Datasets:

ResplendentAI

/

BluemoonAlpaca

like 4

Follow

Resplendent AI 53

So Taylor Swift was in sexy cavegirloutfit on some unmapped tropical island. Even that sentence sounded ludicrous, and Taylor was the one who happened to be living that particular reality right now. She'd been told to leave her blonde hair in a sort of shaggy style, but there had still of course been some artful makeup. Bright blue eyes popped and looked oh so sultry and fetching from that beautiful face. Taylor had been working more and more recently at being "sensual" and "sexy." It was all part of image development, of branching forward and continuing the domination of the Taylor Swift brand. Be just sexy enough to sell, but not sexy enough to completely turn off the legion of teenagers who wanted to be just like Taylor. It had been a balancing act for ages, but now Taylor worked ever so hard at making sure that she entered womanhood and became a full adult pop star. Hell, there weren't too many people on the planet who dominated quite like her. Yet there she was: dressed like some sort of cave girl. To be more accurate, Taylor looked and felt like a porn star in a caveman based film. Admittedly a moderately decent budget, given the fabric that draped Taylor's lean form. The fur pulling her already perky chest nearly flat to her form felt almost real. The leather cinching her tight and drawing yet more attention to the slender hourglass figure definitely was. Same for the boots that extended nearly to Taylor's knees. Someone had even gone all out and made certain that Taylor wore a tiger-striped and fur lined thong to complete the package. She could feel the strange fabric splitting her tight ass cheeks almost too perfectly. The whole thing looked pretty sexy, in a slightly slutty sort of way. "It's for a good cause," the pretty blonde told herself as she walked away from the little tent they'd set up for her to change in. Her booted feet slid a bit on the sand as she walked along the beach. The island was beautiful: she had to give them that. Luxurious, the perfect temperature for this sort of thing. The only major building was this impressive French colonial manor that perched atop a slight hill, looking like it had been ripped from a not-so-distant past. The lush greenery around only made the place seem more paradisaical. It struck Taylor as a rather expensive locale for what amounted to a charity shoot but, well, she supposed if she was going to do this, she was going to do it all out. And Taylor had definitely studied up on this. The doctor was apparently working with some sort of gene splicing therapy that was already making progress. The details were a bit fuzzy, but it apparently helped humans that would otherwise be deemed insufficient to be more... acceptable to humanity. Taylor read through a report that made it sound like it fought off mental deterioration and possibly even had something to do with virility. They were just in the final phases of testing and were looking for a spokesperson. Taylor had been looking for a cause and, well, here she was: dressed like a cavewoman. "This is so taking advantage of the poor subject," Taylor mumbled as she walked back to where the arranger of this whole thing had the cameras and such set up. "I really should give them a piece of my mind," though right now her mind was focused more on keeping balanced in these "fuck-me" boots as she strutted. "I'm ready!" she yelled toward what looked like extra lights and cameras. There had to be at least a few people there somewhere. "You've got to be kidding me: this whole thing has been entirely too unprofessional. I should just call someone and get the hell off this rock..." Except that there was no cell service, apparently. Taylor could send an email, she supposed. And if no one showed up soon, she was doing exactly that. She was supposed to be getting this shoot started already, meeting with her partner and getting everything together. Taylor never really liked this part of the whole being famous thing, and the outfit and the trip and just everything was really making her just want to get it all over with...

Some way back from the beach, two shadows stood amid the flickering light of the jungle. They were watching the elegant figure on the sands surrounded by the camera gear, as she remained oblivious to their voyeurism. Each maintained the stillness of a watchful predator completely at home in their environment. Together they were as much a part of the jungle as the dead-eyed lizards crawling over the rocks or the gaudy parrots leering overhead. The larger of the two was a burly man, his barrel chest and trunk limbs straining his old white cotton suit now a malaised yellow through years of sweat. A battered panama hat and restitched pair of canvas shoes gave him almost the aspect of a caricature, like a Charles Laughton character from a seedy old noir. To a casual observer his ruffled appearance and distracted air made him seem like a dotty schoolmaster who had lost his students. But these affectations were deliberately contrived to disarm, and the true character of the man within was that of a practiced torturer and gleeful sadist. Certainly, Dr Anton Prospero's face wasn't about to win him any admirers. His bloated, ranine features resembled a bilious frog an image not improved by glassy round eyes that seemed to take in everything at once, and an unsettling habit of continually wetting his needle-thin lips. Nor was his saggy middle-aged physique impressive in any way, although he possessed an immense innate strength. But behind these flabby clay flaws was a brilliant mind, cold and clear as a diamond, which knew no boundaries of morals or ethics and insisted solely on his quest to perfect the human form. For twenty-five years he had been one of the premier plastic surgeons in Europe, until he was forced to flee Europe after an outrage saw him made a hunted man. Having being slighted by a rival physician, he abducted the man's daughter a stunning beauty to whom her father was devoted and turned her into a veritable medusa through a horrific, irreparable operation. Abandoning his name of Moreau, he fled to a long-secured blothole and adopted the handle of Shakespeare's island-dwelling magician in a narcissistic touch of irony. Now unrestrained from the petty minds and backward peasants who had previously hindered his work, he began to truly bend the limits of species and race. The second figure now crouching beside him was the result of these inhuman experiments. At a casual glance it seemed like a stocky small man in a very badly made monkey suit, but further examination revealed the twisted entity to be like some stunted, Neanderthal dwarf, carpeted in a mat of thick black hair. His flat nose, square head and ferocious facial hair all seemed to disappear alongside his black shining eyes, which burned with an animal intensity. A set of short, powerful limbs were like sinewy cords and his compact frame seethed with a constant furious energy. Around his waist he wore a rudimentary fur girdle, which did little to suppress the obvious bulge of his prodigious member. As the breeze shifted his nose twitched, tasting Taylor's youthful, sweaty body in the air and he pawed the dirt with a guttural moan. Easy, Caliban. Easy, my son, said Prospero in a flat distracted tone. He was watching Taylor through a digital telescope, reveling in the sight of her lithe figure in the barely-there costume. Mon Dieu, Botticelli never dreamed of a Venus like this washing up on a white sand beach, he said with a sigh that was almost nostalgic. He ran the lens across her body like the practiced hands of a lover, taking every chance to savor her beautiful young physique. Languidly he drank in the sight of her bronze toned legs; the way her calves tapered out of the boots into her firm dancer's thighs. His eyes rode up to her high, firm ass, its gym-shaped contours perfectly accented in the cursory thong. Her drum-tight, sweat dappled chest and elegant waist shone in the sun, but the delicious promise of her two ripe, round breasts remained barely suppressed by the cavegirl bra. Finally he gazed at length on her aristocratic features, her bright pink lips pouting with arrogant impatience. Through the scope he could see her sapphire eyes blinking bright and troubled as the sea. Miss Swift, it's time for your close-up, he said with a soft chuckle. Pocketing the telescope he drew out his control device, a digital phone used to control the equipment on the beach. Flicking through the various functions he activated them all and began the recording. Then taking Caliban's hand as gently as someone would a child's, he intoned with mock formality Come, my little friend! We've kept our lovely guest waiting long enough. Your big moment in the limelight awaits! Together, they walked casually down onto the beach towards Taylor.

It was a beautiful day in the region. Diego had been working up an intense focus as he faced his target. It was an Absol. He certainly didn't expect to find one here, but it definitely meant that it was going to be a good day. The stocky young man stood facing the Absol with a glint of determination and hunger. He adjusted his glasses before he pulled out a Pokeball and threw it. "All right, Infernape, why don't you get out here and lend me a hand with this," Diego said with a roguish smile as he let out his collared primate Pokemon.

His Infernape explodes out of her pokeball and rolls to her feet. She's tall for a Pokemon, all slim limbs and ropy muscle, with longer white fur on her forearms and shins. Whorls of gold sheath her fists and knees, with two of them coiling out from around her back to cup her breasts, dark nipples poking out from beneath white fur. Her tail is long enough to brush on the ground when she walks, but right now it flicks back and forth in agitation at the thought that her master is in danger. She looks from him to the Absol, and starts stalking in a slow circle.

The night in San Javier was better than the daytime; you could actually feel the seabreeze against your skin and the sun didn't beat down and chase you into the water. It was especially perfect for a cigar, rum, and a girl to enjoy. At present,Pierre Murat had only two of those things, though there were always options on his phone or on his staff. He'd created the Elysian as a relaxation and pleasure paradise, and it had a solid reputation as a place people could get away with just about anything. Above the law in his domain, he traded location and luxury for near-infinite tourist dollars. And occasionally, celebrities would enter his domain. In this case, the young Ariana Grande had found her way to his island. Extinguishing his cigar and setting his drink aside for now, he stood and moved inside the luxe penthouse. One good thing about the tropics was they kept you lean; Murat was no exception, spending time on workouts and keeping things simple, giving him a body that he currently showed off with an open white shirt and shorts. He looked a wealthy patron, but the owner liked to move about unnoticed except by people who knew. Minutes later, he arrived at Ariana's suite door with a package in hand. A new bathing suit branded for the Elysian, navy. A silk sheer cover-up. Some massage oils. Coupons for free everything. The full celebrity treatment. His Haitian accent infused his voice as he knocked lightly, smiling through the peephole. "It's Pierre, Miss Ariana. I am here to welcome you for your stay.

Gah, was this trip something Ariananeeded just desperately? She'd been working nonstop for like ever at this point. All the performing and recording and press interviews and her new stint on that one show. It all was just all kinds of overwhelming. So when she'd gotten the invite to the Elysian, this one-of-a-kind relaxation destination where you could get literally everything you ever wanted to chill out and enjoy yourself? Yeah, Ariana would've teleported there if she'd had the chance. Unfortunately, technology had not quite caught up to the whims of teenage pop stars just yet, so Ariana had to settle for the much longer way. The pretty young thing arrived with all the pomp and circumstance a diva should. There was a near whirlwind as she brought in her luggage and talked to the various employees to get everything situated. Yes, she had reserved a room: not just a room, theroom, the best room they had, and the sooner she got it, the happier everyone would be. She was hustled right along, the smiles and "ma'am"s doing wonders for her disposition. The place helped too. Elysian really lived up to its reputation: all warm and tropical. There were palm trees and a beach practically shoved up against the resort proper. How cool was that? And that wasn't even taking into consideration all the tropic luxury that had greeted the petite performer upon her arrival. She'd been dancing by the time they showed her to her room. Ariana had wasted no time in flopping down onto the bed, reddish brown hair flying out around her. She looked every inch the teenager who'd stolen daddy's credit card to get away for a weekend. All five feet of her practically vibrated with excitement, from her perfectly trimmed and lightly painted little toes to the top of her expertly coiffed hair. Excitement shone in those dark eyes as she pushed herself upright, looking around the room. Each gesture caused her hair to flip around her shoulders, practically hitting her perky, yet small bust. Within moments she'd launched off the bed, taut abdomen muscles rippling with the motion. Years of dancing and performing had left Ariana with an exquisitely lean body, genetics and training only adding further to it. This girl bounded up to the door as she heard the knock: "Coming!" she called in a sing-song. She didn't waste any time in opening the door. "Hello there!" she called, looking up at him. She met his eyes for a moment before falling on the stuff in his arms. "Oh wow, is this the whole VIP treatment thing they mentioned in the email? Because I totally wasn't expecting it." This last was said in a way that clearly indicated just how much she was. The girl stood to the side, nodding and gesturing for the man to go right in, smiling all the while.

It was reaping day, a holiday for most, but not in District 12. Katniss woke and dressed, same as Prim, then together they helped their mother dress. She plaited their hair and together the three of them headed out onto the dirty streets of the Seam. Her heart was heavy; there were many things to worry about. She didn't worry about herself, only about Prim and him. Him? His name was Kolton, and he also lived in the Seam, just the other end. It all happened a long time ago, but today she couldn't think about that. Today she had to keep her head present and clear. As much as she loved him, thinking of him today made her sad. Right now she needed his strength, but one touch would break her, and she couldn't break, not today. Head straight ahead, she smiled down at her sister who clung to her hand as they stood with the rest of the girls. The nervous energy filled the area, and she could feel his eyes on her. Swallowing hard, she turned and for one brief second their eyes met. Love, adoration, need, sadness, and fear passed from her to him even while a smile brushed across her lips. Just like that, she was settled. The unthinkable happened seconds later: Prim's name was called out, and the peacekeepers jerked the young girl from her grasp. So shocked, Katniss said nothing, not until Prim screamed her name. Shooting into action, Katniss lifted her arms and yelled over the panicked cries. "I volunteer as tribute!" It took them only seconds to release Prim and grab her. Guiding her to the stage, as though she didn't know where it was, in reality, it was to keep her from running off. Climbing those few stairs, Katniss stood to the side of Miss Effie, waiting nervously for her to call out her male counterpart's name. Her eyes landed on Kolton; this could be the last time she laid eyes on him. This couldn't be happening. The emotional aspect of what she had done hit her, tears came to her gray eyes. She turned her head slightly, if she didn't look at him, she wouldn't cry.

Another year meant another day of fear and anxiety for Kolton Smith. The young boy only needed to survive two more reapings before he'd be too old for the Games. Being from the Seam, his family was quite poor and signing up for tesserae was a difficult but necessary thing for him to do. Besides, his older sister just turned eighteen two years before him and she was fine... surely he could survive these next two years, right? In all honesty, his own safety wasn't at the front of his mind. No, it was all about her. In a loveless and hopeless country in a district so poor that it was commonplace to find children with their ribs showing from such starvation and to have so much death from disease and coal mining accidents, Kolton seemed to do the impossible. This girl named Katniss whom he met a long time ago had really grown on him. They weren't the couple to be seen laughing and playing around all the time, but the love they shared could be seen by anyone that watched them though their most intimate and private moments happened in the woods outside the district where it was like another world, almost, and how badly he wished it was. But here they were again, lining up for the reaping of the Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games. As the colorful Effie Trinket was reaching in the glass ball to grab a slip of paper, Kolton prayed to every deity known to mankind that the name wouldn't have the last name of Everdeen. Was it wrong to wish this on someone else? Maybe it was, but as long as it was neither Katniss nor Primrose, he couldn't care less. When the name was read out in an almost happy manner, his heart stopped beating. Before this was even processed in his mind, Katniss was walking to the stage and volunteering for her little sister. Without having time to realize what was going on, his head was kept lowered and he couldn't look at the stage because that would make this real... and this wasn't real! Just when things didn't seem like they couldn't get any worse... they did... they got significantly worse. "Kolton Smith!" Kolton made his way towards the stage when his name was called. Even though he was going to volunteer, the shock of the moment was still registering on his face. His struggle to remain emotionless was evident, but the alarm in his eyes weren't from being picked... the alarm originated from both he and Katniss being picked. Following protocol, the mayor read the long, dull Treaty of Treason and upon finishing, the mayor gestured for the tributes to shake hands. Swallowing hard, he did his best to only show his emotions to Katniss by shaking her hand and holding onto her longer than necessary before releasing her hand while being marched a different direction than her by the Peacekeepers to the Justice Building for final goodbyes. In Kolton's room first were his parents and sister. Of course, they were all torn up about this and Kolton did his best to remain strong. They wanted him to come back home to them but Kolton reminded them of something. They instilled in him that whenever he said he loved a girl, he should be willing to do anything and everything for her- that if he really loved her, he'd be willing to die for her. In fact, his father said if he wouldn't die for a girl he said that he loved, then that's not love. Kolton straight up told his parents that he wasn't coming back. He loved them so much but Katniss had his heart and a life without her was boring and dull. After some back and forth, his parents and sister (reluctantly) accepted what he was telling them. They couldn't help but be proud- he was willing to die for the girl he loved and that was true love, that was a true man and that's what they taught him his entire life even with how awful of a world they lived in. After some heartfelt goodbyes, hugs, and kisses, they exited to go see Katniss briefly with tear-filled eyes and broken hearts, but they couldn't stop Kolton and they knew it. A few other friends visited him but what he didn't expect was to see Primrose. When she arrived, he gave her a hug and grabbed her shoulders, squeezing them and telling her that he was going to get Katniss home to her, that she didn't need to worry and that Katniss would be back. They didn't get to talk long before Peacekeepers barged in and pulled her away before slamming the door behind them.

Kylie closed the door of her room behind her and sighed. It had been a long and exhausting day. The team had managed to foil the latest ectoplasmic incursion, but it had been a doozy. And they hadn't managed to capture the ghost/god responsible. That was nagging at Kylie. Dispersing the Somniwyrms had made sure Morpheus could not restore himself, but that had meant Morpheus had eluded capture. She tried to push the irritation out of her head. It was done. The next time the god of dreams tried to break into the mortal world, they'd be ready to get him. Kylie changed into her nightie and crawled into bed after a quick shower. She could barely keep her eyes open. Thankfully, there were no classes the next day. She could sleep in. As she slipped into slumber, she did not think about whether her dreams were safe.

The actions of the current team of Ghostbusters had proven to be more than just a slightly nagging annoyance for the entity known as Morpheus. Although they could not capture or completely put a halt to his attempts at crossing over to their world, they were still constantly preventing him from making more than the smallest of progress in his attempts. As such, the entity decided that it was time for a direct and different approach both in dealing with his opponents and gathering more of the energy he needed. As the gothy teenager slipped off into the land of slumber, a Somniwyrm similar to those they had fought earlier that day made its way into her bedroom. The creature floated over the sleeping young woman's bed before extending outward a slim probe from its underside which gently latched itself onto her forehead. To the outside world, it may have seemed like this was the end of the creature's effects on the woman, but that was far from the truth as it began to directly influence and manipulate her dreams while digging deep inside for what it wanted. What it wanted was those deeply hidden thoughts and dreams that are rarely spoken out loud. More so, it wanted her deeply buried fantasies, as within the teenager's personal dreamscape she would soon find herself standing within the Ghostbusters headquarters, fully in costume, with nobody else initially in sight. None of her teammates. No sign of Professor Spangler or Janine. Nobody else, as something wicked loomed within the faked structure and watched the teenager as she moved about the premises.

West city was home to millions of people and it was a great place to live. It was also home to Capsule Corporation. This was home to Bulma and her family, and not too far away from her lived her very good friend Chi Chi and her own family. West city had just woken up, the sun had started to shine over the large city as people started to wake up and get on with their daily lives. Bulma had gotten up and started to get stuff ready for whatever she needed it for. Meanwhile, a young woman was walking along the street. Her long brown hair was done in two braids with some feathers coming from her hair as she was dressed in tight jeans that hugged her hips, along with a tight shirt that was slightly undone. She wore shoes as she walked along the street. This young woman was Melody, new to West City as she had walked along just going where her feet took her. She was here for a tournament that was going to be in West City in the next few days as she smiled listening to her music.

As Bulma was preparing for her day, a figure stepped up behind her. Strong arms wrapped around her waist as his hands moved up to her breasts, squeezing them through her top as a tongue assailed her neck, moving up and down and painting it like a brush on canvas. "Good morning, beautiful..." a hot voice entered her ear, it wasn't the voice of her husband, but her lover...Satoshi. They had been having an affair for a while now and Satoshi began to press his large bulge up against her rear. "How are you doing this morning?" he asked her with a chuckle. Vegeta was flying around the city, looking for something to do when he sensed a familiar power level. He knew it was Melody, he had met her at a tournament not too long ago and had gotten along very well. So well that they ended up fucking each other in the woods near by. He flew to her and landed in front of her, smirking as he eyed her."Well, well...I didn't expect to see you again," he said with a chuckle as he waited to see her reaction.

Many do not remember the dark days, before the time of Zeref the dark wizard or the fearsome dragon Archegolia. Lost to the slow decay of time there was once a period where mankind was not at the top of the foodchain. A mansion was currently lit ablaze as various wizards clad in dark robes were about killing any they found and destroying all in their path. A blood red skull badge keeping their cloaks pinned in place. A time where man was at war with an inhuman force. "There is one fleeing into the crypts! Stop her!" a dark wizard shouted as a figure was seen forcing the gates open and hurrying inside to safety. A time where man needed an inhuman force to defeat it. Panicked footsteps moved down the stairs as the black key dangled around the neck of a 12-year-old girl. The sounds of her pursuers not far behind. Listen to me, my dear daughter. Here on my death bed heed my final words. Should this day I speak of ever come. When all light is gone, the hour is at its darkest, when there is no hope for your survival. Enter the lowest chamber within the family crypts. Reaching the bottom of the steps, the girl entered a large chamber with only one item present: a large black coffin with multiple chains wrapped around it and a large padlock in the center. There resides our family's greatest secret and the key to your salvation. The words her father spoke of a year ago would ring through her mind as the sound of the attackers drew close. If this young woman chose to heed her father's final words she must open the coffin before it was too late.

A quick glance over the shoulder revealed a pair of blue eyes, wide and fearful. Pieces of gold fell against the girl's pale cheeks, having escaped her twin pigtails. Daddy... I'm scared...Genesis shoved her tiny body against the gate and, with a groan of protest, it opened just enough to let her through. A mansion -her home- was lit ablaze... destroying everything she knows, everything the little girl cares about. Her parents didn't die that way, no, she knows better... but she cannot help hoping they are alive somehow, and have managed to escape. Fear pounded in her chest, urging the poor girl on. A black key dangled around her neck, bouncing with her every step. Genesis reached a hand up, gripping onto it as she began running down the stairs. Should this day I speak of ever come when all light is gone, the hour is at its darkest she repeated under her breath, reciting from memory the words Father said nearly a year ago. When there is no hope for my survival Enter the lowest chamber within the family crypts Genesis slipped into a large chamber, the only thing present being a large black coffin. Her fingers gripped tighter onto the key. This has to be itA hand reached out, tracing along a chain.. slowly tracing it to the padlock, which she looked at for a long moment. Of course time is running out, but what could this thing possibly have that will make things all better? Genesis nearly jumped out of her skin as a cry rang out, breaking the silence. Eyes wide, fear once again making her heart beat faster, Genesis looked at the coffin and with a determined set to her lips, she shoved the key into the padlock, twisting it with both hands. Whatever is inside will be unleashed and hopefully, it will be like what Father told her so long ago.

Hunting for heart Katarina & shiny umbrella "A Shiny Umbrella, you say? You could fetch tons for something like that. Maybe hand it over to the Boss for a promotion!" "Now why would I do that?" the redhead refuted her fellow admin in the lounge of the Team Rocket base. Word had already spread in the entire hideout of Katarina's catch of the day and many had already pestered her about seeing the Pokboy in the flesh, much to her annoyance. The other admins, envious of her spoils, had also attempted all they could to convince her that handing the Umbrella over to the Boss would be a wiser idea. As if. Katarina had never been the type of associate to kiss ass. She was more invested in her personal success than Team Rocket's, treating the latter as a quick, but stable way for cash flow. Her passion lied in poaching, though, and her sport made her name infamous among trainers and tempting among clients. Katarina seldom brought trophies home, but when she did, it was usually worth it. The poacher had been out that evening and came upon an ambitious trainer who challenged her to a battle, claiming she had a "secret weapon" up her sleeve. One by one, Katarina's Zoroark, an exotic Cowgirl herself, practically mowed down her opponent's roster, right down to her last Pokemon. When her opponent revealed the last card up her sleeve, the Shiny Umbreon, she knew she had to have it for herself. Team Rocket had never played fair and the organization's selfish methods of creating a Pokemon army came in handy when they invented contraptions like Dark Balls specially designed to steal owned Pokmon. They were scarce and high in demand in the ranks, but Katarina had a couple, just for these occasions. The devastated trainer, beaten and vulnerable with no able-bodied Pokmon in her roster, watched in horror as Katarina seized the Umbrella for her own. He was hers, now. Not Team Rocket's. Hers. "Have you released him yet?" the nosy admin asked her, his eyes twinkling. Katarina retrieved the Dark Ball from her belt and tossed it lightly onto the ground. She hadn't bothered to heal him yet, so she wasn't worried that he would lash out, especially not with another admin and two of her Pokemon present in the lounge. One long leg crossed over the other as she watched his form materialize in front of her. "Won't you greet your new mistress?" she ordered coyly, also proud to present her new catch to her fellow admin.

The eagerly anticipated Shiny Umbreon materialized tall and proud, intelligent aureates scanning around in cold ire, thin lips curling into a faint sneer. Unlike many Pokboys new to civilization and human ownership, the Umbreon's outfit indicated familiarity with human customs. His jacket was nearly skin-tight, black paneled with gray and decorated with ruffles and a zigzagged string. One hand gloved, the other left bare, a touch of edgy mirrored by the single streak of dyed hair. Fitted falcon jeans were tucked into steel-toed boots ending just below the knee. He could have passed for an immaculately dressed pop singer, had it not been for the glimmering bands of cobalt on his thighs and shoulder, the small of his back, and, of course, ringing his flattened ear and faintly bristling tail. He was not badly injured from the events prior, a slim cut on his cheek from flying debris and bruises lining his forearms constituted the extent of his injuries. But he was exhausted. Despite his rolled back shoulder and upturned chin, his fatigue was obvious in his matted bangs and the way standing seemed to take great effort. The Pok battle had taken whatever energy he had remaining; even his tail seemed to droop as he ascertained his surroundings with feigned bravado. In a way, Pokboys were not unlike succubi; wild Pokboys did not require sexual essence to live, but they grew strongest under loving attention and care. The capacities of a feral Pokboy versus that of one raised by a diligent trainer are as different as night and day. And though this Umbreon was obviously previously owned, an experienced trainer could easily deduce a lack of care from his quick exhaustion and slow recovery. Molten golds darted around, taking in his unfamiliar surroundings. He recognized the self-assured female trainer from the previous battle, but the rest of the battle seemed a blur. His eyes lingered on the unfamiliar Pokball; it wasn't the home he was used to, and yet appeared to be his new lodgings. His eyes narrowed in a cross between unease and aggression as he spotted the Zoroark standing just behind. It disgusted him the ease with which the clearly well cared for Pokgirl wiped the floor with him. He wasn't weak...he wasn't...but his tragic history of being shuttled from collector to collector and finally to an abusive trainer had taken a toll on both his psyche and strength. When he was young, his coloration had been a source of pride, but now he couldn't help but see it as a curse. When the request came, he hesitated. He knew well that despite the phrasing, it was a command, and from experience, refusing those always led to very bad things. But while he wanted to shirk before the confident human, to run, he knew he wouldn't get far with two well-trained and alert Pokmons in the room. "My name's Kaine," he grumbled under his breath, casting a leery gaze at the seated woman. Another pause before he added, voice barely above a reluctant whisper. "...mistress.

First thing in the morning, Professor Archon had to teach third-year potions. Granted, he made his schedule, and it wasn't as if he were going to sleep in at all. When he did sleep, it was never for very long. There was research to do and potions to brew. Well, a rhyme. He claimed to be many things, but a poet was not one of them. He was a renowned Potions Master and wizard, a highly-regarded magical theorist, and one of the more well-liked professors at Hogwarts. Or, at least, so it seemed to him. But who really knew. He was Head of Slytherin House, so often he was more proud and full of himself than was reasonable. Nonetheless, a great deal of students took his Magical Theory classes. And those classes were not easy at all. Almost. He unlatched the door to allow the students in, stepping away to his desk, eyes watching them as they filed past his raised lab table. "Good morning. Find a place to sit, you know by now that I don't care where that is. If you think you need a lab partner, sit at a table with them. If you think you can make it in third year without one, take a chance, sit by yourself, and best of luck to you. You know me well enough to know I won't go easy on you for being brave." He slipped off the outer cloak of his robes, revealing a more fitted set of garments underneath. His arms were wrapped with black cloth, and a fairly fitted black shirt covered his torso. His pants were just as black, but fairly unremarkable. He could have passed for almost normal in the Muggle world, save for the silver belt around his waist. It was about an inch thick, with a silver clasp on the front, and each panel of the belt was inscribed with a different rune. It shimmered in the pale green light that lit the potions room. "Are there any questions before we begin? Most of you should know my class and how I operate by now. I'm not going to waste any of our time with that sort of first-day babble when we could be brewing potions. Or attempting to brew potions, for the less talented." He said, the faintest hint of a smirk playing across his lips.

Holiday had to admit, she didn't think she would be so lucky as to have Potions on the first day of classes. Most Gryffindors hated Potions; Professor Archon is a renowned Potions Master and Wizard, and he isn't exactly kind when it comes to delivering homework. Perfection is an expectation, and anything less will earn you a failing grade. No, it would probably earn you homework that not even a Seventh Year could finish. Snippets of conversation filled the air, and Holiday kept off to the side, waiting for the door to be unlatched. Fiery red hair tumbled against her features, tones of ivory, bronze, copper, and more bringing out the captivating green of her eyes. Being tall and slender, Holiday was the envy of any Gryffindor, first or Seventh year, and the envy of the Slytherins, though none would admit such a thing. Good morning. Find a place to sit, you know by now that I don't care where that is. If you think you need a lab partner, sit at a table with them. If you think you can make it in third year without one, take a chance, sit by yourself, and best of luck to you. Blue, green, and brown eyes exchanged nervous glances, and Holiday had to bite back a laugh. Those bewitching green eyes moved on, and Holiday followed her classmates into the room, robes flowing about her slender, curvy frame. What with high, defined cheeks, a proud, aristocratic nose, and a smile that inflames the imagination, it is a wonder no one has honestly said they are dating the Gryffindor. A couple males glanced over in her direction, clearly appreciating the curves hidden underneath those robes and also clearly imagining what else is hiding underneath. Taking a seat towards the middle, Holiday sat down, one leg crossing over the other revealing hints of a long, slender leg. Good morning to you too, Professor Archon, Holiday greeted, offering him a smile. How was your summer? Professor Archon was not one for idle chit-chat, Holiday knew that much for certain, but she was curious and well, she had to admit, he's hot for a teacher. If he was just a couple years younger, she would probably ask him out on a date okay, most likely, not probably. Resting her chin in the palm of a hand, Holidays smile took on a cheeky quality, all while fiery red fell against mesmerizing green.

Yuffie Kisaragi was no stranger to sneaking around a place. Materia were EVERYWHERE if you knew where to look for it... and boy did she know where to go! There were all types of dungeons across this world, dangerous places where magic pooled and Materia formed. And so here she was, sneaking around an old cave system. It had been inhabited by years by banditry, other criminals, and monsters on top of everything else, so it behooved the young thief to keep her head down. She slung herself off of a rocky precipice down to the cavern floor below, eyes shooting quickly to the left and then to the right. Perfect. She skulked over to the pool from which the Materia sprang. It would be harvested in some hours by the locals for sale, but not if she beat them to it. She wrapped her fingers around it and, for safekeeping, she equipped it. Less than perfect. The effects took place immediately, there being no great way to tell what lay within a Materia before someone equipped them. She felt warm immediately and more than that... her top grew tighter, warm flesh expanding to fill that tight sweater top, causing some to slip out beneath and give a tantalizing shot of underboob. She fell to her knees, gasping and trying desperately to unequip the Materia.

The process that made Materia was one which was strange and unique, and no one could predict the effect that any one might have. How this particular Materia had been formed and why it had these particular qualities in the first place was anyone's guess, but now was not the time to dwell on that as Yuffie tried to remove it, to negate the body altering properties that had kicked in when it had been equipped. Nonetheless, her change in breast size was not the only effect that it would have, with one additional problem that she would be unaware of at the moment. The heat she felt was far from natural, as her body went into overdrive, producing pheromones that would lay a tantalizing scent upon the air, drawing in all who smelled them towards the currently panicking ninja. At the same time her struggle to try and remove the Materia had its own consequences in turn. She had known well enough that she wasn't alone in this place, and the distraction at hand didn't help her in avoiding those dangers which hadn't vanished simply because she had reached her destination. Those she was probably a bit too busy with her more immediate problems to consider that. It would prove a mistake though as a voice rang out. "Well well, what do we have here?" The voice belonged to a man, one of a trio that strode into the cave, nearing Yuffie. They were bandits, and outfitted as such, with scavenged armor and stolen equipment. Nonetheless, they were tough, and they knew what they were doing. It did not make for a good situation, that was for sure, as they stepped towards her, blades at the ready. "Looks like a rat was trying to steal our Materia," the taller one of the three growled. "We should teach her a lesson." There was no argument there, for sure. Yuffie would have to act quickly, if she didn't want to fall afoul of the bandits wrath.

It was inevitable in a place such as Soul Society - desperate struggles were had, blood was shed, and people got hurt. This applied even to the captains, the foremost combatants of Soul Society, and it seemed to apply -- with distressing regularity -- to Toshiro Hitsugaya. Perhaps it was a function of age or relative inexperience, or perhaps just because he couldn't control his Bankai perfectly, but he did tend to get injured a lot. And so once again he was waking up in Squad 4's medical facilities. The rank of captain afforded him his own room, and he awoke to sunbeams and soft sheets. There was also a dull ache in his hip and a yawning void where his reiatsu should have been. It would come back - he had just overdone it, was all. He pushed himself up into a sitting position, sheets falling to reveal the impressively developed musculature, marred only by the bandages wrapped around his lower abdomen. He gripped his head and muttered something low under his breath. "... need to get out of here," he said, and moved to do just that.

The door opened abruptly to reveal a figure that loomed over not only Toshiro (as most people in Soul Society did, in all honesty) but also many other people in the ranks of the Shinigami: Isane Kotetsu, the medic who was most commonly entrusted to the health and well-being of injured or sickly Shinigami. Despite her often absentminded demeanor, she was perhaps the best cut out for the job. "A-ah, Captain please, don't strain yourself!" The silver-haired woman hurried over and gently placed her hands on his shoulders, gently guiding him back until he had his back pressed to his pillows. In the process she bent over a bit, giving him just the barest glimpse of the cleavage inside her dark robes. She wasn't quite as stacked as Matsumoto (who was?) but the medic had quite the impressive bosom all the same, and she had very nearly planted it in front of Toshiro's face. "I know you're eager to get back into the field, and that's very admirable, but in this state you'll only hurt yourself further or... or worse..." she didn't dare finish the sentence, but the implication was obvious. Going into battle in his state would have a single outcome. "So... please, just rest here for a few days.

Halloween night on a weekend, the air was cool and calm, and a party was the main word of the town. The raucous sounds of music filled the night air and the general 'whoops' and cheers of the partygoers broke any quiet portions between songs. The streets were empty, though the roadside was full of parked cars and bikes. There were students and adults alike drinking together in front of the house, some wandering into the back. Police hadn't yet been called, and since most of the neighborhood was at the party it was likely they wouldn't be showing up. Even if they did, it seemed unlikely that a warning would do much to quell the party. The various members seemed to be having the time of their lives, the costumes varying from silly to obscene. The night was young, and it seemed that if anyone wasn't at the party, then they weren't going to be having an exciting night at all.

Alice was on her way to the party. She thought an ironic costume would be fun this year, so she'd dressed up as the Lewis Carroll version of herself. That said, there was nothing that said she had to look any less hot than she might have at a normal party, and Halloween gave her an excuse to get even more dolled up....and just a little sexier than she might normally be. So this year, she was sexy Alice on her way to the party--her own personal Wonderland. The natural blonde had curled her hair and put a blue bow in it, happy to see it complete the look. Her blue eyes had just a touch of smokey eye make-up, her gloss was pink and shiny, but the rest of her make-up was light and natural. She wore fake pearl earrings, too, just for an extra touch of fun. The costume itself was short, frilly, and sweet--traditional blue, too. She was normally a college student, but tonight, she was a famous character who'd followed a white rabbit into a crazy world of imagination. When she was satisfied that she looked as good as she was going to look for the evening, she smiled and got ready to go. She put on her high heels and grabbed a little purse with her ID, some money, and a few other odds and ends she thought she might need, and headed out the door toward the party. She could hear the music pounding as she came closer. She waved at other partygoers she passed on their way in and blew kisses to a few of her friends who had whistled at her. This was going to be a good night and a great party.

Kakashi's eyes slowly began to open, the light of the sun causing him to groan as he strained to keep his eyes shut. He tried to remember what happened. He remembered going on a mission to the Rain Village and then a big fight...he managed to drag himself to the entrance of Konoha and then it all went back. As he groaned and opened his eyes again, he looked around to see where he was. It was a recognizable place, the hospital, in the same bed he always ended up in. He let out a sigh as he looked to the table beside him. A lovely vase of sakura flowers were in full bloom next to a picture of his old squad. He smiled as he remembered the days with his little shinobi, fresh out of the academy. Now they had grown up. Naruto had returned from training with Jiraya, Sasuke had gone rogue to hunt his brother....and Sakura...He blushed slightly when he thought of the girl and their...relationship. He reached down to find his ero novel that he always read and paged to where he left off as he tried to take his mind off the beautiful young woman.

Years under Tsunade's training made her strong - whenever she looked back at where she'd started, Sakura felt incredibly proud. With Sasuke and Naruto gone, the only solace she found was working hard each day. That, and the arms of her once sensei, even if it was a secret everyone knew. Although no one ever spoke about them, Sakura was aware pretty much everyone in Konoha had acknowledged the fact of something dodgy going on between a teacher and a student. It did bother her at first, but just like everything else, she overcame it. However, with Naruto's return, she decided it would be wiser to be careful. Being a med-ninja helped her with it. At least it didn't look suspicious that she spent hours taking care of him from the moment Kakashi was brought to the hospital the other week. Sighing, she opened the door of the hospital room with her foot as in her hands Sakura held a tray with a basin of water. She stopped the moment she realized he was awake. Then, a moment later, slowly walked in, letting the door close behind her. "Good morning." Kunoichi smiled, placing the tray down. "How are you feeling?

Emily Ratajkowski was a 24-year-old model, a very new and upcoming female figure in the entertainment world. But the Californian hottie was recently instructed by her mother to fly all the way to Texas to take care of her grandfather. She hadn't seen him for years and her mother said that after a fall last month, he needed someone to take care of him. Emily had tried reasoning with her mother, she didn't want any of this at all, as it would literally put her career on hold. But her mother demanded that she do it. They had tried hiring multiple caregivers for him but all of them quit after a week or so. She had just gotten off the taxi and was taking her bags out of the car boot. Pulling her bag along, she knocked on the door. "Grandpa! It's me, Emily. Hello, anyone there?" She sighed as she looked at the deplorable condition of the home. She was dressed in a one-piece with no bra on.

Curtis Smith groaned softly as his nap was ruined, hearing the calling out of a young woman. The 82-year-old man sighed, looking down at his naked body which was lying on top of his bed, no sheets covering him at all. A light layer of sweat covered his wrinkled body, due to the effort it took for him to move. "In here," he replied loudly, struggling to sit up. From the angle she would have when she walked in, Emily would find herself standing between her grandfather's legs, seeing his fairly impressive cock, extremely hairy balls, and even his hairy ass crack. She would see it immediately upon entering the room, without having the chance to look away. "Oh, you're my new caretaker then?" he asked, looking at her. His glasses were on a bedside table, so he did not recognise her as his granddaughter. "C'mon then, help me into the shower. I'm all sweaty," he told her, his tone slightly rough and rude.

The night was cold, but nothing a man like Wade couldn't handle. Looking up, he could see the full moon, an ominous sign, and looking down, he could see her... in the window. His target, his ticket to a new paycheck. A smirk escaped his lips as he lay back on the cold wet rooftop. His voice louder than ever. He could barely make out much, but soon clarity became possible enough for a conversation. "She is sooo fucking fine," a voice said in his head, understatement of the century one might say. She was.... Gorgeous! With long legs, fair skin, brown hair, a tight frame that rivals most models... and those eyes! Multi-colored and vibrant, a beautiful gaze that melts your heart in an instant! Much can be said, for the list goes on and on. And it may just be endearing, if not for the creepy fact that Deadpool was simultaneously thinking of performing a certain act on her. "Wo! Narrator. Think of the children. I think my perverse thoughts should stay my own, don't you?"... Ya, I... I can hardly argue.... "Well, then move on. But without describing my... Oh ho ho, uh, vivid imagination." Yes... Yes... Any way! As he began to put his sniper rifle together, his voices continued their little conversation. It's progression resulting in an almost predictable but, honestly non-arguable way.'But she is our target. She is worth 3 million dollars simply dead, double if alive... No one worth that much is any good, or worth the effort... Right...?''Well, fuck that. We don't know? So why snipe her? Make it personal. Maybe, if we get some context... We can help her!'"Help her? The fuck?! Why help her?" 'Think about it. If she is actually in need of help. We can use that, get some of that sweet tail.''Well, other then that... It's always nice to be on the right side of the moral line.''See, even smart voice thinks I got something here.''It's half a thought, you hardly have anything. However, I think that's good enough for us to at least try.' "Fine!"He said, as he flipped back and landed on his feet."We are going right in there!"'Ya!'Deadpool spoke as he began to pace back and forth along the roof top."We are going to size her up, see whats what and possibly.... Hopefully! No absolutely! Get in that butt."'Right on! Liking the plan.''I must say that I am excited myself.'As wade walked a fair distance from the roof's edge, he spoke once more. However, it's stupidity was so profound. That even one voice in his head was able to know it was really dumb. "And im going right through that window!"'Ya!- No! no! no! Don't do-'And before his thought bubble can truly object, he had a running start. Jumping from the side of the roof, and flying into the window in the lower floor of the building across from him. Glass shatter's, and sparkles in the dim light of the moon, as the ominous figure roll's into the living room. Landing in a crouched position. Standing up, he was well within plain view of the women. Watching him from her bedroom. He faced her, seeing that certainly she must be in shock. With an intense look in his eye he stared her down in the darkness of the apartment. Observing her in a manner that seemed methodical, calculated. When in reality he was starring at her amaaaazing figure. He fought just to not have stone cutting hard wood right then and there! Especially as he seemed to have caught her in a, well, compromising attire. Promiscuous, to say the least. But soon his tense stature and intense stare wavered, his ADD taking full effect."Oh! What a nice apartment! Mine is just plain out crap. But this is pretty charming. Not as big but lots of personality. Though, needs more unicorns don't you think? Or, huh! Maybe a uni-lion? How about that. How are you by the way?"... Crickets could practically chirp in that very moment, and would do nothing for the awkward silence.'Wow, quite the charmer I see.'Ya, nice work Smooth mcgroove, I bet she's all wet for the man breaking in to give her decoration praise. Maybe if she starts getting fashion advice from the scarred creep in a black and red leotard she will have nipples hard as a snow storm.'"Shut up.... I swear im better at this, I just got a bit nervous in the moment."He whispered towards the voices in his head. He was embarrassed enough and didn't need the ridicule to boot! But all that served was looking more crazy, as he called out to the silence to shut up."Ok I went about this all wrong..."'Ya think.'"Allow me to start this over, kay? Hi, I am Deadpool. And I am an assassin that came for your head."'Oh ya that's what she wants to hear. Now you have her swooning in your arms over a loss of her own HEAD!'" T_T We were totes going to get laid, now we're creeps.'"B-But I don't want to! Because you really hot. And I want to do ya... I mean, because I want to make sure I ain't killing an innocent. Ya that's it... Because you don't seem like some supervillian. You aren't a supervillian right? No ray guns or anything?"Meanwhile.... "It's unfortunate that Doctor Garret had to be disposed of. His expertise would have been invaluable for my project." A distorted voice spoke out. Wilson Fisk leaned back in his desk chair, hands promptly placed on his desk. "You mean, our project. Need I remind you of my funding?" The Kingpin spoke in a clear, concise, business-like fashion, but it was still in a threatening manner. One that demanded authority, attention, respect... fear. "Yes, ... Uhem... Yes Mr.Fisk," the distorted voice said sheepishly, his fear evident even through a conference call. Smiling, Wilson continued with their conversation. "Now, it was an unfortunate fate, Dr Garret simply refused to see reason. And paid the price for insulting the integrity of my personal character. However this is not a setback." Wilson said matter-of-factly, standing from his chair to peer out his window at the city of New York, beautiful from the heights of his office. "Will she be?" "She's being disposed of as we speak. I hired a suitable assassin... I've seen much of his skill, further he's quite natural at playing the stooge. I ensure you, with him nothing will come back on us. In any event, he will get the job done." And, in the highly unlikely event that whoever she works for kills my assassin, I have the price on her head currently going through the grapevine. It will be a shock if any mercenary in the country doesn't hear of it." The sinister voice from the call hums slightly to himself. Thinking carefully before he questions his business partner. "Why is it so unlikely?" the voice asks. "Well, he can heal from any wound," Wilson says with a chuckle. A gasped croak comes from the other end, perhaps choking on his drink? "Ack... Ack...What the hell! Don't tell me you hired Deadpool?" Almost worried, Wilson turns from his spot to face the phone on his desk. "Yes, he is not the most qualified. But as I stated he lacks any knowledge of us or our plans. All he knows is a target, a phone, and a drop off point. Further he is a ignoramus, a perfect stooge... Why, have you heard of him?" The voice on the other end sounds almost in undeniable rage. "H-Heard of him! He is the biggest oaf in the entire world! A laughing stock. He has thwarted me with the X men numerous times! A mercenary he may be, but he is a failure as one. Playing hero in the flip of a coin.... We must take care of this soon. Perhaps Deadpool will do his job, then again perhaps he won't. This makes him a liability. He will turn on you, for nothing more than the assumption that she will repay him sexually." With a sigh, Fisk walks back over to his desk. "I will try and trust your judgement," he says, turning to face the voice on the other end of the phone. "My own man will personally see to it that she dies. I would rather this have been done quietly, but it would seem I am left with little choice. Just know, never speak of me with such irreverence again." Before the voice can respond, Fisk's fist slams down onto the phone, crushing it under his outrage. Speaking in anger, Fisk calls out to the man who lurks in the shadows of his office. "The fool will soon outlast his usefulness, Bull's Eye," he says. "And when he does, see to it he is dead." Walking from the shadows, Bull's Eye juggles a dart between his fingers. "I'd enjoy that," he says, nodding at the mention of Deadpool. "How about this situation with Deadpool? To be honest, he won't die but I'd be happy pinning him to a wall. Maybe make him watch me gut her. Guys a prick, be fun to watch 'em squirm." The kingpin rubs his hand along his bald head. "Yes, go, but don't play any games. Just get around Deadpool and kill her...

My face was plastered on a billboard nearly every second street on New York City. As the latest Playboy hit and first model to keep her clothes on for their social media campaign, I was a growing success. From swimsuit and underwear modeling to a giant poster of me in lingerie - I was everywhere. Even on the side building of a grocery store, advertising a beach clothing company, conveniently eating fresh fruit. It was enough media spotlight to catch the attention of a very wealthy man, Wilson Fisk. My, my. Fisk looked over my body and my face with absolutely no transparency. It was a look I was all too used to. Even the most devoted and loyal of husbands always seemed to comment one way or another on my appearance. My eyes were undeniably noticeable. That was something I grew to accept and embrace in my modelling career. A leading supermodel, indeed. A vision. He smiled, trying to charm his way into my mind as we unfolded his arm to gesture me to sit at the table before him. We were in a high-status restaurant and the place was empty; like Fisk had rented the whole place out. My agent seemed confident in Fisk's intentions, and offered me a meeting one-on-one with Fisk to discuss the contract. However, this was more of a one-on-one plus a dozen bodyguards. I wondered why a man needed so much protection. Thank you. I smiled lightly. Although I was nervous, the smile remained genuine. I was just as good of an actress as I was a model so no matter my anxiety in the moment, I appeared calm and collected. My agent, Luis Cortez, he sent me here... on such short notice. Told me you wanted to meet in person. It appears I am grossly underdressed. My eyes gazed around the restaurant. I was simply dressed in casual but stylish ripped jeans and a warm turtleneck sweater. Although I always wore heels, this was very much a 'night out shopping' sort of look. Was there something wrong with the contract? There was silence as Fisk stared at me, with nothing but a nauseating smile. "No," he finally admitted. "Contract is fine. I'm a big fan of yours." I stared back at him, pretending to be content, although I was suspicious. There seemed to be an eerie feel in the air and I couldn't help but feel like the eyes of the bodyguards were burning into the back of my head. Maya Myers. Fisk rolled my name off his tongue. It's got a nice ring to it. "Yes," I smiled, chuckling softly. "My parents thought so too." Trying to be cheeky, I received no reaction from Fisk except for a dead-pan stare. At the snap of his fingers, a waiter came over with a covered tray. The waiter placed the plate on the table before us and then lifted the lid to reveal an assortment of foreign sweets. My eyes widened slightly at the sight of the mound of Turkish Delights on the plate. This, surely, was not a Turkish restaurant. And in the middle of Hell's Kitchen, I wondered where the hell did Fisk get his hands on that. He smiled bigger at the look in my eyes. "Rahat lokum," he said. Also known as Turkish Delights in more western terms. "I did not realize there was a Turkish bakery in Hell's Kitchen," I smiled, trying to keep it together in front of a potentially dangerous man. "I have never tried a Turkish Delight." He chuckled quietly, almost sadistically at me as I said that. "Are you sure about that?" Becoming visibly tense, I moved my jaw slightly to the side, trying to interpret this scenario. Because, uhm... He leaned forward slowly, "Your mother had a lot to say about you, Roya Yilmaz." At this moment, all eyes were on me. I glared at Fisk like he was the scum of the earth in this moment. "My mother is dead," I rose from my seat, visibly insulted. "So unless you're clairvoyant who can communicate beyond the grave, our business here is done." Fisk rose right after me, challenging my demeanour with his massive frame. "You're lying." Fisk tried to interrupt, but I wasn't having it. "Sit down." Fisk grunted through his teeth. But at this point, I wasn't intimated any longer. I changed my name to Maya Myers. Ever heard of a stage name? I turned to his guards, giving them the stink eye. "Tell your boys to save their ammo. I'm a Turkish immigrant, not a god damn terrorist." In that moment, looking into his stale eyes, I saw a vivid vision; a prediction of the future. My pupils dilated completely as I saw a horrific scene unfold in my mind. Fisk wasn't some hot shot politician and business man, he was a cold blooded killer. Fisk suddenly changed his behaviour. "I have insulted you," He looked at me now like a puppy with his tail between his legs. "It appears I have made a mistake." I reverted back to reality as if I had seen nothing. Externally, I appeared to be a hot-headed model. But internally, I was panicking. If you have any other requests, you can go through my agent. I stormed for the door, passing the body guards without a single care for what they might do. With my back to him, I put in the last word. Enjoy your Turkish Delights. I scoffed, evidently mocking him as I pushed open the restaurant door and stormed out. The moment I exited the restaurant, I pulled my phone to my ear. "Misyon tehlikeye." I mumbled in another language before quickly hanging up. I gunned it for the nearest taxi, not bothering to even look over my shoulder. I melted into the seat, the sudden urge to vomit hitting hard. "W-wait!" I opened the door again before the taxi could drive off. Leaning out the door, I heaved the contents of my stomach on the sidewalk. Sliding back into the back of the taxi, I took a breath and rolled my head to the back of the seat. "Food poisoning," I falsely pretended as the taxi driver looked at me suspiciously. "48th Street, please." "Shit!" I yelled under my breath, speaking to no one but myself in my small, but lavish, New York apartment. I curled over my bathroom counter, with both hands on either side of the sink as I looked up into the mirror. I stared deeply into my own heterochromic eyes for a second as I frowned. Slamming my hand suddenly onto the ceramic edge, I yelled it again. "Bok, bok, bok!" I repeated, except in Turkish, and not English. My cover had almost been blown with Fisk - and if he was able to dig up information about my real identity, it meant that many other bad people could, too. I not only hated myself for agreeing to model for this notorious man, but also, for following my conscious all the way to his office. Now, not only was I dealing with the devil, but I was meddling with his violent secrets, too. He was on to me, and even worse, I was on to him. With a memory of the murder of Doctor Garret fresh in my mind, this was no longer a vision of the potential future, it was a real live event. 'I should have never gone to his office' I thought to myself, having just witnessed Fisk pummel the medical experts head until it was just play-dough in Fisk's hands. I felt sick just thinking about it. Now, I was involved. REALLY involved - and if I didn't find all the dirt I could possible dig up on Fisk, soon I would be in bigger trouble than I already was. I had to out-hunt the hunter - and that was going to be nearly impossible without turning to my secret Turkish resources. I had come to America to escape my past - but now I realized, I had just traded one hell for another. Taking a deep breath, I ran my fingers through my hair over my head and exited the bathroom. I was dressed in nothing but a white bra and matching lace panties. I had just showered after returning from Fisk's office with a mindful of blood and gore, a queasy stomach, and enough drama and stress to last me a lifetime. Trying to unwind, I wandered into my living room, where I turned on the TV and stood before it; dangling the remote from my fingers. The news seemed to only feature two things - growing ISIS terrorism movement and of course, Wilson Fisk and his leading politics. I sighed, frustrated with the thought of him. I tossed the remote onto my couch and was about to head to the kitchen when suddenly... My big window exploded beside me, sending a wave of glass all over me and my living room floor. I fell to the ground in sheer reaction to the startling bang. Having placed my hand over my face to protect me from flying shards, I slowly lowered it, my breathing heavy as I opened my eyes to face the culprit. There I saw a face I recognized all too easily - that of Deadpool, one of the most feared mercenaries in the country. My stomach sank as my eyes widened. I barely had a moment to vocally react before you were already rambling about the decor in my apartment. In a compromising position, upright sitting on the ground, I grew more and more confused as you spoke. "W-what?" I said softly, trying to figure out if you were being genuine or just pulling my leg. "Unicorns...?" I mumbled, but the thought was just passing as I was suddenly being asked how I was. "Uh..." I stammered, taken aback from the strange display. Before I could register an answer, only two words chimed loudly in my mind: Shut up. Although the silence was not intended for me, it appeared that way in my perspective. Instantly snapping, I growled back at you, "Hey! If you just gave me a second to fit a word in-" But you were still going. Rambling now even more nervously. I arched my eyebrow, leaning back slightly as I slithered my hand discreetly underneath my couch. The moment I heard "assassin" I was ready to reach for my gun and shoot you straight in the head. "I know who you are." I smirked, not at all impressed with this first conversation. "What do you want from me?" I mumbled but instantly received my response. "Do me!?" Now... now I was REALLY pissed. Pulling the gun from the couch, I stealthily rose from the ground and had the 9mm pointed right at your forehead. With only a few feet distance between us, I lowered my brows and grimaced. With a final moment to answer your question, I hissed. "Just a loaded 9 millimeter and a bad temper." Taking a step back, I held the gun with the utmost confidence. "Get out!

