedso close to it; she need only reach to retrieve her weapon, and then Before she could equip herself, though, she felt a painful yank upon her scalp; Dimitri grasped one of the horn ornaments that was securely intertwined within her hair, lifting her upwards by the handhold. Her mind wasn't yet above the haze the recent lack of oxygen had provided, and so Dimitri found little resistance as he forced the woman to find her feet. Edelgard lacked for balance, even as she found her footholds, and so she easily turned as the king spun her to face away from him. Suddenly aware of the press of his unforgiving breastplate against her back, the womans brows drew inward in confusion and then she felt his strong hands upon her chest. Her lips parted to speak, but the only sound that escaped was a disapproving scoff. The king paid no mind, of course; he fondled her fully entitled. He unabashedly felt her up through her clothing, and before Edelgard could formulate a defense against his assault, he took further liberties with her: taking a hold of her garments, unceremoniously grasping and tearing the fabric from her frame. "Dimitri, stop!" she scolded him between labored breaths. Her tone betrayed her fear and did nothing to inspire the man to heed. The proof of this was a continued escalation: without hesitation, the king offered similar treatment to her underclothes, ripping away the final covering of her breasts. Her reflex was to attempt to cover herself, to shield her body from the exposure. But Dimitri had the advantage and his hands were upon her ample chest immediately following the disrobing. The empress struggled against him, wriggling her body as she fought to free herself from the hateful embrace. Alas, her attempts were to no avail. She felt nothing but contempt as he spoke to her, the heat of his breath teasing the cuff of her ear as his awful claims spilled from his lips. She hated him, then - the vileness of his trespasses against her body unlocking a depth of loathing she didn't know existed. The way he groped her breasts, as if proof of the words he was speaking: his blatant disregard of her, his manhandling increasing to what became a show of strength. It was obvious he was purposely hurting her, exponentially making the situation worse by subjecting her to pain in such a humiliating fashion. She writhed against him, stifling a groan of discomfort. When he released his painful grip of her chest, the relief was short lived, his fingers shifting their attentions to her nipples. A shock reverberated through her body in response, the nubs of flesh betraying her as they hardened against his abuse. She clenched her jaw and exhaled a huffed breath as she felt his teeth close in upon her earlobe. His bite was surprisingly gentle, like a playful nip of a true lover, and the woman was ashamed to admit that - perhaps, in another life - she might have enjoyed such attentions from the man. Mustering the final shreds of her dignity, she spoke with a tone of command that came naturally to an empress. "I will never belong to you, Dimitri." The words poured from her lips like venom, full of hatred and spite. She jerked her head to the side, attempting to free her earlobe from between his teeth, though his hold upon her body allowed her very little range of motion. "I am not your whore," she hissed disdainfully. And for all your faults, surely you're still better than a rapist.

Allie Clark had to wonder when this whole thing went wrong. Some might argue it started from conception. Like, she was at Ilvermorny, school of magic and wizardry and shit in America. Technically she was in the university part, getting an actual degree (because just learning about Muggles through "Muggle Studies" was dumb), and at twenty years of age, she was an adult by every accounting besides the whole drinking one. So she should be able to do whatever she wanted. Okay, yes, that sometimes meant apparating down to the nearest Muggle town (she kept forgetting the name) and using her phone to look up things she shouldn't, mostly downloading. Downloading what? Well, ah, videos and tutorials, mostly. Some of them were what her friends might expect: modern witches and wizards made Quidditch tips and tricks, and there were cool recordings of professional Quidditch practices. Allie had an honest-to-God shot at going pro at the sport if she didn't fuck things up, so that meant actually dedicating time to getting better. Plus there were quasi-illegal downloads of a few killer wizarding bands (Allie was soft into the whole gob-rock craze), and a few technically forbidden rap videos (Allie had latched onto the movement that pointed that learning to rap made you a killer duelist; given that she could exlliarmus like Harry Fucking Potter, she kinda proved that). But most of them... like, a ridiculous amount of them... were BDSM videos. Sometimes porn of girls being tied up and used well by others. Some were men... though not many. Allie had done enough experimenting to find that while she didn't strictly hate guys, she wasn't quite as attracted to them. Plus, it never really felt like the girls were fully surrendering to men just because they wanted to. There was always this slight hint of force, and Allie didn't dig that. No, she liked it more when the girls submitted to other girls: bonus points if the domme did it through sheer force of personality. But the real conception of Allie's current situation was the tutorials. Very thorough videos instructed people on the intricacies of BDSM: terminology, care, and...and self-bondage. Allie's curiosity started to turn a bit more into a desire at that point, and it was getting easier and easier to picture herself in some of those vids. It kind of sucked that there weren't a lot of tall, lean blondes with runner/Quidditch player builds. She was a Chaser, which meant long arms and limbs were a plus. She almost always kept her straw blonde hair in a tight ponytail, and probably would've cut it drastically short if she wasn't already getting enough butch comments. So, yeah, not a lot of her type were doing the tying up. And that was the position Allie was most interested in. It sounded... good. Let someone tie you up, give over your control, let your desires and another person's wants of your body take over. So, yeah, the self-bondage sounded like a plan. She was good enough with spells, and had mastered the whole casting without speaking thing. She was already planning on using her wand for stimulation, so it shouldn't be too difficult. See, Allie had it all figured out. Pick an afternoon with no Quidditch. Estella would have a Prefect meeting, and she always stayed after for reasons. Then Allie just had to get regular rope and the right spell memorized. She'd done the unknotting spell enough times to master it, after all. She could keep her skirt on and her uniform top, and just, like, quickly tug them into place and hide the ropes if it came to it. Tuck the wand into the waistband of her skirt at the right angle, set for vibrate, tighten the knots, and go. Then she'd seen the tips on self-gagging, and that had seemed like an added bonus. Again: silent spells. No problem. Allie Clark, star Quidditch player for Thunderbird House, had tied knots around her wrists connecting to the massive bed frame. Others wrapped about her ankles to help. She'd then tied the wand around her belly, raising her shirt to bare the white flesh beneath. She could see her trembling abdomen already, with the top of her wand poking out, angled underneath the blue and cranberry skirt. She had her usual boy short panties underneath (already with a noticeable damp spot), with only the slightest hint where the wand was angled. First she adjusted her simple gag (a balled up and totally clean sock with a bandana to tie it in place) and bit down. Then she tugged the ropes into place. Finally she activated the vibration on the want. Next came a few other issues. First off, she'd twisted just a little, and jammed her wand at an extremely arousing angle. Put simply, the thing practically ground into her clit through her shorts. On top of that, the ropes dug injust right, the painful spice slicing right into the arousal. She'd twisted hard and gotten the sheets all tangled up around her, making her realize belatedly she should've kickedthose off as well. She'd gone from slightly damp to fucking soaked in about thirty seconds, and could already feel her lower belly rumbling. Fuck, this is hotter than I'd thought. She twisted, groaning into the gag, closing her heterochromatic eyes (one green, one blue) as she did. Fuckity, fucksticks on a Pukwudgie's clit!Yep, she was about to cum, and it had been, what, minutes? Time to adjust, roll the hips, pretend like you're riding a broom and definitely don't think about how that often felt far too good. Al let out another groan, rolling her wrists, tugging, feeling a sharp thrill as nothing gave. She could feel it getting more and more... enough that she didn't even hear the door to her shared dorm/apartment opening, and she had been so certain she would too...

Well, the problem really started from the fact that Allie and Estella Clark, step-sisters and infamous overachievers Ilvermorny University of Witchcraft and Wizardry, really had no boundaries when it came to personal space. You can't really blame them either. Despite looking as painfully different as they could be, Allie being a tall, pale blonde with a toned body fit for a Quidditch captain and Estella being a shorter, curvier, caramel-skinned brunette that alluded to her bookish nature, the two had grown up together and had shared quite a few memories, ever since Ella's mom married Allie's dad when they were still girls. They shared a room in the dormitories and most of their stuff was interchangeable - makeup, food, devices, sometimes even clothes. Made sense, right? So of course, you can't really blame Estella for not expecting to see her sister tied up, gagged, wrapped up in the sheets like a coccoon, moaning and groaning and rolling her hips against Isolt knows what, right? "Hey, Allie, the meeting got cancelled today and I-" Her jaw dropped to the floor. "Isolt's tits." Let's rewind a little bit. Sure, they'd walked into each other on pretty embarrassing moments, that was almost a given. They also had their little vices on the internet, which was no surprise given that they were two grown adult women who could do and watch whatever they wanted. While Allie might be interested in Quidditch videos and whatnot on YouTube, Ella spent her time on video essays and chess tournament reviews (no, she wasn't a nerd for learning chess from muggles, it's basically the same thing, shut up). Obviously, there were some differences, but there were also some similarities between the girls too, like their tendency to apparate down into the Muggle town (she also forgot the name) to get booze with their fake IDs (easily transfigured which a flick of the wand) and their interest in gob-rock and H-Pop (you'd be surprised at how well hags can sing). Coincidentally, they also shared a certain penchant for BDSM videos. And it went further than a casual watch to flick her bean too. It started with just a passing curiosity for the kinkier side of porn, being interested in blindfolds and some roughness as one does, but it quickly became a more than a passing interest for Estella. Whips and chains excited her, apparently, and what's more, she found herself gravitating towards the one wielding the whip. It was a small gripe of hers that most 'dommes' in these videos were all tall and statuesque like Allie, but that was nitpicking, if anything. And it quickly became clear to her that she much, much preferred the lesbian side of things, much for the same reason Allie did, unknowingly. There was a certain presence and force of personality that resonated with Estella, who was a natural leader and visible figure of sorts, being the Prefect of the Horned Serpents and the Head Girl when she was back at the school part of Ilvermorny. She disliked the way there seemed to be a hint of force and belittlement in the men and preferred how the women seemed to willed the submissive to submit, though she knew full well it was just a script. Whether it was an uttered command, a simple swing of the paddle or sitting regally on a chair as the submissive licked her boots, there was a certain flair and style to how they moved. So of course, being inquisitive and studious as she was, Estella dove deep into the realm of BDSM. She never would've expected that reading about sensory deprivation spells, spanking methods and ideas for aftercare in bed during sleepless nights would actually come in handy though. Until now. As it were, she stood completely shell-shocked, face red and eyes wide, mouth in a perfectly shaped O as her hazel eyes locked onto the mismatched green and blues of her step-sister. A voice in her head told her she should probably apologize and immediately back out of there, but she was completely frozen and frankly intrigued (and aroused) by the sight before her. It must've been quite a sight - while Allie was completely tangled up in a sensual mess, Estella was the paragon of proper dress and conduct. She was wearing a dark grey suit jacket over her white blouse, the gold and turquoise necktice matching the same-coloured badge of the Horned Serpent on her jacket. The blue and cranberry skirt, reaching just around her mid-thighs, were accentuated by black thigh high stockings and a pair of black pumps that clicked authoritatively with every step. Well, they didn't sound particularly authoritative in most cases where she's just bolting between places, but still. Then, their eyes still locked, Allie's whole body trembled, her limbs tugging helpless against the bonds that bound her to the bedframe, and the young woman let out a muffled groan that would've alerted everyone in the dorm if she wasn't gagged. Did she just... cum right in front of her? The thought immediately snapped Estella our of her reverie, and her first action was to slam the door shut and lock it securely, not wanting anyone to walk into them. Only then did she get a chance to breathe and think, and it didn't take long for her to put two and two together. At first, she thought she was in some kind of danger or something, but obviously not, as she quite literally just orgasmed in front of her. Unless something else made her moan like that, and Estella doubted even the most fucking delicious pumpkin spiced latte in the world would make her sister make a sound like that. No... she just walked into her practising self-bondage. They do say bondage can be magic. "Not exactly subtle, are you?" she joked teasingly after the long silence, wanting to break the ice a little and ease the palpable tension that had just permeated the room, ignoring the utterly uncomfortable warmth that seemed to be passing through her abdomen, flushing her cheeks red. Dropping her bags on the floor, she walked over to her bed, heels clicking against the floor, trying her best not to glance at her exposed midriff and chest and failing miserably. Was that her wand poking out of her skirt? Oh, Merlin. "You really should just put up a sign next time, Allie," she chided, tsk-tsking like a disappointed parent, actively avoiding the fact that she was tied up, though she got to the topic soon enough. Biting her lips, her breath just a little heavy (okay, quite a lot), Ella glanced down at the tangled sheets around her sister's body, and slowly peeled them away to allow her some sort of movement... only to see that her ankles were also tied, and that her skirt had ridden up to complete expose the soaked boy short panties, the slight outline of the wand visible. "Oh wow..." she breathed automatically, the soft scent of the orgasm caressing her senses, setting her nerves on fire and bringing on a heat between her thighs that really was inappropriate. Fucking hell, she was her sister. "Do you need my help getting out?" she asked helpfully, though her mind wandered to places that were quite the opposite of what she spoke. "Or... A moment of madness. That was all it took. Without even really thinking straight, Estella climbed onto the bed on her knees, heels still at her feet, and waded to straddle the paler, larger girl, placing her plush, round ass down on her thighs as she placed herself right before her crotch. Suddenly, she placed two fingers against the soaked panties, pressing right into her folds against the fabric, damp and warm. "Looks like I interrupted something important," she whispered, eyes never leaving Allie's as she brought the digits up to her lips and sucked on them, tasting her sister's juices, the lewd act sending her heart thumping rabidly. "Let me help you finish." She tilted her head, asking for her affirmation as she pulled out the ashwood wand from her pocket.

As Yang made her way from Beacon to her favorite hang out, The Dust, which was the hottest nightclub within walking distance. She always liked to go there either when she just got back from a mission or just wanted to let loose. There wasn't anything like letting the beat take over you as you danced the night away. For Yang, she always made sure she had enough alcohol in her to survive for at least a few hours. Pulsating beats, some likeminded individuals grinding and bumping their bodies together was the best feeling in the world. After about three songs of non-stop octane and lust-filled grinding, Yang gave herself a few minutes to catch her breath and just allow herself to watch others as they did just what she did. She parked at a seat at the bar, waving to the bartender. "My usual." "So, scotch on the rocks?" Yang nodded. As the bartender poured it, Yang looked at the dance floor, smiling, sipping her drink casually.

Michael had graduated Beacon just a few years ago and was now a seasoned Hunter through and through. He still hung around however and often liked to drop by Beacon for old times sake. Whenever he did, he always liked to visit The Dust. It was one of the best clubs he had ever been to and it was often a great way to unwind after a mission. He walked into the club, the music washing over him as he took in a deep breath of the lust and alcohol that filled the air. He was tall and toned, with short brown hair and slightly tanned skin with hazel eyes hidden behind a pair of glasses. He held his weapon, a cane in his right hand as he walked around for a bit. His eyes locked onto Yang as she danced...she mesmerized him as she swayed her hips, grinding up against anyone who seemed willing and that was basically everyone on the floor. He licked his lips as she made her way to the bar and he followed shortly after. He heard her order and grinned, what were the odds they had the exact same favorite drink? "I see the beautiful and sexy dancer has good tastes in drinks as well." Michael made his presence known with a grin as he took a seat next to her at the bar and waved to the bartender. "I'll get what she's having, and I'll buy her drinks too!" With that, he turned to Yang and raised one of his eyebrows, clearly curious. "So, sexy...what's your name?

Beli Lapran & Kyanna Delrio November 21st 14:55 PM Lavender Bay Exact Location: Inside The Fitness Club "Just a bit more. We're in the home stretch for today's lesson." Beli lifted her head while keeping herself in the plank position. A proud smile appeared on her face as she saw most of the students, or at least attendants, of her Yoga Class heeding her words. Most, if not all, were visibly sweating which was perfect. If they weren't, it meant they were doing all of the poses wrong. As she scanned the room, she noticed Kyanna trying to wear what was likely a teasing glare. And ... she was right. Kyanna was much more used to working out in the more ... typical way, as it were. Weights, machines, things like that. Still, she had recommended to just about everyone new she met that Beli's classes were worth it, and she stood by those words. Yoga was, in itself, a challenge. Kyanna would even go so far as to say it was tougher than the more chosen methods of working out. Yoga required a bit more discipline, which thus meant one had to have more determination and even ambition to complete these sorts of poses. Weren't we in the home stretch a few more minutes ago?! Kyanna thought to herself, gritting her teeth as she forced herself to hold the Plank position. Right when it felt she was ready to slump forward, Beli spoke up again. "Annnnd go on and lie on your backs for the Corpse position. Take as long as you need to regain your breath and composure and ... we'll be done for the day. Good job, everyone!" Some of the people applauded as their nonverbal manner of thanking Beli. Others offered praise or thanks out loud. Either way, not long after listening to her words, most of everyone began to leave the building. Within moments, Beli found herself alone with just Kyanna and ... one of the newer people who had started attending. A male, at that matter, which was a nice change of pace. Most of the people in her class were women, so it was nice to see a male who was comfortable enough to attend. It was even nicer that he didn't seem to mind being taught yoga by her ... a woman. It was silly, but some people did legitimately get upset about that fact. A smaller handful even disliked that she was as tall as she was .. something Beli was already very self-conscious about without their help. Kyanna would be the first to break the silence, and thus snap Beli away from her thoughts. "No, trying to kill me. Man, Beli. You really know how to .... whew .... push us." Beli chuckled as she grinned and walked towards a nearby shelf, grabbing some spare towels. One was thrown to the newcomer, the other to Kyanna, and the last was for herself. She took a moment to wipe the sweat off her face, with Kyanna eagerly following suit. "I think this is where the proverb 'what doesn't kill you makes you stronger' comes into play. It's at least helping you stay in shape like you want." "That it is," Kyanna quickly concurred, glancing over to her newest acquaintance. "So ... what'd I tell you? She's amazing, isn't she?" Beli blushed a bit, waving a hand dismissively, only for Kyanna to shake her own head adamantly. "Nu-uh. You absolutely deserve it. You don't give yourself nearly enough credit." "W-well ...." Beli stopped, already sensing she wouldn't be able to win that 'debate' of sorts. Instead, she silently glanced over, waiting to hear his thoughts on whether he'd enjoyed the class or not.

Xander Caldwen & Kyu The home stretch, she said. There were muscles in his body that felt like they were on fire and he couldn't even remember having them in the first place. All he knew in this moment was that this was exercise and if it wasn't for the gorgeous women here he might have considered leaving. It wasn't that he didn't like being in shape, he did, but this was contorting his body. Well, maybe it was useful. At the end of the day he was in pain and he kept pushing forward in the name of doing what he was supposed to do. He grumbled just a little under his breath while the fairy sat on the floor next to him. She would have thought she would be looking at him and guiding him, but instead the pink-haired fairy's eyes were firmly on the ass of the woman in front of him, staring with absolutely zero shame as she licked her lips. "I could get used to this." He sighed a little as he heard Kyu speak. Sometimes he wondered if there was an off switch to exactly how thirsty she could be. He knew there wasn't though. Ever since he'd met her, she had proven to give valuable advice on getting his life together while simultaneously taking every chance to comment on how much she wanted to sleep with every woman he met. There were very few exceptions. Still, he held the positions he was asked to, reminding himself to be thankful for all that time spent keeping himself in shape. If he wasn't already in decent shape, he was fairly certain he would have collapsed already. "Come on, you're not even looking around. Look at all of them in yoga pants! I could have a field day here." "He was reminded, once more, of their initial meeting," Kyu said with a smile. "I came to him in a bar where no one else could see me and swept him away." She went right into tips and tricks, telling him that she'd been sent by the goddess Venus herself to help him find love. Called him a challenge because he generally kept to himself and did his own thing. He'd been on dates before. They just rarely went well because his heart wasn't in it. They'd bored him within minutes. Kyu, however, told him that she knew how to find interesting people and he was going to get laid by the end of it. He was still coming to terms with the idea of an invisible goddess sent fairy trying to get him laid and in a steady relationship to boot. Not only that but she said he needed to aim higher. To go for two compatible women and date them both. She was mad. And yet here he was after having run into Kyanna at the gym a week or so back. They'd talked for a little bit and had a little chemistry when she'd mentioned this class. Figuring that there was no reason not to try, he'd come to the end of the last class to see how it looked. Kyu had made a similar comment as she just did now. The fairy was certainly easily entranced. Beli, however, was really something. Striking, certainly, but she was good at what she did too. He could see that the other ladies respected her and seeing how she and Kyanna got along had him thinking. Once he was on his back and catching his breath, he noticed that Kyanna and Beli were both talking. Trying to get his opinion which brought a little smile to his face as he cracked one eye open. "Beli? She's great. Knows what she's doing, looks incredible doing it, and somehow manages to make it all seem effortless. The class?" He raised his hand halfheartedly and waved it as if he was incapable of getting off the ground. "How are you two so okay after that? I thought I was in good shape. I think I flexed muscles I forgot existed." He gave Kyu side-eye as she made such an obviously crude joke before slowly getting into a seated position. "Seriously though, that was great. Thanks for hosting the class and you, Kyanna, thanks for inviting me. Wouldn't have even thought to come without your suggestion." He held out his hand as if looking for some help getting up as his clothes clung to him a little from the sweat. He was dressed in a loose fitting shirt and basketball shorts that didn't do much to hide the somewhat toned figure he had. He had always been athletic though he'd never really broken into playing in college or beyond. Just some recreational leagues for basketball here and there.

eral'space Coming at you live Real real wild Here to light it up Set the world on fire Gonna break rules and hearts in twos 'Cause that's what the baddest do @Decadent Sinfonietta Who was Samira? That was the wrong question to ask - what was Samira was a much more fitting question. And the answer was just as pretentious as that sentence. Daredevil. Influencer. Internet sensation and more. Got a cult-like following to her stream, YouTube channel, Instagram account, you name it, she front-paged them all. So, it made absolute sense that she would have gotten a personal invitation to the KDA house for their relaunch. Well, the invite wasn't framed like that, but she could certainly read between the lines. One might think that the one-hit wonder girl group didn't need more publicity, having been public darlings despite not releasing any new tracks, but Ahri did have a reputation for being thorough. As thorough as that dab of perfume on that cute paper-mache card bearing a signature just as elaborate as hers. She even recognized the perfume - owned several bottles of it, actually. Charmed. Ahri wanted a springboard. Wanted something more than flashing cameras and paparazzi. Wanted a reach that the traditional red carpet did not offer - And Samira? Well if Samira weren't open to new adventures, didn't film herself skydiving unstrapped, bungee jumping but gripping the rope instead of having it tied around her waist, she wouldn't be where she was today. That was to say, oh yeah, she was definitely interested in seeing where this was going to go. More than happy to film a private behind-the-scenes for her devoted fans. A definite win-win, and more importantly, a favor she was keen on cashing out at the end of this little session. So obviously she showed up at the promised time, armed with a perfectly practiced smile and her trusty smartphone. Could afford something better for sure, but liked sticking to her roots (not that her viewers ever complained). Her appearance was immaculate as always. Hair that permanent sex-tousled in the front, held in a loose braid trailing down her chest. Form-fitting black vest, only nothing quite so basic - this one has got all the bells and whistles. Solid-stand collar, custom-designed zipper, the personally embossed S over her heart and the microphone pinned into the asymmetrical front pocket. The cut on that thing made it very obvious that she wasn't wearing anything beneath. And obviously, the vest showed off the full sleeves on both arms and the toned musculature they highlighted. Flashy belt, with the same symbol as the buckle - hey, she was the living embodiment of her brand, and had to sell products, ok? - and a pair of more subdued but equally plastered on pants to top it off. Combat boots. Because her fans dug that bad girl aesthetic, and she did always aim to please. The door opened, and before her would-be-hostess could get a word in edgewise, she was already crossing the threshold like she owned the space. Hey gorgeous! Thanks for the invite, and welcome to the Wild Rush. Squeezed herself right next to her host, phone held high and horizontal, to capture a nice flattering shot of both herself and Ahri, as well as bits and pieces of the room behind. This was agreed upon, of course. She had a stream to entertain, and Ahri was entertaining just by existing. Alright boys and girls, so on today's show, we got the leader of KDA, Foxy, with us. Say hi to her! Not that the rapidly scrolling chatbox could actually be read, with just how fast it went. Oh yeah, her fans were hyped for this episode. So as you know, we are doing a charity stream today. Type !charity in chat for additional details. 'Cause ya girl definitely got a show planned for you, read up on what hitting donation goals unlock now, ya? And, turning her attention to her co-host of sorts, she grinned a grin that was the definition of wicked. Got anything to say to my stream, Foxy?

