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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
I spent so many hours on those stupid little game board details that weren't seen in the final art. So here you go, a bunch of rooms for your enjoyment!
There are pizza rolls on the Milkovich coffee table, ya'll.
I had a Very Stressful Week last week and it was such a lovely surprise to wake up to a bunch of sweet comments on the weekend, I had quite forgotten that it was time for reveals! 6 days of recovery from the Stress Week later, here’s a little post about:
or the foreseeable future
I hadn’t planned to join the festivities, but realised last minute that I could use the first chapter of a longer fic I had abandoned and post that, so I rewrote the ending of the chapter and then cobbled together a genius disguise consisting of:
1- changing the tense to past tense (how do you do it? I only had to change the tense, I didn’t have to write it, and it nearly broke my brain)
2- gave it an all-lowercase title
Did I fool anyone? Did I? Many thanks to @gallavichthings for organising, and good job on everyone dressing up and everyone guessing <3
Here is the 0,2 of chapter 2 I’d also written before losing steam:
“Hey! Look at me!” someone yells over the music, booming out through the open windows, followed by a crash and effusive cheers from inside the house.
Mickey sinks down in the plush cushions of the loveseat hammock and rocks his heels against the porch floorboards, something squeaking as the seat slowly starts swinging.
It’s getting late and he’s feeling the long day out in the sun catching up to him. Getting home to some peace and quiet sounds like a dream right about now. Holding up his beer to inspect it against the multicolored string lights hung around the porch, he finds it half full. He’ll finish it and then find Kayla to make his excuses and then go home. He’s kept his schedule clear tomorrow in case he finds himself hungover, or in someone else’s bed and unwilling to leave it, but an early night sounds just as good.
“Right, I’m leaving now.”
Mickey stills his foot on instinct and the hammock stops swinging and squeaking as the silhouette of someone moves out through the brightly lit rectangle of the wide open front door.
“Wait,” someone sighs and comes out after, and the two of them stop in the shadows by the porch steps, the first guy out getting stopped and turned around by a hand on his shoulder. “Just–, wait.”
“For what, Ian?” Freezing still, Mickey tries his best to sink into the cushion and disappear, and also hear everything. “For you to catch up with the fact that we’ve been together for over six months and somehow that doesn’t mean anything to you?”
“Come on,” Ian says, “I said I’m sorry, ‘a couple of months’ is just a turn of phrase.”
“A turn of phrase which indicates two, Ian! Two months! Four less than six! Don’t minimize my feelings about this!”
“Jesse–”
“No, you know what? My eyes are wide open. I’m done. I’m leaving.”
The shadowy shape of Jesse walks down the steps and out on the street, before he does a full turn and strides back, stomping determinedly back up the stairs and into Ian’s space. The hammock lets out a small apprehensive squeak as Mickey is led by his left ear to lean closer.
“Actually no, I’m going to say this!” he yells, and from where Mickey sits it looks like he’s poking Ian menacingly in the chest. “You! Are afraid! Of commitment!”
Suppressing the urge to scoff, Mickey frowns when it looks like Ian’s shoulders slump.
“And you’re hung up on some guy from High School! High School, Ian! Grow up!”
“I’m not–, I didn’t know he was going to be here–”
“I don’t care! He can be here if he wants to! I care about you turning into someone I don’t recognize just ‘cause some trash ex from fucking High School shows up!”
“Hey,” Ian says, his voice noticeably harder than before. “You know nothing about him.”
Jesse huffs out a humorless laugh.
“No, no I don’t. That’s the point, isn’t it? And I’m beginning to think I don’t know very much about you either.”
“It’s only been–”
“A couple of months, I know, thank you. So let’s just break it off now and not waste any more time.”
He flounces back down the stairs without waiting for a response, calling over his shoulder: “Good thing I didn’t invest a full half year into this or anything!”
