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Spike had certainly grown up in the last five years that he had spent among the others as a citizen of Ponyville. The once childlike spike had grown into a teen-aged dragon. As he walked through town, he knew the other ponies watched him; Spike wasn't exactly cute or inconspicuous. In fact, most ponies feared dragons, and Spike could understand why.
As Spike walked through Ponyville, he gave the majority of the folks smiles and waves. In this town, everyone knew everyone, and that certainly helped. For most ponies around Spike, he was just another citizen. He had been around for years. Walking upright through town, he clutched a bouquet of flowers in his claws.
Today was the day. Spike had made up his mind. He had been crushing on Rarity for almost five years. Today was the day he finally confessed everything. He had steeled his resolve and walked forward towards Carousel Boutique. Walking up to the station, he couldn't help but feel his heart beating hard in his chest. Opening the door, he stuck his head in to see if this was actually a good time to bother Rarity. Her business had expanded in the last few years, as her reputation had grown. Swallowing for a moment, Spike couldn't remember the last time he had felt so nervous.
"Rarity?" Spike's voice was rather small, causing him to cough to try and make himself sound better. "If you have a moment, I have something I'd like to ask you." He said standing in the doorway, the flowers tucked behind his back. "If this is a bad time, I can come back later."
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"Oh, Spike, dear," the white unicorn ran towards the dragon and pressed a bunch of fabric rolls against his chest. "Be a dear and hold this for me, will you?" Before even waiting for an answer, Rarity already ran towards the other side of the room, back and forth she levitated papers, fabrics, little gems, and accessories.
Sweetie Belle, who watched the rather quick scene, just rolled her eyes and sighed. Then her horn began to glow in green light. "I'm sorry, she's been rather busy this whole week already." The fabrics began to levitate from Sweetie Belle's angle, and it wasn't hard to see what Spike was holding behind his back. A slight smile played at the corners of her mouth. "Is there any special reason you came here?" She asked innocently, with an almost naive tone. It was no secret to anyone, and had never been, that Spike had his eyes on her sister since his and Twilight's first visit in Ponyville. Well, maybe not to everypony but one...</s>
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After weeks of waiting, Matt's new console had finally arrived in the mail. A few months ago, he came across an advertisement online for beta testing the next generation of gaming consoles. It was weird to come across since the current consoles just came out months ago, but he figured he'd try it out. Now after long waiting, it was here. When he unboxed the console, he was confused by what he found. It was just the console. No cords, no controllers, it was only a console. Did it run on a battery? How can it recharge? How does he control the game? As he was confused, he decided to press the ON button. Surprisingly enough, it turned on.
The console booted up and a screen projected from the console. Text began to roll down the screen, giving Matt a message from the developers. It basically thanked him and told him about the console, mostly stuff he already read when he signed up. The last thing he read seemed a bit odd."Due to the nature of some of the characters, none of them are allowed to harm you, the user. Also, to prevent crashing and bugs, the characters can't stray for more than ten feet. These settings may be changed in the menu."It was odd, what was that suppose to mean?
Trying not to think too much into it, Matt went over to his library of games. Deciding to play something older, he popped in Darkstalkers. The game loaded up like normally and went to the character select screen. He pressed the screen with his finger and chose Morrigan, one of his best characters. The console then accepted his choice and began to glow. His room filled with a blinding light, making Matt nervous. What was about to happen next, Matt would've never suspected....
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As the brilliant flash of light faded away, there was something off about the feel in the room. A presence suddenly there when previously there had been none, a figure blurring into shape above the console, projecting from some strange lights over top of it. Blurry lines became more distinct, in purples, pinks, greens, and flesh tones -- and a LOT of the latter, resolving into an all-too-familiar shape.
Morrigan Aensland stretched, her back arching and her wings spreading out far as her arms went out above her head. She floated off the ground as she always had in the game, the soft curves of her legs straining against their hosiery as she continued to twist and undulate every which way, her expansive bosom jutting out proudly against her corset, almost spilling out of the impossibly tight clothing.
"Mmmm~. Well, good morning cutie," Morrigan said with a salacious smile, her body twisting around so that she lay on her stomach in midair, facing Matt directly. She cushioned her chin on her hands, breasts hanging almost free below her body as she winked one blue eye at him.
"Not quite what I was expecting," she purred, blue eyes twinkling and surveying his apartment. "Usually I'd be getting hot and sweaty with some big brute right about now. Or perhaps lovely Felicia or Lilith," she said with a briefly dreamy look, "... not to say that I still couldn't but... I guess not in the usual way," she said with a little quirk of a smile.
Perhaps he couldn't have chosen any better character than a succubus for his first choice...</s>
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Come on Jane, over here! The young man shouts behind him without slowing his pace. His sister, Jane, was never particularly fast or athletic, and walking off the path in this forest wasn't exactly easy. She was short, barely a hair over 53 inches tall, and didn't have much in the way of muscle on her. Her long wavy black hair kept getting snagged by branches, making her yell out to her brother. "It's not much further!" He assures her, starting to move up a hill, occasionally turning back to make sure she was still in sight.
Seriously Jack, wait up! Jane shouts angrily, throwing a twig at her older brother. He just laughs it off, grabbing her hand to help her up the crest. Jack stands over her at nearly a full six feet, with a more athletic physique. He has the same black hair, though cut much shorter, of course. After helping his sister up, Jane walks over to the spot he had found earlier. A fallen tree rests in front of circle of rocks that look like they were used to keep a campfire contained. Okay, we're here, so is this really all you wanted to show me? She asks, clearly not all that impressed. She huffs, blowing a loose strand out of her eyes as she looks around the clearing that must have been abandoned for a long time now.
Jack sits down on the tree and pulls his sister over to him. What, you don't like it? Come on, it's remote, and you have to admit, the view is pretty nice too. Plus, the place is really quiet. He whispers suggestively in her ear, gripping her waist tight and giving her a knowing look. Jane stands up, rolling her eyes in annoyance. "What? You know that these studies are very important to me. I have to make sure that my training as an oral master doesn't go to waste." Jane mutters under her breath, something about her big brother being a perv, and begins to stomp off, kicking one of the rocks for the campfire out of the way.
When she does so, the circle begins to sink as cracks appear. Jane! Jack shouts out, jumping up from his spot and running over to grab his sister. It's too late though, and the ground beneath their feet collapses. The two yell out as they start to fall down a long tunnel, holding each other throughout the slide. Closing his eyes, Jack clutches his sister tight, preparing for the worst. Luckily that doesn't happen. Instead they crash into a large pile of goose down pillows and silk clothes, the smell of expensive fragrances filling his nose. What the Jack mutters, looking up. It seems they fell into a large room surrounded by candles, and in the middle of it is the largest bed he'd ever seen. Hello, is anyone here? Jack calls out, standing up and checking to make sure Jane is okay.
His sister sits up and grumbles as she looks around. "This is the worst prank you've ever pulled!" She yells at her big brother. Movement on the bed catches their attention though, and Jack quickly puts himself between it and his sister. They both watch expectantly, wondering what was there. Slowly, they start to walk over to it. "J-Jack, what is it?" Jane asks nervously, clutching her brother's back. Her free hand moves to the dagger at her waist. No one ever left home without some kind of weapon on them, and she was no exception. A flash of something blue catches their attention. "It's... a girl?" She asks, looking at the sleeping form on the bed.
"More like a hottie," Jack says, staring in surprise at her. He moves over to the bed for a closer look. Some of her pale blue hair had fallen over her pretty face. As far as he can tell, she was around their age. "Who is she? I'd have noticed a girl like her at the village." He says as he brushes her hair to one side. Jane tells him she doesn't know, having never seen her before either. Not seeing much of any other choice, he starts to shake the girl awake, much to his sister's disapproval. It doesn't do any good though. "Maybe this is like a fairy tale." Jack suggests with a wink before leaning down and kissing the girl on her lips.
"Ugh, Jack, gross!" His sister yells, smacking his head. "It didn't even do any good. Besides, how can you do that? What if she's... you know... dead." Her older brother looks over at Jane and rolls his eyes.
"She's breathing just fine, and still warm," he says. His hand moves up the girl's body. This doesn't go unnoticed by his sister. "What? We need her to wake up to show us how to get out of here. Plus, I can always use more practice." He says as his hand gropes the girl's breast in his hand. Jane just rolls her eyes and stomps off, calling him a disgusting perv before getting to work looking for an exit. Jack ignores her, turning his attention to the blue haired girl. Her clothes are quickly pushed out of the way as he spreads the folds of her pink pussy. Wow, he hadn't gotten to practice as much as he liked, but even still, he'd never felt or smelled one as nice as hers. It was like it was begging him to continue, and he couldn't stop if he wanted to. Putting his skills to use, Jack slowly starts kissing along the girl's lower lips, sucking up the moisture as it forms. His tongue flicks out, running along her clit and rubbing it before he closes his mouth around it and sucks gently. He feels her squirm under him, and as she hits her climax, the whole room is bathed in a bright blue light that bursts forth out of the hole. "H-holy shit!" Jack yells, jumping back, looking around in surprise as he finds the three of them are back in the clearing next to the fallen tree.
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In a dreamless sleep, all sense of time is lost, and so Sari's only perceptions of the passing ages are the touches that send her into her slumber and the first ghosts of the sensations that come to awaken her. A feather's touch upon her forehead, then a gentle warmth against her lips, firm and yet fleeting. She moves slightly in her sleep as she feels a hand upon her chest, palming one breast and giving a gentle squeeze, the distant waking world coming closer as one hand is joined by another, both roaming lower and lower.
Dimly she is aware of voices, so distant that all she can make out is tones of anger and disgust. Sari reaches for consciousness slowly, too slowly, as she feels it begin to slip away from her, then finding herself rising towards it again as fingers press against her sex and part her folds delicately. The flush that has started on Sari's cheeks begins to spread as Jack's ministrations begin, creeping down her neck as her even breathing quickens in response. He may not be a true master of the art, but all that is required is the art itself to release the bonds that hold her consciousness, and with her reaching for wakefulness from within, willingly taking the pleasure into herself as it sends her speeding on her way back into the world of the living...
Her womanhood is well and truly leaking now, liquid arousal mixing with saliva as Jack works his way up and down her folds when he decides to go for the kill. Low moans tumble from Sari's lips and then escalate, becoming sharp and breathy cries as his tongue finds her clit, pushing her to the very edge of orgasm before he finally locks his lips to the sensitive organ and sucks. A cry of ecstasy pierces the air, the last manualist's back arches and she trembles uncontrollably as her eyes fly open, glowing blue light filling the chamber, reflecting back along the tunnel and searing straight upwards into the sky as the earth begins to shake around them and the world is washed away.
The world returns shortly though, and with it comes consciousness, true consciousness. Sari takes in a long breath and lets it out as she opens her eyes, prepared to see the temple and the sages who put her to sleep, to say hello and ask how long she'd been asleep.
Instead, light diffused through a leafy canopy and a startled scream greet her ears, prompting her sit up and at the same time try to scramble backwards. There are no familiar faces, not familiar roofs, not even a bed beneath her but a forest floor, hard packed earth and tree roots beneath her buttocks as she presses her back to a tree. "H-hello..." She greets cautiously, recognizing the two -now that she has a chance to look properly- as oral tribe people, two teenagers who could hardly be older than her, if not the same age, a brother and sister judging by their similar features. "I'm Sari... And you two?"</s>
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It had been hell. They'd come out of nowhere, summoned by magic. No warning, no nothing, just a magical portal that appeared in the city, streaming them forth. At first, the populace couldn't believe it. Sure, they were used to strange things coming out of nowhere; they housed the Teen Titans, after all. Aliens, supervillains, robots, all that and more terrorized the city, had for years now. But orcs? Orcs utilizing magical weaponry and rampaging through town as though they'd walked out of some strange fantasy novel? The sheer lunacy of it all had been overwhelming. Most of the population had succumbed within hours to the surprise onslaught. The Titans had rallied, but the attack hit all sectors of the city. They'd sent out a distress call, but it had almost been more of a warning.
The government had certainly taken it that way. They'd sequestered Titan City off from the rest of the country, insisting that was the best way to solve the problem. Albeit, the military couldn't do much against the orcs. Most of their weaponry simply failed whenever they got within range. Others just didn't work. A skilled fighter, someone who could fight hand to hand, mind, could do much against the orcs. Robin had proved that, had fought hard and valiantly. It all proved in vein, however.
Without any other options, the Titans had gone underground. They would not give up the city, not so long as they drew breath. However, they also knew better than to attempt a full frontal assault they'd surely lose. They'd done this before, or at least something like it. So they'd resorted to guerrilla tactics, launching surprise attacks against orcs, inflicting causalities to be sure, but likely causing a lot more in the way of annoyance. The hope was to stall till someone made a mistake, till some opening could be had.
No one had expected it to be the Titans who did so.
They'd gotten caught by the chief, a fierce warrior who seemed nearly unstoppable. Robin had fought him well, had even impressed the warrior, but he'd been losing. So Starfire had leaped to the rescue, literally plowing into the chief and, using her flight, getting him far away. Robin had attempted to rescue, had shouted, protested, screamed, and in the end, had simply yelled promise that they'd save Starfire, somehow.
So the perky alien found herself the captive of the orcs. They'd dragged her back to their camp, a desolate section of what had once been the park but had now been covered with various tents of stretched hide. Starfire didn't want to think about what had given its life for those hides.
The lanky Tamaranean looked very out of place among the orcs. They swelled, most with knotted muscles, several with pot bellies to match. Their heights varied, and the tall heroine did top several of them in that regards. Her brilliant orange skin stood out among the sea of green and gray, however. As did her vibrant, red-hair. Brilliant green eyes stared out from a face far more beautiful than the cruel creatures that swarmed about. They looked out from a strikingly pretty face, usually vibrant with a smile or other expression. The Tamaranean's sorrow weighed heavily upon her, however. It sunk her slender shoulders and made her lithe, muscular body almost fall in on itself.
Currently, the prized teen had been staked outside the chief's tent for all to look and examine. At least one bold orc had already blown his load upon the poor girl: a streak of thick cum having splashed her cheek and drizzled down to the skin-tight purple top. It streaked along her modest breasts, seeming to have glazed the teenage flesh. None dared get closer than that, however. The exception had been a shaman who had decorated Starfire's bared stomach with a symbol to match the chief's family totem. This labeled her as property, though of course the girl didn't know it. Said shaman had also placed a hefty collar around the girl's neck, claiming that it would diminish her powers, though perhaps not completely.
Defeated, Starfire hung there, both arms tied to stakes, legs loose but hopelessly so. The orcs loved to come over and flip her skirt up, and even now the tight purple had rolled to show the white panties that lay beneath. They'd left her alone for the moment, so Starfire wiggled, attempting to draw the skirt down and retain some modesty. She had no clue what the plan was for her, and if she did, chances were her spirits would be lower than they were even now.
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The orcs of Mo'grash were a savage race, no doubt. They were created by an insane warlock with the sole purpose of slaughtering populations and civilizations, ridding worlds of their males and enslaving the females to indulge in their nearly endless sexual drive. Countless worlds had fallen to their onslaught, with the females ultimately dragged back to the home world where they were used as sex slaves, and for breeding to create more females of their kind. Orc semen itself was special, in the fact that it altered itself so it could impregnate any female from any species and the birth would always result in another female of the slave's species, but with slightly altered genes as to make the new born more desiring of sex when they came of age. By the second or third generation of children, most species were little more than sex-craving machines.
The orcs were divided into clans, each of which had a specialized purpose in their society. Despite being savage and violent, the orcs were rather organized, they needed to be to conquer so many worlds. Gor'rash was the massive leader of the Malfor Clan. He stood a good 2 and a half to three feet taller than most orcs and was very well built and muscular. He was the elite of the elite, a warrior created to slaughter the best warriors on each planet, and to mate with the best females to produce the greatest of offspring. He hand command of the entire Malfor Clan, some half a million orcs in total. His clan was only the first wave of a typical invasion force. Once they had a firm and established encampment, more orcs would follow, and the grand total of a whole invasion force normally reached somewhere at or near a billion combat able orcs on the invaded world.
This world, Earth, had been no different from any other world they had invaded. They had arrived and taken the populace completely by surprise as they slaughtered all who attempted to stop them. They had driven away the city's most gallant defenders, the Teen Titans. Now, they had a firm encampment in the ruins of the city. More orcs would soon be on their way over, but Go'rash was surprised when he was challenged to single combat by the apparent champion of the city, a boy named Robin. He was impressed by the vigor and determination of the boy, any orc could at least respect a fellow warrior who gave it their all. Still, the chief had been too much for the boy and as he was getting ready to deliver the finishing blow, he was struck by a young woman, one not of this world. He quickly dispatched the girl and took her as his personal slave, his property.
For the past few hours, Go'rash had been nursing the wounds he acquired in his bout with Robin and communicating with the Warlords on Mo'Grash of the invasion's progress. He heard the constant shuffling of his clansmen outside his tent as they examined her newly acquired prize. He took a deep drink of ale from his flask as he let out a breath, all orcs enjoyed ale. He walked out of his tent and blew his war horn, summoning his clansmen to assemble in front of his tent. The orcs amassed quickly, all knowing what to expect from him at this point. After all, a prize was meant to be used.
"Lo'tarlo! Mola ga ish loma!" The chieftain cried out as he pounded his chest multiple times as the assembled horde let out a collective roar. He motioned for silence after a moment as he then pointed towards the chained up Starfire. The orc seemed to lick his disgusting lips as an extremely large bulge was now apparent in his leather trousers. As he walked towards the captured, he ripped his pants off to reveal his throbbing, massive and veiny cock. It was by far the largest sex organ Starfire had ever seen in her entire life, and male Tamaranean's were known for being pretty well-endowed.