Ahri She needed no introduction. Millions of musicians. Thousands of artists. Hundreds on the billboard. Every stratum casting aside the unworthy without remorse; each tier an increasingly ruthless arena abolishing the mediocre from its ranks. A tempestuous clash of aspirations, passion, and greed nourished by a steady stream of fresh, eternally voracious aspirants. She strode through this battle royale triumphant. It wasn't until she reached the zenith that she, a pristine center stone set upon a standardized crown bezel, recognized the industry for what it was. The vicious sieve naught but a production line for inane, meaningless drivel optimized for the lowest common denominator. Sure, some occasional confluence of circumstance wrought some group set to, as sensationalized by reporters and investors alike, disrupt the industry. Regardless of the weight multigenerational wealth brought to bear behind their chosen. Despite the great potential of meticulously crafted rosters. No matter how prodigious the talent itself... It was never long before all that flavor collapsed into some sanitized embellishment upon the same, soulless bubblegum pop- succumbing to the unrelenting burden of compromise. Layer upon layer of external pressure; uncaring polish and poor faceting stripping the final product to no more than a parody of its once glimmering potential. What other girl groups and bands lacked was a simple, critical ingredient. Merely having the constituent parts; high quality ingredients, a dash of culinary talent, a flair for plating, or even the perfection of any individual dish is sufficient for but a single star. It is ones unerring vision that separates that from a magnum opus. A Virtuosos inviolable presence for whom all others fall in line. Whereas her vision resonated and seduced the girls for her little venture, it was her supremely inequitable distribution of talent that allowed her to serve as their Northern Star. Offering some time away from the studio to birth her own conservatory fanatically dedicated to their shared vision. She needed no diadem for her coronation as the world heard her song. Their song. The seas of adoring fans, the kindling flame of those who wished to sing on her stage. The musings of a starry eyed songstress daydreaming in class. There was no command given. No request made, and yet, even still. All eyes were on her. The brazen intrusion into her realm induced a flutter of long, strawberry kissed blonde hair; envy incarnate for entire marketing departments devoted to replicating the sight. Dispersing a generous dose of Ahris personal fragrance as the woman passed- the refreshing top note masked by the very Autumn breeze that dispersed it. Ah~ The flush adorning her cheeks implied something more salacious. Full lips embellished with a playful shade of blush parting in a surprised gasp for the camera in an motion guilty of the same crime. The already suggestive act further sexualized by a sinful splash of glossy lavender. Contrasting the painted skin from streams of luxurious blonde intent on guiding ones gaze from the periphery. A glimmer of champaign tempered by shadow pulled taut about the Vixens neck. The journey south pausing for but a breath upon the cerise heart enshrined within a 14 riviere. Each progressive layered princess necklace a chain of delicate cream overlaid upon a porcelain canvas; the nadir of the furthest link incidentally where strawberry blonde gave way to sleek rose. Delicate straps hinted at an already salacious neckline only for the mulberry silk to instead follow and caress her voluptuous mounds- the slightly elastic properties of her dress finally offered some reprieve as the material kissed ever slightly below her breasts. The laced straps further accentuating the buxom display was made even more erotic as they tantalizingly bit into her skin; the opulent material straining against her curvaceous form. Ahri crosses her thumb and index fingers; long lashes fluttering ever slightly- a blunt reminder to Instagram influencers that their careers persisted solely because that particular vapid ideal held no appeal to the fox. Annyeong! There wasn't a single room in the house that didn't have excellent acoustics. Her rich voice bordering on sultry, with a subliminal middle note registered if not acknowledged by her guest. The scent making even such a simple, friendly act seem far more intimate. She tilts her head as if to lean into Samira's shoulder, consenting to remain but a trophy on Samira's stream- an image of perfection all but hanging off the woman's arm. Eyes contracting for no more than a handful of frames during that picturesque moment. Not even her vulpine gaze could actually digest the contents of cascading down the backlit rectangle, but a quick comparison of the message rate confirmed her theory. Ahri turns towards her guest. To some, the way she was forced to look up to Samira demonstrated an endearing shyness as per some loose understanding of Eastern cultural norms. To others, the height difference combined with the fox's flirtatious energy made it easy to construe as a submissive gesture. To Samira, it likely bordered on exhibitionistic. Was it the ephemeral eye contact that provided an opportunity to appreciate the seductress provocative form? Perhaps it was that the base note of her fragrance seemed infused with a subtle yet inexplicable heat. Beyond sensuality, there was also a hint of something else. It wouldn't take bestial instincts to recognize either that the Queen was challenging her or that Ahri planned to ruthlessly push her advantage. The way those luscious lips curved into a smile. No, it was clear from Samira's point of view that it was more akin to a smirk. As Ahri returned her attention to the camera, she gracefully stepped past the boundaries that governed streamer-viewer relations. Taking the idea of making love to the camera one step further as her tail teasingly flickered from one side to the other. Mesmerizing cerulean orbs staring directly into their mechanical counterpart. Hello my little devils~ The Kumiho virtually transcended time and space as she seemed to validate the most parasocial of her viewers. Discarding the thousands of others watching casting aside the video, and even Samira herself; threading the needle and speaking directly to you, and only you~ my dearest @ your_username ~ Mmn~ She allowed herself some satisfaction as a torrent of donations spilled across the screen before returning to the matter at hand. Ahri slowly spun about the bristling stem of her little Desert Rose as if starring in a burlesque; erotically trailing the tip of her fingers along some of those ever pricking thorns. Pursing her lips as she blew a kiss. Mwah The click of stilettos ceased nearly as soon as they came, the fox tossing her hair as she glanced over her shoulder. Half lidded eyes staring intently towards her guest as she raises her arm. Palm up, fingers outstretched - lingering just long enough for one to consciously register that they might have been holding their breath before beckoning towards her guest. Hardly bothering to veil the energy of a temptress extending an invitation to her boudoir. Come along now~ dongsaeng~ The confident visage wavered but for a moment. Ah...~ The foxs tail flickered into many in an ever hypnotic array. Lets not keep your fans waiting~ The numerous fluffy lengths merged back into one. Drawing attention to the tail disappearing under the hem of a dress clearly intended to already cling sinfully tight to Ahri's thighs served as a natural successor to such a lewd sound. Hearts were swayed even through a haphazardly reassembled stream of data filtered through layers upon layers of encoding and compression. One could only imagine the consequences of challenging a Kumiho so intimately with no such protection.

The main vocalist of the world-stopping K/DA group could be seen taking to the high fashion streets of Milano, perusing bespoke coat racks, hat racks, and bags of shiny leather and accessories that sparkle. If not there, she might be spotted on the other side of the globe, jetting over Fragrant Harbour to her heart and home of Seoul. But stars never slept and there were stages to charm with her girls, so the Queen went here, there, and everywhere. Here meant a beautiful day in sunny Paris, cozied up in a private studio that offered a grand view of the bustling city. But the curtains were pulled shut, and so the view went unappreciated by one of four (maybe five, if they were lucky) occupants. Ahri had claimed the lounge for herself, seated on a plush sofa, the expensive television blaring 64-bit - ahem, 16-bit music. A light blue hood sat over a swathe of soft blonde hair let loose into the depths of her clothes. The rosy hues of the hombre were a fading gradient, darkening at the tips that brushed well past the collar of her hoodie. It was cashmere, well-worn, and just right for a lazy day off tour. There was a lull in fans to meet, shirts and proffered skin to sign and corporate hands to shake. Record-breaking labels, all ink, and dotted lines, it was all well when she's at the top of her game but today. Today, was exhausting. So that meant online shopping. It meant making a cup of hot chocolate with almond milk. It meant an old hoodie and painting her nails an alternating blue and purple while they dried one hand at a time while she tapped away on her phone. But Ahri was a go-getter, a woman who had never chased her own tail for want of fame. She wasn't pumped full of explosive energy like Akali, and Kai'sa coming home with bloodied feet from hours and hours of practice made her wince. Evelynn had her fast and expensive cars (supposedly), and Ahri had her shoes and purses. She also had something else. Games. She had never been a fan, she never had the time for it though she enjoyed watching others play. That was before the rabbit hole that killed the cat: speed-running. The adrenaline, the satisfaction, the pursuit of perfection - a personality test couldn't have picked a better hobby. So, on her lazy days like this, she had her cocoa, she had her nails and she had her console and controller set up on the grand T.V. What Ahri also had, which irritated her, was the high definition proof of failure right before her. An annoying, cheerful reminder that she could go again, but at what cost? Because Ahri was good at what she did. Speed-running retro games did not agree with that assessment. She could recite the script word for word and knew how many steps needed to be taken exactly. But her hands had other plans. Pop sensation Foxy, labeled as the most talented in the Pop Shine Awards, could not make the glitch that shaved a hefty five whole minutes off her run time. It frustrated her. It bored her. She wanted more. So she took a loud sip of her lukewarm drink and pressed the start button with her thumb. The music started up once again. > A lone village on the outskirts... Skip. > Hero wanders through... Skip. Skip. Skip. Skip. Skip. The damsel in distress. The village idiot. The wise sage, who so happened to be the antagonist. Skip! Once Ahri was in skipping mode, she was preoccupied. Only a murder might pull her away from the game, and even that wasn't a certainty. Her ears were pulled away, almost flat against her scalp which left the hood sagging into triangular pockets of nothing. Her tails were un-bedazzled and fluffed up around her like a comfy fort. Clad in nothing but the hoodie, a sports bra beneath, and a pair of shorts, she could have a soaring career as a streamer. > The sage rips off her cloak to reveal... Skip. FFB6C1 x C3D8E4

A beautiful lie. The most beautiful lie. A smile - not even - a glance and Evelynn could have any pair of eyes she wanted glued to her. All of them, rather. But only when she wanted. Unlike Foxy - her Foxy, mind you - the Lead Vocalist and Co-Founder of K/DA was not so good about her obligations. Her once infamous interview said it best - I'm an artist, not a socialite. I won't apologize for high standards. An attitude that bled into every aspect of her life. Sure, she did her share of the paperwork (sometimes), fulfilled her portion of grunt work (any coverage is good coverage; she has the tabloid covered for all four - maybe five - of them; you are welcome), and entered her appearances as necessary. All of that said though, the truth was that her passion and dedication to her music aside, Evelynn absolutely cut corners everywhere she could, more than happy to let their far more industrious and diligent leader handle public relations. And finances. And sponsorships. And dealing with managers and booking concert venues. And Put that way, it really did seem like she dumped almost all the non-music related work on Ahri, which might explain said woman's current state of exhaustion. Oops? And, just as even the most pimped out car - dual clutch, hot hatch, torque vectoring; supercar - try hypercar - needed regular maintenance to perform at peak capacity, it only made sense that Ahri was no different. Luckily for her, Evelynn was a veritable maestro at maintaining expensive and classy things. Taking them apart. Building them back together. Inspect and service. Making sure everything was nice and lubed. Plugging up any leaks and - what? She was talking about cars! That the curtains were closed suited her just fine. Never did like sunlight and all that; shadow demon, hello. What didn't suit her though was that her presence was entirely ignored as she entered their shared private studio. Bedazzled claw tips settled into the plush white leather, flanking either side of Ahris shoulders from behind. Unamused golden eyes peered through tinted shades, at a screen just a few hues pinker than those sunglasses she favored. Was the little 16bit sprite supposed to be plunging through the ground like that? Unlike their resident Rogue, Evelynn could not profess the slightest know-how or interest in these rather dull pixels, but even she had sense enough to recognize that Ahri was probably supposed to kill some monsters, not dash past them? Maybe? Either way, she wasn't so concerned with what Foxy was or was not doing in that console game of hers. The issue was more despite the fact that her presence had definitely been registered - pulled the hood down, carded through strawberry tinged blonde hair, traced a claw tip down from a furry tip lengthwise - Ahri was still not paying attention to her. Hello? Was some oddly garish and very basic-bitch looking video game more interesting than Evelynn? Why, if not for the fact that she absolutely turned her nose up at the very notion of religion, she might have considered that blasphemy. Foxy, she tried again. Darling. Whatever responses she got or didn't get, they were woefully unsatisfactory. Which, for anyone who knew the first thing about Evelynn, meant that they were completely and utterly unacceptable. She had meant to pamper Ahri today, as it was an unfortunately infrequent event when both of them had enough free time that overlapped, but if Ahri would rather play that awful, despicable, horrible game of hers, then well... For just a second, her temper flared, and she briefly considered redecorating their studio. Sans one expensive television, to be specific. But no, that lacked imagination, and she was an artist, after all. Those dangerous claws poured down from white leather to gradient blue, across the flank of shoulders - lingering to toy with a belovedly soft strand of hair - down as she herself leaned forward enough to drape against the back of the sofa. Clad in that signature trenchcoat/dress of hers, sleek, silken, the color of sin, because black was her favorite color, obviously. Her arms spilled around Ahris neck, an adoring if possessive hold. How long have you been at this? Decided to start simple in her line of questioning, though her actions were anything but. Nobody ever accused Evelynn of being a patient woman, after all. The once immaculate fuschia lipstick smeared, leaving a dab of her color upon a blonde-furred ear. Harassed that twitchy little thing, she did. Pressed a kiss or two into the back, just to satisfy herself with the lipstick print she left behind, before she drew her attention to the much more sensitive ridge, licking a salacious path from tip down along the rim. Pay attention to me, or else. A threat now.

Katara's pleading stare only worsened her situation. She had hoped that her father would see the agony he was putting her through and stop his monstrous actions. But instead of seeing mercy in his eyes, she received a sudden, stinging slap to the face. Then she was flipped around and pushed down against the counter so her father could re-enter her from behind. It all happened so fast that Katara's wail from the slap was still echoing through the room as Hakoda plunged himself into her. The gag, while it was amazing at stopping any actual words she might be trying to say, wasn't thick enough to stop Katara's sudden burst of screams and howls as she was slapped, flipped, pinned, fucked and then spanked. Hakoda's hand impacted her bare ass over and over again as he thrust in and out of her until he'd left a distinct red mark on her round, brown cheek. Katara's voice and tears flowed freely into the room now. The makeshift gag had become saturated in her own saliva and loosened somewhat in the tussle, allowing more of her cries through. Katara had hoped that this would be as bad as it got, but her father seemed more invigorated now than he had been before! She yelped as his fingers twisted and caught in her hair, pulling her head back towards him and causing her back to arch enough to lift her beautifully large breasts off of the counter. It felt like he would rip the hair right out of her scalp, but it held fast and only hurt like hell. That seemed to be the common denominator here: everything he was doing to her hurt like hell..so why was her body responding to it!! Despite the way her father was using and abusing her like a cheap whore, Katara's nipples had hardened during the spanking and her dad's cock was now easily slipping in and out of her. She knew Zuko had left a lot of cum inside her, but this felt different. Her body was betraying her! She couldn't even close her mouth to hide the pants she had begun to let out between her horrified cries. 'No! No, I can't be enjoying this! My body is just reacting on it's own! I HATE this!! Please stop! STOP!! Please someone, anyone.. Help me!! Zuko!! Zuko I need you!! Where are you?! Please hear me!!' She had no idea how long her father could keep this up, but she didn't want to find out. Unable to move or waterbend, all she could do was hope that Zuko would hear her struggling and return to save her from Hakoda.

Hakoda had every intention of cumming inside his daughter. If she allowed that filth of a fire bender to do it why shouldn't he get to? If she was willing to throw away everything that he had fought against and protected simply because she thought one fire lord was different then the other than why shouldn't he have fucked her beyond the point where she broke completely, and it seemed that her body agreed with him, cosidering how wet she was, how at every thrust of his cock her body seemed to tighten around him. Despite how he was treating her he could actually be fooled into thinking that the woman he had raised to be elegant, to be a diplomat and a warrior was little more than a hardened slut open for anyone to dump their cock into. He supposed that was a good thing really, because it was getting him more and more in the mood to do just that. Looking at how hard Katara's nipples were as he pulled at them, he had every intention of fucking her till she went mad. Maybe after this he would go into the next, locked room, and kill The fire lord in front of her. Sure he would get in trouble, but this was his tribe, and if he told them that he found Katara raped no one would blame him for smashing in The fire lords skull. Then as the man bleed out, he would set down his daughter on top of him, and do this all again. Katara seemed to need a positive influence in her life, and as it turned out he had desperately missed the comforts his wife had once afforded him. With him able to keep a closer eye on his daughter he would simply keep her, and rape her every night until she finally came to her senses and acted as the proper woman she was supposed to be. What's more he could hear Katara's moans and pants mixed in with her anguished cries, and he was loving every second of it. His hips were smashing against Katara's leaving the counter she was tied too soaked in a mixture of fluids from her rough fucking. He grabbed Katara by the throat. His grip easily sliding over her as he pressed down on her wind pipe, strangling her as he fucked her. He leaned over her, a soft smile on his face as he looked at Katara in all her beauty and glory of the moment she was being raped. "Kya, loved this." Hakoda confessed. "Your mother always wanted it so rough, some nights she would have me bruise her, to the point that the other people in the village would actually talk about it. But every night she always asked for more." He held his grip firm on her throat still strangling her as he pulled out her panties from her mouth. "No screams, but go ahead... ask your daddy for more.

Amongst boring and out-of-the-way towns in the Pokemon world, Twinleaf was among the most mundane. The only notable thing Twinleaf boasted beyond the standard fields of tall grass and dirt roads running between distant houses was the nice auditorium in the center of it all that occasionally held pokemon contests. But in recent times, the auditorium has been largely unused, few venturing this far out into the countryside to a town with little note. But those who did live in the village took pride in their small settlement. The neighbors each knew each other and spoke fondly of one another. Kind people tended to gravitate to Twinleaf town, another cause of its dull nature no doubt. Many youth who were raised in this village had big dreams of escaping it, almost all their conversations pertained to finding the most powerful Pokmon and making a run for it. It was hardly an empty threat as the population hemorrhaged those who did not reside here by choice. On this day, the clouds had set in early, signalling the possibility of an afternoon storm. The children in anticipation had already come in from the fields, boys terrorizing their mothers with muddy shoes and girls filling their houses with daisies they picked. Most in the town square packed up their stalls full of food, the crowd thinning out at the approaching rain. As you look out your window, you witness the town coming to a close in anticipation for the weather, yet there you sit warm and safe from the elements. Your home is as typical as Twinleaf, a few bedrooms and living spaces. As you sit in your room, a familiar knock comes to the door, a rapping that indicated your parents were not home, and your older sister was lonely once again. It was an eager knock, but one you had a slight trepidation about. Your sister Kokoro had come accustomed to being all too familiar with you since her last breakup with an inattentive boyfriend. Her insatiable lust growing each time she came to you, groping you here and there, pressing herself against you, exposing herself, and you know that today she would most likely take it even further. "I'm cold and it's about to rain, won't you cuddle with me little bro?" Kokoro's tone to those unfamiliar would sound innocent enough, except you recognized the lewd undertones. Alone in the house with this pushy girl, you must decide to engage or run, her unwanted advances surely would be tenfold today.

Zeke was like every other kid in Twinleaf; he was overjoyed when he received his partner Pokemon, a female Snorunt who he hoped to evolve into a Froslass one day. It became extremely clear that he wouldn't be able to do so in his hometown though. He and many of the other children took to wandering in the tall grass now that they had their own Pokemon, and at first it went great! Snorunt had been getting stronger but eventually she plateaued - the surrounding Pokemon were just too weak. Zeke wanted to get out there and make a name for himself, he wanted to go catch strong Pokemon and challenge the champion. The young trainer had a long road ahead of him though; many strong trainers to face and unique encounters with both humans and Pokemon. He had made up his mind that he was going to leave, but he'd never gone through with it yet. Despite his town being small and rather rural compared to most, it had its charms. The inhabitants were all very nice; everyone knew each other and helped out where they could. It was also where Zeke grew up - it was a difficult thing to leave this all behind, but tomorrow he was going to do it. There was a storm coming in, and the young trainer watched the town prepare for it. He would miss the sights and sounds of his hometown, but it was time to move onto bigger things. A knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts. Zeke knew right away that it was his sister and that his parents must not be home. His sisters always came to him like this when they were gone; he knew it was wrong and that he should stop her, but there was nothing he could do. Kokoro would take what she wanted, and so Zeke always went along with whatever antics she started. It never went much more than groping him or rubbing up on him - a few times she even flashed him, which just made him confused. He was a male, and so he of course got hard between his legs, but this was his sister - surely he shouldn't be feeling this. O-okay, Zeke called back out with a red face. Either he obliged and followed his sisters request or she would end up bugging him the entire night and eventually end up doing it anyways. The young trainer wasn't ready to leave yet, especially not with this storm coming tonight. He did hear the lewd undertone to her innocent request. He walked to the door of his room and opened it, both curious and nervous to what he would see and what would happen on his last night in Twinleaf.

Light and Shadow" Paris. 1918. It was dark in the room. The only light was the red and blue of the neon lights of the hotel sign, shining through the slats of the blinds and reflecting from the large mirror above the ornate dresser on the opposite wall. Streaks of light played across the furnishings - a king-sized four-post bed and canopy, two wing-backed chairs and a small table, a wardrobe. Distantly, the sounds of the Parisian streets could be heard. The door opened, granting a glimpse of the rooms beyond. A tall, slim man entered. His dark hair was somewhat longer than was fashionable, and his dark goatee gave his features a saturnine air, and his pale skin shone in the dim light. He wore a grey suit and white shirt, with a paisley silk tie, and walked with a swaying, rolling gait like that if a man too long at sea. A woman followed him, laughing and hanging on to his hand. She was small, with a great mass of wavy chestnut hair and dancing blue eyes, and skin the color of coffee and cream. Her white dress clung to her proud, slim body and left her long, coltish legs bare below the knees. She drew herself into the man's arms, her lips rising to meet his as they stepped to one side. His hands cupped her firm behind as her arms twined around his neck, and tongues lazily duelled as they kissed deeply. "So forward, Monseur Sparrow!" she laughed, her fingers stroking his neck and loosening his tie. The knot came undone and she undid the top two buttons, placing gentle kisses on the skin beneath. "Whatever would your wife say, if she saw us!

