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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
Had a new Idea !! I really liked a format I did for an ask, sooo...
OPENING UP OC INTERACTION !!
Brief Description: Flood my asks with OC interaction requests! Choose an oc of my mines of your liking, and ask what-if scenarios, simple dialogue, or even QNA. Thing is, I answer/ write from the characters perspective so it's not exactly reliable narration. The format would be like this.
More detail below !! 👇
Yeah, this is like a short fanfic of sorts— maybe even a roleplay if you're squinting at it (If you make a response/ reblog, basically a continuation, it'll take a bit for me to reblog.) Just look at the format I linked above and know what to expect! And maybe, if I like the interaction idea so much I may even make a drawing of it!
To get your creative juices flowing, I allow basically anything unless I state otherwise. To make it more "immersive" you can also insert your oc/Yuu in the scenario making it into an OC interaction! Let me give some examples to show you, you absolutely have the reigns.
Examples: (OC B) asks Fenrir how he was tutored as a kid. (OC A) Goes on a (play)date with Malificio Draconia. (OC G) robs a bank with Nye? A HORROR SCENARIO?? Romance, Angst, more Dark genres as well. Any outlandish what-if's scenarios are most definitely accepted! Makes them more fun for me to write, so anything goes!
And ANYONE is welcome to this not just moots, I love seeing new OC's and having them interact with mine so DON'T BE SHYYY!! I am very nice I don't bite. . . (much!)
Im going to list (and show pictures of) my ocs below, and in order I will list their tags below— where the majority of their posts are at so you can know what you want about them. And learn more!
Was over on Bluesky talking to @spffnity about my girl (any pronouns) Ying-er! I have no lead-in other than Xie Lian passed that baby like a spiritual gallstone and did 👏 not 👏 notice 👏 ! Enjoy!
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He was going to break every piece of furniture in this palace over the two generals’ heads, and if they didn’t start talking by then, he would break out E-ming and let his scimitar do the talking.
He had come to heaven to hunt down Feng Xin and Mu Qing. They had been avoiding his messages over the communication array and the actual, physical letter he sent out of desperation.
He had thought maybe to find them dead if both his Danxia was missing and they went unheard from. But no- he had come to Heaven and found them sitting chummily over a pot of tea in General Xuan Zhen’s palace sitting room.
His arrival had quickly devolved the situation into a fight. And for his husband’s sake alone he kept to using improvised weapons.
The fight was escalating to the point where junior officials and disciples who came to check on the ruckus as all fled for their safety and left them to it.
“Shushu?” A young voice called from the palace’s main entryway, soft, jingling footsteps drew closer to the entrance of the room.
“Fuck!” Mu Qing hissed quietly and struggled back against Hua Cheng’s hand on his throat and in his tied up hair.
“Ying-er! Go back to your room! I’ll talk with you-ghk!” Mu Qing’s shout cut off in a strangled gurgle as Feng Xin threw himself at Hua Cheng, jostling his hold on Mu Qing’s throat.
“Are shushus fighting again?” The young voice sighed disapprovingly, the speaker appearing at the half-open door in a silky cloud of pink.
“Ying-er! Leave!” Feng Xin shouted, hands slapping around Hua Cheng’s shoulders and chest in an attempted grapple.
Out of the corner of Hua Cheng’s limited view to his left, he saw the person had stepped halfway into the room and was currently surveying the damage.
“Who is that you are fighting?”
“YING-” Mu Qing bit out, but was cut off by another squeeze around his throat.
“Ah, you must be Crimson Rain Sought Flower. My uncles have spoken of you before, a supreme in red. Hm.” The youth’s voice was soft, thoughtful, idle.
“Pity you are behaving exactly as in their stories. I’d hoped there might be more depth to you.” The goading words were said in the same light tone, and though Hua Cheng didn’t particularly care what people thought about him, something about the easy confidence and nonchalance in their tone caused him to turn and look at the newcomer.
Xie Lian.
He dropped Mu Qing and crossed the room to the doorway in the span of a heartbeat.
He was about to speak, to reach out, when he noticed two glaringly obvious things that stopped him short.
Xie Lian was considerably shorter than he usually was, and he was wearing a qiyao ruqun made of pink silks embroidered with leaping rabbits in shining silver and white thread.
Hua Cheng did a second examination, noting the childhood softness in their cheeks and the shade of brown in their eyes was just a shade darker and to the left of Xie Lian’s.