"Mala! Intaro mo ga forda!" The chief called out with a roar again as he undid the binds from Starfire's wrist as he roughly pulled her towards him. He pressed her back against his massive chest as his cock rubbed up against her firm ass. His rough and large hands reached down and ripped her panties from her body as he tossed them aside. He lowered his cock down and began to rubbed it against her now exposed pussy as he wrapped his arms around her and his callused hands squeezed her lovely breasts through her top, his fingers, with long, sharp nails, rubbing against where her nipples were.</s>
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Jake Blaze smiled as he stepped out into the wilds of the Kalos region. He was a young man of twenty years, standing at six feet tall, with striking flame-red hair and ice-blue eyes. He wore jeans, a red T-shirt, and a black leather jacket. Six empty Pok Balls hung from his belt. Strange phenomena had hit the world of Pokmon; it had turned each monster with a gender into an anthropomorphic version of itself, and they now spoke the human language. Jake couldn't wait to talk to one and learn about their lifestyle. He set off in search of his first catch candidate.
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As Jake walked down a route known for wild Pokemon, he found himself surrounded by tall grass. As most people know, Pokemon are often found hiding in such tall grass. A small patch moved, and out of the grass, a brown-furred, tall rabbit stood. It was a female Lopunny, one of the Pokemon affected by this strange affliction. It had done wonders for her, as she now sported large breasts hanging under a patch of white fur, and a tall, thin body that was alluring to those who saw it. She stretched, apparently having just woken up.</s>
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Nal Hutta, the name meant "Glorious Jewel" in Huttese, the native language of the species that now controlled the planet. Nal Hutta was the capital of Hutt Space and was located in the Y'Toub system. The planet was controlled by the Grand Council which was comprised of members from the various Hutt clans or kajidics. However, once one landed on Nal Hutta it became clear that the planet was neither glorious nor was it a jewel. Originally the planet was a lush jungle world with vast oceans but it soon became a polluted and barren wasteland once the Hutts took it over. Now much of the planet's surface was covered with flat, marshy bogs, muddy puddles, and sickly marsh grass. Even its atmosphere was polluted but the planet was still able to be inhabited. Several of its animals soon developed ways to survive the pollution caused by the Hutts. The Hutts build all kinds of palaces, pleasure gardens, and clan houses all over the planet.
The Hutts themselves were primarily gangsters and slavers. They saw themselves as vastly superior to other creatures. The various Hutts clans also took every opportunity they could to stab each other in the backs. They did not get along and did not trust one another.
The capital city of the planet was Bilbousa, which was a large port city. The Bilbousa bazaar and spaceport were points of interest in the city. Bilbousa was also where the Hutt Grand Council was located and from there the Hutts also ruled Nal Hutta's moon, Nar Shaddaa which was also known as the Smuggler's Moon.
Kalu Desilijic Tronus, was the head of the Desilijic clan...a clan notorious for its members' interests in humanoid females, extravagant tastes, hedonism, and expensive palaces. The Desilijic clan was one of the most ruthless of all the Hutt clans and were the bitter enemies of the Besadii clan.
Kalu had built his palace outside of Bilbousa. It was a large structure, meant to make anyone who saw it feel small and worthless. Four spires surrounded the structure and served as watchtowers. The structure itself was round in design and a brownish-gold in color. From here Kalu controlled his various criminal enterprises and was always looking to form new alliances and deals with anyone who had no scruples about forming an alliance with a notorious crime kingpin.
The Hutt himself was currently awaiting the arrival of a slave girl he had just recently purchased. The slime on his skin seemed to glisten slightly as the dim lighting from his palace shone on his body. Kalu settled back in his throne and puffed on his hookah.
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It was bad to be a female Twi'lek, for more often than not, you were sold into slavery. Indeed, Aola Ven was one of those unfortunate female Twi'leks to be sold into slavery. And she had the misfortune of being sold to a Hutt to add insult to injury. She would have been happier... or at least, less repulsed, if she had been sold to a human; they didn't have a horrid appearance like Hutts did.
Instead, she had been bought as if she was a mere object in a store rather than a sentient being, and she was suffering the indignity of being put into a cage and pretty much being boxed up with a bow on top like a present for her new master. She had to be of extreme value to the Hutt, she had many guards surrounding her cage as she was brought before the Hutt. Privately, she was wondering how many credits she was worth to the Hutt.</s>
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Jenova High looked like any other high school at first glance. The main building sprawled across roughly a city block, with several smaller buildings scattered about its perimeter. An open field on one side held a few sports fields, while another adjacent to it boasted a track and buildings containing a pool and other necessary sports facilities. Trees lined the street leading up to the front doors, which opened onto rows of lockers and other traditional high school amenities.
But what set Jenova apart from other schools were its students. Nearly every student here was training to enter the real world and fight, whether they took it seriously or not. Some had even become experts, taking over the school's defense. And most of these "experts" were female, beautiful girls who wore the school uniform - a skirt and white top - in ways that made them stand out. They called themselves SEEDs, for reasons unknown.
Perhaps though, the SEEds were why the orcs had attacked the high school first. Perhaps they'd known that there were young people in there with great powers. Perhaps they'd sought that power. Perhaps the SEEds had even done it to themselves by opening a rift or doing something else that might have resulted in their drawing the attentions of the orcish horde. Or perhaps it had just been poor luck. Or maybe the orcs craved young, vibrant flesh for their consumption. It hardly mattered. They were there and they were beastly.
Aerith Gainsborough was a junior at the school, skilled almost exclusively in the magical arts and almost exclusively from there in healing spells. The pretty girl had long been sought after by the student body. For like most of the SEEds, she looked almost too appealing. Long brown hair fell in a very loose curl past her softly rounded rear. The hair framed a beautiful, almost fragile face. Out from behind a pair of delicate glasses looked wide green eyes, almost always lined with laughter or a smile. A lined choker covered her slim neck, and, like most of the SEEds, she wore a slightly modified uniform. Hers was red on white, and arguably the least modified of all the SEEds, with just some metal bands on the sleeves and about the small of her arms. Her skirt was flirtatiously short without revealing anything. Though a few very determined individuals had concluded that Aerith preferred to have undergarments that matched her uniform. This often meant wearing white cotton panties with red stripes upon them, which were likely matched by a bra that supported her modest chest.
Of course, all that had been stained with blood now, as the panting, captive girl sat hunched beside a wall. Her hands had been bound behind her back with what felt like bent metal, the roughness nearly scraping her soft skin. Her skirt and shirt had already been torn and blood splattered, and she wasn't sure if she should be happy or sad that the blood was a mix of orc and human, including her own. At least she'd had enough magic to heal most of her severe injuries, and most of her partner's.
Yes, partner, for Aerith had been assigned Rikku Al-Bhed, who at least got on well with the other girl. Rikku got on fairly well with most people, as her cheery, bubbly nature won most over fairly quickly. It probably helped that she walked that dangerously thin line between "cute" and "sexy" like a tightrope walker. Like Aerith, she was a junior, but unlike Aerith, she didn't act like it. Some had actually guessed the girl with the swirling green eyes to be much, much younger than she actually was. Her moderately impressive bust helped stave off too many of those rumors. Probably helped that she'd modified her uniform to show off a decent expanse of the cleavage. Her brilliant yellow bra, which probably went against uniform, seemed only to enlarge those perky breasts as opposed to hide them. Like most of the SEEds, her top did bare a small expanse of her taut stomach, and Rikku had the muscles of one of the more active members. Those same muscles showed on her long legs, which stuck out from the brilliant yellow skirt. Rumor had it that she wore a yellow thong that matched her bra most days, and Rikku had gone further to prove it once or twice, teasingly pulling either the thong up or the skirt down to show. At least she wore a long scarf about her neck. Her hair had been done in a truly ludicrous style, however, with part of it being left to flow free while most of it fell about in various tightly braided dreads.
Of course, now she looked even more battered than Aerith. Great tears showed in her clothing, and it almost looked like the orcs had enjoyed ripping more of her skirt. Despite all the healing, bumps and scratches still showed across Rikku's tightly muscled flesh. They'd gagged her not soon after finally subduing her though, and opted to tie her up even tighter than Aerith.
For they'd lost. They'd fought as bravely as SEED could, and had been in position to simply pull back to a safe zone. But Aerith had noticed some students, mostly females, being cornered by orcs. The orcs appeared to have throbbing clubs around their waists that bobbed up whenever they drew close to a female. Aerith hadn't actually seen one fully drawn out, as they often kept their loincloths on, but she believed that to be their greatest weapon. They seemed to reserve it only for cornered females though, for some reason. Aerith could recall hearing the screams from girls about keeping the huge things away from them. Rikku had giggled when Aerith had pointed them out, beginning to tell her what they were. Before she'd gotten too far though, they'd had to distract the orcs.
There had just been too many. Put three or more SEEDs together and their combined abilities would make them fierce enough to stop most. Two though, especially two with Aerith's and Rikku's abilities, two didn't stand a chance. A thief and a healer were no match for brutes, not without some muscle to back them up. Aerith had barely managed to make sure that the brutes didn't do them any permanent harm. Apparently this had worked to their favor: supposedly the chief wanted any SEED girls captured and brought to him personally. So Aerith and Rikku had been bound up tight, brought before a section of the school to be presented before some sort of leader or champion or something.
And now Aerith looked out through her glasses, scanning the room and wondering just what kind of person she'd been delivered to now.
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Tsavong was a massive creature, even as a member of a species that was known for being quite large and strong. The average Orc stood at about six and a half feet tall and were massively broad at the shoulders, but Tsavong was even larger, standing just an inch shy of seven and a half feet tall and weighing nearly twice as much as the normal Orc. His dark green skin was covered in multiple scars and his broad chest and abs displayed several black tribal designs tattooed over the flesh. His position as the leader of his massive tribe was undisputed; it had been years since any had dared to challenge him, and the memory of that brutal fight had left even the most rebellious natured of Orc think twice about challenges to his authority. He wasn't just strong though, he was smart; Orcs were not always known for being the most intelligent of creatures, but they often had a brutal sort of cunning that made them dangerous. Tsavong was different - this was an Orc who could think, plan, lead his clan from being a group of feared monsters to something so much more... And when he had risen to his role as the leader, he had started putting a plan into place right away. First came the expansion: kidnapping human women to help increase their numbers, attacking and taking control of other groups to assimilate the strongest, avoiding fights that would hurt their numbers rather than help them. Then, when they had enough numbers, it was time for what the Chief had in mind: Jenova High would be the perfect acquisition to help increase his power, to ensure that he would become more than just a chief of Orcs, but instead the ruler over a massive empire. A few years ago rumors of this school had reached his ears, in particular there were the rumors of the exceptionally attractive young woman at that school called the SEEds. They were apparently as dangerous as they were attractive, everything he heard had convinced Tsavong they would make perfect breeding stock for him, creating a legacy of strong Orc offspring that would serve to expand the Empire he hoped to build.
The attack on the school and the town that held it had been swift, the element of surprise had allowed the Orcs to swiftly take control and lock the place down, ensuring that no one was able to escape and of course keep anyone from getting in. It was only a matter of time, however, before some people tried to intervene but by then Tsavong expected to have other Orcs arriving to take part in what was happening.
With the school and town swiftly falling under his control, Tsavong was quick to dispatch orders to those around him. The females belonged to any Orc that could catch them, while the SEEd females were his and were to be brought to him unharmed if at all possible. As for himself, he took up residence in the office of the school's principal, a makeshift throne having been assembled from the desk that had been in there supported his massive frame when a chair built to human standards would not do. Even then, the makeshift throne was having trouble holding him upright, but he didn't care; something better was being assembled for him.
As he lounged back against the office wall, he used his prominent teeth to rip some chard flesh from the leg of a deer that had been brought to him, washing it down with a mouthful of crudely distilled but very potent liquor, treating a coffee mug like it were little more than a shot glass. He heard the heavy footsteps of approaching Orcs, smelled the captives carried with them, and grinned to himself, a wide smile that displayed his teeth and did little to make him look less threatening.
As the door opened and the girls were brought in, he sat up a little straighter, quite pleased by the catch that he saw before him. His boys had done good. Leave em... He grunted as he slowly got to his feet, his deep voice sounding like a landslide that could speak. There should be others. Find them and bring them here now. He couldn't be satisfied with just this; he might miss out on the choicest breeders.
To their credit, the others were smart enough to scramble. The door slammed behind them, leaving Tsavong alone in the office with the two pretty young things sitting tied up on the tight carpet. He honestly didn't know where to start and slowly approached them, his musky scent even more powerful than that of the other Orcs, the loincloth he wore hardly enough to conceal anything. As he drew closer, it started to shift... it wouldn't hide anything for much longer. Which one of you do I want first? He asked as he crouched before them, reaching for the blonde with a thick finger extended, catching the edge of her top with his nail and starting to slowly pull it back. A deep breath, he could smell them, they both sounded so fucking good. Which one of you wants to be first?</s>
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Sitting in the club room of the Neighbor's Club,Kodaka Hasegawa relaxed on the couch as everyone else in the club did their thing. Sena was on the TV, playing her games. Yozora and Rika were reading their books, although Rika's book seemed to be a dirty one judging by that look on her face. Yukimura stood in the corner of the room, waiting for someone to call for her assistance. And Kabato and Marie were chasing each other around, acting like kids as they usually do. Everything was like a normal day in the Neighbor's Club.
Since the club started, everyone's lives have been pretty eventful. Yozora turned out to be Sora, Kodaka's long lost childhood friend. Yukimura turned out to really be a girl, after so many years of thinking that she was a boy. Rika opened his eyes to the fact that they were all friends all along. Kabato learned to get along with others, although she still seems to fear Sena. Marie is now acting like a normal girl, instead of her superiority complex she had when they first met her. And speaking of superiority complex, his time with Sena has drastically improved. He learned that she was also a childhood friend from his toddler days. She's also his fiance, arranged by their fathers. And she even confessed her love to him a few weeks ago. Since then, he's been having these strange feelings about Sena. He wanted to act on these feelings, but he wasn't sure how the others would take it, especially after getting a lot of hints that the others seem to have a thing for him, especially Yozora. Plus, what would Yozora do if she found out that he had feelings for Sena? She'd probably kill her.
After another uneventful day, Kodaka got up and got ready to leave. "I'm heading out. Let's go Kabato. See you guys tomorrow." Kodaka headed out the door with his little sister, holding her hand and walked home with her, strangely happy about the recent days in the club. Nothing has really changed, but since he was confronted by Rika, everyone seems to be more open with each other, and they are actually friends, although Yozora and Sena would never admit it.
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The atmosphere of the club room was the same as usual; boring but relaxing. The silence was filled from time to time by Kobato's and Maria's excited howls as they chased each other around the club room. Sena was grumbling to herself as she played her games and she was almost certain she could hear slight heavy breathing from Rika, who was reading manga. Boys Love, no doubt.
Yozora Mikazuki flipped the page of her book and sighed, her fingers idly playing in her short hair. She twirled a lock around her finger and glanced up at Kodaka when he announced he was leaving. She said nothing but watched as he left. Rika and Yukimura told him goodbye in unison, Sena heard nothing, grossly involved in her game to hear the door open then close.
Yozora looked around at the others and after a moment's thought - whether to follow Kodaka so she could walk with him some of the way home or not - she closed her book and picked up her bag. "I'm leaving," she announced, thinking that her voice sounded a bit awkward, as if giving away how eager she was to leave.
Rika looked at her with a look Yozora found a little scrutinizing and she raised a brow, frowning at the girl."What?"
"Nothing,"she said flippantly with a shrug of her shoulders then returned her focus to her book.
Yozora shrugged and walked out the room, closing the door behind her after muttering a goodbye to Yukimura. She walked at a leisurely pace down the hallways but when she turned the corner, she broke into a run; wondering if Kodaka was already well off school property. No matter though, if she didn't catch him today she would tomorrow.
She was still running, her head down instead of focusing on her path, as she neared the school gate and she bumped into someone's back. She bounced back and caught herself from a fall then looked up.
"Kodaka. Why don't you watch where you're going?"she glared at him, keeping a hand against her skirt to keep it from lifting when a gust of wind blew by them.</s>
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A new year has begun at the Fumizuki Academy, a special school where students are placed in certain grade average classes based on their academic scores. The higher the grades, the higher the class, and the better the benefits. The different classes can challenge another class to a war where they use the school's special program to summon avatars with a teacher's permission. Though the avatars cannot hurt other students directly, they all have different power levels based on their latest test scores in the subject that is challenged. So naturally it pays to be in Class A, or the strongest class. The goal of the war is to defeat the other class' student representative or leader. When the winner is decided, the classes swap classroom supplies which Class A has the most prestigious items while Class F has the opposite. Those whose characters are defeated by reaching zero health must take supplementary lessons to restore their health, and the class that loses must wait three months before challenging another class for war.
It sounds cool, she guessed. Emilee thought about the ways of this new school having to prepare herself for what was ahead of her, though honestly she didn't care too much. Sure, fighting with avatars is cool and she was pretty good at video games, but the studying part sounded boring. Emilee studied every now and again, but really she was too busy with her games to care about that. Probably why she ended up in Class F to begin with, oh well. Maybe in there she won't have to work at all and instead just bring her 3DS to school every day. Besides, why study so much if she wasn't going to use it in life anyway? It's best to just lay back and enjoy life while they're young, but she could tell by the school uniform that she had to wear that this wasn't the case.
After walking past the other classes, she had to admit, Class A did look fancy like an upper-class rich school while the others were growing less impressive as the grades went down. Finally, she reached her class: Class F. The sign was made from a old piece of wood that dangled by one chain...bad omen for things to come. Once she opened the door, Emilee got a good look at the classroom before her. Mats for chairs, boxes for desks, no chalk for the chalkboard, a old podium...great. Softly she sighed and decided to sit in the back corner. She placed her bag down beside the tomato box that was now her desk and sat down on the dirty flat mat, crossing her legs Indian style despite being in a skirt. Even though it would make her skirt shorter and easier to see up of it didn't seem to bother or embarrass Emilee. Instead, she just pulled out a box of pocky and started munching away at the chocolate covered stick with her hand holding her head up with a bored expression.