Their laughter echoed in the alleyway, the sound of their stumbling footsteps following them around the corner. Whispers, giggles, kisses, caresses complemented perfectly the blare of a trumpet and the occasional stare. She'd found a new obsession in the contrast of their skin and couldn't stop staring, watching her hand in his, their laced fingers. He was so different from anyone she'd ever been with before. They tumbled together through the dark rooms until they found the knob for the appropriate one. "Jack!" She only ever called him Jack when he was in trouble. The petite redhead's eyes flicked over them both before she slapped him though not half as hard as she felt he deserved. "Why would you do that?" she demanded. "I told you to wait for us. You remember what happened in Singapore." The women's eyes met for a moment and they shared a knowing smirk before a pair of large, muscled arms wrapped around her waist. "She can be very persuasive, chere," the second man mumbled into her neck, placing kisses along her throat and shoulder. "You are very much alike." Dark hands slid down her black beaded dress, gathering the fabric in bunches, pulling the skirt up around her hips. Jack's wife met his eyes with a triumphant little smirk before she turned to face her companion. A black silk tie and waistcoat were the only interruptions of color in his white suit and it was on those she focused now, her fingers deftly managing both before she was once again distracted. Her pale hands seemed to glow in the dim neon light against coffee-dark skin as they slid over his shaved pate and down to his cheeks where she held him before pushing herself up onto her toes to cush a kiss to his lips. Celine--for the woman in Jack's arms was named Celine--grinned over Jack's shoulder at the two before returning her attention to the man at hand. Slender fingers forced the surrender of two more buttons and her hands splayed across his chest, pushing the fabric partway off of his shoulders while she traced more kisses over his skin. "Your wife is too hard on you, Monsieur Sparrow, and my husband too lenient." Her kisses strayed up his neck as she undid his last few buttons, untucking his shirt and pushing it and his suit coat to the floor. "Perhaps we can earn forgiveness if we show them just how persuasive I can be, non?

As Claire woke, surrounded by the dusty rose silk of her bedsheets and the cream color of her heavy down comforter, she groggily wondered if the entire weekend had been a dream. Where she normally would have spent it out shopping with her friends, perhaps attending the football game on Friday and a party afterwards, she only had vivid memories of a raucous Saturday morning with four people she never would have thought she'd keep company with save Andy, perhaps, but the others were completely unpredictable. Fond memories of laughing over marijuana smoke with Brian and Andy, brushing Allison's hair back as she applied lighter makeup, and oh, John rushed to her head, causing her to smile as she pulled the covers over her head briefly, not wanting to leave the dream behind. Of course, it was reality, something that became clear as her foggy mind began to wake, which propelled her out of bed even faster than days she'd planned on skipping to hang out with her friends, already in the shower within minutes of waking up. It was rare that she was getting ready so early, usually preferring to delay the start to her school day as long as possible; the act she put on every day of pretending to be perfect and preferring her stuck-up, snotty friends was exhausting, and not one she was ever happy to begin but today, she found herself singing a Duran Duran song in the shower, staring at herself in the mirror with a pleased sigh as she began preparing for the day. Once her short red hair was blow-dried to perfection and a bit of natural makeup was applied to her face, she strode to her closet clad only in a plush pink robe, throwing the doors open to scan her wardrobe for something suitable. It took her much longer than usual, making her thankful that she'd begun her routine much earlier; though she was used to crafting a look that was the perfect balance of stylish and effortless, today the stakes were much higher. Rifling through the boundless options, she finally settled on a sleeker look than usual, trading in her flowing skirt for a more form-fitting pencil style and ditching her high boots for a pair of trendy, yet a bit risqu, pumps. The neckline on her shirt was just a bit lower than usual, and while her friends would likely either not notice or make a short comment about her looking to gain someone's attention, she hoped that the difference would be enough to make them correct. It was still early, much earlier than she usually arrived, when she stepped out of her father's BMW, heels clicking against the pavement as she waved goodbye and headed into the school on her own. Instead of joining her group of friends for a bit of pre-class gossip, Claire made an easy excuse about how she needed to do some extra work from detention and spent a bit of time alone before her first class began, silently panicking over the biggest decision she'd ever had to make in her life. What did she do? Did she continue in a life she detested, making her parents and her friends content while sacrificing her own happiness? Did she throw herself into her campaign for prom queen, focusing only on the superficial things she'd grown to hate? After that day in detention, she didn't know if she could bear keeping up the faade, but to not do so would mean social suicide. Was she ready to give up everything she'd worked for? She spent her morning classes in silent contemplation, skittishly avoiding joining up with her friends and doing her best to ignore the whispers about her strange behavior. When the lunch bell rang, she jumped, gathering her things and steeling herself as she entered the hallway. "Hi, Brian," left her red lips before she could stop herself, and, figuring she was in too deep now, she accompanied the greeting with a shy wave and a small smile. The blonde boy stuttered, attempting to return the greeting, but settling with returning the wave as his face reddened. Well, she'd done it now. She knew the small gesture would spread through the cafeteria like wildfire, so she marched into the room with her head held high, lunchbox clutched in pale, white-knuckled hands. When she arrived, she expected all eyes to be on her as usual, but instead, their attention seemed focused elsewhere. Sat at a table right in the middle of the cafeteria were Andy and Allison, him chattering away nervously about something or other as she giggled and hid her face in between preparing another one of her unconventional lunches. The student body gaggled at them, gossip and nasty things already beginning to circulate, and Claire made her final decision then and there. Striding confidently through the crowd, the noise of her heels drawing and commanding attention, she plunked her lunchbox down on their table and sat down, beginning to unpack her salad as though it was something she did every day. "Hi, Andy, hi, Allison," she greeted them breezily as she drizzled salad dressing over her food. "Oh, there's Brian!" she grinned as she saw the boy enter the cafeteria. She raised a manicured hand to wave to him. "Brian! Over here!" she called as she patted the seat next to her, staring out at the crowd as though daring them to say anything. As the students continued to chitter, the final member of their fivesome entered the cafeteria, and while Claire didn't call out to him like she had Brian, it was easy for her to meet his eyes. Cocking her head towards the four of them, she silently invited him to join, holding her breath as she waited for him to react.

The previous day had been unreal. Claire had shown some interest in the fact that he had a little black book of sorts. Interest, not disgust as expected. Then, no matter how crude or callous or critical he was of her, she had kept coming back for more. He'd seen the look before, of course, given how many girls he'd been with, but he had never expected to get that look from the pristine princess that was Claire Standish. 'Stand offish' was the nick name she'd been given, and he had known even before he and Allison had started to fuck with her, that she was a virgin. Allison... he was pretty sure that he'd fucked her at some party, before she became a self-imposed social outcast... maybe? Goth types all looked the same to him. It had certainly been too long ago for her to recall what happened through a vodka-induced haze, and he wasn't going to remind her, especially since all his attention was focused on Claire. Whatever had happened on a one night stand with Allison paled next to what he wanted to do to the hot redhead with the 'fuck my mouth' lips and 'hammer me hard' body. It had been all he could do to stop himself bending her over her father's car and raping her when she had kissed him goodbye, with a heat that suggested 'until we meet again'. All through watching her glide her lips with her tits, then seeing her spread her legs and keep silent when he was under her desk, to her impromptu appearance in the storage room he had been stuck in, by the fuck of a teacher they had for detention... through all that he'd been hard, hard and calculating what his chances were. She was attracted to bad boys for a fact, that was clear from the moment she had tried to help him when he'd disabled the door in the library, it was a tale as old as time and he embraced it. First chance he got he was going to ruin her, for any 'good' boys who might try and follow him. By the time he was done, her parents would be united, which was good for her, united in their hatred of the bad boy fucker who had ruined their pristine little girl, for any other man or even arranged marriage they might have been planning for their princess. He'd gone to the party Andrew had mentioned that very night. It was a pity that Claire was grounded, but Saturday night party time was a time when the undesirables, like himself, were permitted to associate with the rich pricks... because they needed to get their weed from somewhere and he was in a position, with his friends, to provide it and more. Those parties were also where he saw plenty of princesses getting their piece of rough. He might have joined those he witnessed, except for some reason, that night, all he could think about was Claire. Claire and all the missed chances to fuck her that he'd had in school that day. When he was under that desk, he could almost taste her pussy, he wondered if she had been wet, even a little, wondered if she would have still kept her mouth shut if he'd stroked open her lips or lashed her clit with his tongue. Then there was her appearance in the store room, when they'd kissed each others faces off, his hands were everywhere and he'd practically fucked her lips with his mouth. So much so that when they'd partied, with her gift of a diamond earring that he would never part with, he had known exactly what she would be doing that night. Fingering herself hard while mummy and daddy grounded her, while moaning his name and dreaming about what the bad boy was going to do to her next time he got his hands on her. Monday morning he woke up with 'All the things she said' by one of his fave bands playing in his head. Of course 'she' hadn't said much, except with the raw passion of her lips on his, the feel of her hands, the smell of her hundred dollar perfume and the taste of a tongue that got bathed with vintage wine and 'rich people' food. Claire had a taste he wasn't going to soon forget, something more addictive than weed by far, and more delicious than he imagined her cunt might taste like. He hit the shower, threw on jeans and a lumberjack shirt to go with his coat and scarf, then grabbed some toast on the way out of the door, after weathering a kiss from his mother, and started the walk to school. His father had left for work early, hard day at the office on Mondays. Of course, that wasn't the more violent father who used to use him as an ashtray... he'd ditched that one when he'd been assigned foster parents. Naturally, he had an image to keep up, and a happyish home life didn't fit that dynamic. Well, as happy as it could be he supposed. He didn't connect with his new family, but he managed to keep his school antics and home life separate. He wondered how things were going to pan out at school. He knew he wasn't going to give Claire an easy time. Hell, she might have regretted her earlier antics and be telling the principle how he stole one her diamonds even as he headed in... but he didn't think so. he imagined her getting wet at the thought of what a knew day in the sights of Bad boy Bender might bring her. He wondered too. As soon as he saw her, in 'fuck me' pumps, with a teasing neckline and a skirt that clung to her perfect thighs like glue, he knew she wanted to get fucked. Hopefully he was the target, and if he wasn't... well... at least he didn't have to worry about the wrestler, he'd already seen him all over Allison, or rather Allison chapter two. He eye fucked her all the way from her daddy's car into the quad. She didn't even see him, perched on the low branch of the tree there, and he continued to spy on her as she bounced off her friends and vanished out of sight, prompting him to hop down and saunter in her direction. Andrew had been half right, in that while people might not notice if he disappeared, they certainly didn't notice him unless he walked right up to them, except to avoid. Not Claire's group of friends anyway. He was also happily ignored by several teachers, ones who were so glad when he ditched class, they didn't even report him. Combined with a few hall monitors who were happy to give him a wide berth when he stared at them, he was able to cruise past a few of her classes, watching her through the windows unobserved. Was his behavior a little obsessive? You didn't get a shot at a princess every day, and he was a leg up as this princess wanted him... she was prepared to take risks for him, was likely as hot for him as he was for her. Lunchtime he followed her, everyone's eyes were on the wrestler and the basket case, he smirked as he saw Claire move over to them. Was she jealous of the attention, or had one night in detention really messed her up and set her on another course? He moved along the cafeteria line, grabbed a milk and some random dish. What was that? Something covered in custard? Then he wandered over to the table where they were, grabbing a chair from an adjacent table and spinning it around to sink down onto it while he forced his tray onto the table, next to Claire's. He nodded around the table, swapped his tray with Brian's, who had a more appetising sandwich on it, paused, then swapped them back with a shrug. He might as well put in some effort, they were. "What is this? The Lunchtime club? I'm impressed, but it's just day one... plenty of time for peer pressure to fuck you all up." He half scowled. He wondered if anyone was going to notice that earring in his ear? Or what it might mean. Sitting with these people? It dissolved his invisibility, and he didn't like the potential attention. He was about to say something else, then paused as he looked over Allison's lunch with a quizzical and bewildered eye, skimmed past the pile of food that Andrew had on his plate, then rested his eyes on Claire. He wondered how she was going to deal with this shit later, then felt that he didn't care. The more ostracised from her rich friends she was the better really. "You didn't show up at the party." he quipped, "I guess you really did get grounded." he shrugged. "To be honest I'm surprised to see you here... I thought you'd be cutting school for the sales at the mall. I doubt they'd consider you doing it again, not so soon, besides, if you did get caught you'd just end up in detention... and I could use the entertainment. Got to find some way to keep myself amused for the next couple of months after all" he grinned. His tone was casual, but the look in his eyes was hot predatory lust, his gaze dropping to her neck, stroking up past her pouting lips to her face. He leaned in, whispered into her ear. "Want to go get wasted, or something, in the parking lot?" he asked her. "It's either that, or I bust you out of your next lesson the hard way, with another false alarm." he shrugged, leaning back and digging a spoon into the bowl in front of him, casually playing with his food. He hoped she was as hungry as he was, to continue what they had started.

@Frozen Princess Alina had learned that morning that she was to be transferred. Though part of her would like to think that she would finally be free of the constant tests and experiments. By now she knew that was not going to be the case, but she had a plan. Usually, they gas her to knock her out since darts or needles could not be used with her subconscious barrier blocking them even if she was asleep. Though her barrier blocks the gas, it was only able to keep it out for as long as her air pocket lasted, though recently it seemed like her barrier had developed an ability to simply filter the clean air in. Then as they place the mask over her face when strapped into the stretcher they use to transfer her, she would create another small space to allow the gas to be stored around her body while she breathed fresh air since that was sealed. It did not take long for her plan to come into action, it went surprisingly well, though she did get knocked out for a short time, due to her not quite performing the mask block technique properly. She awoke mid helicopter ride during transfer, not what she hoped it would have to do. She used the barrier she had learned to create and control to get between the spinning blades of the helicopter. It worked better than she could have hoped as nearly immediately the helicopter came plunging down. Crashing into the large yard belonging to Superhero High! Though that was not something Alina was aware of. The crash happened so fast the pilot wasn't even able to call out the mayday before they hit the ground, sending the guards and pilot to their deaths as Alina only managed to survive the brutal crash because of her barrier. Though she was still exhausted from the gas that managed to get into her system, combined with the stress of experiencing a helicopter crash knocked her unconscious.

The students of Superhero High were eating dinner before everyone was to retire to their respective dorm rooms for the night, although Supergirl had other plans. Everyone knew that due to her alien physiology and the fact that she had not done anything sexual (even with a girl) before leaving Krypton and coming to Earth's yellow sun... She found she could only get relief from girls. Usually the same ones. Tonight was no different than any other Italian night. Batgirl, who Supergirl usually sat with, shook her head as she held up a hand. "Kara! Aauugghh! You have had six pieces of garlic bread already! I'm not even kissing you, little alone making out! Not tonight! Woof, you need to lay off the garlic, girl!" Harley Quinn laughed merrily. "Heeheehee at least no Kryptonian vampire would wanna sink their teeth into her!" Supergirl approached with that look and Harley readied her bat, swinging it like a batter ready for a pitch. "Don't think it, Lady Blue! You reek of garlic!" Not deterred she went to Ivy next. "I don't know how my new powers work yet, Kara, but just your breath and my pets both complain and wilt! Go away with your stinky plant suffocating smell!" Wolverine watched all this with mild amusement until the crash happened and the smell tickled his nostrils. "Football field, heroes! Move it! Check for survivors and put out any fire you see any way you can!" Logan pretty much led the charge as he was the physical education trainer/instructor at the school. The mad rush out the cafeteria was led by Wolverine, until Flash zipped by followed by Velocity a moment later... Until Supergirl beat them both and started blowing garlic breath, extinguishing flames and any heroic student foolish enough to get in her way, or rather, her breath's way. Catwoman, Wonder Woman, Velocity and Flash all lay on the still smoldering ground, choking and gagging from garlic inhalation, tears streaming from their eyes. Wolverine was as adamant as his adamantium bones. "SUPERGIRL!" he barked, "Bucket brigade! Now!" "But it worked!" Kara complained. "NOW!" Wolverine ordered, pointing to the faucet. "Four friendly fire casualties, heroes, get them to fresh air! Batbrains! With me!" Barbara was in no wise going to correct her phys ed instructor about her name, so she dutifully helped Wolverine look amongst the wreckage. "Doesn't matter how bad Kara's garlic breath is, Mr. Logan, there's no way she did that." She pointed and Wolverine shook his head as he saw the charred remains. "Move on, Missy. Nothing can be done. Let's keep looking." Ivy was doing her best with a seeming plant blanket, smothering embers that shot out of the woods the bucket brigade was at just on the edge of the property. She noticed the unconscious survivor, as she could some how sense a heartbeat. Tilting her head, she approached both curiously and cautiously. "Quickly friends," she said to some nearby ivies and the carpet of grass. "Careful to the infirmary. No time to lose. Oh, I know your burns hurt, my grass friend, but she's alive. Mr. Logan is too busy..." She grimaced as Wolverine let out a gutteral growl of "KARA!!! KEEP YOUR BLASTED GARLIC BREATH IN YOUR MOUTH! YOU'RE TO REMAIN SILENT THE REST OF THE NIGHT! NOT A PEEP OUTTA YA! Lady Shazam! Another hero casualty! I need a brewski..." Ivy silently snuck away to the infirmary with the lone survivor of the crash.