Max and Chloe had been living together in California for a few months now, living off of money they both had stashed away, some help from Max's parents, and, of course, work. She had managed to get a few freelance photographer jobs, and was working as a cashier to make sure there was something steady if photography had a gap between earnings. Exhausted from a long day at work, Max was relieved to come home to her girlfriend. Her stomach filled with butterflies every time she thought of that word. It seemed so foreign to her, a thing she had never thought would happen, yet here she was, living with the love of her life. She wouldn't have it any other way. Tossing aside her shoes, Max practically collapsed on the couch beside the blue-haired woman she had fallen for. "Hope you had a better day than I did," she said, smiling slightly. She had felt a lot more irritated about the rude customers she had gotten today before she had gotten home, but now that she was here, so close to Chloe, it didn't matter to her as much. Everything was right in the world.

Life had been... well, strange since Chloe had left Arcadia Bay in her wake, with nothing but her beat up truck and her best friend at her side. Which was ironic, because she imagined that it was even stranger for Max after the horrific experiences she had gone through in an attempt solely to keep her alive. She'd never been so grateful to a single person - Max came back. She swore that her best friend had left her behind, but she came back, found the closure she needed after Rachel vanished, and despite the fact that Max should have given up on her, here they were. California was better than she thought it would be, and she had thought it would be amazing. They had a little apartment of their own and minimum wage jobs to keep them above the water, and honestly Chloe didn't need much else in her life at this point. (Though she could honestly say there were moments where she ached to have her mother back around, despite how volatile their relationship had been towards the end.) Today she had the day off, and she'd spent it lounging on the couch after she went to pick up and grab some groceries. Chloe was finishing off a joint when she heard the door click open, and she dropped it in to an ashtray and shifted her position so she was less strewn out across the length of it and more sitting up. A grin grew on her lips as Max entered the apartment, and as Max collapsed on to the couch Chloe moved in to wrap her arms around the smaller woman's waist. A few months ago she would have never pictured this- Max back in her life, let alone as her girlfriend. She tried to act like she was tough most of the time, but Max made her weak in all the best ways and she wouldn't want it any other way. "Oh? What happened in today's adventure in retail hell?

The dark-haired girl felt her pink nipples harden in the cool air. Soon, the District 12 girl was completely naked along with her lover. Katniss followed Kolton's orders and turned around, placing her hands behind her back. The excitement increased; this was the moment. She would be under his control until he decided to release her from her bonds. As she waited for him to tie her up, she laid her head against the short sheets of the bed. Katniss heard the rumbling of Kolton looking in the drawer before he found what he was looking for. She felt the slightly rough as it connected her wrists behind her back, forcing her to keep her current position. Again, her heartbeat fluttered as she felt her man's hard cock as it rubbed and thrusted against her smooth bare ass. "It feels good, baby," she responded, turning her head slightly. Katniss was truly in Kolton's control. She was his to do as he pleased. She pulled against the ropes but to no gain. She could not move. "Kolton, please, I can't wait any longer..." she begged as he teased her a bit more. In that moment, Katniss could feel her arousal grow between her legs. A gentle wetness as her body prepared her to be fucked by the man she loved. She completely trusted him in her current position because he had all of the power. "I'm ready," she bit her lip as she gently pushed back against him in hopes of having him fuck her raw into the bed.

I bet you're ready, but I'm not quite there yet," Kolton answered with a simple smirk. One thing was missing here, and Kolton couldn't go without it. His right hand grabbed the roll of duct tape, while his left hand ripped off a piece and then pressed it over her mouth. "Close your mouth, Katniss." Kolton ordered in a soft but deep voice. When her lips were shut, he pressed the piece of tape over her mouth, smoothing the corners against her cheeks, and then placing his entire hand over her mouth, pressing down on it some more. My favorite thing about all of this is using a gag," Kolton explained, having found out that most people only used gags as a means to silence someone. The silence wasn't arousing; it was the strained, helpless moans and whimpers that really got him going. "Now, I am ready." Kolton whispered, leaning his head down to press a soft kiss right over the imprint of her lips against the gag. His large hands started kneading the flesh of her large breasts, and he smiled contentedly. Without any further teasing, Kolton slowly slid his thick, large, hard cock inside of Katniss. He was convinced that he had never been so big or so aroused before. This was better than any fantasy he imagined. Slowly, he started a gentle pace where his hips just rubbed against hers, and he thrust back and forth, feeling the rough skin of his member forcing her walls open further and further each time. It might have been a kinky setting, but for now he was making sweet love to Katniss, his fingers and hands still occupied with her breasts.

It had all been a mistake... Cheyenne wasn't quite certain just where everything had gone wrong and was still trying to figure out where her miscalculation was. The Jedi wasn't used to failure, only victory or standstills. She was caught off guard by the fact that she was about to lose, her allies were falling one by one. She had given the signal to retreat back where they had come from, but mines went off, destroying her back line as well. She kept trying to think of other paths out, to bring some sort of victory to the Rebels, to save her comrades! Another blaster fire whizzed by her and she heard the cry of a man fall to the ground, dead. This wasn't how it was supposed to turn out. They encircled her, believing that they could kill her with numbers, she would prove them wrong. She began slicing through their numbers, their army backing up. Maybe there would be a victory in this, if only Cheyenne could get out. Before she could even try to though, the ground shifted from under her unexpectedly and she began to drop. The army stopped firing upon her the moment that it shifted, and that was when Cheyenne suddenly realized what her miscalculation was. It had been her. The army hadn't been put there to kill her Military, they had been there to capture her. It was obvious now since she had fallen for the trap, cut down their pawns, only for them to lead her right into the falling ground and them abruptly stop firing. Who's commands were these though? Who had outsmarted her? A General of the Rebellion who's prestige was renowned through the galaxy... That was it again, she miscalculated herself. She had made her presence known, wanting to mark her victories and take her claim for her wins. It rallied troops around her, but it also held grudges and enemies against her. They knew of her at that point. She had been the mistake. She dropped with a crouch, turning to the presence that she sensed. Deep blue eyes that looked almost green glared in the shadows though she couldn't see. This was the one, he had been the one that had calculated for her to be arrogant enough to keep fighting in the battles, to take arms in the front line even though her presence was well known through the Empire as the Jedi scum that gave them trouble. Lights slowly flicked on, first at her feet and then steadily moving towards the other person in the room. She had been right about her assumption of it being a man - he had been waiting for her. His head was bowed so she could only see the crown of horns upon his head. But as he rose to look at her, smirk at his victory of trapping the Jedi, she could feel the dark side radiating from him. He had been able to cloak himself? Most impressive. Cheyenne sort of recognized him, he had been one of the few that she had tarnished the Empire's plans for. Glaring at him, she ignited her lightsaber and took her stance - she wasn't going down easy if he was going to fight fair.

Coerced into failures of the fleeting past only spiraling indirectly into erupting racially as a Zabrak's known self-assuredness; prompting a berserker physiology oozing complete animalistic fury. Drakron held prestige amongst the elite of the Empire, forgoing the christening names Sith are accustomed towards seizing after the metamorphism. Attunement over one's mental attributes paralleling to the traits strengthening this beast by raw emotion. Deep immersion to the gifts of the dark side were symbolized immeasurably by the trademark corruption of luminous, sulfuric yellow hues tracing over the form of his Jedi prey. A Zabrak nightbrother held no contempt, only acclamation for his origins despite feelings he was taken as some exotic barbarian warrior-slave for the Emperor himself. Neglecting repressed opinions, a barbarous grin psyched for glorious combat listening to the wailing and screams of dead rebels by the cumulative streams of red lasers emitting from E-11 blaster rifles the Stormtroopers fired with reckless abandon. Witnessing the vulnerable surface rattled, he patiently though expressing an virtue even partially associated for placid action was an unfortunate forgery of his intentions for his prey. A stratagem befitting for a formidable force sensitive as herself, Drakron kept his blood lust famished when such subtleties became significant, though to the rebel's fortunes he relied on his own skills versus larger scale skirmishes with complexities involved. An abundance of capable combatants from both sides of the conflict never beheld a specimen of his stature, towering warriors with an staggering height of seven feet tall with protruding obsidian colored horns fashioned like a crown secured over the dark brown complexion harmonizing with the motif of sheer terror masked with blackened tribal tattoos of the planet Dathomir amplified further by highlighting the tattoos with red scarfication marks adorned in his perverse version of glory and perhaps a hint of masochism. Shirtless with armor allocating near the Cestus like gloves, bracers, even braces near the dark cloth of his pants, he represented the martial warrior of the ancient times. " Decided running not worth dead comrades? " The dilact was chalky in pronouncing words within the confines of comprehend, utilizing the most prevalent of languages known as basic or galactic standard. Brawny, infused by the passion of a challenge and other horrific imagery amassed in the horned skull of this venomous creature of importance to his military. Cheyenne's lightsaber once conjured painted vivid supposition over the details of past battles. A lightsaber burned marked the left corner of his face where eyebrows would be positioned should his species really bore hair, another greeting flesh through the bicep and an invisible one cloaked by clothing through the right upper thigh. Anxious to test her fighting prowess after an extended vacation away from each other, the Zabrak would finally exact revenge in a style only suitable for his species and the disciplines of the dark side itself. Diverting into a mantra emulating a mirrored sentiment of the former Jedi order, its served for psychological warfare and heightening himself mentally for the duel ready to commence between two practitioners of the force. " Peace is a lie, there is only PASSION!!! Through passion, I gain strength. Through strength, I gain power. Through power, I gain victory. Through victory, my chains are broken. The Force shall free me. " Weight began to distribute between the staggering feet of the martial sith, fixated at width approximately at the shoulder. Aligning them accordingly, she eavesdrop upon these antics prior to combat itself, both feet angled slightly to the side and the knees should be facing in the same direction of the feet; never flatfooted. Hands adhered to about temple level, back slightly hunched, and most important having elbows raised to safeguard the chest. Manufacturing a distinguishing fighting style of unarmed combat with the capabilities of a sith warrior made this brute versatile and incredibly lethal. Muscles swelled, though trained eyes could watch the force manifest throughout his core with controlled breathing. Literally the calm before the blood stained storm, Drakron's hunger gre insatiable the longer he stood composed. Unknowingly this effect struck at a Force-user's energy and metabolism, pulling out all the weapons for the long ride. Assuming the usual stance, his right foot rose above his towering height before slamming his armored boot forward; appearing akin to a blur. Masking telegraphed maneuvers, a powerful current of kinetic energy surging through the might of the sith targeted the midsection, soaring like laser fire and crashing like the fury of a Wookie tackling an adversary. " Peace is a lie, there is only PASSION!!!

Kratos smiled for the first time in a long time as he felt his life fading away. The gods were dead, hope was released into the world, and he had his vengeance on Ares and Zeus. That Athena was angered by being deprived of her weapon was a wonderful bonus; no god would be able to rule over men again. But now, his part was done. He could finally join his wife and daughter in death. He lay back and let death take him. At least he thought death would take him. He felt the warm sun and breeze on his skin. Had he come to Elysium to see his family again? He heard the clang of steel and gradually woke up. He looked around and found himself in a fertile valley. It certainly was not the world ravaged by storms, darkness, plague, blight and flood he had left. He stood up and looked around. Feeling himself draw breath, he realized he was not yet dead. His blades were still attached to his arms. He was definitely on some other world. He headed for the sounds of metal smashing against metal. As he got closer, he realized it was not the sound of some smith working his trade, but a battle between two foes. He heard the grunts of exertion. One sounded male and the other almost female. He jogged towards the sound, his blades firm in his grip. He came to a clearing through some woods and saw a woman dressed in what could only be a warrior's garb and a man in full hoplite armor brawling with each other. He watched them battle and then heard the woman call the armored man "Ares". There was only one person Kratos knew by that name and the garb would befit the god of war, even if he hadn't been so covered when last they met. "Ares! Who has seen fit to give you life again to torment me? Was it Athena? Or is this some plan by Zeus? It matters not! I killed you once, God of War, and I can do it again. Let's finish this!" His blades came up and he lunged at Ares, intent on taking his head off as he shouted a war cry at him.

How was it that this vicious god of war somehow tracked Diana to the land of men? The champion now known to the public as Wonder Woman had thought she'd left that world behind when she'd left her homeland of Themyscira behind. The gods and their followers had been as vibrant as ever in the land of the Amazons. Diana herself bore the blessings of several gods in her armor and her weapons. The very blade she used against Ares now had been forged by gods to be wielded by their divinely appointed champion. Wonder Woman and Ares, god of war, had been fighting above the city for some time. The god had appeared and caused something of a rampage, apparently intent on drawing the princess of the Amazons out into an outright confrontation. The city itself had little in the way of protectors. While capes had begun appearing throughout the world in ever increasing numbers, this particular metropolis hadn't laid claim to any. Diana was merely staying here in a stop-gap as she and her escort traveled through this strange new land and learned of its customs. So naturally the Amazonian princess rose to the occasion. She would have anyway: the thought of getting into a fight, let alone a fight with someone as foul as Ares, aroused great interest in the warrior princess. She had left her island and its comfort for precisely reasons like this. Her muscles rippled in the sunlight, their tanned flesh no doubt drawing many eyes even as she punched or slashed at her godly foe. Wonder Woman looked every inch the mythological figure she represented. Flowing ebony hair had been tied back into a warrior's tail that extended to a bottom so round and firm that it looked capable of crushing coal into diamond. That hair framed a face that appeared blessed by Aphrodite herself, from finely sculpted features to piercing blue eyes to the plump lips that now curved in a fierce joy and ferocity. The light outfit of blue, white, and red covered her lithe body well, accentuating her femininity. This was, of course, the point. Let the enemy be distracted by Wonder Woman's female form, right up until she drove her fist into their faces. True, it did mean displaying a fair amount of leg and thigh, though her boots climbed over her knees anyway, but Wonder Woman hardly cared. The fabric alone would deflect most blows, and her blessed bracers would handle the rest. Wonder Woman looked every inch the superheroine as she fought Ares. And now she had to back away as a fierce warrior appeared seemingly out of no where. Wonder Woman watched as Ares barely jerked a weapon up in time to deflect the fierce warrior's attack. A flash of seeming recognition twisted that face, drawing a barked laugh from Wonder Woman. "Aha, so it appears that another enemy of yours has appeared. You will meet your end this day, Ares," she brandished her weapon again, but Ares had already started to shift, obviously intent on drawing this newcomer into a direct battle. He'd been wounded some by Diana already, as she had a few scrapes and blows of her own. Still, he moved well, obviously ready to fight off this newcomer. "You stink of fear, god," barked Wonder Woman, shifting from sword to lasso, figuring that range and reducing the number of blades in the fray would be best. Maybe her new ally could distract the god of war further...

The Purpose of This Thread: ClearSight and Javorcek have short attention spans. They've made many, many threads, and many, many characters together. Sometimes they would like to go back and play with old characters and old stories, but can't because then the old plots wouldn't make sense. In order to keep the story lines of those threads linear, rather than creating a cluster fuck of randomness, they're going to post flashbacks/plot jumps and all sorts of random encounters/one-shots/things in here. The Golden Rule: ClearSight and Javorcek HAVE TO finish the current scene before moving onto the next one. Universes we will be dabbling in: Mass Effect The 100 Characters of our own creation that have been established and will be returning: War and Greed Tragedy Unfolds An Even More Psychotic Biotic Hope she's home for once...Jack mused to herself as she got off the elevator that was taking her to the high rise apartment that she was sharing with Miranda Lawson. They weren't -really- living together...Jack still had her quarters down at the Alliance section of the Citadel, but Miranda's space was bigger, Jack didn't have much in the way of personal belongings, and the young biotic's pet varren, Eezo, liked this apartment more...there were way more shoes to chew on here than at Jack's. Plus, Miranda was hardly ever home, so it wasn't like they were inconveniencing her. The older biotic was always down in the Research Labs, working on the Crucible that was supposed to be the answer to the Reaper War. She worked long hours, longer than even Jack did, and seemed to like to come home to leftovers of whatever Jack had made and the young biotic sleeping in a bed that was nice and warm for her. When Jack entered the apartment and didn't get her ass floored by a very excited varren, she started to grow concerned. "Miri? Eezo?" The young biotic called. Eezo hadn't eaten her girlfriend...had he? Yeah, he played rough with Miranda, sometimes put her in a singularity field, one time bit her so bad that they had actually had to go to the hospital (but that had been when he first met Miranda), but he wouldn't just maul her to death... Miranda pissed her off too sometimes, but the Cheerleader was still intact and Jack had an even shorter temper than her pet varren. Guess they're out playing...That thought seemed less probable than the one of Miranda and Eezo killing eachother, but it was the only one that made even a little bit of sense. "Guess I'll go shower..." Jack muttered to herself as she took off her combat boots and then traveled further into the apartment. She lit up the Omnitool on her wrist along the way, just to double check her messages to see if Miranda had said where she had gone and taken Eezo.

Miranda knew a lot of people, and one of those individuals was quite powerful, Tevos. At one point they had been enemies of sorts, pitted against each other in backdoor dealings Miranda had often taken charge of as part of Cerberus. After changing allegiances Miranda found herself on more common ground with the woman and they would often meet to discuss things they couldn't share with other company. They weren't exactly friends, Miranda didn't make many of those, but they were convenient sounding boards, occasionally they worked together, and just once they found themselves sharing a bed, but that had been before Jack and her separation from Cerberus, a night after too many drinks and some lip... Guh, Miranda hated thinking about the few times she lost control, but it had still been Tevos who made the first move. It was before their serious romances however, and that was far behind them, far enough that the last time they drank together it had become a rather childish, my girlfriend is more dominant than yours thing. Jack against Aria, it really was quite the comparison. Powerful, young, dominant Jack against experienced, sadistic, and clever Aria. Even Miranda wasn't sure which one would win, but she had insisted it was Jack no matter what. What Miranda hadn't expected, was opening up her door a few days later and being slammed against a wall by powerful biotics - a smirking Aria and calm Tevos in front of her. Even Eezo was subdued, being put in a back room by Aria while Tevos nipped at Miranda's ear, a gentle "We'll see who's more powerful..." Miranda growled, absolutely furious, she hated being taken advantage of and barely stood for it with Jack, because of love, but with Tevos and Aria, she was glaring and angry, angry enough to act if she found an opportunity, but it was one that never came. "Don't, unless you want me to be rough with the sapling when she gets here." Aria gave her a glare that drove home the meaning, threatening harm to Jack in order to keep Miranda in line... There were only two people she would put her pride aside for... Her sister, and Jack. Jack... Maybe she would have a chance when her lover got home, Jack wouldn't go down without a fight after all. Tevos had other plans however, turning Miranda around and pulling her hands to her back, moments later a click of cuffs being placed around her making Miranda turn her head with fire in her eyes. "Just in case, I would hate for you to do something silly. Besides, I still owe you for that one night..." Tevos was always composed, calm beyond measure, and it made it difficult to read her. Aria was much easier to read, grinning as she looked over and watched as Tevos secured Miranda, licking her lips as Tevos' hand brushed across Miranda's delicious curves. Miranda Lawson - a gorgeous whore if ever she had seen one. She had thoughts about her when they first met, if not for Shepard and Miranda having use she may have tried something... She never liked Cerberus, reason enough to try. So the moment Tevos had told her about the conversation between herself and Miranda, Aria had been intrigued... Mainly because nobody was going to be more dominant than her, but also because Miranda and Jack were both... Rare women, enough to inspire quite appetite for the Ruler of Omega. "Tevos... Go play with her on the bed, when Jack comes in and sees her being toyed with I'm sure she won't be expecting me." Aria grinned, excited and arrogant, but not stupid, an element of surprise was only smart with a psychotic biotic that rivaled herself... In both power and insanity.

SamWinchester swallowed thickly as he eased around the corner in the warehouse, tense and unhappy to be hunting vampires after dark, but sometimes there was no choice. Not if they wanted to save the victim they knew they had. He disliked it even more knowing that they'd caught this case, so soon after gaining the mark of cain back. The last thing Dean needed was to be killing something that looked and acted so human. Leaning against the wall for a moment, gun pointed at the ground, he listened, trying to figure out exactly where the high-pitched laughter and shrieks of pleasure were coming from. While it was better to have room to fight in, it sucked that it made sound echo so badly. Glancing up at Dean as the man came around the other hall, Sam sighed softly. They had to do this, no matter how much he disliked it. Nodding towards the last hall, Sam moved towards it, knowing that the vampires had to be at the other end. And he was right. For a moment, so overwhelmed at the sickening sight at the other end, he cursed as he put the gun away, knowing they couldn't risk shooting any of them, not when they were so close to their victim. Ignoring the sick feeling at seeing another human hanging in chains, served up like a side of beef, Sam moved in to kill the vampires as they headed towards him.

Dean stood there, trying to control himself. He could smell the blood, feel the sex inside. He could hear the grunts of someone fucking someone else and the terrified whimpers of the victim. The Mark of Cain made everything so sharp and clear. He could smell and hear and taste too much. The flavor of the room danced on his tongue, making him want to dive in there and join in or slaughter them all. One of the two. The Mark was even worse this time. The push was harder to resist. He looked at Sam and swallowed because he could feel the darkness pressing against him, trying to drown him. He could hear the sickness in the other room and felt himself reacting in very inappropriate ways. He really needed to kill those things before he found himself swept away. They didn't have an angel's touch, nor did they have sunlight or dead man's blood so they were going to have to decapitate them all. He gripped the machete in his hands and swung into action. He blinked a little and looked around. He was not where he was supposed to be. The First Blade was in his hand and he was covered in blood. He had cuts all over himself but he was pretty sure none of the blood was actually his. The cuts were already scabbed over and he knew that was because of his Demon, it could regenerate fast enough that he could see himself heal. He grimaced as the Mark of Cain burned on his arm and he hissed, dropping the First Blade and clutching it, trying to ease the pain. He looked around once he'd recovered and realized he was nowhere he recognized. It was abandoned wherever he was. That was when he noticed her. The girl, the victim that the Vampires had been torturing. She was, without a doubt, the most beautiful thing Dean had ever seen. She was... perfect. Unconscious but so, so perfect. And hurt. Hurt bad. He could, sometimes, get fuzzy images and now he could recall calling the First Blade and tearing through the vampires and turning on Sam when he ran out of victims. Turning on the Girl who had been strung up still. He remembered backhanding Sam, knocking him to the ground and trying to attack the girl and... failing? After that nothing. "Okay... first things first. Call Sam." Dean muttered, reaching into his pocket for his phone. "Sam! God, are you okay? I think I hit you... I don't know where I am but that girl, the one the Vampires had, she's here with me and I think I... I think I hurt her Sam." Dean admitted, feeling pretty sick at the idea. She was just gorgeous... like an Angel, he sounded sappy. That was weird. Had Dean found himself a succubus or something?

The last several hours had changed her life completely. Upon momentary contemplation, she could not pinpoint an exact moment when she knew that her place in this universe had been altered completely; rather, it was a collection of moments. Arguably, it all began when she left Jakku. Somehow, she ended up here. Strapped to a chair with her heart beating violently in her chest -- the infamous Kylo Ren was the first thing she saw when she woke. She had challenged him, that much she was more than aware of, as she had prompted him to remove his masked helmet. What she saw was not the fearsome man that she had anticipated, but rather someone strangely deep and alluring. Terrifying and violent, but alluring regardless. He had violated her; visiting and dancing around in her mind, uninvited and intrusively. The brunette woman protested, writhing and squirming away from him as he exploited her secret thoughts, reciting her loneliness to her as though this was some sort of game to him. All the while, she felt something strange and unfamiliar building up in her very core. A power that she wasn't capable of understanding or controlling. Her eyes boldly locked into his cold and hostile stare, digging into him as he had just done to her. Rey accused him, quickly sifting through his insecurities and finding his deepest one to bring to the surface. She angled herself forward, wrists still restrained. She did her best to show no fear as she awaited his retort, hoping that she had bested him.

She was stronger than he originally guessed. He had felt the budding power of the Force in her, but he never expected her to be this potent. She had just awoken to the Force and already, she was able to peer deeply into mind and twist him to her desire. She was good, very good. Even though the haze of anger and frustration, he could acknowledge that much. He wanted her...if he could train her, use her for his own purpose...he'd be unstoppable. Ren glared at the girl, her accusation spot on. He would never admit to it though...fear was not suppose to be an emotion he possessed. Instead, his mind entered her own again and did what she had just done. Using all his powers to bypass her mental barriers, he found her deepest fear. "What about you, then...Rey?" He questioned her softly with a smile as he leaned forward, his face close to her own, his hot breath on her neck. "You're afraid...of being worthless....worst than worthless. After all...that must have been while you were abandoned on that backwater planet. Your parents didn't want you, because you were worthless. A life without purpose...with no meaning. Isn't that what you fear?" He asked with a small chuckle as he used the Force to try and sway her emotions as he spoke. His thumb gently brushed over her lips as he whispered hotly in her ear. "I can give you purpose...Rey. If you work with me, I will train you. You life will have meaning. You'll be one of the most powerful warriors in galactic history. You won't just be a speck on a no name planet....isn't that what you want." His hot breath invaded her ear, his mind twisted around inside her like a knife as he tried to get her to see things his way.

The task is difficult because you choose for it to be difficult. Do you ever wonder why you do that so often? Kylo Ren chewed the inside of his cheek. He could feel his sweat pooling against the tile, almost splashing against his bare back. No one could accuse him of a lack of effort. He looked around, but he'd practically designed the room to preclude that. The quarters were spartan - thin, itchy fabric and hard metal. No personal mementos, for obvious reasons. He'd designed his entire life to eliminate pondering and encourage action. But now... You don't conquer a mind, Ren. A mind is a powerful entity. A mind is convinced. He'd been working on the damned probe for months now - with prisoners, with hostages, with dignitaries, even with the odd stormtrooper. He'd gotten glimpses here and there, but for the most part... only headaches. What have I been teaching you? To apply yourself with an open mind. Not to think of yourself as a student of one path or another, but to shed your identity. Snoke insisted that he needed to forgethimselfin order to read someone, that he needed to fully immerse himself in his target... Kylo pulled himself from the floor, threw on a thin set of cotton scrubs, followed it with his ceremonial robes and mask, before heading to the ad-junction room of theGauntlet. As usual, most people studiously ignored him - and since he rarely made an entrance on the bridge, most of the staff could go on pretending he didn't exist. Gauntlet. What a name for a ship. "Fedorre," Ren says with a smile. "It's a pleasure to see you alive." "It's a pleasure to see you awake, Ren." The Admiral sneers down his long nose at him, as if Kylo hadn't personally saved his fucking life at Gyndine. He's like every Order officer he's interacted with the last couple of years. All narrow eyes, rudeness, and barely concealed nervousness. "Do you know what system you're in?" "Mimban." "Chandrila. You were quite a bit off." "Are you here to demonstrate your superior knowledge, or..." "I'm here to relay orders. They're directly from the Supreme Leader." "About the blockade?" Fedorre presses his lips together and nods, as if impressed. "It's been almost a year without any real results. He's seen fit to break that blockade." That's not the sort of thing that would need his particular skills. A large-scale planetary invasion? When he was still supposed to be tracking Skywalker? There was no chance he'd be there. So... "You want me to go planetside." "The Supreme Leader wants you to speak to the Governor of Chandrila. He assured me that you'd be able to convince him to surrender the planet." Never was he so happy to be wearing this mask. He swallows. He'd never been able to do it properly. And now the Supreme Leader wanted him to do some special operation? With an entire planet at stake? "I know Chandrila's military doesn't have the finest reputation, but sending me down there alone is ridiculous." "Oh. I never said you'd be going alone.

. . Got to be a fucking clone," he said out of jest and slight tease. That was usually the last line of someone's mind working in defense, making a joke in a situation that they felt absolutely screwed in. In situations where one needed a distraction, it was like some chemical the brain released to keep one from realizing they were basically right at the edge of shitting themselves. That being said, she didn't really mind being compared to one of those failed attempts from a previous regime, the comparison made with connection of the body on top of him being smooth and swift in her action. The year before when they had heard the rumor of a woman joining their ranks, there had been faint whispers made with excitement, expecting another to slip behind one of numerous controlled, desk positions. She couldn't mentally handle it. To say the very least just the idea was boring, but the lifestyle itself made her want to be sucked out into the atmosphere, but in bringing her mind back into the reality, her fist raised as her eyes regained focus to the man beneath her trying to nearly suck his head and helmet into his body to avoid the punch. Rare should the situation turn into having someone attack you without a weapon, but the simulation proving as such when the scene around them disappeared, the sound of gears shifting and something within the walls humming reminding her that this was merely practice. "Hm," he said, rubbing his jaw where she had hit him. Standing now after pulling her opposite hand away from the gulping neck, the fingers on each hand wiggled softly before a faint nod was given and the thud of her boots carried her away. Helmet straight in her walk through the hall, the light chatter was no distraction, entering her chambers with a soft whoosh of the sliding door, gloved hands freeing herself from the helmet's confines. Breathing out softly, her eyes wandered aimlessly to the mirror out of a habit recently gained by change, closing the distance to her reflection and shifting her fingers through her hair. It was rare that she was without her helmet, deciding it long ago to simply keep herself from being apparent unless speaking, though the change almost gave a twinge of relief that wasn't often felt. The choppy haired woman's head turned sharply when the knock came from outside, glaring sharply at the door as she awaited the words that followed. "Admiral Fedorre has requested to speak to you, by order of Supreme Leader-" "Leave." Almost instantly at her request, she could have sworn she heard the lips of the stormtrooper outside her door form into a line before he left, eyes tracing the lines in the floor before meeting back to her helmet. While she wasn't particularly in favor of having the Admiral wait, and with this she clicked the Commander pauldron onto her arm, the white suited stormtrooper slid the helmet back over her head before leaving her quarters again. While there was no real joy in going to see the Admiral, there was almost equally no joy in figuring out why he had that snarky look on his face, breathing out within her concealment just in time to hear, ". . . I never said you'd be going alone. " Clearly the Admiral was one for dramatics. Nodding her head softly in greeting to the shorter Fedorre, in proper lighting, the stormtrooper could cast one hell of a shadow over him, though that would be something to laugh at when she was alone later. "He is sending you with Commander Phasma, to persuade him to release the planet to us. It is inhabited, so you will be among civilians." Though no protest was heard, the slight tilt of her head was evident when the woman heard the short version of what was happening, realizing she probably should have just pretended she hadn't heard anything at all. Pretended she hadn't heard the request, pretended she was busy doing something else. But this was for the First Order, and she had a duty. Unfortunately that meant dealing with others. Others who weren't conditioned, others who weren't trained to kill since childhood. Just simply civilians. Just the thought made her stomach churn.

Heart racing faster than she liked, Ami cleared her throat and flashed a shaky grin in his direction. "Nah, its fine," Ami was quick to tell him, brushing it off as if nothing happened. Of course it DID happen but he doesn't need to know that it caused her knees to feel weak or anything. Your mind was miles away, right?" Letting that die, Ami played with a few pieces of bright red hair, several strands falling against her cheeks despite her best efforts to keep it restrained and out of the way. Anyway I don't know what these things are, either. There is no way of predicting anything that will happen next. I wish I could, but I don't think anyone thought that zombies would burst out of a horror film and try to eat our brains." Giving a helpless shrug, Ami hopped off the desk, brushing her hands off as she tried to think of something -anything- she can say next. "Yes, it may be a good idea to stay in the school it might not be, too. Dark blue eyes glancing at him, Ami came to stand before him, and gently, playfully flicked him on the forehead. What, did you seriously expect me to be offended over that? Nah, I'm perfectly fine. It didn't mean anything." A cheeky grin pulling at her lips, Ami stuck her tongue out at him, only to laugh shortly after the fact. Alright, moving on. Ah Trailing off, the young woman decided to take a seat near him, while well, doing anything BUT think about what just went on. "Okay. You think that it's best if we stay here, right?" Ami asked, crossing one long, slender leg over the other even if it did cause her skirt to ride up just a teensy bit. "I believe it may be a good idea to move out of the city, but have a reliable way to come back in, to gather supplies and all that. The cities are crowded, which means that this will spread a hell of a lot faster than in the country. We can find guns, make a base of sorts you know, that sort of thing." Rubbing the back of her neck, scrunching her nose rather cutely and glancing over at him. "Okay, it sounded better in my head, alright? I think you get the point." Ami grumbled next, pouting. "Anyway what are your thoughts?" It did seem like Khun had a better handle on the situation than she did though all things considering, does anyone?

He raised an eyebrow at her playful, cheerful actions and looked up at her as she plopped down into the comfortable sofa next to him, crossing ivory skin over ivory skin as her skirt rode up to show a slight bit more, and then she continued to speak. There was only one reason that someone would be so cheerful in a time like this, so outwardly happy in such a dire situation. It must be her way of dealing with the stress, dealing with the fear she must be feeling, he looked over to her as she spoke not really listening to her talk just pondering over this confusing girl. She'd been ever so confrontational, ever so fierce but now that they were alone she seemed to be showing her fear, showing it in her own way - or so Khun thought. There was no way someone could be so cheerful, it just didn't add up in his mind. 'What are your thoughts?' she asked him, and his hands then extended reaching over for the girl who shared the sofa with him one hand finding the back of her head, placing its self in the thick red hair, the other hand finding the back of the ivory thigh furthest from him, pulling her over, closer, into a soft snuggle on the sofa they shared, his fingers musing through her thick hair as he held her close with a bite on his lip. "I think..." he said softly while still holding her somewhat tight, but not too tight that she couldn't move away if she would choose to. "That you're as terrified as I am, just better at hiding it." he said with a softer tone on his voice now, his fingers moving through the thick red hair as his other hand held onto the ivory thigh that poked out of her skirt. Regardless of her reaction he would just continue to talk, be it holding her or being scolded by her, he didn't really mind. "We wait, see if it blows over quickly, if we need clean clothing, more supplies, more anything that's when we move, until then we stay put. We are in a target building for some people, people will know that schools have a large supply of useful resources, maybe someone will come our way? For now, we stay put... AMI." he said softly looking at her eyes gently as he closed his, laying his head back softly into the sofa that he sat in, he was set on what he wanted to do, with or without Ami, however he didn't know enough, enough to make a concise and smart decision about what he really wanted to do. He had to stick to the main human instinct, survive, he couldn't do anything fancy, couldn't get a car and load it with supplies and drive around that was just too risky especially while he doesn't know what he's up against, he just feels like he needs to play time... To learn and advance in this new hellhole of a world, just 5~ hours in and already a lot of things had gone to shit.

Yang Xiao Long was always the more outgoing of her team. Least in regards to going out to the fun clubs around town. Blake wasn't the type, Weiss disliked establishments like this and Ruby... Well Yang considered Ruby just a tad too young to be hitting the clubs. Course the 17 year old Yang was technically a little young to be out drinking, but she knew her way around town, knew a few clubs that didn't care. Of course, these clubs, this one in particular were one of the more dirtier establishments, places where low-lifes hung out. Just the kind of place the blonde liked to hit up. In the end, one of three things would happen: One, it is a normal night and Yang has some fun dancing and drinking. Two, she charms her way into having a free night of fun and leaves all the boys as a tease, her generous chest had many advantages. Or three, she gets to beat the crap out of some scumbags who deserved it. In any event, Yang wins. So she entered the club, in her usual outfit. Kept her cool, was easy to move in, plus showed plenty of her assets, good for keeping people off guard. Striding forward, she approached the bar. "Grim Twist please." Leaning forward against the bar a little, setting in for a typical Friday night for the girl.

Michael or Mike for short walked slowly though the club, bobbing his head to the beat of the music as he took in all the carnal pleasure people were enjoying in the club tonight. He was a tall young man, about 6'3". He had crew cut brown hair and square rimmed glasses on the bridge of his nose. He was in shape, as all hunters had to be, and his muscles showed through his red polo shirt. His weapon hung from his hip, a single action army revolver that could shift into a longsword at his bidding. Making him a perfect close-to-midrange fighter. He walked up to the bar and ordered himself a glass of the finest bourbon they had. He was a liquor type of guy, and bourbon was the finest liquor around. He looked towards Yang and gave her a smile, it was charming and well practiced. He took a sip of his bourbon as he motioned to the bartender. "I'll be paying for all the young woman's drinks tonight." He pointed to Yang, but this was code to the bartender. He knew the man, and it meant he was going to spike Yang's drink with a very potent aphrodisiac to make her a little more...accepting of what he had planned later tonight. He sat in the chair next to Yang and grinned. "So...you must be the infamous Yang. I'm Mike...I'm a fellow member of Beacon Academy. It's nice to finally meet the most beautiful woman on campus." He flirted shamelessly...but he wasn't lying either, she was quite the attractive woman. He reached his hand out for a handshake as the bartender pushed Yang's drink towards her.

Cherry Triwas eagerly looking through her bag, a smile on her face as she hummed away. She sat in her little bedroom, located in a quaint little house inNew Bark town. She was 16 and had just recently gotten her trainer licence, her father insisting she finish school. So, now she had done with high school and had qualified as a trainer, she was ready to go. Now she was sure she was packed and ready to go, she strode out her house, Pokeball in hand. The moment she got outside, she threw the ball out. "Come on Apple!" Calling out as the red and white ball reached its heights, bursting open. Red light formed into an object, taking the boxy shape of her first Pokemon, aPorygon. The Porygon floated just off the ground next to the trainer, happily zipping around here. "Come on, let's get going on our adventure!" Wasting no time, she began to run out into route 29, a set of Pokeballs ready to begin catching her team. Crystal "Kris" Elmwatched Cherry go dashing past out of town, the older girl giving a little smile as she shook her head. Looking out into town, she frowned, where the heck was he? Kris was helping her father out by going and collecting data to further the Pokedex, especially in regards to eggs. She had been assigned a partner, Stiks to help her, well to help each other. Problem is, he was meant to meet her on the outskirts of town so they could get going... an hour ago. Sighing, Kris headed for his house, quickly arriving and knocking on the door to find his mother. The look her mother gave, told Kris everything she needed to know, getting a sigh from the blue haired girl. "I'll get him...." Walking in and walking up the stairs annoyed. She knew which room was his, so she did not hesitate to start slamming her fist against it over and over. "Stiks, get up! We're late!!" She didn't stop pounding at the door till she was sure he was awake.

Apple the Porygon emerged from the ball and made its electronic sounding cry. Then began to follow after its owner. As she took off down route 29 being energetic as she was. Apple kept up best it could, she was eager and Apple couldn't be happier to finally be along for Cherry's journey having been a gift to her from her father who worked at Silph Co over in Kanto. The moment Cherry made it into route 29, the world would look so much more open. The grass and trees danced and weaved as wind blew, flocks of Pidgey rose from the grass and flew off into the sky. The land was brimming with life going forward. The start of her journey would be one of amazement. However, as she charged through route 29 after being allowed to take in the sights, the sound of something coming for them from the grass could be heard. The pokemon leaps towards Cherry - her first encounter. Stiks was not his real name, but he had never really given his full name as it was dorky he always thought. So, he had it be known to Krys and everyone who lived in New Bark to call him Stiks. The young man was like any other 17-year-old, save for the fact that the only things he seemed to be passionate about were berries, fishing, and inventing new ways to be a real pervert. His puffy white hair which was a result of his father settled on his head making it a naturally wavy styled hair. His outfit was a black and grey outfit but it was standard for young men otherwise. However, when Krys pounds on that door, the door swings ajar to reveal that Stiks was in fact not sleeping but with his pants down his ankles and his cock hanging out as he had been reading a rather filthy Gajinka magazine. He turned his head and looked seeing Krys there, and blinks rushing to pull his pants up. "Krys... oh...hey you're here... weren't you waiting at the entrance to route 29?" His tone revealed that he had actually been planning to not come, he really was unusual - he had no actual interest in pokemon, however, the page he was on clearly had a rather voluptuous woman dressed up as a Typhlosion. It was clear he had openly been wanting to just stay home and masturbate. Funny thing is, he wasn't like this when he was younger... But things had definitely changed about Krys's rather perverted and lazy friend.

The beautiful redhead walked the streets of New York City alone. Strictly speaking, she wasn't truly alone, as there were still a handful of people shambling about, mostly avoiding one another and scuttling in their own ways. Darkness had descended, and that had a tendency to drive most people indoors. You could hear laughter and see lights coming from pretty well every building you passed, and definitely from those that sold alcohol or something along those lines. But back to the pretty redhead. Petite, lithe, she was the sort of girl that would have garnered attention, had there been anyone to look. For she possessed a classic beauty, the type that people so often wanted in their actresses and models, one that harkened back to the whole "girl next door" thing. And considering that this girl next door happened to be engaged to the boy next door, well, it was a wholly accurate description. Not that being engaged made Mary Jane Watson any less appealing. From the dark red hair to the bottom of her shoes: currently a pair of stylish boots that slid underneath a pair of fashionably torn jeans, MJ was every bit the looker. Slim hips with just the right amount of flare, a bust that just managed to defy gravity and look quite noticeable without having a cartoonish appeal, and of course, the beautiful face and fetching emerald eyes. All this of course helped with her career, though it had also made sure she hadn't been shy of boys to toy with throughout her life. Mostly, anyway. Now though, she'd tied herself to one Peter Parker, a.k.a. Spider-Man. Of course, not that many people actually knew that Peter was the web-slinger. MJ had only found out relatively recently, despite having known Peter for years before that. They'd grown up together, and they'd dated on and off for some time. Hell, Peter had skipped dates for weird reasons before. Really, MJ should have figured something out. But no, instead, she'd had to find out much, much later, and only by actually running into Spider-Man when his mask had been shredded just enough. Putz. Peter happened to be on her thoughts as she roamed the deserted streets. Mostly because they'd just gotten word that people had seenitagain: the dreaded black costume, the symbiote. Peter had insisted that it couldn't be Brock, since the bulky ruined reporter was still safely accounted for: placed under lock and key by SHIELD (an organization that MJ had found out aboutbeforeshe'd learned Peter's secret). Which meant that someone else, someone new, wore the suit now. Which made Peter all kinds of nervous. It was cute, really, how he'd insisted that MJ not walk the streets alone, especially at night. How he insisted that she at least try to keep in contact with him, or avoid dangerous areas. MJ had told him in no uncertain terms that she could handle herself, thankyouverymuch. She'd done it before, hadn't she? Back before he'd actually revealed the truth? Peter had then wondered if MJ was ever going to let go of that detail, to which MJ informed him that the moment it stopped being useful or Peter stopped feeling guilty, she might. Or when they finally got married. Maybe. But probably not. The redhead sighed, her eyes rolling heavenward for a moment. She loved Peter, really did, but there were times. Usually involving the whole stupid superhero thing, but occasionally there were other issues. Like dealing with Aunt May, for example. Sweet woman, but Peter acted like she was made of glass. MJ knew better. Or, worse yet, the whole fact that Petey was one hell of a virgin. Apparently he'd never gotten that far with Gwen before, which wasn't all that surprising, and the thing with Kitty had gotten nowhere, which was a lot more surprising. He said he understood the basics, and judging by the way they'd done some heavy petting, he certainly did, but Petey still held tight to his V-card, and mentioned something about waiting. Not that MJ was overburdened with experience. She'd lost her cherry in high school, as most attractive girls did, but it wasn't like she'd been the school slut. In fact, she could count the number of guys who'd seen her naked on one hand, and one of those happened to be Peter (another was Wolverine, and that was one hell of a story). Still, she clearly had Peter beat. Though at least he seemed really, really willing to try and eager to please, which was one heck of a good combination. A yelp distracted MJ. She paused, turning to look down an alley. Sure enough, the yelp repeated, and MJ winced. It sounded like a dog of some kind, one that had been hurt. The redhead looked around, not seeing anyone else in the area. Big surprise there. Sighing, MJ reached up to brush aside some hair, tucking it behind an ear. Sure enough, another yelp sounded. The girl shifted, digging into her purse to drag out a small container of mace. Never knew. Thus armed, MJ crept very, very slowly into the alley. "Here boy!" she called cautiously, waving her hand in a "come hither" motion. "Come on out boy. Come on. I just want to help..." though she knew full well that heading into a dark alley with all sorts of things on the loose was not a good plan. But MJ could handle herself.... she knew she could.

Up until about a week ago Dominic Strauss had lived a rather normal life all things considered, twenty-five years old and just out of college with a job that he was overqualified for and didn't pay nearly enough in the first place. It had all been extremely frustrating, working sixty hours a week just to avoid being homeless and starving to death, and then only just so. He had just gone through a nasty breakup, was being threatened with the loss of his job due to downsizing, and of course his apartment building might be seeing a rent raise in the near future. At night he would lay back in bed, trying to fall asleep and fantasize about how life could be so much better, how those with superpowers had it better, how they could choose to be hero or villain and at the end of the day make a better life for themselves no matter. He liked to imagine what it would be like to be the hero who arrived in time to save the girl and get everything every man wanted... but deep down he suspected that the villain might have quite a bit more fun at the end of the day. But a week ago he had been making his way home, his shift running late to ensure he could keep his job, and because of that he missed the bus and was walking through a less than upscale part of town, the subway still out in the area after something Magneto had pulled about a week ago. He had been nervous, of course, he didn't look like he would have much money but he wasn't the biggest guy around and someone might see him as a victim as he made his way home... on that night any number of things could have gone wrong but instead something went just about perfect. It had fallen from the sky, literally... He had heard the whistle of something falling and looked up in case there had been a jumper on one of the buildings... but instead all he saw was a rain of darkness against an otherwise moonlit night. What had fallen on him had been thicker than rain, heavier too, and while it had no smell, the texture was a little odd, clinging to him as he tried to brush it away. Only a few blocks from his apartment Dominic had run the rest of the way back, managing to open the door with a hand that was suddenly shaking, and in the better light inside he could see that he had been covered in a black gel, not quite liquid but not solid either. Of course he had been disgusted - who wouldn't be after being showered in god knows what falling from the sky late at night? Quickly, he stripped down and moved to get into the shower, wanting to be clean. It wasn't that simple though; not nearly so simple as the substance that coated him started to move. He caught sight of it in the mirror as he prepared to get in the shower: The individual drops and strings of the substance seemed to gather and flow together, spreading over his body slowly. At first, it was a curious sort of thing - it wasn't unpleasant feeling, warm and soft but it seemed to grow larger over him. It was then that Dominic started to panic. He tried to scream but found that he couldn't. He ran only to fall before he took even a third step. As he lay on the floor, it had covered him, pouring into his mouth, changing him. He had felt it working its way into his head through his ears, tear ducts, and his nose... and then it had happened: Connection. In an instant, his mind became one with the substance that covered him - the symbiote, the word coming to him right away. Venom. Memories that were not his filled his head, emotions and knowledge that came from the symbiote that was now a part of him. He knew who Spider-Man was, hated him for reasons that weren't his own but were no less powerful because of their source. The knowledge was something fantastic, it told him what he could do now, what he would do, the chemistry of his brain and body changed subtly, making him a more efficient host, the symbiote had learned after its past two hosts... after Parker and Brock it was going to be a little more proactive now. As he lay on the floor, he felt his body grow stronger, from an average build to one that was practically Olympian, stronger and faster than he could get through any mundane means, the symbiote was enhancing him to create a host that would be worthy even when not connected. Of course it wasn't just his body that was strengthened, it changed his mind as well, making him more aggressive, hungrier... he would get what he wanted no matter what. At some point, he had passed out. There had been pain, and the symbiote wanted its host to sleep through it, it was more efficient that way. The symbiote wasn't quite caring and lacked any true empathy, but it was bonding with him and after poor experiences before, it wanted to ensure that its host was happy. If the host was happy, then there would be no conflict, and without conflict, the symbiote could get what it wanted: to grow more powerful, to populate the earth with more of its kind, to spread a hive mind that would ensure the domination of its new race... the Race of Venom. He awoke twenty-four hours later, no longer just Dominic; the symbiote was with him now, its thoughts though strange and alien were with him. He had practiced after that, the suit gave him knowledge of its abilities, how he was stronger than Spider-Man by far, faster, invisible to his sixth sense, and all the other neat little tricks it could pull off. Still, he needed experience; he had gone out with the suit, swinging through the city and exploring, throwing around a few muggers for his own amusement, spying on Parker when the man was unaware of the danger, and seeing him with her, the redhead, the one from Parker's memories... Dominic wanted her and the symbiote did too, knowing that it would hurt Parker more than just about anything else, knowing it could destroy him and make him that much more vulnerable. When Parker was mad, he made mistakes, and Venom wanted him to make them. He had been following her for two days, sometimes using the symbiote to look like any number of items of clothing to blend in, and other times just sticking to the shadows, his long tongue licking over his lips as he reveled in his newfound power. And at the moment, he felt the time was right; he made his move, hiding in a dark alley as she moved past, letting out what sounded like a strangled yelp, the sort of sound an animal in pain might make. His eyes easily pierced the gloom as he watched her pause with a smile, thinking of how he would enjoy her body, what the suit would allow him to do, the power that he now possessed. As she stepped in, that worthless can of mace in her hand, Venom moved, silent and graceful as a cat, sticking to the shadows and bounding from one wall to another so that he was behind her as she called out to the animal that she thought was hiding, the animal she thought she could help. Lowering himself to the ground on a strand of webbing, standing backlit by the flickering streetlight near the entrance of the alley way. His build not as bulky as Brock had been in the suit, just as tall but not as broad, still significantly larger in build than Parker was though, a gift from the suit. Mary Jane... He hissed as he slowly bent down into a low crouch, his long teeth flashing in the dark. Oh Mary Jaaaaaane... He was playing with her, the symbiote wanted her afraid, wanted to smell, wanted to taste her fear; from where he was she smelled so good.