The sounds of the party inside once again fill the silence left in Jesse’s wake, and for a minute Mickey simply looks at Ian, so still and wrapped in shadows that he’s starting to wonder if he’s imagined him. Then he turns and light falls on his face and reflects the shine of his eyes as they lock with Mickey’s.
He jerks back like Mickey had jumped out of nowhere and scared him, one hand honest to God clutching at his chest for a second before he squeezes his eyes closed, hands coming up to cover his face.
”Shit, Mickey,” he says, and drops his hands, “didn’t see you.”
“I know,” Mickey says, “kinda the point.”
”Enjoy the show?”
Mickey shrugs. “Depends. You want me to be honest or nice?”
Letting out a short laugh, Ian shakes his head.
”Uh-huh,” Mickey mutters, tearing his eyes off Ian to look out at the street. The hammock squeaks and creaks as he shifts over to make space next to him on the loveseat, a silent invitation.
“Sit down,” he says after a moment without Ian taking him up on it. “Let’s fucking–, catch up, or whatever. Haven’t seen you in over ten years, asshole, I’m sure you’ve got a ton of shit you wanna chat about.”
He resolutely doesn’t look, and probably holds his breath for the full minute it takes before Ian sits down next to him, the hammock shifting and complaining under his added weight.
”You, eh–,” Mickey starts, fingers picking at the label on his beer, mind blank. “You doin’ good?”
“Besides just getting dumped?” Ian snorts and shifts a little in his seat, shoulder brushing against Mickey’s. “Yeah, I’m doing pretty good. You?”
”Yeah, same,” Mickey says and then frowns at himself, “I mean, I haven’t been dumped in a while but I’m good. Things are good.”
”Good,” Ian says, sounding like he’s trying not to laugh. If that’s at Mickey’s expense or because he’s simply that thrilled by their titillating conversation, Mickey couldn’t possibly tell. Either way would be fine.
”You said you just moved back to Chicago?” Mickey tries to press on, turning his head to glance at Ian only to find him looking back, a small smile playing on his lips.
”Mh-hm, last year,” Ian says, raising an eyebrow. “When was the last time you got dumped?”
Mickey grins and looks away from him, takes a sip of his beer. How about ten years ago, asshole, and I’m still fucking bruised over it. Beat that!
“Not usually the one getting dumped,” he says instead, smiling against the lip of the beer bottle when Ian lets out a sarcastically impressed whistle. “Where were you?”
It doesn’t sound nearly as casual as he meant for it to sound, but whatever. Guess casual’s not really likely an option for any of this conversation.
”Before moving back?” Ian confirms, shifting a little in his seat. “Springfield, Clayton had a friend there who wanted him to move anyway, help him with his
Aaaand here is where I stopped writing, realising that I actually needed to think about when in the canon this story diverges from, and what Ian’s been doing for the last ten year, and I couldn’t think of anything lol
And here are my notes for the rest of the story:
Chicago pride parade is on 30th of june from 12 noon to 11 am on monday? Anyway, PARADE is at around 4 pm
Sunday 5:19 parade
Sunday evening at the house party 10:30
Monday morning at the club 12:01
Monday morning at the club lost / found 3 am
Monday morning on the rooftop 5:19 am sunrise
Monday morning 10 am - tylenol
12 hours??????????? I mean
that could be fun as hell
They both end up at a house party and Jesse leaves, and Mickey and Ian end up talking on a hammock on the porch
Some friends of Ian’s are moving on to a club called “wish” and they both join them.
They end up on the floor of the wardrobe at some point looking through the lost and found (maybe one of Ian’s friends lost something) they are also metaphorically lost and found
They end up on someone’s rooftop patio in the small hours of the morning, sitting squished together on an old sofa someone has dragged up there for the occasion. Ian’s arm is slung casually behind Mickey, tips of his fingers brushing against his back.
Rooftop “Hey, look at me”
Tylenol - Mickey wakes up alone, but then Ian walks in with a glass of water and some tylenol and gets back in bed.