Welcome to a jinsley GOT/HOTD production! tab tab tab *Hey! Did you know there is a modern au? check it out here!* valar morghulis "My Life" PRINCESS VISAERA TARGARYEN THE LITTLE JEWEL VISAERA (COMMON TONGUE) tab VISAERA (HIGH VALYRIAN) tab OTHERS The only sounds Visaera Targaryen could hear other than the wind blowing aggressively against her face were the rhythmic beats of Moonfyres massive wings and her pounding heart. It was her dragons wings that she focused on to distract her. They had been flying for hours now. Even though she left Highgarden very early that morning, she knew it would take at least half the day to arrive at Kings Landing. And as much as she wanted to make it a non-stop flight, her aching hands couldn't hold onto her dragons scales for long. She lost nearly all feeling to her fingers long ago and had to constantly look down at her sore hands just to know that she was still holding on. Besides, it wasn't like Moonfyre would even listen to her if she asked him to land so that they could rest. The sky was his kingdom and he would never sacrifice it for anyone; not even his rider. Visaera squinted against the wind, keeping her gaze focused. There was nothing but green below them whenever there was a break in the clouds. Every once in a while they would pass a small village or a handful of houses. She hadn't seen a town since leaving the lands of Highgarden. And as they steered away from the path of the Roseroad, they probably wouldn't see another town until they arrived at Kings Landing. The hours trapped in the sky left Visaera with too much time to ponder. Millions of thoughts flashed in and out of her mind. When she wasn't laboring over her efforts to remain on dragonback or focusing on his wing beats against the wind to distract from said labors, she was thinking about the last three years. How she had been forced to leave her home to stay with the Tyrells. How she was now leaving what felt like her second family. Lady Tyrell had not protested Visaera's decision to return to Kings Landing a year before her wedding to her son, but she also didn't approve of it. But Lady Tyrell was just like her long ago; pulled away from her family at a young age to marry into a noble family. Visaera would miss the many women she befriended and loved in Highgarden. But abandoning them was important to her. She needed this year away from what was to be her future to return to what truly is most important. Virys. Visaera's eyes stung as the brutal winds dried her tears. Three years. It had been three years since she last saw her twin brother. Her other half. Her Life. It was only because she clung to thoughts of him that she survived these three years away from him. Although it pained her that he hadnt come to visit her in the time they were separated, she still hung on to the hope that everything that was shared between them before they were separated by duty remained. To hell with what the rumors and news told her about what he did to keep busy in Kings Landing without her. Visaera knew deep down in her heart the very heart that beats just for him that he would never, ever stray. While they had not expressed it out loud the last time they were together, Visaera knew. She knew it from the moment his lips touched hers that night before he left her to fight another one of their father's battles. She knew it in the way he held her that entire night. And she needed this year before she gave herself to duty and Deric Tyrell to show him, tell him, that no matter what life threw at them to pull them apart, she would always love him and only him. Virys Targaryen was her Life and without him life itself was meaningless. Moonfyre suddenly shifted under her, turning abruptly east with a strong pump of his massive wings. Visaera winced, tightening her legs against his hard dragon scales to hold on. All thoughts of her twin brother vanished as she focused on not falling. But with this brief, sudden distraction, other darker thoughts crept in. Viasera shut her eyes tight, begging and urging for The Darkness to disappear. She muttered under her breath a prayer to The Mother for mercy and peace and then a prayer to The Warrior for strength against what was about to come. Tears swelled once again as she felt the shadowy curtain fall over her, revealing the menacing demons that slithered along her spine and presented the first licks in her mind. What if he doesn't love you anymore? Or, what if he never did? Why exert all this energy to return to him when he so obviously no longer wants you? He has fucked his way through almost all of Kings Landing. What use does he have with someone like you? A heaviness clenched at her chest as the thoughts grew louder. As always, they were cruel to Visaera. They were menacing with the illest of intent. No matter how many years passed or how much she fought back, It always came back stronger and ready to attack at a moment of weakness. But Visaera wasn't going to back down. No. She hadn't suffered and fought for three years to give into Its seductive suggestions to let go; to release her iron grip of Moonfyres scales. With one more prayer to the Gods, she opened her eyes to focus on all that was in front of her and let the light back in. Slowly, but very reluctantly, The Darkness slithered away leaving chills down her spine as it vanished. She couldn't allow It to return before she returned to Kings Landing. She wouldn't allow anything to deter her from returning to her dear brother's arms. He was waiting for her. She knew it. To hell with all the rumors and facts she heard about him over the last three years, she knew him better than anyone in all the Seven Kingdoms. Virys needed her just as much as she needed him. After being airborne for nearly half the day, Visaera held her breath as Moonfyre made his quick descent from the clouds to fly over Kings Landing. The Great Sept was the first landmark she noticed once her vision had sharpened. But she didn't focus on it for too long, turning her attention immediately to the Red Keep as it loomed above the city. Finally, she was home. She wanted so very much to just fly right to the Keep and begin the reunion that mattered to her the most. But she knew she couldn't. Prior to her departure from Highgarden, she made arrangements with her family to reunite with them elsewhere. So after one last look at her home, Visaera shouted her instructions to her dragon and once more tightened her grip to prepare for his complete descent, his large shadow looming over the many brick buildings they passed as they soared above the city. She wasn't surprised to see only her mother and Saera, her older sister, were on the royal beaches awaiting her arrival. Even though she was informed that all of her family would come to welcome her home, she never once expected her father, King Aerys, or any of her half siblings from his first marriage to be in attendance. What surprised her and disappointed her was the absence of the one member of her entire family that she actually cared to see the moment she landed. Visaera didn't bother to hide the frown as she climbed off Moonfyre. As soon as her feet touched the sand, her dragon spread his wings and returned to the skies. The poor dragon keepers were not going to see him for a while. No amount of High Valyrian commands were going to force her free soaring companion back into the Dragonpit. She just hoped the neighboring farms were ready. Her disappointment remained despite her small smile as her mother and sister approached. Unlike her, they were all smiles and excitement as they took their turns embracing her and welcoming her back. But that didn't stop her from returning the kind gestures. She immediately hugged Saera back and let her older sister gush over her apparent transformation since they last saw each other. When it was her mothers turn, Visaera offered her the barest of affection: a loose one-armed hug and a civil ear to hear all about how happy the woman was over her return. Visaera said nothing to her mother. She had nothing to say to her since she first saw the signs that she was abandoning her youngest son to the abuse of their family. They remained on the royal family's private beach for longer than Visaera would have liked and her anxious impatience gradually started to show. Where is Virys? she asked, her eyes staring intently at the stairs that led to the Red Keep. Surely her brother saw her dragon earlier. Besides that, he had to know of her return. It wasn't like Saera, her most trusted confidante while she remained in Highgarden, to keep this good news from their little brother. Among their entire family, Saera was the only one who truly knew the extent and intensity of Visaera and Virys relationship. Her mother and sister paused and they made no effort to hide the hesitancy in their exchanged gazes. Visaera winced, trying to ignore the heaviness in her chest. Your brother is her mothers started, but paused to once more look at her eldest daughter. Saera sighed and nodded. He had a previous engagement. Visaeras face hardened. What do you mean? Did he not know of my return? Whatever this previous engagement was, it must be very important for him to prioritize it over her. Very little outranked her when it came to her brother. Saeras hands shifted awkwardly. Yes, he knew. Visaera stiffened, her hands closing into fists at her sides. Where is my brother? Her vision tunneled as she sped through the many corridors of the Red Keep. She completely abandoned all decorum as she took the multiple staircases two steps at a time. She ignored her mother's instructions to go to her bedchamber to freshen up and rest after her long journey. Rest meant nothing to her if it kept her away from Virys. When she arrived at the floor of Virys bedchamber, Visaera stopped and looked down one end of the corridor to another. Of course she knew where exactly his bedchamber was. That didn't stop her from needing a moment to catch her breath and prepare for the one moment she had imagined and dreamed of for three years. She had wanted this very moment for so long and she was finally going to have it. A rising heat spread throughout her body at the images that ran through her mind. As she took deep breaths in an attempt to calm herself, she pulled her hair from the bun she wore for her journey and let her long silvery locks fall down her back. She stared intently in the direction of her brother's bedchamber, her fingers tingling with anticipation of everything she planned to do with himfor him. A gentle moan accompanied her shuddering breath. Her body felt unnerved and impatient. But her mind still needed an extra moment to prepare for everything that she knew was about to occur between them once she opened his bedchamber door. What her hands would do. What her lips would do. Oh, how she ached for him. Her body immediately reacted to the scenarios that played in her head, now with Virys as the additional member to her party; a party that was only for two. She couldn't wait to feel him against her fingertips. To be wrapped in his arms once more. To run her hands through his long silver hair, just as she had that last night they were together. To press her lips eagerly to his once more and then let those same lips explore all of him. She needed him. She needed him so badly. This burning need propelled her forward at last. Her heart raced as his door came closer. Just a few more steps now. Visaera was just at the point of counting down the remaining steps until she reached his door when it suddenly opened. Her eyes widened, and her body froze. Maybe he sensed she was near and was just as impatient for their reunion. Her mind urged her to continue forward and meet him halfway. The longer she stood frozen with her back against the wall, the longer she delayed their long-awaited return into each other's arms. But just as she was about to take that first required step, another foot took a step first. The step that began its departure did not belong to a heavy boot. In fact, it didn't belong to a man at all. From that moment, Visaera felt as if her entire world was crumbling. And through the numerous cracks, The Darkness seeped through like water. It lapped around her feet as she watched a sandaled feminine foot turn into a smooth leg against the thinnest layer of fabric that could barely be considered a dress. The legs turned into curvy hips, a slender waist and ample breasts. It ended with a glazed over expression and disheveled hair as if hands had been through it continuously. It crawled up to her neck where It rested comfortably while licking at her ears and mind. So this is the previous engagement that is more important than you. Visaera couldn't even see the woman as she skipped past her, barely offering her a poor excuse of a curtsy before walking down the staircase. Her eyes continued to stare at the now closed bedchamber door. No. There must be some misunderstanding. Surely that woman hadn't just. You cannot deny what you saw. You know whose bedchamber that belongs to. It is no mistake. Visaera took shaky, hesitant steps forward. The fire that motivated her was extinguished now, leaving her with cold, icy torture and the need to know the truth. She couldn't believe it. Wouldn't believe it. Fuck what she had been told all these years. Fuck that it was Saera that had to tell her. He would never. The words came out like a much-needed breath and were uttered like a mantra as she stepped right in front of the closed door. He couldnt. He wouldn't. He did. As the door slowly opened, Visaeras eyes searched the bedchamber desperately. Everything looked familiar, but foreign at the same time. Nothing about this room felt like what she remembered. The scent was inescapable: a humid mixture of cheap and expensive perfumes and sweat. Each whiff was like a dagger to every part of her body. She couldn't even feel the heaviness in her chest as an emotional numbness came over her. But her eyes continued to search. She looked for just one sign that all of her fears and all she denied were not true. From the corner of her eye, she caught another figure stirring on the messy bed. Slowly, she turned, fear feeding It the ammunition needed to do more than lick at the back of her mind. As her eyes fell on the naked body that too turned in her direction, her own body shattered. Try as she might to deny it, but she could not reject the truth. The man on the bed, naked and showing obvious signs that he was recovering from passionate love making, was the very person she returned to Kings Landing to see. The very person she believed would wait for her. But there was a sharpness to him, a coldness. Even through hooded eyes there was a guarded blankness staring back at her. It was the final blow It needed to sink venomous teeth into her. You see? You see it, yes? You see the way he looks at you. There was no warmth in his gaze. For the briefest second, there was zero recognition in his eyes. You cannot deny any longer what is right in front of you. His distrust. His disdain. How dare you expect him to wait for you when it was YOU that left him? YOU that abandoned him! Her hands fell limp at her sides. She couldn't feel any part of her body anymore. It was almost as if she was watching this scene from outside of herself. He does not want you. He does not love you. You don't DESERVE HIM. She couldn't breathe, or maybe she just wasn't bothering to try. HE HATES YOU!

My Heart..." PRINCE VIRYS TARGARYEN THE SLIGHTED DRAGON VIRYS (COMMON TONGUE) tab VIRYS (HIGH VALYRIAN) tab OTHERS When Virys woke early that morning, it was his sister Saera paying him a visit with gifts and a reminder of what today was: that his other half was to return after being away at Highgarden for three painfully long years. She had brought new clothes she had made special for him, asked if she could do something with the mess that was his hair, and informed him she was having food brought up for him because, You look as though you havent eaten in days. Which was incorrect. Virys did eat, but very rarely did he do so outside of his own chambers. Nor did he ever accept invitations to dine with anyone, and so it was understandable for Saera to relate his slim, tired physique and social absence to not eating. However Virys said nothing in response to her observation, his eyes were instead trained on the garments shed draped over the back of the settee in front of the fireplace. Please, Virys. Get up, get dressed. I will return later today and we can walk over together? That was a tactic that had worked for her frequently in the past when he was a child. If she were ever unable to get Virys to do something without his twin sister present then she would offer to go with him. But this time around Virys never saw her later. It was likely Saera truly did return to walk with him, but the sounds from his bedchamber would have sent her on to receive their sister alone Virys on the other hand, was far from alone. Sweat had short silvery hair clinging to his face, pale skin flushed, and voice rough as his actions were with the young woman in his bed. He was not violent with her, he never intentionally hurt any of the women he slept with. But he was definitely known for being rough, an outlet for his fiery temper to reach a temporary release. He had long been told of all the benefits of sex. It was said to help relieve pain and stress even boost his general health. Some swore it kept their beer bellies at bay, or would trick their minds into forgetting they were hungry. Hed listened to men tell countless stories of how good it felt. Or point out all their favorite parts on a woman, judging them solely on their physical appearances aloneappearances which had zero effect on Virys. In fact none of these benefits ever graced Virys. If anything sex had complete opposite effects on him. He found it boring and even frustrating. It allowed his mind to wander and brood, and the thoughts he would land on often only further agitated him. Like Visaera was so prominent in his thoughts that his white hot anger was even affecting his vision, causing bright light spots to plague his eyes. His lips moved on their own but without uttering a sound as he mouthed the words "My Heart," while his fingers ran through her silver locks until his vision returned to normal and the darkness settled back into both her hair and his own heart. Virys' grip tightened, resulting in a squeak of pain from the woman beneath him that quickly transformed into spine-tingling moans. Even if she had wanted to escape there was no space for her to wriggle free with how close he was pressed against her. Their skin stuck together everywhere they were in contact, and despite his slim appearance he weighed far too much for her to move on her own. It wasn't until he felt her shudder, her nails digging into his skin, that he finally slowed to a stop. Both were out of breath and for a moment neither made any effort to move beyond Virys lifting his head to look down at her face. She offered him a small smile, her hand leaving his upper body to instead trace his hairline and free all the silver from sticking to his forehead. At her next attempt at affectionate action, he pulled back out of reach. "Don't." He proceeded to then pull out of her and settled next to her on the bed with a frustrated groan. The warning tone in his voice would have worked on just about anyone else, but he had spent more nights with this woman than anyone else, and so she knew which boundaries were safe to push and which to respect. This particular one she knew to be easy to crumble. It wasn't uncommon for her to finish well before him, and sometimes he wouldn't at all. But judging from how painfully hard he was as she sat up, today she couldn't just leave him despite how he reacted to her touch. Her hand high up on his thigh had him grabbing at her wrist to stop her, a growl deep in his throat continuing his earlier warning, but it did nothing to deter her as her fingers now gently caressed his leg. "You'll feel better, I promise." This was one of the only points regarding sex that was true for Virys. Yes it could feel good, but only physically and only briefly. Oftentimes immediately after, Virys would feel disgusted with himself. It wasn't the fact that he slept with whores; they were not weighing on his thoughts at all. Rather, he just felt dirty. Like watching a man get piss drunk and then vomit all over himself before waking up face down in a pool of his own waste. That was usually how sex felt for him. Great during, like enjoying drinks with good company, but once it was over, the aftermath often kicked in hard and fast. This wasn't to say he never enjoyed himself, but the fact that he usually didn't was what had him coming back over and over again, chasing a high he wasnt even sure existed for him. The only part of sex that had ever truly benefited Virys and that he could relate to everyone else was that it often helped him fall asleep. This was especially useful when his mind would run rampant for days and wake him at all hours of the night. The culmination of all the abuse he had endured and was still living through could leave him with many a sleepless night and a temper as high as the dragons could fly. He had been locked in one of those slumps during the days leading up to today: Visaeras return. And so maybe the reason he summoned one of his usuals to his bed was to help him sleep, or maybe he was just looking for any excuse to prolong avoiding their inevitable reunion. The sound of his door opening brought Virys out of his sleep. He hadn't noticed the woman leave his side, but the creaking of the hinges reached him despite the depths of his exhaustion and had Virys clench at the bed sheets as he protested internally at being woken so soon after having practically just fallen asleep. His brow furrowed, wishing to will himself back to sleep, however the lack of a second door sound quickly tipped him off that something was wrong. But what could possibly be wrong? He always paid up front, and no one would dare hassle any of the women he brought back to his bed. Had she just left the door wide open?! That wouldn't make any sense and was extremely uncharacteristic of her, but at this point he really couldn't fathom any reason as to why she hadn't closed the door. Opening his eyes came with some difficulty, his lids were so heavy with the desperate need for sleep. But he forced them all the same as he turned over just enough to glance over to see what was going on. What he found though was that his whore had long gone and instead a smaller, blonder girl stood in the doorway. There was no denying that initially Virys did not recognize this girl who had entered the privacy of his bedchamber. But what felt like minutes frozen in time was merely a few seconds flashing by as he came to an eerie realization of what he was seeing. It was softer, untouched by war, but it was his own face staring back at him. However, this was an impossible feat, as Virys had smashed countless mirrors over the years, all for the same crime that his reflection shared the appearance of his most painful memory, Visaera. While yes, he had known that she was to return today, part of him didn't think she actually would. And so he stared at her now in disbelief, as though she were some phantom in his head. While another part of him had been trying to avoid her, hence his current situation. Wanting to drown out his hurt and not knowing a better way than to overwhelm his senses with the exhaustion that came from fucking away the pain. He had fully intended to not rise from his bed for several hours. To just sleep away the day so as to not wait in anxious anticipation and then be disappointed when his sister did not appear. Only, here she was. She truly had returned. The grogginess in his voice masked the turmoil of emotions racing through him at her appearance. Part of him felt as though he could break down crying on the spot, but it was quickly getting overwhelmed as the fuse to his anger had been lit and it was merely a matter of time now until it caught up and went off. In the beginning, he had tried so many times to go see her in Highgarden. He'd had so many impulsive plans to rescue her. To show up with Yena and burn anyone and anything that got between them. After all that came to be, though, all he was good for was mass casualties and destruction. That was the only time anything ever worked out for him. But each time he tried, Yena went against the usual gentle and maternal nature she had for him and instead would challenge Virys. Blatantly refusing to obey while his emotions ran unchecked and out of control in his distraught rage. By the time he calmed down enough that he could fly, the voices in his head had convinced him not to. It didn't take long for his mourning to shift to loathing, passing the blame to her no matter how unreasonable he was being. She was the reason she had been taken away from him. She was too successful in her studies, actively pursuing a future that did not include him in it. She was the reason he had been left behind to suffer at the hands of their family, none of which were free from the charges. Not even Saera who had done nothing to assist him in bringing Visaera back home. She was the reason he was still plagued by the smell of burning flesh and the screams that came just before death, because she had always been waiting at home to heal his heart each time he went into battle until the day she wasn't and three years later he had yet to recover from that. But her biggest crime of all was loving him. Loving him and then leaving him haunted by the kiss he would never experience again no matter how many others he tasted. Virys was sitting up now, slowly swinging his legs over the side of the bed as though intending to get up and walk over to her. There had previously been an ignited heat in his eyes, taking in her new appearance and the way her long hair framed her perfect and now mature face, leading his gaze downward to how much of her skin was exposed by this new fashion she had shown up in. But now a coldness was settling in as his thoughts raced with all the things he held her accountable for. But even still a conflicting yearning stirred in his heart which was what drove his need to approach her. He didn't get to finish his sentence, his bare feet having only just touched the cold floor when she turned with such a quickness that by the time he realized what was happening she was already gone. Gone. She had left him again. The cold beneath his feet that had initially been helping to ground him against his temper soon became unrecognizable as a dangerous warmth spread out in every direction from the bottom of his chest. He couldn't breathe. The pressure on his lungs was so intense that his mind went blank, unable to process anything beyond the memory of watching her turn and run. Virys jaw clenched tightly, his fingers twitching, longing to feel her in his hands. His tongue ran over his lower lip, both out of irritation and craving. It was a rare phenomenon for him to feel so useless, and his blood boiled angrily inside with each passing minute until at last he stood to his feet. There was a glass and pitcher of wine left out on his table from having shared a drink earlier, but he only got so far as filling the glass halfway. At that point, he let the pitcher clatter back onto the table, picked up the glass, and threw it hard across the room. The wine flew, and the glass shattered on impact. Time was lost on Virys after that. Nothing mattered to him anymore. The other half of his heart had finally returned, and neither pain nor pleasure could convince him to chase after her. He wanted nothing to do with her. He wanted her here on the bed with him. He was better off without her, as he couldn't bear receiving any new wounds. He wanted to pin her down and never let her leave him again. He wanted to grab her by the neck so tightly and force the very air she breathed to come from him alone because no one, in either the heavens or the earth could touch her. The back-and-forth of his polar emotions eventually lulled him back to a light sleep as his body and mind both gave out on him and abandoned his racing heart, fueled by the blood still simmering through his veins. But a knock at his door and someone calling his name pulled his consciousness back out with a sense of deja vu when he turned over at the sound of his door opening again. Saera had returned, although it was unclear whether she had seen or spoken to Visaera after her twin had fled from his room. Or if she was simply checking in on him for his sake. But regardless, it was no secret that he had not been on the beach to welcome his beloved sister home. And Saera knew better than anyone in all of the seven kingdoms just how hard the separation had been for him. It was very unexpected for him not to have gone to see Visaeras arrival. He should have been camped out there since dawn. But Saera was neither naive nor ignorant to his demons. Having experienced a few of his raging rants over the past three years, she was familiar with how much anger he harbored for his twin, and the fact that he wasn't currently with Visaera told her all she needed to know: their reunion hadn't been a happy one. Neither sibling spoke for a while though. It was almost as though they were analyzing one another, trying to read the other's mind. Saera knew that if she said the wrong thing then the next words from his mouth would be poison. And Virys knew she knew. In fact it was almost amusing watching her mind plot out the safest course of action. Virys had been subjected to cruelty and being the source of others disappointment all his life. And while Saera had spent all her years in Kings Landing trying to protect him from it all. This time was different. This time she was intervening in the twins affairs knowing that neither would survive if it got too out of hand. So in the end, she chose not to baby him, not this time around. Compared to the morning when Virys wouldn't look her in the eye, now he was practically burning holes in her with his stare. She lifted her chin and swallowed. She was nervous. And rightfully so. Saera was no stranger to her brother's ways, and while she knew he would not harm her the way she had seen him assault others who had upset him, she still harbored a general fear of his outbursts. She had seen Visaera quiet him with ease with just a touch of her fingertips and a few velvety assurances in Valyrian as though he were a dragon. But while Saera knew and understood her brother well, she lacked that soulmate connection the twins shared and as such was not confident she would be able to reel him back if things got out of hand. It wouldn't take a genius to tell that Virys wasn't mentally at a place where he could hear others today. She would be unable to break through his armored heart to talk any sense into him. But that didn't mean she couldn't try to plant a seed for later. "Mother is having the kitchen prepare Visaeras favorite foods." That was all the hint Virys needed: a subtle invitation to join them later to eat. But Saera also knew that there were a lot of uncertain factors at play in her plan. She was fairly certain she could convince their mother to humor them a while longer before showing up to eat. But Virys was the wildcard in this scenario; he hated the two women he loved the most in the world - their mother and Visaera - but he couldn't forgive their mother for abandoning him as a child, which made it difficult for him to trust her. His relationship with their mother was so off-and-on, and it was clear he wanted her love as he had felt as a small child. However, he couldn't forgive her for betraying him, which constantly let him down and caused him to be upset. When Virys finally came downstairs, he was dressed in new clothes that Saera had brought him earlier that morning, though his hair was still unkempt after his earlier session and subsequent multiple naps. He noticed two things immediately upon entering the room: firstly, he was clearly an unexpected guest; secondly, Visaera. Almost immediately, his eyes landed on her and he was unable to look away. He had come down thinking that he wanted to see her but now that he was here, he could feel the pain bubbling inside of him and regretted having ever left the safety of his room upstairs. He should have just gone to the dragon pits and sought comfort from Yena, who was the only one who would never leave his side. Even when she did not agree with him, she matched his temper head-on and didn't tiptoe around him. But he was already there, frozen in place, completely captivated by everything Visaera had become over their years apart while simultaneously feeling the wounds she had left behind fester in her presence. He could hear their mother fumbling with her words as she tried to invite him to join them at the table, throwing useless apologies about how she didn't think he would be able to join them or else she would have sent for him earlier. Virys didn't offer her a single response; he was fixated completely on his other half and the way she wouldn't meet his gaze. Look at me. There was movement in the room as the attendants were ordered to fetch him a plate. Virys had half a mind to snap that he wouldn't be staying, but Visaera still had not acknowledged him either physically or verbally. Look at me! Virys, why don't you? Welcome home, sister, he didn't sound as distant as he did, but Virys emotions had his entire system on edge and unable to settle now that he was finally face to face with her. He did manage to cross over to the table though, consciously choosing to avoid his usual place beside her and instead opting to pull out the chair directly across, his eyes never once leaving her as he took a seat. You look well. While he had been here in Kings Landing losing more and more of himself each day that she was gone, Visaera was practically glowing. It appeared to Virys as though Highgarden had been kind to her, even suited her. From her dress to her hairstyle and fair skin, she absolutely embodied the kingdom. Whereas in contrast he had reached his all time lowest and it showed in the shadows under his eyes and the bruises and scars that decorated his skin. She had left him to suffer this pain alone and no one, not even Yena had been able to soothe his wounded heart. But Visaera did not look as though their time apart had affected her. She was fine. She didn't need him the way he needed her. She had grown and matured from the dependent relationship they had had their entire life leaving Virys stuck in the past. She didn't need him. But she was literally his heart, and in her absence he had felt his own beating weaker and weaker. In fact, it wasn't until today where it pounded painfully in his chest that he truly felt alive. And that was all because of her. Because she had returned to torment and tease him for the remaining days until she left the Targaryen family and officially became Tyrell. Visaera Tyrell, the name did not suit her. But it was not like it mattered how he felt about it. Clearly she didn't care about his concern in the matter or she never would have followed through with her engagement. Had their situations been reversed, he never would have left her. Never. And he would prove that from this point on. Everywhere she went, he would be there. He would be her shadow from today until her last day in Kings Landing. His head tilted, hair falling out of his eyes that had yet to leave Visaera and only moved to take in more and more of her new appearance. Longing to move closer, to feel her touch and her breath against his skin. To pull the strings from her dress and Virys shifted uncomfortably in his chair at the new sensation burning within alongside his anger. He busied himself by grabbing his glass as soon as the attendant presented it to him, taking a drink while Saera tried to navigate the situation she had created by recapping whatever Visaera had already shared with them of her trip and travels. However, it did little to nothing to lessen the intensity in Virys' eyes as he stared almost expectantly across at his twin, wondering how the hell she was able to survive without him all these years and come out looking so good while he had turned to stone without her and was one word away from crumbling to dust under the pressure.

Scarlet prowled the hotel bar, scanning the patrons for her target. Not the man she was going to kill. At least, not the man she was being paid to kill, but who knew where the evening might end up. Either way, she had found him. Dark hair, firm physique, piercing blue eyes. Her intentions for this man were more lascivious than homicidal. With a strut, she was Shadi, the easy-going blonde seductress. All the important work for tonight's job was done already. Shadi was her go-to when she needed to seduce a target she stood out too much otherwise, but tonight she would work for an alibi. After all, she didn't need to be in the same room as her target, and being seen chatting up a handsome man at the bar at the time of death would distance her from suspicion. Her dress wasn't too scandalous tonight. After all, this was a classy place, not some sleazy club full of half-naked dancers and free-flowing drugs. Her black leather dress clung to her figure, but didn't show much skin, especially paired with her thigh-high boots. Though, the peaking window of creamy cleavage couldn't be called modest. "This seat taken?" she asked, her voice tinged with a note of hope as she held his gaze. Her free hand grazed the back of his chair, not touching him, but close enough to feel her body heat. Still, she had to be careful not to come on too strong. He might worry that she was her target. The errant thought brought a small giggle to her lips, an act she hoped he would take for flirtation as she slid into her seat. "Shadi," she introduced, embracing the mask as she offered her hand. "I hope I am not bothering you. It's just the thought of spending the evening alone seems like such a waste.