Ugh. I'm not so sure if I got the address right...This place looks haunted...And it seriously creeps me out...The wind howling in the remote area indeed sounded threatening. Once again, her eyes returned to a small piece of, by now distressed, paper with an address scribbled over. In a matter of seconds, it was buried inside her fist. It must be right. And I must get a grip over myself. I'm a deathscythe now, after all. Right! The real life starts now, and I better start it good! A stray cat knocking the lid of the bin off, however, made her determination shrink at once and the freshly assigned deathscythe had to collect all her will power to restrain from fleeing. It was starting to get dark...And she pretty much spent the past three hours standing in front of this odd and, for some weird reason, stitched all over building. It's been two days since she, Celeste Vincent, was finally titled as a deathscythe. Both, she and her partner, worked hard for it to happen, but the event which was meant to strengthen their already flawless bond had separated their ways instead. The reaper, although they've proved to be capable of growing up and improving together, insisted for someone more skilled and experienced to team up with her. Celeste wasn't too keen on the idea. She wasn't too good with people and struggled to make friends. For what she remembered, she's always been this way. There were ones such as her, now former, partner who seemed to know where the right to push buttons were and would find their way with Celeste at once...But they were so rare she could swear she only met three in her entire life. Getting a new partner was a bad idea...If they couldn't match their wavelengths, it'd be useless. And trying to match it would take time - probably the same time it would take her previous partner to master his own skills to be compactible with her newly obtained title. No, this kind of thinking won't get me anywhere. I must see it as an opportunity and I must take that opportunity. Right! I can do it this time! She stopped for a bit, waiting for another sound to discourage her again, but for once nothing happened. Upon inhaling deeply, Celeste finally knocked on the door, already keeping the sweetest of her smiles ready while trying to suppress a nervous twitch of an eyebrow. And the door had opened, making the weapon bow his head and quickly mutter without even facing the person. "Professor Stein? It's pleasure to meet you. I'm Celeste, Celeste Vincent. I've been assigned to be your new partner." * * * The day had just started, but Maka's mood had already hit the lowest point. As if walking into Soul with his face between Blair's bare breasts wasn't bad enough, her idiot of a father decided to barge in so early in the morning, too. He babbled something about cooking pancakes for her, but the moment he had encountered the scene she had been trying to stomach, the plans and herself were forgotten. "Oi, Maka. How long you plan on ignoring me? It's not even my fault. That's not cool at all." Soul complained as he followed her, bandages covering his entire head. Anger management had not been the best of her qualities... But all three idiots deserved her rage and so she felt no guilt over choosing physical violence to be a solution. She didn't answer and kept on walking through Shibusen with arms crossed over her chest. For now, she was still fuming and not in a mood to talk to the weapon. Itwashis fault! The thing Maka's ever learned from her father was that women won't be clinging onto men unless the men made an effort. Therefore, it was all clearly Soul's fault, although the cat's morals were quite questionable, too. And after them crawled Spirit, leaving a trace of blood after himself while weakly calling out for Maka through the tears. And yet she mercilessly ignored him, too. The deathscythe probably had the worst of her anger, but again Maka had no regrets. If he was there 'just to see her', he wouldn't have jumped into the bed with those two, instantly forgetting what he claimed was the purpose of the visit. Men are truly the worst. Still stubbornly ignoring her partner and her father, she followed the same routine as always. Just like every morning, Maka traditionally stopped in front of the announcement board to see if there was anything interesting going on. There was probably nothing to make her day worse...Or so she hoped.

~ There was a lot to this house that showed the many dimensions of the man's mind, from the stitches of its walls and furniture to the near vacancy around it. Very little life could be seen, its emptiness shown through by the slight mess of its surroundings. And more so what little life you did appear frightfully harmed. Stitches along its body, even the cat that had given the girl such a fright was a victim to the surrounding madness. Under its black fur, was hidden the stitched reminder of its own... dissection.... The air was deep and ominous and unbeknownst to her, she was being watched. For sitting in the dark, in front of the bright blur of the monitor, her future host had observed the girl's slow and nervous approach to his own doorstep. His hand tinkering away, spinning the bolt on one side of his head, as he waited for her to knock. Once she did, the door would just.... Open. And, the only sound creaking from the dark house, was the sharp, light clicking of his bolt as he wound it up, click, click click.... Like something out of a horror movie. Soon the sound came to a frightful silence. Only broken a few moments later by a loud thud, the sound of rolling permeating through the air until the image came clear through the darkness of the house. The man was rolling back on his chair. And with the click of his wheel hitting against the door frame, he fell back, a vacant expression upon the man's stitched face, his cigarette still held between his lip's. Now laying inches away from the girl's feet, he looked up, the vacant expression still present as he raised his hands up in the air like a camera. Trying to align them towards something, but it wouldn't be clear exactly what he was trying to align them to..."Hmm, not quite. Stay right here."He said as he stood up, dragging the chair back into the darkness... Was he testing something? Not too long after, the thud banged through the air once more, this time louder, a slightly stronger push perhaps? Followed by the rolling and click of his wheel, the man began falling back once more, this time his head resting on her feet. The vacant expression now turned to a slightly devious smile, his eyes narrowing in a very serious and observant manner. With a click of his tongue, he raised his hands, closing one eye as he aligned his fingers right under the girl's skirt."Success," he said boldly and plainly, before jumping up off the ground. Smoothly lifting the chair up with him to show years of experience in... Well, rolling. "You must be Celeste, a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am glad you cooperated with my little experiment, it would seem you are already quite the assistant. But I digress, Allow me to introduce myself."Experiment? He just... He only snuck a pantie glimpse! Was this a joke? Prank? Or was he seriously seeing if he can land with a perfect view of her undergarments? It was hard to tell, as the man emulated emotion quite well. Despite his friendly smile he now showed, it was still somewhat vacant, leaving any real intentions an enigma to say the least. "I am Doctor Stein," he said, smiling widely and closing his eyes. Slightly cocking his head to one side as he tapped his right foot against the leg of his desk chair."Now I am certain you have many questions and, while I would be glad to answer them, no matter how dull they are, I have some of my own. So perhaps we can go inside, where you can serve us some tea?"He said so with that same smile across his face. Was she not his guest? Why would she make the tea? He was odd, slightly rude and his smile seemed so fake. But something she would likely come to find out, is that Stein is simply a multi-faceted man. On the flick of a switch he can be in a new mood, new mindset, a new... psychosis. Slowly he kicked his feet back, rolling towards his front door. With his wheel clicking against the frame once more, he fell inside his house. The man simply standing up afterwards as if the blunder didn't even happen in the first place. Picking up his chair, he simply renewed his entry. Kicking his feet once more and rolling back into his house. A out stretched arm reached out, his finger's pointing out to flick on the living room light as he passed it by. Dragging his feet, he narrowly stops next to his coffee table, reaching to his face to straighten his glasses out."Hmm, on second thought, ask your questions first. I am your host after all and It is rude not to accommodate... By the way, the kitchen is over there. I don't know what Tea I have in the cupboards but hey..."With a shrug, the man gave her a confident toothy grin."Surprise me." With a sigh, Jacob continued to walk down the street, shutting down his ears practically to every sound he heard. He was tired of this guy, the boy walking at his side. This guy couldn't be any more annoying, but Jacob was sadly kind of stuck with him." Are you even listening to me!?"his Meister asked, as he placed a firm hand on Jacobs shoulder. Pulling against him, Jacob was dragged into place, groaning slightly at this sudden burst of his personal space."Ok, what is it Jesse. What is it, that is so important about avoiding missions with them."Jacob was tired of this argument. For the past few months, they have been receiving missions that paired the two with Maka and Soul. Jacob loved the set up, after all they were two of the best out there right now. Not to mention, the two were not half bad to hang out with. But Jesse keeps insisting they deny missions with them for now on."Because Jacob, they out class us! How are we supposed to make a name for ourselves when almost every mission is with them. They take the glory, by default. Because she is the damned Keshan slayer. Any thing we do, has that attached to it. "Jacob sighed as he tried to walk forward, a visible vain growing on Jesse's forehead, as his scowl was unmistakable to not notice. "'Oh, but you had theeeir help.'"He said in a mocking tone. As obnoxious as ever."Is that really still your only reason why? Who cares!? If we end up working with them, then that is just what we will do. I dont want to avoid them, act like they dont exist and go for different missions."Jacob proclaimed as he began to walk backwards."Who cares!" Jesse was upset with that, but Jacob persisted. "I didn't choose to use my gift to find fame and glory. I'm here to do what's right, I'm here to protect others, I'm here to actually do my job and learn!" Jacob proclaimed as he continued to walk backwards. "Oh, how noble of you, but how are you supposed to become a death scythe with them around!?" Jacob couldn't really argue with that. "Tch..Whatever man, we have class. Worry about glory some other time, you tool." He said with a click of his tongue. Jesse tried to say something, but Jacob blanked it out. Turning around so he could now see where he was going, it was too late - he already blundered into someone. Walking face-first into Maka's, he fell forward, pushing her to the ground... His hands now resting on her rather flat chest in his attempt to catch his fall. His leg's were straddled around her hip's, his hands slightly pinning the young women to the ground as a visible blush grew across his cheeks. Quickly retracting his hands, he was already onto his excuse. "So sorry, I was just distracted by a conversation with..." Looking to his left, Jesse was already gone. He could practically see the puff of dust in the air from his retreat. Maka didn't see accidents when it came to the exploitation of the female form - she only saw punishment, retribution, and righteous fury. A bead of sweat rolled down his cheek as he raised his upper body. His hand reaching to scratch the back of his head. "Well, it was just an accident, I swear." He said nervously. His thoughts were somewhat impure, though. He was happy it was her... He liked Maka. She was fun, energetic, and well... Cute. Even when she was acting like a complete tsundere, she was adorable. And to him, she was beautiful. He didn't care if she was not as well equipped as other women or how petite she was - to him, there was no one he would rather have fallen on more. Slowly, he stood up, reaching down to grab her hand and pull her up. He was ready for her onslaught but proceeded to try for some kind of idle chit-chat nonetheless. "So what are you up to, looking at the board?" He asked. As if he hadn't just had a good feel of her... Well, she more than likely did not like the reminder of it, or the fact that he now felt how flat she was. He knew he embarrassed her; he just hoped he didn't offend her. It really was the last thing any man wants to do - to a cute girl they fancy.

Twelve minutes into the first match, Ezreal and his support, Leona, had already stacked up an impressive eight kills against the opposing team. He owed his victory to sheer luck in the team-building process and the rest he supposed had to do with the enemy ADC being overly aggressive, but purely driven by instinct in retrospect. Leona kept him on edge throughout the game, preventing the blonde explorer's advantageous boldness from ultimately becoming his downfall. He maintained his focus in the case of an enemy gank, which, to his surprise, never came, while steadily harassing the nearest turret. "Be careful," Leona warned like a mother supervising her unruly child. "A few victories are no reason to act carelessly." The last swing of her solar sword crumbled the turret into rubble and the two swiftly retreated before the enemy pair could avenge their losses. "Yeah, yeah," Ezreal replied with a grin, blasting a few more arcane shots towards a few unsuspecting minions. "Have some fun once in a while, lady." Eight kills, he thought, were more than impressive enough to parade himself around to unsuspecting enemies and have them flee in fear. His own lane was boringly stagnant and the hunt was hardly rewarding now that Ezreal had enough to roam the map. He and Leona had undoubtedly won their lane, but he couldn't say the same for his teammates, specifically his top laner. As the tenth "An ally has been slain!" announcement boomed overhead followed by the all-too-familiar notifications of consecutive slaughters, Ezreal felt a tight knot of adrenaline twist in his gut. He knew the top laner was no other than Zed, a formidable threat his support had warned him to avoid until late game. But the overzealous explorer trusted his own score and knew there was no other enemy champion better matched for him than the assassin. His pride led him out of the bottom lane undetected by his support, until her cries of distress were far too distant for him to hear in the thick underbrush of the jungle. As he crossed into enemy territory, he installed a few wards to illuminate his way, almost surprised he hadn't stumbled into any of the junglers or heard the dying cry of the Baron. It was too quiet. Then, as Ezreal's mechanical arm pushed aside some thick leaves, Shaco's jack-in-the-box popped out of the brush with a maniacal laugh. "Augh!" Pure fear overrode Ezreal's senses, forcing him to crawl backwards on all fours from the nightmarish toy from hell. The trinket bounced in place eerily before it vanished in a puff of smoke, leaving Ezreal to simmer in embarrassment. "Nice one, Shaco. Real funny," he muttered to himself as he picked himself off the corroded dirt patches. He hoped nobody from the enemy team had witnessed his moment of weakness, especially not Zed.

Cut the last breath from them!" The game had just begun. Though the drafting didn't go well and he was sure his teammates who were to protect the bottom lane had a concerning conversation before the battle had started, but Zed didn't let the words stick in his head. The red-clothed, blade-riddled assassin had his arms behind his form as he flew from one foot to the other. Wind had whipped against his mask as he ran straight up to the top lane. A simple path, and yet, Zed had come to a full stop at the end of his tower's reach. The sight of the large Demacian and his beefy sword had been enough to make Zed pause. Even with this enemy doing a silly dance in his big armor, Zed's eyes peered over the shadows elsewhere. It was always a pleasure for the Master of Shadows to monitor the quick work of his friend, Shaco. They were both quite lethal and deceptive, but Shaco took home the prize if it was a competition on who played the most mind games. Between terrorizing toy boxes and even vanishing acts, even Zed had a hard time keeping total focus on where his friend was and what he was up too. It was clear from Shaco's position, the enemy jungler was going to miss out on some of the camps. Forfeiting nothing to steal something was a great way to secure a lead. The eyes of men and women, Champions and Summoners alike were scouring over Zed's sleek body. At this level of competition, most of the game would be viewed intently by many, even by fellow champions in the match. Zed was marked as a crowd pleaser, a lady's man. Even Garen's dear little lux was confused by Zed's charms. The shadow assassin bad boy was all over her mind, even now, as she spectated the game and fought with herself to cheer for Garen. That's what made this match so sweet for Zed, Garen was going to get steamrolled and Zed can continue mind-fucking the blonde Demacian sow. It was a taste of depravity that he enjoyed maliciously. About half the game had passed as kills were traded back and forth. Zed dominated the top lane, but the enemy Ezreal had been competing for second place by subjugating and destroying the bottom lane. With teleport down and a fresh respawn timer, Garen was well off the map and Zed was low from diving the tower. It would normally be foolish to try something like that, but between Death Mark and Zed's massive lead, nothing was truly impossible. A sensation he would revisit as he noted Ezreal's trek through the middlelane and into the top-side jungle. A smile creeped behind the evil mask as Zed threw a living shadow into a nearby brush near the jungle and then he crept into a typical bush to recall in. Upon leaving vision, Zed swapped places with his Living Shadow and began to sneak through his jungle. His silence throughout these motions wouldn't portray how Zed's hidden heart began to make a little pitter patter. The sight over Shaco's boxes had been but one of it's many utilities. The trap would hide anywhere, in a bush, or in plain sight. It stealthed from view as its monstrous center-piece had waddled back and forth in sheer delight. Once someone, like Ezreal, stepped into it's trigger range, the trap would spring to life and force almost any target to flee in terror. So it wasn't the blond adventurer's fault as the sudden trap seized his facilities so easily and made him move as he did. Sadly, even after gaining his composure, Ezreal's nightmare had only begun. Zed knew that Lux had somewhat of a thing for this Golden Boy, and he wondered if it was possible by definition to cuck a woman. Without making a sound, two long arms had crept from the bush at Ezreal's back. Advancing without alarming the smaller, but confident male. That is, until they made their move. One gloved hand going for his mouth, the other moving to cover his chest before the Master of Shadows would attempt to drag his prey into the Bush with him. The goal was to pin the young male against his hard leather chest armor.

Lillith Cousland was far from being considered a normal woman. Even before she became a Grey Warden and the Hero of Ferelden, she had always been a little odd. Spending her time with the knights of Highever Castle bashing practice dummies with her shield rather than sewing or cooking, or doing the things that a 'proper' noble lady should do. Those were things that she had always hated doing, but she was forced to do because they were the right things to do. Then things changed when she became a Warden, the Warden... The Hero of Ferelden, the Warden Commander. She had saved Thedas from the Archdemon, and then saved it again during the Darkspawn Civil War. Now she commanded all of the Wardens of Ferelden. Though as of recently they hadn't really been in Ferelden much at all, not since the false Calling and Corypheus. She had taken a small group of her best Wardens and they were going to find a cure. She wasn't going to lose any more people to the Calling, even a false one like this last one was... She had Shaethari Alerion, her most trusted healer. An elf of Dalish origins, who had been with her during the Blight. Shae had saved Lilllith's life on more than one occasion, she wouldn't want to do this without her. Kallian Tabris, a city elf. A rogue who could flip between shooting you at a distance and stabbing you in the back so quickly that it was blinding. Lillith still wasn't sure how Kallian had made it out alive of that hell that was the Denerim Alienage after what happened, but she was glad she had. There was Nathaniel. Her lieutenant and second in command. She couldn't do this without him, if she had left him behind she would've hated herself for it for the rest of her life, however short it may or may not have been... Then there was Arani. She was a stout little thing. She had always liked dwarves for that. And Arani was no exception. She didn't know how, but that woman could wield any weapon you put in her hands. A bow, daggers, a sword, a maul. It didn't matter. Arani could wield it. Olaf was can Avvar ranger, who's hunting and gathering skills had certainly been much appreciated on this crazy trip. He could find food in even the most asinine of places, including the Deep Roads. And his companions were always welcome. Pierre had been a former Chevalier, turned Warden. Of all her men, Lillith and Pierre butted heads at every turn. He tried to contradict her orders at every opportunity, and it had nearly gotten Kallian killed once. She wouldn't put up with it down here, not in the Deep Roads. Cassius was another story altogether. Shae disliked him for good reason... he was not only Tevinter, but also a convicted rapist. But he was also a damn fine mage, something that Lillith was in very short supply of. So she had invoked the Right of Conscription and forced him into the Wardens. At least in the Wardens, she could keep an eye on him and decide his punishment if he stepped out of line. And finally there was Sojan. Initially he had come to them as an experiment to see if Qunari would make good Wardens, let alone take part in the Joining. As it turned out, they most certainly could. This hulking beast of Qunari had made a fine Warden ever since. He'd become an invaluable member of her team, that was for certain. He had brought Shaethari out of her shell... It was hard to tell day from night in the Deep Roads, so Lillith judged on how tired everyone seemed to be. She saw that everyone seemed to be beginning to wear down, and she wasn't even really sure how long they'd been hiking through muck and Darkspawn slime at this point. So she figured it was time for a break. "Okay everyone. Let's break camp here, we need to try and make a run to the surface soon. Water is getting limited and if we run out, it's not going to be good for any of us..." Lillith said. Looking around at them. Shaethari nodded, undoing her pack from her back and letting it shift to the ground with a groan. Her back ached from the weight. She and Kallian were the smallest among them. Arani may have been the shortest, but they were more petite. Shae sat down on her back, too tired to try and set up her tent just yet. She needed to rest for a bit and regain her energy before trying to set up her tent. Kallian did the same, flopping down on top of her pack. Not even really considering what kind of position this left her in. She didn't care; she was exhausted and wanted a nap. Arani laughed as the two elves collapsed, moving over and beginning to set up her tent as soon as she laid her pack down. She knew if she wanted to get away from the idiots in this camp, she needed to seek refuge in that tent. So she got to work quickly hammering her stakes into the heavy shale floor of the Deep Roads.

Nathaniel Howe supported the ludicrous endeavor of Warden Commander Cousland out of sheer faith in her abilities to mutate impossible odds into realities. Corypheus' bore an innate power to imitate the calling, bringing strife and complete discord among the Grey Wardens hierarchy. Submerged in the shadows whenever presented through openings, Nathaniel sustained silence amidst lingering in the homes of the Darkspawn. A most virulent task, retracting closer to the campground where everyone would hopefully be most prudent despite opinions on his commander's quirky selection. Brandishing his ancestral longbow, an austere gaze kept until reaching into the encampment. "Lady Cousland, the perimeter is secured !" he spoke courteously despite the closeness shared between them during the years. Olaf never wavered far without an animal companion, this one manifesting as a wolf of considerable intelligence. Stereotypical, the Avvar outdoors man accessorized with warpaint prevalent in the tribes he belonged to where relationships with Fereldens hovered to hostile levels by warfare and discrimination. Beholden to the semblance of his people, distinguishing features included wavy blonde hair descending passed his shoulders, a thinned physique tightly cored like a muscular feline , and majestic light blue hues. Darkspawns and its averse source of power known as the blight were discernible visually, somewhat by movement, and definitely by scent. Primitive means of martial combat he excelled it, weighed down by numerous throwing axes on his person and only barely armored by the customs of the wardens. "The blighted ones do not come, but we cannot stay here too long. Ogre was here, we caught its smell!" he announced in a neutral tone to the group. Batching it an astronomical distance from the privy of the asylum from inevitable demise judging by how the taint from these burdensome walking plagues coursed in his veins. Still it was preferable to death, shame those whom he could sample from were formidable dishes of flesh. Cassius held a wiry exterior, pale like a corpse with amber orbs closer to red as he peered at the formations of the rocks. Toting a darkened gorge sloshing with the plasma of fallen victims, this blood magi born a horrid reputation prior to this enslavement for overindulging in women and candidly testing his talents with the blood. Commander Cousland stopped advances from the pretty Dalish encircling near that horned beast, trailing the boundary with a combination of his blighted blood with the collection of Darkspawn blood. Crooked teeth drew a sinister grimace, enacting a specialized spell that gave off the scents of his their kin, hence fooling them slightly as a decent ward. "Ogre? Barbarian you might wish to abrogate that declaration. We already have him right here.", baleful in tone and purpose was Pierre for the contempt under these circumstances. Barring the company of the Warden Commander and the disgraced 2nd in command, the Chevalier perceived this mission as a ruse, a juvenile endeavor for further glory to supplement more prestige. Pierre de Montfort arrogated seniority in his mind, although earnestly despite his years within service probably ranked lower than her pet knife-ear Shaethari. Behind the elegant armored mask was a shorter stature man of Orlesian blood, vibrant with hints of aging through his graying slicked back brown hair, atheletic form from a decade in the ranks of the Chevaliers and when bared a dazzling smile. A meager glance at the beast he mentioned, he sneered in disgust knowing it wouldn't dare become confrontational unless physically provoked. "Commander, how far along are we on this wild chase?" The tall, imposing beast of a Tal-Vashoth procrastinated over the significance of this ordeal, already hampered by the outcries of certain wardens and the unrelenting dangers of the dark spawns. Enticement for combat broke him from his timid nature, a notable attribute only Shaw knew partially about due to the treatment he faced under the Qun. Visually and statistically, Sojan was deemed an abnormally large, extremely muscular Qunari that a nickname christened in the days as a mercenary and the ignorant as Ogre. A mountainous warrior, his horns protruded out, obsidian in shade closer to the darker grey hue almost symbolic of his passage into the wardens. A maroon Vitaar smeared onto his brawny hide, recognized that crafting armor was an exhausting attempt on resources and time. Only the Griffin embroidered bracers of metal were afforded to him as a piece of the uniform and protection. Animalistic red hues stared at the pompous Orlesian momentarily, very long, thick, swept-back white hair that resembled a mane in its unkempt fashion akin to the insults he fought back against by bestowing no reaction thus far. Building camp nearly improbable, pulling out a large beaten pavilion he utilized for an improvised bedroll for his immeasurable stature. Positioned in the camp near the Dalish, he maintained silence watching her, slowly leaning to the stone wall. Audibly slow with a strong, granite like voice he addressed her though it was simply from time for both of them mutually becoming more sociable. "Thoughts on what this cure is?

Omega was one of the seediest and most dangerous places you could find in the galaxy, and the only people who were there willingly were generally criminals or mercs. Everyone else, the little people who were just trying to get by, were only still there because they couldn't afford to escape. And there were a lot of them, poor unfortunate souls who had to suffer the abuse of those with more power and money. Making an honest living was nearly impossible, being a good person would get you killed, so most people had no choice but to resort to whatever methods they had to in order to survive. Tamsin was one of the few people on this station who actually tried to stay honest, which she credited mostly to her parents. Even despite them dying, Tamsin was trying to stay true to all the effort they'd made her entire life to be honest, good people. It had seemed like it might actually work too, but in the end Omega had won, and now they were dead. Tamsin was left alone, which she had never been before, and trying to survive. She didn't know how her parents had done it for so long. She was a very pretty young woman, beautiful even, and the number of offers she'd gotten to be a stripper or even a prostitute since being essentially dumped from the nest was outrageous. Even more outrageous was the money that she could make doing that, but There was one thing that her parents had taught her that kept her from it, not her morals or humility, but the fact that all it took was selling yourself once, and Omega owned you. Not her. Tamsin was going to get off this rock, and in order to do that and be left intact when she did leave, she was going to have to do it the old-fashioned way. So she worked as much as she could at a bar not too far from her apartment, called The Red Tag, as a waitress and whatever else they needed, saving up money as much as she could on top of what her parents had left her. The bar never actually closed, Omega had no day or night, it never slept, but she did, so when her shift finally ended Tamsin headed home, feeling dirty and exhausted. Her long blonde hair, a genetic rarity these days, was pulled back in a ponytail out of her face, green eyes tired, still wearing her work clothes, a knee-length black skirt and a V-neck blue t-shirt. A lot of the girls at work wore far showier clothes, Tamsin only made herself wear something that showed this much cleavage and skin so she got better tips. She got felt up and harassed enough even with this relatively modest style, she didn't want to think about what it would be like if she wore some of the stuff her coworkers did. Even walking home she could feel eyes on her, she was young, pretty, alone. Tamsin kept a gun in her purse and had had a taser installed into her omni tool, she wasn't stupid after all, and she'd had to use both. This was Omega, there was only rule, and that was not to fuck with Aria, if you weren't her you were free game. And batarian slavers loved to snatch people if given the chance, and there were other predators out there. So Tamsin walked quickly and kept her eyes down, hoping that if she ignored everyone else, they would just leave her alone.

Omega, what a shit hole. From its slums to its merc groups, it is filled with scum. Eclipse, Blue Suns, Blood Pack... All left to operate freely, the only semblance of order coming from the most dangerous one of them all - Aria. It would be a lie if Garrus said he felt safe operating freely throughout the scummy world's different sectors. Out of all his growing enemies, the only one he truly feared pissing off was the only one he knew could snuff him and everything he worked towards out within an instant. Here she was, queen, and hopefully with this man's help... Garrus turned as he heard a man's voice speak out. The Turian quickly played along, seeing the man's ploy. "So, Gary, how are the kids?" "Not bad," Garrus replied with his usual melodic voice. "They're pretty green around the ear but they're learning to stand on their own two feet." The man raised his shades, revealing glasses that didn't seem to fit in with either the current era or space. Black shirt, brown jacket, blue jeans - his current attire. As soon as the last person passed them by, the man stood straight from the wall he leaned against and walked forward to pass Garrus a small drive. "This is my credit chit," Garret said smoothly. "Try to transfer the funds smoothly. After all, this job is dangerous and discretion is key if we wish to ever part from this arrangement with all our bits intact." Garrus swiped his omnitool near the device. "Figure of speech, buddy. Besides, Aria's a woman; do you really put it past her to cut off a few pieces you really want to keep?" Garrus gave a slight laugh, his mouth gaping slightly before retorting. "Asari don't really have a gender one way or the other but I think I get your point. And while you needlessly worry about your private parts, I will be doing some actual good on this planet." Garret backed away, leaning against the wall as a very attractive blonde woman passed them both by. "Oh, says the guy whose bits are probably tucked away somewhere in there," Garret said, leaving Garrus to cock his head slightly. "What? You're like some lizard-bug-fucking bird thing. I assume your stuff is...you know, deep in there?" Garrus shakes his head, groaning slightly in annoyance. But soon laughing it off, the Turian rubbing his hand across his face as a pretty clear sign of his stress. "Yeah, you know, you're a funny guy. But in not so endearing way, like a simpleton everyone just ignores because he is the way that he is and just can't help it." Garrett smiled, looking over to see a rather dangerous-looking group of thugs pass them by. "Well, ya know," he said. "We all have our charms. Mine just so happen to be unedited and filthy. Any way, I wouldn't worry too much about my part of this deal. Just remember, we don't know each other. When we are together, your name is Garry. I don't know your real name because, fuck if I care. And you owe me a lot of money. That's our story, stick to it. Aria mainly employs Battarians and to them, you Turian look all the same. As long as we are quick and quiet, no one will know." Garrett began to let his eyes follow those hooligans, Garrus doing the same, as they seemed to draw closer and closer to the girl that just passed them by. "How do I know I can trust you not to betray me?" Garrus asked. "What a dumb question," Garret replied. "You can't be certain. Don't trust me, just trust my greedy, gleeful haste to take home two separate checks. Guard some sexy space babe, spy on her, and in return lots of profit. Besides, this wouldn't be hurting her none. It is just making sure you don't fuck with Aria right?" Garrus nodded as one of the goons grabbed the blonde's shoulder. "Good," Garrett said. "Well then, cowboy, you have a missy to save." With that, Garret was off, and Garrus was already on his way towards the girl. "Hey, you look lonely," the Turian goon began as Garrus slowly walked over. "Care to join us?" The Batarian asked in a deep, low voice. The man practically groaning like a filthy pig, as his hand carelessly gripped against her ass. They slowly began to pull her into the alley. As the human's omnitool formed a short blade, using it to rip into her shirt. With little chance to respond, the Turian already ripped into her bra, his scaled finger's kneading into the soft flesh, a satisfied hum reverberating from his throat. But unbeknownst to them, they may as well all have been named Schrdinger's cat...As they were already dead. Garrus walked slowly behind them, like a whisper, to quiet then his size gave him any right to be. Slowly, placing on his helmet, the Turian made his way over to the would-be rapist's. Slamming, then dragging the human's head into the alleyway's metal wall, indenting a stud into the man's temple. Before either of the other two knew what was happening, he had already pulled forth his pistol. Whipping it into the Batarian's face as he tripped the Turian to the ground. Point blank, the Batarian was shot right in the head. The Barrel close enough to muzzle the noise slightly. After all, it was still gang territory... Garrus then placed his foot against his fellow Turians throat, pressing long and hard against it, until he heard the sound he was waiting for.... Crack. Looking down into the woman's eyes, he knew this seemed so cold, calculated and callous... And it was. But he had slowly grown to become so numb to violence, especially as he had now sunk into that darkness. Treading the deep waters of vigilantism. "Are you ok?" He asked, his helmet working to mask his voice. He could only be one person, one man... The famed Archangel. And, as a gentle hand pressed against her arm, the Turian pulled her slowly away from the alley. "Come on, quickly. They wouldn't be alone, I would hate to scare you any further but I insist on taking you home mam. Dragging and screaming if necessary." He said so in such a sweet tone, but his word's were completely serious. The man's long arm wrapping around her. But only to help cover her now naked frame, revealed to the world for any passerby to see. For her sake, he had hoped she did not live too far. ~

It was an uneventful morning at Kojima High School for Sakura Kasugano and her friends. No thugs came out from the shadows to pick fights with the schoolkids, no evil mastermind was plotting a diabolical scheme, and even Karin Kanzuki, Sakura's rival, decided not to be a complete bitch with both her money and influence. Ibuki and Makoto found the slow morning relaxing. Still, Sakura had a feeling that today would be something special. And she wasn't wrong! You see, there in Japan was the site of the seventh annual Street Fighter tournament. Fighters from all over the globe had traveled to this place for their chance at big money or plenty of reknown for their efforts. They wanted to be known as the grand champion, the Earth's mightiest warrior! The fact that the tournament was sponsored and orchestrated by Shadaloo didn't seem to bother them as much as it should have, though some fighters like Cammy, Chun-Li, and Crimson Viper were on their toes for anything suspicious or juicy that could help them bring down that organization. However, for someone like Sakura, the tournament was like one big fiesta, a grand party that anyone could attend. Once school was over for the day today, she would head out and meet with all her friends before participating in the tournament. Oh, she could just feel that this day would be so much fun for everybody!

Space, the final frontier - a place where man has yet to explore even .1% of this massive horizon and sea of stars. Hanging over the little blue planet known as Earth, a small twinkle could be seen clear as day heading straight for Earth. The space satellites in its way would be blown away in an instant. The unknown object then broke the atmosphere of planet Earth, conveniently smashing right into the courtyard of Kojima High School. The smoke and debris cleared, and when it did, and the early morning folk gathered around to see what had landed. The sound of a door opening was made out. The object lying in the center of the school's courtyard was indeed a UFO carrying within it a single E.T. woman with wriggling tendrils for arms, legs, and hair. Her face was pretty, but the moment she saw all the people gathered around her petite lips raised in a happy little grin. "Such... delicious-looking carriers," she said. Her tendrils soon shot out aiming numerous appendages about them, binding about targets surrounding her. Tendrils ripped at uniforms and clothing, tearing at that which she couldn't reach. The screams of terror filled the air, as well as the sounds of women and others getting their orifices drilled by numerous tendrils. Anyone who stopped to stare was soon being grabbed left and right, stripped, and then drilled and pumped full of a strange substance along with what felt like rocks being piled up inside their bodies - eggs, it seemed, from this extra-terrestrial. This being seemed to have not come in peace at all.

No one really knew when it started or when things changed. But for as long as history books could remember, there had always been writing on humans' hands - a connection, a link to the one person in the world who would understand you and accept you; your soul mate. The missing half of the soul, a bond that would stand the test of anything the world threw at it. A soul mate. Writings appeared, written in scrawly, loopy, beautiful letters...whatever your mate wrote like, the words showed. Sometimes they were innocent, in children, pictures. As people grew, the lists became less innocent, less sure. And more hidden. In Dean Winchester's case, his handwriting had gone from innocent drawings and lists to blood-soaked hands and powder burns. He saw slender pale scars starting to decorate knuckles or see the edge of scars from a bracelet digging in - a bracelet that didn't belong to him but left small scars all the same. Years of innocence gone in a wash of blood and the roar of the Impala. Which was fine. He'd learned to live with one-night stands and hunting, turning his whole life over to making sure that most of the populace got to go on in peaceful ignorance. Except the writing that was smudged and worn showing up on his palm across the hell hound bite: 785-555-0128, followed by DW, call if not erased, send to... As if whoever was at the other end expected someone besides her soul mate to call, and was trusting that her soul mate might call, might get in touch with the hunter, who would end things. Except the last bit was a jumbled tangle of letters, not able to see where he was supposed to go, only that she was in trouble.

Dean had never always been hard and cynical about the idea of a soulmate. When he was a child, living under the wrath and control of John Winchester, the person on the other side of the line had often been the only comfort he had. Before he could truly read or write, he drew small faces or animals to communicate. As he got older, the messages went faster - minutes instead of hours. As he grew up, the messages took longer and longer to arrive as people started to second-guess themselves and bow under the weight of society, and none had bowed, or rather broken under that weight more than Dean had. John Winchester had broken him and rebuilt him, and the hunting had taken over everything until it was all he knew and all he could do. He was broken, and because of that, after the age of sixteen, he never wrote on his hand again, and while he noticed the notes and the lists and the information and the drawings she sent him, and he did know it was a she, he ignored them as best as he could, and over time ignoring them got easier, and pretending he wasn't hurting inside got easier, and ignoring the aching, howling void inside of himself got so easy he had almost forgotten it was there. When John had died, he had thought about telling her, but decided it would be easier to just pretend she had never existed. She probably thought he was a mass murderer anyway, with all the blood he always had on his hands. Sam never asked about why Dean never wrote on his hands. Dean was glad for that - Sam just assumed Dean didn't do it where other people could see. As children aged into adults, it became more and more like a private thing until most adults did it behind closed doors so no one else could see. It was an intimate thing, really. Sharing yourself with someone else so openly. Dean knew that Sam only wrote things when he had enough privacy. He was thus very surprised when his own number appeared on his hand, over what had once been a scar where a hellhound had gotten hold of his hand. Cas had healed the surface scars, but hadn't been able to heal the ropey scars underneath his skin. Not that he cared - it helped him remember not to be so stupid, but now there was a plea for help on his hand from his soulmate. "Fuck..." he mumbled. "SAM!!!" he yelled, writing down the jumble of letters before they started to fade. "SAM GET UP!

God, help me. It felt like just yesterday that Naomi's life had been perfectly normal. Her day-to-day life had involved simple things like lounging out in her apartment, feeding her cat, going to work. It was a routine that the twenty-five year old had grown comfortable with, content even. Life had been good. It still would have been good if shit hadn't hit the fan - it felt like one moment things were okay and the next the news had devolved into chaos, people were fleeing, and the seemingly dead refused to fall down. The next thing she knew, her building was being raided by the military and she found herself thrown in to some large room, which looked like a warehouse of some sort, with fences forming walls between what seemed like hundreds of other people. Maybe she was overestimating, maybe she was terrified. The fact that her cellmates included a boy with junkie jitters and a man who seemed way too stoic given the situation they had been forced in to. They barely got out, Naomi and Nick and Strand? Yes, those were their names, she was pretty sure of it - they got pulled along by a group of people who, from what Naomi understood, were Nick's family and a couple others who were looking for one of their family members. It was chaos trying to get everyone together, and even more chaos trying to get out. Alicia had felt virtually useless left back at the cars, left having to keep a watchful eye on her younger step-brother, Chris. Gunshot after gunshot had run out in the background, and with every loud bang, Alicia had felt more and more on edge. Her mom was gone, Travis was gone, everyone had left in hopes of finding her brother, Chris's mom and Griselda Salazar. She was terrified that they would never come back, though she refused to admit it. The only thing that could have been worse was if Thomas had left - lucky for her, though, her childhood love had refused to leave her side. She wasn't sure what she would have done if he'd left her, she felt bad enough seeing the traces of blood oozing from his nose where he'd been hit with the butt of a gun. She was fussing over him when everyone returned, bringing in two unfamiliar faces. Alicia looked them over from her spot at her boyfriend's side, concerned about what adding two more strangers would do to their safety. One of them had a plan, though - the black one, Strand, he had somewhere they could go. "Can we really trust them?" Alycia questioned quietly as everyone was getting ready to head out, looking up at Thomas and then eyeing both of the unfamiliar faces. Meanwhile Naomi was thinking pretty much the same thing, both relieved to have other people around but at the same time concerned because she knew not one of them.

Drug addictNick Clarkhas always been in and out of rehab. His father died six years ago and now his mother was starting a new life with a man named Travis. Nicks addiction certainly did not help this transition and his condition only worsened as the years passed. Meanwhile, his sister Alicia had it together.Thomas Ridley, her boyfriend, planned to attend college at the University of California: Berkley together. Both of them were high school seniors looking forward to their departure from the area. The young man would be attending college with a full ride because of football and he was excited to play Division I football, the highest of all levels. Additionally, he intended to major in Electrical Engineering, wanting to make plenty of money for himself and Alicia in the future. While Nicks life was in shambles, Thomas life was all figured out but that was all about to change. Reports had surfaced across five states of a breakout of a strange disease that caused people to attack other people. Its exact biological classification was unknown. This disease also has been known to inspire flu-like symptoms before it took a turn for the worse. Everything happening resembled a science-fiction movie and everyday life was now turned into a living nightmare. Approximately two weeks ago, Nick awakened in the morning inside of a run-down church serving as a crack house where he and his friend Gloria got high on heroin the night before. He searched the building to find Gloria eating a dead man with a chewed-out neck. She stood with a knife sticking out of her abdomen and chased Nick until he was able to escape the church and run into the street, being struck by a vehicle and then taken to the hospital. Even though he told his family what he saw, everyone just wrote him off as being high but Nick was truly frightened by his experience. Eventually, Travis and Madison investigated the church to find evidence of a recent, bloody scene. Thats when they realized Nick was telling the truth about what he saw and it was real. The next day, Nicks roommate in the hospital flat lined and Nick was able to escape his restraints before stealing the older mans clothes and sneak out of the hospital. Only a couple days before, Thomas's mother passed away. She worked as a nurse at the local hospital in Los Angeles. Apparently, she became infected during one of the first epidemics to reach their area of California. The only thing offered to Thomas was a phone call and nothing more. It was too dangerous to see his mother's corpse or so they told him. At this point, Thomas was basically homeless. His father died when he was six years old, killed in the line of fire just doing his duty as a police officer. Ever since then, his mother went on a downward fall, becoming addicted to alcohol and drugs. Thomas always had to be the man of the house because he needed to survive and so did his older sister by three years, Brooke. If college was possible, they both needed to be smart and athletic: so they both were. Currently, his sister was away at New York University but the phone lines were down and she would have no idea what happened to their mother. It was completely heartbreaking. Fewer and fewer students arrived to school each day due to the mysterious influenza that was spreading. Videos of an attack on the interstate surfaced and school was closed down after half a day. Nick found his dealer, Calvin, to ask if he gave him something in the last batch of drugs. They met at a diner but Calvin intended to kill him down by the river. They fought and the gun went off, shooting Calvin in the stomach before Nick fled the scene. Afterwards, he found Travis and his mother and they investigated the scene. A reanimated corpse of Calvin tried to attack but they were able to kill the monster with a few hits from the truck. He seemed almost unstoppable. When they finally arrived home, the plan was leave for the desert. Travis felt the need to bring his son and ex-wife along but they would not be so willing to go. Travis was forced into the city to find his son amidst violent protestors. During the riots, they took shelter in some shop owned by the Salazar family. This family helped Travis, Liza, and Chris to escape and therefore, Travis invited them along too. After an incident with an infected neighbor reaching the inside of their house, Travis arrived back home. They were all preparing to leave the neighborhood but a military quarantine was placed and nobody was allowed to leave. Nearly ten days or so after the military began occupying the streets, Griselda and Nick were taken by the guards. Nick was taken to some military base and held in a cell with a man named Victor Strand and a woman named Naomi. Infected attacked the camp and Nicks family were able to rescue him but Griselda had already been killed. When they were all rejoined, their reunion was short lived because they needed to move quickly. With urgency building, Liza took the lead and showed the way out of the facility. Thomas just had an altercation with a few soldiers. Himself, Alicia, and Chris were tasked with watching their car with the supplies but three soldiers arrived and stole the car. Before doing so, they threatened Alicia and thats where Thomas made his stand. He landed at least one shot in each of their faces before receiving a devastating blow to his face from the butt of a rifle. He might be strong but the metal catching his face made him seem like a mere mortal. Thankfully, they were left alone after that and Thomas watched when everyone arrived back at their rendezvous point. He saw a couple new faces as well. Looking to his girlfriend, all he did was shrug silently because they needed to get a move on. They had time to worry about everything else later. Pinching his nose together, Thomas started walking alongside Alicia, following everyone else.

The corridor was busy, full of hopeful people wanting to land a role in a film. What was great about this particular part was that the person didn't need any acting experience. The director wanted someone unknown. This of course brought with it hundreds of girls applying. Once it was narrowed down to ten, everyone was called in for a final audition. Cara sat there in the chair, next to go in behind the large oak door before her. To her right, there were still four more girls waiting to be seen. Thankfully she wasn't last, she had already been waiting two hours. "I messed up!" A girl came out, crying, hands shaking in front of her face. Everyone else in the chairs turned to watch the female take the walk towards the exit before they all switched their attention to the left when Cara was called in by an assistant. "Your next," being shown in, the door was shut behind her which made her jump. Looking nervous, she stood there as the assistant went up to the man, handing him Cara's file before telling him she was going for her lunch. The two were left alone.

The man was sitting at his desk as the women entered and hadn't bothered to get up. He took the file from the assistant and used it to point to a chair opposite his desk telling her simply to "Sit". And that was it for the next few minutes in the way of conversation. The man sipped a coffee and leafed wordlessly through the information and headshots. There was, as expected, nothing special about her. Of course it didn't matter. What mattered was that they were in fact looking for a star today, but not for the role they had advertised. Nearby, on a bookshelf a small camera was recording everything that went on. It watched as the man dropped the file on the desk and leaned back clasping his large hands across his stomach. "I'll be honest. You're pretty enough for Hollywood, and every bit talented enough (a lie). The problem is there are three other girls just as good. It's honestly a toss-up, and there's only one way I can think of to make a decision." The man leaned forward and put his elbows on the desk. "If you're here you should be pretty familiar with the industry. Have you ever heard of the casting couch?

Seto Kaiba had done many amazing things throughout the years of his life. Taking control of his adoptive father's business and shifting it to the polar opposite of the once prolific arm dealing company, games. His rise to the top of the powerful world of business assisted by the visionary of his "solid image" system and the card game Duel Monsters. Though he had once reigned undisputed in all things, he found himself unable to take one thing for himself - the title of "The King of Games", a title he had made specifically for himself stolen by his lifetime rival. Now that rival was gone, returned to the land of the dead leaving behind his vessel and the knowledge that now Seto would never be able to have his redemption against the ancient spirit. The fact gnawed at him from behind, causing him to obsess over the thought of dueling the pharaoh again and finally settling the score. Though usually dismissive of the occult and supernatural, Seto could not disavow the mystical nature of his foe and thus was powerless with his technology to return him to this plane. He slammed a clenched fist into the arm of his chair at the thought, it was a fact he knew all too well that his mind would remind him of constantly. Sighing, he leaned back in his chair as he rubbed his eyes. The door to his office opening as one of his loyal subordinates came in. "Master Kaiba, the preparations are complete for the experiment. We only await your presence." Standing, the CEO walked around his desk and collected a locked case sitting by its side. "Has our VIP arrived yet?" "Yes sir, she was brought in earlier, albeit slightly annoyed at the summons we were able to convince her to come and assist as per your orders," the man replied. Kaiba nodded as they entered an elevator and descended into the basements below the company building, stepping out and proceeding to the lab. Once inside he would see his "guest", Ishizu Ishtar, a woman he met during one of his tournaments. She had predicted his fall and been wrong, despite this though he knew she understood two things he did not. The first being the occult, the second ancient Egyptian speech. Unlocking his case, he produced the one thing more important than near everything in his life: his deck. He recalled the time he had hallucinated himself back in the Ancient Egyptian times, though now he was not sure it was a hallucination. There he saw a man looking much like himself and a young girl that had seemingly been the will of his most powerful servant, The Blue-Eyes White Dragon. Drawing three powerful cards from his deck, he placed them in a triangle formation on the ground before walking out of the chamber. The men worked the console as he observed. Numbers and words flashing along the screens as the ceiling tiles of the chamber opened to lower a familiar item into view: the Millennium Rod. Remembering the priest having used this item, he concluded that it might be needed for this ritual to work. Multiple electrodes focused onto the object as the eye began to glow, the three dragons sharing its brilliance. "Now then," Kaiba said, "let's see what comes out, shall we?

Ishizu Ishtar Peace. Harmony. Faith. Hope. Finally, these aspects had coated the world - specifically Domino City - over the past two years. The last bits of chaos seemed to vanish as Atem was able to be put to rest. The moment had been bittersweet for everyone, including the now twenty-two year old priestess herself. Still, as a priestess devoted to the Egyptian gods, she knew the duel between Atem and Yugi had been essential. It just wouldn't have otherwise been right or fair to force Atem to not be given the afterlife he deserved. Normally, she devoted herself to the goddess her counterpart had been named after, Isis. But Ishizu could safely know and say that on the day Yugi had competed versus the Pharaoh, she definitely sent up many silent prayers to Anubis in hopes that he would favor Atem. Suffice to say, she was glad - even to this day - those pleas had appeared to be heard. Naturally, everyone had gone their own separate ways. Yugi and the others were focusing on their school, at least this was true according to what she'd heard. The biggest surprise had come from both Odion and her brother, as both agreed to go back to Egypt and try to take their positions as the family 'guardians' once more. After how long he fought against those duties and obligations? Interesting ... Her eyes closed as a faint smile crossed her face. Alas, her reminiscing was rather abruptly interrupted by a firm hand landing on her shoulder. The blue eyes of the priestess quickly opened as she turned away from the stone tablet that had been in front of her and saw some very nicely dressed men in black suits. "May I help you?" Ishizu asked calmly, fighting the urge to narrow her eyes. It was no mystery whom these men were; they no doubt belonged to Seto Kaiba, as his employers were infamous for looking like they belonged to the yakuza rather than someone who was in charge of a company linked to a card game. However, any lingering doubts on whom these men were quickly vanished as they explained the reason for being in the museum. "Seto-sama has requested your presence, Miss Ishtar," she merely was told. That certainly made her raise an eyebrow. "Oh? You sure he asked me? He's ... well .... himself. The last time we spoke, he just scoffed at me and ignored --- hey! What are you doing?!" No verbal response was given. All Ishizu got for an answer was being yanked out of the museum and into a black limousine which had been parked outside. "W-Wait! What's this about?!" Ishizu wasn't quite panicked, per se. But now, her attention had definitely been grabbed as well as herself. "You'll see .... " Suffice to say, those last words had stayed with her the entire ride there. This abrupt encounter was not sitting well with her. Even without the Millennium Necklace, Ishizu was feeling anything but good about this. Thankfully, the silence was broken as the car came to a halt, with her door being the first to be opened. A hand began to reach in before she smacked it away and stepped out of the limousine herself. "I can walk fine," she muttered, "Just focus on leading the way to where exactly he is." That seemed to be good enough for them, luckily, as they made no attempt to grip her again. A brief walk later, she found herself in ... what was this exactly? It was hard to say, but if Ishizu had to label it as anything, it would be a slightly half-assed attempt at some sort of ritual chamber. "Seto-san, do you mind explaining what .... ??" Her eyes widened as a glint of gold reflected in her eyes. Ishizu felt her heart sink as she turned and found it to be none other than the Millennium Rod. "You ... you took that back?! Why?! We put the Millennium Items away to help ensure Atem could be put to rest properly!" It took a lot to get the priestess annoyed, let alone sincerely angry. But right then and there, she definitely was fuming. And for a damn good reason. As a traditionalist, his removal of the rod was a very taboo gesture in itself. And more and more, she was starting to feel as if whatever she had been dragged into would be even worse than mere theft. "What is going on?" she asked, trying her best to maintain a relatively calm and collected composure, though the sight of the Rod made it much easier said than done to go through with.

Kara flew low, weaving between buildings as she cruised the streets of Metropolis' downtown district, a blue and red blur against the darkening evening sky. This was prime time for superhero patrols, but for all that Supergirl had her costume on this was actually her night off patrolling. Batman was on the streets, her cousin was in the skies watching for criminal activity, the rest of the Justice League was either on monitoring at home or relaxing themselves. For her? Well... She would have been at home but tonight was a special night. She'd been getting antsy of late, a familiar itch that she always found a little awkward to scratch. The only other Kryptonian on Earth was related to her, and 'stress relief' with another member of the Justice League had been something she'd tried once and only once. The experience itself had been fun, but the awkwardness that had followed hadn't been worth it. So she cruised the streets, looking for a few guys. Not scum or anything, but some nice strapping young men, a group of three or so at the very least since a single human man would struggle to satisfy her on his own. (It was not so much a matter of ability or size but a matter of stamina to tell the truth.) The kind of guys that would never be able to convince anyone they'd managed to score with Supergirlbut were still good looking and reasonably experienced... There! A grin parted Kara's lips and she swooped in, touching down in front of them and cocking her hips. "Hey boys... I need a little bit of help, 'Scratching an Itch', you know how it is?" She waggled her eyebrows at them. "Interested?