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Nathan sighed as he sat in Class F, the worst class available at Fumizuki Academy. How he got such horrid grades, he'll never know...for he knew he was smarter than this! But apparently there was a mishap with his paperwork and grades...so the school got lazy and threw him into Class F for the semester. He would sit in front of Emilee, not really paying attention to the girl as she came in and sat behind him. He was just lightly dozing off all the while wondering...Why? Why was he part of Class F. He thought he'd at least get Class C but apparently this was not the case...and he sighed...falling backwards onto his back, head looking above him with his eyes closed...and suddenly he'd open them, only for his face to go red as he was looking right up Emilee's skirt. His face was red and a little bit of blood began to lightly drizzle from his nose as he eyed the girl...not even knowing if she was watching him or not.</s>
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Shao Khan was dead. Truly, that filled Kitana with more joy than anything else. Her homeland had been freed and avenged in one fell swoop. But their heroine was unlikely, and one that she had spent long hours debating if it was truly a greater evil, or simply another conqueror that Outland had far too many of. The defeat of Shao Kahn hadn't meant immediate peace for Outworld; far from it. There were many, formerly of Shao Kahn's army and some new that had taken up the attempted mantle to rule again. As the daughter of Shao Kahn, her own word had more weight than she wanted to admit...but she saw nothing but the same thing it had always been.
But it was that unlikely Heroine that she searched out over a ragged battlefield this day, her Shokan warriors paying Kitana little more than a faint nod of mild respect-it looked forced, but given what her father did...she couldn't blame them.- as Jade trailed behind her. They were beautiful women, shapely and delicious to the eye as Kitana's sash framed her perfectly round ass as she walked, her face obscured by her mask and her fans resting on her bare hip. Jade harbored no dishonesty; they were walking into a perpetual den of wolves, with little more than the two of them to defend themselves if something went wrong. Still, Kitana insisted on meeting Sheeva on her own terms.
She saw Sheeva's back, her stance settled into a pose of meditation as two Shokan warriors moved up to block their passage. Kitana's eyes stiffened as their four arms crossed casually. They were scavenging the battlefield, finding their dead...burning the bodies of those that were not their own. She had erected a small tent for herself.
"...I wish to speak to your Queen," Kitana said resolutely. "I come as the Princess of Edenia."
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It had been some years since Sheeva recalled first being drafted into combat as a warrior of Shao Kahn's own employ... But at some point even she tired of the constant battles, all the losses in the name of their emperor. Her Shokan kin came to agree with her: they tired of dying in the name of in the name of men like Kahn and Shang Tsung who saw them as little more than disposable cattle.
Sheeva led the charge in their rebellion, against Kahn's forces and those elite warriors who were still loyal to him. Losses were heavy on both sides, but when the emperor dropped dead it didn't take long for his soldiers to lose morale and surrender. Sheeva soon took the power vacuum over, becoming Outworld's empress.
"Let them enter. And close the flaps behind them," the muscular woman said firmly. Sheeva rose from the rows of burning ceremonial candles, turning to reveal her heavy breasts, lingering bruises, and the metal bikini and red silk loincloth barely covering her light brown muscular flesh. "Why have you come to me?"</s>
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Nilda shivered for the umpteenth time, stifling the whimper that threatened to escape her lips. She clutched at the white lab coatshe wore that barely fit, vainly trying to cover up more of her big, beautiful breasts and creamy white flesh in an attempt to hide it from the chill of the night air. Still she never thought to complain, instead looking atLucy Taylorwith a wide eyed and trusting gaze as she steeled her courage for the millionth time this harrowing night and moved as quickly and quietly as she could. Nilda had no idea how she would have survived everything they'd gone through without the quick thinking guidance the lovely, inked amazon-esque woman had provided.
"Hell, I know where I'd be if Lucy hadn't found me, still stuck in that hospital room being poked and prodded like a lab rat,"Nilda thought to herself as her grateful gaze rested upon her new friend. Nilda's breath caught in her throat, not for the first time as she took in the sight of Lucy's gorgeous eyes so radiant and deep that she felt like she could swim in them for hours.
"STOP IT, girl! Right now! We lost them... But they still could be here any minute,"the barely dressed, curvaceous woman thought to herself as she shuddered again and looked around at where they were. Slums, definitely, WAY off the beaten track. They were in an abandoned railway tunnel, a space where a lot of homeless people had made cardboard boxes into shacks. Basically, a place where only the forgotten came... Which was perfect, for now.
Nilda moved a little closer to Lucy and whispered, "now... Now what?" Nilda's tone carried nothing but her absolute faith in Lucy to come up with the perfect plan to keep them safe, and her patience and quiet acceptance of what they had to deal with after all they'd already been through. She blinked as she had a memory flash from the recent past. Lucy pointing to the locked door they had to get through and her, weak little Nilda, tearing the door of its hinges and casting it aside, accidentally throwing it into the pair of gun toting guards coming up from behind them.
"I was scared shitless... Don't know how I did that..."she thought to herself as she gave herself over to Lucy's guidance, cold and tired and hungry, god she'd never BEEN so hungry, but well aware of how a misstep now could land them back there where all they'd have to look forward to were tests and medical shinnanigans.
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Lucy wasn't happy with the situation they were in, not to mention the headache she had beating through her head and down her spine. "Fuck," The tattooed woman mutters as Nilda moves in closer. Lucy didn't mind the clingy Nilda, she could understand why she was scared but Lucy didn't have time to be scared. The doctors jackets they were wearing just wouldn't be enough to keep them warm tonight, so Lucy knew she had to do something to get them out of this pickle. "You need to trust me, I want you to stay here in the shadows and just wait for me." Lucy looks at Nilda with a reassuring smile before kissing the plump woman on the forehead. "Half hour, give me that before looking for me." Lucy bids her farewell as she stands and goes on her personal mission.
With no money and armed with her own hands, Lucy walks until she finds a thrift store. Being closed wasn't going to keep her out. Lucy walks around to the back door in the alley, hopefully she still had enough energy to kick the door in like she did back at the lab. With a deep breath and little prayer, she gives it all she has as she kicks in the back door. Of course it was a steel door but Lucy didn't question it as she runs in as the alarm sounds. It was a bad part of town so it would take the cops a while to show up. Gathering what she could, Lucy makes sure she doesn't leave fingerprints as she leaves and heads back to Nilda.
"Boo." She whispers as she comes up behind Nilda and shows her the clothes. "I wasn't sure what your size was, so I got mostly sweatpants and hoodies. No underwear, that would be nasty to buy used." Lucy places the clothes on the ground as she removes her lab coat. Yes, her male part was dangling between her legs as she pulls on a pair of black sweatpants and a red hoodie. "As for shoes, I found a pair of socks each and boots, I figure mens boots would fit whether it was the right size or not." Lucy came through for Nilda. With some decent clothing they could at least go out in the daytime.</s>
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Harry Potter was in his 6th year at Hogwarts and was, as usual, dabbling with things that he really shouldn't have been dabbling in. It wasn't anything dark or forbidden, no, even Harry knew better than that. And while for a Wizard his age it was illegal to Apparate...well...what he was trying to do wasn't technically Appearing so technically it wasn't illegal. He was trying to come up with an entirely new way of teleporting using magic, something untraceable, unblockable, something that would give him the edge he would need with how the world was changing.
Sadly, this wasn't quite something he could handle all alone. Rather than turn to Hermione for help though, after all she would almost certainly have refused to help and just tried to talk him out of something like this, Harry had instead turned to Ginny. She was the next most intelligent and skilled person he knew after Hermione that he could trust.
The two had been working together for a few days now, but they were close to a breakthrough...Harry could feel it. All the pieces were in place....it was just a matter of balance. The wand motions, the concentration, the level of magic...all of it was right but there was just something missing. For now, Harry was trying to use a potion to fill in whatever 'gap' was left in the spell....and he almost had it right. "Ok....just a little of this and...." He grinned, the potion turning an ice blue in the small cauldron. "Ok...that should do the trick..."
With a slightly cocky grin, Harry dipped his wand into the potion, holding it for a few moments before pulling it out. "Ok Ginny....let's just try....outside by the lake..." He nodded, closing his eyes and trying to visualize the lakeside, waving his wand slowly. For a second it seemed nothing had happened, but then there was a loud crack, sparks of magical energy everywhere and a blinding flash, both teens being knocked off their feet. When their vision cleared though, they would find themselves staring upwards not at a stone ceiling, but a clear blue sky. "It worked!!" For a second Harry thought everything had gone perfectly, but when he sat up he blinked. The lake was looking a lot....bigger. Wait....there was sand beneath his fingers...the lake didn't have a beach. "Huh...?" Slowly Harry stood up and looked around, then yelped as he saw they were not only nowhere near the lake....but nowhere near Hogwarts....the pair now on the beach of what appeared to be an island somewhere in the middle of the ocean.
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Ginevra (Or Ginny as everyone referred to her) had been rather eager when Harry asked for her help, especially when he chose her over Hermione. Okay, so he likely only asked for her help because Hermione would have gone straight to a member of the faculty as Harry was tampering in something fairly illegal, but it was the thought that counted. And if all went well, it would be a great learning experience for everyone involved.
Ginny had been hovering around Harry like a busy little bee, gathering whatever components he needed for his experiment and handling any of the more complex measurements for his ingredients. "Hm... it's certainly a long process," Ginny mused about halfway through the experiment. Still, her grin refused to fade away, eager to have this chance to work with her crush. Against the rules or otherwise, this was still new and fun!
So she braced herself when Harry reached into the cauldron, and then with a powerful rush the two were flung across the barriers of space at a phenomenal speed, both of them bursting out onto some sort of sunny beach - Ginny landing flat on her cute butt as they hit the sand. "Ooof!... In the future, Harry, you might want to bring a cushion for the journey," Ginny mused. She paused then, blinking in shock and then gulping loudly. "This... isn't the lake, is it?"</s>
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Konan looked around the cave as Nagato summoned them all there for a meeting. She stood, watching the men of the Akatsuki stoically. She did not show any emotion as she listened to her oldest friend speak. Not that what he said now was of any importance. He was merely giving them permission to leave.
Konan stepped down from her position on the statue and made her way down. Looking around, she watched as the men filed out. For once, there was no arguing. Her amber eyes focused on the one that remained. She wondered why he was not leaving yet. That took her off guard. Usually he was the first person to leave.
As Nagato's second-in-command, she walked over to him. The cloak covered her frame. She stopped in front of him. "May I help you?" she asked him. She was careful around him. She did not trust him. She did not really trust anyone in the Akatsuki, so she kept her distance.
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The figure grinned under his hood as he stepped towards Konan, his massive scythe shimmering in the faint light as he was now standing directly in front of her, his massive figure imposing upon her small one. He folded his hood down to reveal his face as he let out a chuckle and licked his lips.
"It's simple... bitch," he said, "I want to fuck you." Hidan was always crass and vulgar, but never like this. He pulled out a bottle which seemed to contain blood and he dropped it on his scythe as his skin began to blacken.
"That was your blood I dropped on my blade," he continued, "And you know what my ability is... so I suggest you comply with me." He grinned at her, knowing that he had her right where he wanted her. If he refused her, he would kill her.</s>
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Bozeman, Montana....April 5, 2063....First Contact. It was only moments after the Vulcan scout ship landed that the Humans who were led by Zefram Cochrane attacked and killed the aliens. The Vulcan Ship was then stripped of everything while the Humans acted like wild animals partying around the fallen bodies of the alien invaders. The Terran Empire had just found new technology which it would use to expand across the quadrant. The Terran Empire applied this stolen Vulcan technology to a policy of aggressive expansion which led to many races being conquered. The Andorians, the Tellarites, the Orions, the Trill, the Betazoids and yes the Vulcans soon found themselves under the heels of the Terran Empire. The Humans showed themselves to be brutish, scheming, and murderous creatures and they even shocked the Klingons & Romulans with how deceitful they could be.
The Empire's hold on its territories was initially weak. In the 2150's, some of the worlds conquered by the Terrans were beginning to rebel against the empires rule, leading to a long running conflict in which the empire came to the brink of collapse. Propaganda, however, conveyed the message that things were going in the Empire's favor and that the war would be over soon. In 2155 the USS Defiant, a Federation ship launched in the 23rd century of a parallel universe, was reported in Tholian space. A mission was undertaken by the crew of the ISS Enterprise which at the time was under command of its First Officer Jonathan Archer. It was Archer's plan to steal this ship away from the Tholians and use it to put down the rebellion. The crew of the Enterprise did in fact steal this ship from the Tholians, but also lost the Enterprise in the opening moments of the battle. It did appear that Archer would destroy the rebellion. It even seemed like he would take control over the Empire, but double dealing and backstabbing were apart of everyday life in the Terran Empire, that is if one wanted to get ahead. Archer found out too late that another member of the Enterprise crew had her sights set on ruling the empire. Lieutenant Hoshi Sato, who was the Enterprise's communications officer had ideas of her own. She poisoned Archer then took the Defiant for her own. Using the powerful Starship from the parallel universe, Hoshi soon took control and she was pronounced Empress of the Empire.
After the defeat of the rebellion, the Empire turned its attention towards the other races in the alpha and beta quadrants. The Klingons, the Romulans, the Cardassians, the Tholians, the Gorn, the Ferengi, the Xindi, and the Breen were the only major powers left that could stand against the Empire. The Klingons and the Romulans had a long-standing hatred for each other due to years of betrayal, and even though they hated the Terrans, they couldn't set aside their mistrust for each other to destroy the humans. The Romulans would stand alone and face down the Humans without help from anyone. In time, the Klingons would join with the Cardassians in an Alliance against the Terrans while the other races just sat back not wishing to get involved.
In 2267 members of the crew from the USS Enterprise, including Captain James T. Kirk, were accidentally transported to the mirror universe aboard the mirror version of the Enterprise, the ISS Enterprise. Before Kirk left, believing that the mirror Spock would one day become captain of the ISS Enterprise, he tried to plant seeds of doubt in Spock's mind. However, in this reality, Spock didn't succumb to Kirk's attempt to change the empire. The Terran Empire continued under the control of the descendants of Hoshi Sato. But even the great Sato family had enemies inside the empire, and in 2275, the Sato family was removed from power by Grand Fleet Admiral James Maxwell. The coup d'tat ended the rule of the Sato family who had been in power for well over a century. Maxwell proclaimed himself Emperor Maxwell the First after taking power. Emperor Maxwell started a program to rebuild Starfleet since years of battle against the rebellion left it weak, and if the empire was ever going to conquer the remaining enemies, it needed its forces to be ready.
An uneasy peace settled over the galaxy for almost a century. There were still battles between the major powers and the Empire, but all-out war was avoided. In 2368, war did break out once the Terran Empire was ready, and their target was the Romulan Star Empire. For the next five years, a bloody war raged between these two great powers, and by 2373, the Romulan Empire was ready to fall. The Romulans were going to make their last stand at a planet known as Galorndon Core where the bulk of their fleet would mass. The Fourth Fleet of the Terran Empire was sent out to destroy the remaining Romulan ships and pave the way towards the Romulan home worlds of Romulus & Remus. But inept leadership on the part of Admiral Stone, who was leading this mission, and by a number of captains who greatly underestimated the Romulans' will to survive caused the Terran Empire to suffer a bitter defeat when they outnumbered the Romulan ships two to one.
The Terran Empire sent the entire 4th fleet, consisting of 224 starships, to Galorndon Core, but only 87 made it back to Starbase 173. On the voyage back to Starbase 173, many of those who had been in command were locked up, some even killed by their own people. One of those locked up by his own crew was Captain Benton Maddox of the ISS Raptor, a Conqueror Class Attack Cruiser NCC-6472 carrying a crew of over 500 and an assault force of 150 MACO's (Military Assault Command Operations). These special troops were aboard each starship and served to protect the ship from intruders as well as being used as ground assault forces.
Captain Maddox quickly found himself under arrest by his first officer, Commander Mason Kane, who then locked him away before heading for Starbase 173 with the remaining ships. Emperor Maxwell the 2nd, the first born son of Maxwell the 1st, took power after his father's death in 2359 and was outraged over the defeat of his forces, which should have won against the Romulans. He ordered Admiral Stone put to death. Captain Maddox was stripped of his rank and command and thrown into prison. Commander Kane was promoted to captain of the ISS Raptor and given new orders: a secret invasion of the mirror universe Federation. This invasion was to gather information on the Federation's technology and bring back anything that the empire didn't have. The Federation had been so helpful in the past with the USS Defiant that the Emperor felt they could possibly have new weapons or updated shields that the Terran Empire hadn't discovered yet.
Captain Kane accepted this mission with a smile on his face. He knew that if they could bring back anything from the Federation, both he and the crew of the Raptor would be hailed as heroes of the empire. Kane left Admiral Grey's office on Starbase 173 and returned to his ship. The Raptor was currently being worked on to repair battle damage received during the fight at Galorndon Core. Losing this battle made the Terran Empire appear weak in the eyes of its enemies, something that couldn't be allowed to last. There was also some disturbing news which had come to Emperor Maxwell's attention a few months ago. A wormhole had been discovered in the Bajor System and this wormhole led to the Gamma Quadrant. The Klingon/Cardassian Alliance who had joined with the smaller power the Bajorans were in control of this gateway. The Emperor wanted this wormhole just as much as he had wanted the Romulans destroyed. Now with the Terran Empire looking very weak, he couldn't launch an assault on the Bajoran System or destroy the Romulans. This was his reasoning behind sending the Raptor into the mirror universes to find new technology. Emperor Maxwell the Second would have this wormhole, or it would be destroyed and no one would have it.