His target was getting suspicious. That wasn't a surprise. Cienor Jissard was a dangerous combination of highly skilled and highly paranoid, which is why the man was still loose. He'd stated a jump ahead for three years and four sectors, and now he'd wormed his way into the inner circle of the Sector Governor. It would be necessary to throw Cienors suspicions off before he woke up in an isocube. If he woke up at all. Because if Cienor persuaded Governor Berick that he was, say, a Separatist agent well, the Governor might just arrange to have him killed. He fidgeted with the titanium cufflinks in his cream-colored shirt, flicked imaginary lint from his grey sleeve, and sighed. Undercover improvisation was dangerous. But not improvising could be fatal. So what could he do to stay within his established identity and still throw suspicion off? This seat taken? The voice, a smooth contralto, came from behind, accompanied by a gentle wash of displaced air that carried a subtle scent. He couldn't place it, but it seemed floral. Not at all, he replied, rising and pulling out the chair. The woman, a well-built blonde in a damn sexy black dress, slid into the chair with a casual grace and extended a hand. Shadi, she smiled. I hope I am not bothering you. It's just the thought of spending the evening alone seems like such a waste. Smiling in return, he caught her hand by the fingers and raised it to his lips. No bother at all, a gentleman, he replied with a twinkle in his eyes, must always stand ready to rescue a lady in distress. He chuckled as he released her hand, amused by the realization that the perfect way to throw off suspicion had just arrived. Harlan Kwan-Don, he said, offering his name in return. And quite seriously, the house wine is nothing special, but the pulkay is excellent.

Yamainu wasted no time in mounting her, holding her firmly as she moved to push inside her.

This breeding process would repeat several times throughout the night until Kaguya was too exhausted to continue. She had been thoroughly made a mess of, Yamamura's seed painting her thighs - she would need a bath soon, and if she was lucky, she would be carrying his child.

Carlyle had been living in the Fire Nation for a while now. Ever since she met who is now her boyfriend, she sort of had been living with him. A terrible tragedy among her Water Tribe left her the only survivor and taken in by him in secret, but then was found valuable to him since he is the Avatar. She was also his teacher when it came to waterbending. She was a young dark-skinned but fair-skinned sixteen-year-old girl, with beautiful blue eyes. She wore a necklace that her mother gave her just before she died, and she held her brother and father's possessions close to her heart; they were all she had left of them, and she wanted to preserve their memory for as long as she lived. Right now, she was bathing in the lake, nude of course, and sitting on a water-covered rock that hid her lower body and her back was turned to the exit of the lake. She had a pot in her hands that she filled up with water every so often when necessary to pour over her head and body to clean herself. Her short, wet, white and blonde hair flattened out as she wettened it, and as the water trickled down her fit and slim body more, it made her look far more exotic than she really was.

Houka had just left home looking for his girlfriend. He started by looking at the beach, one of their favorite training spots. "Where is she? She promised we could go on a date." He then wandered into the forest, towards the lake - another one of their training spots, this one more hidden. When he peeked in on the lake, he saw her there, nude, and blushed as he hid from her sight, watching her for a bit. "Carlyle!? Are you there!?" He finally called out, after a few minutes.

Venus Love Chain, encircle!" Mina shouted, a chain of hearts erupting from her fingers towards her enemy. The flower monster quickly dodged the attack and sent her vines at Sailor Venus, which the girl narrowly dodged, jumping out of the way but making a rather rough landing onto the ground. The monster sent numerous vines after the blonde though, each she dodged until she was hidden behind a wall, her breathing heavy. "Come out, sailor scout, give me your energy!" The monster screamed as she laughed maniacally, her vines slipping around the wall that Mina was hidden behind. Sailor Venus emerged from the alleyway back into the open street. She raised her hand and yelled, "Venus Love Cha-" but was cut off as vines encircled her, trapping her as the monster began to suck her energy. The flower monster laughed again, knowing that she had the blonde sailor scout caught and no one was around to help her.

I think it's time to mow the lawn," a voice said from the shadows as a wave of energy cut through the vines of the flower monster, cutting them off at the base and revealing her breasts as the cold night air started to make them hard. The creature yelped as its vines started to spray goo. "Who dares hurt me?" the creature said as it tried to mend its wounds. A figure in red and silver armor came out of the shadows, holding a sword-like device attached to his right wrist.

Fran looked down into the bag of supplies she was carrying. As usual, when the group stopped in a new town, she was in charge of restocking the various things they needed. Foods, supplies, that type of stuff. As she walked, she was looking into the bag to go over everything, making sure she didn't forget anything. She'd rather not get back to the ship and have to come all the way back because she forgot something. But because of this, she wasn't really watching where she was going. She was aware of people around her, so she didn't run into anyone, but she didn't really notice that she had unintentionally entered, what some would call, the bad part of town. It looked just like the rest of the decent-sized city, but the lecherous eyes already peering out of the shadows was a very key difference between the various sections and social classes of the city.

Two older gentlemen soon came walking down the street. Roughly in their forties, they stopped when they saw the young woman looking through a bag of supplies. "Excuse us miss, can we help you with something?" they asked, each of them slowly looking up and down her rather lightly clothed body. Each had a smirk on his face. Each had the same outfit, the standard for the desert villagers. One of them had sandy-colored hair; the other's was graying. They continued to smile as they stood there, ready to 'help'.

Papa?" A young brunette woman called, pushing against the tall wooden doors to the castle. She held his hat in her hand, the other fisted over her cloak clasp. This whole day hadn't gone as planned... "Goodbye, Papa! Good luck!" "Goodbye! And take care while I'm gone," she'd watched as he drove down the road and out of sight, then retreated indoors. An hour's worth of dusting, twenty minutes to cut up vegetables, and five minutes to mix it into a stew; and then she could settle in with her newest book, the one the book seller had given her yesterday. Not an hour later, there had been a knock on the door, and then he'd shown up - wanting to engage her in talk of marriage and a family, dogs and a hearthfire. No, thank you. She deserved better than him... he didn't deserve her. That wasn't what she'd told him though, oh no. And after she'd tossed his boots out after him, she leaned against the door, her hand over her eyes. How could she get rid of him? The minutes ticked by, and finally she felt it would be safe to go outdoors, feed the animals. "Is he gone?" She asked the chickens, who merely looked at her inquisitively. "The nerve of him! He asked me to marry him!" And she ranted to the goats, the pig, the chickens, knowing they wouldn't pass judgement. Chores done, she wandered out to their back field to watch the sun set. That was when she heard the frantic whinny. "Phillippe! What... where's Papa? Oh, we have to find him. You've got to take me to him." And hurriedly, she unhitched him from the cart, and climbed up onto her horse's back. That was how she found herself at this spooky old castle in the woods, complete with creaky gate and gargoyles. "Papa? Where are you? Hello?" Slowly, she paced through the halls. "Is someone here?

The beast sat in his parlor, staring into the fire, an open book on his lap. The sound of her voice brought him out of his trance and he stood up quickly, turning, his cape swishing behind him. Carefully, he went to the door and peered out into the hallway as she passed by.

On a typically clear-skied sunny day, the deceptively young Shelke strolled down the sidewalk of Neo Midgar. As was her daily routine, she was currently heading to Tifa's Bar to help with various things. It was her little way to repay the others for all that they had done for her. Still, she remained somewhat anti-social, but had begun to slowly open up. Mostly, to Tifa, whom Shelke had come to view as something of an older sister, due to the death of her real sister. As she walked, she made the decision to take a little shortcut to cut down on how long it would take her to reach the bar. This path cut through one of the bad parts of town, but Shelke had never had any trouble there before. Little did she know, today would not be her lucky day.

Seth was sitting on the roof of a building in the slums. Seth was quite the creature. He had cells from Vincent, which made him unstable in itself, and being injected with Jenova cells didn't help. He was a walking abomination. He wore long black and red-trimmed pants, with a black shirt under a black trench coat. The trench coat had red lining. His hair was black with red streaks down it, and was long, and tied behind his head out of his crystal blue eyes. "Shelke," he said to himself. "She's pretty close to Vincent... He jumped down in front of her, grabbed her by the neck, and started to pick her up.

It must have been a day or maybe more since he has been in this cell. The ground was concrete, the walls were stone, and it was deadly cold. It was a miracle he hadn't died yet or at least hadn't gotten sick, but then again Light could handle a lot of things; he was a strong male for his age. He was lying down on the cold floor with his hands shackled behind his back. He couldn't escape the cell anyway, so he had no idea why this person took the extra mile. It made it even harder for him to move around and it was very uncomfortable to sleep. He was wearing plain clothes that the one who kidnapped him put on his body. It was just a simple black shirt and loose pants, no shoes, no socks, no belt, and yes, not even underwear, which made the coldness even more unbearable. At least the one who bought him could have put on warmer clothes, but that just proved to him that the person didn't care and that he didn't know what to expect. Light Yagami was 17 and a senior in high school, but he was a very unique and rare individual. He was an honor student who was considered to be one of Japan's best and brightest. He had everything - looks, talent, skill. God had graced him with so many things it wasn't funny. His hair was short, thick, and a copper brown color with bangs that hung just above his eyes and framed around the top and sides of his head perfectly. His eyes were dark brown and seemed to glow beautifully in certain lighting. His body was lean, straight, nicely toned, and slightly muscular. He stood tall at 5'8" and weighed 119 pounds. And of course, his face had a chiseled yet angelic frame giving him more of an irresistible look along with the many other things he had. Light tried to replay everything. First, he was kidnapped, then he was sold to someone, but who, and why hasn't this person shown themselves yet? Were they just going to leave him to rot in a cell? No, there had to be a reason for him to be brought here, but he didn't really want the answer to that question. He sighed and leaned his head back against the stone wall. What was going to happen to him now? He was trapped and there was no way of escaping.

The click-click of her heels was loud on the stone floor and she grimaced in annoyance. It was also rather cold in the prison and her flesh held goosebumps, but she didn't even feel it. Her nose twitched at the dank smell that covered the place as if something had died, rotted, and then molded over. A hand reached out to her from behind cell bars and she swatted at it with her crop. A broken cry spilled out from the lost creature as blood began to fall. She sneered at it in disgust and licked the blood from her whip. Her facial features were harsh and cruel, but still somehow beautiful in its exotic look. Large dark eyes, small nose, large lips. Her black hair was cropped in a bobcat, short in the back and longer as it fell forward around her face, adding to the harshness of her features. Her skin was a soft smooth creamy ivory color that offset the darkness in her eyes. She was petite, lithe, and although small, she exuded power. Standing at 5'8, she wore six inch high heels, making her five foot two without the added height of the heels. Her legs led up to a round and firm ass that was made for caressing, if one would risk getting their hands chopped off for a feel. Her waist was curvy and belly flat. It lead up to perfectly mounded breasts that fit perfectly into a man's palm, but overrode her own. What was most wickedly about her though, was her walk. She walked like she owned the world and if you got into her way, you'd be taken out. When she got to the cell of her newest pet, she looked down at him with a look between interest and disgust. She squatted down so that she would be of height after him and inspected his body quickly with her eyes. Moving her hand between the bars, she flicked out her whip and caught him under the chin, holding it there and moving it side to side so she could take in his features. Removing it, she stood up and looked at the guard. He held something up to her and she took it from his hand, throwing it into the cage. "Put your collar on," she said, "You're my dog now." Her voice was cold, as harsh and as beautiful as her features. "I'm known as Mistress Delila.

About five miles from Tokyo city is an old abandoned factory, at least some say its abandoned. But in reality it isn't, in fact, the building is very well used. The building was owned by slave traders, though its all kept secret and only a small amount of people know about it. Those people were the masters and mistresses, the ones who come in search for a new slave if they got bored with the last one or it died. Everyone of them knew that this building held the best of the best for slaves. The slave traders took a lot of time in finding the rare boys and girls, and once they saw a target they did any means necessary to catch it. The traders had recently gotten very lucky in finding a new slave. The last one they kidnapped was a male named Light Yagami. He was 17 years old and a senior in high school. When standing straight he was 5'8" and weighed 119 pounds. His hair was a copper brown color and it was thick, soft with the bangs hanging just above his dark brown eyes. He had a chiseled yet angelic face giving him an irresistible look along with his body which was perfectly toned, lean, and slightly muscular. And boy was he a hard one to catch, they tried coning him into following but he refused. So then they tried force, one ended up getting punched in the face. After a long bloody struggle they used chloroform and knocked him right out and took him with them to be sold. Even though it was difficult this catch was worth it, they knew he would be sold for a very big price with his looks. Light was lying down, face-first, on a metal bench inside his cell. He was among hundreds of other slaves, some new like him, some already sold before. There were cells connected to each other with bars blocking the view of others, but there were also cells across from each other leading a narrow path to walk through and look left and right at all the slaves. Light was placed in one of the farthest cells with other slaves around his age. A girl was in a cell on his right, another boy on his left, and another girl across from his cell. Some of the other slaves looked at him, but he couldn't respond for he was still unconscious. He was dressed in the same clothes he had on when they kidnapped him - a white buttoned-up shirt, brown slacks, black boots, and a coat that had been taken off along with his tie. The slave traders walked through the cells with water and bread, enough to keep the slaves alive, but not much more. One of them threw a bucket of water on Light, soaking him completely. Without warning, the male threw the loaf of bread at Light, then left the scene. Light shouted and jumped up from surprise, eyes wide, glaring at the male who grinned and said, "The masters and mistresses are coming today... You can bet you will be chosen." Light narrowed his eyes, wondering where he was. "Screw you," he demanded. "Where the hell am I?" The male just laughed and threw the loaf of bread at Light before leaving. Light looked at the bread that was thrown at him but didn't care. How was he to know it wasn't drugged or something? Why else would everyone but him be so calm and out of it? With a sigh, Light sat back down on the bench, putting his hand to his forehead. This was not good; he was going to be sold like a pet, and he didn't know what lay ahead now. Just the thought scared him slightly, but he wasn't going to show it. He shook his head, trying to get the water out of his ears. "Damn it... What now?" he mumbled as he laid back down on the bench and looked up at the cold stone walls.

The tall, partially masculine male stepped out of his limo, walking to the doors of the warehouse. He was one of the frequent visitors to this Slave House, and also one of the most hated by many people. He always came back with a 'broken' slave, or one that was unsatisfying to him or his friends. He grabbed the unconscious male from his vehicle, his arms bound behind him and him half-naked. He grabbed the slave by the hair and dragged him across the ground, the doors opening for him and he tossed the property to the ground in front of him. "He couldn't take it!" The Master complained, and the lead Slave Driver came up, picking the slave up to examine him. "Well, if you didn't always use such brutal tactics!" The Driver complained. He then dropped the slave and thumbed for him to be put up. "Must you be so cruel?" The Driver asked with a sadistic grin on his face. "Would you have me any other way?" The Master questioned with a chuckle and grin. "Tell me, what new shipment have you all gotten?" The Master asked. "Oh, you will love our new merchandise," The Driver said. "Come right this way, Sir Golna." The Driver stated, waving a hand and walking off. Sir Golna looked at each slave they passed, liking a lot of what he saw. "Remember, you return one slave, you get one back for free. Any more than that-" "I know, I pay for. Do you think I don't have the money?" Sir Golna questioned. "Just stating Sir," The Driver said in his own defense. "I've been here how many times and you still tell me that." The Master said. "My apologies Sir," The Driver stated. He then continued to walk down the walkway, telling about this slave and that. This all continued until they came up to the one, Light Yagami. Sir Golna stopped and looked into the cage, examining him. "OH! You have a like to this one do you sir?" The Driver asked. "He was a feisty one indeed. One of our Guards has a black eye because of him." The Driver informed. Sir Golna smirked and got closer. "What's your name, boy?" Sir Golna asked, looking at the male. Sir Golna was dressed with only a pair of black jeans, a black belt with silver studs making two rows around it. He had no shirt on, showing off his toned body with a six pack that people would think was an eight pack. He had his arms crossed over his chest now, his red hair hanging down past his shoulders, just above his nipples, wrapped behind his ears. He had a piercing in his right ear, with a sierra topaz in it, about the size of half of one's pink nail, and in his left ear was a bar going through the top of his ear and reaching down to the bottom, resting on the top of his ear in the middle and behind it at either end. He had on a pair of black boots, looking to be made for a gothic type person.

Sora let out a heavy sigh as he pushed open the giant doors leading into Traverse Town. Donald, Goofy, and himself had just defeated Clayton and his heartless in the Deep Jungle, and the boy was absolutely exhausted, as were his companions. It seemed that ever since he first met the two rather strange characters they had been doing nothing but fight endless waves of heartless on different worlds - from Wonderland to the Coliseum to the Deep Jungle it had been nothing but just him slashing his keyblade at any shadow that caught his eye. As much as he wanted to though, he knew he couldn't sleep, not until he found Riku and Kairi and knew both of them were safe. The brunette told Donald and Goofy to go get them a room at the hotel and that he would meet them there later; he wanted to explore a bit, like he did on Destiny Islands. A few minutes later and Sora found himself on top of the Gizmo Shop, where the bell tower was. From here he could see the entire Second District, from the hotel to the various shops. Traverse Town was truly unlike anything he had ever seen on Destiny Islands, which was more of a relaxed environment where people interacted with each other frequently while this place seemed to be as dead as dirt - no one walked the streets. The boy sighed as he fell back onto the roof, putting his hands behind his head as he lay down, listening to the slight breeze in the air. It reminded him of home, Riku, Kairi, and the beach. It made Sora even more homesick than he already was. He closed his eyes, wishing that he would see at least one of his friends soon enough.

Riku walked away after talking with Maleficent for a little bit. He shook his head at her nonsense. Nonsense that seemed to make a little sense for some reason. He sighed, looking up at the dark sky, silver hair falling away from bright green eyes. Maleficent had said that Sora was here, but that couldn't be, right? He sighed a little bit, shoving his hands into his pockets as he explored the area. Was Sora really here? And how did he get here? When he climbed the ladder up to the top of the Gizmo Shop, he blinked when he spotted the familiar brunette lying back. No way. He silently climbed up and cocked his head to the side. "Sora?" he asked, kind of hoping he was mistaken and kind of not.

Fifteen thousand and five hundred dollars for a herd of Rapidashes - not bad," Chason grinned, patting the heavy suitcase that was propped on the cushioned seat next to him. Even though he planned out the strategy himself, it was his Pokeboys who did most of the dirty work and carried out his scheme. Then again, they were his willing vessels, ready to do anything he wished of them - they were the reason he made a living. While the other Rockets kept loads of Pokeboys to increase the number of their party, he preferred to keep two and focus his attention on them so that they'd be at an advantage in the face of outraging numbers. It was also his efforts that brought them to where they were; Kaiden and Damien. He picked up his fork, then stabbed at the strawberry in his served fruit bowl, gesturing for the boys sitting opposite of him to finish eating, too. He treated them to a meal after every paycheck, and since he was in a relatively good mood today, he was up for taming them both, too - at the same time. He rarely spent quality time with his Pokeboys, just because he simply had no time. But when he did fit it into his hectic schedule to occasionally express his gratitude, he did it effectively. The Rocket member loosened his tie and sat back on his chair, hanging one arm over the backboard of the other seat adjacent to him. "Eat up all you want, boys," he kindly offered, taking a swig of the can of beer he was served. Even though he filled up nearly half of his stomach with alcohol, he wasn't so lenient with letting his beloved boys drink any, mainly for health conditions he was fully conscious of. And beer most likely guaranteed a better fuck. He had a lot more stamina, and he would need it when fucking two. Chason popped a grape into his mouth, glancing out of the PokeCenter's window at the darkening sky. It looked like they would need to room here for the night. They were wanderers most of the time, but they had enough money to let them roost an entire week here if they wanted. Kaiden, the more reserved of the two, warily glanced at their tamer becoming more and more drunk by the passing second. He didn't mind it at all, and knew very well of what rewards that'd bring later in the night. They so deserved a good fuck! The Houndoom morph ran his gloved fingers through his pitch black hair, fingering the rusty brown highlights that were streaked there in some areas. With his teeth, he tugged off of his gloves, then cautiously brought up, "We are being tamed tonight, right? Dinner doesn't settle it at all." He uneasily glanced around at the colorful Pokeboys sitting around them at different tables, looking just disgustingly adorable in their own fashion. They sort of stood out amongst the Pikachus, Azurills, Swablus, and Vulpixes, really. With a sigh, the Houndoom lifted himself off of his seat next to Damien, then rounded the table, plopping down comfortably on Chason's lap. The tamer was quick to wrap his arms around his Houndoom's back, even going as far to poke his fingers underneath the other's waistband. They kissed, and Chason drew away first, leaning forward to plant a peck on the middle of his Pokeboy's chest. "Mmm, of course. There's nothing you two deserve more than a good fuck- I'll cum in both of your asses this time," he promised, ignoring the strange looks they received from the other customers.

Damien was helping himself to most of the food provided to him, alternating between showing his hands in the large claws and simply picking up the food with the pincers on his wrists. The redheaded pokeboy had played a big role in aiding his master in capturing all those pokemon; the Red Blitz wasn't called that for no reason, he was easily able to incapacitate them himself. The pokeboy sat close to his master, pressed up against him really, the black cloth that normally covered his face down so he could feast on the various berries that were his favorite food, preferring the strawberries. He occasionally made a show by aiding his master, lifting an item of food to his lips. The boy only drank a little but quickly demolished the strawberries, his attention sliding around the room, all the people looking at them, or just going about their business, he could really care less, unlike Kaiden, who seemed to care what others thought about him. Damien found it amusing, all the colorful and well-groomed pokeboys all around, barely trained and probably badly tamed, Damien however had his wild hair and dark eyes. He looked completely out of place in the Pokmon Center, along with his comrade Houndoom. Damien gave a glance to the side as the Houndoom climbed up in his master's lap, his master promptly wrapping his arms around the other. Damien looked up, a jealous flare in his eyes. He was well known amongst the rockets for his temper, though he felt that even the Houndoom deserved his turn. Still, the Scizor let out a low growl when their clearly intoxicated master showed the Houndoom a lot of attention. Damien turned his head towards the two, his sharp eyes alighting on them when their master admitted that he would be fucking both of them that night. Damien smiled. It was likely that by the end of the night he would have a lot of cum in him, he knew the Houndoom probably would help, maybe even gang up on Damien - being double-teamed by both his master and his comrade was his favorite sexual activity. Damien waited a moment before he moved, pressing into his master's side and pressing on the charm. "Master," he said, "when do we get to fuck?" He was a lot less inhibited than Kaiden, and proved it by leaning in to kiss Kaiden full on the lips. "I am in the mood." Damien smiled seductively, pecking his master on the cheek. His actions were primarily to embarrass the more reserved pokeboy. Damien made his effort to get into his master's lap, pressing into Kaiden as well - a gesture of affection from the fiery pokeboy. The fiery haired pokeboy smiled at Kaiden. He was a horny one, and they would both be being fucked - maybe even Kaiden would have a turn with Damien, or even get to have him.

