Thunder rumbled loudly as the dark sky was lit up with lightning. Mikoto stood perched on the high building. A hand extended up towards the heavens as crackling was heard above the loud thunder.
A burst of white emitted betwixt black clouds. One enormous claw made of electric currents popped out, followed by a second. Next was a head: large protruding horns on its head, followed by a long body. Wings hardly were visible but were present. The lightning dragon brightened the sky as tendrils flickered around its body. It hovered behind the Uchiha, its wings flapping lazily to keep it suspended in the air.
More thunder roared as distinctive lightning flashed throughout the storm. The beast gave a warning growl, sparks bubbling from its mouth. Its tail swished and crashed into a nearby building. Rubble fell onto the ground below.
Mickey stood still, arm raised still with a current surrounding her.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
“Not like t h a t ? What are we to you - a joke? After everything that happened to us and you still went against our word and got yourself hurt –”
Binary knew that know-it-all tone too well by now. It was Harvey, the big-shot District Attorney coming out to teach her a lesson - like a broken rib, getting drugged and tossed around like a ragdoll in the sewers hadn’t lectured her enough already. Her stoic glare had been staring them down as they paced over the floor to her den, the soft blue light from her monitors lighting them up like they were on a stage.
“--- We can’t believe you. The orders were clear as day, Binary. Don’t. Mess. With. Scarecrow.”
She’d seen better performances than this. And much more amusing ones too. She didn’t like it when shows included beating her like a dead horse where she was seated – the grip on the cigarette between her fingers trembling just enough to make the smoke dance back and forth in the air. Eye looking off far into the distance of the dark corners of her apartment but not quite focusing.
Lost.
“...Are you even listening to us?”
Her head snapped back when the twosome were back to getting in her face. Arms crossed, authority dripping all over her boss’s split visage. She didn’t let it scare her. She’d seen it all before.
“... -- Yeah, yeah. I know. Don’t go running around Scarecrow’s territory, blah blah. You said it like, what – Five times now?”
“Six to be precise. Which begs the question – Why? Why did you do it?”
…The hacker had a good answer to that - at least in her opinion it was. But trying to argue with Two-Face was pointless. He wouldn’t understand. Most people never did.
“Does it even matter? We both got our asses kicked. And if we keep acting like pathetic little wimps, sulking and crying about it – everyone’s going to start fucking us over. Is that what you want?”
Her stern and matter-of-fact voice caught both Harvey and Two-Face in an estranged stand-still. Falling quiet as they appeared to slowly back up before coming to a halt - sighing in frustration. Raising the white flag and calling it a day was obviously not something neither of them wanted. Not only was their reputation on thin ice, but Scarecrow had taken something precious to them. They needed it back.
“...--No-”
“I thought so. So I took the liberty of finally doing something about it – seeing as you’re on…a little bit of a hiatus choice-wise.”
It was clearly a little dig at her boss, but let’s be real. If he hadn’t had her there to steer up some kind of plan, then the both of them would just be sitting ducks, waiting things out. And that was time Binary couldn’t waste.
“Here’s my plan. We hit Scarecrow back where it really hurts,”
Where Binary would usually stand up and pace, she slid back closer to the desk in the office chair instead. Placing the cigarette in the ashtray next to the piles and piles of electronics that she had been messing about with right before Two-Face had come barging in.
“Without the toxin, he can’t do much else – right? He’s not some superhuman or a god, he’s just…a shitty human.”
Mumbling the last words, her eye focused back to the screen. Clicking up a window of a photograph containing the very same warehouse she had been scouting out when Scarecrow found her.
“From my understanding, Scarecrow keeps a bunch of these condemned warehouses as storage. If we can somehow get some of them - or even just one - to be demolished…”
It didn’t take long for Harvey to catch on. “...That means Scarecrow would have one less place to fetch his shit from.”
“...Right. So you’re going to pull some strings. You’re going to see what legal means we can use to get the city officials to do the dirty work for us. We will go unnoticed by the public – but those who know, they’ll know.”
“And most important - Scarecrow will know.”
“Bingo.”
Right away, Binary’s hands tapped rapidly on the keyboard. The pain pulsating in her rib didn’t even matter anymore – for now, she had another target to execute some revenge on. And judging by Harvey’s expression, they felt the same rush of collective schadenfreude.
“Gather what you can and have it sent over to us – We’ll get to work on our end. And Binary –”
Their signature dual-colored blazer was put back on before grabbing their trenchcoat - holding it wrapped around the good side of their arms as they stood in the doorway.
“...Yeah?” Her one eye met his two. A pause lingering between them until the ex-DA spoke again. His voice soft and sincere.
“...We’re sorry fo-”
“Don’t. It’s fine. Really. I get it - You were worried because you thought I had kicked the bucket or something. You don’t have to say you’re sorry.”
“But I want to.”
Silence, again.The adrenaline of their plan wearing off for a moment when they looked at each other with reasoning and understanding.
“...Fine. I accept your apology.”
