
seen from Malaysia
seen from Australia

seen from Netherlands
seen from Malaysia
seen from TĂŒrkiye

seen from Germany

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from Malaysia
seen from Poland

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Ireland
seen from Germany

seen from France

seen from Italy
seen from United States
seen from United States

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.
Free to watch âą No registration required âą HD streaming
Negative Feedback Loop
[NOTE: Betty has a brother. His name is Bronson. He remembers a time back when D and Betty used to date. Â Like this time.]
DEATH BETTY: âNEGATIVE FEEDBACK LOOPâ Death Betty Created by Ryan Winn & Adam Jackman Written by Adam Jackman
Theyâre fighting. Again. Always. Theyâre always fighting. Bickering. Squabbling. Foreplay. Yawn.Â
Theyâre fighting, and Iâm in the back seat of the car, like Iâm eight years old, being driven around by my sisterâs boyfriend, driving to nowhere.Â
Oh, hold up now. Itâs quiet. Bettyâs looking at D with her Iâm Gonna Bring The Hammer face, and sheâs gone silent, with her lips all closed-tight in that way she does, like she just loaded the rocket onto the shoulder mount and the shoulder mount is her mouth, and then she holds onto that big fat silent moment âcuz if youâre gonna bring the hammer, you need to clear some space first to get a good swing.Â
âYouâre being passive aggressive.âÂ
D was expecting a blow-up; he wasnât ready for the indirect projectile I Know You Are But What Am I. He says âIâm not being passive aggressive, I just really, actually, literally, genuinely, no lie, I have zero opinion about what we eat right now.âÂ
Bad move, D. You think youâre gonna win this relationship with that sad-ass attempt at honest communication? Sheâs the master. She doesnât even answer that limp pile of words. Stay silent, man. Itâs the only way you can even hope to get back to a level playing field.Â
âWe went to the Dash ân Dine last night, so I know you donât want to eat there.âÂ
Going on the offensive. Bold move. Dumb.Â
âI donât want to be the guy who always dictates where we go, just because of my work.âÂ
Her eyes just rolled so far back in her head, they landed in my lap.Â
âYou wanna go get fruit ân fries?âÂ
D, youâre killing me. Donât try to make it about her when sheâs acting like you have a decision here. Just pick a place, so she can say no to it, so you can pick another place until she says yes.Â
Wait, wait, maybe Iâm wrong. Maybe it worked. Sheâs opening her mouth. Without looking at me in the back seat, she says, âBronson, you pick.âÂ
Oh, hell no.Â
In the time since D picked me and Betty up, in all that time driving aimlessly nowhere while they fight about where weâre eating and then not-fight about where weâre not eating, the past twenty-whatever minutes, Iâve managed to dismantle the interior light over the door, unpack it to its component parts, then re-assemble them as a tiny handheld helicopter. There isnât enough juice in the bulb to make it fly, but it looks slick. This is how I donât scream.Â
Outside the passenger-side window is a woman who is not our age. âWoah, is that Amy Lancaster?â Itâs not. It never was. âNo, no, itâs not. I heard she got fat. Good for her.âÂ
The car is silent again. Dodged that bullet. Thanks, Not Amy Lancaster. âIf youâre not hungry,â D flails, âwe could just head down to the pier.â âOh, youâre not even hungry?â Watch out, D. Itâs a trap. He steps right in: âNo, Iâm hungry.âÂ
âThen pick something.âÂ
Itâs weird, watching him be so hopeless at this. Iâve seen him doing his job, and he seems reasonably good at it. What are the qualifications for being the guy who ushers souls off to immortal whatever, that they donât include not being so stupidly rookie about negotiating dinner plans with one measly mortal girlfriend?Â
D squishes up his face and starts another colossal mistake: âYou know what?âÂ
âWhat. Tell me what. I really want to hear WHAT.â She was ready for that. Seriously, D, stop talking. Would you just drive the car into a tree already, and put us all out of our misery?Â
âNothing.âÂ
Ugh. Retreat? Surrender?! Youâve met the enemy, youâre in it, you canât back off now. She will eat you alive.Â
Yup. Silence. Sheâs got you, man. Youâve got no game, no hopeâitâs over. This is painful to watch. The servos in the window brrrrzzzz to the tune of Betty flipping the switch: up, down, up, down, up up, down down down.Â
Heâs pulling over. Heâs finally giving up the ghost. Or taking a stand. This should be good.Â