Yuugao had been captured earlier that day. While she had been relaxing for the first time since Hayate's death. Now she was in a holding cell for the Akatsuki, her off-duty clothes a crumpled mess mostly. She had worn a soft black silk button-up shirt, which was pretty much open to just below her breasts. This, of course, made her black lace bra quite obvious, and her breasts not something she would have liked. Obsidian eyes flashed with anger as her purple hair fell around her. She tried to hide herself this way, but it really wasn't all that effective. She wore a skirt for the first time in a long time, but it was practically rolled up to her hips now. That was from rough handling, and her majorly struggling. Now it was quite obvious there was a nice pair of black silk panties beneath the black skirt. Black, she liked black; it was neutral and safe. The faintest hint of lace was seen at the outer edge of the panties. Her sandals had been lost a while ago, and her headband was tied to her upper arm. Captured, she muttered.

Deidara walked up to the little prison cell she was kept in. He wore his standard Akatsuki clouded robes. He smiled at her. "Enjoying your stay so far, hm?" He asked, and then grinned at her, his blonde hair being brushed out of his eyes by his hand. He looked down on her. "I'm sure you know by now why you're here, right?" He asked, and then used a sealing jutsu to close and lock the jail cell after walking inside. He sat down beside her.

Morgan jerked awake in mid-scream, her gray eyes shooting open as she took in the now familiar design of her room at Xavier's mansion. Sitting up, she sighed and checked the alarm clock by her bedside. "2 am," she murmured, turning on the bedside lamp. "Fucking great." Shaking her head, she slipped her long legs off the edge of the bed. Another sleepless night in the hell that had become her life since her return from England. Two weeks ago, she'd been back away from Dante and his group, the lot that made Magneto look like a freaking pussycat. In those two weeks, her dreams had been haunted by his face as he threatened to get revenge on her. She knew it was starting to show, the professor had even offered to read her mind. Of course she denied it, last thing she needed was him sending a team out there to handle something that she started in the first place. Pulling on a small robe, she grabbed her uniform and headed to the bathroom that everyone on this floor shared. Maybe some training would help; stripping off her pajamas, she turned the water on high and let the water wash away her nightmare. Rolling her shoulders, she slipped the black leather uniform on and headed to the danger room. At this hour, no one but Wolverine was ever up, or so she thought he was the only one still awake.

In the danger room, the faint sound of clinking metal was made apparent. He always had a smoke after training. The dark also calmed him down. His red eyes scanned the dark room, as he sat in the middle of it. He groaned softly and he sat back against the wall, he looked around him. Silence. Darkness. Just the way he liked it. Another puff of his cigarette and he was sailing, his mind was calm, his body was calm. Overall, he was calm. The clink of the metal door surprised him. It was two o'clock, and there was someone coming in to train. . . something didn't seem right. He waited for the person to show themselves. A charged card, ready for whoever this person was. The room reeked of cigarette smoke and sweat, and the lights had not turned on yet. The card sat in his hands idly. He would be ready to fight if needed. . . As soon as he saw her face, due to the light in the hall, he smirked and the card lost its charge. He put the card away and turned his attention to the woman who was there now. "Can't sleep?" The Cajun's voice echoed throughout the room. His accent apparent. . .

Taking a deep breath in her hiding spot in the woods just outside their camp, Sakura watched the small band of renegade ninjas for a while before hopping out of the tree she was in and casually strolling into camp. This was an infiltration mission, so stealth wasn't a key. Instead, she had to get their trust and have them believe she had betrayed Konoha and was now a renegade like them. This was her first time doing such a mission, so she was certainly nervous, but managed to not show any outward signs of it.

One of the renegades spotted her as he warned the others. The group approached her slowly, looking her over. "What is a fine... young shinobi out here doing? Not to mention a Konoha village shinobi to be exact?" one of them asked her. Soon enough, the others surrounded her. "You better hope you want to join us," he continued. "We don't take kindly to anyone else. But if you want to join, there's a test you have to take first." He grinned at her, waiting for a response.

Hinata had gone through her normal morning routine and it was now afternoon time for her to train. Eventually, she went for a walk and spotted Naruto training. She was in a tree and leaned against one of the branches quietly as she watched him train. He had only been back for a few weeks. She had just recently turned 15 and it was cold outside. It was January, and there was no snow on the ground at the moment. Her birthday had been a month earlier. Hinata had not noticed anyone watching her, but she made sure to hide her presence from Naruto. Of course, this did not mean that she took no precautions to hide herself from anyone else in the area. The area was rather secluded, so chances of anyone being around were slim. Hinata wore a simple pair of pants with a black tank top, which was covered by a white jacket. Her lavender eyes watched Naruto intently, while her blackish-blue hair blew in the wind.

Smirking as he sat on a treebranch above her, he licked his lips. Goddamn... Every day since he's been back, she's been up to this same old routine. She needed to learn. Silently falling from the top of the tree downwards, his chakra cushioned his landing so no noise was made. He snuck behind the blue-haired girl. "Hinata-sama!" He whispered harshly into her ear as his hands grabbed her wrists and held them behind her back, making her palms fall just to his crotch. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" He pulled her closer so she could see his white eyes. Neji's plan of rape was just beginning.

Hiashi had been thinking about this for weeks now....the Hyuuga clan in its current state had no suitable heir. Hinata was too weak, Hanabi was too wild, growing more rebellious with every passing day, and Neji....Neji was a member of the branch family....there was no way he could take over the clan when Hiashi stepped down. And so he had been left with only one choice....he needed a son to take over from him, but the son needed to be strong, needed to be a pure Hyuuga, someone who would embody everything the Hyuuga clan stood for. And such a child could only come from the union of two Hyuuga of strong blood, which again had left Hiashi with only one choice. The only one suitable to be the mother of his child would be one of his own daughters, someone of his own strong blood. Hanabi was still too young, but Hinata had recently turned 15, entering the prime of her life. Plenty of time to birth a child then move on with her own life, leaving the child in Hiashi's care. Of course he knew there was no guarantee that Hinata would give him a son the first time, and so he may need to sire multiple children with her until he got what he wanted, but so be it. He was prepared for that eventuality. And so those plans brought him to tonight. Neji was away on a mission, Hanabi was staying with friends, as usual, and so Hiashi had summoned Hinata to his private quarters in the Hyuuga estate. She had no idea what he had in store for her, but he would at least inform her of what was going to happen. Though informing her wasn't the same as giving her a choice. This was going to happen whether she wanted it to or not. It was for the good of the clan, and the sake of the clan took priority over everything, even the fact that they were father and daughter. Hiashi had prepared some tea, and was sat waiting in his private sitting room, waiting for Hinata to come as he had ordered. He knew she would come...and once she entered the doors would be sealed behind her. There was to be no escape until Hiashi decided as such.

Hinata had no idea why her father summoned her to his private quarters. It was late at night and she was in her nightgown and a simple fuzzy robe covering that. She had been awakened by another member of the Hyuuga family. Of course, she had no idea why she was being summoned there. She did not know of her father's plans to form a child with her. Truth be told, if she were to get pregnant by her own father, she would most likely not move on nor would she want to leave the child in his care. "Father?" she said, knocking on his door before yawning softly. "Um...I am coming in," she said quietly as she slowly opened the door and walked into her father's room. Eventually, she made her way over to him and stared at him quietly. "Why have you summoned me here? In the middle of the night? Could it have waited until morning?" she yawned quietly.

Damn party ditched me!" A girl groaned as she kicked the Gott Statue chest open. Vraay's normally cute face was twisted in a growl. She was in a blue uniform resembling a Russian military uniform, and a matching beret. A small yellow ribbon on her neck was the only clothing really providing any contrast. "At least I got here," she grumbled, seeing the message show up revealing her prize: a pair of lowbie blades, one for a Twin Blade, one for a Blade Brandier. And five health potions. "Oh come on!" She rolled her eyes and turned around, just wanting to get out of the temple and take the next warp back to town. Maybe find a competent party.

Having a bad day?" came the sultry voice of the infamous PKer Bordeaux, leaning up against the wall right inside the beast temple, next to the only exit. Of course, Bordeaux was up to her old tricks again. Preying on those weaker than her and PKing for the sheer pleasure of it. As usual, she didn't just PK them outright. Bordeaux preferred to... play with her targets a bit first, before she PKed them. Eyeing her target as she girl stood down the walkway leading to the Beast Statue, Bordeaux licked her lips slightly, the anticipation of the coming kill starting to excite her.

He was surprised that Sasuke didn't show much of a reaction when he branded him. Then again, Itachi was pretty stoic in the sense that he was numb altogether. Pain didn't affect him anymore, and it might have been some hereditary trait that Sasuke inherited to have him so immune to feeling that horrible sting. Or maybe he did feel it as harshly as normal people, but kept himself from crying out or squirming to preserve his pride. For his skill of endurance, Itachi felt the need to reward his little brother, but at the same time, he didn't want to let him go off the hook so easily. But he was, after all, his brother. If he was his actual lover or a person who wasn't connected by special blood to him, he wouldn't have hesitated to make his life a living hell. But, unfortunately, he needed to show mercy in this case. Sasuke was branded and pierced, and Itachi already destroyed his state of thought by also shattering Sasuke's hardened carapace. Sasuke was undoubtedly a submissive when around him, and it showed so obviously in scenarios such as this. His otoutou already suffered with a physical and mental beating today, and Itachi hoped that he learned his lesson enough for him to remember it in the future. Itachi carefully undid the leather accessory that was sloppily tied around his neck, using little to no effort to hoist the younger boy in his arms. Just like when he was merely in his pre-teen years tending after a small child, Itachi carried him over towards the master bedroom and gingerly laid him down on the lavish sheets. To Sasuke's sore joints, the goose-feathers would almost seem like clouds underneath his weary body. Now that his little brother endured his consequences, it was time for a bit of rewarding on his end. After all, Itachi was sort of bi-polar. When he was furious and frustrated, he couldn't see anything but red. But once his anger evaporated, he was able to act like a protective normal older sibling. The only excuse for his slightly odd personality was that of stress, probably. But who really cared when Sasuke seemed to like both sides equally ? "Have you learned something today, Sasuke?" he asked rather calmly, scooping a bit of cooling cream from a small container. He dabbed the white substance on the browning marks, smearing it around the scar to rid of the searing after-pain. The piercing couldn't be helped. But in a few minutes, it wouldn't hurt so much. All he could do was disinfect it with alcohol, and Itachi did just that, using a gauze to expertly clean his punctured nipple. The teenager felt satisfied upon seeing his brother literally marked with his sick idea of ownership sealing. He left his naked as he ran his entire body over to search for any of the nasty signs that the old man left behind on his little encounter with his brother. There were several bruises and scratches, and Itachi's throat rumbled with a low growl when he came across each consecutive wound, muttering something incoherent about the bastard leaving his demented markings on his property ... "If you've learned your lesson, I want you to sleep. I also don't want for you to stay here. After what happened today, it's caused me to change my mind about keeping you in this neighborhood." he murmured, brushing a stray strand of the other's hair away from his forehead to reveal his extremely handsome face. "Don't care if you stay with Naruto or Kakashi. I just want you to get the hell out of here. ... I shouldn't have brought you along." And was Itachi actually apologizing? In the end, he did feel sorry for Sasuke. He now realized that the kid's intentions were good. The bastard was actually persuasive in a sense, so it made sense for his little brother to fall for that dirty scheme. He wasn't there to rescue him in time, and he'd been so blind to the other's helpless little pleas to come and save him. He felt so ashamed. He ran his fingertips over the light marks that showed on Sasuke's pale body, flinching and wincing at each one he came across. They weren't his doing, and that's what made him even more angrier. "I'm ... sorry, Sasuke ... I couldn't save you from that bastard. Left you there all alone with him. Came too late ... Your nii-san was too deaf to hear you screaming," he whispered, planting a kiss to the other's forehead. He switched off the lamp.

Sasuke's pain had been so spread out, through the piercings and the first branding mark. Perhaps he'd numbed himself mentally, and gone somewhere else for the time being. It seemed more than likely that he just hadn't been paying attention, or he didn't have the energy to jump like he had before. Probably because he knew what was coming, and had prepared himself for it. At times like these, the boy really wondered what his brother did things like this for. Itachi was so damn... He was unpredictable. That, and he knew just how to break Sasuke down. The pain didn't affect him so much, but those horrid torments that Itachi threw at him made the boy feel absolutely horrible. He couldn't even begin to explain it. Having the person that you looked up to you constantly pushing you down. Sometimes, however, Sasuke liked it. It challenged him. But now, Itachi wasn't challenging him. Itachi was fucking him over. Both literally and metaphorically. The boy let out a small sigh when his older brother picked him up, but didn't do more than that. He tensed at first in Itachi's arms, but after only a few seconds relaxed. He could feel a cooler aura emanating from his brother. Things wouldn't be so bad... Although, Sasuke still thought he had himself in for a brutal possessive fucking. To his pleasent surprise, Itachi did nothing of the sort, instead set his younger brother onto the bed carefully, and tended to Sasuke's wounds. His dark blue eyes looked up at Itachi's red ones. Sometimes he wondered why his older brother put those in... Intimidation? It seemed likely. Sasuke liked them though, so it didn't matter. "Yes Nii-san," the boy murmured, shifting slightly on the bed. Oh the sheets were so wonderfully soft, and the bed itself was completely relaxing. There was no better place that he could have been after such harsh treatment. Oh it felt wonderful to have that cooling liquid on his burn marks, but the alcohol stung him, and he let out a small gasp. A deep frown was pulled across his face when he heard what Itachi had to say. No. He didn't want to leave somewhere else.. But honestly, this wasn't the best time to argue with his brother. "When will you come get me? Or when will I be able to get back here? When can I see you?" It was cute, how concerned he was about all of this. About how curious and horrible upset he was about wanting to know when he would be able to see his older brother again. The fact it was posed in the form of an apology only made Sasuke feel even more horrible. His brother never apologized. It was obvious that he was making some effort to smooth things over before they'd be seperated. This was probably the most surprising thing that he'd heard in a long time. Sasuke's eyes widened a little, and he swallowed. "Nii-san..." That simple call of the other's name was filled with everything. It was telling Itachi that he was sorry himself, that he accepted the apology. "No... It's not your fault. I'm stupid." When his older brother turned off the lamp, Sasuke instantly moved closer to Itachi. "I don't want to leave. I want to stay right here..." He nuzzled against his older brother's cheek, kissing his lips lightly.

Drake, a new trainer, sat down at a campsite he had just made. Drinking the water he brought, he looked around. "I really need help," he said, deciding to head out of the campsite to look for his own Pokgirl. Well, that's what he was told they were. "Now to find me a Pokgirl," he said, walking around the woods only armed with a Poke Ball designed to catch the Pokgirls. He didn't know what could or would attack or how they seemed. This was a wild Pokgirl, not the tamed ones already caught. Drake groaned as it was getting rather close to night. The sun just setting and the woods growing dark. "Shit! Which way did I come from?" he asked himself, looking around the woods. He had completely forgotten his path.

Aside from Drake wandering the woods, little did he know there was a Pokgirl walking around as well, and not too far from him. A Mawile morph slowly made her way through, and she appeared to be rather lost herself, and a bit exhausted. "Need food...," she grumbled. She paused as she noticed that there was someone nearby. Must be a trainer! Ha! I can get my food now!, she thought, carefully approaching the trainer from behind and watching him carefully. And luckily, he looks rather lost himself. Perfect!, she thought, suddenly leaping at him from behind and trying to nab his bag. Her giant second maw had moved around to meet him face to face, fangs bared as if to bite him.

While Rinoa would never have admitted this to anyone, she was no stranger to... well, sexy dreams. The sheer amount of sexual tension that had been building up among her friends while they journeyed to save the world was nothing short of astounding-- but she'd always been the odd one out when it came to the SeeDs, and she wasn't -really- surprised when she found out who Squall's heart really belonged to. She didn't blame him, really; the other woman had been there when she couldn't be, and that went a long way to settling those questions. No, she was no stranger to those sorts dreams. But they had never been so... vivid. So extensive. And so... well, so thorough. As she started to wake, shifting slightly as she curled out from the fetal position, one of the first things she became aware of was the lingering dampness between her legs. The second thing she became aware of was that she was unusually sore-- sore in ways that she hadn't felt since the war against Ultimecia, ways that usually had to be mended with healing magic. And then there was the crisp seawater tang in the air, reminding her of the time she'd spent at Fisherman's Horizon some months back-- Wait. She hadn't been near the sea for weeks now. Why was she smelling the ocean? A shock of fear rose up her spine, waking her fully, but Rinoa gulped her fear down, trying to stay calm for a bit longer and took in her surroundings. She was in a ratty hotel room-- the sort that the Forest Owls had moved between so long ago when the only concern in her world was freeing Timber. She was still dressed in her traveling clothes, though they were wrinkled and a little stinky. She had no idea how she'd gotten here, and she had no idea who had put her here, and... oh, she hoped this wasn't why she had had so many dreams... Instinctively, she closed her eyes and let her heart search out for the Guardian Forces that had come with her, willing them to Junction with her and arm her... but there was nothing. Siren and Carbuncle's presences just weren't there. The cold knot in her stomach tightened, threatening to send her into a panic, but just as she started to give in she felt... something else. Another Guardian Force, but... older. Stronger. Primeval. Just the sensation of it in the back of her head was enough to send a chill up her spine, and this unknown force was with her, bound to her, or maybe she to it. Well, whatever it was, it was the only clue she had. Rinoa took a deep breath and reached out to the presence lurking within her, calling it forth to the material world...

One might wonder, what is it like to live as a Guardian Force? What do they do while they're not being summoned and protecting those they were junctioned to? Do they have little houses somewhere, with little bookcases where they keep their reading materials? The answer, like one would suspect, is no. Guardian forces are simply creatures who exist in the minds of those they are junctioned to. And as such, when they aren't in the material world, they wander in the minds of their hosts. They see their memories, their past, and sometimes they even stumble across hidden desires or other deep-rooted psyches. He is a guardian force. One who existed long before others. He came from a time when names weren't needed, and ever since that time, he did what he was supposed to do. He guarded. He was the sentinel who pushed back the darkness encroaching on the land of men. Now people would tell him that he is a guardian force, yet in those times, people would tell him he is a guardian god. He took pride in such claims, yet he knows he isn't a god. He is one who wields strength, and would often use it to protect, yet he is no saint either. He has fallen to desire and worldly lust, just like the humans he protects, but he never considered it to be a bad thing. He flits from one part of her memory, those of her childhood, of innocent times, to a time where a golden-haired man would take her in bed. The guardian scoffed at the man's puny effort to please her. He is simply a mere man, and could not compare to the ways the guardian ravaged her. Just as he enjoyed watching her memories of the endless nights she rode him, a mental ping appeared. Apparently the girl in question is summoning him, and he obeyed. His form, naked save for the loincloth and the ceremonial armbands around his powerful arms, materialized before her. His hair, long and wild, like an untamed forest, smells just like the leaves of a woodland grove. Landing softly on the bed, he knelt in front of her, face mere inches away from hers. His canines are long and flawless white. "Another round?" He asked with his deep growling voice.

The young girl's eyes traveled up and she let out a soft sigh, sitting at her kitchen table after hanging up her phone. She had not visited her grandmother for a while now and she wanted her to come over. Pushing her chair back, she stood up and grabbed her keys as she stepped out of her house. She lived in the woods, so she could drive to them but not through them. A small path led to it, and she sighed as she reached the path about ten minutes later. Kate was her name; she was in her early twenties, standing tall at 5'8", with light golden-brown hair and deep blue eyes. Her skin was lightly tanned, and she wore a white tank top with a pair of blue jeans and sandals, with a light red jacket that she held close to her body, pulling the hood up. Parking and stepping out, she locked her car and pushed her keys into her pocket. Moving around the front, she stepped onto the dirt path and pushed her hands into her pockets, though it was a nice day to walk. Sun was out, there were no clouds, and she could see some deer and hear the birds chirping. Maybe it was good that she walked.

A dark streak moved through the woods rushing past trees and jumping over logs. The wolf was on a mission after having his last potential mate stolen from him just before entering her. It was mating season and this wolf's first one; he was young and his blood was hot, and he had found a willing female to mate with, but just before he mounted her, another male wolf had shown up, and the two had fought. Finally, this young black wolf had been chased off to the sounds of the female enjoying her mating with the other wolf. He was still hard from that experience and truth be told, he didn't care what type of female he found, as long as it had the right parts, he would take it and hard. It was then that he noticed the scent of a woman in the air. He rushed toward the inviting scent and stopped just far enough away that she wouldn't hear his approach as he crept closer.

Trancending time, a tale of soul and sword eternally told. Soul Edge, and Soul Calibur, two legendary swords that had been the object of desire for warriors all over the world, are now gone. Sealed away for eternity by the hands of a man who was once the most feared being in the world. Siegfried Schtauffen, known as Nightmare, the so-called 'Azure Knight' who spread terror across Europe with the blade Soul Edge in his hands. His heroic act of self sacrifice in the quest to destroy Soul Edge has earned him royal pardon from Hildegard Von Krone, the heir to the Kingdom of Wolfkrone, and he is now a free man, able to walk the world without being chased around like a villain. Siegfried fell into wanderlust, as well as a different, more enjoyable kind of lust, and traveled the world, enjoying the days of peace he now has, and fucking the brains out of the women who once chased him and tried to kill him. It's funny how each and every one of them seemed to fall head over heels for the young man. Perhaps it's his good looks or his chiseled physique. Or perhaps it's his incredibly well endowed manhood or his near-human sexual prowess. Whatever the reason, they were hooked. Despite knowing the effect he had on women, Siegfried never thought that they would actually come seek him out. Especially not the one in the bathroom right now, changing her clothes. He was glad though, she was one of his favorite fuck, and in appreciation of her appearance in his castle, the long-haired man plans on rewarding her. Today he won't fuck her; he will make love to her. His silk sleeping robe did little to hide his impressive physique, as he sat on the bed, sipping red wine. "Come now. Don't keep me waiting, my dear." He called out to her.

Hilde heard him call out to her. She felt the heat rise to her cheeks and she continued to take off her clothes, a little more quickly now. She removed her helmet from her head, her long, straight red hair falling out. She continued and took off the rest of her armor and the tunic she wore underneath. What she was left in was somewhat juxtaposed with what she wore over the top of it. She was left standing in a black lace bra and matching thong. She wore a black and white silk corset. The silk fabric had red flowers on it and on the front had ribbons criss-crossing over, with a bow at the top which he would have to undo. Along with that she wore a pair of black panties. She walked out of the bathroom and over to him. The mere sight of him like that turning her on a little. She stood in front of him and looked at him, a light blush on her face. Hilde didn't know what it was, but ever since the day she had given him the pardon, she always wanted to please him, whether it be sexual or not, okay mostly sexual. It was a strange desire, since she was a princess, she was used to being waited on hand and foot, but with him, their roles seemed reversed.