Binary gave him only a shrug - but the second she turned her face away from his, a small smile appeared on her lips. Playing with her teeth on top of her bottom lip while she heard him leave - closing the door firmly behind him.
That's what they did. Always leaving words hanging, feelings in the air. One minute hot, the other cold. Up and down.
For all their love of war, few Daemons of Khorne relished the idea of marching against the forces of the Plaguelord. Of course, no one ever so much as breathed a complaint within the Axe-father's hearing, but the relief that settled over the Blood-Realm at the conclusion of the latest tiff was unmistakable.
The Greater Daemon Mhaa'tyr the Widowmaker itched his brass hide, his snout wrinkling in disgust at the mess crusted beneath his talons. Blood; his own blood. From a wound, but not one wrought by a blade. Rather, a cluster of Nurglish ticks, specially bred to plague his kind by the Fly Lord himself, had fastened themselves stubbornly to his skin, draining his essence. Weakening him.
His host had suffered similarly, the loathsome little insects finding their way beneath scale and mail both to irritate, inflame, and infect. Mhaa'tyr sneered as he regarded them, absently sticking his blood fingers into his mouth. Yes, they were smaller and would fare worse because of it, but no Khornate bore witness to weakness and failed to react accordingly. Mhaa'tyr had marched what remained of his army here for one reason and one reason only, the spent and winded force looking up into the black leaves of the blood bark trees expectantly.
Here and there, the vegetation would shift and ripple. The tip of a tail could be seen here, the joint of a wing there, and soon enough these resolved into shapes: beings. Scruffy, pinioned, furtive; the Chaos Furies of Khorne were as grateful for the end to this war as the Warriors of Khorne, but for a different reason.
With the careful movement of creatures accustomed to being unwanted, the Furies descended down the barks in pairs and trios. Some glided down, landing a few meters from a whichever warrior they had chosen, regarding them with avian interest. Regarding their unwelcome "guests" with unmistakable hunger. And as that hunger grew, caution shrank and the Murders of Khorne quickly crowded in on warrior and daemon, pecking and nipping away the blood-filled daemon-parasites before shying away, only to return.
With greater caution was the Daemon Warlord Mhaa'tyr approached. And only with his tacit permission was he engaged, touched, scaled, fed upon. Each tick ripped free was accompanied by a sharp stab of pain and a twitch of hide by the Bloodthirster steadfastly ignoring the happenings and choosing to sharpen his axe instead. He did not enjoy it. But he enjoyed being infested even less.
So he endured the feeling of Fury hands and Fury feet running up and down his body, he paid little mind whenever two of the winged imps warred over a particularly rich patch of parasites, and he spitefully ignored whenever a larger, more daring Fury decided a warrior was a better meal than his mites...
It had been a decision mulled over for months. It was hard to keep it a secret but Lilia was the first to find out, as Silver couldn’t keep anything from his father. After explaining, the older Diasomnia member agreed and sent the younger on his way.
Clad in the uniform representing the fairy the dorm is based on, the knight went in search of the older Arendelle Queen. It wasn’t too hard to find her. Elsa was by the well in the courtyard, deserted aside from various critters.
“Elsa.” Silver announced his presence. He gazed upon the blonde, who turned her attention onto him. There’s surprise before a smile fades it away.
“Silver.. hello,” she greeted quietly. Elsa stood up from her hunched over spot. She’d been thinking of a wish to send to the well, after much talk from a wishing well from Snow White. “You sought me out.. why?” She questioned as she peered over at her boyfriend. Hands clasped in front of her, she waited patiently for an answer. Faint snowflakes clouded her like a veil and sunlike caught the flakes, which only made the Queen more ethereal.
Silver paused. His heart raced. His palms grew sweaty. He soon found his voice. “I have.. a wish.” He answered though the tone betrayed the uncertainty. Before a question could be asked, he continued. He bowed his head first, then he bowed.
“I wish to serve as your knight, Queen Elsa.”
The Queen was taken aback at the request. She was silent a few moments, then she spoke. “What of your commitment to Malleus, Silver? You are sworn to protect him.”
Still bowed, he answered curtly. “Yes, but he still has Sebek at his side, along with fa- I mean, Lilia. Please, allow me to protect you.”
More silence greeted the knight until his ears picked up delicate footsteps. From his bent position, he caught sparkles, sun reflections from the frost and snowflakes that coated the Queen. It’s not until he felt something cold press against the top of his shoulder did he dare to lift his gaze.
And what he saw was a crystallised sword in Elsa’s hand, another demonstration of her ice powers. “On that account.. I accept your offer, Silver. My knight. Now rise.. please.”
She finds herself having to lie down after a particularly long shift that day. But mostly after having been inundated by the overwhelming amount of TVL commercialism present online, around every corner and billboard, and mentioned from the mouths of even several of her colleagues earlier on. Especially since more than several recent nighttime hospital admissions had been of various TVL concert and event goers who'd so graciously donated generous amounts their crimson life force for the fang flaunting, abdomen-baring, and leather pants wearing Greater Cause who'd managed to enthrall them all. Pallid, swooning fans who still mustered enough energy to eagerly text their "bffs and besties" and livestream from the ED on Instagram and TikTok of their experience with their lionized idol as they received their respective transfusions, images of his half-clad form plastered upon their phone screens.