Michael and his two friends, Kevin and Zach, were making their way down the streets of Metropolis, dressed in nice polo shirts and pants as they were on their way to the bars for the evening, hoping to hook up with some ladies for the night after a long day at work. Little did they know what was in store for them this evening. Seeing members of the Justice League was hardly an odd sight these days; it made everyone in town feel safe and more at ease knowing that such amazing superheroes were watching their backs. Still, it was rare for normal people like Mike and his friends to ever engage or interact with any superhero. So it came as a surprise to all three of them when Supergirl swooped down in front of them. They stood in awe of her for a few moments before they managed to hear what she asked them. "By 'itch,' you mean?" Zach asked somewhat meekly, his eyes avoiding hers as his face tinted a crimson red. He was the most shy and awkward of the bunch and it didn't help that he had a crush on Kara too. Zach was white and shorter than the others with a small but well-toned body that he managed to hide rather well as his arms were quite toned and developed from his work. Mike didn't waste time as he gave Kara a grin. "You want us to fuck you...is that it?" He asked with a pleasant tone to finish Zach's question as he used one hand to push up his glasses while the other reached out and groped one of Kara's lovely breasts through her leotard as he licked his lips. Mike was a mix of Asian and white and thus had tanned skin. He was tall and quite fit from his work and the fact that he played soccer on his spare time. Kevin was even more forceful as he simply pressed his lips up roughly against hers, his tongue lashing at her lips and seeking to gain entrance to her mouth as his strong arm wrapped around her waist and his hand spanked her ass and groped her rear. Kevin was black and like Mike, he was tall and extremely well built as Kara could tell from how strongly he held her and how defined his muscles were. Still weak, compared to her, but pretty good for a human.

Rey took a deep breath, his small body jogging softly on the spot. He had just entered the ring, watching his opponent approach with a belt on his shoulder. It was the night after Wrestlemania, and the new champion had announced a challenge that no cruiserweight could take the WWE World Championship belt from him, and Rey was quick to answer the call. "I hear voices in my head," he said, "they council me, they understand, they talk to me." Randy Orton's theme played loudly throughout the Smackdown arena as he approached, loving the attention of the crowd. The man was an impressive wrestler, so Rey would not take this lightly. Eventually the man performed his famous stance, with his arms spread and looking very in control of his emotions, letting nothing show on his face. A moment later, the bell rung loudly and the match began. Rey had versed Randy many times before, so he knew effective ways to counter the man. Ducking under clotheslines and aiming for the head, he hoped this would go down fairly easily. Unfortunately Randy was quite strong, so a lot of the Cruiserweight's high-flying moves ended up in the smaller man caught and thrown across the square circle. Finally making the champion woozy, Rey managed to set up the 619. Gripping his opponent between his legs, Randy was soon thrown into the ropes, a strong two-foot kick connecting against his face. Left standing, Rey jumped on the top rope and flew towards his opponent. What he did not anticipate was Randy to snap out of it, countering Rey's finisher with one of his own. "RKO! RKO!" The announcers yelled excitedly. A pin followed. "One... Two... Thr-" The ref called, but the masked man kicked out, panting softly and looking in pain. Clearly frustrated, Randy approached the opposite corner and taunted, seeming as if the voices were talking to him, waiting for his prey to stand for a second RKO. And from Rey's condition, it did not look like he would survive a second RKO...

Stacy Kiebler had been watching from behind the Gorilla position, a concerned look admittedly on her pretty face as the much smaller Rey Mysterio was taking on the multiple time WWE champion Randy Orton. The Viper was a dangerous opponent, she knew that for sure. She remembered way back when he first started as a young, floppy haired newcomer, and to see him go from that to the tattooed, buzz cut, emotionless wrestler that he was now was jarring to her, very, veeeery jarring. When she'd decided to come back, a lot had changed, but the former Miss Hancock was getting well used to being in the squared circle again. Rey on the other hand? He was much smaller, but he had speed on his side as well as more experience, she'd remembered him fondly during their time in WCW and the Mexican high flyer had wowed her with not only his moves, but the way that he carried himself. Confident and a heart of gold; kids absolutely loved him and she could see why. However though, as the match progressed she could see that Rey was in trouble. While Orton wasn't the biggest wrestler there he was still taller and stronger than the speedster he was wrestling and was subsequently giving a beating to. Even Rey's high flying moves had been countered and Stacy suspected that it was from them facing each other plenty of times in the past and so Randy knew how to handle himself. When Rey set Orton up for the West Coast Pop she knew there was a chance he could pull and upset and get the gold, but the RKO from nowhere made her wince and watch, pacing worriedly. But...he'd kicked out! Letting out a sigh of relief, the former Duchness of Dudleyville watched carefully, knowing that if Randy hit this next RKO Rey would be done for. She wasn't about to let that happen! Something compelled her to come running through the Gorilla position and out of the curtains, then down the ramp, the crowd, a good portion of the male population especially, popping when the saw the leggy, gorgeous woman, still in her wrestling gear, run down and hop up on the canvas and against the rope, ignoring the referee telling her to leave as she turns around and bends over, showing her short-clad ass to the Viper in the hopes it would distract him enough to where Rey could get the upper hand again! She knew how to be a distraction...she just hoped it would be enough.

It was a late starry night on a lonely road in the northern Japanese countryside. A lone red car drove along carrying its single passenger, a recent high school graduate named Ryuko Matoi. She gripped the wheel firmly with an irritated yet depressed look on her face, "Why on Earth did they have to have their wedding at Lake Mashu? I know it's pretty but if the drive all the way there from Kanto wasn't bad enough now I have to drive all the way back out of bum-fuck nowhere by myself!" She relaxed a bit in her seat and continued to talk to herself, knowing no one was listening so there wasn't any harm in it. "Mako Gamagoori hmm? She finally got married. Settle down, start a family and have lots of little kids..." Ryuko took out a picture from under the dashboard and looked at it. "Mako...was there really anything between us? I guess in the end he gave you what I never could. Ah-" She shook her head. "Ugh, get a hold of yourself girl! You and Mako were always just friends...just...friends..." She paused. "Besides, she's a girl like me, we're both supposed to settle down with a nice husband right?" The car continued on for an hour or so in silence, save for the occasional sigh from its driver. The sky was beautiful that night. So far away from the big cities, you could see every star in the sky. Ryuko stared at the mesmerizing, nebulous abyss above and wondered. Wondering if things could have been different, wondering why after everything had happened she was the only one left that couldn't settle into a normal life. Her gaze drifted from the stars above back down to the red bride's maid dress she still had on. Eventually, the car slowed down until it stopped at the side of the road and the horn blarred at the empty road a moment later. "Damn it! You said you wouldn't do this," she yelled to herself as her fist smashed against the steering wheel. "You promised yourself you wouldn't cry! You knew this was coming, you were the first person she told when they got engaged... Damn it, damn it, damn it!" After moments of sulking, Ryuko eventually stepped out of the car. She took a seat on the hood and just stared at the night sky. "She's a girl like me...it isn't right for me to have these thoughts about her like this. I should be happy for her. But...what if she still has the same thoughts about me?" She shook her head, "No, I wouldn't want that. I wouldn't want to confuse her or get in between her and Ira. So... maybe I should just go away." She stayed quiet for a little while longer, thinking to herself. Sifting through memories and nostalgia, wondering why how she could feel this way about another woman. She had never really been with anyone of any gender. Suddenly, she burst out in laughter. "Look at yourself! Sitting on the side of the road in the middle of hick central! What, am I trying to get myself mugged?" She said with a laugh before standing up and getting back in her car. "I better get going before this turns into a scene from that Deliverance movie. Not that I'm scared of a couple of country bumpkins. Why are western movies so weird anyway?" Just as she was about to turn the key and start the engine again, she spotted something out of the corner of her eye. A bright light wizzing in and out of view. "What the hell?" She asked squinting at the light as it rapidly approached. She turned the key, but the engine didn't start. "Oh come on not now," she grunted in disappointment. Ryuko desperately tried to rev the engine as the light grew brighter and brighter. Panic began to set in swiftly but just as it seemed like the source of the light has reached her, she turned back to it with a challenging glare. And then... blackness.

How many promising young scientists were granted permission to head out into the outer reaches of known space? Okay, so technically the Solar System containing the planet "Earth" (and what an unimaginative name) wasn't quite on the outer reaches. It was more like territory that people had mapped out and explored to some degree, but hadn't really taken the time to slow down and analyze. Still, the position was not something that was generally handed to scientists first out of the Academy, no matter how promising they happened to be or what genetic clutching they happened to have hail from. So Akeema, third of her Clutching, had been thrilled with the prospect and put together a scientific shuttle post-haste. Naturally her ship had been equipped with the finest in observation technology, plus a heavy dollop of shielding and at least one or two cannons (because going into space without weaponry was asking for trouble; debris alone often hindered progress and exploration, let alone considering pirates or unfriendly natives). The shuttle could technically sustain a crew of four or possibly more if the species were smaller than Akeema. However, she'd opted for a solo mission, her reasoning being that if she needed to make any contact with the local species, only one "alien" would be preferable to a ship full of them. She'd been quite confident in her abilities and, in hindsight, she could admit this: she'd been fairly hungry for the glory that would come from a solo mission. For the most part, the ship was therefore comfortable. Akeema had more than enough room for experiments and studies, while still having a life-pod to keep her regular five hour sleep cycle somewhat steady, her race naturally preferring to sleep standing up due to their digitigrade legs and all. Not that they couldn't lie down; it wasn't as if they had swollen heads or anything. Some of their clutchings did possess impressive crests, but Akeema didn't really have quite that. She did have impressive psionic extensions, which she'd rather not caress too openly. Their glowing pink should've been an indicator even before she'd set forth, but no, she'd been eager and confident. And how her ovipositor was threatening to puncture her uniform. She could feel it throbbing between her legs, the eggs likely having been built up inside her body. Hell, they almost felt as if they'd somehow drifted into her tail, though she knew that to be physically impossible, if only because said tail kept twitching with light agitation. Frowning, Akeema's fingers flew across the dashboard, her vision blurring enough for her to blink both eyelids. She knew precisely what was wrong with her: she'd entered estrus, and a rather heavy one at that. It probably wouldn't have been so bad had she tended to her needs a few sleep cycles ago. She might have even been able to simply clutch inside one of the waste tubes and be done with it. But again: studying had come first, and so now the alien was fighting off a need that threatened to potentially permanently nibble at her excellent mind. Akeema leaned back and studied her monitors. She knew what she had to do. She'd heard tales of this sort of thing before, travelers picking up natives to either "study" or more likely enjoy. Why else would there be so many rumors about probing waste holes? It was considered highly unseemly and more than a little unprofessional, especially for someone such as herself, who was supposed to be here studying the civilizations. But given the biological imperative... she was fairly certain she could mark this one off. "Let's see," Akeema said, typing into her ship's computer. "According to research, I want somewhere away from urban centers, and likely in Japan." This latter came from watching human art forms, which seemed to like to pair the alien sexual encounters with the island nation. Akeema wasn't sure she saw the connection, but it would be easier to clutch in a Japanese female because of it. She entered the coordinates into her ship, letting it guide itself. She had to lean back, shivering with anticipation, her hands going to her lower torso, where she knew the eggs to already be percolating. The ship informed her of a lock on, letting her know that the transfer was going to drop the target into the cargo room. Akeema shifted the teleport, carefully guiding it to the receiving area for living targets. She already had a few lesser Earthing species in there, so hopefully it wouldn't surprise the target overmuch. Akeema caressed a psionic extension, knowing that she'd have to somehow convince the human to touch or be touched by it for communication to work. It did look a little like human hair, so perhaps that wouldn't be too strange? "Only you would worry about the meat-sack you're abducting to clutch in," muttered Akeema, sighing as she pushed away from her console and headed toward the transport room. It would at least look more or less like the humans' science fiction features, albeit with chairs suited to Akeema's slightly stiffer and heartier build: an open space with pads. Well, there were the open cells, where the psionically controlled species would be. Akeema didn't think she had anything dangerous or poisonous in there... she quickened her pace regardless, just in case.

THE ALLIANCE ARE HERE!" One of the Ogrimmar grunts yelled as they ran into the city. "Get those portals open men! We need to summon the rest of the force!" A commander yelled to the mages. Portals of all colors that showed the places of where they were connected to could be seen. Forsaken, Taruen, Trolls, Pandaren, Goblins, and even the Blood Elves started pouring out of the portals as each one was armed and ready for war. The Alliance had come yet again and this time the war was brought to their main home, Ogrimmar. On the other side of the portal inside of Silvermoon City... Himeko Sunsorrow stands there in line waiting to go through the portal when suddenly dark portals start opening up all around the city. "DEMONS!!! Demons are pouring out of the portals!" One of the Silvermoon guards screams as the powerful smell of fel and demons begins to fill the air with its heaviness. Himeko looks around and sees some cloaked figures and can't help but yell at them, "Hey! Just what the hell do you think you're doing?!" She then starts chasing after them with her spirit beast Tosho, a large snow leopard. She manages to keep up with them till they make it to the dark forests of the Ghost Lands. There they all split up leaving Himeko to only follow one, but to her one was enough for now. She doesn't know who or what she is chasing just that the cloaked figure is Alliance or something else, but definitely not Horde though. Just as she finally manages to catch up, she sees it's too late; another portal is open this time the fel is stronger than when she was in the city. No, this is happening when one gets too close to a demon's portal.

Lilita's eyes flared green with fel energy as she worked with the portal. She had no time to create a ritual circle, no space, but the bindings on a doomguard were a part of the spell itself and while preparation strengthened those bindings she could reinforce them on her own. Her other summons and pets were down for the count, expended in the assault on Silvermoon, a doomguard was all she could manage with her other resources exhausted. Unfortunate then, that the faith she held in the strength of her own magicks would prove to be misplaced... The demon stepped forth, a hulking red-skinned behemoth who looked down at her with a snarl. It flexed, and Lilita felt it exert pressure on the wards, felt them bend as she poured power back against it. "Kill her!" She screamed, hoping to distract the demon with the promise of slaughter as she sensed another life approach, but while the demon's eyes flicked towards Himeko for a brief moment, they snapped back to the draenei a moment later and with a casual -almost contemptuous- ease, Lilita felt the bonds snap. The demon freeing itself in an instant of effort before lunging towards her. She was not the least agile mage by a long shot, but she was no warrior, and she moved too slowly to stop the great blade from piercing straight through her in one smooth motion. Her mouth went slack, gurgling as pain exploded through her body, mercifully short lived as the demon twisted the sword, snapping her spine and removing all agony below her stomach. The black specter of death that rushed up to meet her as she slid off the blade and to the ground with a wet thump took the rest of the pain away, released into death. Then the demon turned its eyes on the Blood Elf and -after a long moment of consideration, stuck it's sword into the ground. "Felblood... Curious..." Its voice was a bass rumble, and Himeko would be able to feel the power in it before the demon reached out for her. "I think I will make you mine.

Riley Eliza Shaw was a twenty-one-year-old young female who was now a patient at Elizabeth Arkham Asylum after experiencing psychosis following traumatic experiences. Riley was unfortunately the daughter of one of Gotham's mobsters. He had run things differently, very cleanly, very business oriented. He gave his clients second chances and if things couldn't be resolved then he took measures accordingly. Her father had specialized in the distribution of illegal goods, drugs, money, anything important. That was until a villain named Black Mask had kidnapped her with several other relatives of other mobsters and kept them captive for over a month. Batman had come to her rescue; she had never been happier to see the hero who she had followed over the years. The dark knight of Gotham could do nothing but keep the young girl safe. The last thing she remembered was grabbing a gun to do something ill-rational and had blacked out, waking up in the asylum. Upon waking up strapped to a gurney in isolation, only dressed in a white t-shirt and bright orange scrub bottoms. She had a bracelet on her wrist saying her name and a barcode to scan, but her arms and wrist were restrained. She had been informed that she had tried to kill herself. They had diagnosed her with PTSD at the moment. They would keep her under observation for 48 hours before releasing her into a normal patient room. This was to ensure her own safety. She thought she had heard whispers between the staff about giving her IV liquids; they said doctor Johnathan crane had requested the case as soon as she was admitted. Thank you for calling 1-800-SUICIDE. If you wish to self terminate by electric shock, press one. For termination by overdose, press two. If you would like to make a reservation at the end of our drowning pool, please press three. For death by self inflicting gunshot, press five. To speak to a representative, stay online. If you don't wish to die, please hang up now.

Jonathan Crane stood outside the padded room cell of Riley Shaw with a vanilla folder in his hand. He whispered softly to himself as he paced, trying to learn every detail about his new patient. "A surprise," he said to his assistant who stood beside him. "A month in captivity by The Black Mask and then rescued by Batman. Poor thing must have been scared to death." He stepped to the door and peered into the door at the beautiful girl inside. He was caught off guard; never had he found himself drawn to such a beautiful soul before. "She is" he stuttered, searching for the words as he wrestled with a new feeling inside of him. Maybe it was lust, maybe it was something else but he was drawn to this young woman. He quickly shut the vanilla folder and handed it to his assistant. "I need to meet with her as soon as possible. Have the warden bring her to my office." Jonathan turned to walk up the hallway toward his office was haste, in his mind he was preparing. He sat at his desk, taking a deep breath before he slid open his desk. He stared at who he truly was, the mask which defined him and made him one of the most feared men in Gotham City. He debated what his next move would be as he waited for Miss Shaw to be brought to him. Time passed in a moment until his door opened and she was lead into the room. Jonathan was snapped from a trance as he stared up at her once again. "Ah yes, thank you for bringing Miss Shaw to my office." Jonathan smiled as he stared at Riley. "You may leave now; I do not believe someone suffering from post-traumatic stress will be any issue." Jonathan watched as they led Riley to a seat and left the room. He locked the door behind them before he turned and stared at Riley. "So Miss Shaw, allow me to introduce myself" Jonathan told her as he stepped around his desk and took a seat. "I understand you met the Batman, you must be grateful he saved your life." Jonathan opened his drawer again, and stared at his mask. He was torn, he wanted to find out more about her and only when people were under great distress did they show their true selves. "Tell me something Miss Shaw, what are you truly scared of?" He asked as he took hold of his mask. "Who are you truly?" He slipped the mask on and turned to face her for an instinct. The Scarecrow, the master of fear within Gotham now stared at her. "What are you scared of Miss Shaw?" He asked before he held his hand up and blasted her face with his fear toxin.

Another dull day, it seemed. Jason Redd had tried everything to make the most out of his week off, but with three days left he had done absolutely fuck all. It wasn't that he hated socialization or that he had no money to do anything; he just adored playing video games, especially fighting games, and utilized most of the vacation to practice for an upcoming tournament. His main was particularly difficult to get ahold on, what with the multiple stances that Tae Kwon Do by its very nature came with, but he was determined to see it through. The martial art was always one of the more graceful, as well as being one of the most technical to master. At least, that was if fighting games were any indication. Jason took his tray of food, consisting of a slice of pizza, two breadsticks, and a medium cola, and went to a table that was entirely empty. He looked inconspicuous enough to not have anyone other him...except for the fact that he was eating in a mall alone. He had on a black t-shirt with no logos, a pair of dark blue jeans, and black sneakers on his feet. His hair was short, styled messy and colored black, while his eyes were a rather odd crimson. His skin was pale as snow as well, but he wasn't albino, he just had a series of odd traits befall him. He took a bite of pizza, thankful his phone wasn't buzzing at all in his pocket. His work was notorious for calling people in during their vacations, but, due to the already lax nature of the workload there, few people minded going in. He always wanted more for himself in a career, but Jason wasn't about to complain for relaxation. He was a very "go with the flow" type of guy. So, there he sat, eating his mock-Italian meal and savoring every bite of its greasy goodness. It wasn't so bad that the bad substance was dripping off if he held the slice vertical, but it certainly was no actual Italian pizza; he had been to Italy and had experienced that spectacular meal for himself.

Now, should anyone else look upon Jason and notice his affinity for dark attire, that raven-colored mop of hair and those odd crimson eyes, they would immediately assume that he was either weird, following one of those new-fangled cults that have popped up over the years, eagerly following the gothic movement or some twisted mixture of all three. People, especially those who didn't seem to contribute much to the world, were very quick to judge. But when a pair of bright violet irises zeroed in on the young man they were not filled to the brim with that judging venom or any other disgraceful emotion. No, the woman that these eyes belonged too instead perked up, put a halt to her swaying movements and pushed her way through the crowd of mall-goers as the man not only caught her attention but commanded it. This was the stride and gaze of a woman who got what she wanted - no questions asked, and if there were any problems, well, a broken limb or two would easily rectify it. After all, Juri Han wasn't someone you wanted to say no to, be next to or even worse, be the target of her attention/affections. Like the spider she was, Juri crept upon Jason with the greatest of ease until she was right behind him. It was such a strange sight - her with him, but this woman knew him, liked him and even more, enjoyed his company. Better yet the two of them had engaged in some more... ahem... illicit activities in the past and came out closer because of it all. Juri liked Jason because of so many things; factors beyond her control. If one were to question her tastes, the woman wouldn't be too happy to respond to it with civility. Once she was in position Juri reached out and tapped Jason's shoulder, dashed over to his other side when he looked to see who was there and then sat down beside him to both steal one of his breadsticks and to lean against his form. And let me tell you, when a busty, lithesome powerhouse of a South Korean was leaning against you, there was every cause for celebration. "Heeey," Juri purred in that sultry-sweet tone of hers. She waved her stolen breadstick and giggled. "Fancy meeting you here!

Aerith winced at the dryness in her throat. It had been at least a full day since she'd been given anything to drink, bound by her wrists to a crude scarecrow in a stone chamber carpeted by blooming flowers. They grew well in the pools of sunlight that filtered through the shattered roof of the building, somewhere in the slums of an unknown district of Midgar. Aerith knew nothing of where she truly was, or why she'd been imprisoned, or the identity of her captors. She knew only one thing. To live was to suffer. She longed for death, after so much degradation that life itself had become synonymous with misery. But above her head, the glowing halo of a re-raise spell reminded her that death was an impossibility. She'd tried enough times to know that whoever they were that kept her here, they would only refresh the spell if she managed to die. There was no escape, only submission to avoid the terrible penalties for defiance. And so she sat there, naked and afraid and alone, her body filthy with sweat and dirt in a dim chamber waiting for the next abuse, the next creative torture. She'd give anything for a drink at this point, drink anything. It didn't even matter if the others were alive or dead at this point, and she desperately hoped for the latter, to spare them the awful indignities of this place and its customers.

The place where the three heroines of Midgar had found themselves was in the clutches of one Matilda McFarside. A devious woman who made the owner of the Honeybee look like an upstanding gentleman, after Avalanche failed in its duty. Tifa, Yuffie, and Aerith had been captured, while the men had been sold to some mine in some far off country. The one known as Aerith had been tied to the scarecrow post. Her eyes blinded by a strip of cloth over them, and her naked body was basted with what looked like paste covered in flower seeds. Their plan was to make flowers bloom on her body. However, the women would be unspared from their torment, as a guest a woman in her 30's entered and turned around unbuckling her pants and then letting them drop she farted in Aerith's face grabbing her head and shoving it deep into her ass. The rank smell would likely make the Ancient gag unceremoniously. It smelled like cabbage and steak after a bit of time in ones stomach. "She gags wonderfully Matty, I'll rent her for a bit." The woman said as she lowers the girls blindfold and stares at her dead-like fish eyes. In another room, Yuffie would be hung from a small beam in a dark as night room. Her neck had a loose noose around it, and her slender body was stripped. If she struggled to free herself, she'd find no arm room to do so, for on both sides of her were sections of blades jutting out from some sort of Iron Maiden-like torture device which would start up, the only comfort she has being the chair she is forced to stand on. It keeps the noose from closing around her slender neck; she is also gagged because since they caught her, she hasn't stopped running her mouth. There is the sound of a sliding door opening. Heavy footsteps come close, it sounds like someone heavy approaching her. Then standing before her is a rather girthy woman, a chubby one at that. She grins darkly, "Mat, she is fine, such a skinny little thing, and that neck, ohhh I could just wrap my fingers round it and ring her like a dead chicken I could." The owner smirks, leaving the woman to enjoy her rent for the afternoon. "Just remember she will re-raise so you can choke her as much as you want." The re-raise spell having been cast on all three of the girls there is no worry of them dying on her. And in the last room, there is Tifa, strung up at the center of some boxing ring, she isn't butt naked like the rest. She is allowed to keep her skirt, shoes, and underwear on. However, her top has been removed and her big tits have been slightly enhanced with a special materia making them adjustable in size for better punching bag quality. Standing before her is a burly brawler of a woman, who tower over the bound-up brawler, giving her pale tits a swat and testing their jiggle. "Your right, she don't bruise easy, perfect for working on my boxing." The woman says, giving Tifa's tits several jabs, having left them at their default size for now.

Two Talon agents walked into a cell deep inside one of their hideouts with large grins plastered on their faces. They had captured the Overwatch agent known as Mercy not too long ago and now had locked her in a cell. They had been pumping her full of drugs and aphrodisiacs almost without pause, with the goal being to turn her into little more than a cum dumpster for Talon once they had gotten the info they needed out of her. "Let's see how she is doing," the taller man chuckled as he opened the door to Mercy's cell. She was chained to a wall, completely naked as there were needles stuck into her throughout her body, pumping her full of the drugs that would make her crave sex and pleasure. "How are we doing today, Mercy?" He asked with a chuckle as he licked her cheek, his hands moving to grope one of her perky breasts while the other stroked at her labia to see how wet she was, to see if the drug was working properly.

Angela was a doctor, which meant she knew drugs and she knew what these were or at least knew what they were doing. Some kept her numb and sluggish so she couldn't fight; others made her body overly responsive to stimulus - even the air in the cell being enough for them to work with, given how much was in her system. Head spinning slightly, the blonde woman did her best to ignore the fact that her body was needing contact, adding to the fog-like sensation filling her mind. Breathing deeply, she tried to keep it even, though that was hard to do at times. She was at least happy that the lighting in the room was dim, as bright lights while on these drugs would hurt a lot. At first, she didn't know the men were in the room; her mind unable to focus on what was going on. That didn't mean her body couldn't. When the man asked her how she was, no response came at first. That was until her body responded to his touch. A sharp gasp came from her when he touched her between her legs, and a blush instantly went onto her cheeks. Still, she could focus enough to respond. "It... It is doctor," she said, feeling herself starting to grow damp just from the small amount of touching he was doing. Normally Mercy was far more controlled, but these drugs had a bad side effect: if she didn't find a way to remove the tension, it made her mad with need - growing painful.

With things the way they were right now, a constant stream of supervillains both old and new causing trouble across the continent, and they were at a stage where several superheroes had been killed in big conflicts. C-listers mainly, but the damage to their numbers was problematic. And it led to a drive to recruit and train up younger heroes, as there was no shortage of teen heroes in this day and age. Steve Rogers, believed by many to be the 'first' superhero (save for those who did a little homework and learned about the original Human Torch) had been more than happy with the idea, and had agreed to work with one budding and excitable heroine from Jersey. "Down below. By the gas station. See?" He lowered his binoculars, one leg propped up on the rim of the roof. The red white and blue Avenger glanced Kamala's way, pointing to the tall trenchcoat clad figure heading along the darkened sidewalk. "A hat and trenchcoat. Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles logic, only a villain thinks they're gonna go unnoticed that way." He had a liking for Kamala. She was sweet, energetic, and had some real power on her side. For that reason, he felt it was very useful to get her on board and make a real hero out of her. "And if the stories of Electro committing robberies in this area are true... I think we might have found our man.

It was the sort of thing that brought out some rather mixed feelings in the young superhero. On the one hand, it was a major responsibility. Heroes were dying out there, and contrary to certain beliefs not all heroes came back from the dead. Some would find a way, sure, as it seemed impossible to keep some of the greats down. But others, minor talents by way of mutation, Inhumanity, or something else entirely, those that didn't let greed overtake them to turn them towards spandex-clad criminality... well, they didn't tend to come back. It was something that Kamala took seriously. On the other hand. OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD I COULD BE AN AVENGER THIS IS SO COOL AND-- It had been an exciting couple of weeks for Kamala Khan. She had at least shapeshifted this time, dressing herself down into something a lot more casual than her supersuit. Her face had been changed as well, darkening her hair, lightening her skin and doing enough of a nip and a tuck to make someone think that, at the very most, she could be her own distant cousin with the contrast turned up. "See, I don't get it. Couldn't he do, I dunno, a hoodie? Who wears a trenchcoat these days?" Kamala asked, making an impatient "gimme" gesture with one hand to take the binoculars. "Holy crap, that's a fedora. He's wearing a fedora," she said as she squinted down through the binoculars. "So, what's the game plan here, Cap?" she asked, a smile in her voice. She still kind of internally squeed every time she thought about the fact that she was slumming it with one of the -originals-, for... well, for all the fact that he definitely didn't look it. "Because I'm pretty sure I could land on him from here.

After weeks... or rather months of searching, the Batman had finally found the safehouse of a woman who was going around and leaving the most powerful men in Gotham broken and beaten. Most had their balls destroyed to the point that they might not ever have the chance to have children, and those who weren't that beaten simply got lucky. Maybe the police arrived and ended up saving them, maybe they didn't put up much of a fight. Either way, months of searching brought the Caped Crusader to her hideout so he could bring her down. A gentle flap of his black leather cape from the cool night air was the only indication that the massive man landed on the roof of the warehouse. His dark shadow slinking across the roof until it stopped at an open window. Below him, he could see a belt rolling what looked to be sex toys across the warehouse. While this was strange to the Batman, it wasn't against any laws. He stepped up into the open skylight window and dropped down. Spinning with his open cape, the grey and black armored man landed on a single knee and slowly stood up. He grasped a flashlight and clicked a button, shining light in the dark warehouse, slowly scanning the room around him, unaware of the danger he was really in.

Emily slid into the shadows of the warehouse, watching as Batman conducted his careful search. She knew every inch of this place; even in the dark she could place her feet silently. She was resolved, but not without a pang of regret. Even at this distance, she could feel his power. Like so many of her friends, she had woken at night with her thighs sodden and her nipples taut and tingling having dreamt of him. No wonder half the women of Gotham wanted to breed off this man. But that was not to be, would never be. Her plot had been long in the making and now it was coming to fruition. Just like she knew it would. Anyone with any sense, knowing how many men had lost their masculinity in this place, would have come with a squad of police to surround the building and ensure that Emily was overpowered. But he was too confident, too arrogant, too eager to show that he was better than other men. Well, he would be proved wrong. She would show him that he was just like other men. His own masculinity would bring about his downfall. She moved behind a pillar as Batman passed close by. So close, she was sure she could smell his testosterone. Which reminded her of why she was here. She closed her eyes to remember her lover, now incarcerated for 25 years to life. And all because of Batman. It wasn't the loss of a man between her thighs that upset her. Men were replaceable. Nor was she concerned about the length of the sentence. He deserved that and more. No, it was the way Batman had dealt with him. He hadn't been content just to capture him. He had to put on a show to attract publicity for himself by making a spectacle of her lover, humiliating him. He would pay for that. His humiliation would be worse, far worse. She moved down the warehouse, away from Batman.

Hayden pursed her lips as she finished applying another light coat of shimmering pink lipstick. The starlet pressed her lips together, working the lipstick in and making sure it would cover equally. When she relaxed, Hayden could get a good look at them, seeing the light pink shimmering in the overhead light of the bathroom. They glistened in quite an appealing manner, if Hayden did say so herself. Generally she wouldn't have been applying the lipstick herself, particularly when she was about to go on camera, but generally she wouldn't be in quite the situation she found herself in today. The blonde smiled and ran her hands along her sides, feeling a little fluttering in her stomach. Her outfit perfectly matched something she'd worn on an earlier shoot, which in itself was a prime indicator that something was decidedly different. Her current boyfriend had complained about not being able to see Hayden in action while wearing this, and had later teasingly insisted that he'd masturbated to the images the shoot had produced. Not that Hayden could protest. She knew she looked hot, more than hot. Her body held some generous curves, darting just far away from the stick figure while remaining fit and lean. Constant exercise kept her trim, her pierced belly virtually flat. Said naval had been exposed by the diving cleavage of the lingerie/swimwear Hayden wore. The sapphire jewel in her navel looked all the more appealing this way, and she knew that the little adornment drove her boyfriend, and many other men, quite crazy. Lush golden skin showed between the two valleys, showing a perfect even tan that spoke of sunny weather and the luxury to spend hours carefully baking a body without any covering. Not that quite all the areas showed: the suit tantalizing covered all her key points. White fabric connected just below her navel, cupping her loins and coming around back. Hayden had made certain to wax her hair to a narrow strip, wanting very little to show against the fabric. She wasn't overly concerned about... other bits showing. She smiled as she ran her hands over it, just thinking about the possibilities. The suit continued. It cupped a near-perfect ass: a tight bubble that could just about squeeze quarters to make change. Hayden's boyfriend had literally bounced change off it once when they'd been teasing. He also knew one of Hayden's dirty little secrets: she genuinely enjoyed light anal play. Stick a finger back there and it would make her feel so dirty and naughty. "Careful, you'll show," she said teasingly to her reflection. The white top covered her bountiful breasts fairly well, draped right over the twin dusky nipples and holding them flat. But too much arousal and she may perk through... or even leak below, though Hayden doubted it would quite get to that. Her boyfriend might be able to produce such results, but she didn't expect it here. The blonde starlet set her lipstick down, readjusting her golden curls to fall about her now perfect face. Mascara deepened her blue eyes. "I look hot enough to fuck," she declared, smirking and once more ruffling the light green silken robe that barely covered her body. The girl reached down for a pair of white heeled sandals, laces of which climbed halfway up her knee, giving them one last adjustment before daring to leave the bathroom. Yes, bathroom. That was another sign that this was not a normal shoot. The starlet smiled as she exited, entering what appeared to be a fairly modern house. Someone had decorated the place to look classy enough, though without any real adornments or personality. It looked very much like what it was, and the thought amused the starlet. Hayden knew she was there to shoot a pornography. It was a special gift for her too sweet, too sexy boyfriend. Hayden had all but pried the information out of him: what he wanted her to do, who with. The initial plan had been for perhaps a friend to do it. But Hayden had asked her boyfriend about possibilities, and eventually the conversation had drifted toward porn. He had suggested one of his favorite actors, though he'd immediately insisted she wouldn't be interested in that kind of shoot. The topic had technically been dropped there, but Hayden had looked up the actor and gaped at the photos. He was black! And quite well endowed. figuring this was the entire reason behind her boyfriend's shyness, Hayden had promptly arranged a private shoot with the man. They'd do a video; he'd seduce her properly, and there would be absolute minimal crew. Hence why Hayden had come with her own outfit and done her own makeup (though she swore she'd seen a closet of clothes that looked like it may fit an athletic blonde girl somewhere). Now the confident starlet strode back to where her partner in this little adventure had agreed to meet her. "How do I look?" she offered, extending her arms enough for the draping cover to rise. She gave a slight twirl as she moved forward, greeting him with a smile that had graced magazines.

There was nothing Terry Kruzlik liked more than fucking tight young white girls. He loved the challenge of forcing his way into an impossibly tight cunt, how it made him hard just thinking about it - about how white girls were in such awe when they managed to get their hands on a thick black cock. It was the contrast between the colour of their skin and the thick fat shaft of a black man and the tiny viciously tight and hot cunt of a young white slut. White men couldn't compare to blacks in the cock department; it was something that was as much fact as urban legend, and Terry lived up to expectations in every way, with a monstrous cock more than capable of stretching to breaking point every tiny youthful snatch he found himself in a position to defile. The thing was, though, that he had been without a hot little white slut for far too long now - redheads and blacks had been on the menu for far too long. That was something that needed to change. The screams and mewling, the whimpers and moans of a hot little blonde getting her cunt forced open and her cervix kissed by his massive black cock - that was something which Terry missed. Fortunately, that was going to be rectified soon. Terry's manager had arranged for him to do a shoot at one of their mansions, a perfectly decorated slice of Hollywood upper class glamour, used to film sinful and sordid scenes at a whim. He was told to wait outside next to the pool for Hayden, some rich actress type with more money than sense, who was actually paying to shoot some fucking with him. Sure, he was famous in his line of work, but he knew that a girl as hot as her could get fucked for free albeit with a few bruises to go with what happened to her in such a deal. Of course he had been told, basically, to fucking destroy her, by someone he figured was either her husband, boyfriend, or perhaps a brother who wanted to see his sister get wrecked by black cock? He wasn't really sure, nor did he care, the important thing was that no safe word had been identified, which meant anything went right up until he was unable to squeeze one more drop of cum out of his body and was forced to throw in the towel on the session they were going to be starting all too soon. He heard her exit the sliding door and step out onto the tiles surrounding the huge pool. The sun was beating down and shone off the water with a glare, almost obscuring the entrance into the grotto which was attached to it. Terry himself stood over by a couple of loungers and a table which held a couple of jugs and some cocktail glasses. He was on his second and paused only to pour her a drink, before turning to look her up and down. He was wearing a tight green T-shirt and a pair of loose fitting green swimming shorts. The looseness failed to conceal a damn thing about the erection he was sporting though, and it only stiffened and grew harder as he allowed his gaze to roam about Hayden. Raping her from head to toe with his eyes. He towered over her, dominating the space between them as his muscular and powerful frame almost blocked out the sun as he moved to offer her a drink. "Here, this will loosen you up a little before we get started." he told her with a grin. Power and confidence dripped from his frame and surrounded his words as he moved up towards her. There were hidden cameras everywhere, filming right now, he had free reign for them to go anywhere and do anything. "You look fucking hot, but you know that already don't you, you little bitch," he said with a smile, his teeth flashing a broad band of white as he continued to speak to her while drinking in every inch of her exposed flesh, only managing to draw his attention back to her eyes when he had fully eye-fucked her thighs and tits to his satisfaction. "I have to say, if I was your man there's no fucking way I'd let another guy fuck you! I'd be taking care of business every fucking day, doing your tight little holes so fucking hard you wouldn't have time to think about looking around for another cock. Maybe I'd let you fuck a few women, just for my amusement, you know? That's about it though." He smirked, killing what was left of his drink and sliding the glass onto the nearby table. He then reached out, sliding one hand around her waist while the other, having passed her a drink or set it down if she had refused, began to slide her wrap off her shoulders. "We're going to start here," he said, gesturing towards her breasts. "You're going to take out my cock and then you're going to fuck it with your hand and your mouth. Spit on it, stroke it, lick it, kiss it, do whatever you fucking can, because this massive bastard is going to be spearing into your tiny body and you need to get it lubed up as much as you can. My pre-cum isn't going to be enough to stretch your tiny little fuck holes, now is it Hayden... and we don't want you bleeding like some virgin all over me when I fuck you, now do we?" He chuckled a little. "Fuck, I'm so fucking hard already." He hissed, the outline of his massive erection visible through his shorts as he stood in front of her, the head already weeping enough pre-cum to stain the outline of his bulbous head into his shorts. "It's been too long since I practically raped a hot little bitch like you," he growls, as he feels her soft hands on his massive fuckstick. He groans deeply as her tongue touches the purple bulbous head of his massive tool. A little bit of sweet clear precum came out of the slit and landed on her tongue. "You better hurry up, before I decide to bend you over this table and force you open hard. That's what your man wants, isn't it girl? You know that right?" he asks, taking hold of one of her free hands by the wrist and dragging her delicate fingers down to his cock, pushing her hand against the thick rod which is pressing out against his shorts. "Now, bitch," he growls, "get to work! You can see how fucking hard I am!" He reassures her, as she takes hold of his cock with both hands and starts stroking it slowly. "This is what you came here for, isn't it? So show me, show me how hard and slick you can get this cock before I open you up with it." He smirks, taking a step closer to her. "Don't worry about the camera's, they're hidden all around here and they will catch what is needed. My people will edit the rest in later with some pick up shots, make it look like you were enjoying every second of being fucked for your boyfriend's pleasure," he says, as she continues to stroke his cock slowly. His agent had struck fucking gold with this assignment. 'No holds barred, do whatever you want with the little bitch' assignments were always the best, and this hot little blonde was top of the line, he imagined that she was wet already, eager for a black cock like no other she had likely ever had.

Hahaha, burn, burn! Jinx laughed maniacally as she crouched over a rat in the alleyway, magnifying glass in hand, positioned over the creature in an attempt to use the power of the sun to create one of her favorite things, fire. It wasn't a well-thought out plan and it wasn't going to work no matter how long she waited, but even knowing that she still put on a pout as no signs of smoke rose into the air. Boooooo she whined, narrowing her eyes in concentration as she willed it to happen, spontaneous combustion or some freak accident at the top of her list of hopes. Alas, nothing. It didn't matter, it wasn't the main point of her day, only a tiny distraction as she waited for her latest game of cat and mouse to begin, the rat her practice run for her role of cat in a sense. BOOM! A loud explosion shook the city, Jinx looking up from her hidden position in the dark alley and grinning as wide as she could. That explosion was precisely Vis favorite donut shop, closed of course because as psychotic as Jinx could be at times she had yet to cross that particular line. She knew well enough that her reign of good times could only continue as long as she didn't do a select few things. Besides, the rift had soured her towards a great deal of things, and revealed the lack of joy that came with killing And the pain of death. Jinx shivered, her grin turning to a snarl as she thought about it, thought about the fucked up little game they were being used in, like fucking puppets. The only thing was losing meant more dying, Jinx shook her head rapidly, as if emptying her head of such useless thoughts, focusing back to the matter at hand. Heh, time to go. She chuckled, eyes shining brightly as she watched the smoke rise into the night's sky. Burn Burn Hahahah She muttered to herself as she dashed out of the alley and grabbed a can of spray paint, turning to the wall and doing a quick rendition of Vi Head and put, Dear Fat Hands, you have been gaining some weight, I took it upon myself to eliminate your biggest temptation. Jinx and then, in an even more grand a fashion, while everyone around her took off in horror after realizing who she was, she set up a little stationary cannon. She aimed it into the air, loaded it with a special little rocket, and shot it into the air directly above herself, just to give away her position. Jinx didn't run though, for two reasons. One, running before Vi arrived was boring, boooooring. Two, she had to see her work in action! Boom! Another loud sound as the rocket exploded, lighting up the night's sky with color and a peculiar image, the firework-like blast imprinting Jinx's face in the sky, a clear provocation, It was me!. Jinx clapped her hands together and swooned, it was brilliant, and it wouldn't be long before Vi arrived, she always came as quick as she could when Jinx was involved. Not that they had similar motives Jinx had been rather obsessed with Vi since she was 12, enamored with the criminal side of Vi that had shined with such charisma Even now her brand of crime was pointed towards Vi, though it was more out of disappointment that Miss Fat Hands had sold out. That wasn't the point though, the point was, Vi didn't even remember who the hell she was, or seem to. The annoying kid from back then, the one she had turned down, it was Jinx! She had grown taller, gained a few tattoos, and her skill with everything weapon had grown substantially And maybe she had given in to her manic side a bit more, but she was still irritated about not being recognized. As she waited Jinx contemplated a few things, spinning her ingenious little pistol in her hand, the electric-based weapon able to slow anyone it hit, if it hit. The damn thing was kind of obvious, a pink little line showing up as she charged it, fucking ion bullshit, she needed to fix that. Oh well, it was still a fun toy! Jinx started to pout though, where was Vi? Hurry hurry. Im booooored Vi. She whined, tilting her head back and sighing with an exaggerated huff following suit.

You should have seen this Teemo. I mean, why does anyone even bother summoning THE most useless Yordle? Mhmm Jayce hummed, half listening, as he adjusted the laser sight on Caitlyn's scope. Seriously, he just ran around in circles, throwing mushrooms. Uh huh. Are you even listening?!?! Vi huffed, already annoyed that they had lost a match on the Fields of Justice due to the stupidity of a Teemo who couldn't fucking watch his stay alive to that uppity bitch Fiora. Hated losing to them even more when she had wrecked so many of their faces...only to have her and the rest of the team's efforts be shot to hell by a stupid scout with a fucking blow gun. Now the Demacians can come over and mine whatever essences they wanted from Piltover's section of the Ironspike Mountains and Bandle City's section of the Sablestone Mountains. Don't you even care?! Despite all her bitching about the decision, she guessed that the Fields of Justice were a better way to resolve these matters than all out war. (War was what had made her into an orphan after all.) But it was still infuriating to lose and then have to sit around while uptight Demacians came over here to mine her essences and hang out in her city and cause issues that she would have to respond to as an officer of the law for the next month. Ugh, and Jayce didn't even care! So now she was EVEN MORE annoyed that she couldn't even vent down at the station because Caitlyn was somewhere doing something stupid (probably ticketing some poor bastard for jaywalking) and Jayce was here being a sheriff suck-up by modding one of Cupcake's rifles. What on Valoran are you even doing over there, pretty boy? Vi looked up from her own workbench where she had been cleaning her gauntlets to see what Jayce was doing and sure enough, the inventor/deputy was about to do something incredibly stupid. Hey, you're going to blow the transformer if you turn that energy output up any higher. Look, Vi. I know you're a top-notch mechanic, but when it comes to arcane stuff... A sudden flash of lightning and angry crackle of electricity followed by the acrid smell of smoke let Jayce know that he had indeed blown the small transformer that was converting the arcane energy into hextech energy. And that's why I don't mess around with that arcane garbage. Good ol' hextech engineering is enough for me. Vi grinned smugly as she looked at a soot-covered Jayce. Silly snooty Jayce thinking he knew better than her! You know many hextech inventions have arcane power sources, Jayce argued and began to argue as he wiped his face on the sleeve of his uniform. The radio crackled to life with the tinny voice of the dispatcher and both of them fell silent to listen to the pager go off with its whistles and beeps before the voice continued. When I find out who the hell blew up the Fried and Frosted... Vi narrowed her eyes and pulled on her gauntlets. Even though the gloves were huge, she had worn them enough to have enough dexterity to operate her radio. A brief pause and then Caitlyn's staticy voice came in again. And with that, Vi clipped her radio to her belt and turned it down because Caitlyn would give her an earful about not 'going by the books'. Then she rushed out to the garage for her motorcycle, slid her goggles over her eyes, and kicked the beast of a machine to life so that she could speed off to the fire. Vi had long outrun Jayce (her bike was a hell of a lot better for weaving in and out of traffic and taking shortcuts down alleyways than his squad car) and so arrived at the scene first. Her face fell as she saw the black plumes of smoke rise up from the building. Vi! The fire chief waved her down and jogged up to her. Hey, Vi. No one was in the building when it blew. But here, come look at this. And then he lead her to one of the walls that was still left standing, one that had a cartoony looking picture of her drawn out, with a brief message. FAT HANDS?!?! Vi roared as she charged up and swung, knocking a hole clear through the offending part of the wall. When I get my hands on that brat, I'll show her fat hands! BOOM! The sound of a rocket going off kept Vi from destroying any more private property and making an already bad situation worse. See ya, Chief. Vi darted away, off towards where she had seen the rocket shoot up from: not even a block away and down a small alley where she knew Jinx would be waiting for her, but this time she wasn't going to let the criminal escape. Blowing up her favorite doughnut shop had been the last straw!

Don Corneo licked his thick lips as he eyed the women before him. They were criminals, terrorists, really, known for openly defying SHINRA and causing no end of problems. Each one was considered incredibly dangerous, potentially deadly, and the cost of their heads almost dwarfed even what the slimy don could pull in at his new establishment. Any loyal member of SHINRA, hell, most sane people in general, would turn them over instantly. However, the "good" Don had already been burned once by that organization, thanks in no small part to two of these very beauties. He stared at them both now, his dark eyes gleaming with the memories. His pet should've finished them off, ended it all there. But instead, somehow the busty fighter and the damn flower-girl had managed to survive and wreck everything. And then the whole group had gone and made things even worse for the Don during his second attempt. "Didn't see this coming, didja?" he said, chortling as he rocked his hips suggestively. The bright pink silk had already started to bulge; it had from the moment he'd heard that Tifa, Aerith, and Yuffie had all been caught on the New Honeybee premises. Just the thought had been enough. Then, oh, then, then he'd been able to strip them of their weapons and materia. From there, his newly hired muscle could easily handle three women, even when one was some kinda ninja and another a brilliant fighter. "I suppose they laid it all out for you?" he asked, hopping back on his bed. Per his request, his bed had been formed in the shape of a heart. Leopard covered sheets adorned it, all made with the finest fabrics, much like the suit that strained against Corneo's noticeable girth. "I wanna reiterate, just in case," he hopped up, walking up to Tifa. He bent down, looking up at the impressive, busty woman, "Ya got caught," his eyes traveled, taking in the large bust, not to mention the incredible muscles the girl possessed. A good punch would probably cave in his face, and she had threatened more than once to crush certain parts of him. It had been all too easy to picture those materia studded gloves squishing his best bits. In honor of that, he'd made certain to give her gloves now. Oh, they were fingerless, very nearly mesh entirely, but he had adorned them with one materia: a nice sensation enhancement one. His eyes flicked from that to the impressive chest. He'd ordered the girl to be squeezed into a corset of black and yellow (gotta fit the bee theme, after all). The express instructions had been to cram everything into place, get it tight enough that moving would be difficult. Oh, it would still technically cover anything, but a strong breath had a good chance of popping out some big ole titty, let alone anything else. Some black frilled lace bloomer style panties would cover the bottom. Super feminine for the muscular woman. "And we know all about your little friends." Corneo continued, walking to the next. Aerith was tall, and she had a bit more of a willowy build. Really, the best thing about here were those eyes and that pristine face, so Corneo had made express mention to make it all pop even more and all. A nightie that was just tight enough to show the body covered her, and he knew that the crotchless panties underneath would make bending over even more excited, what with how short it was already. He was almost tempted to put a hand on the girl's belly, where he'd instructed the necessary pink materia to be laid. Had to make sure the girls had sexual stamina, after all. He had three himself, of course. "So you know that if you try anything, we'll start hurting,'" he patted Aerith's cheek a few times, before giving her a pinch and walking to the last. "Plus, now that we got ya, more arguing and fighting means that we can put you through your paces," he bent down to look at Yuffie. Corneo had a personal grudge against this one after Wutai. She was younger than the other; he knew that much, and didn't quite have the womanly body. The skin-tight boyshorts he'd ordered her into would squeeze the body even tighter. A top? With her? Just a pair of shuriken decals that would just cover nipples would be enough. Then a few bands around the arm and wrists, all decoration of course. Oh, and the glistening pink one around her belly. He looked to that and licked. "Of course, before you get started, we gotta make sure you're good, give you boss's personal approval," he rocked his hips toward Yuffie, before fluttering his hands around her hips. "So!" he yelled, jumping back, throwing his arms up and hopping onto the bed, "who wants to go first, hmm?" Smiling, he leaned forward, looking toadish as he eyed the girls with hungry eyes.