The tower's appearance had given the young woman no reassurances. She was afraid the devils would succeed, but as she had stood amongst the tower's pillars to watch the sons of Sparda fight in the rain, she knew there was a semblance of hope. Dante, the one called, would stand up to his own brother to ensure the demons did not cross and inhabit the human realm. Aya, too, would fight the demons to ensure their demise. A priestess of sorts is what she called herself, a maiden of all trades. For this adventure, she kept to herself, only thinking of interferring if the devil Dante could no vanquish his twin back to the depths of Hell. However, Dante succeeded and soon, the tower was gone and the way of life went back to normal. The devil had settled back into the way of running his shop with his egotistical flair that intrigued her. Aya owed him thanks, she knew, but she was not supposed to reveal herself to anyone unless the situation demanded that it be done. The young woman's dark eyes peered silently at the sign "Devil May Cry"; Dante's shop. Her black hair fluttered around her face on the breeze as she contemplated her next course of action. She couldn't let him go on without at least her silent thank you, so she reached out a pale hand to open the door to the shop. Her long, leather miniskirt clad legs carried her on boots into the building. A black blouse hung on her curves, unbuttoned enough to give her considerably sexy cleavage. Matching black eyes would then sweep the interior as the door shut, seeking out the devil simply known as Dante.

Dante looked up at the woman entering his shop and grinned. "If you're looking for a toilet, it's in the back," he said nonchalantly as he sat back with his boots on the desk, staring at his blade. "But I doubt that's why you're here, so tell me why is a pretty lady like you doing in my humble shop?" he asked, looking up at her and noticing her appealing figure, letting out a soft whistle.

The energy that had been released from the Soul Edge sat dormant for too long. The energy that had once corrupted such beings as the one known as Nightmare, was far from being destroyed. In fact, the thing known as Nightmare was working tirelessly for the Soul Edge, or the energy from it. It was finally time, enough of the shards had been gathered for the being to do its work. As Nightmare left, a eerie green glow engulfed the shards and they started to float in the air. As Nightmare turned around, the shards emitted a bright glow, and when the glow subsided, what remained formed into an exact copy of what looked like Nightmare formed in its place. The being slowly stood up and stretched its limbs. It cracked its neck then looked at the real Nightmare, who was still standing in shock. In a quick flash, the real Nightmare charged the copy and swung at it with his huge sword. The sword chopped through the copy and the copy remained unphased. With a smile, the copy turned one of its arms into goo and grasped Nightmare around the neck and stretched it across the dimly lit room, slamming Nightmare into the wall. It muttered something, then changed into a different man, Maxi. Having fought a select group, it knew what people looked like. It retracted its arm, leaving Nightmare crumpled on the ground. It walked toward the sun, looking for a certain person, Ivy. She would be his first victim...

Never too far from Nightmare in her eternal pursuit of the Soul Edge, Ivy was in a nearby town, still resting in an inn. Her armor, which was only a few scraps of cloth in all honesty, lay across the room from her, along with her blade. She was taking a few moments from her quest to let off some steam and relax, reading a long, leather-bound book while she lay in repose upon her bed, entirely naked without fear of anyone coming in. It wasn't like there were very many opportunities for the owner, or other guests at an inn, to barge into someone else's room, after all.

Jabba the Hutt's throne room was the most miserable place Princess Leia had ever been. It was made entirely of stone, and therefore was cold. Jabba, of course, couldn't feel the cold because of his immense girth, but Leia was near to freezing. The room was teeming with activity, soldiers guarding every entrance to the room, all on guard and ready to attack Luke if they needed to. It had come down to the final battle, and Luke needed to be exterminated. Leia sat on a bed of grey and purple pillows at the feet of Jabba. Her dark brown hair was plaited into one very long braid, not allowing her to hide behind her hair. She wore a golden bikini that barely covered her breasts and her bottom. There was a long red sash hanging from the front and back of the bottom of the bikini, but it did nothing to conceal her, its purpose was only to arouse those around her even more. She wore a gold bracelet around both of her arms, one on her upper right and the other her lower left. She wore a golden collar around her neck, the connected chain held by Jabba himself. Though it didn't look it, the collar was tight around her, so that if she moved even an inch away it would choke her. Leia's skin was pale and smooth. Her arms, neck, torso, and legs were all exposed. Her skin prickled in the cold, and she was glad of the golden bikini top to hide her nipples, which had hardened only because of the temperature. Every curve of muscle in her body could be seen, only what was absolutely necessary was covered - and even that would not remain covered long if all went according to plan. It was time. Luke was going to have his final battle with the fierce rancor. The rancor was ten feet tall, enormous and disgusting. Its chest was heaving and it was slobbering too. Luke gripped his light saber tightly and looked up at the horrible beast. He took a swing and hit it, but the beast was barely phased. The rancor stormed forward and lifted Luke up and threw him across the room at the stone wall. He hit it hard and slid down to the floor. Leia's eyes grew wide and she sat up straighter, her eyes glued to her brother. If Luke lost this battle, everything would be over for her. Luke could not lose. But it looked as if he would. The rancor continued to beat on him, Luke barely got a swing in between poundings. Jabba was laughing at Luke, weak and pitiful. The soldiers were inching forward, eager to jump in if need be, but the rancor had everything more than under control. The rancor picked up Luke one last time and held him over its head for a moment before throwing him down to the floor. Everyone in the room could hear Luke's bones crunch. A few ragged breaths could be heard but in an instant, Luke was dead. Leia screamed when she saw that Luke had died. She tried to stand up and run to him, but she fell back and was choked by the collar. Jabba laughed louder, tugging the leash and pulling her back closer to him. "No, no!" she screamed, pulling forward as hard as she could, choking herself until her face turned purple. She collapsed on the pillows, her arms still outstretched to Luke. "No! No," she gasped, her chest heaving to regain oxygen. Tears filled her eyes; everything was over for her now. She was a slave, a sex slave. She sobbed, covering her face with her hands. After a few moments she raised her head and saw that she was surrounded. All of the soldiers had encircled her, Jabba behind her. Jabba was still booming with laughter, he tugged the leash again, forcing her head to jerk back and look at the soldiers in front of her. They were all smirking at her, their eyes lustful and their skin hot with desire. They wanted only one thing: to destroy her innocence and satiate their needs. Her eyes grew even wider and the color in her face drained. "No, no?" she whimpered, her bottom lip trembling. "No, no" she scrambled up from the floor, drawing her legs up close to her. She'd been able to evade them before, but now there was no one to save her from Jabba's wishes and the soldier's urges.

The wide, expansive room boomed with laughter, laughter that resounded on walls of stone inside the desert cave on Tatooine. The main chamber of Jabba's Palace teemed with men, women and indistinguishable creatures alike, easily a dozen different species represented within the walls, and each of them dangerous, exotically alluring, or both. And all of them heeled to one master, their laughter resounding in part because they truly took amusement in what was before them, and in part because of a fear of offending Lord Hutt otherwise. The creature's short temper was near as infamous as he, and showing anything but the utmost approval of the provided entertainment was the end of the story of too many men. The large hutt could not clap, and his language was known by few, but the look he gave and the excited gestures he showed were echoed in the amusement of all. The Jedi had been slain, his bones crushed, and now the sound of the rancor enjoying his earned meal could be heard through the iron grating below. Bones snapped and sinew ripped, and those whose cheering began to subside only then took notice of the human girl, the once-princess who was now a toy of their lord, struggling and screaming and nearly causing herself to pass out in the process. Some of the guards, perhaps, noticed a bit before anyone else, the large, green pig-like men huddling around Leia on all sides. There were five of them that surrounded her, laughing to themselves in high-pitched squeals, drool dripping from the sharp-toothed lips of one and falling upon the perfect, porcelain-like skin of Leia's bosom, dripping down like a disgusting slime into the right cup of her gilded bra. They stood around her, spears in hand, laughter in the air until it was Jabba who spoke, and it was all who ceased. His words traveled through three different translators until one finally spoke in Leia's language, a golden-hued robot she had come to know well. "Oh... oh dear. P-Princess Leia -- that is, Miss Leia Organa I should probably only refer to you as now, I suppose -- his lordship Jabba would care for you to entertain the crowd. Specifically, he has requested that you join several of the other slaves and lead them in a dance. Oh, and I do hope you please him, Miss Leia! From what I can tell Lord Hutt does not seem the type to possess a great deal of patience. ...What? Yes R2, poor Master Luke, I agree, but be silent!" As the command was translated to numerous other languages the excited men surrounding Leia instantly backed off. Some merely stepped back, returning to their positions against the wall, spear in hand, while one of them approached Jabba himself to obtain the key for Leia's collar. It was with a simple snap that the device opened from around her throat, and by the time she was free the room had fallen to a deafening silence. All quieted. All looked upon her, including her new master. She was expected to perform, and she was expected to perform now -- or else.

Twilight Town, a marvelous city where the night rules eternal. The Nobody had been here once, but had left not before leaving casualties. Roxas, the once-proud Keyblader and Guardian for good if you will, fought valiantly as possible for one mere boy, but his fight was futile in the end. The Nobodies found a way of mutating; one of these mutated Nobodies had bitten Roxas. The resulting bite created a hybrid half-Nobody, half-human. The once-proud warrior Roxas now stood as tall as ever, still looking like a human, yet he looked like a Nobody with the same black features, although he had fur. Roxas has hidden himself away in a mansion overlooking Twilight Town, never going out. The only contact with the outside world he has is what he sees of Twilight Town through his window. The last time he had been out of his new home was the day he had mutated. The townsfolk had treated him like an outcast, throwing rocks at him, telling him to leave town, calling him a monster. Roxas, what was left of him, the misformed boy who appears like a beast, looks through the window at the town of Twilight. The presence of the Nobodies is around again, their dark energies, which only someone who is similar to them would feel, stinging his eyes. Although he appears like a monster, no, a beast, he still has his human emotions. He longs to feel loved, but knows it will never happen.

Yuffie, a simple girl, had been shopping for her father in the tram district. As usual, the petite, but beautiful young girl had been stopped by Siefer, the town's local bully, who was handsome, but another thug. When Yuffie refused his advances, he had ripped the book she was reading from her hands and thrown her to the ground. The girl had landed in the mud, her simple dress stained and ruined. She slunk back home, holding the bag of groceries for her father tight to her small chest. "Father, I'm home," she said, "and I got the..." Her mouth dropped as she saw the door ajar, her father's horse taken, and his ancient shield off the wall, an heirloom he had told Yuffie never to touch.

A deep sigh echoed from a young man as he walked through the rain-poured roads. The road was muddy as hell, which was no surprise; it had been raining for hours at least. He had to walk from an outlying village that was not part of the normal towns. He wanted to become a Pokmon trainer, so he had no choice but to go through these hardships. No one in his village had any Pokmon that could fight or anything; they were all pets, and he was not about to catch a basic Pokmon as his first. That went against his pride, as a man! He would get a good Pokmon from the professor if it killed him! Then again, he did not have the right to ask for such a thing... Yet another deep sigh escaped his lips as he walked along the path. It wasn't until he looked ahead and saw something poking out of the muddy road. He was unsure what it was, so he moved closer, with caution though. It was a figure of someone, and there were slight traces of white stuff on its backside. Hovering over it, he wiped the mud where a face would be off. Only to find this figure to be a living breathing human! He freaked to say the least, confused on what to do. He quickly realized she was nude and in the rain! For who knows how long she had been there! He quickly took off his backpack and strapped it to his front side. He closed his umbrella and quickly put it in the bag. Taking off his coat, he placed it on the girls back. Taking a deep breath, he lifted her onto his back piggyback style. "You're going to be alright, you hear me!?" he yelled to her, starting to run through the mud. He had no idea why he was doing this. It was his instincts, telling him to react, act, help her. He ran as fast as he could for nearly fifteen minutes, feeling as though it were a race against time. Arriving at the professors gate, he struggled to lift his arm from carrying her and ring the door bell but managed to summon the power. "Professor...Help..." he said before everything went black. He could feel himself landing face first into the mud, though. It wasn't till two hours later that he jolted up from the couch he was resting on and the first thought that went through his mind was the girl. "The girl!" he repeated, looking around frantically. This wasn't the outside in the rain; he was inside. "Glad your awake," a voice of an old man came from down the hall. The two talked and he explained what he had found - she had been raped and left for dead. For some reason, this annoyed him greatly. "Is she going to be alright?" he asked the professor, with an odd sense of honesty coming from his question. He seemed worried and agitated. "She's going to be fine, Alvion," the professor replied, assuring him she would be. He was curious why he had brought a nude, brutally raped girl to his doorstep. He suspected that Alvion had done it and felt bad, returning to get her and bringing her here to save her. "None really," Alvion stated proudly, not lying. The two men continued to talk, keeping their voices down, not to wake the girl in the other room.

Junko walked next to her Pokmon; she loved the little rascal, who always seemed happy when around her. She needed to take a break, so she decided to eat something and give her Pokmon something to eat as well. She looked at the sky as her Pokmon ate, but then she noticed someone was nearby. She looked back and couldn't believe her eyesit was the Pokmon Champion, Lance. All she could say before he grabbed his Pok Ball and summoned a Charizard was "L Lance." Junko stood up and looked at them, unsure of what they were doing. With a quick word, though, she was on the floor. Her Pokmon tried to defend her, but they fell after one hit. Without saying anything, he took out his cock and pushed it deep inside her ass. Her screams became apparent, but nobody came near. He had to shut her up, so he placed a tape gag over her mouth. After raping her, he left with her stuff. She woke up screaming, dreaming all of what had happened to her. She looked around and saw that she was on a bed. She placed her head back into the pillow as she looked around for her Pokmon. "K Kiro? You are there?" No answer. She was now starting to get worried. She couldn't believe Kiro didn't answer. After a lot of calling, she started crying. She was sure Kiro wasn't there. Where could he be? She sighed as her tears overflowed her. Not because she had been raped, but because she lost her most precious friend.

Tsunade sat at her desk. Naruto was growing to be a handful - the 13-year-old (or was he 14?) was turning into a miniature hermit. "Send him in right away," she ordered. How would she reach him when so many had failed? Even the legendary cop cat ninja had not been able to get him to straighten out and fly right. For one thing, that damn sexy jutsu had to go; it made the entire village a laughingstock. "I can see you, Naruto," she scolded the youth, throwing a handful of kunai in the ninja's suspected direction for good measure.

Hey, let go!" Naruto yelled at the two shinobi who were dragging him into her room. Standing up on his own, he looked at Tsunade. "Ah!" he exclaimed, moving out of the way of the kunai. "What do you want, Granny?" he growled, clenching his hands as he pulled out one of the kunai from the floor.

You actually expect me to stay overnight at some supposed haunted town for only a hundred and fifty bucks?" Aimee Jade James mumbled, looking from the television set to Kelly, her best friend. They were college students, halfway through their sophomore year. Aimee Jade was nineteen, Kelly was twenty. They became best friends the second they came to this school, having been put in the same dorm room in freshman year. At first they hated each other, but by the end of first semester they had already planned to room together for the rest of their college experience. At the moment, they were lounging in their dorm room, 409. Two other people were in the room; Kelly's boyfriend Sean was sitting on Kelly's lap not really paying attention to anything but the television. Matthew, one of Sean's best friends, was sitting on the floor leaning against Aimee Jade's bed, his glance shifting from each person in the room to the television as well. On the television was a news report of Silent Hill. Another child, approximately ten years old, went missing. These missing child reports were starting to get overbearing. There was never any hint as to where they went. It was like they had disappeared into thin air. This is what gave the town of Silent Hill its reputation; thehauntedtown. Of course, to each their own beliefs and, quite frankly, Aimee Jade didn't believe in any of it, even though the town began to plague her dreams. In fact, the other day while sitting in class she had some sort of flashback to a fiery pit in Silent Hill and she had to excuse herself from a test just to calm down. It was as if she'd been to Silent Hill before, and it was calling for her to come back. But that wasn't possible! She could remember almost her whole life perfectly, there was nothing to connect her to Silent Hill?right? But then again, her mind was fuzzy when it came to her birth all the way up to when she was about five. Most people at least remember certain things from when they were that young. Sean cleared his throat, as if trying to get everybody's attention. "You don't think you're worth a hundred and fifty?" he said, looking at Matthew. "Well, not to Matt you're not. You're worth billions." Sean laughed as Matthew grabbed a small stuffed plush that had fallen from Aimee Jade's bed and threw it at the boy, grunting. "Yo, shut up man. I'm not, like, in love with her," he rolled his eyes and slunk down a bit. It was obvious that both Aimee Jade and Matthew had some feelings towards each other that they had been dancing around ever since they met. "Hey, how about this; Each of us give you like two hundred if you spend the night there?" Kelly practically interrupted him. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! If that's the case, she's getting six hundred! I think it should be two hundred a night. If you're willing to spend this Friday, Saturday, and Sunday in Silent Hill, alone, then you'll get six hundred big ones." Aimee Jade just rolled her eyes. "Fine, whatever. I get to waste a nice weekend in some ghost town. But at least I get a good amount of cash out of it." She chuckled. "Maybe once I come back alive, you guys will finally realize that Silent Hill is just an empty town, nothing more." So that was it. For $600, Aimee Jade was going to spend the weekend in Silent Hill. Thinking nothing but money would come of it, Aimee Jade prepared for a boring weekend. She'd need a flashlight, her iPod, her cell phone, and of course some food. Throwing the contents, along with a small throw blanket, into a bag, she got ready to go and squeezed into Sean's small car as he drove the four of them to Silent Hill. It was a long drive, about six hours, and for over half of that time each person took their turn in trying to scare Aimee Jade. "You'll die," they'd go on saying, but Aimee Jade didn't back down. It wasn't that they were scared for Aimee Jade's life, it was that they didn't want to have to give her so much money! Finally arriving in Silent Hill, Matthew, Sean, and Kelly dropped Aimee Jade off. "We'll be back here early Monday morning at around six to pick you up so you don't miss any of your classes. If you need anything, just give us a call. But remember, if you bail out, you're not getting any money!" Each of them took the time to give Aimee Jade a hug, and then they left, leaving Aimee Jade alone in Silent Hill. The sun was high in the sky as Aimee Jade walked around. The backpack on her back seemed very heavy, and the long drive had worn her out. At this point, she wanted to find maybe a rundown motel or an empty house and set up camp for the weekend. She should be able to make herself at least somewhat comfortably for the duration of her stay. So when she finally stumbled upon a large hotel she went in and opened the heavy door, which in turn creaked back at her as if to warn her to stay away.

Please," cried the young boy as his voice was quickly overshadowed by the roaring crackling of the fire that ate at the building surrounding him. From the blazing red fire that danced behind him a dark shadow walked from out of the fire having no true shape or gender, but it was human...or was it? Slowly the shadow made its way behind the young boy taking its time before slowly reaching him and standing up straight. As the shadow moved behind the young boy he quickly turned to look at it before freezing in fear of it shaking from head to toe before eerily going still. "That's right," it whispered softly in a hissing sound that reminded one of a viper signaling the end for its prey. "Come back and join us, little girl in pink." It continued each word etching itself into her mind as it spoke. Slowly from the shadow moved a hand just out of sight, as it seemed to remain out of focus before slowly touching the young boy's shoulder as a loud screeching noise overpowered everything before throwing everything into silence. "Plea-se," whispered the young boy once again as he started to turn his head slowly. Blood dripped from the gaping hole which was once where his ear rested. "Don't leave me," he said, his words holding a deep and almost horrifying tone to them. "We are still friends," finally more of his face was revealed as blood poured from his empty eye sockets and mouth dripping onto the floor, which was now a pool an inch thick of his blood. Without warning he lashed out at her, his mouth open wide as he screamed out a yell so full of anger and pain that it sent chills down one's spine that would never go away. This was Aimee's dream... this was Aimee's never ending nightmare. It felt the door opening stirring around as the bright light of sun washed its way into the main lobby of the hotel, which still showed burn marks of the fire that had once brought the building down to the ground. Trying to drag itself to its feet it kept on falling onto the ground squirming around wildly before attempting to stand up once again. Its arms struggled under the skin that covered them; movement seemed to be the one that would break away the skin, but none of those movements ever did. While it moved it kept out of sight only appearing as a slight flash of darkness, like a cat that ran past the cover of her eyes.. But this was much more deadly. Turning to face her it slightly bent over before the are where it mouth should have been started to open wide as it attempted to scream. The skin that covered its mouth started to rip slightly showing the black darkness of its insides as black liquid dripped down its chest. A loud gunshot broke the silence as the bullet drove itself deep into the door only inches away from Aimee's head. Standing only a few feet away was the culprit as he held tightly onto a handgun his hands shaking wildly as he steered down at her. He stood at an unimpressive 5'1" really skinny no more then 120 lbs. His chest was covered with a bulletproof vest, which was stained with blood on the outside and claw marks that didn't coincided with any injury on the wearer. "Who?who?what..What are you??? the man screamed loudly as he trusted his handgun towards her obviously freaked out by something. Slowly walking towards her she was able to see that he wore a bright orange jump suit under the bulletproof vest with the words "Prisoner 19802" located on his left leg. "Fuck.. fuck that your bag.. Give it to me..?" he commanded her shoving the gun in her face as he stuck out his other hand before lunging forward and grabbing it braking the strap at he snatched it from her. "You.. Better not follow me.. You understand.. If I see you I will kill you got it?" he told her before shoving her with the gun once again. The thrust was that killing her would have been a waste of a bullet, and he knew that such a mistake couldn't be made in this hell. He started to move backwards as he kept eye contact with her before turning around and then running off. Turning into a dark alley way he was quickly out of sight taking her stuff with him as well. She was left without any of her equipment such as her iPod, cell phone, and flashlight standing in front of the charred remains of the hotel. From the area that the prisoner ran was a loud blood curtailing scream before a few shots ran out and then silence. Now she was left with a choice. Go into the hotel without a flashlight, iPod and other equipment, or go and check to see what happened that the robber by going down the long dark alley way.

Tsunade had to inspect all the ninjas; the last medical nin had proven to be an assassin, killing three promising ninjas before he was stopped. So she had to examine the girls and the boys - it wasn't a happy task. "Naruto, you get one and only one inspection," she said. He was only too happy to be first. She rolled her eyes; he was acting like she would take her clothes off as well - what a little pervert! No wonder he had chosen Jiraiya as his trainer; they were two cards from the same deck. "Okay, drop your pants." She was horny and seeing all these young boys and girls wasn't helping. She wanted to end for the day so she could take out Reliable Rolling Thunder and get off. She smiled as Naruto walked up and stood on the stool; he was still only at chest level. She crossed her arms over her chest.

Naruto entered the room with a giddy little smile on his face. He couldn't wait to show off his own cock for Granny. "Alright!" he said and quickly pulled his pants down to show her his growing cock. After starting puberty, the boy's penis had never stopped growing and was currently at 8 inches erect. However, since it wasn't hard, it looked thick and limp. "Am I looking good? Can I keep training?" he asked.

Dash sighed, tapping away at his keyboard. The sixteen-year-old was the restless type, easily bored. The lines of code before him flashed across his screen, and he huffed. His program was still unfinished. He brushed his flat blonde hair aside, preparing to type. The program was an eccentric one, but hopefully soon functional. He had learned intriguing tricks with this new coding language, some of which seemed impossible until he had tested them. The most secret of which he told no one about: the other realm. He'd discovered someplace...else. A visiting world, completely empty, to which he had no idea how it had gotten there or what its purpose was. He traveled there on rare occasion, as it provided some peace from louder days, and time didn't...pass as quickly. It was hard to describe, but sometimes he'd drift there without warning. This was proving to be one of those nights. Restless, he executed a program with functions he knew few others had seen, and before long, he was standing in an open field. Sure it seemed impossible, but it had become his nature to accept impossibilities and run with them. He reclined on the cool grass, relaxing, trying to concentrate on the innumerable things that crossed his mind that day...