Even if she were to close her eyes, she would still have His image engraved in her mind's eye from the sheer amount of times she'd been exposed to it that day, there would be no escape even in the realm of rest it seemed. Lovely.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
The Soul of the First Man was never supposed to be a fighter or a killer. His purpose in creation was to grow, first plants and animals, then humans. His family.
How far must one fall to reach the lows he has gotten himself into? Exterminations. Slaying Sinners, cleaving heads from shoulders and painting it all as a gift of final rest to those who didn’t deserve peace. The mask he wore would shield him from red blood yet he finds that with each year he could taste more and more of it. Such an iron, such a bitter and hopeless taste that rots his tongue. Maybe that’s why he opted to scream and yell, anything to project his voice, to get that poison out of his maw…
In the end, regardless of how much he participated in the fight, there was at least one thing to look forward to. The day after sporting a rather large party for him and the girls to indulge in. They too were infected with something far greater than judgment to be cast into Hell. A sickness that Heaven refuses to speak upon, such bloodthirsty warriors conditioned to feel nothing but rage as that was the greatest piety they could offer their lord above.
These parties, as hypocritical as they were, began to simmer down year after year. The music began to fade, the drinks piled up untouched and merely forgotten about and the mood for such a celebration dwindled to just embers as opposed to it being such a bright fire.
For the Exorcists, they had no one but themselves. Such radical war machines that prided their service to the Lord above in unconventional ways. However they weren’t immune to the snide eyes and standoffish tones of their peers. Being looked at as abominations created by a failed experiment. They weren’t seen as equals, merely barbarians that had no sense of self, no real moral authority and no place in Heaven.
For The First Man… the days after the exterminations, once the thrill of the highlife had finally began to mean nothing to him, thats when his conscious caught and spoke of reparations and deep wounding cuts.
Adam would always find himself alone those days after now, surrounded by broken furniture, glass and anything he could get his hands on. Of course in Heaven, nothing was truly broken, everything he was dead set on destroying would slowly put itself back together, to which he would break it again and again and again. Spite, anger, jealousy. How can Heaven put back together a simple chair but refuse to fix his own mind?
It was almost like a cruel joke. This place showing him that it can but it won’t.
Adam would repeat this as many times as his hands would allow, screaming, clutching items as hard as he could, throwing an item at the wall and when that neglected to show any signs of damage he would throw himself into it. A wave of fists doing their damndest to break this cage he was in.
Punch
Punch
Punch
Snap-
His chest heaved, slowly up and down, stopping his movements when looking at the minor crack of the wall he got. But that too would soon recover, an upward arch of a crack that seemed to smile at him until it disappeared completely leaving him with golden bloody knuckles that stained his robes.
That too would disappear as he’s seen many times before.
Even the sweat that dripped from his back and cooled his skin when pressed against the wall would eventually disappear and make the fabric perfect once more. Adam finds himself sliding down the wall until he ends up in a sitting position. When looking back to his home, all he saw was everything back to its rightful spot. Repaired, new, untouched.
There wasn’t any use, why even try. It was easier to give up, give in. Slowly his body would slump over, one of his large golden wings flopped loosely over his upper body and stayed there like a blanket.
Tomorrow will be the same day, get up, go to work, be reprimanded by Sera, piss off Lute, look through the files of new Sinners, look at atrocities committed by the very people he started, blame himself, be blamed for it all, be yelled at for killing and he would do it all with a lousy indifference as if nothing could hurt him.
But today, the one day after too many, Adam would let himself grieve. For himself, for his kin and for what could have been.
“It’s bitter,” Hubert replied after he took a sip of his coffee. A daily drink he consumes. It feels energy, it’s habitual. An eyebrow arched. “Perhaps you should broaden your horizons before you dislike mine.”
Sothis let out a disapproved hum. She had tried coffee in the past but it wasn’t to her liking, even adorned with cream and sugar. The smell was decent, at least. But the taste.. bitter indeed.
Hubert took another sip of his coffee. Before he had a chance to set the cup down Sothis was already half over the table that separated them, and captured his mouth in a kiss. She leaned back and gave another hum. She licked her lips.
The action had caught the Black Eagle off guard and he quickly set the cup down. Somehow he hadn’t spilled. “Lady Sothis, if you told me before hand, I would have made room for you.” There’s a soft blush on his cheeks from the kiss. Something he should have anticipated but why would he in this case? It was made clear how much Sothis disliked coffee.
“Mm. I shall next time. It.. I will admit, coffee tastes better from your lips.” A cheeky grin spread across ruby lips and she leaned in for another kiss. This time Hubert was ready, and he managed a chuckle before their lips met.
“Should I be expecting you more frequent when I partake in my morning drink?”