In a few hours, the Raptor was repaired and left Starbase 173. A device had been attached to the ship's Deflector Array on the inside and was controlled from the bridge. This device would open up an interdimensional gateway which would take the Raptor into Federation space, then bring them home once their mission was over. Captain Kane stood tall and proud in front of his crew as he told them the news of this glorious mission and what it meant to the Empire. Handsome and powerfully built, Kane was on the fast track to getting a ship of his own one day, and now that he was captain, he had finally gotten what he wanted. The women on board would be throwing themselves at him, such as Hoshi Sato herself, who had certainly fucked her way straight up to the top and become Empress. The entire crew was standing in the shuttle bay while Captain Kane spoke of the glorious mission. To Kane's left stood his new first officer, Commander Barton Baxter, who was human. To Kane's right stood Lieutenant Commander Dixon Webb, who was also human. Next to Webb stood Lieutenant Commander Tala Kalel Raioth, an Andorian female who served as Security Chief. She was called "Commander Tala" because Andorian names are not easy to pronounce. Standing next to Commander Baxter was Lieutenant Commander Martin Beech, who served as Chief Medical Officer aboard the Raptor. It was his job to make sure that the gateway device worked properly. Captain Kane placed his right fist over his chest before extending his arm outwards in front of his body." LONG LIVE THE EMPIRE! "This move and the words spoken were repeated by the crew.
Everyone returned to duty once word on their mission had been explained. The Raptor soon approached the location where they would use their new gateway device. All of the ship's power would have to be transferred to the device in order to open the doorway, then the ship would enter. Once on the other side in Federation space, the Raptor would begin looking for a ship or station that they could attack, overcome, and take over. After that, they would steal whatever information they could find in the computers and take prisoners. Once this was done, the Raptor would return to their universe with their prizes.
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Young faced and willing to do what it would take to get to the top, Lieutenant Mechanic Amanda Goldman watched as her new captain stood before her. As he was making his speech, she wondered what he would do if she ripped off her clothes and began to show him the many ways she could hide her tools of repair. Biting er lip, she shivered feeling her nipples press against her uniform shirt. God, she knew that Captain Kane would take control of the ship. Captain Maddox was a gross man. His breath always smelled terrible and he kissed like a Klingon with a cleft lip. Not that she would know. God, just thinking of the late Captains tongue licking and lapping at her teeth made her want to gag on the spot. However, she kept herself under control.
Amanda was a beautiful blonde who always kept her hair down. Her uniform was less than regulation. Her shirt ended a few millimeters below her breasts. Her skirt only started well down on her hips. Showing her hip bones and her full pierced navel. She was well known as a human with many exotic talents. She watched the captain with her blue eyes and longed to fall to her knees and polish his commanding rod. She grinned biting her red lips that begged to be kissed. She loved space, and loved to repair all she could. She also loved sex. In any way shape and form. She loved to be touched, cherished, but fucking was also fun too. She was quickly taken on board and used nightly by Captain Maddox who constantly swore to promote her but his promises were as impotent as his cock. She was not sad to see him go. She returned his salute and smiled "Long live the empire." She shouted. Turning, she went to Commander Webb to see if he had anything he wanted her to do.
Once teh crew returned duty, Lieutenant of the Medical Bay, Zerin a half vulcan half human stood watching teh captain. She walked over wearing a sexy tight outfit, she patted his arm. "Well done captain, but don't forget to take care of your health." She whispered in his ear and walked away with a sway of her hips. Her skin was slightly tanned and her hair black. She proudly displayed her vulcan ears with piercings up and down them. She had been cast off of her home planet by her mother because she was the child of an affair. She had been sold to the highest bidder. She ruthlessly killed her owner and made her way as she put herself through medicine. She smiled thinking of the new captain. Highly perferred to the last captain. The last captain was quick to rage, anger, drink, then rash decisions. It was no secret that Zerin thought of the captain as sloppy. Not like the new captain. Handsome and talented.</s>
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It had been a year since Loki had tried to take over the earth. Bruce had spent three of those months in the middle east, doing what he could to help the fallen innocents. Two months more was spent in the Amazon, dealing with a mass viral outbreak. A month after that, he was horrified to realize that Loki had returned to Earth and was... staying, at Tony's Tower. From what he understood, talking to Tony through an untraceable phone Tony had given him, Loki had been undergoing severe 'mental assistance' which had hit a 'road block' because the 'healers' hated Loki as much as everyone else did. So Loki stayed on earth, attended daily therapy sessions with a woman who came to the Tower instead of making Loki venture out where he really didn't want to go. Bruce often talked to Tony, at least once a week, sometimes the two of them would science orgasm over each other because no one else could possibly understand. A few weeks ago, Loki had started taking part in these discussions, at Tony's urging and Bruce was delighted to find another who understood big words as well as he and Tony did. It was weird to hear Loki speak with such a mellow, calm voice, but Bruce was delighted to find out that Loki was settling in well, was on a new 'chill pill' and was having therapy every three days.
He was in Argentina dealing with a Pox outbreak when S.H.I.E.L.D found him, only two weeks ago. He had been stunned, and completely and utterly pissed to realize that Phil Coulson was still alive and he may, or may not have destroyed a small town by Hulking Out. He was informed that he was going to be moved into Stark Tower for 'national security' once he came to, dressed in soft sweatpants and sitting in a quin-jet. A quick run through his memories of the Hulk out found him laughing hysterically as he realized that Coulson had tried to sedate the Hulk and failed and actually broke poise to run away like a sissy. Of course, everyone was a bit of a sissy when it came to the Hulk but that was besides the point. Bruce didn't bother to be annoyed by it, he'd had an almost entire year of freedom and had honestly been missing people and Tony's annoying habit of teasing him to see if he could make Bruce go Green. So, a full year after Loki had tried and failed to take over the world, Bruce found himself being herded into Stark Tower, still with that A hanging off of it, making it the Avengers Tower. Though, from what he understood only Tony and himself where the only Avengers actually living there... so far.
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Though Tony and Loki indeed were the only permanent residents of the tower, others came and went as they wanted, even if Tony had no idea whether it was simply to keep an eye on him and Loki, just in case he was teaming up for the super villain tag team of the year, or simply because they needed a break from SHIELD, since he knew-even if Steve refused to tell him where he was living- that even the good Captain was staying in barracks. Which disgusted him on a level that made him cry sometimes. Since he did have a whole tower outfitted for the Avengers, should they decide to stay instead of just stopping by to say hi. He hoped that with Bruce coming to live with him, he could get the others to come, since it meant that he'd have someone besides them to science orgasm over. Though Loki was indeed a good outlet some days for that urge. Even if the man sometimes stared at him oddly for spouting off the newest engineering thing he was doing.
Bruce!Brucie!Bruce-bear, it's amazing to see you. Welcome to the tower. Tony grinned manically-okay, maybe he had gone too long without sleep and a little too much coffee as he waited for one of his best friends-even if they hadn't seen each other in person since New York- to arrive. Is he always like this?the dark-haired woman looked up from the tablet she was working on, slanting a glance at Coulson as she watched Tony bounce towards the Hulk, looking vaguely worried about the man's presence, but like Coulson, the woman had long practiced simply letting events wash over her and able to project a outward look of calm. Erin Roberts looked as calm and collected as the senior agent, though she was nervous about being in the tower, and heartily wished she'd managed to track down Clint before coming over. At least then she'd have someone to distract her from her nerves about meeting Bruce, as Coulson tended to just give her that look that said be calm without distractions.</s>
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And then, there was light.
Wanda Maximoff groaned as her guts churned and the cool kiss of the hardwood floor brought her back to her senses. Her wild mane of auburn hair was a mess and she felt worse than that time she stupidly thought her powers could allow her to drink She-Hulk under the table. She tried to rise up off the floor, THAT was a bad idea as it made the hall start spinning and sent stabbing pains through her head.
"What... Why... What did I do?" she asked herself as she forced herself to try and recollect what she'd done and how she'd ended up in this state. Another mistake, as memories of the tragedy of the recent past flooded into her mind making her sob and weep.
"Gone... So many gone..." Wanda remembered and grief washed over her again. She shook and rocked a little as the pain that accompanied the memory of the self-sacrifice of so many Avengers hit her again.
"Their bravery ... Should be honored, not mourned... But... So alone..." she lamented silently as she let her head fall to the floor again wishing for the oblivion of unconsciousness to take her away from the pain in the present.
"Do SOMETHING," Wanda admonished herself and a small voice in her head responded with, "I did." What though? That eluded her, but feeling the way she did now, the weakness that suffused her body, heart and soul, she knew it was something big involving both her Magic and her mutant power that drained her almost to the point of joining her fallen comrades. The heady smell of potent mystical herbs clung to her skin while Chaos crackled through her aura, the likes of which she'd never experienced. She should have been alarmed by this, knew she should be working to discipline her mind and cleanse her aura of the lingering energies about her but she just couldn't be bothered. Just breathing in and out, in and out, was a Herculean labor and about all she could handle at the moment.
So the Scarlet Witch just lay there, in the middle of the 3rd floor hall in the Avenger's Mansion, suffering from events both recent and past. She would get up, go to her room... Eventually. For now though, she was content to let the day pass her by as she sprawled out on the floor in an ungainly heap.
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"Hey, there you are!" The voice was a familiar one to Wanda no doubt, one she had been hearing for years since she started out as an Avenger. Of course the tone seemed a little lighter than normal... almost... affectionate?
Carol Danvers however, to most of the world, was normally far from affectionate. A straight-laced military woman in and out of costume, who only ever became jovial after drinking enough whiskey to drown a horse. She was certainly different to what Wanda was used to.
She stood in the hallway, barefoot with her blonde locks looking rather more bedraggled than usual. She was tall, and as was the case with most women in the super-business she managed to be a perfect mix of feminine beauty and athletic strength. It was strange how she could have such strong muscles and the curves of a supermodel... but then again this was a woman who could punt a tank from New York to Timbuktu so it was far from the strangest thing about the Kree-human hybrid.
Carol's choice of dress was certainly very different too: Wanda's 'Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters' football jersey, a deep purple shade that looked more like a dress on Wanda but fit tight to Carol's body. It left little too the imagination with how the hem showed off her pussy.
"Jeez, one night of fucking and you're passing out in the hall? That's not the Wanda Maximoff that stole my heart." Carol reached down and hoisted Wanda up by her hand quite effortlessly, swiftly pulling her in and lightly pecking at the mutant's lips.
Something VERY fishy was going on here...</s>
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Things were quite different in the wizarding world now that Voldemort had made his last stand and died. The world was more at peace, and although it took them time, they became more accepting. Especially after the Potter children started at Hogwarts. With Lily Potter being sorted into the house of the snake, everyone had to change their views. They wouldn't dare think of the wizarding world's princess as anything but a proper young lady who had nothing but good intentions. They would only be partly correct, however, because she was still a Slytherin. Which meant she was a sly, devious little girl who had her mind set on nothing but the best things that she could get. That meant she attracted certain kinds of people into her life.
She had befriended Draco Malfoy's son, Scorpius, sometime in her first year, and they had been good friends for a long while. Though they both developed some feelings for each other, but for some reason just never had the balls to say anything about it. They just kept the friendship there, though somehow they both knew they wanted more. He was also in Slytherin with her, of course, just like his father. So of course he was in the same class as her when they were told there had been an accident at the ministry and they needed several new batches of poly-juice potion. So they called upon the current seventh years, the graduating class, to help them with it by being assigned a project. Lily didn't entirely like the idea because as a newly eighteen year old girl, she wanted to spend her summer at the beach, in a bikini, flirting with guys. And she was sure Scorpius didn't want to waste his new of-age status on work.
But things didn't seem too bad when they were both partnered up so she was to stay with him at the Malfoy Manor while they worked on the potion. The travel from Hogwarts wasn't too bad and neither was her introduction for the first time to Mr. Draco Malfoy and Mrs. Astoria Malfoy. Surprising how she was just meeting with them when she had been friends with their son for so long. She was just making herself at home in the guest room, hanging up her clothes when she saw Scorpius at her door. She turned and smiled at him, and she said sweetly, "Hey, Scorp. Just finishing putting my stuff away. Then after that we can do something fun?" She heard they had an indoor pool. She was definitely looking forward to that.
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"Scorpius really didn't understand the irony of being best friends with Potter's daughter," he said, taking in her body. "But then again, he didn't take the time to worry about the past." To Scorpius, it was all about the present, and he was one to take things in stride. A bit of a bad boy even by Slytherin standards, Scorpius had learned a thing or two from his father about the way of the snake and about generally looking down on the other houses. He'd done a splendid job of that throughout school and had managed to stay out of trouble, aside from dark arts, which he excelled at.
It had been a shock to everyone when she broke the family line by being sorted into Slytherin. Once on his side, Scorpius befriended her almost immediately. She'd always been cute, but over the years, she grew to be a sexy eighteen-year-old. Scorpius felt like an idiot for not having made a move on her. They were both in their prime and it was clear they were both attracted to one another. Unfortunately, things had never reached that level.
When it was mentioned they'd be partnered up, Scorp jumped at the chance to have Lily over his place. He knew his parents would be fine with it. Although they'd never met Lily before, they knew she was nothing like her parents and welcomed her like she was family. Lily's stay was still pretty fresh, but Scorpius hadn't thought once about their assignment. All he could think about was some much-needed alone time with Lily.
He'd already shown her to the guest room and had given her time to unwind before returning to the door to see if she'd settled in. "Hey, Lily," he responded when she turned to him. "Yeah. Fun sounds good," he said simply, his mind wandering as his eyes took in her body. The two of them often had fun doing the most mundane things, but Scorpius was eager to up the ante this summer. He wanted to see if they could take their relationship to the next level. It was about time. They'd been friends for years and the sexual tension was reaching a fever pitch.
"What are you thinking?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow as he took a few steps inside the guest room.</s>
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TJ Hammond... how would one describe him? He was the son of the would-be president and also of the former president. The man was all over the place, always in the spotlight. What people didn't know though was that he was a vampire. Not just any vampire though, but vampire royalty. He was born in 1589 to his mother, Elaine Barrish Hammond, and his father, Bud Hammond. Course, that was not their name then, when they were living in Romania. He and his twin brother were always causing trouble, but TJ more so, with his love of blood and drugs. While normally it would not affect a vampire, he was not into anything made in the human world.
No, his drug of choice was the blood of fae royalty, and one in particular. Krystal Kobayashi, who was the first in line for the throne of the dark court. She was a very mellow girl, having loved TJ since the moment she met him, but was too shy to tell him. They had been friends for centuries, but it had only been just recently that the pretty fae had learned the vampire prince liked women as well. She wouldn't get her hopes up though, having never found anyone who hadn't broken her heart. Even when she had been with TJ's twin, Douglas, she could never seem to make him see. "TJ, why don't you see I love you!?" She would write endlessly in her diary, not knowing that the cunning prince did feel the same. At least not until the night of the annual newborn ball. The night where the long-standing blood ties between fae and vampires were almost broken.
Yes, the newborn ball. A ceremony and dance held every year to induct the new vampires and fae into their chosen coven or court. It had long been a tradition between the two races, but this year would change everything, becoming a bloodbath by accident. Newborns are very strong, and very thirsty, so they are generally fed as much as they can drink before the ceremony. This year was no different until one of the fae dignitaries cut himself on a knife. After that it became an all out bloodbath, and Krystal and TJ got separated. Unfortunately for the pretty fae princess though, she got a bloody nose. She was quick and eluded most of the newborns, until she was cornered in the library. "TJ!" She screamed at the top of her lungs, never having screamed that loud in her very long life. In a flash he was there, standing in front of her protectively. "Stop. If you hurt this woman, you all die. She. Is. Mine." He growled out, and the newborns backed away. It was physically impossible for him to be disobeyed. When they were alone in the library, TJ stroked her cheek. "Oh god Krys.. I almost lost you.." There was fear in his grey blue eyes, until he kissed her long and hard. Now she had her answer. He really did feel the same.
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Krys? The soft lilting growl sounded through the room, warning of who was going to walk in the door within moments, and indeed, the voice was followed by the appearance of the seelie sidhe princess, the warrior princess that neither court of fae liked, but relied on to be as hard and nasty as they needed her to be. While no one would admit that they needed the huntress, she was the sword their enemies were threatened with, the utterly ruthless warrior who was all sharp edges and diamond-sharp anger.
Because despite being fae royal, the last princess of the seelie sidhe, the last true blood royal of that court, Glorianna Belladonna was hated by her own people, both the unseelie and seelie courts despised her, and the real reason why was a closely guarded secret that no one but Glorianna knew why, but all fae sensed something was different about their royal. So they hated her for it.
While she was tall, lithe with hair the color of new blood spilled under moonlight, when she walked through the door it would take a moment to realize she was actually wearing clothes under the wash of blood making her skimpy black dress cling to curves that weren't usually obvious, her blood-red hair looking even more bloody, leaving tracks of blood dripping down her face, she really had taken a bath in it. Raising a hand to wipe the blood away, she raised her sword, responding to TJ's presence without really being aware. Back off, vampire.</s>
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Mia Wilde's world simply fell apart at the seams when her father ran off. It wasn't unusual to not see him for days on end, being as how he kept to his research, and remained downstairs in his lab at all hours...and yet, for him to disappear without a trace...? It broke her heart. Their relationship never was the best, but lately, it was improving...getting to the point where they could get along. Dinner was no longer spent alone... in the early hours of morning, she'd wake up to the smell of bacon... Yes, their little family was healing after Mrs. Darius Wilde's tragic death. One day, though...the man went down into his lab...and it felt like he never came back out. At first...she didn't worry about it too much. On the fifth day, though...she opened the door, just to give him lunch...and he was gone.