Renamon didn't like humans; almost all of them were weak and lazy, needing far more food and rest than she did. "No, Frostmon," she swore. Sometimes that Digimon was as bad as any human. She moved slowly into the plains, tired of fighting other Digimon for the moment. She was a Maverick, a Pokmon who didn't have a home to call her own - not that she wanted one. "No, I won't let you see me again," she blushed. She hadn't even meant to let him see that to begin with. She could smell it - a human. Being a Maverick, she got into a lot of fights. She called it exploring the Digimon that she met, many calling it invasion, it ending in one of two ways: fucking or fighting. "What do you want, human?" she asked. A human would have said that she had a large chest, being tall when on all fours. He was old for a human, most humans barely past ten years old. She was much more. "You should know the Digimon here don't like humans," she warned, leaping to land next to him.

Being an Albhed, Seth's life had never been really easy. The only person he really had was Rikku, and sometimes he had met Yuna, their cousin, but he had almost forgotten about her or how she looked. Instead, all he had was his sister...and sometimes he hoped she thought of him the same way. In appearance, they were quite similar, although his hair was mainly the only thing different - his was a dark shade of brown, while the rest of him was soft-featured like his mother...well, what he could remember of her anyhow. Slowly, his eyes opened, a small sigh left him. It seemed Rikku had been getting more energetic recently and was spending less time with him. One could say the fifteen-year-old was getting a little jealous. And they would be rather accurate, but it wasn't something he admitted in a hurry. Now, for once, was one of the days he was certain he could spend with his sis, and what was more, he had awoken earlier than normal. This would make spending time with her a lot easier since he could wake her up and then start organizing the day. Slowly, he headed towards Rikku's bedroom before stopping just outside of it. "You up yet? Or will I have to assist you?" He was going to give her about five or six seconds at most to respond before barging in and attacking her with tickling hands. After all, she was the most ticklish person he knew, and it was the best way to awaken her. That Seth knew from experience.

Rikku was the younger sister by almost a full year her brother had just turned 15 and declared himself a man. "Go away It's too early" she had stayed up late drinking with the other men of the group. Even though she was a kid they had treated her like a girl in almost every way but sex and that was fine with her. She was dressed in coveralls only they did not cover as much as they should have. Her leg on the right was showing so was her left arm and her midriff it was easy to alter clothing. "Go away" she rolled over the room was not really a room but a small storage container that she had fitted out. She put a lock on her room when she started growing a chest, her brother among them. She did not know why he looked at her, they were both good-looking kids even people outside there group liked him. Sometimes she even put in a contact and went out with him crashing the expensive parties. "Go away I had a late night" she was lucky that as small as she was she never got a hangover.

Sayla Mass sighed as she finished another long day of work. She was proud to have made it this far to the top of the military hierarchy in the ship, but it meant a lot more work...and a lot more stress. Now she was just looking forward to a nice long hot soak in the ladies' bath area in the ship...and then a nice long sleep. She slowly made her way to the large bath area and entered the ladies' section (which had many guards on it, due to the amount of lecherous guys around) and undressed...she then slowly washed herself, rinsed, and then made her way to the soaking tubs to relax.

Frau Bow had enough of the child-like Amuro Ray, despite his ability in the mobile suit; he seemed unable to grasp the fact that she liked him. Taking off her towel, she wrapped it around her head, not even noticing the blonde. "Oh, it's you, Sayla," she said, shocked. The only thing that would have surprised her more would be seeing Amuro in there. Slowly, she slipped into the water, working up a lather before using her hand to wash her shoulders. It was good to have another girl in the room, even if it was Sayla.

Y-Yuna..." called out a deep, strong voice, belonging to none other than Kimahri Ronso, the current leader of the Ronso tribe in Gagazet as he lay on his back in his room. Though, he was far from alone. Straddling him and riding him like her life depended on it was surprisingly enough...ex-summoner Yuna. It had been a year since Sin was defeated and Tidus lost. In that time, Yuna sunk into a depression. While it happened slowly, the comfort Kimahri gave her blossomed into romantic feelings. And thus, the two eventually began a relationship, but kept it quite hush hush for obvious reasons. The only one who knew about it was Rikku, but that was purely by accident as she walked in on them once. Currently, his large, strong hands gripped her hips, pulling her down onto his large manhood in rhythm with her own bouncing and grinding. His eyes looked her up and down, lingering on her decent sized breasts bouncing sharply up to her face which had a look of pure ecstasy on it as she too moaned and called out for her ronso lover. It was a secret relationship, but not one lacking heat. Since they couldn't be together all the time for various reasons, they made the most of any time they did get....which was generally spent going at it like crazed bunnies. Being a Ronso, Kimahri was quite a spectacular lover. Capable of either being gentle, or giving her one hard humping. He also had quite alot of stamina, able to go for a while. While human and thus weaker than him physically....Yuna could easily match him.

Yuna had indeed fallen into a deep depression when the battle with Sin had ceased, and so had Tidus, the man she had found herself in love with. Through Kimahri's constant company and comfort, she was able to finally make it past that loss, though in the meantime, she hadn't immediately noticed that it wasn't gratitude she felt for him, but that she had grown feelings for her rosson companion. They'd started a rather secret relationship, save Rikku and her impeccable timing, spending long hours together intimately whenever they could manage it. This happened to be one of those times they'd managed to be alone. "Kimahri...," Yuna's gentle voice moaned out his name in response as he gripped her shapely hips and brought her down again on his rather large and impressive manhood. From this angle, it was driving deep and hitting that spot inside of her that gave her such immense pleasure. Her breasts bouncing each time she bounced upon his length. She couldn't hold back the moans, gladly giving them to him, knowing he enjoyed hearing her sounds of pleasure.

It all started with a sandwich and a dream... A sandwich made up of Avery's favorite deli meats and a dream of spending the evening watching a classic movie. The Last Unicorn. No, seriously, that's what the newest addition to the police force had planned for the evening. First, she wanted to wash the last few days out of her hair and the sweat from her brow and then sit down with her sandwich and watch the animated movie. She wanted this. She deserved it! ... and then the phone rang. For a moment, Avery refused to pick it up, instead, she stared at the headset and silently commanded it to be anything, but work. Let it be a telemarketing, someone wanting to sell her something or even her mother! Just don't. Let. It. Be. Work. Unfortunately, it was. They were short handed and besides, they had a special victim in their custody. Eh. Being an officer of the law in a small town was wonderful. Usually it was quiet, but lately strange things have been happening. Not spooky odd, just strange-strange. Like teenagers breaking out into a bawl at a football game. Not unheard of, but it was one of the first. Then there were some break-ins. A robbery here and there. Nothing to raise any eyebrows, right? Then this happened. Avery arrived in uniform and a slight scowl. Her dark eyes darting from face to face in the room. All men with the exception of Sam. Their receptionist of sorts. Moving to the other woman, she leaned forward to glance over her shoulder. "What's going on? You guys know I've been working my butt off lately and all I ask is for..." Sam quickly cut Avery off with a frown. Falling silent, she took a seat next to the dark haired woman. "We have a rape victim. And, uh, she doesn't want to talk to anyone else... just you." Sam's expression softened slightly. Rape, huh? It was unfortunate and shouldn't have happened. "How old?" The officer couldn't stop herself from asking. "Sixteen and she's scared," the receptionist said. "The doctors almost didn't let her go, but since she isn't all that hurt except for the obvious, we were able to bring her down here." It made sense. The police were supposed to serve and protect, right? If Avery was that age and something like that happened to her, she would want to be here too. With a sigh, she got up. "She's in room three." Waving off the receptionist, she moved past the group of men. No one really said anything. And she didn't bother to notice what expressions they were wearing. Just when was the last time they had a case like this? Surrey was supposed to be a sleepy little area where everyone knew your name. Things like this weren't supposed to happen. With a sigh, she opened the door and stepped in... then stopped. "Kathy?" It was the sheriff's own daughter. Pretty and blonde, she sat in a chair with her long, thin legs drawn up to her chest. "Oh god, I heard, but I didn't... I never would have... what happened?" Avery quickly crossed the room and took the young girl into her arms. She held her tight, allowing the young blonde to cry. Her hand lightly running through her silken hair. She was supposed to be the beauty of their own. The pride and joy of her father. Untouchable. And then this happened. Biting her lip, she held her tightly while the girl sobbed. "I, I don't know. It... oh god, Avery. It happened so fast and, and... I kept saying no, but they wouldn't stop," sobbed the girl. "They?" Frowning, Avery looked down at the child in her arms. "How many are they? And don't worry. We'll get to the bottom of this and they will pay. Your father will make sure." It went on from there. Avery gathering what little information she could get from the sobbing teen. When she finally left the room, she was met by Sheriff Breck. Shaking her head, she left him alone to talk to his own daughter. Maybe he could bring her comfort. Right now, she had a job to do. Walking down the hall, she made her way to her own desk. Just what was she suppose to do? This was supposed to be a cake walk. Sleepy town. The most she expected was a few domestic disputes, but not anything like this. Then another call came in. Something about a small riot broke out in the local watering hole. Two officers rushed off to take care of that. Avery frowned. Well, it looked like her sandwich and movie would have to wait. Things were about to get even more weird.

Rak'ator was pleased with the progress made in just the last few days. It hadn't been particularly difficult to manipulate his prey, but they were performing admirably in the snare he had designed for them. Already the most susceptible and weak had begun to exhibit advanced aggressive behavior, acting out against all constraints and posing a threat and challenge to the rest of the settlement. Humans were an interesting prey when properly equipped and motivated, but here he was more interested in assessing the potential of his prey. The settlement was isolated from its nearest neighbors, and the wilderness in the area was far from tamed by those living there. It was the perfect setting for his search, and even should he not find his quarry here, there were others that might serve his purposes. Now he was quite hopeful in how the humans here were responding. He crouched on the local water tower, overlooking the main drag, invisible against the foggy sky with his camouflage activated. The cool climate was well suited to his vision, allowing him to distinguish the humans in their activities as the poison he had released into their water supply took hold on their minds, suppressing inhibitions and encouraging them to act on their most violent and aggressive tendencies. The weakest had succumb first, and now the younger and stronger were beginning to react and those potentials most resistant to the toxin were being pitted against them. He watched as the riot at the bar turned ugly, with several of the patrons taking up knives and pool cues and broken bottles and the bartender removing his shotgun from the wall. Already several lay on the ground dead and bleeding, and out back a man had dragged a young woman out of the bar and was attempting to force himself on her. Rak'ator knew those who would try to maintain order would be forced to come down harshly on them.

The setting takes place on a beach, at Angel Groove beach, where everyone is swimming, playing beach ball volleyball and even surfing in the water on the waves that are in the water as well. A female girl with blonde hair, hazel eyes, 5'5, wearing a pink and white two-piece bikini bathing suit, and she was surfing on the waves as well as the other people were busy surfing. coolkittycatgirl14: Her name is Angel, and she is a pretty good surfer for a female. It's about 4pm in the afternoon on a nice summer afternoon out like today. She has heard a rumor about another ranger, that has been spotted in the rocky mountains near a cave of some kind and she wonders whom this ranger could be and she sighs. Angel surfs back into the shore of the beach, and she carries her surf board with her back to her beach towel. She stands her surf board up and she lays down on the beach towel and begins to sun bathe for bit to dry herself off, from the water that was on her bathing suit. Angel wonders if everything is ok at The Power Ranger Hideout and she hasn't heard from Zordon or Alpha for a bit. She wonders why it's so quiet around here, she hasn't seen any putties, or monsters that the enemy usually sends down here to stir up trouble with the Power Rangers and she sighed and continues on resting and relaxing.

A small car pulled up next to the shack on the beach. Tommy climbed out of it sensing a ranger nearby, he looked sharply around for anyone with that kind of authority. He noticed a girl lying in the sand, he walked over and looked at her. "Ah, finally a pretty face," he grinned.

The door to Alex's house opened suddenly, swinging back and hitting the wall as Alex stumbled in, holding several bags of groceries in his arms and a box that looked like a DVD case between his teeth. The reason the door had been opened so violently was not because he was particularly excited, but because he had used his foot to turn the knob and open it, thus creating a certain lack of control as he leaned forward and pushed. When one lived alone with nobody to get the door for them, one learned to be resourceful. He set down the bags in the kitchen, promising himself that he would put them away within the hour but knowing full well he wouldn't, and then made his way to the living room. The DVD box was in his hand now as opposed to his mouth, and further inspection would reveal that it was not a DVD box at all, but a video game, which he promptly took out of its case and put in his PS2. Alex was a writer by trade. He mostly wrote short stories for magazines and collections, but his second novel was due to be published soon. He had a while until that happened, so for now he could just relax and wait. This is where Final Fantasy XII came in. The cinematic of an odd-looking airship soaring through the clouds appeared on the screen and he started, curling up on the couch and beginning to enjoy Square Enix's latest in the line of RPGs. For a couple hours, things went more or less as expected. But then... (I didn't really know how to lead into what happens next, so I'll leave that up to you. ^^

The game played out normally... for a time. About a few hours in, it suddenly cut out, the screen going black as if it had been turned off, but strangely, the power light for the TV was still on. Just as sudden, the screen lit up white. It was bright... VERY bright, enough to fill the entire room and likely force the sole person there to cover their eyes. It lingered for a few minutes before it faded and all the lights in the house went off, making the place pitch black... and also bringing someone new in. The guy found that out soon enough when the shadowy figure pounced on him, forcing him to lie back on the couch as it sat on top of his waist, straddling him. "Who are you? Where am I?" demanded the shadowy figure. It was obviously a woman's voice, one with a very unique accent. Then suddenly, all the lights switched back on and the human was greeted with a very surprising sight. One of the characters from the game had somehow appeared in his house... a very attractive Viera named Fran, complete with her skimpy outfit and amazing body. In fact, now she was real, she looked even hotter.

The setting takes place in Phoenix where a girl named Angel was going to Forks City to stay with her Aunt and Uncle for the summer because her mother and her stepfather were going on a trip on the road for a while, so she thought it would be nice if she stayed with her Aunt and Uncle for a bit and she wondered if she'd make any new friends in Forks City or not. It was about 3pm in the afternoon on a nice summer day like today. Angel had her stuff all packed up and she let her mother and her stepfather take her to the airport so she could fly to Forks City where her Aunt would pick her up from the airport at 5pm in the evening. Angel wonders what Forks City would be like different from Phoenix and she was very excited about this trip. Her stepfather carried her things to the car and they all got into the car and her mother drove Angel to the airport so she wouldn't miss her flight to Forks city. They arrived at the airport and Angel carried her things to the luggage room and the people put her luggage onto the airplane. She showed her ticket and the co-pilot escorted her to her seat and she sat down in her seat on the airplane. The plane took off and flew up into the air. The plane landed at Forks City Airport right at 5pm and everyone got off the plane and grabbed their luggage and walked into the arrivals area. Angel saw her Aunt and her Aunt saw her and they hugged each other because they hadn't seen each other for two years. Her Aunt helped her with her luggage and put it in the trunk of her car. Angel got into her Aunt's car and her Aunt also got into the car as well. Her Aunt began to drive Angel to their place for supper and talk with her for a bit. They parked outside of the garage and opened their doors and then Angel's door and she walked into her Aunt and Uncle's place and it had changed a bit. She went upstairs to her room and put everything away in its right place. It was now 5:30 pm in the evening.

Kaname sat on his front step across the street, watching the new girl carry things into the house. His nostrils flared at the scent of her blood on the wind, hitting him hard. His fangs came into view as he thought, "Damn, she smells nice. I'll have to keep an eye on her.

Koyla sighed in desperation as he reclined even more languidly along the silken pillows of the lounge sofa. In truth, he had little to complain about, as exquisitely pampered as he was here in the vast obsidian citadel of his family, but this was what had the young demon prince in dire moods. With nothing to complain about, he was virtually without any other diversion here in the inner sanctum where he made his room, a spacious and regal abode of dark granite tile, black marble pillars, and suitably cushioned and fur-lined ebony furniture, as well as sunken areas of silk mats and soft pelts and furs where one could lounge and converse with several others. Assuming there were others to converse with, assuming they actually had anything worth his notice or time to converse about. He sighed again and turned over to lie on his stomach, gazing out at the empty room with his amber eyes, shining with not quite the intensity or fire of a true demon lord, and tucked back a lock of quill-like black hair behind the slightly less than regal horns that crested his temples. In truth, perhaps waiting was as meaningful a pastime as any for the young demon, as he still had much maturing to do. True, he was a fine physical specimen, standing at six feet three inches in height, his skin a color like shadowed ivory, with toned muscular limbs and a sculpted body, that would put an Olympic gymnast to shame, but he was far from the towering bastion of dark glory that a Demon Lord might be. His horns still had much growing to do, and his claws were sharp, but much closer to delicate than they were to wicked. His tail was not short, but neither did it look particularly strong and its scales still seemed a bit . . . fresh, and his wings, though fully functional in achieving flight, were barely four feet in their span. All these unpleasant but all too necessary deficiencies crossed through his mind as he leered dejectedly at nothing in particular, wondering if he might be able to fall from the sofa and hit his head in such a way as to put him into a coma for the next century or so while his physical form finished its development. Suddenly, the sensing of the presence of his Aunt Morrigan, roused him from his state and he sat up, looking expectantly for her arrival. He always enjoyed her visits to this part of the citadel, particularly when she had some present or gift for him.

It is good to be a succubus. Eternal youth? Otherworldly beauty? Power over both mortals and immortals alike? Access to the best, most powerful bedmates in the multiverse? All of it merely a part of their eternal existence. Yet why is it that Morrigan Aensland, supreme seductress of hell, and succubus queen, would have a frown on her perfectly shaped features? Simple, because just like mortals, she is not without a family. Yes, demons do have family members, just like mortals. And just like mortals, they deal with the same mundane troubles that all families go through. In this case, it's her cousins Juvenile (by demon standard of course) son, her nephew. Milenias ago, Morrigan met her cousin for the first time. He was a fine demon. Powerful, beautiful, but above all, well endowed. So much so, that the term hung like horses didn't fit the demon, but rather, horses are hung like him...Well, not exactly true, as he was much bigger than any horse. His philandering tendencies and warlike nature left him with no time to raise his child. "Stupid cousin," the queen grumbled in an un-regal manner. Koyla has come of age, and now it is time for him to start developing his demonic gifts. Since dear old dad isn't around for this, it falls to Morrigan to give the boy a lesson in infernal adulthood. Of course, since she's the one doing it, she thought it would be perfectly acceptable for her to decide how he would be taught. The door to Koyla's chamber opened, and like a vision of perfect beauty, the loving aunt walked into the room. Her white flowing satin dress made her look like a goddess indeed. Succubi have the ability to shapeshift at will, and right now, she appeared to him, in a perfectly human appearance, save the unearthly aura of lust swirling around her. "Koyla, dearest...Hows my favorite nephew..." She asked in voice cold as marble, and yet seductive like silk. Sitting next to him, her slender fingers caressed his chest, down to his abs. He does have his father's perfect body. "Auntie needs to talk to you about...business.

The setting takes place at Hogwarts School for Witches and Wizards, and everyone is in their fifth year. A female girl with blonde hair, hazel-green eyes, standing at five feet five inches tall, the same age as Draco Malfoy, sits with the rest of the Slytherin house. She was reading a book about how her parents met each other a long time ago and are now both 39 years old. Her name is Mindy, and she loves reading books about other witches and wizards. She is quite different from Draco, preferring to read rather than causing trouble between him and Harry Potter at any cost. Mindy finally closes her book after having been reading for a while and wonders what kind of trouble Draco Malfoy has gotten himself into this time. She also realizes that it's Saturday, which means that tonight is Hogwarts' Halloween Dance. She wonders whether Draco will ask her to the dance or not and sighs. It's about four o'clock in the late afternoon on a beautiful sunny day.

He walked through the hallways holding his books after getting a bit of an extra scolding from the professor. He sighed, heading for the Slytherin common room, wanting to relax for a while after losing some of his fire to mess with Potter. He motioned his two friends to follow him, pushing his way through the crowd as he entered the dome. His eyes looked her over before giving her a half-smile, half-sneer. He motioned his friends as he moved towards Mindy, leaning against a table. "Hi there, Mindy? Have you given any more thought to my offer to help me with the spell?" He gave her a cocky smile, brushing back his hair.

Amelia was a sweet loving girl who used to have lot of friends, until that summer party. She was with one of her friends walking to a party which was filled with beer and high school students, whom they would soon meet in school. She had had a little bit to drink, but enough to make her a little drunk. She had gone outside to get a little fresh air. The moon was fully shiny down on her, lighting up the night, when he came. Jack Evans was going into his last year of high school and he was standing in front of Amelia. One thing led to another and soon they found themselves kissing one another. Amelia had thought that she had gotten a boyfriend for her year of high school when that question popped up. "Do you want to do it?" he asked, not knowing what that meant so she just pushed it aside. She then felt him getting rough on her and she tried to say no, but he covered her mouth. Once he pulled his head away, Amelia tried to scream, but he covered her mouth. Soon she would find herself with her shirt up, shorts down, and had been raped. She went back into the party picking up the phone and called the cops. She couldn't say a word before someone snatched the phone from her hand and yelled out that it was the cops. Now everyone was panicking and her friend slapped her in the face. After that day, everyone hated her; her friends were now her ex-friends or she was their ex-friend, and the guy who raped her had tortured her through the days. She couldn't take it anymore. It was almost midnight and there was a new moon. Her computer screen showed a white page that said it couldn't find the web site that she was looking for. When all the hands pointed at 12:00 am, the screen blacked out and a flicker of flame appeared. She had gone to Hell Correspondence. Now the screen read, "We will take revenge, on your behalf." Amelia was about to type his name, but something was keeping her. Her breathing had started up and she had a lot on her mind. Until she saw his smile right after he raped her in her mind, she quickly typed his name and waited.

At first... there was nothing. It seemed as if it were all just a cruel practical joke. After all, of course no Hell Girl would come and save her from the terror her world had become... She turned around... and saw a young lady dressed in a Japanese schoolgirl uniform - mostly black, with her long luxurious dark hair. She was very lovely, and would even be described as beautiful were it not for her porcelain white skin and her large blood-red eyes staring right at her. She looked at Amelia for a moment, and then her right hand gently raised up... and handed her a small straw doll. And then she spoke. "Here... this doll is for you," she said. "If you truly wish to eliminate the person tormenting you, just pull the red string. This will seal our contract, and the person you hate will be immediately taken to Hell. However... there is a price." She waited for Amelia to show understanding before continuing. "When one person is cursed, two graves are dug. When you die, your soul will also go to Hell. Suffering for all eternity, never knowing what Paradise is like." She stopped for a moment... and Amelia was suddenly surrounded by zombies that came up from the ground and began to tear at her, trying to tear her limb from limb. Then... suddenly they were gone again. The girl continued. "But that... is only after you die." She then stepped back. "And now... the rest is up to you." She looked at Amelia and waited for a final response.