Tifa and Aerith hadn't thought they'd seen the last of Don Corneo. Oh, the brawler had hoped that she might not see the lecherous eyes gleam in his face ever again after the first time, and again after the second, but as soon as they'd realized they were going to be sneaking into the place again, she knew it was a possibility that she might end up coming face to face with him once more. She just hadn't expected to be doing so like this. They were alone in the room, and any one of them could take the disgusting man in front of them with ease, but even as they directed varying degrees of fury at the man with their eyes while he swaggered back and forth on the bed not even Tifa - whose gaze blazed hottest of all - made a move to do it. They could kill him, and it would be satisfying. They could even probably kill their way out of here if it came to it, but Cloud and the others were still out there, and unless they killed every last person in the building (a far more difficult proposition even if they'd had their proper gear and materia, a nearly impossible one now that they'd been forced into these ridiculous outfits) there was no way they could guarantee that Corneo wouldn't manage to make good on his threat to turn them all in by proxy. At the very least they were trapped here until the others came for them, and that was assuming that the others managed to do that at all. It could be weeks or even months before they were found since none of them had told anyone where they were going, and that meant that for the moment, they had to play along as much as possible. That was the intellectual analysis of it anyways, but even knowing that, Tifa couldn't bring herself to step forwards. She knew she would lose her virginity eventually, probably tonight barring bizarre mischance of happening, but she still couldn't bring herself to take the plunge. The fighter's spirit still burned inside her despite the futility of rage in her position, and it held her back, telling her not to give them not a single inch more! Aerith on the other hand was held back out of fear of Don Corneo. Both Aerith and Tifa had lived in the slums for a time, but Tifa had lived in one of the 'better' parts while Aerith had lived far worse off. Tifa had heard of the Honey Bee Inn and the occasional rumor about the sorts of girls that ended up there, but Aerith had heard of Don Corneo, heard stories of what the place did to women. Unlike the drunks that talked in that bar, Aerith had known some of the women who'd gone in, and when she'd seen them again (if that moment ever came to pass, some she'd simply never seen) they'd been unrecognizable. Not just make-up or outfits but entire personalities seemed to change, some more than others, but all in the same direction of loving their work and somehow the Don who'd brought them in. Aerith had never been able to understand it, and it frightened her a little... To her, Don Corneo had been something of a boogeyman she'd built up in her head, an entity more supernatural than humanoid with strange abilities that turned rational sensible women into the willing whores that worked in his debauched palace. She'd stayed as far away as she could for as long as she could, and when she had finally gone close, it had only been with Cloud at her side, strong and ready to protect her, and while Tifa was strong, she could see the helpless anger in her friend's eyes, and knew that strength was hampered by this place, by this man that stood before them. In any other situation, Aerith might have stepped up first, but this was Don Corneo, and a seed of that childhood-spawned fear still ingered in the Ancient Girl's mind... Instead, the last of them was the first to step up... Yuffie had never had much connection to Don Corneo, had never even heard much about him beyond 'terrible disgusting man' as Tifa had once described him around a campfire late one night. Neither of the other two liked to talk about their experience with him very much, and so the young ninja was left with the realities of the situation before her. She was no virgin, but she'd never had a steady boyfriend like Aerith, and while she'd enjoyed a handful of one-night stands for various reasons (mostly involving theft), she'd never enjoyed the sex beyond the purely physical, and her fingers had always been better. She saw no reason to believe that this would be any different, and so she stepped forwards, inured to the fears of the others. Someone did have to go first, and while she didn't expect she'd put the lecherous pervert off, Yuffie thought she knew all she needed to about sex already. She'd never had an orgasm from a man before and assumed she wasn't about to start now... A perilous -if not unjustified- error of reasoning fueled by arrogance. She wanted to frustrate him, wanted to see him fail to break her and then give up, and if she hadn't made enough mistakes already, she taunted him as she stepped up and put one hand on her hips, doing her best let her other arm hang nonchalantly rather than look as though she was ashamed or intimidated. "If you think you can, then try to take me." She never thought for even a second that she might be unable to withstand his attentions...

It doesn't matter what will happen to us! We go with the emperor's grace and his hands guide our retribution!" The roar of Heavy-Bolter fire drowned out even the constant staccato of orkish guns that filled the smoke-thick air. Venitus burned around them, its districts alight with flames and rocked with screaming as the greenskins ran near-unchecked through the streets. Only the highest points remained untouched, the Spaceport, the Administratorum, and the Governor's palace at whose gates the trio stood. A handful of imperial citizens remained with them, a mere dozen compared to the thousands they had tried and failed to protect. The rest of the sisterhood was either dead or withdrawn from the city to their fortress-monastery to make a stand of their own there. A shuttle remained that would take these civilians to safety, but there were simply too many orks for the Sororitas to go with them... The Heavy Bolter fell silent and Sister Rosanne glanced up and back. A woman stepped forwards, a helpless fear on her face only to be shouted down as Captain Tiarra took advantage of the quiet to punctuate her orders. "GO!" Another group of orks rounded the corner and caught sight of them, immediately charging up the hill with a warcry, firing wildly as they went. The civilians went as ordered, scurrying towards the starport pad as the Heavy Bolter Roared again, tearing into the greenskins with ease while Sister Sarael made sure to finish off any that didn't go down soon. If they had no worries about ammunition, they could technically hold out forever in this sort of choke point, but ammunition was a very real worry. The Heavy bolter would run dry soon, and after that they would be down to their own boltguns, then power swords and chain weapons as they fought what they expected to be their last bloody stand at the gates of the mansion. It never occurred to them for even a moment that this would not be where they met their end...

As the Battle-Sisters tore into the ranks of the Orks with their heavy bolter and boltguns, it seemed for every one they killed, three more greenskins took their place, a truly hopeless task for the three. Even in the choke point with their weapons, the sheer weight of numbers of the Orks began to overwhelm the Sisters. Green bodies filled every breach and hole and soon several greenskins were pouring past the sisters in an attempt to storm the Spaceport. Green bodies filled every breach and hole and soon several greenskins were pouring past the sisters in an attempt to storm the Spaceport. As the Orks swarmed around them, one of them in the massive horde cried out. "Uumie Wimmen! Lets rape dim!" A fearsome cheer seemed to roar out from the Orks as they overwhelmed the sisters, tackling them and forcing them to ground with their numbers alone. While many of the Orks stayed with the sisters, others poured into the Starport and Manor and slaughtered the men and began to rape the women. The cries and screams that echoed around them let the sisters know they had failed in their last task. Still, they would be too busy themselves to notice themselves as the Orks bound the wrists and ankles of Sarael and Tiarrae together, immobilizing them. It seemed like the Greenskins had special plans for the Sisters. Once Sarael and Tiarrae were taken care of, Orks surrounded Rosanne their eyes full of lust as they licked their lips in anticipation. They had disarmed her for the most part, the only weapon upon her was her chainsword. Emerging from the mass of green was an Ork that stood a head and a half taller than most and seemed much more powerful and well built than the others. He was Chief Mugstompper, and he was the leader of this Horde. He eyed Rosanne and chuckled before looking at Sarael and Tiarrae. "Ya listen ter meeb an obey, ya an yer sistaz git ter liv. Fail an weeb kills ya, noez?" he spoke in the strange way Orks spoke as he and his warriors surrounded the Sisters. It seemed like he was giving Rosanne a chance for her and her sisters to live, but the question now was, would she take it?

Situated just west from Marcus Garvey Park in midtown Harlem is one of Harlem's hidden but renown marvels, a hole-in-the-wall coffee joint that wouldn't elicit so much as a pause from the average out-of-towner yet it attracted distinguished visitors from all parts of the world...and some beyond. It was the kind of place you wouldn't know about unless you were looking for it, aptly named after its owner, outside the building in classic paint lettering read "Luke's Coffee Joint". To describe the place, it was modest but decently arranged with no bells or whistles, mostly brick and some fine ebony wood, some decent indoor furniture, the booths were pub style, it being Harlem, it was also quite Harlem inspired, with pictures and artifacts of historic black figures, movie posters, and music that played had a dated old-timey sort of feel. In the heart of the shoppe had been Power Man - Luke who'd been using the down time to wipe down his surroundings prior to opening hours. He may have been the owner but bartending was really his preference, as far as help, he preferred to keep a tight crew. On days like this, he'd handle most of the work himself or get one of the neighborhood youth to handle dish work or whatever else needed tended to. He considered himself a "hands-on" kind of boss, and he had reputation for being quite good at that. There were separate and distinct menus for those seeking unconventional service.

Hot Black Stuff: Luke's Coffee "date" with Harley. Harley didn't usually come all the way out to Harem. She was based out of Coney Island and there was a river and a lot of city to cross in order to get there, and for the most part you just didn't. Brooklyn had it's way of doing things and so did Harlem and people like Harley, who either looked for trouble or found it even when they weren't looking, were better off staying in their own boroughs. But not tonight. Tonight Harley had some fun chasing down a few people who'd crossed some friends with hers. People who'd fled to East Harlem thinking they'd be safe only to find themselves apologizing to Harley's shoes after a short conversation with one of her favorite baseball bats. But that was over now and Harley needed to relax. She'd heard about the place before. There were rumors in the circles she ran in but she'd dismissed them as wishful thinking. But then she heard firsthand, she'd never tell from who, that the 'Secret Menu' at Luke's Coffee Joint in Harlem was a real thing. And now she was in Harlem with no real need to rush home, so she hunted the place down, put her bat in the umbrella stand by the door and paused at the door to take a deep breath. "Mmm, smells good in here." she said. The clownish girl then bounced her way up to the counter with a wide grin, looking over the man behind the counter and hoping he was on the menu. "So who does a girl have to blow around here to get a taste of the hot black stuff?" she asked him. Harley had heard of subtlety, but that required effort. She was here to unwind.

The swirling cutie mark hovered almost directly over Twilight's castle.The princess of friendshipfrowned as she looked at it, studying it curiously. Nearby she could hear her assistant and dragon-boy spike shifting and climbing up to look at it himself. Spike had just hit full maturity, which sometimes made him a little difficult to handle, though Twilight still loved him anyway. Dealing with his crush on Rarity, however... "That's definitely the castle, right?" she asked. "It seems like it's indicating right here. I would almost expect to see it glowing right above us," she fluttered her fingers before bringing them down to stroke her chin. Spike was already asking if she needed to contact them or anything like that, but Twilight shook her head. "We should definitely find it out though," she focused, magical energy shining at her forehead. They sometimes called her people "unicorns," which she thought amusing. Well, technically speaking, Twilight was an "alicorn" now: she could produce the feathered wings on her back and actually fly. That had come with the whole princess of friendship business, as had this castle and these assignments. Twilight approached slowly, purple magic swirling about her horn. She was, of course, wearing her usual around the castle wear: a purple tartan skirt, kneesocks that matched her cutie-mark, a white blouse with a deep purple vest over it, and a string tie about her throat. Technically her mark would show just above her haunch, near her bottom, but she kept all but the bottom tip of that hidden with the skirt. Said skirt shifted as Twilight approached. The light seemed to shimmer, and Twilight was already waving her hands, readying a revealing spell.

To the blind eye, what Twilight Sparkle was seeing just outside of her castle walls had indeed been Flash Sentry. The young guard looked every bit the same as he always did, with his current garments consisting of a rather casual wear which included a pair of jeans, white shirt and black jacket, as opposed to the royal armor which hed often wear when seen on duty. His blue hair was fairly messy, but in that stylishly messy way that girls often liked on a guy. Similarly, the Pegasus wings that he often had out when working were gone for the time being, thus giving an unobstructed view of the young male who stood outside of Twilights castle for an unknown, yet seemingly nonthreatening purpose. The truth, however, was that Flash had been there under a unique arrangement organized with the assistance of a certain Chaos God. A Chaos God which watched on through a small portal window, unseen anywhere near the not-what-he-seemed guards location, while relaxing in a floating position that replicated somebody laying back on a couch. Hmm. Personally, I do not know what she sees in him. Discord mused while tossing back a handful of popcorn that was suddenly levitating at his side; chewing upon the mouthful and swallowing it down while adding, Buuuut, I suppose it doesnt really matter for somebody with your talents, does it? An amused chuckle slipped from the chimera dragons wide mouth, as he informed the changeling, Now, look sharp, Flash. It seems like our royal-ness is on her way over to see if anythings wrong. With that, the changeling awaiting Twilights appearance would no longer be able to hear Discords voice, but the chaotic being would still be watching the entirety of the unfolding events. Now this is a lesson that should prove very entertaining. He considered to himself, as the straw of a large soda came up to his lips on its own, which he promptly began to slurp loudly at while his eyes remained glued onto the scene. For his part, Thorax was a touch reluctant at deceiving Twilight, but Discords offer of a chance at feeding upon the love of such a powerful source as the Princess of Friendship was too tempting for the rehabilitating changeling to pass up. Of course, the slight magical boost to his appetite by Discord didnt hurt matters. At the sound of Twilights footsteps approaching from behind, the male awaited until she was close enough to pull off the act, as he suddenly turned to face the book smart cutie and accidentally stepped right into the Princess enough to knock her off her feet. Oh, Princess! Im sorry! I didnt see you there. He quickly apologized, then offering up a helpful hand while flashing a familiar smile as he added, Were making a pretty bad habit of this, arent we? The coaching by Discord would prove useful, as Thorax rather perfectly mirrored the way the pair had met literally bumped into each other in the past while offering to help her up.

Ah, Verdanturf Town. Though it wasn't as exciting a place as Slateport or Petalburg, just about everyone in Hoenn could agree that it was one of the more peaceful places to live in. There was so much grass covering the ground there that it seemed that there was no such thing as dirt, mud or rock, except for the mountains to the north which Verdanturf was nestled against. In the spring the area was heavily populated with flowers and shrubbery of all kinds, and not to mention berry plants which many wild Pokemon loved to no end. Trees were all around, surrounding the town at every side except for the east and north. But the most important feature of Verdanturf town was the superior airflow and wind pattern which provided the town with the purest air known to man. In fact, this feature was so well-known that whenever one remarks about heading out to get some fresh air, they are always reminded of Verdanturf Town. Alright, that last bit might be pushing it. Anyway, the town, as usual, was quiet on a typical Saturday afternoon. The shops were open, the Pokecenter received visitors and patients alike, and all around citizens were enjoying the bright and cheery day. Children were out and about in the town with their friends or parents while other people like tourists and the elderly took to the grand pastures and fields over yonder. It was very peaceful out there as well, and there were plenty of Pokemon to observe or catch if one desired. In one particular grove, far from the eyes and ears of the common populace, there resided a group of Pokemon belonging to a particular trainer. Two large heavyweights, a Nidoking and a Machoke, were grunting and huffing as they grappled with each other in a form of friendly competition. Being that they were known as powerhouses, it was a good idea to keep training and practicing for whatever battle might approach them. Standing off to the side in his own little world was a Gallade who was either referring the two sparring Pokemon or simply keeping an eye on them to make sure that no trees fell under their weight. He didn't seem too happy to be babysitting these two, but without a trainer present he did what he could to keep the group together. The final member of this four-man-band was a Houndoom, and he was all by his lonesome sprawled out on a sunny rock. The dark/fire type didn't look to happy for some reason, and he kept glancing towards some openings in the grove as if anticipating someone's arrival.

For many, Vendanturf Town was a place of peace and happiness to escape the harsh world beyond its beautiful flowered borders, and a place that Pokemon and people alike could always bring back their best memories with just one breath of its pure air. However, for Mignonette, that was especially true. Her happiest memories were far from peaceful, but they certainly were eventful; there was no doubt that had her first trainer Pokemon been with her at the moment once she stepped into the town's boundaries, he would immediately recall it as well. After all, who could forget the first time they had sex and enjoyed it beyond anything else? Forget human men, no one else could or even dared to understand the utter loyalty and prowess that male Pokemon could offer instead. To everyone else, Mignonette was just another ordinary trainer. Perhaps not just a regular trainer, considering that just a glance up her curvy athletic form always drew second (and often hungry) gazes after her, but with only the sight of her ample rear as the last sight of the female trainer, that would be all they could know. No one else would be the wiser about her more intimate attitudes towards her Pokemon... It was well understood in the world of Pokemon that breeders were exceptionally close with Pokemon, sometimes even more than trainers could ever be. It was necessary, considering that they would always be around said creatures, but for Mignonette, it was something she had grown to utterly trust and devote herself to once she had decided to be a trainer instead. That mindset only proved even more correct once she had given herself to her Houndoom, and thus sealed the deal once and for all. So the buxom trainer was in a high mood a few hours later once she left civilization behind her, having finished her accustomed shopping and restocking; Mignonette was more than eager to reunite with her beloved boys as she walked the familiar path to the nearby groves of trees removed from the actual town itself. Already, before she even see her team of Pokemon, she could hear them; the low grunts and growls of what could only be Hercules and Caesar, her Machoke and Nidoking respectively. So when the female trainer finally came into view, she was wearing a knowing smirk on her face, dark grey eyes scanning the clearing and making a quick head count of her team of four; Mignonette was hardly looking to expand it any time soon, not with satisfaction and the hard work these four did that would be worth forty other Pokemon. All in all, each of them were behaving as usual, but it couldn't be helped that she might have a slight bias towards one of them that she called out to,"Asmodeus, dear." Her husky melodic voice carried across the sparring as she gave a gentle wave towards the two muscular Pokemon to simply continue. The trainer's other hand was busy unwrapping the light cashmere scarf from around her neck and freeing her torso partly from the tight flower-decorated leotard and stockings with a smooth unzip down the front of her torso past her navel. It was only in the privacy of her Pokemon and the wilderness that Mignonette would even dare such a risqu action, exposing herself to them in invitation like this, and she was in particularly good mood as she walked leisurely towards the sunbathing Houndoom. The afternoon sun filtering through the treetops caught the creamy white tone of her skin and only emphasized the tantalizing curves of her bare large breasts the closer she came to Asmodeus. "Are you playing nice with the others, hm?" she gently cooed at the devilish Pokemon, settling herself down neatly next to him with a loving hand caressing down his sleek fur and then another stroke down his dark orange underbelly. Of course she didn't skip over also running her fingers lightly over his obvious sheath and the large tight black balls, a soft giggle escaping past her smirking lips. "I missed you too, my dear Asmodeus," Mignonette then leaned down to murmur against the Houndoom's neck, one hand still absently stroking his side as her head turned to motion to the other Pokemon on the team to also come over to her. They might as well sit through the show the sparring duo was putting on for them, and she would rather enjoy it with the company of her Pokemon up close against her. Lancelot was swiftly becoming her closest confidant; the most reasonable of the four when Asmodeus was being moody, Caesar was simply just being a lovable brute as always, and Hercules was too single-minded in showing off his strength. Giving the Gallade the same welcoming warm smile, Mignonette waited before he was in reach before sneaking in a quick kiss against the Pokemon's green helmet and wrapping a lean arm around his waist. "They haven't been at it for too long, yes? I'm sure you've been doing a wonderful job keeping them from hurting each other, Lancelot," she purred lightly in approval, drawing the Pokemon backwards into her lap; conveniently, his red triangular protruding from his back neatly fitted into the trainer's cleavage, letting her breasts press lightly against his back.

Captain's Coming What happens when a good trainer and a bad ex-grunt fall in lust? Mizushima Kaiyo wasn't quite used to being called by her name again yet, and that fact bothered her. She was leaning over the edge of a pier at Lilycove Harbor, feeling the sea breeze whip through her hair. Closing her eyes and smelling the salt, she could almost bring herself back to being in Izumi's office, ordered off on new and exciting missions for the good of Aqua's Glorious Mission. She could hear the voices of her crew, the sobbing of insolent Magmas, the notes of distant work shanties ghosting over the ocean. The sweet laugh of a tanned shipmate, the adrenaline rush of battling at her side, the touch of gentle calloused hands after all the cabin lights had gone out... No, Kaiyo, keep yourself together, girl. None of that. Really, she couldn't regret "jumping ship" when she did, though. It was only three weeks later the whole thing went crumbling to dust at the hands of a ten year old riding the green dragon. Ridiculous, really. She knew a few of her former cell were talking about bringing Aogiri's vision back to life, but she knew that would be a sad failure. Still, hanging out in a coastal town without any true drive or purpose was starting to get to her. She needed adventure, excitement, full sails. She was startled from her reminiscing by the tap-tap-tap of footsteps coming up at her on the pier. She quickly regained her poker face, wrinkling her nose slightly and squaring her shoulders. There was every possibility she was going to turn to see some asshole in red, and like hell was she going to let them see that they caught her daydreaming. She cleared her throat to lower her voice and spun on her heel. "Oi oi, who do you think you are, sneaking up on--"she started, but her voice was cut off in her throat when she saw the girl in front of her.

For the past six months now, Kacey had been in the Hoenn region ever since she became a fully-fledged Pokemon trainer. It was something she had always wanted to do ever since she had been allowed to help care for her parents pokemon back on their ranch. She had even been counting down the days until she was able to set out on her adventure. It had always been a dream of hers, and she still often found it hard to believe she was now living her dream. Since she had started her adventure, she had managed to build up a team of Pokemon that she was extremely proud of. The starter pokemon she received at the beginning of her adventure was a Treecko which had now evolved into Grovyle. The first pokemon she had captured was a Taillow which had recently evolved into Swellow. Next, she was able to capture a Poochyena that had only recently evolved into Mightyena a few short days ago. Also on her team was an Electrike and a Heracross she had captured a few weeks ago. Finally, completing her current team was Staryu. There was a smile on Kaceys face as she had finally made it to Lilycove City. Having recently turned 17, she was glad to have made it to Lilycove at last. It would mean she could rest up with her team before moving on again. Kaceys long red hair was tied up in a high ponytail and blew gently in the wind as she made her way to the Lilycove Harbor. She was dressed in a pink and white top that showed off a tiny bit of her C-cup cleavage and also some of her toned and tanned midriff. She also had on a pair of white short shorts that showed off her long, tanned legs and she had on a pair of white and pink sneakers. Kacey made her way up to the edge of the pier and stopped just as the other girl turned around to face her.Uhh.sorry! I wasnt sneaking up on you! I was just coming here to relax for a bit! I only want to see the ocean from here!She held her hands up in front of her in something of a defensive manner.Ive only just got into Lilycove anyway!She walked around Kaiyo and stood beside her at the edge of the pier.

Dream Eater ~ Johto Adventures Blake Black Klayton & Samantha Cross Crackle, pop, pop. Bubblebubblebubble. A small flame flickered and danced beneath a squat silver pot, within which a broth bubbled, and rolled, making the occasional vegetable peek up from below. The scent wafted up into the air and permeated the area, and would likely be one of the first signs of people being present if one didn't notice the smoke from the flame. Rustling from the nearby tall grasses to either side of the road hinted that the scent had drawn the attention of some nearby Pokmon, the movements of the critters distinct from the rustle of grasses and trees due to the light breeze. A breeze which also helped the cooking meal's odour travel. An odour which, while not absolutely foul, did hint the cook could use a few... dozen lessons, and that anyone who might come to join them consider wisely the value of their tastebuds. Just beyond the tall grasses lay numerous trees, though a fair few here and there rose up from the grass to partially shadow the road from the sinking sun. It wasn't quite yet night, but it was certainly only a few hours away, and the cool air had already settled in. The road itself was route 38, heading west out of Ecruteak town, towards Olivine City. That was where Samantha was headed: not for any particular reason beyond it was close to the ocean, and she was certain the lighthouse would provide quite the view. However, one unfortunate incident halted her progress and that was why she now found herself setting up camp several hours out from Ecruteak. Too far to walk back before the night set in when it was always more dangerous, especially with the rumours of ghosts about. Her legs were flanked either side of the fire, spread apart and stretched out leaving her black leggings hugging tight to her body. The heels of her bare feet rested on a pair of unworn sandals to keep them out of the dirt, and her knees were bent up to keep her bare, smooth legs off the dirt as well. Samantha had rolled up the legs of her bottoms to mid thigh, and it wasn't to make some lewd display. Anyone drawing close would see a fair few scrapes and cuts, like she'd been running through a thorned brush. There weren't more than a dozen or so, but that didn't make them sting any less! Regardless, the first aid kit she used to clean the wounds was open beside her, and she was occasionally grabbing bandages from it to place over the larger cuts in between stirring her meal and reading the book open to her opposite side. "Ow!"she hissed as an absentminded reach for the spoon in the pot made her fingers brush the burning hot metal exterior. She yanked her hand back and flinched, shaking her hand out in the air before more cautiously returning, stirring, and grabbing her fourth bandage. Her expression turned grumpy - Samantha wasn't having a good day - her blue eyes kept that awful pot in the corner of them as she proceeded. The last thing she needed or wanted after earlier was a burn. Short, blonde hair spilled down around her face, she leaned over, and inspected her toned, and slightly tanned skin for the next largest cut. As one can expect of someone on a Pokmon adventure, the blonde was rather fit. Thin, but with toned muscles in her legs and arms that hinted at more than just someone who exercises--an athlete. Keen eyes spotting the one-piece bikini sticking out of the open knapsack leaning against the tree a few feet to her left might have a good idea what sport. Next to the knapsack was a smaller carry bag and purse, and next to those a drenched pair of purple sneakers. They were absolutely drenched and still wet, and if one wanted to know the depth of the puddle that was responsible for that they need only look up and to the right at the jeans hanging from a low branch. From knee-down they were dark and wet, and from knee-down torn and frayed in places. A bundled bedroll completed the gathering of Samantha's belongings, leaned against the tree to the other side of the knapsack. Samantha shivered, and lifted her head to glance about. A sudden chill through her spine, and she considered grabbing her jacket. The violet halter top she wore left her arms and shoulders exposed to the crisp air, and any who might approach given she was camped out right beside the path. She was fortunate to find the small clearing for her little fire, and fortunate still that anyone approaching would see her from the side. The girl was quite oblivious to the way she sat, and the view anyone standing in front of her would see even with the fire and cookware in the way. While she didn't appear to have a Pokmon with her at first glance, a close inspection of the first aid kit would show a miniaturized Pok Ball resting in one of the open spaces, within easy reach. What Samantha Cross did appear to be was all on her own.

A man with long dark hair and a silvery lab coat had traversed the dark and cold night forest. Without a light, he made casual steps forward and weaved between trees when necessary. Like those dark pictures with a strange figure barely visible, at every angle, this man didn't shiver or pull out a phone for a light. As if he were comfortable moving from the couch to the kitchen in his own home, foot after foot, nothing slowed him down. Tall like a Christmas tree and on the thin side, it wouldn't be too much of a stretch for a child to mistake him for the well-dressed and faceless urban legend. Except for his long lab coat and flowing coal-like hair. To his amusement, the cold air had introduced a satisfying crunch in the grass with each of his steps. The rustlings of wild pokemon seemed to grow as he moved closer and closer to the next town. Without a phone light, or a flashlight, or the burning candle or a Charizard's tale, the man in the lab coat knew he wouldn't put off the tell-tale signs of being a human trainer. With this decision, he greatly reduced the chance of inviting wild pokemon encounters. The sounds he gave off with each step, his height, these were the only details that those wild pokemon had to measure how much of a threat he would be. Since wild pokemon don't tend to carry lights, and it's human nature to know where they might be stepping by using a flashlight, it wasn't too much of a stretch for these pokemon to be wary of approaching him. Though outside observation might lead one to the idea that his decision to go without a light was directly related to keeping a low profile. This couldn't be entirely true. As the rustling subsided in some fashion, the young man had fished a candy cane from his coat pocket. His fingers worked the plastic wrapping over the craned end before he stuck the top of it in his mouth. The corners of his lips lifting as he enjoyed the peppermint treat, absentmindedly allowing the scent of his treat to fill the air around him. His identity as a human and possibly a pokemon trainer now vividly obvious to the hoards of wild pokemon that surrounded him. Pokemon began to approach him from behind, a small one, he didn't care to identify it. Becoming close enough for a vine whip or bubble attack, the small Pokmon paused as if ready for an attack. A tongue had grown to cartoonish size from nowhere before running straight up the face of the wild Pokmon. That large tongue vanished as quickly as it appeared before the wild Pokmon seemed to stiffen and fall over. Like a small toy being left behind, the man in the lab coat didn't look back or try to defeat or capture the paralyzed Pokmon. None of the casual trainer pleasures to be had, the man in the lab coat had his eyes focused on a different set of pleasures as he continued moving forward. His curiosities pulled him in that direction as his pleasure was founded in answering the questions that spawned those curiosities. "Good job, Ghastly," he mumbled flatly around his candy cane. The sound of a low cackle enchanted the air behind him. Before long, the light of a fire caught this young man's attention as he previously traveled strictly in the moonlight. The fire glow was easy to discern even with his distance. His steps grew in pace as he weaved around the nearby trees until he could see into the clearing, standing behind a single tree as his left eye peered through his glasses toward a beautiful young blonde. She was still so far away, his vision blurred between her legs and her fire. Suddenly, his pseudo-romantic desire to study her would grow, and the physical contact required to adequately pursue that studying would captivate his imagination. An invisible orb-like shape had brushed against his midsection, gathering his attention in an oddly pet-like way. Glancing to the side that was brushed, the young man let a warm smile grow as he removed the candy cane from his lips. Removing the plastic completely, the man dangled the treat in the air near him before releasing it. Immediately, the treat would vanish. The air around the young man now taking an intoxicatingly peppermint scent and flavor, he stepped out from around the tree and began his casual stride toward the woman. His height might have been intimidating, but his lab coat and relatively thin frame with glasses could be fairly disengaging. However, behind the rim of his glasses had set a cool set of facial features. Absent of color, minus the redness around the bridge of his nose, he would seem cold and yet darkly handsome. The paleness of his skin paired with his handsome features would certainly set him apart from the nerdy young Pokmon trainers that would positively screech to catch a Magnemite. He grew closer and closer as his eyes ran over the young woman, inevitably catching her attention as his steps would cause sounds that would grow louder than the flickers of her fire.

Lady Syn Yronwood F It would have been as dark and silent as a grave if it wasn't for the flame torch glittering in the distance. She couldn't even see her own hands. I might as well shut my eyes. She trod slowly, her feet testing the ground before carrying her weight. Gusts of air blew around her, and she suddenly realized she was naked as her nameday. The dampness between her legs and beneath her arms tickled, and her nipples hardened almost instantly. The longer she walked, the stronger the winds blew, and she could see the torch dancing in the distance, wrestling with the winds like a flapping flag. Yet when the maiden approached the torch, it died instantly. Lovely. Another torch lit itself in the distance, and the girl followed the trail. Each time she reached a torch, it died before she could touch it, and another torch appeared some ten yards away. With time her steps became surer, and the girl started running, her hair flying behind her like a banner. Am I running in circles? She ran from one torch to the next, then to the next, then to the next. She never saw the broken glass on the ground. Her legs quivered and she sank to the ground in tears and muffled cries of pain. I need to move on, she urged herself and crawled; Her hands moved before the rest of her body and pulled her forward. The princess was feet away from the torch when a beast jumped at her from behind and gnawed at her shoulders. The dog barked as she turned to face it. "Ahhhh!" She barked back, and the corridor echoed her hopeless shriek back at her. When the dog made for her throat, Syn woke up frantically. She was wet with sweat from head to toe, and panting and shivering at the same time. Her hazel eyes moved from right to left and back as the reality of the situation came down to her. Next to her, her handmaiden Yuna had been sleeping like a kitten but when she felt the sheets shift, her eyes fluttered and she smiled warmly. "Good morning, my sweet princess," the handmaiden remembered her courtesies, but then moved a hand to gently rub her princess's chestnut nipples. "Not today, sweetling. Have the maids make a bath." They bathed her in water scented with Dorne's finest fruits; lemons and oranges, then they burned incense and ran the aromatic smoke through her brown hair. She wore a Myrish lace that morning, dark purple and black, with her house sigil embroidered in bronze on her back; a portcullis sable. Syn walked the stairs of the Sand Dome all the way to the highest floor where her lord father, Anders Yronwood, resided. The princess walked in her father's room without knocking on the door, and greeted him with a warm smile and a warmer hug. She kissed him on the brow, "Father, you look livelier this morning" she lied. The lord of Yronwood was ghastly sick. He'd die the second he sneezes Syn realized dreadfully, but smiled at her father's own crooked smile. He only had one tooth left, and the only things he could move were his lips and eyes. They bathed him at his bed, and fed him and wiped his shit at the same place as well. It was painful for Syn to see her once mighty father reduced to a blinking corpse. He was the Warden of the Stone Way, and ruled the strategic Yronwood Castle; the last fortress defending the Boneway. He was named "The Bloodroyal"; a title that passed down from generations to whoever was the head of the house. A day will come when they call me The Bloodroyal, the thought was appealing even to the dutiful daughter. Almost as if the wise gods answered her pleas, her father gasped then started coughing blood. Syn's eyes widened like a cat at her father's sudden spasms, then she fumbled around to fetch him water but the water vase on her right was dry. A handmaiden heard her distraught and ran to bring her the water from the kitchen. "Hold strong, dear father. Juhaqa will soon be back with water to relieve your throat". Lord Anders Yronwood relieved his throat with a gush of blood. "Father!" she teared up, and The Bloodroyal leaked more royal blood from around her tongue. Syn shook him, pinned him down, hugged him and kissed his temple to calm him down, but her kisses didn't ease his struggle. He raised a finger her way for a few seconds before he collapsed dead. She gulped, and tasted his blood on her lips from when she kissed him. The room was soon crowded with family and retainers.

Ser Tamir Yronwood F Enraptured fervidly onto the political strife-inducing state of Dorne lately, simpering by the current of the winds escaping from outdoors, passed the spacious window in which he stood. Westeros struck the initiative with the death of Oberyn Martell in a vengeful incited trial of combat against the infamous Gregor Clegane. The gods retain twisted humor on your fate...Red Viper. This irony wasn't lost to Tamir for the atrocities committed in the prince's youth against one of his own. Complicating matters based on eavesdropping from those swayed with ambitions for his family was the tirade this inflicted onto the Martells with his bastards and paramour seeking retributions. Despite the equipoise behind these duels and whom it concerned, even his Dorishmen pride could not deny where to pick one's battles and where pragmatism can work subtly. Privy to extensive access to knowledge since his conjoined youth with Syn, several bookcases decorated the room comparable to the embroidery of one's tunic. Subjugated to the slovenly rule of the Martell bloodline diluting them through the relationships of foreigners. Subterfuge, currency, and an unhinged devotion for dominance was all that helped cling to their rule and to those with keener senses the aphotic manifestations vying for its prestige title and reputation back. A clamorous knock reverberated his eardrum, swerved with mild curiosity never conceding with the appropriate facial expressions pressed into a stoned imprint of sternness. A wiry fellow barring a station practically nonexistent, the gods accursed the degenerate with seemingly crooked dentures more courteous for the wildlife than him and a complexion darkened by a repugnant breeding with Salty Dornishmen like the Martells with slight distinguishing marks of the lands of a Westerosi. Disregarding everything, he was family or scarcely being a cousin far banished from the mere joys of station thanks to his bastard blood. Quite swift in movement, Niall Sand came before his presence with narrowed hues mindful of surroundings. " I..I bring news from my visit from Sunspear itself. The Sand snakes bring complete discord to the foundation of the Martells. Surely this be a sign of a return to old, eh?" "Splendid," Impeccable timing blessed the Yronwoods from afar without showing their hand, amusement for once not disciplined through an ominous grimace. Laded in the shadows unlike dear Syn, the plots intertwining into his devious minds knew no bounds, no morality if it instilled a sense of power where the title Bloodroyal held its true strength once more. Delay depended on the fleeing health of father, even his aloof disposition dare not tamper with the respect he deserves. Half dressed, a boisterous whistle often times a chime to signal for maids was met with urgency. Instead, the greeting came from commotions not too far from his dwellings. Brandishing his revealed torso with a dark tunic ingrained in patterns of silver while amidst the haste of slipping on his sleeveless surcoat of dark gold pigment with stitching of his house embellished blatantly on the back rushing out the door in a frantic state. The disturbance is coming from Father's...by the new gods..no , Unnerved by the acceleration of the turmoil befalling him simultaneous towards the joyous occasion was another cord of irony the gods probably relished at the games mortals bestow upon themselves. A whimsical whistle exhibited by the curling of his tongue was synonymous for nimble communication, priding himself on the guards who stampeded with a protective formation formulating around one of the heirs out of precaution. Immersed amongst family and retainers was Tamir, vision bulging at the bloody sight of his sister and now deceased father. Hushed whispers manifested Tamir's conscious shuffling at the array of scenarios of how this could dare occur. Insidious plots percussed his mind, ascension one step closer as he gradually came closer to embrace his sister in a tender, yet firm show of affection. Conveying a flocculent means of conversation with Syn, what he yearned for was just awaiting him, but it heeded a subtly, deception, and most of all never following back unlike the Sand Snakes as contention came so close. " ....He's gone, isn't he? Please tell me the kindness affronted to him was mundane and not by avaricious for power or one's revenge ?

As her mind came back to consciousness, her senses were muffled. Her head throbbed painfully, and she tossed it as her hearing returned with a dull ringing. Her sense of smell came back, filled with chemicals and Febreeze. Her eyes were crusted shut, and when she tried to use one hand to rub them open, she discovered that she was restrained. This induced panic, and she clenched her hands, trying to effortlessly get out of the rubber restraints. It didn't take long, but her lurching only made her realize that her ankles were also bound. Small pants escaped her lips mixed with grunts. She let out a sickening pathetic scream, which held more anger than fear. "Please, calm down," an irritated voice stated. "You're wasting too much energy." A low strict voice said. She heard footsteps and gasped out, her body stiffening as she felt a strong hand slide underneath her back, applying enough pressure to make her sit halfway up, still restrained. Then she felt a bottle of filtered water put inside of her mouth. "Drink." The voice demanded. She was dehydrated, and her mouth was dry, so she started chugging the water down. She coughed out water, spitting it everywhere, as some went down the wrong pipe. She felt him push her into a higher position, hitting her back with enough force to make more water come up. "Slow," he said, tilting the water back for her to chug. She finished the whole bottle, gasping out, her body shuddering against his weight. Even though she couldn't see, her other senses were hypersensitive, especially her mind, her memory. "Stay sitting." He ordered, and she heard noises as if someone was grabbing materials. She couldn't quite make it out until she felt a hot clean rag on both of her eyes. The temperature made her face lean into the rag, and her eyes hurt. The moisture of the cloth leaked through to her eyes. She felt him wipe the crust off. "Open your eyes," he said. She forced them open, they fluttered. Her vision was blurry, but she felt him apply ointment, gel all over her eyes. He had on medical gloves. Her vision slowly focused. It was him. She stood up with his help, her body trembling, her breath heavy. The Horde is what the media had nicknamed him. He was all over as the number one wanted criminal and mad man in America. Months ago, in Philadelphia he had kidnapped three teenagers, only one survived as he had cannibalized the other two, something you would only see in a horror movie. It had America on edge, a distraction from all the lousy politics of the country, the feds were after him. She coughed out spit and saliva, sobbing uncontrollably. Fear boiled in her fragile mind. Her hands were vibrating against the rubber restraints. You're safe. She heard the voice say, felt his mouth next to her neck. She turned away clenching her eyes shut as tears streamed down. Like those other girls..like Claire and Marcia. She breathed and felt his hand move from her back up to the back of her head, cradling it but his fingers were tangled, grasping her hair pulling her head back so it was tilted, she gulped, coughing. Those names were nothing to him now, they were no longer important. They were weak. Their existence doesn't matter anymore. Yours does. He gritted and pulled her hair so hard it made her cringe, breathing out. He got up and gently laid her back down on the hospital bed. One thing she wouldn't notice just yet is how their location was unknown, but he had remodeled this room. There were two older hospital beds, with new mattresses and sheets and covers. New wooden tiles had been placed down, with rugs thrown down for the girls comfort. The room had been dry-walled and painted. The small patient bedroom had also been remodeled. A good investment was put into wherever this place was. A couple of night lights were spread out throughout the rooms minimum furniture to give it a warm glow, there were no windows. The man would have delicately picked up some sort of medical tub that was organized with all sorts of medicine and first aid supplies. He she could hear him taking off his latex gloves. She looked over and on the other side of the room,she saw another girl sitting silently, wide eyed across the room, quiet as a mouse. Oh god, how many of us did he take? Her first thought was fear for the other girl. Can you hear the silence? Can you see the dark? Can you fix the broken? Can you feel, can you feel my heart? Can you help the hopeless? Well, I'm begging on my knees Can you save my bastard soul? Will you ache for me?

When Vivian woke from her slumber, she already felt as though something was wrong. It wasn't so much of a fully conscious, immediate spike of alarm so much as her stomach coiled into itself anxiously, the depths upturning in waves of oil slicks; dark, dreadful darkness that bubbled painfully as she moved to lift a hand to touch her throbbing temple. She couldn't, but that didn't bother her, not as much as the nuisance of her nose feeling stuffed and her mouth cottony. Her joints ached, knees creaking as she rolled onto her side, for reasons that she couldn't fathom at all. She turned her head. Vivian's dark eyes could make out the purplish webbing against the olive skin of her bare upper arm --- something definitely not self-inflicted, much less there from before--- but she said nothing, did nothing, as she only gently set her head back onto the soft surface she had been laid upon. Wherever she was, she still had her socks on to combat the chill her arms suffered from and nothing else exactly concerned her besides ... Besides ... A beat. The dark yellow cast set off above her deepened the visible signs of her horror, as if it were a late-blooming flower that had just caught up in season. Vivian sat up abruptly, and strangely failed to make an expression that conveyed the discomforting, dull ache that emanated across her lower back and her muted confusion. Only one glance was necessary for her to see that she was bound by blue cables around her wrists and ankles. That wasn't the worst part. What shocked Vivian the most had to be the worn face of another girl, who in turn stared right back at her. The cold flush that wrapped around her body, constricting her throat with a python-like vice, warped into an arctic chill that shot through her veins. Her mouth was wrought open into a silent murmur, a weak intonation, "H-Huh?", escaping from her lips before it died off into a choke. Still, her mouth gaped open like one of those silly bass shop ornaments, but her mind had long stopped her from being potentially obstructive. Too many thoughts poured from her brain into her eyes, which burned like bleach as she blinked away an onslaught of tears. Vivian imagined, as it was the only thing in her mind that was coherent, throwing herself onto the wooden floor, crawling, screaming; then, just screaming, because it was what she couldn't allow herself to do. It wouldn't hurt to imagine it. Then a red flash --- and she was dead.No, won't work, how do I ... "You both are awake now." Time stilled. As did Vivian. She hadn't accounted for their abductor to actually be with them, right at that moment.But why?Vivian risked a look at the other girl, far more concerned at the moment with giving the main the attention he seemed to be seeking. She didn't want to make him angry, especially since she wasn't sure what he was capable of.Be good, be good ... Whoever he was, his side was to them as he rifled through a tub of medical supplies, brow pinched taut as he spoke coolly, gruffly. There was an accent that Vivian couldn't make out, and she struggled to stay in the present. She wished she was home. Away. Anywhere but here. Vivian froze over and her very skin shook as he faced them, standing at the center of the room to look at them both. Images piled up a dastardly body count of faces--of his face--that she had seen a handful of times but never took the time to study. Vivian didn't even know his name. On the television, online news, and even social media, his face was always just there. But now he's really here, and so am I, and so is she. "It's important," he paused, lips thinning, "That you realize how important and lucky you are to be chosen for this blessed consecration." His bright eyes ran over them with a stuttering surveillance, skipping over them to linger then disappear as though he hadn't done so at all. It should have made Vivian feel disgusted, as creeped out as she knows she should be, but instead she squared her shoulders a bit. She only smoothed her expression into a watery smile. Her facial muscles struggled at first, but she managed to anyways. She had to. She ignored the faint burn searing across her torso, her breath fanning out unevenly. "--This must be a mistake," Vivian said, looking at the other girl again, unable to keep from zoning in on the honey-gold strands of her hair. But she caught herself, ripping her gaze away to look at him again. This time her voice did waver. "We didn't."But his hard eyes, unfaltering in their stare, continued to pierce her and pick her apart. He only tilted his head to the side, as if he were explaining to a child something that they couldn't quite understand. Of course Vivian knew, she fucking knew, but she held onto her outrage tightly. She didn't know what would happen if she lashed out. "You both were chosen," As if that helped or gave either of them clarity, but she couldn't dwell on the thought as she saw his gaze pass over her face again, then lower. Vivian wasn't sure where, but she saw his Adam's apple bob. When she determined he was paying attention to her face and the straight line her lips had formed, Vivian warped her expression soft, unassuming. She once again aimed to make eye contact with the girl on the other bed but the man distracted her with his sigh. His knee wobbled as his heavy-shoed foot tapped at the ground, fingers squeezing against the plastic tub in his hands. A couple of beats later, and he took one measured step forward. His glances alternated between them both, then the wall near the beds. His mouth twisted. "Before we proceed further," He cleared his throat, "I have to ... inspect you both and clean you, if you are filthy."His voice was thick, as if it were hard for him to say the words. Vivian didn't think much about it. He was preparing them for something, but what? She wasn't badly hurt and couldn't recall how or why she would be, but she couldn't speak for the other girl. Vivian didn't even know her name; a stranger.Why them?She once again felt as though she were going to cry, but she wound herself tightly. She couldn't allow herself to take a breath. It wouldn't be good, it would catch up, and ... Her brows shot up for a moment. Where were her inhalers?

When you design a humanoid robot for combat, there are certain eccentricities and lapses that can be forgiven. By all accounts YoRHa Model 2 (Type B) was a robust platform, and given her efficacy in dispatching Biodroid occupation and reclaiming earth thus far it was easy to overlook some of the stranger notions of her design. Rather than a sleek mechanical chassis of a full android, 2B's body was that of a gynoid, indistinguishable from that of a human female right up until she cut through four inches of reinforced concrete without a windup. The faithfulness to human form even went down to minor details such as genitalia and pain/pleasure receptors across her skin along with the essentials such as sight, hearing, pressure, damage, and a custom built combat sensor package that enhanced every one of those beyond human ability. It was broadly considered 'creepy' that 2B was capable by design of having sex, but no one questioned it, because regardless of that rumour, when it came down to it, 2B was just that good at what she was meant to do. Cyberwarfare was also something to be considered, and while the Biodroid occupation didn't bother with EMS or any sort of automated hacking, it had been considered prudent to ensure that 2B's core systems were secured, backed up, and installed with numerous safety measures to ensure that her core functionality could not be tampered with. Combat routines, motor control, everything she would need to fight and win was kept safe, while less essential systems were left external. Skin receptors beyond pressure and heat for instance were only lightly secured, as were other subroutines deemed 'nonessential'. These systems were automatically shut down in combat anyways to streamline the action-reaction loops that governed basic battle programming since their input was broadly considered unimportant. What good was having 2B feel pain when she was damaged after all? Pain was a distraction in combat, while a simple readout and robust internal monitoring system would do a much better job of ensuring that information of what was damaged and what was not. So leaving these minor systems outside the purview of major security could be considered forgivable too, here, an error was made. Rather than bundling the switches for these systems behind firewalls with the important capacities, the modular nature of the basic programming modules meant that each subroutine was bundled with its own executables. Had the Biodroids ever been smart enough to attempt an actual hack, they could have perhaps distracted 2B at a critical moment. But where alien ingenuity fell flat, human ingenuity could step in to take its place. A hacker collective, a bunch of thugs for the most part, but a dangerous bunch who had been disrupting operations across the more recently liberated cities. While they were a small threat now, projections suggested that left unchecked these criminals could end up as a dangerously powerful organized crime group, so the decision was made that they would not be given the chance to consolidate, and 2B was deployed to subdue and capture the ringleaders. It never occurred to them for a moment that the android that had laid waste to the Biodroid occupation could ever be brought low by a bunch of human thugs, and in that lay their fatal flaw, but even if they had somehow realized, understood the risk they took, it was too late now. They had tracked the group to their hideout and 2B had been sent in as soon as they had confirmed the location. She was already on site, moving through the hallways, scanning for signs of life as she tried to seek out the leaders of the organization she knew were somewhere in here. Already with both feet in the jaws of a potential trap...

The collective had first made itself known to the public as an organization named 'Cicada 211'. The name was seemingly meaningless and the lack of seemingly pointed symbolism kept the general public guessing or even wholly oblivious to their existence, while the more 'minor' deep-web entrepreneurs were left only to wonder and imagine just what the group could be. They seemed to protest the 'Big Brother' government that had formed in the name of retaking the cities of Earth and spoke of how the 'common citizen' needed to rise up and secure their rights to independence and autonomy. And if it had stayed at that, then maybe they could have been ignored, and the remnants of humanity wouldn't have worried about them - but then money started disappearing. Equipment. Manifests were manipulated so gear bound for vital military posts ended up 'lost' in transit. It became quickly apparent that there was something that needed to be done about them. Some of the finest minds in cyberwarfare and counterintelligence who called the Bunker home were put to work on tracking this mysterious hacktivist collective. Of course they were surprised and almost unbelieving when that trail led them down to Earth, and further to within the liberated zone that had already been cleared and secured by their forces. It led them to a hydro-electrical plant that hadn't seen any activity of any sort ever since it had been cleared of Biodroids months and months past, except now it was pulsing with wireless signals up to and down from the moon. Satellite imagery was even quick to reveal at least a few humanoids spotted occasionally out on the surface or along the damn wall of the plant. Further analysis and recon before sending in 2B revealed they seemed to have nothing for defense from intruders as if they wholly expected nobody would come looking for them. Maybe they didn't? "And they sent one, did they Colonel?" The young man holding the phone grinned at the hesitant response. "Oh don't worry. Nobody will know about your involvement - if you behave," he said with a smile. The aging old military officer on the other end all but snarled his response, despite the awareness of just what kind of incriminating information the collective held on him. It had been through him that the collective had found out about the - unique - nature of the YoRHa Model 2s and that rather glaring weakness. He was the one who had pulled strings upon request to see one of these deadly warriors sent, alone, to deal with the collective once they had been discovered. And the man at their head who identified himself among his peers by his handle of 'Red Jack' couldn't help the grin that was stuck to his lips as he leaned back in his seat. Cameras had seen her, and as she skulked lower and lower into the plant, she was monitored by cameras and EM sensors so that some of his best keyboard-jockeys could keep an exact point on wherever she might be. All while working to uncover those executable files and see just what they might do with them. And Red Jack was gambling rather hard on them finding a way to make what he had suggested work. After all, he wasn't making any effort to hide should she finally find the main pump room. He sat in the center of the room facing the door that came down from the surface, illuminated by several glaring overhead lights, sitting on the edge of a rather hard looking surgical table, and grinning like a cheshire cat as he heard quiet footfalls coming closer even though it was hidden behind the scarlet-red metal mask that he currently wore over his face. As the door would come open, he'd throw his arms open wide as if in a gesture to say 'welcome to my humble abode' and gave a laugh. "Hello, hello! Come in, please!" He laughed again. In his earpiece, he heard a voice. "Jack. I think we found it." "Good," he whispered, "Lock her receptors on.

Glaceon and Espeon were sleeping in a bed at the home of an unknown individual. They were trying to get some good night's rest, sleeping almost completely nude, and sharing the same bed.

Umbreon and Leafon looked at each other and chuckled softly before Umbreon, who had been nicknamed Moonlight, and Leafeon, who had been named Leafy, both snuck up on the two sleeping pokemon. Master was out right now so the girl had full roam, and Umbren snuck up behind Espeon and began to softly lick her pussy while Leafeon would be nibbling at Espeon's ear, though they made sure not to alert Glaceonto to their presence.