The answers came soon enough, however. It wasn't long until large, strange men appeared at the door, demanding money that she didn't have. Apparently... Darius Wilde fell onto hard times, and borrowed money in order to fund his research on Life Fibers...leading him to debt. No one was buying his research, and so he was left with no other options but to run. Not that reasoning it made things any better... He couldn't even tell her that money was becoming a problem. So here she was, left alone...with an empty house, no means to pay for his debt...and no other choice but to see what she could sell. That is what prompted the girl to venture down into his lab. Question is... well, is there anything of value there? Their lives used to be humble, not in any way extravagant or luxurious... In fact, being a One-Star, they lived in the slums... the lowest of the low.
After swallowing the lump in her throat, Mia extended a hand...the fingers wrapping around the knob, and giving it a firm twist. Her skin prickled when the door groaned in protest, however, nothing jumped out at her...nothing snarled, or anything of the sort. It was all just part of her overactive imagination. Relieved, she opened the door, light piercing through the darkness below...dust rising to make itself known...and it wasn't long before sneezes forced the girl to cover her nose. Strands of dark red fell over her eyes, a hand lifting to brush the pesky strands behind an ear. Her eyes lifted...and the light revealed that one was a soft, mystical blue... while the other was a pale, frosty grey. It was a birth defect, heterochromia, to be exact. Most people couldn't meet her gaze because of it... and so, more often than not, she'd let hair fall over her eyes... so no one would feel obligated to look. It was better, really... because she didn't really know how to respond whenever she sees someone looking at her with contempt, or pity, or... whatever.
Mia cleared her throat one last time, before venturing on. There was dust over everything...over test tubes, over an old computer she remembers Darius working on not too long ago...over crinkled papers and various pieces of cloth. Her hand reached out, the tips touching upon soft fabric...the likes of which she's never felt before.
What the...?Curious despite herself, Mia shifted closer, and found that it wasn't simply a piece of cloth...but rather, some sort of outfit.
What is this...?Unable to see because of how dark it was, she traced along what details she could pick out...and picked it up from the dusty table. More swirls and coils of dust rose...of course, causing her to sneeze again.
I should take it upstairs...to get a closer look at it...That decided, she draped the fabric over her arm, and began making her way back up the stairs. Each step let out an eerie groan of protest...but she ignored it this time.
It was a relief, to be out of his creepy, abandoned lab...not to mention away from the dust. Wiping her nose, Mia walked into the living room, letting her eyes adjust for a moment while she set down...whatever it is, across the table. Finally...she studied the material, and surprise played across her mismatched eyes.
What was Dad doing, with a schoolgirl uniform...?the girl thought, her fingers fiddling with the scarf. It was pretty, she'll give it that...what with its soft, muted grey color, and its blue accents. The pleated skirt was a bit short, in her opinion...but most skirts are nowadays. What did she expect? A finger moving to the front, quick pain slashed across the pad, causing her to hiss with both surprise and pain.
"Ow..." Sucking on her finger, Miami carefully began pulling the pin out...unaware that the blood along her palm was dripping down her wrist. It wasn't long before numerous drops fell, very...very close to the uniform in question. Once the pin was removed, she checked her finger. "I should get a bandaid real quick..." she murmured under her breath, already heading towards the kitchen. The momentum caused a few drops of blood to land on a grey sleeve.
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He could remember a pair of hands reaching out and grasping his cloth, sewing it together. Slowly wrapping up consciousness. Giving him life, and then sight, and then understanding, and then words. And then nothing, nothing whatsoever, for the longest of times. Then a light trickle, a single drop of blood, sweet and warm and nutritious, and his eyes snap open, dark grey and black circles wrapped around one another in a simulacrum of a human gaze. Just enough blood to wake him, to remind him of how hungry he is, how much he needs something to keep going... And he all but hurls himself at the woman he can see nearby, sleeves wrapping around her neck, wordlessly grasping at her clothes, striving to pull them away from her form, regardless of tears or rips or broken buttons. He snarls wordlessly again, grasping at her collar, tearing the fabric and trying to swivel himself around her, pressing his sleeves against the buttons of her shirt.
"Wear me, woman! Now!" he commands, in a low, dark voice, grey and black gaze fixated upon her face. "Wear me, feed me, make me yours, but let me be worn!" he growls, fabric parting, almost 'tearing', but reaffixing itself, the skirt snugly around her hips in half an instant, before he has to turn back around, trying to open himself and engulf her with his fabric.</s>
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Hermione traveled as quietly as she could. Her brown curls were tucked neatly behind her head in a braid, and her hazel eyes searched the ground before her. Everything that she had seen so far was dark and unidentifiable. Sneaking around a private home meant no 'lumos', and therefore, she couldn't see. In fact, the brunette was lucky she hadn't tripped and broken an arm at this point. Turning another corner, the pale figure glanced around the corridor. She needed to find the room where Harry told her a passageway was located. But at this point, she and Ron had been running in opposite directions for half an hour, and nothing had been discovered.
Sighing, the young adult pressed against a wall, holding her wand tightly against her side. There was a window in the perpendicular hallway, and light was streaming through it and onto the marble floor. A tension arose in Hermione with the newly found light, and now she seemed quite frozen. Harry had made such a fuss about staying dark and hidden that the idea of running through white light petrified her. Taking in a few deep breaths, Hermione turned and ran through the new light, and straight into a doorway frame.
SMACK!
Right against the wooden hinge was where the girl's cheek hit. "Agh!" She muttered, and a few curses escaped her quiet breath. Stamping her foot on the ground, she raised a delicate hand to her cheek, and felt a few drops of blood. "Ugh... Gross..." Rolling her eyes, she quickly raised her wand and whispered the age old healing spell. Soon her cut was a scab, and within moments an almost invisible mark. Wiping her blood on her dark jeans, she decided to continue on with more focus.
And so, in the dark, Hermione wandered on through the halls of Malfoy Manor, confused and alone.
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While she had been doing her best to sneak and remain undetected by the owners of the manor, she had failed miserably. For the past 15 minutes she had been watched by Lucius Malfoy rather closely. He was not in the Dark Lord's favor and capturing any of Potter's little friends would help. But then as he watched her wandering around in the dark, bumping things and even running right into a door, he decided that he wanted her for himself. She was young, probably only in her 6th year at Hogwarts and she was rather adorable.
But after watching her a little longer he decided that he couldn't wait any longer. He pointed his wand at her and muttered Stupefy. The red light struck Hermione hard in the back and with another flick of his wand she was bound and being dragged across the floor by magical rope. Soon she was being dragged towards the basement.
"Well well Granger. You thought that you could sneak into my Manor? We knew where all of you were the moment you got here. I am sure Potter and your Weasley friend are both already dead. But you have a big idea for you. A very particular form of torture."</s>
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The past several years had been peaceful but slow for a lack of better. It was, in that sense, a double-edged sword. Everyone who knew of the incidents including the "Midnight Channel" were no doubt glad it was all over. This did, admittedly, include the now eighteen year old Naoto Shirogane. However, in the midst of everything coming to a halt, this included her own line of work. It was slightly awkward, but she had remained in the police force with Ryotaro Dojima. Then again, maybe it had been for the best given she just recently finished her high school education and was thus now graduated and looking for a more permanent job.
Regardless, there had been several things which stayed altered.
Yu, Dojima's nephew, was still gone. Tohru Adachi had been behind bars for his linkings with all the crimes. Everything was as it should be. And yet, Naoto still couldn't help but almost feel like something was missing, even after just graduating from high school. Not from within Inaba, mind you. Oh no. Rather, she felt like something from her own self was missing.
Many people tried to encourage her to relax and take it easy rather than be so on edge lately. And the young detective had tried to heed the words. Truly, she had. But the task was so much easier said than done. It came with her workaholic nature and the fact that she had finished school was currently wasn't at all helping her feel any less restless.
"Still, they are right." She mused softly to herself, glancing up towards the ceiling of her residence. "May as well enjoy the free time while you can."
Break? What's that?
An inward scoff echoed throughout the young woman's head. But she knew her mind had a good point. Words like 'break' and 'vacation' didn't easily exist in Naoto's mindset. The revelation alone made her sigh and simultaneously groan.
Standing and getting to her feet, she began to head into her kitchen. A slight frown crossed her face. "Well ... that's one thing I guess." She decided, giving herself an affirmative nod as she closed the refrigerator door. Now that she had a new mission in mind, Naoto had somewhat of an idea on how to spend at least this day. Even if the task was simple in concept, it was still essential nonetheless.
According to her findings - or lack thereof - she needed to go shopping. Heading back into her room, she grabbed her wallet. Yes, wallet. Purses were too easy to lose or get stolen. A wallet, Naoto had found, was far more organized and easier to handle. Then again, she was much more like a tomboy as opposed to the stereotypical female.
Slipping the wallet into one of the front pockets of her blue jeans, she began to head out, stopping as her eyes caught her cell phone. It seemed redundant. While she did still remember all the others from the Investigation Team; Yu, Chie, Yukiko, Kanji, Teddie, and Yosuke, poor Naoto had never been good with social interactions. It was another thing many had encouraged her to work on but was also a much easier said than done task.
Still, her head wound up shaking in a no direction. It may be a mistake but she shouldn't be that long, not enough to actually need it. Her eyes then trailed up to her keys instead and pocketed those away. And with that, she opened her front door, closing and locking it after finding herself out in the streets and in view of the public.
As the sun hit her face, a hand raised to shield her dark orbs. While summer was her favorite season, she did wish that sometimes the sun wouldn't try to seem as if it were attempting to blind her. After her sight adjusted, she began to walk towards the Central Shopping District. Not that Junes wasn't fun to visit every now and again but she had to make funds last. Not like money grew on trees, after all.
All the while, Naoto pondered on her own future. It was so tempting to try for a more permanent Criminal Justice job. But should she go for it? Or was there another line of work she could be equally good at?
Isn't this what college is for? To help you figure all of this out?
But the mere thought of how muchthatwould cost made Naoto cringe, groan, then sigh softly.
"... We'll get to that bridge when it arrives," she finally decided, continuing her trek towards the Central Shopping District.
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Kanji Tatsumi
With the conclusion of the Midnight Channel murder case came a sort of clarity for Kanji Tatsumi. There came a time after the dust had settled - with Adachi rotting behind bars, Yu-senpai back home in the city, and all of his friends drifting back into their ordinary routines or breaking out on their own paths - when Kanji realized a few things. He wasn't sure why he had never made these realizations before, but it had all come together at once.
1. He had friends who had seen him at his best and at his worst, more than he could even say for his mother. Friends for life, the sort that came from sharing blood and sweat and tears.
2. He was Kanji Tatsumi, goddamn it, and everything that implied.
3. Anyone who didn't like either of the first two facts were free to get bent.
Those thoughts kept him buoyed for a couple of years, but Chie, Yousuke, and Yukiko all graduated before him and Rise and Naoto had their own jobs to deal with that kept them busy - Rise across the country and Naoto in her own little crime-solving bubble. With Yousuke working his way up the track to manager, Yukiko officially taking over the inn, and Chie busting her butt to become a police officer, Kanji was left sort of out in the cold.
Halfway through his senior year, he'd decided to do something about that. His mom was in decent health and didn't need any help running the textile shop - even with the demand of the little dolls he made in his spare time. So he got another job - it had taken some convincing, but Daidara had finally taken an apprentice.
He'd had to smooth over the whole "beating up a shit ton of would-be gangsters with a shield" thing and prove to the old man that he believed in the artistry of blacksmithing -- something the old Kanji never could have done. He made little delicate works of metal art as well as big, bulky decorative shields and the like, though he still had a ways to go, but during the summer after graduation he had time to indulge that particular time sink.
Besides, having Kanji around had some unexpected benefits for old Daidara.
As Naoto traipsed through the Central Shopping District, there was a clamor coming from Daidara Metalworks.
"Yo! Get the hell back here! Drop it and I won't kick your ass!" Kanji could be heard yelling. He thought it was rather diplomatic of him, really. The way it looked was a little different.
A second year was sprinting down the street with a poorly concealed knife under his shirt, his expression scared shitless as Kanji chased him down. He had... well, clearly the past couple of years had been good for him, in prime physical condition that was only shown off by his shirt -- what had once been a long-sleeved shirt with an elaborate skull motif had had its sleeves ripped off at the shoulders, leaving bare, glistening arms free... one of which just happened to be wrapped around the waist of another second year, carried like a football and looking rather sick from the whole experience.
"Got ya!" Kanji shouted as he darted forward, snagging the second year by the collar, the youth's legs flying out from underneath him as his collar met the immovable object that was Kanji Tatsumi's grip, landing on his butt as the pilfered knife landed on the ground.
"Tch. Buncha stupid wannabe bikers -- don't need to be messing around with knives. 'Specially stolen ones; they're a hell of a lot sharper than those pocket knives," Kanji berated (with the slightest note of pride over the quality of the pilfered knife), sounding almost... responsible as he berated the two kids in the middle of the street. They weren't even that much younger than he was -- he'd clearly had a chance to mature and the fact that he was a half foot taller than either of them certainly didn't hurt matters.</s>
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Zack yawned as he walked for seven hours, taking a hell out of him. It was troublesome when you felt this sore, but he always thought that he would get used to it. Especially when traveling for three years. Traveling on foot naturally kept him in shape. He wore basic traveling shoes, black shorts and a black vest over a white shirt, carrying a good amount of pockets for convenience. He had a pokball hanging around his neck, right before you would come across his calm expression. Some facial hair was present, as if he recently trimmed it. However, the same could not be said for his curly fro, as wild as one would expect. His brown eyes showed disappointment, as he wasn't feeling well.
"Maybe I should take it easy and just rest more," Zack suggested to himself. He sighed as he crossed his legs while sitting down under a tree. After giving himself a minute, he decided to pull out lunch. "Hmmm...should I cook or be lazy?"
Zack had a few options, but he wanted to eat before feeding his own pokmon. He gave it some more thought before deciding to just eat a cold-cut sandwich with some chips. He placed his bag on the ground and placed his food on it. He suddenly realized that he had nothing to drink.
"Oh come on!" he whined in annoyance. "I swear that I brought two liters of juice! Fuck me..." Zack groaned as he grabbed his empty water bottle, which was strapped to the side of his bag. At least, he didn't need to go far to get water; there was a steady stream not a few yards away. Thus, he crawled over and took his time gathering fresh cold water.
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The trees around him rustled softly with a light breeze, and occasional small pokemon scurried too and fro. However, as Zack moved, a pair of deep red eyes watched him move, a pokemon watching him curiously. Each time a tree rustled, the owner of said eyes would dart from one bush to another with very little sound before Zack sat down at the base of a tree. As he brought out things to eat, the pokemon paused behind a bush and watched him through the trees as he pulled out a sandwich and some chips.
For a long moment, the pokemon was unsure what to do. She wanted something to eat and this trainer had something that appealed to her. Hearing Zack speak, the pokemon paused as he groaned and made his way over to a steady stream that wasn't too far away. With a soft growl to herself, she crept out and hurried over to where his food was and began sniffing at the sandwich and chips. Now that it was out of the bushes, it was clear the pokemon was actually an Umbreon, which was actually rather rare to come across in the wild.
Her black fur seemed to draw in the light around her while the golden yellow rings on her body stood out brightly against the black. As she sniffed the food, the bag of chips rustled just enough to be heard from the stream. She felt her stomach growl and she tried to decide what to eat while the trainer had his back turned.</s>
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Ike & Selune
It had been a feat that no one believed possible, including the leader of the Greil Mercenaries himself, Ike. The recent incident between the goddesses Yune and Ashera, as well as the Tower of Guidance, had all been completely resolved. All the chaos and disorder that had been contributing to those three very major factors had been ended. Now, peace had reigned over the continent of Tellius. Many of his comrades had insisted he leave; not permanently, of course. The idea was more akin to a vacation, a very long one at that rate. To say that Ike had been incredibly reluctant at first was quite the understatement. Still, everyone - Soren and Titania especially - had all insisted he not only needed it but deserved it.
Ike had thought long and hard on this and decided that, even if the thought of leaving his home nation was an odd if not unnerving one, everyone within the mercenaries was otherwise correct. Before the goddesses and Tower had been calmed, there had been so many other things he and the other fighters had endured. It was a miracle in itself no one among his group had gone insane, truthfully.
One long year had passed since he parted ways and took his temporary vacation. Now, Ike was more than eager to return. At the moment, he was specifically heading towards Felirae, an area within the region of Crimea. The boat he had been riding on in order to return finally bumped gently against the soil. A soft, content sigh passed Ike's parted lips.
"Finally," he murmured as he stepped off the water-crossing form of transportation and back onto land once more, "you're home again."
Not that the vacation had been bad, mind you. In fact, it had been refreshing to get away from all the bandits or other forms of violence and chaos. At the same time, however, Ike had felt .. lost. He had everything a man could want; glory, some of the most powerful blades in all of existence, equally strong friends and comrades. Yet, despite the long list of things he had, the mercenary couldn't help but feel as if he were still missing something.
He paused after taking a few steps off the boat, trying quickly to think on what it may or may not be. When no immediate answer came to him, he gently waved a hand through the air.
"Probably nothing," he decided. Or, if it was, he'd figure it out later on. Until then, there was no sense dwelling on it.
The faintest hint of a smile crossed his face as the familiar sight of trees and sounds of nature caught his ears and eyes. But perhaps more than the scenery, he had dearly missed his friends. With the hopes of being able to have a reunion soon enough, his footsteps quickened as he continued to guide himself through the forest and towards the city of Felirae.
Meanwhile, within the woods of Arbor, another figure was having their own trek through the forest. Were anyone nearby, they would hear frantic gasps and pants. The sounds alone would have easily spelled out they belonged to a woman, one with a mission.