What is this burger dive? Leave it to D to frequent the grease shack where they invented Heart Disease. Betty is not going to... she is not frowning.Â
She likes it. This is what she wanted. He did it. He won. Oh, you sneaky, sneaky Death.Â
Negative Feedback Loop
[NOTE: Betty has a brother. His name is Bronson. He remembers a time back when D and Betty used to date. Â Like this time.]
DEATH BETTY: âNEGATIVE FEEDBACK LOOPâ Death Betty Created by Ryan Winn & Adam Jackman Written by Adam Jackman
Theyâre fighting. Again. Always. Theyâre always fighting. Bickering. Squabbling. Foreplay. Yawn.Â
Theyâre fighting, and Iâm in the back seat of the car, like Iâm eight years old, being driven around by my sisterâs boyfriend, driving to nowhere.Â
Oh, hold up now. Itâs quiet. Bettyâs looking at D with her Iâm Gonna Bring The Hammer face, and sheâs gone silent, with her lips all closed-tight in that way she does, like she just loaded the rocket onto the shoulder mount and the shoulder mount is her mouth, and then she holds onto that big fat silent moment âcuz if youâre gonna bring the hammer, you need to clear some space first to get a good swing.Â
âYouâre being passive aggressive.âÂ
D was expecting a blow-up; he wasnât ready for the indirect projectile I Know You Are But What Am I. He says âIâm not being passive aggressive, I just really, actually, literally, genuinely, no lie, I have zero opinion about what we eat right now.âÂ
Bad move, D. You think youâre gonna win this relationship with that sad-ass attempt at honest communication? Sheâs the master. She doesnât even answer that limp pile of words. Stay silent, man. Itâs the only way you can even hope to get back to a level playing field.Â
âWe went to the Dash ân Dine last night, so I know you donât want to eat there.âÂ
Going on the offensive. Bold move. Dumb.Â
âI donât want to be the guy who always dictates where we go, just because of my work.âÂ
Her eyes just rolled so far back in her head, they landed in my lap.Â
âYou wanna go get fruit ân fries?âÂ
D, youâre killing me. Donât try to make it about her when sheâs acting like you have a decision here. Just pick a place, so she can say no to it, so you can pick another place until she says yes.Â
Wait, wait, maybe Iâm wrong. Maybe it worked. Sheâs opening her mouth. Without looking at me in the back seat, she says, âBronson, you pick.âÂ
Oh, hell no.Â
In the time since D picked me and Betty up, in all that time driving aimlessly nowhere while they fight about where weâre eating and then not-fight about where weâre not eating, the past twenty-whatever minutes, Iâve managed to dismantle the interior light over the door, unpack it to its component parts, then re-assemble them as a tiny handheld helicopter. There isnât enough juice in the bulb to make it fly, but it looks slick. This is how I donât scream.Â
Outside the passenger-side window is a woman who is not our age. âWoah, is that Amy Lancaster?â Itâs not. It never was. âNo, no, itâs not. I heard she got fat. Good for her.âÂ
The car is silent again. Dodged that bullet. Thanks, Not Amy Lancaster. âIf youâre not hungry,â D flails, âwe could just head down to the pier.â âOh, youâre not even hungry?â Watch out, D. Itâs a trap. He steps right in: âNo, Iâm hungry.âÂ
âThen pick something.âÂ
Itâs weird, watching him be so hopeless at this. Iâve seen him doing his job, and he seems reasonably good at it. What are the qualifications for being the guy who ushers souls off to immortal whatever, that they donât include not being so stupidly rookie about negotiating dinner plans with one measly mortal girlfriend?Â
D squishes up his face and starts another colossal mistake: âYou know what?âÂ
âWhat. Tell me what. I really want to hear WHAT.â She was ready for that. Seriously, D, stop talking. Would you just drive the car into a tree already, and put us all out of our misery?Â
âNothing.âÂ
Ugh. Retreat? Surrender?! Youâve met the enemy, youâre in it, you canât back off now. She will eat you alive.Â
Yup. Silence. Sheâs got you, man. Youâve got no game, no hopeâitâs over. This is painful to watch. The servos in the window brrrrzzzz to the tune of Betty flipping the switch: up, down, up, down, up up, down down down.Â
Heâs pulling over. Heâs finally giving up the ghost. Or taking a stand. This should be good.Â
What is this burger dive? Leave it to D to frequent the grease shack where they invented Heart Disease. Betty is not going to... she is not frowning.Â
She likes it. This is what she wanted. He did it. He won. Oh, you sneaky, sneaky Death.Â