It had been two weeks following the events of Honnuji Academy. Raygo had been dealt with, and the world was safe. To H.G.'s own happiness, she now had two companions eager to see everything her box could show them. The engines and rotor of the TARDIS groaned and wheezed as the box gently shook in transit, while its pilot stood at the control console in the large study that served as the bridge. "So..." a young man with black hair and dark brown eyes with a golden tint watched as his companion flipped various switches and pushed buttons. "Where are we going exactly?" Jikan asked as H.G. smirked. "To refuel," H.G. said, pulling a lever down before looking over the diagnostics, including the remaining amount of fuel left within the reserves. "I haven't refueled since before Honno City, and I've been putting it off too long." She smiled, her proper British accent filling the air as she looked at the screen. "The TARDIS has found us a nice little spot that should do the trick." She turned to look at the young boy. "Better go wake Nevada up; I'm sure she doesn't want to miss the chance to see where we land." Heading through the threshold and down the maze of hallways, Jikan grinned as he arrived at one certain door with Nevada's name engraved on it. He pushed the button to open it up, revealing the darkened interior. Slipping in quietly, he ever so carefully made his way to the bed where a familiar figure was quietly asleep. "Nevaaaadaaa," he cooed gently shaking her by the shoulder. "Wakey wakey." He continued his motions, pulling the covers off her body. "Time to get up sleepy head.

Humanity is saved. Life Fibers are no longer hell-bent on taking over the world -which is always a good thing-, Ragyo is no longer an issue, either, having ripped out her heart and crushed it into little threads once everything unraveled. Heh, the irony Anyway, everything is returning to normal at Honnouji Academy or whatever qualifies as normal, leaving Nevada free to do whatever she likes. Rescuing her mother took longer than she expected it to but with that out of the way, well on to the next adventure. Nevada rolled over onto her other side, tendrils of curly brown framing her features. Her lips parted just so as a breath escaped. The blankets were tangled about her hips, showing off quite a lot of ivory skin perhaps more than what is appropriate. Where they will be heading next, she has no idea but in any case, its gonna be out of this world. Literally. The TARDIS can travel not only from one place to another but from one dimension to another, one world to another -the possibilities are endless. Nevadas nose wrinkled as she caught wind of her name, displeasure rippling over her features as reality threatened to replace blissful unconsciousness. Five more minutes she murmured under her breath, burying herself into the blankets before they were pulled off. A chill settled over her body, making her shiver and curl up into a tight ball. Little bits and pieces of brown fell against her cheeks. Jikan Nevada whined, a sliver of dark brown appearing from behind a closed door and gazing at him. Five more minutes please? In nothing more than a blue tank top and tiny purple shorts, of course she was freezing at this point not that he cared, apparently. Im still sleepy A balled fist rubbed at her eye, which was hazy and making it obvious that she wasn't entirely awake. Pretty please? With a cherry on top? Maybe Jikan won't quite understand it, but it was worth a shot right?

Kasumi darted past thickets in the vast forest where she was being chased by numerous members of the Mugen Tenshin clan. They all wanted to stop her from entering Daimyo Kiryu's territory, claiming that he was a dangerous and sadistic ruler. But Kasumi wanted to deal with him herself, without putting anyone in her clan in danger. The only one who would accompany her in this mission was her close ally Momiji, someone who she shared a strange relationship with. At times they were considered lovers, then there were times when Kasumi would suffer beatings from the black-haired kunoichi and be forced to obey her every command. Kasumi's long socks tore in various places as sharp thorns brushed against her legs as she continued to pace through the forest. Eventually, she found the end of the forest and through the opening she could immediately spot a bright light that seemed to be emanating from the Daimyo's mansion. Immediately, Kasumi looked over her shoulder at Momiji and gave her a satisfied look. "I think we're finally here. Do you think we should barge in through the front, shrine maiden?

KASUMI!" She bops her beloved on the head. "I am no Shrine Maiden anymore... not after I slew Rachelle and her demonic essence came to reside within me." She had cast aside her Shrine Maiden days. The woman now wore a black mesh outfit with some fishnet leggings along her long legs. The top was like a leotard and it settled on her curvy figure so well. The sounds of the Mugen Tenshin pursuers were growing closer. But once they entered Lord Kiryu's territory, they would be safe; Lord Kiryu was head of a powerful Yakuza clan, having existed since the time of the Shogunite's first foundation. Thus, the Yakuza was greatly feared even by Mugen Tenshin. The red light of the fenced-in manor could be seen. The woman grimaced and tugged Kasumi's hair. "No time... we are jumping the fence." She said, and with a firm tug of that long auburn hair, she rudely took her and swung her over the fence, likely sending her landing in the lord's pool. But hopefully Kasumi could swim. Then, with great grace, she leapt the fence using the chainlinks as foot holds and landed on the other side. "Sorry Sumi-chan," she said once they were past the fence. The group of Yakuza guarding the door came running. "What is the meaning of this?" One heavily tattooed man with a pierced nose asked. "We are the new servants of Lord Kiryu, and we have come to escape our pursuers in return for our life for Lord Kiryu. Now get out there and keep them busy." She grimaced, sending the man scurrying to gather his troupes to go stop the Mugen Tenshi pursuit. Then she went over to the drenched kunoichi. "Sorry, was it the flow of the moment? Thing?" She held her hand out to pull the soggy ninja out.

Within some odd white room, two people were on a bed, one an unconscious naked Japanese male, the other a naked Caucasian woman who sat next to him. She had unrivaled beauty, with breasts the size of watermelons, yet firm, with a perfect waist with visible abs and a nice large firm bubble butt. Smooth skin and plump thighs, silky smooth white hair, white eyes. To describe any more would be redundant. She was beautiful. She waited for the boy to wake up.

Issei moaned a bit in his sleep. It was natural for a boy his age to have sexual dreams, but this one felt a little more intense, real even... A white haired figure was giving him the best sex of his life, and as he orgasmed in his dreams, he wakes up to find that same figure sitting next to him in his bed. Startled, he jumps off the bed to find he has a massive hard-on. He looks at her and is almost hypnotized by her massive breasts. "Who... are... you?

Ishaq Al'Aqrab walked through the myriad of streets in Damascus, intent on finding this arena he had heard about from the lowliest of hashish dens. This Shadaloo group was looking for members and required everyone to pass through a gauntlet of fights. He had learned the methods of an assassin, the way of crossbow and daggers. The way of the silent and stealthy kill in the darkness of night and shadow, where the good assignment was one that no one ever knew he was there until he was long gone. This fight would not lend itself well to that sort of ability, but a straight fight was occasionally required. Coming to the place, he found the arena and made his way to enter as a candidate for recruitment.

Shadoloo (or Shadowlaw, Shadaloo, or Shadowloo) had recruit points all over the world, in every continent and in many countries. The arena was well hidden. In an alley, you'd have to enter a casino from a rear entrance. Mention to the guard there the password, "Shadowloo lives on." He'd take you down a flight of stairs or two, to a room where you are scanned for weapons, after being searched and stripped of weapons, you are then asked to walk through a small passageway which was dark and horrifying. Getting past that, allowed access to a staircase, where more guards, these having the Shadowloo emblem on their clothing, searched you again. Passing the doors, there was a casino-like venue with a giant cage at the center. Women danced naked in front of the shadiest of men, an occasional dead body here and there, and of course, people watching and rooting for their favorites fighting in the cage. To try to get in, you'd have to approach one last guard, whom you could spot because he was dressed in crimson red. You'd have to pay him a fee, and he'd stamp your arm with the mark of Shadowloo. Showing this to whomever the monitor was, you'd be allowed into the cage to fight for a spot. "Lift the cage upwards!" Yelled a man, dressed in expensive clothing. He was tall, blond, lean and intimidating with how he wore a mask to cover his face. The rumors had gotten around about him. He was undoubtedly Vega, the Spanish Ninja and one of the Four Kings of Shadowloo. It was difficult to ever actually spot any of them, but there he was, in the flesh, and the claw on his arm seemed capable of dicing through bone without any trouble at all. As the cage rose up, one fighter managed to crawl out into a group of men, who help him get to the back of the casino, the other, remained lifeless on the mat, his neck having been twisted until he was dead. "Get him out of here! Let's go! We have more men to recruit!" Vega barked, spotting a stamp on Ishaq's hand. "Come boy, hurry. You're next up to fight. Try to stay alive and do as I say." He looked around and found another man with a stamp, he matched Ishaq's weight and height nearly perfectly. People gathered around and started placing bets, laughing and drinking like this was just a common sport. A bell rung, and the men were left to themselves, the cage didn't come down, so either one could run should he suffer too much pain. Ishaq's opponent immediately rushed at him and attempted to clock him with a right hook from the get go.

The warm summer sun shone down heavy beams of light upon Setsuna's shoulders, easing a sigh from her slightly parted lips. She reached up to her shoulder, adjusting the book bag strap that rested on it as she reached up with one hand to shade her eyes from the intense rays. She could hear the footsteps and gentle voices of her fellow students around her, all headed in the same direction as herself. She couldn't help but feel a sense of peace and tranquility, after the long road of strife, danger, and combat that stretched behind her. With routine classes to attend, life seemed significantly simpler and straightforward. Setsuna closed her eyes for just a moment, drawing in her breath once again just as she felt a light tap on her shoulder. "Setsuna," Konaka's beaming smile greeted her, "Good morning!" "G-good morning," Setsuna took half a step back, a bit surprised but managing to somehow retain her composure to an extent. "Hurry up, or Kotaru-sensei is going to scold you for being late again," Konaka laughed, hurrying ahead of her friend and rushing up the steps leading toward the building. Setsuna shook her head and quickened her pace, despite being fully aware that even at a slow pace she would arrive a good ten minutes early. Indeed, life had returned to some semblance of normality, albeit with some measure of changes over the past few years...

Negi stood in front of his desk with a large smile on his face. Things had certainly changed ever since the end of the crazy adventures he and his class had been on. He had grown, both as a teacher and as a mage. He had learned much about himself and had grown into quite the capable young man. He was more sure of himself and what he wanted in life, and it showed in his relationships. He still cherished all of his students and would give his life for any of them...but he was a growing young man after all. His class had let out not long ago, but he had called a number of students to stay....Asuna, his roomate and eternal friend and lover. Eva, his former teacher of magecraft...was now a teacher of more sensual arts. Nodaka, he had accepted her feelings but he had made sure she understood that his love wasn't something restricted to one person. He also hadn't called on her to stay, but he had told another girl, Yui, to watch what was about to happen from outside the classroom door...she was a girl he liked to tease quite a lot. "Now then...I assume you three know why I had you stay after?" He asked with a small chuckle as he rubbed the back of his head. Already, his cock was beginning to grow hard in his trousers, making his desire obvious to the girls who were now standing before him. His eyes studied each girl's reaction, eager to see how they would respond. It was the first time in awhile he had called on more than one of them at a single time.

Michael let out a soft groan as he slowly opened his eyes. He couldn't remember what all had happened. He remembered being near his TV and he had accidentally put his hand on the screen....then he remembered a falling sensation and now he was here... but where was here? He stood up and looked around. It was fog as far as the eye could see, but from what he could make out, it looked like a TV studio set. He rubbed his head as he let out a sigh. He was tall, around 6'3", with short brown hair and brown eyes resting behind a frame of glasses. His body composition was rather average - not too fit and not overweight, just average. He knew it wouldn't do him any good to just stand around, so he started to make his way through the fog, hoping to run into someone or perhaps a way out of wherever he was... anything to give him answers.

Yukiko's eyes stared out blankly for a moment, the thin haze around her casting a cold blanket around her as she reached up to touch her forehead. What had happened? Last she remembered she had stayed up late to watch one of her favorite programs when she felt a falling sensation... Then nothing. Nothing until this dreary scene layed itself out before her. She let out a slight groan of discomfort before sitting up, turning left then right to get a better view of where she had fallen down. The scenery felt eerie to say the least, empty yet ominous... Without any better plan, she stood up, brushed herself off, and began to wander about, looking for any sign of an exit. As she walked, the cold sensation began to grow more intense, driving her onward until the thick fog abruptly thinned, leaving her in the presence of a young man, taller than her and wearing glasses. At first she hesitated, uncomfortable with the abrupt meeting, but before she could even open her mouth to speak, an irresistible urge took hold of her. "AH!" she took half a step forward, her hand reaching out as a sudden rush of desire shot through her. Her cheeks flushed deeply, sweat glistening on her skin which felt chillingly cold against the cool fog. She looked up at him with uneasy gaze, "P-please..." She reached down and began to fervently rub herself with her left hand while still standing, a heavy state of arousal having taken hold of her.

It had been just a year since everything started to go bad, since there were real supernatural occurrences that seemed to be a normal thing for him now. People who knew about these spirits from other worlds called them dangerous and too powerful to exist in the human world, which brought about the military developing weapons and even a new organization to combat them at least in theory. In practice, of course, it only made things worse. But someone had to do something about it, and if only there was a peaceful way to settle things... until his crazy little sister thought of the idea of trying to communicate with them without any guns or gear, and maybe even date them if that was possible at all. For now, though, things seemed to have calmed down as it was another morning. Shido laying on his bed in his blanket cocoon like always, feeling lazy and not wanting to do much of anything today than just lie around like this all day.

It was getting late into the day, and Shido still wasn't awake yet. This upset his little sister, Kotori, who was creeping into his bedroom to wake him up. With a soft giggle, she admired his form underneath the blankets momentarily before leaping up into the air above him. Her schoolgirl uniform flew up to reveal her pink and white striped panties briefly before she landed directly on top of him, straddling his groin. Grinding herself against him in this position, and tugging on the blankets to rip them off of him, she roared in her cute, but loud tone. "Big brother! Wake up! You're burning daylight you lazy bum! Get... Out... of... bed!" The red-haired girl rocked back and forth on top of him, shouting the whole time. "Shido! Shido! C'mon! Fix me breakfast, I'm hungry, big brother!" Her pigtails danced to and fro as she continued the onslaught to try and urge him to wake up. A warm blush appeared on her cheek as she thought about the awkward position they were in, with her sitting on top of him. Shrugging it off, however, Kotori continued to hound him about sleeping in.

Damn it all... how did he get roped into this? Toshiro sighed as he closed up the locker before him, safely locking his signature robes until he could retrieve them later. This onsen was a bit of a fixture and had been used by Soul Society for many generations, but in all his time here the short silver-haired captain had rarely made use of the services here. He was a man more concerned with work, but that policy was what landed him in this current situation. Momo was always concerned for him, and while he was glad for the concern Toshiro didn't want her to reel him into something as frivolous as this. But she and Rangiku could be a dangerous combination, and together they'd worked to strongarm him into being here. Apparently trips like these were common among female Shinigami... didn't explain why he absolutely had to come on this trip. He looked down his short and slender frame, down to the two towels wrapped about him from the waist down. It was embarrassing, having to wear one on top of the other with the latter reaching down lower, but the towels here were rather modest. And while Toshiro was short in height, he was quite large in other respects that he didn't want to flash around. It was poor covering, but it would have to suffice for now. Sighing, he made his way from the changing area, rounding a corner until he reached the steaming expanse of the springs. Toshiro walked along a smooth path of damp stones, the humidity steadily making his hair fall, until he sank into the water and breathed out in relief. All he had to do was go along with this nonsense for a little while, and he'd be back to work in no time...

This is a good idea to take Captain Hitsugaya Toshiro to the hot springs. All thanks to Rangiku and Momo themselves! If they had not asked him to go to the hot springs with them, he still would be working diligently. This why every so often the two shimigami forcefully take Toshiro to the hot springs! Even if he doesn't want to go, they will force him to go one way or the other. Toshiro already knew they will force him so he just let them take him to the hot springs. You see, Toshiro works far too much! Ask Rangiku, his lieutenant, herself! Toshiro won't stop working unless he has to take a bath, go to the bathroom, meeting, or have a mission, otherwise, he works 24/7. Understandable why Toshiro works diligently all the time, however, sometimes, Rangiku thinks it is very unhealthy for the captain to work overtime. More importantly, it is worse that Momo is fussing over him all the time. Like, seriously! Rangiku understands why Momo is concern for Toshiro considering they are childhood friends however Momo is overly concern for his well being. At times, Rangiku finds herself frustrated, and from time to time, jealous. Which why she plans on getting back at Momo for intentionally causing her to be envious of her relationship with Toshiro. By all means, Rangiku's plan is going to work. For starters her plan is about to commence. Momo already put her clothing in her locker and went into the hot springs so this is Rangiku's chance! Rangiku smirked evilly, placed her clothes in her locker before sneaking into the male's hot springs. Call Rangiku bold for going in the male's hot springs however she planned on teaching Momo a little lesson. Luckily for her, Toshiro is too busy relaxing in the hot springs to barely notice Rangiku sneaking up on him. Walking towards him, he grabbed her captain from behind, lifted him up. "Got you~!" Rangiku yelled, laughing soon afterwards. Elsewhere Momo wondered where Rangiku was because she has not even arrive yet, pondered on where she could be. Overtime, though, as she soaked in the hot springs, she forgot about Rangiku, continued to relax in the warm water.

Curtis' fingers rattled along his desk as he waited for his next patient. It was amazing to him, surreal even, knowing that he would be the therapist to the one and only Emma Watson. He had been watching her on the news the last few weeks, crumbling under the pressure from her various rough roles recently, as well as those who believed in male supremacy threatening her for her feminist beliefs. So while it was no surprise that she needed a therapist, it was definitely a shocker when it was he that received the call from her agent. So now, he was waiting for Emma to arrive. Thankfully, she was only two minutes late when she walked in, shaking his hand as he told her to take a seat. The room she walked into was of a fairly usual size for an office. It had a large desk with two seats for guests to sit at. Behind the desk hung diplomas and awards that he had received, which would solidify his experience and expertise to potential clients. Behind the guests's chairs was a stereotypical therapist's lounge for clients, and a massage table was laid out. "Miss Watson, it's a pleasure to meet you. Now, as you have apparently been told by whoever recommended me, my methods are very different to most. I focus on ensuring patients begin and finish my session with a feeling of relief, becoming stress-free, or at least less stressed. The average success rate of a client's positive progress from a therapist is about 62.7%. My success rate is 99.7%. That slight notch was only due to an elderly client passing away before we got too far." The therapist explained, sounding sad. "Because of my success rate, I take a no-nonsense approach to my therapy. If I ask you to do something in my session, you will do it. If I ask you to perform an exercise outside of the therapy, you will do it. Does that sound alright? I promise that I can be friendly, and will be in a few moments, but we needed to get that out of the way... now... I would like you to strip and lay on your stomach on the massage table. I use massage as a relaxant, while I get you to talk about your issues.

Twenty-one. She had just turned twenty-one, and already had sixteen awards, another five where she was nominated... And more was on the way. Growing up and becoming an adult while still coveted for being the actor who IS Hermione meant that she had some troubles already. Only two more years, and her first serious relationship was over. A horrendous breakup with Matt Janney in December 2014, and she tried to handle it in the most mature way possible. That Christmas alone got her staying silent in Canada, and she realized that her accomplishments and success scared men away, and maybe finding a younger boyfriend almost the same age as her brother Alexander was not the best choice. Emma tried to break out of her public image as Hermione, accepting thriller roles... Trying to become an action hero... And of course doing the job as the UN Goodwill Ambassador, telling the UN General Assembly that universities need to be a safe space against campus sexual and racial assault, for women and people of color. Some of the reactions almost broke her. With almost 50 nominations and winning 20 awards, she felt that she already managed to accomplish everything professionally - what more she could aspire to? With almost no personal life, living with cats and a smaller brother, even her pet hamster who died... Her friend Sophie Sumner got her to the realization that she needed some professional help, and fast. She even shared one name, who was later called by her US agent Esther if he would attend to Charlotte Duerre, a young actress with fear from the public, self-hate - or more like hating the image others had about her, and overwhelming stress. Only when her first appointment was would she show her well known face... Of course it was more to throw off the paparazzy from her scent, as any would be therapist should be able to put two and two together. Now, she stood in the room and presence of someone who made her feel as if she were in Dr. Freud's office. Almost starting to laugh, she found herself crying instead. Was it really her best choice to ask help from a therapist who wanted her nude and lying down? As the last drop in the full glass, Emma's nerves frayed until they twitchingly complied. Shocked, the actress and model tried to imagine it just being a photo-shoot... or a bathing scene... *He must be really good...* she thought, already doing the math - over three hundred successes - and realizing that his methods must be revolutionary, and while shocking, maybe she wouldn't pass away from the sheer shock, or later from being embarrassed. But... she had problems. Last year it was a real hardship playing Belle in Beauty and the Beast, and while it made her sorely miss the romance and significant other from her life, she found similarities between her role and how she - Belle - was all ready to fall in love with a monster... Emma's personal thoughts were that the Prince should have stayed the Beast... Which told her that she needed some changes in her life. Not even meditating or being a Yoga instructor helped change her thoughts back to normal. Whatever that meant, she didn't know. Emma found the only answer in her books... She had to stop being an actress, and thus also forget being a model. That made her recent - in February 2016 - announcement that she was taking a year-long break from acting. Planning to spend the time on her "personal development" and her women's rights work... a last chance of getting better. Being a little shy - or incredibly modest, if others were asked - Emma turned away and blushed, while taking off her outer clothes. The beige female business suit came off, folded and put down safely. Not her usual style... She kept her comfortable white cotton lingerie on, but took off her medium heeled shoes and sheer pantyhose. Hair left in the serious bun that got her look older and like a secretary with her glasses and sheets of paper she already forgot about outside.

It was mid-Autumn when a trainer entered the town, eager to take on the Laverre Gym Leader and reach his goal of becoming champion. Calem was his name, and he had brought along his large grass-type Pokmon, Chesnaught. "You ready, Chesnaught?" he asked, looking behind him at his companion's grinning face. The Pokmon roared out in response, raising its arms. "Ches! Naught!" it boomed. Only a few days ago, Quilladin had evolved into Chesnaught, and today Calem wanted to test his might against new trainers and new Pokmon. Calem laughed a bit at his companion's enthusiasm as they walked towards the nearest Pokmon Center. He withdrew His Talonflame, Duelblade, and Charmeleon from their pokeballs before leaving the center and heading down the road towards the gym. As he walked, he saw other trainers, some grinning and others flustered, walking past him from the gym. "What? I thought this was a fairy-type gym," he muttered to himself, shaking his head to rid it of worry. He opened the front door and stepped into the gym, ready for battle alongside Chesnaught.

It certainly looked like a fairy gym too as Calem stepped inside as well. Pristine white marble with pillars and gilt, a red and gold carpet, and a trio of green circles, one to the left, one to the right, and one in the dead center of the room. The central circle did nothing when stepped on, even though it looked like a warp pad, but the left and right ones both activated the moment he planted his feet, twisting him into another room. Each of the rooms was like a dollhouse almost, and further reinforced the fairy aspect of the gym. Cute curtains, vibrant and pastel color palettes, lots of whites and pinks and purples and warm earth tones. It was all kept pretty spotlessly clean too, not at all like a poison gym... Then he reached a room of crimson and gold, and unlike the first rooms, this one had a trainer in it, a girl Calem could be fairly certain he might have seen before in a distinctive black and red dress. "Oh, another 'challenger'?" She winked at him with a sly grin. "My name's Kali, and you'll have to satisfy me first before you can hope to face our leader." A pokeball was produced from one broad sleeve and thrown eagerly. "Go Dedenne!

It had been a long time since Vale had seen the conflict against the Grimm. It had been three years, but to everyone who had been involved, it had felt like much less. Still, the scars of the battle had been left on the world. Many lost friends and family in that war. People had new scars where they once didn't, missing limbs, and some came out of it as new people altogether. Some had found their purpose, and their own way to make a name for themselves. Some had even become heroes. It had been three years since she had been told she was disowned. When that happened, she had felt lost and hurt. Finally running from her father, Weiss Schnee had stood up to him for the first time. Ever since that day, she had thought of it as a personal victory. Now she was her own person, and even though she had returned to Atlas to run the family business, she didn't let that define who she was. She was still Weiss, one part of the greatest team of Hunters to have ever lived, self-proclaimed. Team RWBY had been a part of what made her who she was. Many firsts had happened during her time there. She had been shown how it was to not be the leader. That her name meant nothing when it came to being a Huntress. Then she had learned that she shouldn't judge a whole race of people for a fraction of them. That had been thanks to Blake, who showed her some Faunus really did just want peace. Finally, she had learned how to overcome loss when one of her friends passed away, trying to save them all or in an attempt to. Pyrrha. All of that had led her to where she was now, standing near the LZ at her own mansion. The Schnee family home was now hers, along with their company. She had come back and claimed it, shown the world her father's ugly face to prove he wasn't the rightful owner of the Dust Company. One of the first things she had done was reinstate her sister into the family, and then gave her team one of the fastest airships so they could travel faster. Only Ruby and Yang really used it. Blake had gone back to her hometown to be with her family. Sometimes she visited the others, but mostly it was Ruby who traveled and fought against Grimm. Now she was standing near the LZ, watching as the Airship was descending towards them. Weiss was still wearing her same attire, the white dress with ice blue accents, which was fluttering in the wind. The day was coming to a close, but it seemed there was a storm heading their way. Ruby had come at a good time. Despite herself, she was excited to see her. It had been a while since she had seen the leader of her team, and ever since the conflict she had felt emotions starting. She couldn't explain them, wasn't sure how she possibly could. They were foreign to her, alien in their existence to her. Once the ship landed, Weiss walked up to the stairs, where she would see the crimson cloaked woman emerge. A small creeped across her face as she watched. Maybe she had softened over the years, but she would say it was because it had been a while. Knowing Ruby, she wouldn't let her live it down; she could be a bit of an airhead sometimes though.

Ruby had been through a roller coaster of emotions as of late. The young and up-and-coming huntress had been through a significant amount for someone so young. Barely eighteen years old, she'd carried the weight of the world on her narrow shoulders more than once. The fall of Beacon had weighed heavy in her chest, and that had nearly brought her to the edge of sanity. Many battles had been fought, and plenty of blood had been spilled. Friends had come and gone like the wind; but eventually things had finally calmed down. After the defeat of Salem, a wave of calm had washed over Remnant. In that time, Beacon had been built up through the combined effort of all the other kingdoms. Opzin was back in charge, and things were looking up once more. Many Vale citizens assumed that the Grim would be no more; but they would learn they'd been gravely mistaken. It seemed that the witches' fall only enraged the ravenous beast even more, now attacking like a wave of darkness washing over an unknowing city. In that time, however, mankind had started to build up once more. Team RWBY had finished up school and moved on to bigger and better things. Weiss had gone back to Atlas to take over the family business as the rightful heiress. Blake went home to rebuild the tainted name of the White Fang. Ruby along with Yang, Penny had formed up a new trio of elite huntresses who took on a whole new level of intense missions. Sanctioned by a newly formed council made up of representatives of each of the kingdoms known as the Council of the Seasons. The battle with Salem had taught Remnant that they had to work together and more closely to keep themselves ahead of the Grim; and that was what the council was all about. Ruby was the natural pick for leader of the new trio and she had been quite eager to recruit a fourth member; when she found the right fit. Weiss had been generous enough to lend them one of the fastest air ships Atlas had to offer. It was small, sleek, and quite stealthy when it had to be. While offering each of the members a room to sleep along with all the newest bells and whistles on Weiss's dime. Currently it was ripping through the air on its course back to Atlas; Ruby had a pit stop to make after all. Weiss and her had been seeing each other for a few months now; and it was all quiet until they were ready to come out. The airship came to a cut off upon making its final destination; Ruby was alone for the time being after dropping off her team mates back at Patch for some R&R. Draped in her standard garb with Crimson Rose folded securely on her back Ruby would descend the ramp off of her sleek airship. Brushing her raven black hair from her silver eyes with a few fingers, her attention immediately set upon Weiss; the lovely snow princess was standing all alone on the landing zone. A sheepish grin spread across Rubys face as she sprinted over to Weiss and embraced her with a long needed hug. Weiss had grown a few inches in three years time but that didn't stop the energetic huntress. Weiss, oh I am so happy to see you, she looked up at her with some tears starting to well up. Ruby looked around a few times to make sure they were alone before getting on her tip toes and stealing a little kiss on the lips.

Oh fuck... oh fuck... oh fuck," Luke panted softly, thrusting quickly yet shallowly as he reached his end. Body on top of his girlfriend of three years, the young man of twenty-six grunted as he ejaculated into the condom. Collapsing on top of her for a brief moment, Luke rolled onto his back and then threw the condom aside. "Perfect as always." Luke muttered softly, kissing the cheek of Scarlett Johansson, the girl of his dreams, and the girlfriend he had somehow managed to seduce all those years ago. It was great too, since his rather small penis of only three inches did not seem to bother Scarlett. She seemed to enjoy the sex as much as he did, and loved him as much as he loved her. "I love you baby," Luke said, curling into Scarlett's side as he fell asleep, the usual when he had his orgasm. He, as always, had no clue just how unsatisfied Scarlett was by the end of the night.

Scarlett lay awake in her bed basking in the afterglow of sex. Luke was long lost in the world of dreams when she turned to face his back. It was midnight, and yet she was not wholly satisfied. Hunger and passion lingered in her body as she tried fighting it away. She felt guilty for wanting more when Luke was completely satisfied with what they had. She loved him for his generosity but God was not generous in making Luke's penis. After pulling off an all-nighter, Scarlett was groggy but disturbing thoughts haunted her mind. Leaving Luke on the bed, she walked around in the room naked while thinking. What can be done? Pacing faster by the minute, she Googled some options and before anything, the idea of a therapist hit her mind. That was the ultimate solution. Every co-star of hers had a shrink. Till date she did not require one but it was high time she visited someone. Scrolling through various names, she hit one randomly, the available number took her to a voice box where she dropped her details and timings. By noon, she had a reply, confirming her appointment with the good doctor.

The lithe Hylian warrior nimbly leapt through the Gerudo fortress. Their light footfalls barely made a sound as they darted through halls. Frequently they melted into shadows, seeming to disappear from existence entirely. Once or twice this actually happened, with the warrior reappearing from another set of shadows. At least three guards were rendered unconscious this way. Yes, unconscious: the warrior was not setting out to kill, or at least, not to kill any Gerudo who may stand in their way. Their path was quite clear. They were here for something. They darted, sneaked, and eventually worked their way to the enter of the domicile. Once there, it didn't take much to realize the truth, to uncover precisely the information needed. Ganondorf of the Gerudo had left his weapon well guarded, put behind wards and walls and guards, but none had stood before this warrior. They smiled behind their covering, realizing that they had what they needed. The smile faded, however, as they realized something worse: Time was not on their side. This information would have to be spread, true. But it would also need to be acted upon. Plus, they'd have to somehow determine if the supposed Gerudo weakness to silver and light magic held any weight. There would be no easy way to do that. That is, unless... the warrior reached up, lowering the bindings covering her mouth. It was Princess Zelda of Hyrule. She frowned, leaning against a column and staring up at the sky. She could communicate with Link through their telepathic bond due to their link through the Triforce. He would soon know for sure that yes, Ganondorf was the force behind the rising darkness and that, yes, he did have some element of the Triforce in some form or fashion. But she'd need to stall time, to give Link moments to gather the appropriate power and become the hero. So the Hylian princess channeled her magic. In a swirl of power, the warrior Shiek vanished, replaced by Zelda's traditional Hyrulian gown. The princess looked absolutely stunning, as if she stepped out of a fairy tale. Her golden hair fell just below her bosom, tied in the traditional Hylian style. It framed her beautifully sculpted face, out of which peered her intelligent blue eyes. Her slender frame embodied Hylian grace and beauty in every piece. Even her choice of golden and white, with pink to accent, made her appear all the more radiant, almost too pure, too beautiful to be allowed. And now she stepped toward the throne, knowing the guards to be gone. She would arrive soon enough to the desolate place, already feeling the lack of warmth. Still, Zelda knew what she must do. She knew what she may have to sacrifice. "Ganondorf!" she called, using her magic to summon a bright violet light. "It is I, Princess Zelda of Hyrule. I've come to make you an offer!" The only offer she could make....

#search=Ganondorf The time was fast approaching, Ganondorf knew this with every fibre of his being, he felt it in his very soul. Before very long the plot that had for so long been implemented one careful step at a time would begin in earnest and once that happened there was little that would be able to stop him from taking the lands of Hyrule as his own, claiming the Triforce of Wisdom and Courage, and claim the princess Zelda as his concubine. More and more often it seemed to him as though that might be the most important of the goals, having desired her from the moment he saw her at a trade meeting several years before. A large man, even by the standards of his people, Ganondorf stood nearly seven feet tall and was well proportioned for a man of his size, with broad shoulders and chest matched by strong arms and hands. Even as he sat, brooding on his throne of gold and obsidian he cut an imposing figure. Several hours before he had dismissed his varied attendants, guards, advisors, generals, and the members of his harem, all had been attending to him but his mood had turned dark and he had desired solitude. Sitting in the throne he had drawn upon his vast sorcery, the only man in the history of his people to master the magical arts (aided by his shard of the Triforce). The silence and solitude helped him focus as he cast his mind out to observe the monster creatures that he had encouraged to flourish in the lands of Hyrule in a plot to destabilise the kingdom and stretch its military resources before the coming invasion... and it would come soon. But as he observed, he felt a sensation akin to a prickling at the back of his neck; someone with considerable magical talents was in his palace, someone who shouldn't be there. Somehow they had gotten close to the throne room and he hadn't even noticed them until they drew upon their talents - like a candle being suddenly lit in a dim room, impossible to ignore. His focus returned to his body right away, and he straightened up in his throne, drawing upon the vast reserves of magical power he possessed to prepare for the assassination attempt he was sure would follow - it wouldn't be the first. But when the doors to the throne room opened and his eyes adjusted to the sudden and painfully bright light, he was confused. This was no assassination attempt; Princess Zelda stood before him, without any guards. He didn't doubt that her magic would allow her to pose a danger to a lesser man and defend herself but he doubted she could match his vast power. "Princess Zelda," he greeted her slowly, rising from his throne. The heavy armour of black and gold shifted as he moved, a wave of his hand igniting torches along the walls of the throne room, granting light enough to see in detail the arrangement of furniture and banners that made it very clear that the man in the throne upon the raised dias was a man with power and authority. "If I had been informed that you were on your way to see me, I would have made preparations." A small smile crossed over his face, looking at her closely, lecherously. "But let's not rest upon ceremony and niceties... please let me know about this offer you have in mind.

Usually, when a particular warrior wanted to bathe, the thirty-five year old had a private tub that could be warmed to her particular tastes. Joined with a decent enough mead, it was relaxing enough to wash away all the stress of the world's weight that constantly clung to the seventy-eighth in line for the Nevarran throne. One quiet dip into an embracing washtub was enough to cleanse her muscles of their stiff aches and loosen her mind from its twisted coils; not entirely, of course - not with a certain Dwarf constantly fluttering in the back of her mind - but enough to give her the facade of complete, peaceful bliss. But that was usually... This wasn't one of those few luxurious times where Cassandra could strip her armor and melt away in her solitude - far away from their Inquisitor's influencing gaze. Much like the main rift they had accomplished in sealing before Haven's destruction, it was just as important for the Inquisition - mainly its Inquisitor - to seal the smaller tears into the fade. No one had put their faith entirely in the Inquisition yet, and everyone was currently watching to see what their banners were up to. It helped that they were literally the only force capable of sealing these anomalies, but it didn't make it any less physically straining. And the Hinterlands did little to reward them with shade or continuously cool breezes. Mix that with the exertion of fighting off demons, and it left Cassandra with a much needed bout of release. After making the suggestion they stop to set up camp near the Upper Lake, wholeheartedly expecting no one else to take the same train of thought and utilize the lake relatively close by. Not that the hazel-eyed woman had paid too much attention after claiming a tent for herself, already feeling the after effects from battle wearing her down, both physically and mentally. With the added sexual frustration that had been building up for months now, it was a wonder how Cassandra didn't end up punching every little thing that disturbed her in any sense (although Varric was always an option). Retrieving a dry wrap and her sword, Cassandra abandoned her shield within her tent to make her way up the hill to the lake above. Little did she know, Einar had beaten her to it - and it wasn't until the warrior stripped behind a tree and a few shapely rocks that the thirty-five year old took any notice of the dwarf. Instantly, her eyebrows pinched together in annoyance, and a scoff barely released from the back of her throat. At first, as she leaned her weight into the rock in front of her, barely covering little of her exposed chest, her anger almost took control and she damn near blew her cover. But the longer her eyes peered towards the dwarf, the more her thighs started to slightly shift against one another. He had always made his interest known - at least, from the types of conversations she'd caught herself falling into with him, that's the impression he gave. But the former Right Hand had never allowed herself to invest heavily into the topics.. or him, for that matter. Despite her abrasive refusals, or obvious remarks about keeping a solid focus on the Inquisition and its progress - not what was between the Inquisitor's legs - it didn't stop her from tossing in her cot, alone, with nothing but the blacksmith anvils below her loft to keep her warm. In fact, the more she tried to escape his gaze, the more she felt herself yearning for it to land on her. Moments passed, and the warrior couldn't separate her eyes from the sight in front of them. It took all of her strength to inhale as deep as possible through her nose and hold the breath as Cassandra forced her way from behind the structures. Coyly, the woman acted as though she hadn't seen him, knowing full well that she could use the nearby waterfall as an excuse for her senses being 'delayed'. As she slowly made her way to the water's edge, and descended within the cool liquid, the breath he warrior had been holding escaped in a slightly shocked groan. The temperature difference on her womanhood was enough to make her teeth suck in her bottom lip, and without thinking, her hazel eyes instantly shifted to lock onto the dwarf she'd been intent on pretending to wasn't there. "Dammit..

The long day had worn on the former mercenary turned Inquisitor, the efforts of sealing rifts and battling the Fade spawned horrors that came through them were beginning to wear on him. Einar had lived on the surface for over thirty years and had seen his fair share of combat since then and before he left the Stone. He had fought battles against darkspawn in the Deep Roads, Orlesian chevaliers to help Ferelden gain its independence, Templars to help mages that had hired him escape from the Kirkwall Circle and more. But none of those battles had prepared him for the duty that he now found thrust upon him. Every moment of every day the pain of the Anchor was there, throbbing, reminding him of his "duty" to the world. Sure the Anchor was no longer killing him, but it had forced him into a position of servitude more or less. Needless to say, Einar was slightly bitter about the situation, but what was a dwarf to do? He had not shared those feelings with any of his companions, instead opting to exude a sense of determination and stoic resolve. But in his heart of hearts he often wondered what he had done to deserve the wrath of the gods and the Stone, to be cursed and called Inquisitor. Such thoughts had flown through Einar's mind briefly as he and his companions settled into the camp near the Upper Lake, but he had pushed them away. The day had been hard enough and he realized that he should not allow himself to wallow in feelings of self doubt and pity. The dwarf had quickly claimed a tent that was further toward the edge of the camp, preferring a bit of solitude for the time being. There he had set about removing his Inquisition scout armor, which he preferred to wear. If he had learned one thing as his years as a mercenary it had been that a leader should not think himself above those he lead, so he wore the armor of the soldiers he commanded, or at least it appeared to be the same. In truth the armor had been altered a fair bit, having had magically enhancements worked into the metal and fabrics that the armor was composed of. The armor had kept Einar safe so far and had helped to endear him to the troops under his command. But as he peeled it off of himself all he could do at the time was sigh, thankful to be free of its weight for a time. His body was covered in sweat and a bit of blood, his undercoat saturated through with it. He had been wounded more than a few times that day, but the magical mending talents of Vivienne had worked wonders, as was usual. Setting his armor aside, the Inquisitor took a moment to stretch, then quickly stripped down to only his underclothes. Einar's gaze briefly went to the weapons that he had carried into the tent with him; a sword known as afalcatathat was favored by many in Antiva, two throwing axesand a blade ofevlen make that craved blood, or at least it seemed to. He considered them, then went over and grabbed his two throwing axes, wanting to not be entirely without some form of protection where he was going. Thus armed and barely clothed, the Inquisitor slipped out the back of his tent and made his way up towards the lake without alerting anyone to his departure. The dwarf made his way up to the lake, stripping entirely by the shore and leaving his weapons near a couple of boulders with his clothes. As he slipped into the water a content sigh escaped him. The water was cool and refreshing, exactly what Einar needed. He dove under for a moment, then popped up, loving the feel of the water sliding through his copper blond hair and close cropped beard. He was enjoying himself so much that he almost did not notice the arrival of a certain brunette Navarran. He initially caught sight of her out of the corner of his eye as she leaned against the rocks, but he pretended not to notice. Instead, curious to see what she would do, he moved over to a shallower part of the lake so he was only waist deep. He reached up then, pretending to stretch. Einar was still doing so when she slipped out from behind the rocks... naked. His blue-green eyes widened for a moment as he watched her discreetly, already feeling a stirring down below. He turned his gaze forward for a moment, wondering what game she was playing, doing his best to pretend she was not there. However the perfect opportunity presented itself as he heard her cuss. Acting startled, Einar turned quickly, then paused, smiling. "Well, I was not expecting company... but I certainly don't mind!" the dwarf declared in his deep, mellow voice. Grinning he let his eyes drink in the sight of her for a moment before he took a step towards her. "It has been a long day and I think we could both use a little distraction from our worries. Don't you Cassandra?

The instructions had been simple, almost childishly so. Properly wash every nook and cranny of the body. Dress in something comfortable. Head to a hotel at this address. Go to the desk and inform the clerk that you're here to see the best girlfriend. Then wait patiently in the lobby. So simple on some levels, but at the same time both looking and sounding like something ripped from the pages of a spy novel. Even as she essentially told the clerk what felt all too much like a password, she very nearly started smiling, or laughing. Better that than getting angry, which had been her first reaction. Her boyfriend had always been a little... demanding regarding sex as far as she was concerned. He daren't be outright about it, and in every other way he remained perfectly charming. He just happened to think that they should be making love considerably more often than she did. Add on her tremendously busy schedule, and they spent less time touching than even she would've liked. Still, suggesting that she go to agirlfriend trainerhad struck her as crossing a line. They'd had an extreme row about it, to the point where she'd very nearly considered cutting him out of her life. That had almost spiked when he admitted that he'd already gone through and arranged everything, even giving her some of the information. She'd all but snapped. That row had certainly eclipsed the first. But then she looked at who he set her up with, and she had to pause: a woman. She was going to be "trained" to be a "good girlfriend" by a woman. There were quite a few testimonials, and for a bit, she was reminded of the training she underwent for her roles. Plus, she could see herself acing this training and rubbing it in her boyfriend's face. All of which explained whyEmma Watsonof all people sat in a rather impressive hotel room dressed like an average girl and patiently waiting. The blue jeans and pink flannel weren't particularly flattering, nor was the basest amount of makeup enhancing her girl-next-door features. Still, the lightly freckled face would be rather familiar, particularly to fans. Big brown eyes clearly expressed the girl's curiosity and intelligence, both of which were fluttering across her now. She kept looking to her phone, reviewing files and the records of this "trainer" (she still couldn't remove the quotation marks, even mentally). Emma had already signed the paperwork, essentially agreeing to follow instructions, even the ones she didn't want to. That had been a bit of compromise: the "trainer" got a privacy agreement with a giant lawsuit potentially attached; Emma got a similar contract stating that if she failed her end of the bargain, the knowledge of her "training" would become public knowledge. So Emma looked back at her phone, wondering for a moment why she couldn't even find a picture...

It had been three months since a man contacted her about a new job. She was told that the woman she was supposed to be training needed to talk about it, and making sure she was comfortable with it. Then there was the issue of her signing the contract that she wrote out, and then finally they talked about meeting places for their training. They had decided on an expensive hotel in downtown, far enough away from the woman's boyfriend that he wouldn't be involved, and she made sure he didn't know the location of this so he didn't show up. The trainer was very successful at her job, and had famous clients before, so she wasn't surprised when she learned that her newest one was none other than Emma Watson. It actually excited her a bit to be training someone with such a strong background in acting, and advocating for female and male rights in equality. This was probably her biggest gig yet, but she knew it would also be the hardest. The boyfriend had already explained that she was not exactly overly sexual, nor did she make time for him as much as they both wanted. The trainer's name was Luciana, she never gave out her last name to her clientele. She preferred to keep them from snooping into her private life, unless they wanted to sort through every Luciana that they could find online. She was a tall, confident woman who walked with the air of someone who knew exactly where she was going, even as she walked into the hotel, and had no idea where her client was. She knew who she was looking for, but as she walked in she had to do a quick scan of the area. She had been waiting to actually come to the hotel when she was told that the client had arrived, instead of waiting in the hotel room for her all day. Finally, the dark, chocolatey eyes spotted the fair-skinned woman who was dressed atrociously, which Luciana should have known better. Probably dressed like this so people wouldn't recognize her so easily. Luciana walked past the woman, her long legs making the trip quick, and as she passed the woman didn't slow down, just said, "Let's go. We don't have all day." They did, but she had a lot of work to get done with this woman, and the Caramel-skinned woman didn't like to waste time if they didn't have to. She didn't even slow down until they were in the elevator, assuming Emma actually did follow her, if not she gestured for her to hurry up. "I'm Luciana," she said, surely you figured that out. I'm not going to make this harder than it has to be, but you Will have to cooperate with me. If you do, then this will be extremely easy for us. Do you have any questions?" The woman asked as she ran one of dainty hands through her long, hazel-brown hair. She was wearing a black dress that came to her mid-thigh and hugged her body softly. She was tall, and had long legs, wearing four-inch heels on her feet. She was slim-waisted, with full, perky breasts, just a little cleavage shown in the small V cut of the dress. Her dress clung to her wide hips, and round behind. All in all, she was gorgeous, and filled out the dress well.

Avecius woke slowly, his back still feeling as if he were in his home, but something felt particularly...off. The room he was in seemed colder than his warm lighting of his house in Whiterun. The fuzz around his eyes from his hearty sleep took a few blinks of his eyes in order to clear, and when he did clear his sight, he noticed that the roof was not his roof, and that this bed was old and smelled of stale hay and a slight bit of mildew. Hurriedly, the Imperial sat up, his hand instinctively moving to his belt to grab the steel dagger he used on adventures and such, but he did not feel it. He looked around the room, and noticed just how derelict of a building it was that he had been transported to. Gritting his teeth, his eyes landed on a figure on top of a bookshelf. Her purple eyes were staring right at him, and though he could not see much more of her face, he could see the blue skin, indicating she was a dark elf, and also her figure being that of a more hourglass nature. Avecius himself grumbled, and stood slowly, noticing he was only dressed in commoner's clothes. He remembered that he had changed into those before bed, preferring the cloth over the stiffness of the leather. He stood at a good six feet, four inches tall, and was a bit lithe in nature, only being about one hundred eighty pounds. This, however, was perfect for stealth, and as such the sneaky approach was his usual go to for encounters of combat. His eyes were a deep brown, currently fixed upon the figure sitting on the bookshelf, and his hair was of similar tone, a deep chocolate brown that was about shoulder length, the strands settling after being whipped around. He decided to stay quiet. He didn't really know this person, in all honesty, and the way she was looking at him made him think there was a reason for his kidnapping in this way.

Watching the Imperial awaken brought a smile to Alkina's lips. Playing with a black dagger with a red serrated blade in her hand, her left leg swinging ceaselessly off the side of the bookcase, she studied the man below her as he slowly came to his senses. His body seemed good enough for her line of work, but she didn't see why Astrid wanted this one. However, it wasn't her call to make. Astrid wanted him and now the fun part of Alkina's job began. The room was just bright enough for the Imperial to see her, but there wasn't much for him to see. The Dark Brotherhood's uniform showed all he needed to know. If he passed the test then maybe he'd get to see more of her. With a handsome face like his, she wouldn't object to it. Her sharp amethyst eyes seemed to gleam wickedly as the man looked up at her with confusion. "Finally awake I see," she spoke with a voice smooth as silk, but had a hint of threat in it. She jumped down from her spot on the rotten bookshelf as she stepped towards him. Her hips swaying with every step she made almost teasingly. "I was just about to wonder if you ever wake up," she said, as the blade of her dagger gently touched his cheek. "You apparently have skills that caught a certain group's attention. I don't think I'd need to say which." She giggled wickedly as she let the blade of her dagger slide off his cheek. Her footsteps so light that not even the rotting floor creaked from her weight. "I got word from my boss that she wants you to join us. As her rule, you have to do a little test." She grinned as she stopped circling him and stood before him. Her blade lifted up his chin so he was staring into her sharp eyes. "I'm not allowed to kill you if you fail the test, but either way, there's fun in this," she said with a wicked smile. Alkina used the tip of her blade to turn his head just enough to seen there were people behind him. People with bags over their heads. For the most part, they were quiet, but a few sniffles and fearful whines came from them. "Kill one of these people. Any of your choice and you will be allowed to join the Dark Brotherhood. You'll be family to people just like you and me. Or you can just walk away. Simple as that." She explained as simply as she could. Her blade ran down his neck, threatening to cut him, but never actually puncturing his skin. However, a wicked idea hit her. Astrid told her he had to kill someone, but it didn't mean she couldn't use other methods to persuade him to join. She let her face get close to his neck, pulling down her mask just out of his sight. The tip of her tongue ran up his neck slowly before letting her lips touch his ear. "And if you're good...you can have something a little extra," she teased and pulled her mask back up before he could see her face. "So...what will it be Avecius?" She asked him, staring into his eyes with her own, wondering what Astrid saw within him that made him so special.

descent into madness Maniac. Murderer. Monster. For a man with no name, he had certainly accrued quite a few of them in his short stay at Arkham Asylum. He was a new inmate, transferred from another facility or possibly from Hell itself. She didn't know and quite frankly didn't really care to know where he came from. What she was interested in was the story of what brought him to such a low place in his mental state of health that he literally could not even remember his own name. Oh, but he was by no means a completely nameless entity. He had come up with his own name for himself, or perhaps it had been the name that was given to him as the only way they could describe his appearance. His hair was a wild mess - vibrantly green in color, a deep contrast to the almost white of his skin, which was covered in a wide array of tattoos of varying nature and none of them making much sense. The only name on his files was the Joker. It was surely some cruel jest at who he was as a patient, or maybe just a reference to the playing card figure, but either way she didn't like it. Before she had even met him she made the decision to offer as much respect as she could to the man and give him a chance to feel like he was a real person about. Harleen made the decision that she wouldn't call him Joker. No, he would be Mister J, for lack of no other name in which to call him. Doctor Quinzel? A young staff member tapped her shoulder as she read over the meager files that they had on the man, her teeth chewing gently on one of her fingernails. Hm? Oh, yes. What room do you want him in? Harleen looked at the rows of doors, all with small windows very high up to offer the most privacy for doctor/patient care to be done in. They could be viewed as interview rooms or interrogation cells. Interview Room B should be available. Ill see my patient there. She said after a moment of mulling it over, as that room was one of the less decorated ones and would give her a chance to get him to concentrate on one thing and one thing only - her. Mister J was a fascinating person, not only because he was a complete mystery to her but because he was simply insane. There seemed no rhyme or reason to his actions, no discernible connection to anything at all. It was just madness. And madness was her specialty. She wanted to dive into his mind and get a feel for him, to understand not just the illness but the person. For the first time in a long time, she was excited by her job, so ready for the new prospect that she could barely contain herself. But now was not the time to be losing herself in any means to her curiosity. Instead, she composed herself and gathered her files and empty notepads and headed to the room, taking her seat at the table. Her legs crossed beneath it neatly at the ankles and she adjusted her glasses before smiling, doing her best so that when they brought him into the room the first thing he would see is his caring, concerned Doctor Harleen Quinzel.

descent into madness He grinned as he sat in his cell, just staring at the wall. He would sit back, letting himself rest against the other wall in the small cell. They thought they were helping "him". Pffft, they wished they were. He wasn't interested in finding his inner troubles and problems, coming to "terms" with them. He came to terms with them awhile ago and he's still the way he is. Maybe a little worse but it's sometimes hard to tell, he'd chuckle at the thought of his state of mind before he continued to stare at the wall. Sitting in this cell just let him loose himself into his own mind more than they knew, and he loved it. His mind was a perfect world. It consumed him, it consumed others when he allowed it to. Now a doctor would sit there and say that was very very bad but he loved it and he wasn't going to fight it either. This place was boring him to no end, he was surrounded by other crazies. The type of crazy that rocked back and forth and talked to their dead mom type crazies. There was no one like him in here that he knew of and if there was he wanted to meet them. That was unlikely though, no one was like him here, they couldn't be like him. A knock would come to the door of his cell, he rolled his eyes. His head slowly turned as a guard looked at him. "Can I help you?" The Joker smiled lightly. The guard looked annoyed, "Get up Joker, step away from the door."The Joker stood and walked toward the big steel door. "Why's that? So you can put me in a straight jacket?...Oh wait you drug me first...." After a small pause, he laughed loudly. "I am forgetting the steps of your little procedures here. I think...I think I might be loosing it in here." He grinned at the guards face before laughing again, harder this time. He had to find his kicks in here somehow; there really was nothing else. Although what he really wanted was to put a bullet through every guard's skull. Now that would make him laugh, he'd feel good about that for sure. "Alright, alright." He turned around, slowly putting his hands on the back of his head. He could have turned around and hit the guard but he was curious to see where they were taking him. He felt the familiar jab in his neck and the sudden darkness that overtook him. Once he came to, he was in the straight jacket...again, still sitting in his cell. To tell you the truth, Joker dreaded being here with every ounce of his soul; he acted like he didn't mind but deep down he wanted out. He was use to so much freedom and to do as he pleased. But in here, he couldn't do any of that. He had to play by others' rules and not his own, which he wasn't dealing with very well either. He was determined to get out because if he didn't, he would surely go crazy. He didn't want to be the crazy talking to his dead mom. It wasn't long before two guards were dragging him to his feet and then down the hall. He glanced at one of the guards; he'd kill him first. After quite a bit of walking, they swung open a door. "New cell?" Joker smiled at the two guards but they didn't reply as they continued to drag him in. As he was dragged in and forced into a chair, his eyes set on a very pretty blonde. Right away that sinful grin crept up onto his face. He heard the door shut behind him. She must be his new shrink. A shrink he certainly would enjoy. Much better than his last one, much better. "Hi." Joker spoke slowly as he sat back, a few moments passing. Letting his eyes examine her before he spoke again. "You are very pretty." Joker watched her expression and or body movement with each word that left his lips. His foot tapped a little as he looked around the room; it was pretty blank. "Well you know my name, now what's yours?" Again, his words were slow but deliberate. This was good; he had a chance to have some fun.