The past several days had not been friendly to her. She didn't understand why, but all she knew were the facts. And as they were, soldiers from Crimea had been chasing her.
"You're cursed," the eighteen-year-old maiden insisted. "You always have been! What other logic is there?!"
As the woman began to think more on the possibility, her fists clenched angrily. She had always appeared to have an aura of sorts around her. Even from the days of her childhood, she had been stared at. But it wasn't her chest like many would assume; well, not always. No. The most dominant areas, actually, were the odd marks upon her shoulders.
They themselves were an odd set of, as far as she could assume, tattoos. But what really made them weird was she never asked for them. So, essentially, she had managed to deduce she had been born with them.
But that didn't make sense at all to the mage. People were born with other things. Tattoos? She'd never heard of such a thing. There had been many times Selune had tried to insist she just misjudged the markings upon her shoulders. But no matter how many times she looked at them, the wind mage couldn't call them anything else. They were certainly not birthmarks, cuts, bruises, nothing else that would seem appropriate. No, they were definitely tattoos.
A frustrated sigh elicited from the young mage's lips as her head shook from side to side, causing some raven locks to fall in front of her face.
"The hell with that! None of that matters for now!" she reminded herself, moving the few bangs that had fallen in front of her blue eyes away as she glanced behind her.
From what she could see - or couldn't, at that rate - Selune seemed to be in the clear. Had she finally lost those damned soldiers who had been so persistent on chasing her down?
"I hope so," she weakly murmured, beginning to slow her run down as the pace began to shift to a light jog instead. "Stubborn bastards. If they wanna arrest me, they should say what I've done wrong. Damned fools ... "
But even if only for now, she appeared to be safe which was good. She didn't want her instincts to act up once more. And with how tired poor Selune was, she would not run. No, she was in no state to. If anyone tried to approach her in an aggressive way, her magic would begin to act up on its own. Normally, this wouldn't be bad. But without having been properly trained, the winds would no doubt get out of control. They had done so once before. Push was coming to shove, as the old saying went. Not only would the winds be stronger than last time, they may not stop unless someone made her, be it in the form of knocking her unconscious or via some other method.
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Katlynn finally worked up the courage to leave that boring village of hers. She had dreamed of this every day since her mother died and left her alone with the other villagers who tended to avoid her. It had been so hard taking care of herself when no one wanted to sell anything to her! So she learned to hunt, she learned the basics of survival...she had studied the map of Tellius time and time again and today she just felt ready!
It might also have to do with the fact that she had been chased out of her mother's home by an angry mob. She really hadn't done anything, but the village had been missing a few things and they automatically assumed she was responsible! Just because she had found a band of no good vagabonds and stole from them, did not mean she stole from her own people! Well, she supposed it was fair of them to judge her after she suddenly got a pouch filled with gold pieces. Still...they were ready to chase her away and they needed very little reason to do so.
Why? Well, she was different. She was the daughter of a king! A Raven King! Her mother always told her stories about her father and how handsome and charming he was. But his people needed him, and he flew away without ever coming back. Perhaps she was just hoping that if she stayed there long enough, he'd come for her.
"Girl!" A voice pierced in the air, and she turned. Huh...a trio of familiar-looking bandits. Oh...she should probably take out her bow right now. "Don't move. You look like someone who took something from us a few nights ago...We're going to inspect you now..." They gave her perverted stares, and that was her cue. She immediately drew her bow and an arrow, which caused them to immediately run after her. Ah, she was no good at close range...
Soren had been traveling for some time now. He felt like he was lost. Perhaps he should take out the map and look at it again? Sometimes this happened when he had his nose in his books while he walked. He stopped in his tracks when he heard someone. A girl. Gasping and panting for air. Hmm. Should he attempt to investigate? Ike would probably do so. It was, after all, probably the right thing to do. And the mage really liked to follow the ideals of his former leader. Well, he was still their leader...but he was gone. Enjoying some peace and quiet from all the political affairs involving the nations.
Hmm. More noises? He heard the sound of clattering armor in the distance, and he turned to face the direction of sound. A few soldiers approached him, their weapons pointed threateningly at the Sage. "You! Have you seen a girl with black hair running around here? And strange tattoos on her shoulders?"
It didn't take a genius to know who they were looking for. Though something told Soren not to tell them where she was. He could be helping a criminal for all he knew, if he decided to lead them away. Still...he didn't really have any loyalty to these rowdy-looking soldiers with their sticks pointed at him. He pointed the opposite direction of where he had heard the girl. Just because. They immediately left him alone, and once they were out of sight he started walking towards the direction of that pathetic sounding voice.
"Ah. Found you." Soren knew she was there, her back pressed against a tree. "You know, you should probably be more quiet if you want to hide."</s>
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T'challa, regent king of Wakanda, had been entrusted to watch over an artifact of omnipotent potential, the infinity gauntlet. He was more than aware of its abilities having witnessed the mad titan's grab for cosmic control. To an ordinary man, to have such a thing in his possession would have been nigh impossible without succumbing to its seductive thrall, power lends to the corrupt, and absolute power corrupted absolutely. Still, a part of him wanted to test this hypothesis. T'challa was anything but ordinary, but even he was not immune from temptation. He tried it on, on a whim to see...and he found that the gauntlet hadn't changed his mentality...but it lead to a sort of awakening of the consciousness. In his first hour, he went about exploring the outer reaches of the universe in search of finding a common string among the various parallel universes, less than a day had passed coming into possession of the infinity gauntlet and he had already been corrupted by its power.
He had found his answer...or so he thought. His first target was none other than Natasha Romanov, an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. and fellow Avenger. It was around 3 or so in the late hour when he would make his unannounced visitation to her quarters aboard the Hellicarrier. T'challa observed the sleeping beauty - mid-sleep in a chair positioned across from her bed. He was certain that she would stir from her rest any minute now. He needed to see her, interact with her. A part of him wanted to resist his true motives for turning up there of all places. He sat there with a sort of distressed look etched on his features "Natasha?...I didn't mean to wake you from this hour but I need you right now...Help me, won't you?-" He was certain she was intelligent enough to put the pieces together, with the infinity gauntlet fixed to his hand, showing up in her bedroom of all places and his anxious state.
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Natasha, being a former KGB woman, had been trained quite vigorously so that she could awake at a moment's notice. Thus when she heard a voice beckon to her, the redhead sprung up into a sitting position, one hand under the pillow to grip the old luger she kept there... and then relaxed when she realised who was in the room with her. "You have a great sense of timing, you know that?" she said with her usual brand of dry sarcasm.
Her vision adjusted better to the darkness of her personal quarters, and as this happened she could make out more details of her late night visitor- namely that he was carrying one of the most feared and potentially lethal weapons in all of creation on his hand. "T'challa," she said, her D-cup breasts bouncing in her tank top as she sat up further. "Why in god's name are you carrying that thing on your hand...?"</s>
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Nate had finally managed to get away from the orphanage where he'd been stuck since the age of 4, ever since his parents had been killed in an accident at a Spaceport on the colony where they had lived. Things hadn't been good there, the place was not only underfunded but the staff clearly had a disdain for children. And after 12 years Nate couldn't take it anymore. The escape had been rather meticulously planned, he knew exactly what time the staff did their rounds to check on people, he knew exactly when and where they were all the time. Then finally his opportunity had come. With a single backpack that contained all of his few possessions he had snuck through the hidden nooks and crannies in the building, past the gaps in the building scanners and out of the grounds. From there he had made a dash straight for the spaceport, desperate to get as far away from the orphanage as possible, even if it meant sneaking halfway across the galaxy before anyone realized he was gone. Unfortunately, he had no actual money to purchase a ticket off world, so he'd had no choice but to use his hastily developed sneaking skills once again to get into the spaceport and identify the least guarded ship that he could, getting past the security guards and technicians prepping the ship for launch. He knew there would be a check of the ship after it was sealed, so that left him with only one choice of hiding spot, an Escape Pod.
He strapped himself in just in time, the ship shaking violently only minutes after he had gotten himself in place. This was the first time he'd ever been on a launching ship, it was rougher than he had expected. But still, he was finally getting away. Away from everything to start a new life somewhere else!
Several hours later, the ship had safely jumped to hyperspace, though there was a bit of turbulence. As much as he would've liked to explore, Nate knew he couldn't go exploring the ship. If he was caught then either the ship would turn around and take him back, or he'd be arrested and shipped back as soon as they arrived at whatever the ship's destination was. If it meant staying away, he was happy to sit safely in an escape pod for a few more hours.
Unfortunately though, fate seemed to have other ideas. Suddenly the ship rocked as it hit a particularly nasty jolt of hyperspace turbulence, not such an unusual event in itself. However, the jolt seemed to trigger something, alarms beginning to sound around the escape pod. "H-huh? What?!" Nate sat up, about to try and scramble for the controls, but he was too late. With one final alarm, the escape pod suddenly jettisoned, being launched into hyperspace blindly.
When the pod slammed into the side of the hyperspace tunnel, the ship rocked violently before being forcefully ejected into normal space above an uncharted planet, the pod hurtling straight towards it.
The escape pod streaked across the sky in a bright fireball, uncontrolled beyond the computers desperate attempts to gain some control, before violently smashing through several trees. The crash had damaged the pod, cracking it open, destroying the engines and communication systems and knocking Nate unconscious, alone on this unknown alien planet.
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The sky above the forest was growing dark - but despite this and the general thickness of the brush, the distant orange glow of the crash site was all too visible. It was a miracle that no fire had escaped the ravished area, but the risk was still present. "You saw it too, didn't you?" Sally asked. She knew full well she wasn't alone in her darkened wood-paneled office, but she didn't turn her gaze from her telescope aiming out the open window.
"Of course. It'd be hard not to," her visitor replied in a sensual tone. She was veiled in shadows, the area she felt most comfortable in. "Felt it too... whatever it was, it hit the ground hard... and no doubt 'you know who' will be snooping as usual. I came by in advance, I thought you'd want me to investigate."
Sally nodded to herself. "You thought right. Eggman will no doubt want to find out what just crashed out there and if it's something useful then you can bet I don't want him finding it. So, get out there and..." Sally turned, only to realise she was alone again. Sighing, the brunette fixed her hair. This one was a stealth specialist for good reason.
With deliberate silence and skill, the winged woman made her way through the forested realm outside the rebel camp. Along the branches, through the bush, without raising a noise. When she reached the deep trench and crater carved in the earth by the ship, the winged woman realised she had thankfully arrived here first. She landed neatly on her high heels, sauntered over to the crushed and damaged pod. It took only a little strength on her end to tear the ruined door off its flimsy hinges.
Down it went with a clatter, and the young man would awake to see an abat-like woman looking down on him.
"Well now," she purred. "What do we have here?"</s>
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The television screen flipped through the channels, each station only one for a few moments before quickly blinking out to the next one. Underneath the covers a pair of green eyes peered as a pale hand lazily pressed the button on the remote. Zack was depressed, he'd been like this for days. The newlt turned sixteen year old sulked. He was the only kid in his small little town without a pokemon. He'd been born in the spring, but the partnering always took place during the spring and summer seasons, even the fall sometimes. He was just so unlucky to be born then. "Derin got his when he turned sixteen," the dark haired adolescent moaned, speaking of his older brother.
Just then there was a knock on the door, Zack groaned and slowly opened it. "Hey bro..." the person he did not want to see just then said. It was his older brother, home from college for the holidays, but he'd be leaving again on his big pokemon adventure. "Leave me alone..." he said once more sinking into his bed sheets, vanishing from the world. "Heard about the tough break, wanted to give you something...your birthday gift, maybe itll make you feel better," though when he gave his older brother no response he simply left the gift on his dresser.
Minutes passed, and he started to feel a bit like a jerk. "Wasn't his fault," he said to himself. He kicked the covers off himself and blinked a few times. His black hair was a mess, he'd been in bed till way into the afternoon. The first thing he did was look at his dresser, seeing the small box on it. It was crudly wrapped, and had a rather annoying big bow on it. He went over, picking the parcel up noticing it fit in the palm of his hand. He unwrapped it, and tipped the box over in his hand. He felt something smooth and cold. Could it really be?
He looked at his palm, seeing the red and white sphere in his hand, whats more he noticed it was used. His feet flew a few inches off the floor as he ran downstairs, tackling his older brother. "Thanks...best bro ever!" where the only words that where understandable, as he spoke so quickly before jetting for the front door. He quickly pressed the front button on the ball, as it expanded in his palm he tossed it, eager to see what was inside.
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As the pokeball was unwrapped and tipped out of the box, its slightly worn surface shone in the light of his room. It was a normal pokeball with a small flame symbol on the top just above the white button. It had been Derin's very first pokeball which housed his very first pokemon. The pokemon hadn't been seen around the house very often, though it was usually heard more than seen when ever Derin had been home from his travels.
When the ball was tossed, it popped open in mid air and in the usual bit of white light, a petite yet fit pokemon appeared. Once the light faded, it was easy to see that it was a beautiful vulpix. The girl was maybe at the most 5'6" and weighed maybe 130 lbs. Her body was curvy with a sexy hourglass shape to it, her waist small with flared out hips and perky breasts. Her fur was a glossy reddish-brown color, her feet and hands a deeper red while her six tails and her curly hair were a dark red. After she was released, she looked around with her big, bright bown eyes before her gaze landed upon Zack and she paused with a twitch of her ear.
"You're not Derin." she said softly, her tails swaying behind her as she shifted her weight, causing one of her hips to jut out on one side while she gazed at him. The vulpix's name was Natalya but Derin often called her Nat or Lya. She was wearing a cute white dress with a pink ribbon around her waist and neck though she was barefoot. Though it wasn't unheard of, it was a little strange to see a pokemon dressed in such a fashion. Usually the outfits were shorts and a tank top. Something simple and easy to battle in.</s>
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She walked in divine indifference, and wore a coat of misery, and of despair, and drinks of cup of sorrow. And the forces of darkness must sit at a table she made of the bones of their kin and weep bitter tears of the banquet she's made for them. Yet in her indifference and pain, of a destiny that she had tried to escape, by being good and indifferent to the surrounding pain. Because even if she had tried to escape, some things were not what you could get away.
Then the world tilted, faded and reshaped.
There she was there again, younger, more malleable, and the words drifted through as she walked in the night.
There was a strange kind of thunder, a distant calling.
"She is coming." There was an angry buzzing, of men who feared something they could not voice. A voice that didn't belong to my dream girl, but was in her memories anyway. Because it was telling of coming, and it was a story she would have known well." You wore the old ways, and make a mockery of everything we are. You twist things to suit yourself. They talk about honoring the gods that created them, both men and FAE, but it's a lie. You Sarsen, will meet our match, because you've perverted what we are. There will come a day the blood debt will be called in, and you will have to answer for what you have done."
"Who is coming, dreamer?"
"The dreamspinner who will walk between dusk and dawn. The poison that will be both your destruction, and your salvation."
The buzzing grew louder, a howl from the night sounded, like a summoning. A sound full of rage and laughter, of fury and joy.
"Whose memory am I in?" I asked looking around, trying to find something familiar.
"You are in mine, dreamer. Or are you just another part of the dream?"
I looked around, and even as the dream fragmented around me, I met the girl's eyes, and I realized something.
My hope lay with Belladonna. Her darkness was my fate.
Narcissa sighed softly as she walked into the black manor, looking upset as she searched for not only her cousin and his lover, but also her nephew. While he wasn't her nephew by blood, he was in any other way. Harry Potter nee Black was everything she could have wanted in a childhood playmate for her son Draco, and even if the rivalry had grown as they had, it was more friendly than anything else. "Siri? Remus?" She called as she walked up the main steps, fiddling with the letter in her fingers, because she did not know how to tell them that not only did they think that Dumbledore was dead, but that he had left a message, just for harry. And she was very afraid for her nephew in what could come next.
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Harry gasped as he was released from the dream, panting hard as he ran a sweaty, shaking hand across his equally sweaty forehead. His emerald eyes were filled with fear and pain, remnants of the dream which was replaced with confusion and frustration as he calmed down. This dream was worse than anything Voldemort ever sent him, and came almost every night, filling him with feelings that he didn't like. It made him feel empty somehow, like he was missing something in his life. Slowly sliding out of bed, he headed for the shower to clean off his sweat-soaked body yet again, thinking about the woman he had seen and the words she had spoken, and the realization that he had come to - the woman he saw was real, and was in pain, she was the missing piece of...something. He needed to rescue her, every last inch of him crying out for him to save her. He sighed and shook his head, heading downstairs to talk to Sirius.
After Voldemort killed Harry's parents, the Malfoys rescued Harry from the burning building and laid him in Draco's crib, raising him until Sirius was set free thanks to the Malfoys' betrayal of Voldemort. They told everyone it was Wormtail who had betrayed the Potters. And Wormtail who had killed all those poor muggles. Sirius and Lupin were now mates, raising Harry together as only two very loving fathers could, but they were worried about Harry, who seemed tired all the time. They knew about the dreams, and were afraid it was Voldemort trying to drive their son insane. He walked into the sitting room, looking startled at Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy.
"Oh, good evening," he stated, nodding to them. He was a very polite boy, the Malfoys and Sirius and Lupin had made sure of it, but Harry was startled to see them. They didn't usually show up unannounced. From the looks on all their faces, something bad had happened, and Harry sighed. "What did I do this time?" he whined. He was a good kid, but he had Sirius's tendencies to get his ass in trouble. Lupin chuckled. "What are you doing up, Harry? Did you have that dream again?" he asked, hoping to distract Harry. The green-eyed boy nodded, but he wasn't about to be distracted. "What happened? Someone died, didn't they?" he asked softly, looking at the Malfoys. "Someone I know, and you don't want to tell me."</s>
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To make a deal with a demon is pure madness. However, sometimes revenge calls for mad actions.