He came to three conclusions: this was a girl, this was a child, and this was not Xie Lian.
A fourth: but she was definitely suspicious.
He smiled and cocked his head, hoping to disarm her with charm.
“You seem to have grasped the full breadth of my character in a few mere moments.” He leaned forward slightly as she raised an eyebrow.
“And what does A-Ying make of this one?”
“I think…” She said, tapping a finger to her cheek in an exaggerated, artful way as one might do in an opera.
“The fox thinks himself very clever / changing his maw from snarl to smile may fool his prey / but the hunter who cannot read a fox’s face / already knows to bring a knife.”
She spoke the poem beautifully, and Hua Cheng wondered if she was reciting something she learned or had made it up on the spot. The confidence and wry smile she wore as she spoke it made him believe that it could very well be either. It was actually impressive.
He wasn’t used to feeling impressed by anyone other than his husband, who did know quite a bit of poetry and was witty in his own right. He couldn’t stop seeing him in this child. Though he probably wouldn’t have thought twice about the resemblance if Xie Lian weren’t missing.
“You dare!” Mu Qing stormed over and attempted to shove his body in between them like a wall of black silk and bruised skin.
“Stay away from her!” He blustered, Feng Xin coming over to stand at his fellow general’s side, arms crossed.
“And who is A-Ying?” Hua Cheng asked, more to Ying-er who was still watching him cautiously from behind Mu Qing.
“I’m a Junior Official. I am a disciple under General Xuan Zhen, who is my sponsor.”
“‘In training’?”
“I am receiving an education in civic matters and I am trained martially by my uncles, and I have been making-”
“Enough, Ying-er.”
At Mu Qing's uncharacteristically soft tone she shut her mouth with a dramatic snap and stared up at them all with a sweet, innocent stare.
“So A-Ying was selected from among your worshipers? Such familiarity that this junior junior official can call you ‘uncle’...”
As the martial gods puffed up their ruffled feathers defensively again, A-Ying's even-toned question shifted the situation into a civil direction.
“Why did you come here, Crimson Rain Sought Flower?”
Hua Cheng didn’t see why he shouldn’t allow this child to know, she seemed close with the generals already, and it wasn’t as if he wasn’t asking everyone in his social circle and employ.
“My husband has been missing.”
Guilt churned in his stomach. Everything had seemed so normal in their life until one day Xie Lian hadn’t come home from a mission, one involving a prayer, not a Heavenly mission. He hadn’t answered his communication array, and the dice hadn’t led him to where he was. But he wasn’t dead, he was sure of it, he would have felt it. The string knotted on his finger remained as it was. When the red strand was made visible, though, it flapped errantly, as though in an unseen wind.
“The… Flower Crowned Martial God?” She said slowly, chewing at some loose skin on her lip.
“Yes.”
“I have been told we look alike. Is that true?”
So she was aware of the resemblance. He wondered if Mu Qing or Feng Xin had been the ones to admit it. But he knew how constipated their feelings were on the subject of their crown prince, so he doubted it.
“There is a resemblance.”
Hua Cheng watched as she sucked her lip in thought for a moment.
“I’ve been working on something, on my illusion skill. If I can make myself look like someone I’ve seen, can you tell me if you recognize them?”
Hua Cheng doubted a young cultivator could masterfully craft an illusion sufficient enough to be recognizably anyone, even higher level cultivators and gods struggled with that. Ghosts commanded the skill much more naturally, but even then…
“Go ahead.” He nodded.
“Shushu…” She pushed her martial uncles away with a grumble, then began to stretch and shake out her arms. Then she breathed in deeply, flourished her arms, and in a blink became taller, shoulders broader, the same colored hair pulled back in a ratty bun at the nape of their neck.
Hua Cheng’s heart could have stopped if it had been beating.
The clothes were plain, a pale not-sort-of-anything color, the sleeves tied back and an apron tied in front. There were dark circles under the eyes, which were the right honey-brown color this time, and the forearms looked a little thin.
But it was a very accurate image. Not of how Hua Cheng had last seen him, but it was recognizably his husband, albeit worse for wear.
The illusion faded in wisps of fog floating away from her body as Hua Cheng reached out and held her by the shoulders.
“Where did you see this man? And when?”
Hua Cheng saw something flash in her eyes followed by a wince. Guilt.