Entering through the Hunters Gate at Winterfell, Jaron Glover was escorted by a few dozen soldiers. The Lord of Deepwood Motte, his sister, and his mother rode horseback. Last month, Jarons father passed away. The last few years were riddled with friction with the Stark family. The former Lord Glover disavowed his allegiance from the Starks for a myriad of reasons none that good. Jaron always liked the family especially the oldest daughter, Sansa. They were close friends and even childhood sweethearts until politics forced them apart. When Jaron found out it was proposed that he marry Sansa, he agreed. Besides, the North needed a united front. The Glover convoy just traveled through the Wolfswood from Deepwood Motte. It was a short trip and it was noon. It was getting colder despite the sun burning bright. The wedding would take place this evening. His outfit was already prepared and measurements had been taken. At the gates, Lord Eddard Stark and Lady Catelyn Stark greeted Jaron and his family. Usually, the wedding took place at the location where the Lord and Lady would reside. However, a Stark would probably always marry at Winterfell in Jarons lifetime. He had no issue with this as he loved being here in Winterfell. Once entering the gates and seeing her parents, Jaron looked for Sansa as well, hoping she was as eager for this as he was.

It had been five years since Sansa Stark last saw Jaron Glover. The young women knew this because the memory of their last meeting constantly played in her mind. Jaron Glover had been Sansa's childhood sweetheart, though he was five years older than she was. The last time they saw each other was at Winterfell, Sansa was just becoming a young woman at thirteen and Jaron was already a handsome young man. The reason the memory of their last meeting was so clear in her mind was because it was the first time Sansa had been kissed, and Jaron was the one who kissed her. It was only about an hour or two before he left with his father, and Sansa had been walking along the halls of Winterfell when she was pulled by her arm into a little alcove, and before she knew it, his lips were on hers. Sansa remembered the kiss fondly. His lips had been warm and sweet, and she remembered his stubble of a beard tickling and scratching her skin. She had never let anyone else kiss her since then. When her mother told her that she was to marry Jaron, Sansa was overjoyed. Even though it had been five years, she was still in love with him. But she was also nervous. After all, it HAD been five years. What if he had changed? What if SHE had changed? Perhaps this marriage was purely political to Jaron? All these questions weighed heavily on her mind as she waited behind her parents for the Glover convoy to arrive. Once they did, Sansa spotted Jaron instantly and couldn't stop herself from smiling. He was more handsome than she remembered.

What do we do with her? A hushed whisper reverberated in Ikaross ears, her eyes barely opened as she tried to perceive the situation. Her body lay flat on metal table as two figures gathered around her. One was an Angel, the other was the Master of Synapse, Ikaross Master and Ruler of the Synapse; a realm hidden in the clouds high above Earth's atmosphere. Residing within this exclusive area were Angels and Angeloids, Ikaros existing as an Angeloid. Angeloids were created by Daedalus, an Angel who was instructed to do so by the Master of Synapse. Their purpose was to live out their days aiding their masters. A thick chained collar would be strapped securely around their necks as an anchor chain would be imprinted on their master's hand, symbolizing their connection, mutualistic or not. Angeloids were programmed to obey their masters wishes regardless of any abnormal requests. Ikaros is a Strategic Battle-Class Angeloid, or called Type Alpha for short. Her "Variable" wings are extremely valuable and are highly desired by Synapse. She has long rosy pink hair which is tightly protected with dark pink ribbons. She also has an "ahoge" which is the long strand of hair that protrudes out of her hair. She has emerald colored eyes, except for when she is operating inUranus Mode, during which her eyes turn red, but when in combat, purple. Her Hair also becomes more frizzy and messy and a halo appears above her head. InUranus Queen mode, she can interface with massive weapons platform called the Uranus System. This is what got her in trouble. Due to a non-specific order from her master, a murderous one, she did more damage than he had intended. Realizing how threatening her Uranus Queen mode truly was, the Master of Synapse had to come up with a solution. We dispose of her. I cant have an Angeloid this prevailing in my grounds. Who knows what she could do. The other body answered, his tone tainted with unfeeling. Im going to discard her down to Earth. He paused before adding, I will have to erase her memories and emotions. I cant risk her knowing of her true nature. If given the wrong orders she could cause irreversible damage. Wipe out her emotions too while we are at it. The thick cyber-like mechanical ear that embedded in her skull could be opened, displaying switches and imports for the master to use. Peering over the options he would select the switch that would essentially re-image her. Ikaros didnt have an opportunity to disagree with her master as it was programmed within her very core to always submit to their orders. Those hues were covered by the closing of her lids, her body shutting down as it erased everything she knew. Blackness encompassed her for who knows how long. He finalized the re-image process by disconnecting their imprinted chain to signify his ownership of her, only the thick chain on her neck remained. The Master of Synapse finally scrapping her body down the Earths atmosphere, her wings tucked in gingerly as she rocketed downwards to the ground. A large light surrounded her, appearing to be a shooting star to whoever watched from below as she burned through the atmosphere. Her body was un-phased by the flames engulfing her, her figure able to withstand most of any obstacle thrown her way. The twinkling night sky was the perfect backdrop as she made her grand entrance, crashing into an open grassy field as she left a crater in her wake. Debris clouded the area for a moment, soon revealing the Angeloid who had just arrived to this foreign world.

Thomas lay on his back, staring up at the sky overhead. His blue eyes gazed towards the dusk-hued horizon, his mind empty of thoughts. His blonde hair drifted with the tall grass in the evening wind. He had only turned eighteen a couple weeks ago. While many saw their eighteenth birthday as a day of excitement and joy, Thomas's birthday had passed by unnoticed. It had been a Saturday, so after sleeping in, he had crawled out of bed and seated himself at his laptop. A quiet day of hentai games and romantic visual novels followed, disturbed only when he went downstairs for dinner and a small cake his mother had bought him before her business trip abroad. It was nearly three in the morning when he began his evening ritual, crawling back into his disheveled covers. With one hand, he ran his fingers along the pillow clutched in his arms, as though brushing a lock of hair, before gently kissing it and holding it close. A bee buzzed overhead. Thomas breathed inward, before letting out a huff of air. The confused insect spun overhead before continuing on its way. The end of school was ahead. He had never thought much about life after graduation. He'd never had many friends, no great talent in science or math. Thomas had always assumed, from the first day in middle school, that he would find his true love. Someone beautiful, pure and inquisitive. They would meet, fall in love, marry, have children, and somewhere in between things would come together. With the end in sight in a couple months however...he wasn't so sure anymore. His hand--small for his age--reached into his pocket, removing a cell phone from his pocket. Thomas unlocked the device, before flicking to a page he kept pinned to his phone. A picture of a pale Japanese beauty in a school uniform gazed demurely back at the screen, long black hair framing her face. Beneath the woman was the name 'Ai'. He stared at it, as he had many times before, until he flicked to the next picture. She didn't have her uniform anymore, and was looking away shyly. A sudden rush of lust flooded him, alongside a poignant sense of loneliness. Thomas stood, the stiffness in his pants forgotten as he gazed up at it. What was it? A shooting star? The light only grew brighter and larger as it descended. Before realizing it was landing somewhere nearby. Arms clad in the blue and red colors of his school uniform rose in front of his face, as if that would somehow protect him, until Thomas realized the blazing comet was passing over him. Blue eyes gazed up at the fire ball, squinting up at it. That was weird...he thought he could see... His thoughts were cut off as the flames crashed into the meadow ahead, the shock nearly knocking Thomas over backwards. His arms flailed in place as he struggled to keep his balance before he stared out at the crater in the meadow. He walked towards it, the grass and wildflowers brushing at his pants as he passed. He continued to walk until he came to the indentation, expecting perhaps to see a lump of molten metal, or perhaps a capsule from another planet. What truly awaited him was in itself far more surprising. A beautiful girl, with long red-tinged hair, clad in a white skirt and dress, which left him little need to imagine her smooth belly or impressive bust. But what was most shocking--moreso than even her uncharred skin or unburnt clothes--was a pair of brilliant white wings, which lay unfurled to either side of her. He looked down briefly at his phone. There was no cell reception out here, so he couldn't call for help. The lump in his throat was quietly subdued before he awkwardly stepped down into the warm exposed soil to either side of the beauty. Dead or merely stunned, he couldn't know for sure. "A-are you alright?" He extended his hand, hesitantly extending it towards her face. His eyes traced her cheek and chin, before continuing along her neck. With sudden alarm, he realized he was now staring at her breasts. A bright flush came to his face and he turned back to her face. His trembling fingers now hovered just above her mouth uncertainly, hoping to feel a breath of air from her sweet lips. He thought back to a first aid course he had taken in health class. He should probably check her neck for a pulse. The thought of touching that pure skin sent another shuddering chill up his spine. His face and torso suddenly felt far hotter than they did before. Slowly his hand lowered towards her neck, the schoolboy half praying she woke up before he could reach her. And half praying she didn't.

It was just another day in the Mushroom Kingdom, but it wasn't an ordinary month. Bowser had been causing trouble lately, with his kingdom growing over their territory and trying to take over the Mushroom Kingdom like a real king would. By divide and conquer, instead of capturing Princess Peach and then getting his ass handed to him by Mario. But this time was different; Princess Peach sent Mario out to deal with Bowser. She didn't think anything of it when he didn't write back to her first letter, but after three... five... ten letters! There was no way he was okay! Just as she thought things couldn't get any worse and that she might have to rely on Luigi or god help her, Wario. She could hear explosions, her kingdom was under attack! When she ran to the window, she could see hundreds of airships shooting cannonballs into homes, businesses, and the castle itself. The Toad guards just screamed and ran around in circles like useless workers they were. Then, a ship flew up to the balcony next to Princess Peach's room. "Oh, princess!" she heard a familiar voice scream. The loud stomping and fire blew out from the airship, scaring the toads even more; they fled. Bowser walked into her room, a huge smile showing his sharp horrible teeth. "Well well well... Guess who won this time?" Crossing his arms and laughing loudly, he stretched his neck a lot. "This time, I won't go easy on you. I always treated you nicely because of that worthless plumber. Now, get into the airship, and your subjects won't get toasted! GWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" He wasn't lying, she could see it in his eyes. He killed Mario.

Oh Mario, Oh Mario!" Princess Peach let out as she paced back and forth in her room nervously. Her skin was a fair, milky white that was delicate and dainty to the touch. She had a perfect hourglass build with mature breasts and a plump ass on either side of her relatively slim waist. Looks befitting of a princess no doubt. Her hair was a vibrant golden yellow that flowed all the way down past her ass, a sign of her royal privilege, she had the servants and free time to maintain such a saintly appearance. Her eyes were an alluring blue that emanated with her powerful standing. She was wearing her standard pink gown, encrusted with expensive blue gems her earrings were also a matching pair of those gems. Beneath her gown she wore long white stockings that crawled all the way up to her thighs and a pair of red heels. On her head sat the polished crown of the Mushroom Kingdom, the most valuable jewel in all the lands. Wind gushed in through the large window at the front of her room and sent her gown and hair flowing through the air in unison, although from what cause she didn't nor did she give it a moment of thought while buried in her concern for Mario. "Ah!" She yelped out in surprise as explosions boomed what seemed like just outside her castle and moments later tremors shifted the floor beneath her feet and almost send her on her ass. Princess Peach rushed towards the window to see what was going on and her eyes shot open in surprise as she saw her kingdom under siege but before she had even enough time to fully comprehend what was happening she came face to face with the massive terrible turtle that was Bowser, the Koopa King. "You won't get away with this Bowser!" She shouted towards him instinctively before staring into his eyes with a powerful glare: but upon seeing his confidence and hearing his words suddenly her heart sunk and with it went the majority of her strength. '...He doesn't mean... Mario i-is-' She thought to herself, her mind suddenly cast into an ocean of depression as she realized the very thing she had been fearing may have come to term. So with the loss of Mario hitting her with full force and Bowser's threat to burn her kingdom and her subjects to the ground right beneath her feet she swiftly let out, "O-Okay! I-ll come with you just don't hurt anyone!...else...

The last place Aerith Gainsborough ever wanted to be was where she currently was. The science department hadn't changed since her last visit there, when she was but a child. The first seven years of her life were spent here in Hojo's domain, a test subject for many various and sometimes cruel experiments with her birth mother. She never wished to be back here, but it had been the Turk Tseng who had betrayed what little trust she had in him and brought her back to the place of her nightmares. She was given a few injections upon her arrival, in order to make her more compliant and to assist in the medical research that Hojo was having her partake in. The brunette woman was just in her twenties, and was in the bloom of her youth. Her hair was tied up into a high ponytail twist, a knotted bow with a materia orb resting on the top. The materia orb shone and sparkled, a unique shade of green, the same as her eyes. That was the only stitch of clothing she had left on, as the lab assistants stripped her of the remainder. They informed her it would only get in the way of the experiments that were to come. Once the injections were administered, she was led to an examination table. It was there that Hojo entered. Let me go! Aerith struggled against the leather medical restraints, still having fight left in her. Her legs were spread for Professor Hojo to give her a thorough examination, using a speculum and other medical devices. He approached this task as if it were nothing out of the ordinary, an assistant typing out the notes that he verbally made. Aerith felt her thoughts begin to turn hazy, but was still keenly aware of everything happening to her. You happen to be in the prime of your breeding life, Miss Gainsborough. Are you sexually active? Professor Hojo inquired in his detached way, adjusting his glasses as he handed the soiled instruments to another assistant to clean. Im not...not telling you anything! Aerith was defiant, a flush on her cheeks. That will change. Your hymen isnt detectable; that could be from physical activity, however. Rowland, Posey; take our Cetra specimen to containment tank 13F. Hojo ordered his assistants about, who were more than willing to comply with the wishes of the Head of the Science Department. They grabbed her arms on either side of her, leading her down the narrow hallway where the containment tanks were located. The artificial lighting was harsh, Aerith cringing away from it as she was dumped rather unceremoniously into a containment tank. Aerith fell in, on her bottom, going to scurry her way against one of the walls. Once inside, she noted some bedding on the ground, and a gate with a red light above it against the wall. The only light filtered in from the hallway light, which wasn't as harsh. There were some grates on the ground, which she surmised had to be for the air filtration system. Her brain was doing the best it could to cope with what was happening to her, feeling sluggish at best. The only thing left to do for the last Cetra was to wait and see what was to happen to her.

It was a deep longing now that had taken over. A longing for home, for his faded species, for freedom. Over the time he had been a prisoner and subject for Shinra's research and development department, Nanaki's fight was repeatedly beaten and sedated out of him. His skin forever carried branding of his time spent in the form of a number XIII, a simple marking for tracking on the side of Hojo and his team but for him, a permanent sign of shame. Presently, the beast was muzzled and fighting the effects of a drug which was mostly a futile and stubborn resistance, considering the drugs always won out. They had more on ready supply than he had willpower - Unfortunately, even the strongest of minds could fight against chemical assault for only so long. The dosages didn't start off so high but after a number of assistants and guards lost fingers or suffered mangled limbs or worse, Hojo finally had enough complaints to receive firm orders to not send any more staffing around the dangerous 'animal' unless properly subdued. It irked Hojo further anytime control of test subjects was taken away from him, even when what was requested was entirely reasonable. The man, quite frankly, seemed to have his own agenda. Not that Nanaki particularly cared for the reasons behind this warped human behavior, but given the circumstances, they were very much impacting his life and even while muzzled and drugged, a strong hatred was nursed in his core. And it waited for a chance, any chance at all, to strike back at his cruel captors. For now, however, they were very adamant about a new project being underway. They rarely asked him questions because he wouldn't speak to them. But he could understand. They were going to attempt a breeding experiment. "We'll pair him and the Cetra - preserving both bloodlines through a mating process." He overheard Hojo's casual explanation. The first mention of breeding, Nanaki had something of genuine hope that they were making an effort to prolong the lifespan of his own species but very quickly did it become obvious that they had something different in mind. They started with a bizarre process to condition his body and mind to react sexually to who they meant to mate him with. The first picture they showed him earned virtually no reaction - It was just another human female and Nanaki was already teetering on the brink of resentment with all of humanity, given his situation, but their efforts continued, day after day, slowly breaking him. The pictures kept coming. First, they were distant, obviously taken from afar, as if someone was spying on a woman in a pink dress. Sometimes selling flowers, sometimes in a church, sometimes at home. She never seemed aware of the camera. When they showed him these pictures, they would stick a needle into his backside and inject a syringe full of... something. Not only did it give a slightly intoxicating side-effect, but it spiked his arousal through the roof. Even then, it was easy enough to let his mind wander away at thoughts of members of his own species, but it didn't stay that way. The associative conditioning continued. Only now the pictures were up close and the girl was often nude and either unconscious or concerned or angry. It didn't take long for test subject number XIII to realize she must be captured too. For pretty soon, it showed her restrained as well. Soon after that, videos too, of Hojo 'inspecting' her. Normally Nanaki's moral compass would have no problem concluding these people were madmen and the girl a victim, but the influence of the drug rose and soon her scent was added to the routine. It came in the form of clothing, her dress and then her panties, each day, brought before his powerful sense of smell. After a while, it was a strand of her hair. With every object, the drug was administered. Eventually, it became all he could think about, even when every ounce of his being tried to think of something else. Of his hate for Hojo and Shinra, people. Of his longing for home and freedom and his tribe. But it would always come back to the girl. This woman in pink, captured, ribboned hair... It became obsessive. Flashes of her occupied his mind. It stirred a deep ache and he found himself pacing his cells restlessly, with a sense of hunger that couldn't be sated by food. Finally, Hojo himself and two guards came to him. "It's time Red XIII." He spoke, marking something down on a clipboard he carried with him. The two guards moved in on either side of him, one distracting him as the other quickly went around to wrapped his large frame around Nanaki's backside and weighing him down as Hojo moved swiftly to inject the drug again. At this point, the restraining was hardly unnecessary, his fight was absent. Dead. And all Hojo would have to say at this point was... "You're going to see her now." Away they led him, to the cell of Aerith Gainsborough, Last Cetra, mother to the rest of their species.

Ugh." Rin Tohsaka groaned to herself as she mounted the steps that led up to the roof of the Academy. She had many things to be doing at the moment, most importantly fighting in the currently ongoing Holy Grail War that was in Fuyuki. She had been preparing for this for a long time, and she was not going to let the opportunity to win a chance to reach the Root and accomplish her families dream to pass her by without a damn good reason. Admittedly, thins had not been going that well so far. She had been stuck with some unknown Archer rather than the Saber that she wanted, and she'd been saddled with that idiot Shirou Emiya as an ally. Admittedly they had managed to do some good work together, but at the end of the day she still wanted to win. She'd just have to handle things one step at a time it seemed. Like this, for example. Brushing a bit of her long black hair behind her ear, her school uniform ruffled in the wind as she stepped out onto the roof. "Alright, I'm here," she said aloud, looking around. She didn't really want to be here, but that rat Shinji Matou had said that it was important. Seeing as he was involved in this whole business due to his family, she figured she might as well show up. She could listen to whatever request he had, laugh in his face, and then get back to something actually important. Here was hoping this wasn't some kind of prank where he stood her up.

Shinji was waiting on the roof, with his normal smug grin on his face as he leaned against the fence. He saw Rin walk through the door and chuckled. He knew about the little alliance Rin and Shirou had formed, and that irked him to no end...so last night, he was struck with an idea. Once that he was sure would get Rin to listen to him. "So you are...so happy you could make it, Tohsaka-san." Shinji seemed to place emphasis on her last name as he approached her. He reached into his pocket, clearly grasping something. "I've gotten tired of how isolent you been treating me....spurning my alliance to work with a rookie like Emiya-kun....I thought you were smarter than that." He teased as he continued to approach her. "Still, it irks me that you did that....so I'm going to have to punish you." He pulled out what was in his pocket and tossed them to Rin. They were pictures....all of Sakura. She was being fucked, in many different positions. She was completely nude in most of them, covered all over with cum. Still....what might have surprised her the most was her expression....it was one of pure bliss and enjoyment, a very lewd expression. Shinji laughed as Rin examined the pictures. "Your sister is such a slut, Tohsaka-san....she loves getting drilled by my cock or any cock for that matter! So if you don't want your sister's life to be ruined....I suggest you listen to me." Shinji licked his lips as he was now just a few feet away. "And don't bother ripping those up...I have plenty of extras as well as files secured on my computer...." Shinji added...letting her know that ripping up those pictures would be a wasted effort.

Taiei Shopping Town couldn't withstand the forces of the zombies. What the group of Fujimi Academy students and teacher had believed to be an impenetrable fortress fully stocked ended up being just as flimsy as all of their previous hideouts. The worst part of the building being compromised was that it all happened so fast. The group had felt cocky there, so they had let their guard down. So there was no escape plan, and no back-up location. It was all Saya Takagi could do to get out of there alive and unscathed. The self-proclaimed genius honestly should have seen such a situation coming. The apartment they hunkered down in briefly wasn't safe - mostly due to Takashi's insistence on being a hero for the defenseless little girl. Alice had turned into a sort of unofficial mascot for the group, proof that there should still be hope and innocence in such a cruel world. And not even her family estate could withstand the forces of Them. Even with all their loyal guards and money, nothing mattered in the end. Without having a disaster plan when the over-glorified shopping mall fell, the pink-haired girl was quickly separated from her group. She had long ago lost her Fujimi Academy uniform, dressed instead in an outfit she picked off the racks from the shopping mall. Her hair was still styled in the high twin tails, her glasses still in perfect condition. Saya wore an olive green midriff tank top, with the letters HQ emblazoned across her chest. On anyone else, it would have been a full-length T-shirt but thanks to her voluptuous body type, it was tighter and shorter than it should be. A pair of shorts in the same shade barely brushed the top of her thighs, and thin suspenders kept them up thanks to her wide hips and bubble butt. Saya had left with no supplies whatsoever, and her only weapon was a serrated pocket knife. Honestly, she would have given her left arm in that moment for an automatic pistol. Thanks to the screams of one of the survivors they had been hunkering down with, the zombies were very distracted. The undead tended to follow their hearing more than their seeing, and that person was making enough noise to literally wake the dead. Thanks to such a distraction, the busty girl was able to put some distance between herself and the site of the tragedy. What Saya couldn't have anticipated was seeing a shop with lights on. She had to rub her eyes and double check, thinking that it had to be her imagination. No thanks to the EMP that detonated over Japan, electricity was now a thing of the past. But this building must of ran off of a generator in order to retain electricity. Saya cast her orange hued eyes up to the sign to see exactly what sort of place would still have power. After she read the sign once over, she had to stop to do it all over again thanks to shock. It seemed the only building left in Japan with power happened to be an adult shopping center. She silently wondered what could the odds possibly be as she made her way towards the shop in question. There were flyers in the front windows, advertising upcoming DVD releases. Saya approached the entrance, looking about to see her current situation before she would devise a plan to get the attention of whoever was in the building. Without a zombie in sight, Saya thought it prudent to begin to bang on the door to get the attention of whoever was inside. Open up! Open up right now! Saya was striking the door with both of her fists balled up. She needed to draw attention to herself sooner than later, if she wished to survive. Please, I'm alive out here! Alive and no bites! As much as the heir to the demolished Takagi estate didn't want to beg, she figured it best to appeal to whoever would be the person to seal her fate.

Hirou Uzumeki used to be your average rebel and delinquent kind of guy from his own high school. Though not really the stereotypical way you think one is, but more on the fact that not many could get near him due to his appearance and his strange "ways" at times. He always felt there was something unpredictable would happen to the world and it be something that we humans, for the majority, might not be prepared for. These type of thoughts stayed with him during his first year in high school and into his second year, when he saw the janitor of the school acting weird as he started groaning and moaning while walking around aimlessly around the school ground. At first, Hirou thought the janitor had an hangover or something from drinking too much since some of the students knew he was a drinker and even drank on the job sometimes, but not enough to sabotage his work. Hirou soon realized that the janitor was dripping a reddish substance off from his body that was spilling onto the floor. It didn't take him long to realize along with some students and few teacher staff that the janitor was injured. Being good people, they came to the janitor's aid to see if he was okay and wanted to take him to the nurse office if he was really injured. Though when the first person touched him, the janitor acted out wildly and bit down hard onto the arm of the person helping him, causing a screaming from the victim and utter shock from everyone around Hirou. The janitor continued to bite and hit around the people holding him down, which led to a big brawl that accidentally killed the janitor. At this point, it would be best to call the police about what had happened here, but sadly there wasn't enough time as the ones who kept the janitor at bay and the victim who got bitten began acting strange around the other people who were helping them out. They began having same symptoms like the janitor had before suddenly attacking the other students and teachers nearby them. Hurting the people around the same way the janitor did, causing mass panic as everyone including Hirou began getting away from them. The young rebel was trying to get his head together on what was going on before hearing on an intercom from the school's principal about the situation right now and telling everyone to evacuate from the school right now as some "disease" was plaguing the surrounding area they were in and affecting some of the people around them. This caused the crowd of people in the school to grow even more massive with panic as everyone ran away to survive from this mysterious outbreak that was hitting their school. Hirou couldn't believe what was happening, and that his prediction of something "unpredictable" to happen was really going on. As Hirou ran away and far from the school, he saw various horrific sights as he saw people being attacked and devoured by others who were sane moments ago but once they were injured by someone "sick," they became sick themselves and began killing anyone around them. This wasn't just the case around his school, but the whole city was suffering from this too as he looked around within the streets while he ran and watched TV screens from stores that sell them that showed an epidemic of incidents similar to his own from his school happening around within the city and spreading outward to other living areas, if not the whole country of Japan. What had changed from yesterday of a day of peace and cool environment within the country had just become an apocalypse nightmare in the blink of an eye. During these events, Hirou saw innocent people ranging from children, teenagers, adults, elderly, etc., being killed and mauled by "sick" individuals or by crazy and hardcore survivalists trying to save their own skin and trying not to get killed. Seeing stuff like that for the next days left a impression on Hirou as he could truly see it was a "dog-eat-dog" world and you couldn't seem to trust anyone. Not the disease victims or even the people who are alive and doing everything to survive, even if it means killing their non-affected people to get by. During the course of several days and weeks that the epidemic has passed, Hirou did his best to survive as he soon found a place he could hide out at for the time being. It would be an apartment building slash ground adult shopping center floor. He never thought he'd need to be in an porno store to survive, but what choice does he have in a time like this one? He stayed in this building for few weeks now and surprisingly the whole building miraculously had the supplies needed for his survival for food and water. There were times he secretly went outside of the building, but only to get weaponry and gear needed in case of the zombies coming inside his new home. He also needed stuff to help create an makeshift barrier and security system to stop anyone or anything coming inside unless Hirou was the one with the special code to stop the system. Though, it didn't seem to be working at the moment as Hirou heard loud sound of knocking coming from the door along with a voice. He could already tell that it wasn't a zombie as they wouldn't be this loud and vocal, but was hesitant on letting the person inside his place as he didn't know if this person's mind was no longer sane due to the current events and was trying to take advantage of his hospitality to kill him later. Hirou merely sighed about this as he slowly walked to the door. "Could you please stop hitting the door? If you knew better, you would know that sound can bring those freaks near, so knocking that loudly will really wake up the dead." Hirou said as he scratched the back of his head. "Also, no way on letting you inside. Just because you don't have bites or not, you could still be dangerous. I've seen how this stuff make people insane, so how do I know your mind is still sane 100% and won't try to do some bullshit betrayal on trying to kill me and take my stuff in this 'survival of the fittest' type of scenario?" Hirou said asking the person from behind the door.

Nadia was an insufferable tomboy for her father, the King. She snuck out of the castle, calling herself Marle, ditched royal body guards, and was otherwise the shame of the royal family. So the King hired Scarlet to keep watch on her from the shadows, to make certain that if she was going to sneak out, at least she would not come to harm. Scarlet got a good night's rest, as the ringing of Leene's bell that morning signaled the start of the Millennium Fair. There was no way that Nadia would not try to see the sights of the fair without the ponderous formalities such as bodyguards, ribbon cuttings, and stuffy formal clothes. Keeping watch on her window, she saw Nadia slip out in the ridiculous peasant get-up she insisted on, and it was a simple matter to follow along behind her, as she cleared the castle walls and made a beeline for the fair.

There she is! How predictable." Said a 21-year-old female who was slightly taller than average, with long brilliant red hair that flowed down all the way to her plump ass. She had fair white skin that contrasted with her bright hair and bold blue eyes, which seemed to give her a commanding presence even among men. Light freckling on her nose and upper cheeks distinguished herself from her otherwise blemish free visage and resulted in her looking a few years younger than she was. Her build resembled an hourglass with mature breasts and thick hips on either side of her relatively thin waist. She was wearing the type of flamboyant outfit you could only expect from a mercenary, a mix between a whore and a town guard, but confident enough to prove that she was neither: A cloth red miniskirt that seemed to be woven with leather strips and showed off her luscious thighs, a matching short-sleeved blouse that frilled an inch or two past her waist, but on its back was a massive sheath that contained a great-sword that stretched almost her entire height. With a blade that heavy it was clear why she wore small amounts of armor and clothing. Her boots were a similar red and they climbed far up her calves, probably the most well defended part of her body; her panties on the other hand were a cute pink that grasped tightly onto her pussy and showed a noticeable cameltoe whenever someone took an easy glance beneath her skirt. Although these panties were tight and uncomfortable on her now they were her favorite pair from when she was younger so she wore them for good luck. So with her charge sighted, she followed in a jog and made sure to stay far enough away from the girl that she could retain her anonymity but still keep an eye on her employer's daughter.

Michael let out a loud moan as he buried his cock into the wet and tight pussy of Hermione Granger. Michael himself was 24, tall with an average build and short brown hair that wore glasses. He was a grad student living in a single bedroom apartment in NYC while attending NYU. Still, while he was coming back from getting coffee one day, this girl had showed up in his room. He wasn't sure how...but she looked exactly like Emma Watson but claimed to be Hermione Granger...it had taken awhile to figure out but after explaining things, it seemed the actual Hermione had gotten transported to what Michael called the "real" world. He offered to let her stay at his place until they could try and figure out how to get her back...but until she could get a job here...she had to pay rent in someway...so he convinced her to let him partake in her body. Now, he was slamming into her from behind, his hips slapping against her bare ass and making it jiggle as one hand groped at her breast, squeezing it and causing her flesh to mold against his digits. "How is it, Hermione? You like my cock inside you, don't you?" He whispered hotly, nibbling and sucking on her earlobe as he pounded into her, eager to hear her reaction.

Let's just say waking up in a room you don't recognize is insane. Hermione felt as if she were still dreaming in her bed in the girls dormitory, but everything became all too real as she didn't wake up after several attempts. Being called Emma was not the best moment of her life either. No girl liked being called the wrong name. It was degrading, however, Michael had just seemed confused. Luckily for her he had been willing to sort it out, but just like magic his help came with a price and apparently his price was her. Kneeling here on this lumpy mattress was not the best of standards, but it could have been far worse, especially since her magic did not seem to be working. His grip tightened on her breast, dragging a small moan from her lips. Her neck and breasts were very sensitive. Biting her lip, the girl dug her fingers into the sheet, tugging on it as he pounded into her. "Bloody hell Michael. Your cock feels so good." She moaned. Most of it was for his benefit, but in honesty it felt amazing. Hermione arched her back as he pounded away into her pussy, knowing he liked it when she got more vocal. "Fuck me Michael. Make me cum." She begged him, knowing that the sooner she came the sooner he would follow, then he would shove his cock into her mouth and make her suck it clean. Their little ritual had become habit to the point where she could predict every action that was going to happen.

A loud churning could be heard as the black Ark's anchor was retracted and the mammoth ship started to sail out into the sea. No one on board really had any idea where Malekith was taking them. However, they were the best of the best, only those most loyal to Khaine were aboard this ship, and well, the odd Slaanesh worshipper here and there, as Malekith's mother, the Hag Sorceress of Ghrond, was also on board. Some of the guards couldn't help but be enchanted by her beauty, but looks were all they dared do. Some were fearful of what she did with any of her lovers, whispers of sacrificing them mid-orgasm or locking them up to be used as living semen dispensers. Others were simply fearful of Malekith's wrath should he take a disliking to anyone growing too close to his mother. A few hours into the journey to wherever the ship was going, a servant approached Morathi bowing heavily. "My lady," the servant said. "The King wishes to inform you that he wants to meet you for dinner at 9 to discuss plans and the voyage. He also said not to bother him until then.

Her enchanting beauty was undeniable, her huge, long, sleek black locks seemingly flowing behind her as if a rush of wind were constantly keeping them up. As she made her way slowly through the black halls of the ark, her wide hips shifted from side to side to a rhythm no male or female elf she passed could resist. Her rounded, porcelain posterior stood out to those behind her, clad in only a small, tight black cloth thong that seemed to enhance her perfect features, the thin purple length of cloth that flowed down the front of her figure dancing sexily between her thighs as she went. Clad in a resplendent night black metal breastplate, it was little more than a sharp looking bra, though her left breast prodded out of its circular support, supple and completely exposed for all to admire. The loud clacks of her high heeled metal boots and staff stopped when the servant approached her and offered her Malekith's will. "Oh? Does my son think he can impose his will upon me as well?" she said with her seductive voice, her tone alone nearly able to make any man cum instantly. Still, she uttered a chuckle and dismissed the servant. "Very well, I will play his game. For now..." Though she did not show it, she was utterly pissed. 'What does that sniveling runt think he's doing telling ME what to do!' she thought to herself, a slight grimace forming on her face, 'He prefers the company of those dainty bitches instead of his own MOTHER!? 9 pm will come and I will be sure to teach my son a lesson...' Until then, the clacking started again, the stares resumed, and she headed further down into the belly of the ark. She had two hours and she was not about to waste them. Bursting into the chamber of Pleasure, or at least that was what her followers called it in secret, she peered around at her loyal witch elves and motioned her priestess over. "Is the captive ready? I want her to know that the only one who makes love to my son is ME. And I plan on teaching her this quite directly...

Erza and Lucy were in the guild just relaxing since they had gotten back from a mission not too long ago; they needed to relax. Lucy was laying her head on the bar table, saying how much she was sore. Erza, meanwhile, was off walking to the master of the guild about the mission report before she came downstairs. Erza was about to say something to Lucy when the door opened up and everyone seemed to stop talking and just watched as a girl had come into the guild. She looked so beaten up and torn that it was hard to tell what color her clothes used to be. Her long blonde hair flowed behind her as the guild master stood by the balcony and looked on in shock. Meanwhile, Erza and Lucy had moved as they heard something; they left the guild and went toward their friend's room, which they shared with some of their teammates. They sat there, both equipping themselves with better-fitting clothing.

Natsu had just been lounging around the guild when the girl walked it. It was clear something was wrong with her; she was bloody and her clothes torn. Natsu quickly jumped into action, moving to go grab the girl before she could fully fall to the floor. "Hey, hey! Stay with me!" Natsu called out, it was clear this girl was in critical danger. "Hey! We need a healer over here, quick!" Natsu called out, concern clearly in his voice. Meanwhile, with Erza and Lucy, they arrived at the room of their friend, Mike. He was a tall man, fit with short brown hair and hazel eyes. He was a mage like them, his specialization was similar to Erza's in that he could summon blades. He was walking around naked in his room, as he often did. His well-toned and fit body clear for the girls to see as they walked in. "Ah, Lucy and Erza. Good to see you two." Mike grinned as he stood before them in all his nude glory. "So....what brings you two here?" He asked, but already having a good idea. They always dropped by whenever they wanted to have some "fun".

Deemed too dangerous to remain in service, the destroyer-class Angeloid 'Phoenix' Type Omega had been scheduled for destruction. He was initially created as a last resort for defense of the Synapse to turn the tables of the great war in their favor. Phoenix ended the war by single-handedly wiping out the enemy with minimal effort, which frightened his creators. They had not intended to create a weapon of such power, and worried that he may eventually cause more harm than good in the long run. Phoenix was lucky enough to have a very wise general as his master, who could not bring himself to go through with his execution. It was a sad day when he made the decision to go against his orders and save Phoenix's life. As the hatch to the escape pod slowly closed, a tear ran down his master's face as he spoke. "Phoenix. I want you to find a new master. Someone who needs you as much as you need them." The angeloid returned his words with only a blank stare, as the hatch closed, and the pod was ejected out into space on a course for Earth. The angeloid's memories were completely wiped, and the vast majority of his combat capabilities locked away. Barely able to stand or speak, he pushed open the door. The poor creature had awoken in a truly strange place, foreign to anything he'd ever known. The sun shined down onto his face for the first time, giving him a warm feeling that did not cause discomfort. Stepping out of the pod, Phoenix analyzed his surroundings. To the north there was the city, which obviously contained a plethora of human activity. There didn't seem to be anything of interest in any other direction, so he began his journey downtown. The breeze blew through his short, dark hair as he walked. The angeloid zipped his white leather suit up and toyed with the broken chain attached to the collar around his neck. As his memories were mostly erased, he knew very little about himself and only retained some basic knowledge about the human race. His main priority was to obtain a new 'master.' Although a master's orders are absolute to an angeloid, whomever took it upon themselves to take him in, would soon realize he is a very independent angeloid that only needed a 'master' because he was programmed to require it for survival. He was fully capable of giving his master tactical advice, and was a highly intelligent being. However, he was still an angeloid, which meant any direct order given by the master must be carried out in full, whether or not it was what they actually wanted. Would he be able to find someone?

The sun was beginning to set over the horizon, beautiful gradient shades of orange, yellow and pink filling the atmosphere that would eventually turn dark for night. There wasn't much commotion happening downtown at this late hour, deeming it a great time to pick up some groceries for home. The breeze was slightly warm yet when inhaled it was cold. The temperature was gradually starting to shift.Azura gently tugged her coat over her shoulders as her body began to shiver. She would make this grocery trip fast before the temperature got too cold. With fingers intertwined with plastic in both hands Azura pranced down the sidewalk as her shoes snapped above the concrete. It was always a feeling of accomplishment when you purchase the objects you want yet your wallet begs to differ. An alleyway came into view as she approached closer to it, noting that it was an easier way to cross the street other than waiting for traffic from her every day trip. It was dark and appeared unoccupied and it was too good of an opportunity to pass up. She hummed a sweet tune in her throat, swaying her hips as her snow white hair danced as she took each step. The rustling of what sounded like cans behind her caught her attention, quick to swivel around to note the disorder. What's a pretty girl like you doing in a dark place like this? A mysterious man stepped from the shadows with a hood concealing his face, his lips and nose were the only feature available to see. Two other men stepped in behind him. He must be the ring leader. Remarkably Azura managed to stay calm and hold her composure, giving a non-threatening grin towards their directions. No need to flatter, but I must head home," she said, lifting her bags to show that she had products. "I don't want to spoil my milk sitting here chatting." She ended the conversation before anyone could object, taking a deep sigh as she turned around to continue her travel. The reverberating sound of feet dragging against the floor hit the brick walls until a hand gripped her right arm. The hairs on her body did handstands, and her head slowly turned around to dreadfully look at the masked men. "Why leaving all of a sudden?" one of them asked. "You look like you need help carrying those. Don't want to hurt those pretty hands of yours; they could be useful in the long run." His friends snickered in the background at his sexual comment. Azura found it harder to keep her composure, a nervous giggle erupting from her rosy pink lips. "Aren't you cute?" she said briefly with a harsh tinge of sarcasm, violently snagging her hand away from the invader. "I said goodbye," she emphasized, attempting to turn back around before the hand gripped her wrist again, this time more grotesquely and convincingly. The man angrily said through clenched teeth, tightening his grip even more to vent a small whimper from the shocked girl. The other two men circled around the opened spots, ensuring that Azura wouldn't walk away anymore. Without warning, the ring leader raised his hand up in the air and slapped Azura across her left cheek with the back of his hand, a cry leaking out only to be covered by one of the men's hands to muffle it. "Be fucking quiet!" he spat at her as he pinched her cheeks harshly, causing them to throb.

Mako was an odd person, no wait, she wasn't human; she was some sort of all-powerful erotic being who wanted some fun. She smiled as she waited in a room that belonged to someone named Issei Hyoudou, a very special boy. Mako smiled as she sat on his bed, naked and waiting patiently. Oh boy, was she going to have some fun with Issei! Some real fun.

Oh man, what a day," Issei said to himself as he arrived home from school. He slowly made his way to his room, figuring he could soothe his troubled soul with some porn. Opening the door, he noticed something different. "Oh, a naked girl sitting on my bed." He first muttered like it was nothing to him... then his eyes widened and he double-checked his bed, letting out a loud gasp. "Who are you? What are you doing in my house?! Why are you naked?" were his questions. Not that I mind. Oh man, look at the boobage. I think those kendo girls may have killed me and I'm in heaven. Issei thought, smiling widely.

The room smelled bad. Aeris wasn't sure she could even really call it a room. There wasn't anything in it, save for the beautiful Cetra girl. Her green eyes swept the room a few times. She'd even spent a few moments walking the width and breadth. Not a whole lot in the way of room, really. Glass walls lined every side, but they were of an odd make: Aeris could just barely see out. Various scientists wandered the room outside, leaving her little doubt as to where she was. Tseng had found her. Had abducted her, or, well, she'd agreed to go along, to protect Cloud and the others. Even now Aeris's mind drifted toward the handsome blonde SOLDIER, remembering another SOLDIER and his touch. They were so similar, Zack and Cloud. Maybe that was why she'd been so eager to take the blonde as her bodyguard. Maybe that's why she'd gotten wrapped up in this. Not that Shinra had been shy about wanting her: Hojo had been after her for years. And now he has me, she thought, gaze sweeping. There were observation platforms around her, some scientists, not a lot, examining various monitors. She could just barely see them: it was almost as if the stink of the room overpowered everything else. What was that odor? It made Aeris lightheaded, almost wanting to nap. Was that the idea? Get her tired for... whatever Hojo had planned? She could remember what he'd said. Gloating over a Cetra. But ah, the last of her kind, just like the other he'd had on hand. They'd rushed through prep, their motions sloppy. Aeris barely knew science, but she'd been able to glean that much. She could tell when men were rushed, hurried. A lifetime in the slums of Midgar had left the young woman quite savvy to certain things. Savvy enough to realize that Hojo had something planned she would not like. The girl rubbed her arm, frowning. She still wore what she'd had on when they'd found her. The red denim jacket had been reinforced. The light pink dress that sheathed most of her, however, was decidedly less so, though still of a durable fabric. The scant cotton pink undergarments below were a degree less of protection, not that she expected it. Her bracers and her rod were her usual defense, along with a high degree of aptitude for materia. But they'd made sure to strip her of that... though not of the bracers. Aeris had studied her wrist, knew there was nothing there to draw from, but she still had to wonder why. The beautiful Cetra only just understood their plans. Lifestream and Ancients, and access to unrestrained Mako energy. Supposedly Hojo had promised a long term plan.Mix the Cetra blood with the other that is last. Their offspring will be long-lived, and tied to the Lifestream, precisely what we need to establish Shinra for years.Aeris didn't believe that bullshit for a moment: Hojo struck her as a pervert, and she was a pawn in whatever they had planned. And she'd had enough: "If you're going to do something, do it!" she yelled, turning, trying to see how they were properly monitoring her. Through the glass? Through cameras? she almost gagged on the thick air. "Whatever you've put in here sure isn't affecting me like you'd hoped," she pointed out. "Unless you're trying to--" she paused. She thought she'd heard something move. Aeris had been unconscious when they'd put her here; she had no way of knowing how they got her here. Was there a hole in the wall... did they drop in from above?Somethingwas moving, and the flower girl was left wondering what.

Finally. Hojo was ecstatic. The Turks finally proved some worth and delivered him the prime test subject. His last of the remaining Cetra bloodline back under his scope, to poke and prod at his leisure. Or rather that'd be the case if the damned thing could live long enough. So the contingency plan. The subject Red XIII would be mated with Pink XIV so that the combined life of both mother and offspring would ensure all testing come to fruition. All that remained to be seen was whether or not the two species were actually compatible in their mating. Hojo was no fool. Biologically, the chance of test subect RXIII and PXIV was slim. In the name of scientific curiosity however, it wouldn't stop the Professor from trying it anyway. "The gas is a go, sir. We're flooding the chamber now." An assistant informed Hojo from his post, scribbling on his charts and monitoring vitals. From heart rate to blood pressure, Shinra's sensors were the best that gil could buy. "Good! Keep me updated. How's XIII?" He snapped, almost with an impatience, then he raised a finger to the brim of his small glasses and adjusted them before putting the hand behind his back with the other, back slightly arched, staring out at the chamber with an intense focus. "He's on edge, as you might expect. The gas should shift his focus to XIV but it's hard to predict how he'll take to the mating process. He will smell her as a potential mate but appearances will confuse his senses. Ideally we'll overwhelm him with enough pheromones that it won't matter. He'll--" "Hojo! I know you laid out this plan," he said, holding up a hand to stop the assistant. "I don't need a step-by-step. If it goes smoothly, he'll see the Cetra as something to mount and push his sperm into. The trouble will be if the drugs in the gas are enough to keep XIV non-combative. He's feisty little thing." Hojo stopped and pressed a button that tapped into an intercom. "Send XIII in!" In the chamber Aeris was held in place by the floor opening up in a small circular shape and a platform was raised. Red XIII was crouched defensively upon this platform. He was muzzled and a low, instinctual growl rumbled from his throat. The room was thick with the gas and it clouded his senses. Overwhelmed them. His vision shifted in and out of focus and clarity faded in and out. Sound dulled and sharpened. Meanwhile, his nostrils were assaulted by a strong odor that began to affect him almost immediately. A sensation he had not felt... ever? In years? It was familiar yet different. A hunger of sorts. He couldn't see beyond the glass walls or whatever material they were made of, but he could hardly even acknowledge that there was a beyond. He didn't like this limitation. This mind alteration. Prior to this, it had been pain and torment, tests and injections, and now this. This, however, was also the most freedom of movement he had been granted since his capture. After a few seconds, the wolf-beast found the origin of a sharp, enticing scent. It was almost intoxicating. It was... pink. This musty allure that begged him closer, begging him to... His hips lifted and the sheath between his legs twitched as thick, reddish cock began to protrude. So much of this screamed danger and yet this strong, underlying and persistent whisper of fuck echoed beneath it. So he padded curiously forward, toward the object of desire. A voice boomed overhead that only sounded muffled to him. It was Hojo, speaking to Aeris. "Don't play too hard to get now, we wouldn't want to do this thehardway. Thepainfulway." His voiced practically slithered into laughter before the intercom cut-out.

The modified blue Renault Alpine A310 darted through the streets of that empty city, going fast beyond safety standards even if the woman on the wheel knew that she wasn't going to find any other car on the road. "Of all days... I should be on the headquarters..." Misato grumbled, speeding even further. It was true that she had offered herself for that mission days ago, hell, she even sent a completely inappropriate picture of herself so the one she was going to pick up knew who to expect. It was that silly part of her that got into that trouble in the first place, but she couldn't help it. Knowing commander Ikari, or at least as much as anyone could know him, he probably had been dry and cryptic in any communication he had with his own son. "What kind of father does that?" Misato sighed, trying to keep her head on the road, unable to keep her mind from drifting away. Sure, her father was no longer with her but... it wasn't like he had pushed her away. Her hand moved from the gear shift to the cross hanging from her neck. It wasn't the time for that, she had to pick Shinji off, return to Nerv and take charge of things. It felt a bit wrong to be eager to go into combat, to want to face such an unimaginable thing, but she had experience disregarding those wrong feelings. She was an adult, and she could do as she pleased. It wasn't exactly revenge for her father, but it was as close as she was going to get anyways. Arriving at the entrance of the train station, Shinji was nowhere to be found. "I seriously hope he's not missing or Ritsuko is going to bite my head off for being tardy..." Misato mumbled. Where the hell was that kid? Getting out of the car, Misato climbed onto the roof of her car, adjusting her black dress as it rode up a bit up her thighs. "Shinji Ikari! I'm here to pick you up! Shiiiinjiiiii!" she shouted at the top of her lungs, looking around from her vantage point, seeking for that damned kid.

Shinji Ikari stood not too far away from the train station, staring out at the vast expanse of the forest that surrounded Tokyo 3. Part of him wondered why he was even here. He had a decent life in the town he used to live in...a relatively lonely and withdrawn one, but not bad none the less. He had gotten that letter from his father, summoning him to NERV. He wanted to just burn that letter and forget it ever happened, and he had been debating whether or not to even make the trip. That was when, a few days later, another letter arrived. Attached was a photo of a rather beautiful woman in a rather scandalous pose with rather flirtatious words written on said picture. He had decided after that picture to go. Part of him knew it was justification....to have some other excuse rather than he was just crawling back to get his father's attention to praise. Still, just looking at the photo...Shinji thought if he got to meet and know such a beautiful woman from going to NERV, that alone would be worth it. That's how he ended up there, looking out at the forest and wondering about his future there...He had waited for Misato at the train station, but she was running late. Thus, his curiosity had led him to the lookout. He tossed his now finished can of coffee in a nearby bin as he heard someone shouting. He noticed a woman standing on top of her car and she appeared to be calling for him...from her appearance, she appeared to be the woman from the picture. He drew in a deep breath and then moved towards the car. "Excuse me....I'm Shinji Ikari!" The young man called back as he approached the car with a wave and a small smile, looking up at Misato standing on her car. She was at just the right angle...and he might be able to catch a glimpse of her panties. He tried not to make his line of sight too obvious as he gave Misato a larger smile. "You must be...Katsuragi-san, yes? It's nice to finally meet you! You are even more beautiful in person than in the picture!" He chuckled softly, rubbing the back of his neck. Shinji had been practicing on his charisma and pickup lines....he wondered if that had worked or if maybe he had just made things very awkward. What if this woman was his superior? That would make it quite strange indeed...then again...she had started it with that picture, so he figured just this much was okay at least.