It is early morning and the mansion is already a buzz of activity. The gardener has already begun tending to his greenery, the chef has almost finished breakfast, the maid has already cleaned two wings, and the young mistress still has not awoken.
"Is the young mistress still not awake? Just how long does she plan on sleeping today?" The chef exclaimed impatiently. He had always worried that his food would not be enjoyed at the moment of completion. It just wouldn't be the same if they had time to alter temperature too much. A chuckle left a man standing in the corner of the kitchen. The man stood tall with fair skin, dark black hair, a cool and calm look of confidence ever stuck to his face, and a pair of almost unsettling red eyes in his skull. He looked to be no older than mid twenties but displayed a wisdom and knowledge of someone much older. Sebastian Michaelis, the head butler of the house and closest person to the young mistress. He spoke after a few moments, "She has a busy day ahead of her. She will need as much sleep as she can get if she plans to get through it all without getting cranky." He watched the chef continue cooking. Though he was not the chef himself, he took it upon himself to ensure the food was perfect. Once completed, he took it upon himself to take the breakfast up to his mistresses bedroom.
As he walked through the corridors to the master bedroom, his eyes calmly surveyed the area around himself in search of faults. Already, only after one hallway, he had made mental notes of at least a dozen fixes he needed to see to. These fixes would have taken a normal butler ages to notice, but Sebastian was no normal butler.
He approached the door to the master bedroom and knocked with his free hand, mostly out of tradition before entering. He approached the bed, "Your breakfast is ready, won't you rise?" He smiled and looked to his mistress, the one who had summoned him, a demon, to aid in her revenge.
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Serena was the craziest person to many people who knew her. Well, she was already crazy normally, but this wasn't normal - having a demon butler. She didn't care, Serena didn't have to because she was fueled by revenge for what had happened to her when she was young. The long story short of her past was that her parents had split after a huge fight over a serious matter, causing her and her mother to live away in the mansion, though he lived somewhere else in another part of the country.
Serena couldn't forgive him for what he'd done personally to her, seeing as he hadn't cared much for her safety or general care as his daughter. Somehow, she inherited a mansion from her great-grandfather, and she'd been surviving for a little while now.
Right now, Serena was asleep in her bed, wearing a white nightgown and with her long black hair lying behind her like a bunch of black snakes that couldn't move at all. She yawned and hugged the pillow next to her, slowly opening her eyes to see the dress man in front of her. Yawning and sitting up, Serena slowly stretched, seeing the sun's rays barely hitting the window through the curtains that still covered it. "Thank you," she said softly, turning to pick up her plate and place it on her lap, beginning to eat it.</s>
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Peter had just turned 22 years of age, and as a result he would soon be promoted from an apprentice to a journeyman blacksmith. As a present, his master as well as the rest of the blacksmiths have all pitched in for him to spend one night in the King's Landing Brothel. He would get to pick which girl he wants of course, but the whole trip and experience would be payed for.
"Master," Peter protested, "I don't want to visit a brothel for my birthday."
"You're turning 22, it's time you've become a man Peter. You can't spend your whole life a virgin you know and being a blacksmith doesn't really impress the ladies."
Peter shook his head. "What is it exactly that you want to do for your birthday?" his master asked.
"I don't really want to do anything, what's wrong with just staying here and having a couple of drinks with all of you?"
His master smiled. "Because that's what we do every night, that wouldn't make for a special birthday now would it? You're going to that brothel and that's that."
Peter continued to protest, but the minds of the blacksmiths were already made up. They were taking him to the brothel whether he liked it or not.
Nightfall came, and the blacksmiths closed up their smithery before walking Peter to the brothel. For moral support, of course, but also because they knew he might try to run off somewhere else if left alone. As they entered, the madam had her girls lined up and ready for Peter to choose. His master nudged him forward, and he reluctantly walked up to the lineup. Each girl was attractive in her own way, but none took his breath away until a latecomer ran down the stairs and stood at the end. Peter pointed to her and said, "I choose her..." in a soft tone and stared at her with loving eyes.
The master paid the madam, and they left with the rest of the blacksmiths. They would hear this story tomorrow, no doubt about it.
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The girls all stood there, lining up ready to be picked. They were all shapes and sizes, but all deemed equally beautiful in the eyes of Littlefinger, who owned the brothel. Ros, who seemed to be in charge of the girls and the brothel's Madam walked back and forth in front of them, waiting for the young man to pick which one he wanted.
"How about Roseanna?" She said, "I hear she does things with her tongue that no other girl can do?" All of the girls started to laugh. "Or maybe this one," Ros went behind the middle woman, stroking and caressing her breasts over her clothing. Suddenly, Shae, a new girl to the Brothel came running down and joined the lineup in a hurry. Ros gave her an evil look before coming up behind her and grabbing her arms. "Or maybe you prefer a girl who has no shame in being late!" Her tone was clearly directed at the black-haired foreigner.
"So better late than never," Ros answered to Peter as she pushed the girl forward to the man. Holding out a hand while the other rested on her hip, the redhead took the bag of coins from the blacksmiths and sent them away. "Take him through there and give him the best night of his life. If he has any complaints, there will be consequences." Ros then walked away to another male while Shae was left with Peter.
Taking his hand, she then led him through a pair of red silk curtains which led to a bed. Drawing them shut, she turned around to gulp at the male.</s>
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She couldn't believe this had happened. Elsa had always thought of herself as powerful, at least enough to protect her kingdom, especially now that she knew how to control them. A slip-up here and there was possible, she couldn't always control her emotions, but she hadn't had anything drastic happen since she was able to keep herself calm, focused on the love she felt for her sister and the people of the kingdom. Then everything had suddenly crumbled beneath her as they were invaded.
Her kingdom had always been peaceful, they didn't have a large army, and they'd been overrun quickly. What bothered her the most was that despite her powers, the leader of this other kingdom had them too, and they seemed stronger. Now, here she was... sitting on the cold stone floor of her own kingdom's dungeon. Her dress was gone, her hair out of its braid and left to hang, disheveled around her shoulders.
She didn't know where her sister was, she didn't know what had happened to her people, to the kingdom she'd let down. No, she was just left here to sit... sit and wait.
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#full
Mitsunari Ishida walked into the dungeon with a grin, as he was the leading general of the conquering army. He had severed the Empire of Esseto in the south and he had been charged with taking Elsa's kingdom from her. He had done just that, and now he ruled that land as he turned all the women into whores to be sold and all the men were sold for labor.
"So, this is the great and powerful Elsa?" He chuckled as he licked his lips at her nude form. His firebenders had easily overpowered her when they stormed the castle and he himself was a master bender. Beside Mitsunari walked another figure, that of Elsa's sister, Anna. She was clad in a tiny bikini top and thong, with a collar around her neck that was attached to a leash that Mitsunari held. "Your sister has told me all about you...isn't that right, slut?" He looked at Elsa with a grin before he moved to lick Anna's cheek. She was his whore and slut now, he had given her to some of the officers first, and they had had their way with her until he decided he wanted her for himself.</s>
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Naruto X Hinata
Hinata stood outside Naruto's apartment complex and sighed quietly. Apparently the Kyuubi had taken control and Naruto was going berserk. So Hinata had decided to volunteer. She had not been thinking when she volunteered for the position. Now though it was a little too late to change her mind. She cared for Naruto and did not want him to be taken over and unable to regain himself.
"Alright...here we go..." She said, looking up. Hinata had purposely avoided telling her father what she was about to do. Knowing he would veto the idea immediately. Her father, while not being very keen on her being heir to the Hyuuga clan, cared for his daughter. He did not want her walking into a lions den...or a foxs den in this case. Clearly it was dangerous and she understood that danger. She could be killed immediately if she made a wrong move.
So at almost seventeen Hinata found herself standing outside Naruto's apartment door. They had three Anbu outside the door and surely more unseen keeping him contained in the room. One of the Anbu stepped up and spoke to her quietly. "Are you sure, Hinata-san?"
Hinata nodded her head, knowing who it was. Her cousin. He was to tell her father if something went wrong but she refused to think of that possibility.
"Yeah. I am sure." At least she hoped. Carefully they opened a hole in the barrier and she stepped inside, it immediately closed behind her. "N-Naruto?" She said, looking around for the man she had always cared for. She did not know what to expect when she walked through the door, but she knew he would not be the Naruto she knew. At least that was what she was told. It was her responsibility to help him regain his consciousness.
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Naruto was lying down on his bed in a feral fox manner, with his head resting on his paws. When the Kyuubi heard someone enter the room, he slowly looked at her with his fox ears and tails twitching as he observed her. So far, he had no reason to move or attack unless provoked; the Kyuubi did have some recognition of who she was, having seen her try to free him from pain and getting sent flying by Pain, which ignited Naruto's anger.
The Kyuubi in Naruto was curious as to why Hinata was here, his eyes not moving from her, wagging his tails slightly.</s>
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Most ponies thought that after the victory in the Crystal Empire, Sombra had been fully defeated and likely killed. But he hadn't been destroyed. A stallion as powerful as Sombra could never be fully killed no matter how many blasts of rainbow magic struck him. He was nearly immortal despite not being an alicorn, and as a result he was locked up down in the deepest prisons under Canterlot. In the crystalline caverns, a number of dangerous beings were kept, and in one strong cage, the king was locked up and had been for the past few years. With a few exceptions, his only company was a stallion who dropped off food once a day and made sure Sombra wasn't gone. Today, he was going to have some more interesting company. Twilight had been researching the Crystal Empire, but found a lot of information to be lacking. Finally, she figured that she needed to find a more reliable source, and with her alicorn status, she could get into the prison. She hadn't had any trouble getting in, but she had avoided telling Princess Celestia since she knew her teacher would worry. The alicorn had a wide smile as she approached his cell. She was a pretty mare, with nice hips, C-cup breasts, and a pretty face. She had the long wings and horn of an alicorn, and was dressed in dark jeans and a dark purple sweater that clung to her body. She had a notebook under her left arm. Sombra? She said a bit hesitantly when she finally reached his cell.
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Sombra, the true ruler of Equestria, was recovering after his defeat at the Crystal Kingdom. Biding his time until he was ready, he heard a familiar voice as two green eyes opened and a grin formed. As the glow of his eyes and the gleam of his teeth could be seen in the darkness, he said in a playful tone, "Awww, my dear Twilight Sparkle...or should I say Princess Twilight? Since you ascended to an alicorn, have you come to give me company after such a long time? I haven't had company in my deep, dark cell since you imprisoned me here." He chuckled. "Or have you come to mock the beast that is now trapped in his cage? What is it, mare?" He walked out of the shadows, trapped within his crystal cell, running his hoof across the barrier that sparked against his hoof. "Speak now, mare. I have very little patience for you, Princess Twilight."</s>
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In a realm of fables and legend, there were hidden evils more powerful and wicked than any mortal soul could possibly comprehend... These were horrifying times across the land, plagued by misery, anguish, and even death itself.
Arthur's nostrils flared as he awoke, drenched in his own sweat. The crevices of his wrinkled forehead were caked in his own dried blood, as it covered his battered face. His once stoic and honorable blue eyes were now nearly sealed shut due to the severe swelling caused by his captor's relentless beatings. His vision was fuzzy and double as he squinted, attempting to make out a visual of his surroundings, giving him some clue of where he may be, as his short term memory has clearly suffered damage. For a handful of seconds which seemed to have gone by in lifetimes, his senses slowly began to return to him. Firstly, his nose perked as the wretched aroma of filth and disgust filled his lungs. Arthur coughed heavily, as fresh blood escaped his lips and ran down his chin, dripping on the cold stone floor below him. The terrible smell was a mixture of his own battered self, as well as the stench of bubbling concoctions brewing in a cauldron up on a stone platform against the north wall of the room. Arthur's sight slowly began to regain it's bearings as he could make out shapes of the dungeon he found himself in. What caught his attention at first was a sacrificial altar made of marble and decorated with various twisted and gnarled demonic engravings along the edges. The rectangular table was large enough to fit a person's body, and to his surprise, his beloved Guinevere lay seemingly unconscious on the table, strapped down by barb-studded leather. The tightness of the straps through her skin caused many lesions and gashes that allowed her precious innocent blood to trickle down and pool beneath her as she lay vulnerable to the terrors that soon awaited. The mere movement of any part of her body, even rising her chest to breath would cause unbearable pain and digging of the barbs into her skin. Suddenly, his sense of pain returned as he felt his own wounds open and close with each breath of the poisonous air, ripping the clots and freshening the supply of pooled redness below him. He tried to shout in terror, but was unable, due to his tongue being cut out, and his mouth filled with the taste of warm iron.
Arthur had been bound and tied to a wooden post overlooking the altar where Guinevere lay. It was a ghastly room, that was dark and suspiciously quiet other than the occasional whimpering of the humiliated king and queen. The cobblestone walls were complete with dead vines and moss growing all over ancient demonic writings and engravings that littered the walls on all sides. Torches lit the room, as the fire flickered and barely illuminated their sinister surroundings. The only way in or out was through an iron-studded wooden door that seemed to lead to a staircase going up... Signifying that possibly they were somewhere underground, in a room designated for dark blood rituals. Unfortunately for Arthur, nearly every bone in his body felt as if it were fractured as he sat vulnerable and paralyzed, trying to remember how and why he and Guinevere could have ended up in an evil place such as this.
Lastly, his hearing began to fade in and out as he listened to footsteps on the other side of the door grow louder as they suddenly stopped. The metal handle turned, as the wood creaked and an entrance was made. Out from the darkness of the spiraled stairwell, stepped Merlin. Arthur knew that the wizard, his former trainer, had always been plagued with issues concerning his thirst for power and dominance. However, it was clear that he has changed, his demeanor taking a turn for the worse. His once conflicted eyes had now displayed a message of pure evil as his gaze upon Arthur felt as if it were piercing into the depths of his very soul. The black robe Merlin wore raked across the ground as the tangled and gnarled wand slowly pointed toward the desperate king. A grim smile from Merlin was seen as he spoke in a dark and twisted voice, almost as if it were two voices meshed into one.
"Arthur, my boy... Your reign is over. Your destiny now, is to serve me." Merlin stated, as a faint red glow began to take form, swirling around the tip of his wand.
"...Death....First..." Arthur managed to cough out, using the last bit of energy he had to retaliate in defiance. His sound was weak and pathetic, as his mutilated tongue made it impossible for him to speak properly.
"Hm hm hm hm...." Merlin chuckled, "That is the plan, of course. Not even death will grant you salvation now. Once the ritual is complete, you will serve me even as a tainted and unholy undead abomination."
Arthur barely managed to hear the last part of Merlin's response as his eyes became heavy once more. He drifted back into unconsciousness briefly as his mind began to reflect on recent events, a dream of sorts, detailing a cloudy memory of the past. The pain and fear of his imminent death had tunneled into the back of his mind once again, as just a few moments of reminiscing seemed like ages to his now pseudo-lucid brain.
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Every movement brought pain-searing, hot, unforgiving pain. Guinevere could feel the relentless bite of the metal barbs against her soft flesh as her muscles tensed in fear, flexing in reaction to her most dire of situations. The air was oddly cold, though somehow despite how muddled her thoughts had become, she figured it was due to blood loss more so than to being naked or to even being in what appeared to be some dark, dank room located deep within the crypts of Castle Camelot. She was sure that she and her beloved...oh yes, she knew Arthur was there, she could feel his presence, sense him...were somewhere deep within its bowls.
Guinevere's breaths were short as she tried her best to breathe, panting on the stale, rancid air that swirled about her body, as she lay sprawled and vulnerable to whoever had splayed her in such a distasteful fashion. She could feel her blood oozing from each knick on her pale flesh, her dark hair plastered to her face as she stared upward at a ceiling that seemed to disappear into oblivion, clearly a trick of the eye...or was that just the blood loss once more?
Blinking her blue eyes, Guinevere tried to look away from the ceiling. In vain, she dared to twist her head to the side in hopes to see where Arthur was, but it was no use. All the motion did was bring back more pain. Just then she heard the wizard's chuckle. It was amazing how something that used to be so familiar and so warm suddenly seemed so cold and disturbing. How had things changed so drastically? Her eyes fluttered shut just then as she listened to the old man taunt her beloved. The hatred seethed through her veins like acid, tearing them apart from the inside out.
It washer. That woman, her beloved's half-sister! She followed the devil, heard his voice! Evil! That's what Morgan Pendragon was! Yes, the hatred ran deep, right to Guinevere's very core.
A shiver ran along Guinevere's spine as she heard the light sound of footsteps walking down a set of stone steps. Somehow she knew who it was.
Morgan.
Morgansmiled as she gracefully, languidly descended the stone steps and made her way past the altar where Guinevere lied. Her hand brushed against the marble so lovingly and she moved on toward where Merlin stood in all his glorious wonder. She marveled at his radiance, as his dark power seemed to emanate in dark waves. Flicking some of her red hair over her shoulder, she sucked in a sharp breath, her chest rising as her lungs filled to their capacity and slowly she exhaled. The room smelled of blood and death and fear. It was utterly exhilarating!
Pale skin flushed as a sweeping heat moved across Morgan's face and down along her neck, along the swells of her heaving breasts. She smiled and let a delicate hand move along Merlin's shoulder. "They are ready," she said almost stoically, though a hint of giddiness resounded in her tone, unable to hide her elation.
