Dec 28, 2025
OC lineup and thumbnails for artfight earlier this year
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seen from Malaysia
OC lineup and thumbnails for artfight earlier this year
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.
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You look like a corpse, Riley says, easily dodging the swat Trent aims his way. He's joking, but it's true: sure, Jason's sprawled semi-comfortably on the grass, a position he's been in lots of times, but he looks pale and exhausted, with dark shadows on his face.
"Fuck off," Jason says roughly. "Antoine. Hit him for me."
Antoine sighs, but dutifully leans up enough to whap Riley's leg with a stick. Riley rolls his eyes and flops onto the grass a few feet away.
Glad you didn't die. Funerals are boring.
"I trust you to liven it up," Jason murmurs. "Tell some wild stories, at least."
Frank huffs in disproval but ruffles the kid's hair anyway. Jason grimaces but doesn't pull away, even when Frank says, kindly, "You do look like shit, though."
"That's what I said," Antoine says smugly. Jason scowls.
"I was winning. For a minute."
"And here you are," Mark reminds him. "You're the luckiest bastard I've ever seen."
That's true. Frank will admit to having mentally buried him when they brought him back. It's a practicality, a reasonable assumption, even. And God help him, but...there's lucky and there's spooky, and he's not sure which one of them Jason really is.
Hyzel is smad.
Antoine’s been trying to format this letter for the past two hours. It started…appropriately. The penmanship and formality his mother had drilled into him, the kind that he’s let get a little lax over the last year or so. But then it devolved because he can’t–he’s too close to the situation, this isn’t–
I’m so sorry Dove there were children and–
Jason shudders, murmuring something indistinct, and Antoine runs a shaking hand through his hair. There’s no making this sound good, there just isn’t, and he can’t even offer the paltry reassurance of, ‘we didn’t let the rats take him’ because he has no way of knowing how much anyone in town knows of these horrors.
He didn’t suffer, I promise you that.
A blatant lie. But some things he can take to the grave, and these choked, agonized gasps are something he’s never going to bring up and never going to forget.
This isn’t working.
He slumps against the tree acting as part of their makeshift tent and looks at the setting sun. Tomorrow he’ll take the kids, get them out of this nightmare one way or the other. He’s not sure which outcome he wants the least: Jason dies before he leaves, while he’s gone, or lingers longer still.
“You’re a stupid, stubborn bastard,” he murmurs. “I told you–I told you–you were going to get yourself killed playing the hero.”
The crew is prepping for Christmas
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The oldest competitor has entered. The doctor of violence, Elderen!
Next up to bat, the aviation doctor, Jane!
Lady spook is now amongst the crew! (I think her name will be hazel.)