Cinder smiled as she entered a simple room, not much to it, just a repurposed warehouse for torture. There was a table full of items, a person sitting in a chair, bound and gagged, also blindfolded. She approached the table first.

Phaciathe cat faunus couldn't remember what had happened to her. All she remembered was fighting against this one woman who had fire powers before everything went black. Still, everything remained black as she had a blindfold on. She was also bound to a chair, gagged, and stripped naked. No doubt she was scared. Who had done this to her and what were they going to do with her? She could feel a cold breeze go up against her cock and balls. Phacia was a futa and she was very self-conscious about it. Whatever her kidnapper was planning to do with her package down there.

Witness Disney's first Queer Star Firsthand! That's right, we're streaming this weekend with a 24-hour adult-oriented stream. Watch as one of our up-and-coming starlets goes full lesbian! Disney promises that one of our best and brightest will be queer by the end of the stream, and the choice was up to public vote. The starlet of your choice, from our current roster, will be put through a 24-hour process where she is exposed repeatedly to lesbian situations. She will be kissed! She will be fondled! She will sleep with other women! We have gotten two of the Adult Film Industry's best stars to help usher our little favorite into the new world. Both are skilled at helping girls discover their true sexuality and help embrace their wilder side. They will be taking requests throughout the livestream, but our little starlets fate is ultimately up to them. And by popular vote, you picked SABRINA CARPENTER! Winning a whopping 46% of the popular vote, split amongst five candidates, this cute little blonde rocketed to fame playing Maya Heart on Girl Meets World. We watched our little rebel grow and mature into an impressive talent. Able to perform roles both dramatic and comedic, as well as sing, Sabrina is on the path to stardom. Up until now, Sabrina has claimed to be straight and has gone on record as never having a girlfriend. That hasn't stopped her from giggling alongside her costar or from earning a high fanbase among our queer viewers. Sabrina just turned eighteen the day before our stream begins; we gave her a day to celebrate with her friends and family, but her birthday weekend belongs to her fans! And we can confirm: Sabrina is 100% a virgin! That's right, watch her first time live, on camera! Be there ~~ Dear Shyla, You have no doubt seen the above press release regarding the big event we have planned. As agreed, you will be livestreaming with Sabrina Carpenter (18) throughout the duration of 24 hours. You are instructed to use everything within your power to convert Sabrina. By the time this is done, we expect her to admit to being at least bisexual, ideally an outright lesbian. Should you achieve both a confession willingly given from Sabrina herself and offer proof of her new lesbian/bisexual lifestyle, you will be paid a total of $10,000 for the weekend. In addition, the following bonuses will be applied based on the content of the stream: $100 per outfit change, increases with sexuality of outfits $250 to get Sabrina to admit to having a crush on another woman $250 to get Sabrina to say, in some form or fashion Girls are better at sex than boys $250 to get Sabrina to masturbate herself on camera $500 for the first lesbian kiss $500 for first fingering of Sabrina to orgasm $500 to perform oral on Sabrina first $500 to convince Sabrina to do oral $500 to the recipient of Sabrinas first oral $1,000 paid to get Sabrina to climax on camera, $500 for each subsequent orgasm $1,000 paid to make Sabrina squirt on camera (if Sabrinas first orgasm results in her squirting, a sum of $3,000 will be paid), $250 for each subsequent $1,000 for each fetish Sabrina either admits to or discovers while on camera $2,000 for each lasting change Sabrina undergoes during the livestream $5,000 for Sabrinas first penetration on camera $7,500 for Sabrinas anal virginity $7,500 if Sabrina willingly engages in anal $10,000 if double penetration occurs Remember, the goal is to convert Sabrina into a queer lifestyle. Traumatizing her will result in a negative consequence and subsequent lawsuits. We're quite confident we hired the right women for the job. ~~ Sabrina doublechecked her phone, then the address. They had sent her to one of the Disney owned apartment-esque studios on the edge of the city, far from prying eyes. She had been under direct orders to make sure everyone knew exactly where she was (and to some extent what she was doing). According to Disney, Sabrina had won a recent fan poll asking for a new Disney starlet to do a livestream event for Queer awareness. From what Sabrina had gathered, she hadn't only won, but she had won by a large margin, beating the next closest option by like 20% of the vote. The cute little blonde didn't know how to feel about that. At least Disney was giving her an opportunity, what with her show folding and all. She ran a hand through her golden hair, sighing. It could be worse: she still had a record deal, still had some prospects, and Disney promised that if she went through with this, shed be on the books for at least a movie deal, if not another television show. Didn't make her less nervous, particularly with the orders. Don't dress up for it? she asked as she knocked on the door, double-checking. A pair of loose sweats covered her petite lower half, with a worn t-shirt covering her top. She'd been instructed to bring along materials for makeup and hair, though she'd also been told to arrive already with it styled after a popular shoot. Supposedly they'd have outfits on site for her? Sabrina had also been told shed meet her costars soon enough. She also had all the required materials on her: her driver's license, a record from her doctor proving her to not only be clean, but also a virgin, and some stuff for an overnight bag. Weird combo, and Sabrina was starting to suspect something sneaky, but, well She shrugged. Not like she had a choice. Her parents had signed the contract, seemingly not realizing that it would affect Sabrina the moment she turned eighteen. She'd barely celebrated before finding out her birthday weekend had been planned for her already. She was just updating her presence on her phone, double-checking and signing in to a few apps, when the door opened. Hey, she said, raising a hand and waving, "I guess the star is here or something?" she let out a wry laugh, fighting the urge to roll her eyes.

Shyla Jennings studied herself critically in the floor-length mirror one last time. The petite, brunette porn star was dressed casually in a simple white tank top and a worn pair of jeans. It was the kind of not particularly revealing, everyday outfit that you wouldn't glance twice at on a regular girl. Shyla had picked the pieces carefully, however, and the thin shirt shamelessly highlighted her bra-less, but still perky, B cup breasts while the impossibly tight jeans wrapped the curves of her ass and legs like a pair of denim leggings. Instead of hiding, the clothes accentuated her tempting body and made it so you couldn't help but imagine what lay beneath. A decorative pair of black heels raised Shyla's 5'2 frame up a couple inches and served as a sexy exclamation point to the casual outfit. It was a classic demure-yet-dirty look for Shyla, known for her "too cute for porn" face that similarly hid a filthy and depraved mind that had won her two AVN Lesbian Performer of the Year awards. "That's the one! In fact, you look so delicious I may have to strip you back down before she gets here!" purred Megan Carter, the tall blonde who had been unabashedly watching Shyla try on outfits for the last half hour.Megan was the Disney exec that had hired Shyla and set up this unique and potentially lucrative opportunity. And what an opportunity it was! Shyla still couldn't believe this was happening, let alone that she was getting paid for this "work". When she'd first received the email she had assumed it was a prank, but Megan's call later that day had made her want to pinch herself to make sure it wasn't a dream instead! Megan had explained that Disney needed a gay star for marketing purposes and that the young Sabrina Carpenter had been overwhelmingly picked as the fan favorite to fill the role. The only problem, of course, was that Sabrina wasn't gay... yet. A big company like Disney gets what it wants and that is where Shyla came into the picture. Based on her impeccable girl-on-girl credentials in the adult film sector, Megan had championed Shyla internally at Disney to be the sexual preference conversion consultant they should hire to get Sabrina prepped for her new brand image. In other words, Shyla was getting paid to turn Sabrina into a pussy devouring lesbian slut. "I'm not getting paid to fuck you, Megan," Shyla said with a wink at Megan through the mirror. With a satisfied nod, the brunette spun and flashed Megan one of her brilliant smiles as she struck a mocking model pose with one hand on her cocked hip. "But don't worry, instead of my videos you'll have plenty of real memories for finger-fucking material to get yourself off with when I'm through with her. Who knows, if you are a good girl I may even need your hands on help today..." Megan had made it clear that her "researching" Shyla's credentials had really meant she was an avid fan that frequently masturbated to Shyla's videos. The older woman had barely been able to keep her hands off Shyla as she'd helped the porn starlet pick an appropriate outfit. Shyla had in turn been exceptionally cruel by teasing Megan with her almost naked body while trying on different clothing. Truth be told, the Disney exec was a striking woman and getting her involved and undressed was definitely something Shyla was hoping to orchestrate. Megan was 5'8" tall, blonde haired and blue eyed, and had a slender frame that still managed to carry what appeared to be impressive C cup breasts. Wearing a long, sleeveless and halter top dress that hugged her curves, she was definitely more dressed up than Shyla and had spent extra time on her hair and makeup in what was no doubt an effort to impress her favorite porn star. "Of...of course, I didn't mean I expected you to... but if you need my help I'd love to... and yes, Sabrina is the priority for me as well," Megan stammered, flushing slightly in a mix of enthusiasm and embarrassment as she tried to gauge if Shyla was teasing her or serious in her invitation to help. Just then, there was a timid knock at the door that caused both women to grin eagerly at each other. Shyla motioned Megan to follow her and opened the front door with one of her trademark smiles as she turned on all her ample charm and cuteness. "Oh my god, Sabrina fucking Carpenter!" Shyla exclaimed, her voice pitching high in excitement. It was always better to play to the celebrity's ego and appearing to be another awestruck fan, which in this case Shyla truly was, was a role designed to make Sabrina feel comfortable. Based what Megan had shared, Sabrina had no idea what was in store for her today, but had some inkling that this livestream "interview" might be a bit salacious and was likely nervous. "I'm Shyla Jennings and I am aHUGEfan... and by the way, Happy BIRTHDAY!" Shyla continued, still all smiles as she reached out to give the petite singer a warm hug before inviting her inside. In person, Sabrina was even smaller than Shyla had imagined and she found herself in the rare situation of staring down at the 5' tall singer. The girl's hair and makeup were already done, and her face was as elfin and cute in person as it appeared on TV, but from the neck down Sabrina had arrived dressed super casually. As Megan stepped forward to greet Sabrina, Shyla let her eyes wander down the girl's body in a frustrated effort to get an inkling of the starlet's curves through the baggy t-shirt and sweat pants. Despite being petite, it did look like Sabrina had a nice bubble butt and Shyla wet her lips as she trying to size it up. Oops, did Sabrina just catch her staring at her ass? "Well thanks SOOO much for agreeing to be on my show," Shyla said, reaching out to grab one of Sabrina's hands with both of hers. Leading the girl, she walked through the large, studio style apartment towards the clothes racks in the back corner. The one main room had a large sectional couch at one end with a camera mounted on a tripod before it, while the other end had a plush King sized bed. "It's called Celebrity Jack and Jill we are a very pro-LGBTQ+ program that I've been doing for a year now. I've had a number of celebrity guests, but honestly, I think our program today is going to be best one yet. We are going to have SOOO much fun!" Shyla motioned towards the clothing rack which had a huge array of outfits, all supposedly sized for Sabrina's measurements already, ranging from full dresses, to tube tops, blouses, mini skirts, bikinis, leather pants, and even lingerie. "One fun part of my show is we get to do a lot of outfit changes! Now, let's get something for you to slip into for the first segment, which is going to be the interview... nothing too crazy, maybe a cute little sun dress or something casual? What do you prefer Sabrina?

She looked out the window, staring at the men that were leaving in the sports cars. All three peeled out of the long driveway, and down the road that headed into town. Elle sighed, sitting on the little stool. She could catch her breath with them gone. She hoped they would be gone for hours, but she had no idea how long they would be away. Elle had been happy when her mother had brought home her new stepfather and her two new stepbrothers, who were only three and four years older than her. At 10, they seemed older and wiser and exotic. Now, at 17, without the protection of her mother, she could tell you just how horrible they were. It had started with one of her brothers pinning her down in the months after her mother had died and tickling her, and then had escalated from there. Elle now was glad for the moments that they were away, it meant she was thankfully completely alone. She walked over to her bed and put her dress back on, moving her arms to zip her dress made her wince. She had been hung up too long. Her shoulders ached, her wrists hurt, even her toes hurt. She sighed, slipping from her room and down to the kitchen to get herself something to eat, who knows when it would happen again. She curled up in the chair and ate her English muffin and sighed.

The Tremaine brothers didn't return home until 10 o'clock at night - announced by the front door swinging open with a loud BANG. It was universally acknowledged that the Tremaine brothers - 21 year-old Kyle and the younger Derek - are handsome hunks. But these two are far more notorious for their vile minds and black hearts. Blame their privileged upbringing and zero accountability. Since they were kids, they had repeatedly gotten into trouble, but Mr. Tremaine would often dismiss complaints against them with a wave of his hand, and his favorite phrase - "Boys will be boys." These days, they have both flunked out of college - Kyle is a self-titled 'entrepreneur', but in truth is a conman in training. Derek spends his days getting drunk or high with his friends. As they were prone to do, the brothers had returned home intoxicated with alcohol. Derek was in a particularly foul mood - tonight all his romantic advances at the dive bar were roundly rebuffed. "I'm starving," slurred Derek to no one in particular. "Shit," he suddenly mused, "did we let Elle down?" But he said that with no concern in his voice. Poor Elle was often the outlet of the brothers' sadistic vices. All these years they treated their younger stepsister with such cruelty. It used to be the standard bullying and pranking ("dad started it by treating her like a servant"). But this morning, it had finally gotten kind of... inappropriate. It was Kyle's idea: they took her from her attic room, stripped her down to her underwear, and strung the scrawny girl up on Derek's monkey bar. The hapless girl's body was all stretched out... half-naked in her sheer bra and panties, toes barely touching the floor. When Derek began to slap the back of her thighs with a ruler Kyle found himself hard, and bestial thoughts had crossed his depraved mind... "Let's find out!" said Kyle. He bellowed so his deep voice would reach upstairs. "Hey 'lil sis. We're back! Where you at?" "And we're starving!" added Derek. "Come on down and run along to the kitchen to fix us something!

Brezziana was trying her best to school her facial expression and not bounce on her heels as she waited in line with the rest of the Handlers. Today was the day that the Hunter's Guild would promote prospective apprentices to the status of Hunter. Oh I hope The Guild matched me with someone friendly...Most of the prospective Hunters that she could see were about her age: in their late teens or early 20s. About half of them were striking serious poses while the other half looked like her: barely able to contain their excitement. There were a few hardened looking older Hunters in the mix, people who had either failed their training ten years ago when the 4th Fleet had been sent out or people who had barely missed the age cut off and had been forced to wait another 10 years before enlisting. Honestly she didn't care one way or another how old or what gender her Hunter was...so long as they were friendly. The young Handler had quite a legacy to live up to...while her grandfather wasn't well known, the Hunter that he had taken care of was quite famous, known simply as: The Huntsman.How on earth did grandpa get along with -The- Huntsman?Stories that came back from across the sea about The Huntsman who still was fighting beasts in the New World told of a grumpy old man set in his ways. A man who had fought a Teostraand lived to tell of it but still a grumpy, stoic man none the less. Her grandfather on the other hand was much like her: easily excitable (when it came to anything Monster or New World related), friendly, and curious.Maybe there is something to be said for a balance in personalities... Brezzi was perfectly content to not be an actual Hunter, standing up there near the podium with a full set of ceremonial hunting armor on and baking in the mid-day sun. Hunting itself seemed like a messy, sweaty ordeal of traipsing through the forests after creatures that could probably swallow you in one bite or maim you in some way (she had studied 144 ways of being maimed by the 48 reported types of monsters that they would be researching/controlling the population of). Slaying giant monsters in order to control their populations so that the human and wyrverian races weren't destroyed by rampaging beasts that didn't know the difference between a biped and a tasty snack? No thank you. Compiling information for a Hunter, organizing paperwork and permits (because you couldn't just go about killing the same monster again and again, then you would be little better than a poacher!), and getting to watch the Elder Dragon migration from a safe distance away was better suited to her curious and organized nature. While her family had dreams of her guiding the next legendary Huntsman, Brezzi would be content just to see the world that her grandfather had woven so many stories about.

Teyla stood with the other graduating Hunters near the podium, only half-listening to the speech being made about how big an honor it was and how their future journey, blah blah blah. She was focusing a majority of her attention on the Handlers watching them from below. Her eyes roamed across them as if trying to decide which one she most wanted as her partner. A lecherous smile crossed her lips when she happened across an attractive one, her thoughts wandering for a brief moment before moving down the line. She was excited, for mostly the wrong reasons. She was excited about other things as well, like becoming a Hunter and finally going to the New World, but she had been excited about normal things for months or years. She was focused on her latest obsession. It was to the point that when it was her turn to receive her status she didn't hear the instructor call her name. "Teyla Rhinhalt!" The increase in volume and irritated tone snapped the latest Hunter out of her fantasies. She took it in stride, laughing out loud as she walked up to the podium to make it official. It wasn't all that special, the moment itself had nothing of note, but what it meant sent an exhilarating jolt up her spine. From the moment she stepped forward and received her acknowledgement, she was a true Hunter! Teyla was 22 and tall even by Hunter standards. Not compared to men perhaps but she stood a daunting 5'9" with a body sculpted by exercise and the repeated drawing of her bow. Her skin was kissed by the sun's rays and her black hair was braided neatly on one side. Her eyes stood out most of all though, a bright green that shimmered with energy and excitement enough to offset her rather intimidating appearance. Though, it was already rather undermined by the ceremonial armor keeping her in a near constant state of discomfort. "Thanks!" She grinned as she took a step to the side, joining the rest of those who had already been made Hunters. Oddly enough nobody seemed to mind her attitude towards the entire thing. Teyla was known for being troublesome and her disregard for the ceremony of it all was the least of their worries. That and the fact that she was considered one of the most promising Hunters to be heading out in the 5th fleet. In order for someone like her to make it through she had to be special, or so everyone said. It wasn't as if she would be the first Hunter with a quirky personality, just about everyone crazy enough to dedicate their life fighting monsters was bound to have a peculiarity or two keeping them going. Her oddities were just more obvious. The ceremony went on, each and every hunter stepping forward and being inducted into the ranks of Hunters. It was a joyous occasion and by the end the crowd had grown tired from clapping and cheering for the latest batch destined for the New World. There was only one step left before they could depart into the New World, pairing. The Hunter was nothing alone. Their education included combat and survival, and while many had some understanding of the beasts they hunted and the world they were being told to survive in, there were few that could claim to be experts. Honing one's skills to fight monsters was already an incredible task, they needed a partner to share the burden, to be truly capable Monster Hunters. That partner came in the form of a Handler. Without a Handler even the most powerful Hunter would find life difficult. The Hunter's Guild knew this and saved the most important part of all for the very end. When the ceremony was complete the man on the podium started his next speech, and Teyla barely contained her boredom. It wasn't until he started calling out names that light returned to her eyes. One by one the pairings were declared. Unlike the other Hunters who hoped for a skilled Handler, Teyla just hoped for a cute one. "Teyla Rhinhalt and Brezziana Yoshimasha." The instructor didn't stop after their name, he continued on as normal, but he was the only one. Brezziana Yoshimashi was a name everyone knew. The granddaughter of The Huntsman's Handler, a legend. Many of the Hunters had wanted her as their own Handler, believing their odds at becoming legends themselves would rise with the assistance of HIS granddaughter. Even Teyla was pleased, but not entirely because of her pedigree, but because she was absolutely adorable. Her eyes brightened as she looked across the way at the smaller woman, an almost predatory grin making its way onto her features. Now she really couldn't wait for the ceremony to be over.

How long had it been since she had walked away from Arkadia? Clarke Griffin would be lying if she tried to say she didn't know the exact amount of time - fifty-eight days, and counting. One came after another, and with every day that passed, the blonde grew more accustomed to the wilderness. Those "Earth Skills" classes were working a miracle - and in the loneliness she thrived. Or, more like it, in the loneliness she knew that another betrayal would never fall upon her, and that she would never have to face those who she had inadvertently hurt. Nearly two months ago, she had to make the call to irradiate Mount Weather, costing hundreds their lives, and there was no moment that didn't haunt her. In her sleep, when she was awake. She was a murderer, whether she did it for her people or not. Because of that, she could not face those people. How could she face those who lived while the dead still haunted her? For the fifty-eighth day in a row, the blonde found shelter. Tonight, she hunkered down in an old metal bunker, grown over with ivy and foliage. It wasn't the warmest, but she had a fur blanket to wrap herself up with, and there was food - a rabbit that she had caught earlier in the day. As the sun set in the distance, dappling oranges and purples between the rapidly falling tree line, she set a fire. Then, for the first moment that day, she lowered her guard and warmed her hands over the small burning bundle.

Rylen was always watching but never watched, assigned by the Heda herself to keep his watchful eyes on one rogue "Clarke Griffin" - or, as those in his village and many others called her after the destruction of all those living within Mount Weather, "Wanheda". It translated to "commander of death", a name born to the woman who's destruction struck the hearts of all. Many would kill to have her, and many would kill her. The Commander herself, it seemed, wished for her to be alive and well. The adult male didn't question his Heda's orders and simply followed them. The goal was simple: keep the Wanheda safe, and once possible bring her to Polis. Sometimes he lost her - not often though, and never for long. Tonight he watched from afar, waiting for the right chance to strike. Rylen had been given orders to try and return Wanheda to Polis, lest Azgeda get their hands on her. Clarke would stand no chance against an army and reports had come that Azgeda's soldiers were making a mount on Polis. The woman would fight, that he had little doubt of, but his pure muscle outweighed her and he stood a chance. Clarke looked almost peaceful, though he knew from the nights he had watched her that no peace befell her. As she sat by the fire he crept in towards her and, as the fire crackled and snapped, he lunged forward to push her down to the ground and pull her arms behind her back. If he could pin her, he would bind her hands with rope.

Amazing how quickly life as you know it can change and any sense of peace forever tarnished. Hard to believe just a week prior, Kana Watori's greatest problems revolved around studying for upcoming exams and graduating high school on time. Seven days ago, she was nothing but a simple senior with average grades and ordinary daily stress that typical teenagers faced. Extraordinarily normal, she got along just fine with her fellow peers and teachers. Her relationship with her parents was healthy and on good terms, sitting down every night to share a meal together. Of course, her mother's choice of career was anything but "common" practice, often seen as meant only for the mad and hopeless. The eighteen-year-old never once cared to consider what went through her mother's head as she risked her life time and time again, for the sake of protecting humans or so they were led to believe. Humans versus Ghouls: a bloody never-ending war with an equally unclear start. Much like your everyday teenager Kana, despite her own personal ties to "Ghoul hunters," lacked the capacity to express empathy for really either side. Looking out for herself if the subject didn't directly personally have anything to do with her then it mattered nothing in her opinion. Strange point of view, given her family's extensively long history associated with ghouls. She was blessed and cursed with her upbringing, sheltered from the true horrors of the world. Not just concerning supernatural creatures but humans too. Granted the choice of free thought and speech, allowed the chance to study and develop her own opinion early on. Opinions often "frowned upon" to voice out loud, and so she didn't. Never one for confrontation Kana tended to keep to herself, simply getting by. She avoided putting effort into anything that wasn't absolutely necessary, including establishing bonds with really anyone. Mainly knowing the unlikelihood she would be sticking around long enough to develop any meaningful relationships worth keeping. Calling herself a loner wouldn't be too far from the truth, however she maintained an overall polite attitude to the public eye. Often students from her class would seek her help over the most mundane tasks, and she would willingly agree, giving the false impression that she was far more kind than she truly was. Sure, there were individuals she would spend her lunch breaks with, maybe even hangout after school too but they meant absolutely nothing to her. Considering them as just means of wasting some time, simple as that, nothing more to it really. Truthfully, it was all such a bothersome bore to her, following a basic routine she had created as a young child. Oh how she wished she could go back to such tranquil times. Covered head to toe in blood, both fresh and old, a teenager ran through the back alleys of Tokyo, Japan. Barefoot, looking more than a little worse for wear in nothing but a paper-thin flimsy, tattered faded turquoise hospital gown and equally dirtied cotton black underwear. Long, messy caramel locks whipped around the girl, a layer of sweat making the hair uncomfortably stick to the back of her neck. Labored short pants slipped past her open chapped lips, eyes wide, frantically shifting every way as she pushed her already exhausted legs to move faster. Stumbling to a stop only when she turned a corner too quick and tripped over some trash on the filthy streets of what she could only assume and hope to be part of downtown Tokyo. Clearly, she was hopelessly lost, her only "destination" in mind being as far away from her original starting point as possible. With a sharp gasp of surprise, she fell face first flat on the ground, grunting upon impact, failing to soften the blow when instinctively throwing her hands in front of her. "Have... to keep... moving..." The girl wheezed, her arms and legs visibly trembling with strain as she attempted to push herself up. How the hell did she end up here? In her mind's eye, she recalled the day everything changed; the day her parents were murdered by rogue Ghouls. Kana Watori had just arrived home from her new school in Tokyo, having recently transferred from Kanto. Supposedly this would be her family's final move, so her folks claimed, but she rightfully was skeptical. It certainly was a nice change of pace, being greeted by both her mother and father, still finding it hard to believe the once notorious Ghoul investigator had actually chosen early retirement. A change the moody teenager was happy to adjust to getting used to. Still following routine, Kana made her way to her room to work on school assignments, only stopping when dinner was called. Each member of the family swapped stories of their own day, enjoying a peaceful night in each other's company. Alas, it wasn't meant to last long... Just as Kana was helping her mother with the dishes, her father being the cook of the household, unexpected visitors rang at their door. Naturally, the man of the house answered, a friendly "can I help you" were the last words Takashi Ootori would utter. The thump of his body hitting the ground at full force was enough to fill her mother with dread, instantly on high alert, but it hardly mattered much in the end. From there, Kana's memories start to blur, for the sake of maintaining some sanity. Vaguely, she could recall her mother telling her to run, just before she too like her husband was fatally impaled from the front by a Ghoul's Kagune. Considered frail in comparison, her body might as well have been a rag doll in the superior race's hands. Shell-shocked, standing in the kitchen, Kana bore witness to the agonizingly slow painful deaths of her parents. The Ghouls that broke into their home seeking vengeance on the famous Watori investigator took their time ending their lives, purposely prolonging their deaths, letting them suffer for what Kana was sure to be at least a couple of hours. They didn't so much as touch her though, not yet, not until the light in both her parents' eyes were fading did they make their move. She hadn't heard what one of them whispered to her parents, but seeing the way absolute terror appeared on both their faces, she knew her future was bleak, her fate sealed. Likely shutting down from shock, the nameless Ghouls had no problem whatsoever taking Kana away, though they had covered her head with a bag of some sort. Possibly to avoid her figuring out where exactly they were headed. From there, her body was all but utterly destroyed, days on end she was tortured close to the brink of death as these men in all white experimented on her young body. Just barely, they kept her alive, determined to succeed, in what? As if she could understand, she didn't exactly try to ask questions. Honestly, she couldn't tell you how she survived. She certainly lost her will to live long before the "process" had even started. That changed when one day she woke up, still strapped down to a cold metal table covered in her dried-up blood. She felt... perfectly okay? Odd, last thing she could remember was passing out after another "session" with the "doctors". Faintly, she could hear an excited murmur around her, whispers of "success" passed around. Success...? With a careful shift, she realized aside from the stiffness of laying down for several hours on a metal table, she felt no pain whatsoever. How could that be...? Just the previous night, she was wailing as her bones were broken and her skin cut wide open, exposing her internal organs. Yet here she was, entirely healed, in fact... She felt better than ever. Testing the leather straps that held her down, Kana decided right then and there it was time to leave. Goal in mind with newfound strength, she broke free, snapping the bindings with ease. In a stumble, she jumped off the table, footing unbalanced but she couldn't be stopped from there on out. Naturally, she was faced by several who stood in her way to freedom, but something awakened inside her, taking over her body in that moment. The closest she could think to describe it was pure molten rage, instinctively moving her in fluid and violent motions. Taking down any and all who dared to oppose her. All she could truly focus on was breaking out of her prison, and when she succeeded, she didn't think to chance a look back. Thus, how she found herself curled up with her back against a wall, trying to make herself smaller than she already was in hopes of avoiding attracting any attention. It wasn't hard to realize she, Kana Watori, once a human, had successfully been turned into a Ghoul, or half of one at least... If that... thing... that sprouted out of her back and aided in her escape wasn't proof enough, the sudden salivating of her dry mouth when passing a group of children playing in the streets confirmed it. Anxiously, she tugged at her hair, clumps of dry blood matted the once lush tresses. Breathing heavily through flared nostrils, shaking where she sat as she gnawed at her bottom lip. "What do I do now...?" The question lingered in the smog-contaminated air, voice quivering and hoarse from hours on end of abuse, screaming until she couldn't bear it a second longer. Where was she to go? She was all alone now, the only family she had dead and maybe even still rotting away on the living room blood-soaked carpet. Kana hadn't the faintest clue how to survive, as a Ghoul.

For some, lying in bed would be the easiest part of their morning. The comfort and warmth would grow difficult to resist as it was common to just roll back over and fall back to sleep. Forget work, the kids, eating, friends. There's always tomorrow! This wasn't the reality to be experienced by one particular ghoul in Tokyo. Pale arms crossed over a fit young man's chest, ash-like hair fell over his tightly shut eyes as his breaths grew deep and ragged. The pain was unlike anything he'd experienced in battle before. The best way to describe it would go along the lines of a thousand little hands peeling his throbbing body into a million parts and then building him back up like a pile of meat with paper skin. Though his resistance to this agony was lowest in the morning, he wouldn't scream or sob. If he were to awaken the feeble humans who also live in this apartment building, he'd be kicked out onto the street. This pain won't stop haunting his body until he claims a mouthful of juicy, chewy human. Or maybe two. But once the dam breaks... Sitting up, his monstrous eyes darted about the dark room. His instincts were firing, his heart racing. If there had been another waiting for him to wake up, he probably would have been on the offensive almost instantly. There were a number of reasons an enemy would happen to be in his room at any given time, though they'd have to figure out where he was first. His crazy fanatic family was very likely to seek him out and make his life hell until he returns home. The ghoul investigators would attempt to purge him the moment they caught his foul scent. Even the current group he's working for could lose their faith in him and send a well-fed ghoul assassin his way to "clean up" this loose end. He's even heard of human groups trying to purge a ghoul they happen upon by lighting them on fire in their sleep. Ghouls aren't Vampires. Of course, these uneducated guess-work attempts at killing ghouls without the proper weaponry failed. Not that this particular ghoul had any empathy to give to his fellow ghouls who lost their lives fighting each other or the investigators. They were foolish, and so was he. The sunlight finally peered over the neighboring building to brighten his bedroom. It wasn't a large room, but it did look both clean and inviting. His bed was wrapped in grey blankets and white sheets with black pillows at the top. The most notable detail of the bed was how it was barely a foot off the ground. An almost orange gloss wooden floor expanded a few feet to the wall on each side of the bed and it was about five feet from the door while the head of the bed rest against a wall. To his ashy-haired male's right, the window ushered in a poor angle of the flashy Tokyo city. On his left, the closet containing his clothes and marble topped bench holding his coffee pot decorated the wall. The timer set on his coffee pot was set for midnight, the glass of the pot revealed twelve cups of dark liquid goodness. A single red light on the side of the pot was the only way to tell if it had remained on all this time, keeping the coffee hot. This wouldn't be cafe-quality coffee, but it was hard for him to afford a great cup and he didn't enjoy the social scene that Tokyo provided. Not to mention all the negative events that could occur if someone recognized him. To this thought, he was reminded of his phone. Though he was sleeping naked, he didn't even feel it through the sweat that accumulated even through the heat pump that conditioned the air to a nice low temp. In his hands, the phone wouldn't seem to be all that much bigger than the average Android high-end device. However, it was actually almost a mini-tablet. The thick black case covering the back didn't help its profile become anymore sleek either. Of course, if the screen protector wasn't both expensive and meshed into the case to make the phone almost submerged-in-saltwater-proof, then he would have ruined the thing long ago. His thumb ran along the screen as the sound of a lock clicking open was played. He wouldn't open his favorite game or check the website he got all of his requests from until he could snag a cup of coffee too drink. For most, standing naked in a room was embarrassing, even in their own house. This ghoul lacked that feeling as he climbed to his feet with his phone and his manhood freely dangled about, the coolness of the room multiplied by the moisture across his bare form. He'd have to take a shower. Of course, he couldn't snag a big brown coffee mug and pour the liquid caffeine transfer method of choice before he'd receive a text. This was strange, and made him pause even as he had the brown cup inches off the hanger that was its home. Setting the cup down upside down, he'd turn away and read the text message. "Jackal?" It read, but as soon as he read that line another one followed. "No, Ishine. Ishine Fudo?" This part would make him sigh as this stranger not only had his number, but knew both his old alias and full legal name. This wasn't a calming thought. Either he responded now to try and figure who this was, while simultaneously confirming they knew who he was. Or, he could ignore it. Neither were great options. Clearly this person wasn't a friend, they'd know he prefers Shin as a nickname and that there were a few more official ways of contacting him that would make identifying this other person wa whole lot easier. As it stands now, either his number was figured out by an invesigator, a ghoul, or a very curious human. Again, none of the above were relaxing ideas. Turning back to the coffee maker, he flipped the brown mug onto its bottom and quickly filled it up a good respectable way. A small white pouch sat near the coffee maker. The strong stench of iron flowed from this pouch, and it as accompanied by a meaty taste in the air that any other ghoul would pick up in a heartbeat. Breaking his eyes away from the pouch, Shin would pick up his cup and leave the room. In a matter of almost no time at all, the clean and handsome male was wearing his preferred outfit. Ash hair flowed down to his shoulders as he wore a white t-shirt and black jacket. The top of the jacket had fluffy black featherlike decoration around his collar and in its hoodie which would rest at his back. Almost like clown pants, he wore these black and red checkered shorts, the design of which slanted so the squares would appear like diamonds. On his feet, to match his big hands would be a large pair of read sneakers, further adding to his almost clown-like appearance. In truth, Shin just liked the colors and the way they clothes fit. His belt had a skull buckle and what would be visible of his legs beneath his knees were covered by black satin socks. He was almost ready to do his ritualistic remedy that would make his eyes behave themselves normally when he caught the sound of someone in trouble. Of course it would be very human to rush to their rescue or call an emergency number. Instead, Shin made his way to a window and tried his best to scan the area from the main room of his apartment. Although running right outside like this was a huge risk, Shin was gradually growing more empathetic on his diet. In almost no time at all, Shin's window was open and he fell to the alley over ten feet below. Vanishing at top speed, he kept to the shadows between buildings on his way towards the smell and sounds that attracted him so. In truth, his mind was dancing between hero mode and disgusting binge eater mode. If this was a human fleeing the police who was shot up for being aggressive, why couldn't he pop some fingers into their skin and carve out a meal for himself? No. Shin had to fight that feeling. In his rush, and the foggy mind state that a starved ghoul just can't escape, Shin forgot his quinque steel Machete in the apartment. Without it, his ability to use his Kagune in this starved state would make him a sitting duck versus strong opponents. Luckily, he'd have just enough strength to be a threat if his opponent was young, human and completely inexperienced. The scent would capture him as he grew within a short distance of the source. In a blink, he'd be standing before her. A woman covered in blood with a singular ghoulish eye. "A one-eyed ghoul?" He'd whisper into the wind as if he wasn't even talking to her, though he was sure she'd hear it. His red and black eyes ran down her body before focusing back on her blue human eye. What was going on here? "What's wrong?" He'd finally ask her, tilting his head, almost in awe. "Not having a good time?" He'd muse before quickly finding his frown. "No, of course not. Is all of that blood your own?" He'd sound worried, almost like a father figure- But, not quite. He couldn't pull an authority role off well enough in his incredibly fuckable form he'd have now. With age, he'd grow to be a respectable manly man. Getting to his knees and crawling toward her such that his face would be near her own, he'd eye her over again. "I'm not here to hurt you, don't fight me." This time, his voice was very different, almost a low growl. As if he were a grown manly dog and she was just a pup. The tone insisted that she not flash her fangs or go for a bite. He slowly looked around her head without touching her. "You weren't in a fight at all. Someone did this to you, I can tell." He whispered before pulling back and standing up. "Out of breath, ragged and torn. Clearly not the clothing you would have chosen to wear, most respectable young women don't particularly enjoy putting their black cotton panties on display." He'd mumble this almost as if he were sherlock and she was a body the local police discovered. Embarrassing details and clues rattled off so matter-of-factly. "Alright. I get it. But, if ghouls are after you... or investigators, I can't be of much help out here in the open.

As the boys assembly ended, the guys exit the Auditorium, standing at the stage was a woman they had never seen before. A tall dark-skinned beauty with blue eyes, white hair, and a curvaceous eye-catching figure, she is dressed in a full-figured dress that is blue in color and made of a rather sequin material. Her skin is like smooth milk chocolate, she stands at about 6' with heels giving her an extra two inches. Her posture is perfect. Her breasts are about a G-cup in size, and her dress hugs them making them much more noticeable, as she stands there several other women stand there also: Winter Schnee, Glynda Goodwitch, Cinder Falls, Emerald, and Kali Belladonna. The girls were led into the room by a nameless staff member of the school. The room has an air to it, like it is inviting, and mind-numbing. The questions of what was going on slowly drift away from the thoughts of the young women who entered. The semblance is sure to be working. The girls' minds are being overwritten with the idea that this school is not for learning to become huntresses but to become the most elite adult stars. As the girls of Beacon enter into the hall, they are made to sit with their teams save for those who did not have full teams. The members of Team JNPR and RWBY sat beside each other while next to them were the two female members of team CFVY. As the auditorium filled with fine young women, the woman faced the microphone on the podium, her throat clearing heard, as she picks up the microphone to begin to speak. "Good morning ladies," she says in a sultry voice, "I am Diamond Rouge, and today I will be introducing myself to you today, as your new Headmistress." As she stands up there, she walks back and forth looking at the beautiful prospects gathered, nodding her head, the other women on stage stay silent as she works. "Today we will be pushing the curriculum of this school truly towards new heights. Today, as of this moment, the School of Beacon is being turned from a school for hunters and huntresses to one made fully for the training of the next adult stars of Remnant." As Diamond walked her breasts bounce, her skirt tail did as well, her hips rocking hypnotically. The women on stage were still watching quietly. "I am sure you all are very happy to know we have lined up new classes for all of you, but first why don't we go along the rows, and introduce ourselves and our experiences with sex, and what we hope to truly aspire to be in the world out there." Again as she walks her hips bounce and sway seductively.

It was the girls' turn for their assembly. Ruby Rose, Yang Xiao Long, Weiss Schnee, and Blake Belladonna walked among crowds of other women from all around the school. The large crowds flooded into the auditorium, all the girls in the school, and they slowly organized in their seats with their teams naturally. It didn't really feel different walking into this room where a new figure stood at the podium. In fact things felt clearer than ever for all of the girls, they knew what they were doing and why, what their school was about. "Hunters and Huntresses," the fancy term always used for just what they did here at this school. Most of the women looked around at the notion, Team RWBY mumbling amongst themselves. "What's this all about?" Blake was the first to ask. "Just some pep thing I think, get us talked up for class?" Yang shrugged it off. "Yeah... I think they just made some scheduling changes" Ruby answered. "Shhhhhh" Weiss hushed the other three as she tried to listen. Indeed, they knew why they were here of course. This school was the most prestigious adult star training academy in the world, and the 'Hunters and Huntresses' trained here always came to be the greatest pleasure recepticals out there, saving the world from urges and the need to get off. Why else would all these young teenagers be gathered? Of course they were there to learn to fuck with the best and relieve the world of it's stress. This was nothing new to anyone in this room. The headmistress began to call the girls up, each reintroducing themselves to their classmates and telling the tales of their adventures until now. Weiss Schnee was the first called to the podium. The petite, thin, pale ivory skinned beauty strode to the stage, the epitome of poise and grace. Stern blue eyes scanned over the crowd. "I am Weiss Schnee of the Schnee Dust Company," she introduced, her voice as cold and poised as her expression. "I have the most prestigious pussy in Atlas, there is not one part of me unable to please a cock or pussy, and it is my hope to carry on the Schnee name as the greatest adult stars in the world." She explained promptly and confidently. This was how it had always been, of course - why else would she have come to this school? Everyone else seemed to understand her presentation perfectly too. "Blake Belladonna," the soft-spoken Faunus told the audience. "I have fucked and been fucked many times in my life, and it is my hope to make the world a better, more cum-soaked place for everyone. If we can all learn to cum with one another, we can get along much easier." She presented lightly, even if she could have gone on politically for a while. "Heyyyy ladies, Yang here!" The blonde bombshell of the school spoke loudly. Yang Xiao Long was a rosy-cheeked curvy young teen with a blessed bust and fiery personality. "I want to be a Huntress and solve the frustrations of the world," she said happily and proudly. "Most of you know me, so I'll keep it short: I'm always ready to take or give a good fucking! My experiences? Well, since I could, I've been into as much fucking as possible." She grinned. When it was Ruby's turn, the pale, scrawny thing approached the stage nervously. She had short dark hair that faded to red, and bright big silver eyes. She was easily the youngest at the school having been accepted early at the age of fifteen due to her determination and skill, as far as she knew. "I'm Ruby Rose," she said with a meek yet still confident voice, light with a soft hollowness to the cute sound that carried through the room. "I know I'm a bit young but I want to be a huntress too. I want to make sure everyone feels good to the best of my ability." More and more girls went, the whole of the female portion of the school laying out their reasons for wanting to be an adult star - be they basic or in depth, all having interesting stories that brought them here. To them all, it was normal that Miss Cinder and Emerald were teachers; they had always been of course.

A few days ago, the world had gone to hell. It had started out as just another day at school, then next thing Rei knew was she was fleeing to the rooftop with her boyfriend Hisashi and one of their other guy friends. What exactly had they been fleeing from? Zombies. Nobody knew what had happened or even how it had happened, but it had. Nobody knew what they were doing or where they were even going. At that point in time, it was a fight-or-flight moment. Thankfully, they did discover that the zombies were super sensitive to sound, which made getting around them a little easier if they were quiet. This had been a few days ago; now, the eighteen-year-old orange-haired female known as Rei Miyamoto was holed up in a hotel that she and Hisashi had escaped to get away from the zombies. Their intention had been to try and head to one of their homes first, but this was the closest and they had managed to get somewhere safely and undetected. The couple had also decided that they were going to have a bit of celebratory sex for managing to get away from those damn zombies. The exact reason that at the current point in time, Rei lay on the bed of the hotel with her skirts pulled up and her panties down to her ankles, her sex completely bared to that of Hisashi.

Right now, the only thing keeping Hiashi sane was his girlfriend, Rei. He knew she had started dating him just to get back at her previous boyfriend...but in that time they had grown into a real couple that cared deeply for one another. Now here they were, in a world going to hell with just each other right now...and she was all he wanted right now. He hovered above her, his shirt open at the front to expose his well-toned chest, he was quite the athlete. His lips were locked with hers, his tongue lashing at her lips and seeking to gain access to her mouth, his tongue wiggling wildly against her lips. His hands roamed up and down her body, one hand groping and squeezing at her breasts through her top while the other began to stroke at her bare sex, his fingers skillfully rubbing her labia before seeking out her clitoris and rapidly rubbing and gently tugging on that sensitive nub of hers. He pulled away from the kiss and looked at Rei in the eyes, his own filled with lust and affection. "Rei...I love you so much...I'm going to make you forget all about that loser, okay?" He began kissing up and down her neck, nibbling at her sensitive skin as he slowly began to sink two of his fingers into her womanhood, testing her tightness and wetness to see how aroused she was.

It was another uneventful day at Shujin Academy; the teacher lectured on about one thing or another while the sun shone beautifully outside. Thankfully, it was finally lunch time and students were now meandering around, eating their lunches in the cafeteria, in their classrooms or around random tables. There were two students in particular however who were not eating lunch and were engaged in rather unvirtuous activities. If one walked by the gym storage building, it could be heard. Indeed, the door had been left slightly ajar as one of the occupants was feeling rather adventurous, hoping someone might hear and be curious. The sound of flesh slapping rapidly against flesh, the sound of loud and lustful moans and groans echoed from the building. Inside was the recent transfer student, Akira, and the studious Makoto. However, she was hardly studious now, bent over as she was over a vaulting horse, her skirt pushed up to reveal her bubbly ass, her top seemed almost ripped open to reveal her rather sizeable breasts molding up against said vaulting horse. Behind her, Akira was gripped her ass, slamming his massive cock deep into her dripping womanhood. "How is it, Makoto...being fucked in school like this..."Akira asked with a lustful chuckle, leaning down and nibbling on her earlobe, sucking on it as his hand slithered down the front of her body and began to rapidly rub her clitoris while his cock pounded in an out of her like a piston, his tip slamming up against her cervix with every rough thrust. Another pair of students were wandering down the streets of Tokyo, hand in hand. Neither of them had school today, or it would be more apt to say one didn't have class and the other wasn't currently attending. Yusuke let out a blissful sigh as he walked down the street with Futaba, squeezing her hand gently. "It truly is a lovely day....I'm happy I get to spend it with you." He turned to give her a smile before it turned almost deathly serious. "Also, just because one of my pieces sold and I got paid, please don't pick anywhere too expensive to eat..." Being chronically poor as he was, Yusuke took every chance he could to treat Futaba when he was able by buying her new games or computer parts or taking her out to eat. He just had to remind her sometimes that well, he wasn't exactly Da Vinci in terms of how much money his paintings could pull in.

Perhaps it was the years of repression under the strict rules of her older sister and the school itself, the pressure of having to maintain a perfect image in order to get ahead in the world. Makoto never thought she'd be the lustful type, but lately, all of her actions were pointing her down a sordid direction thanks to Akira's presence at the school. Attracted to the dark-haired leader of the Phantom Thieves both romantically and physically, Makoto couldn't help but return his advances one day in class. From then on, it seemed like they had gotten progressively more daring, fucking in the classroom just moments after class was dismissed or on the roof against the fence above the athletic field. Today was a wild one. Makoto found herself bent over shamefully on a vaulting horse in a storage building, her ass bouncing back on Akira's cock. She tried to anticipate and control her moans and cries. Who knows who might hear them? Just the thought of getting caught by any member of the school forced her pussy to constrict around him. She dug her nails into the fabric of the vaulting horse to keep from losing her balance, something entirely likely when Akira was thrusting inside of her. Each stroke forced her head up, her creamy mounds bouncing in unison. "I...ah... love it!!! It... It feels so good, Akira-kun!" She exclaimed, her lips twisting into a lewd expression. She was getting so close... just as she heard the footsteps of someone from the trail outside. "Ah...ungh!!! Akira-kun! Someone's-" But it was too late. Someone Makoto recognized as another senior slipped into the gym storage room, apparently not noticing the strange grunts of pleasure or the stench of sex in the air. The brown-haired boy stopped dead in his tracks, dropping the box he was carrying on the ground as soon as he saw the student council president bent over a piece of gymnastics equipment, taking the transfer student's dick like a animal in heat. "Niijima-san?!" The student gasped, nervously squishing his legs together to hide the sudden bulge in his pants. It was a strange sight even for their friends to see the two walking together. The artist and the hacker. Even Futaba sometimes questioned it but decided to let things go where they may. The eloquent and precise artist was perhaps the first (and maybe the only) one to bring Futaba out of her shell by messing with her figures and taking an inquisitive but sincere interest in her hobbies. Eventually she found that she could just talk to him and he would never make her feel strange for it, no matter how much he childishly scolded her for silly things. "You know, Inari," she said teasingly, "we coulda just stayed with Sojiro and had some curry... or are you too scared of him to attempt that now? Mehehe." She put her hand behind her back and thought on it "Okay! I want sushi! Not the conveyor belt stuff though! We can go up from that, can't we?

The Intersection of Heart and Stomach BurdgeBug Viktoff Samson Tables lined a wall with many different faces and alcoholic beverages adorning the spaces above and on said tables. The very sound of drunken social delights had been heartwarming to contrast the dark and cloudy night sky outside. Despite wearing a smile as he readied up a serving platter with glass mugs, Koji was most certainly not awake or excited. Truth be told, the darkness beneath his green eyes grew as he humbly worked his way into a second shift right after his first one. He could summon a laugh in response to a joke a human made behind him, but the agitation of a tired and hungry beast swelled beneath the surface. How he managed to keep himself under control was beyond him. These years spent working for Hayato must have changed him. Hayato."That old bastard..."Koji thought to himself as he finished filling the final mug and headed towards a table. As grateful Koji was that Hayato was so kind to a street urchin like himself, making Koji put up with humans for what had already been ten hours was quite the stretch. He'd honestly rather be ripping apart Hayato's enemies and biting into their putrid flesh. Even fighting doves without sleep was far more palatable than this. Nobody ever accused Koji of disliking humans, but it certainly tried his patience. In any case, these faces were ones Koji would never get to know if it weren't for Hayato. The wavy brown haired ghoul just wished the old man was a little less aloof about these matters. And in almost no time at all, Koji couldn't think about anything he previously mulled over. His mind was renewed and a sinister smile etched across his face. Just as he finished serving a table across the bar, he noticed a particular young man that he's known for a week or two. And what really caught Koji's attention was the woman talking to him. This busy bee couldn't trust that poorly dressed sorry excuse for a man's wretched stench. It almost made him sick. And with a aigh, Koji let it go for now and resumed his various job-related chores.

Tokyo was definitely a beautiful sight to behold, and Beth instantly knew she'd made the right choice. Of course, she assumed Italy and England were just as wonderful in their own right, but she'd always been fascinated with Asian culture, and Japan was no exception. So she signed up to study abroad for the entire first semester of her sophomore year. She wasn't alone, either; a handful of her close friends and fellow classmates who were also art majors joined her. Whenever they weren't all busting their backsides in the classrooms, they were out among the vast city and enjoying all that it had to offer. And so it was that the small clique found themselves in a quaint pub towards downtown Tokyo. Dull vibrations of blaring music could be heard from a nightclub just next door, and vibrant lights from the adjacent buildings filtered in through the glass windows. Boisterous laughter echoed off the walls as the many patrons of the pub enjoyed their liquor with flushed cheeks and wide grins. Beth and her friends were no exception; after downing another shot of tequila, the young woman looked up through glazed-over eyes to see a man approaching their table. It didn't take long for him to convince her to join him in the nightclub next door due to the alcohol clouding her judgment and the fact that this stranger was quite the looker. Beth wasn't a heavy drinker, and when she did partake in it, she was normally responsible. But it was the weekend and they were through with midterms. A celebration was in order. She clumsily followed her suitor out of the pub and into a narrow alleyway. The pounding music of the club was more prominent and nearly ruptured her eardrums in her stupor. Despite this, however, she could sense that something wasn't quite right. The air seemed far colder than it had seconds ago, and the hairs on her arms and the back of her neck stood on end. Before she could question it, a sharp gasp escaped from Beth's parted, pink lips. The man had grasped her fish tail braid tightly and yanked hard on the golden strands of hair. Pain shot through her scalp as she was dragged backwards and up against the brick wall. She had every intention of screaming but it seemed that her assailant had predicted it, clamping a hand over her mouth. Beth began to hyperventilate as tears pricked her hazel eyes. Hush now, he growled in a low voice while a predatory gleam soon appeared in his golden irises. I've never had a foreigner before. With that, he extended his tongue and slid the muscle along the prominent vein in her throat before stretching his mouth wide open and tearing into the flesh.