Guinevere let out the smallest of whimpers just then causing Morgan to glance over at the bound and helpless queen. A smirk tugged at the corners of her lips and she giggled softlya sound of victorious triumph. Unable to stay awake, to take the pain, Guinevere succumbed to the overwhelming sensations that ripped through her tiny body as the barbs cut deeper, blood causing tiny rivulets to drip down along her pale flesh in every which way... finally giving in to unconsciousness, finally giving in to darkness.</s>
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For once, the world seemed just a little bit too peaceful. Many folklore, fairy tale, myth and legends sought out a comfortable place to stay after their homelands had been taken by the Adversary. Those known as Fables had retreated to the Mundane World (our world) and the year has occupied itself as 1986 in Manhattan, USA. The area in which they have been relocated to has been identified as Fabletown. For those without a human-like form (toads, pigs, trolls, etc) are told to pay for what is known as a Glamour, an enchantment they must receive in order to seem human. Citizens of Fabletown must remain quiet and in tact and not show their true forms to others in the Mundane World known as Mundies. Although a glamour is quite expensive and those who cannot pay the toll are forced to move to The Farm, a so called safe haven that allows those without glamour to run around as they so please. Of course with every community, there comes a government.
Due to a recent fall of the government, Snow White has taken over as Deputy Mayor whilst Bigby Wolf finds himself sticking around as the Sheriff, enforcing the laws where the Mayor see fit and fighting for their citizens wants and needs. After the horrid murder of two young women by the names of Faith and Lily, the citizens of Fabletown have grown quiet. Citizens assume the Crooked Man manipulated another Fable into the horrible act of murder. Due to these acts, he had been placed away under the spell of a crow in a small gold cage as punishment. As it stands now, Fabletown is somewhat safe, or so they assume. It wasn't until a month after these events that murder had risen once again...
Even still, the thoughts ran heavily through his mind. The idea that he had possibly allowed someone to get away with something so drastic? It still haunted him with every waking moment. There was not a time he looked at himself in the mirror and saw a traitor, that he had looked to the confident and somewhat content citizens of Fabletown and felt guilty. Even when facing someone as important to him as Snow had him trying to escape the moment that withered around them. After speaking with someone he thought he had a connection with, someone he thought was so pure and innocent with the words that escaped her glossed lips it had become more clear to him that he couldn't trust everyone that walked into his office, that he passed on the street, that he got information from or that he had known for a long time. How had he not placed the pieces together? How had he been so blind to just not see what was right in front of him the whole time? In a roundabout way, he was disappointed and angry with himself but to let anyone know? It was impossible. Keeping this secret, it was the only thing he could do. Staying silent? It was apparent he did so. The last thing he wanted, the last thing he needed, was to have the citizens of Fabletown hating him for the very mistake he knew he made...
"You're not as bad as everyone says you are," she said softly.
Those words still haunted him. They dragged out every second, every minute, every hour of every day and made it twice as long. On a good day, his mind would be so busy that the very thought of Faith wouldn't come to him until he had a moment to spare, when he wasn't so busy tending to others and their idealistic problems. If only escapism were possible. If only he could go back to the way things were, if only he could return to the beginning, then perhaps he wouldn't have had to point fingers at her. He knew he made mistakes. He knew he'd been a bad person. He knew that he had to do what he needed in order to survive, to protect those he found himself caring about. It hadn't even been about himself and what he believed in; it was what the town backed him up on. What they believed he could and could not do. Of course, now he was deemed the protector of this town. That he was the one person who could look out for each individual in their current state.
Although he knew that his title still scared them, just because a title was behind his name and called him a Sheriff did not mean he was really anyone special even though sometimes he wished he were. Wanting to change the stars that aligned his very path, fate was not so easily changed in all its fortunes. To his demise, he knew that fate did not hold him in its favor. The citizens of Fabletown did not easily trust nor accept change within their lives. He knew that he still frightened them, scaring them, that they shook when he got angry. One day perhaps, one day when he wasn't such a fuck-up, perhaps then they would accept him for who he was.
Knock knock knock...
Not even an hour of rest and already his eyes were on the brink of destruction. Red veins had coursed through them, strings of blood that begged him to rest yet again. His body tired, weak, drained of all movement. Perhaps just one more wink of sleep, at least one more hour that his body needed to recharge. Closing those petty eyes ever so slowly to enjoy a good regeneration. Realistically, the consequences were uneventful. Knowingly, sleep was not precisely needed even if the thought crossed his deceptive mind. The cursed nap he'd provided his own body would have done better had he just disagreed with it entirely. With his mind already tormenting him night after night, he was unable to think of anything else but Faith and what she had done to him, to all of them. What guilt he was still holding inside. Just one more ounce of sleep, just one more was all he was asking for. Just a little bit of time to discard the attention his mind placed on something so significant. If only it meant nothing to him, if only he could push it away. But he knew better than that. Sleep would not cover anything. Sleep would not assist the very thoughts that mistreated his mentality. Even in the land of dreams they sought out his deepest darkest secrets and held them accountable within a nightmare. Being reminded of all the innocent people involved, of all the harm he'd done in his life, of the countless lives he'd taken in the past, all the people he'd eaten-
"Bigby, open up!"
A recognizable voice, for certain. It was that same voice that he felt his own damn heart pulsating in a negative direction. Pain filtering through his body as his head turned to face the door. What time was it? Had he really only obtained one whole hour of sleep? It felt nearly five minutes. With a hand on his blue stained chair, he forced himself up onto his feet, clothes still very much intact. Unable to remember the last time he'd truthfully changed them and alas somehow never ended up with a horrible scent. Headaches did not revolve around him, not often at least. Unless his head was willing to muster itself against the pavement than perhaps so but right now the only headache he could possibly get would be from the lack of sleep he seemed to get. Pulling himself from the chair was not the difficult part. Pulling himself together was more so the hardest.
With a quickened pace, he ran a hand through his somewhat natural greasy strands, grasping at the lock with his other as he sooner than later opened the door. His blood stained eyes soon met with bright blue ones that snapped him back into reality. Snow White, yes. Of course who else would it have been? He knew her voice on the other side of the door but these days, he wasn't one hundred percent certain whether or not the dream land kept him safe or not. But this moment snapped him back into reality. The strong alluring scent that Snow had, it not only brightened his sleeplessness but also his mind. But something was wrong. Her eyes were wary, worried, fearful. Something had happened. Bigby Wolf's brows furrowed in despair, misunderstanding, concern and disillusion. What was going on? He had to know.
Not a word was truthfully explained, he knew the walls were paper thin. Snow would have said something instantaneously had she wanted the public to know. This must have been urgent. Concentration seemed to be accurate here. Speed was with them, the both of them, it was nearing almost midnight. Snow was sleepless as well, he could tell just by looking at the natural bags that bore underneath her bright blue eyes, lashes as long as ever without the slightest hint of makeup. He followed even without a word being spoken. They had an untrained understanding of one another, they had to. As partners in crime, with Snow being the Deputy Mayor, he had to contain that very strange connection he had with her. Even if she hadn't realized it, even if his intentions were as pure as day itself with her, his obsessions were similar to that of which Crane's once were. But he had never acted upon them, he couldn't do such a thing to her. Dishonouring her the way that that sluggish creep had always done. How he used glamour to obtain Lily, using her the way he had. Had he been in a similar situation, his mentality would not accept such things. He knew deep down he couldn't go through with it. He could never take advantage of such an attraction. Besides, her scent was the most alluring thing about her, he was obedient to her every command. Willingly he would bow before her if she asked him to and that alone said enough towards his loyalty. Grasping the HuffnPuff brand of cigarettes that rest in his slacks he'd push one out. A shit brand that every sacred soul in the sluggish town found obscene and disgusting. He'd been the only person who smoked such a brand, at least that he knew of. Everyone else called it wretched but he could not. The smell helped, it dominated the very sweet addiction she was. Lighting the cancer stick with a zippo, his senses were soon soothed.
They left the building, only to drive a quiet distance. It wasn't until then that Snow spoke up. Bigby had been told of a body, a body of someone that he may have known of, a man she thought he may know a little bit about. But when told his name, his expression did not falter. Of all the people in Fabletown, he was not all too surprised on the outcome. That was up until the car came to a halt and he was faced eye-to-eye with the wretched scene of what had become of The Hatter. With one last long drag from his cigarette, as the world slowed down just a tick of a pace, Bigby took one large leap forward into the case, hoping to whatever humanity was left of this scene that there were witnesses or even suspects to such a disaster.
Early morning had arrived quicker than he thought. His mind was still attempting to wrap around the very idea of losing one of their own; yet again. But who was to blame? Who was to blame but himself? Taking everything to heart, it was all he could ever do. Crane told him long ago that he was supposed to be the one person who kept the town safe and yet again; he failed. What had happened to The Hatter? Who had done such horrible distorted and inhumane things to him? A part of him wished it were a Mundy, if anything it had to be one of them. But no, deep down he knew in his big beating heart that a Fable did this. One of them must have done it. A weapon of peculiar abilities, with magic perhaps attached, but nothing that Bigby had ever seen before, not even once in his life.
Step by step, he made his way down the very hall that echo'd in his name. Towards his office. Already he'd spoken to two witnesses earlier that evening. Two lone girls that spoke sweet sorrow to him, explaining they both had seen a girl with golden locks at the scene. But when asked her name or if they knew of it, they seemed uncertain and wary and explained to him who she was.
Alice.
That was her name. Bigby ran the name over in his head hundreds of times trying to wrap his head around the very idea of her. Having never truly looked into her tale, he had to wonder if she had anything to do with this. They'd gotten in contact with her instantly, as best they could, knowing quite well that she may not show up, just as most had seemed to skip out on. With a file in his hand and slow yet steady walk, he stopped at his room. The door was closed. Snow had told him 'She's waiting for you,' and all he could hope for was a steady case here. Perhaps she could lift some evidence for him, perhaps she would admit to doing it if she had been the one. Alas, he did not know if that was for certain, he didn't know if any of this was for certain. All he had to do was open the door.
"Open it," he'd tell himself over and over in his head.
Through slow motion, he opened the door. Time slowed down, his heart even came to a delightful stop. A heavy pang in his heart almost broke him. It wasn't with his eyes that he saw her, but with the scent that filled the room. A scent he had never once taken in before. It lured him in, it instantly drove him crazy, a perfume that riddled him confused, a scent that overpowered his very thoughts of Snow. That had him baffled with all bewilderment. What was that scent that aura that begged him for more? Etching him on as he slowly closed the door behind him. He had to speak, he had to do something, he had to get rid of whatever it was that caused his heart to rush this quickly. Never in centuries had he smelled something as delightful as this...
"Alice, is it?"
Ignoring the very essence of what he had taken in, he'd walk around the table in the slowest of manners, taking his time as he'd allow the closed folder to fall down onto his desk. The room filled with disorganized papers and finished boxes of Chinese food that were probably a week old. Taking a seat across from the girl, his brown eyes took the very attention of her own. Gripping his box of cigarettes once again from his pocket, he'd grasp it out with his lips and light it within seconds. The scent was much too strong, it was absolutely murdering his own mentality. He had to rid of it, and just barely and only barely, had it done such a thing. The scent of his shitty cigarette had overpowered her perfume, and with a hand reaching forward, Bigby held out the pack to her as though to offer her a stick of his own personal favorite brand. But he knew in all honesty, he was in much more trouble than she was for she was one of the fairest he'd ever lay eyes on, let alone took in the very scent of.
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My my... Wonderland, where are you now?
It seemed as though in the blink of an eye a nightly presence had come with such an invigoratingly unsuspecting front, that had done well to show address to the irregular circumstances of the particular beholders jurisdiction for nothing quite seemed as simple as the turn of day to night. Such things had become a background aspect of much more sinister powers at hand, as time had seemingly shifted from its former meaning. To everyone else it would be a night like any other, one filled with mystery and purpose to those who dwelled within the comforts of its shade. For the most part those still about would be doing as they always did, serving to pick and nit about at all the silly little impractical behaviors and bitter sweets, they found themselves more devoted to address. It had occurred to her only over recent understanding that others were very much unlike her in several obvious different ways, but she could do little even bother trying to make herself show consideration for such matters. Perhaps the source of her confusion came from her history or instead something that deemed to dissolve itself so much more in a scheming elaborate paradox? Truth was she'd rather not think about it, even try to consider rationality in the subject of one of the very most important things she had obviously forgotten. Instead she preferred nothing more than to indulge her fantastical illusive stare into the stars hanging above her, like riddled dots over a once fabled and adored pattern that seemed so much more interesting than anything more prioritized around her..
The thickening shroud of her nightly surroundings had only ever served to measure its value to her in one purpose and that was the ultimate cover of confinement. Whether she was oblivious to her reasons for being so entranced by it, was beyond the value of her consideration as she found the simple manner of night much more appealing than trying to understand what it was that she adored so much about it. It was tricky to say much about her else than what was only said by others and written by fools in old silly tales, as the mystery to who she really was would always remain just that and to herself as well, even if she were capable of realizing it she probably wouldn't have had it any other way.
Only now, in this dissolving sense of gloomy childish reality, had she found herself at a rather rough edge that had seemed to send her head over heels into a chasm of uncertainty. As she knew better than almost anyone else, whenever the thought of her anxiety slowly began to once again crawl its way up her back and finally came to her attention, she often found herself slipping slowly into a rather shallow form of escape - either through the rim and cork of an equally otherworldly bottle that housed liquid beyond this world's knowledge or reason, or through some bizarre form of mostly illicit sedative. Though she seemed to bear some form of dignity even now, accepting this term of herself as she knew better than to ever get caught out in the open doing such things, the desire to enthrall herself in the release of these urges knew little control over herself, even now in the glamorous shroud of the nightly aroma that she loved so much.
Through the cosmic mist of the thick nightly fog and ridiculous vibrate spotlights of small establishment there would be but a single whim of a rather illusory trail of a strange coloured smoke seeming to shift in both colour and form. The trail that led to its source seemed to coil about the very essence of all physical manner of obstruction and object coming forth its path, always shifting and changing in vibrant glow with each step further she had made, as she had only just stopped to realize the beauty of it all. The journey of mesmerizing illusion had taken her only to the foot of a single alleyway that was drenched in shadow and didn't seem to bear any form of flare or color about it. Only now had she remembered why it was she had gone there, her steps seeming to quicken at the tap of her heels as she felt a strange source of eagerness fill her. Looking back at the cosmic highway of endless magical smoke had only inspired her to paint the entire city in the charisma of its delusion as she had just realized why it was she found herself walking about on this particular night..
It was as if there were nothing more interesting in the entirety of this rather strange little world then her own personal daze, as any thought of the purpose to what she might have been doing or even how she may have gotten there had totally slipped her mind. Oh there was so much she had forgotten and it would be even worse for her to force herself to remember but even strange odors of intoxication from a land of her own seemed to find their limits among the laws of this cruel new reality that came in the form of this curious new little world around her known as Fabletown. There was the sound of crawling footsteps drawing nearer to her, as she had remembered the particular sound of similar dusty old books clapping their way along bitter pathway several times before. To her, it was as if the source of the approach was one who obviously brought about them a bold intention of illwill, an obvious threat of sorts who had shown no fear in displaying anger in his footsteps. The once dreamy expression that had poisoned her face with fantastical ecstasy would slip away as she'd find herself only now turning her head to address the other closing the distance between her. It was as if the entire engagement had come forth through the obscurity of slowed motion, as the simple touch of the stranger's grasp upon her shoulder felt much more like a shove or crude gesture to her, then what it really had been. A simple pat on the side of her shoulder in reality, but to her an assault driven in violent madness by the hand of another who was far from in any way shape or form, the person she saw in her own mind and through those dilated eyes of misty blue wonder.
Oh how she had half a mind to throw sharp defenses of her own at the obviously rather kind individual who had approached her with nothing more than gentle steps and a light tap on the shoulder. Her former expression of ridiculous fantastical euphoria had abandoned her, as instead she found her brow tilting and her lips tensing in sharp apprehension only moments later. With the turn of her head, she'd take in his very real features and deem them strange and anything but settling to her which had slowly begun to remind her that this man was not who she had originally thought him to be. That was besides the purpose of her reaction however as oddly enough there were several of him, splitting right down the middle as if he were a phantasmal image of a realistic person being split into several ghastly variations of his one true self, if there was really one true source of the visual madness at all? As she'd weigh in the very mundane features of the one before her, she'd instead find her expression once again tilt about in strange confusion as if it were on the lighter side of a one-way scale. Without a single word, she'd watch the stranger's chapped young lips turn to attempt to form words, which had only come out to her as distorted tones and equally nonsensical frequencies. Had she lost her mind? Or was she dreaming? Perhaps she had forgotten what it was she was smoking? Her own vivid blue eyes would spark alive within concern and disbelief as after the slowed and chopped nonchalant clamour of the stranger's speech, she'd only just realize that she was completely not at all within her right mind.
There would be a small shudder escape her lips followed by the heavy shaking of her head as she'd make a desperate obvious effort to come back to reality. As she was, it seemed as if the world around her would seemingly fast forward back to the actual time in which it existed, visuals around her and former words having gone past her quickly snapping back into their proper place. The ambience of the quiet night around her had come back to her, as she'd verify for certain now that there was only one strange man before her and that the trail of smoke that in which she seemed to both create and follow had only come from the strange cigarette between two of her fingers and was anything but endless, only whisping off an inch or so from the source of its flame.
"I beg your pardon?" She'd find herself ask aloud, feeling quite silly for assuming the worst of the situation but not even sure, not quite understanding the reality of it. Or why it was this particular stranger that had broken her from her hysteric daze and for what reason? So many questions with no time to pay mind to them.. It made her feel rather uneasy to say the least.
The man had asked her to come along with him, to answer a few questions involving some sort of police work? Or so she had been told. The feeling of being selected under the premise of what the circumstances were for her assistance hadn't done very well to ease her forward in agreeing to go forth with the man but it wasn't like she had much other choice then that.. Or perhaps she could simply continue to venture down a very much more psychedelic variate of the true Fabletown that seemed to make so much more sense to her than the current..
The experience of being taken away for questioning had proven to be anything but comforting, as she'd much rather describe it as nerve-racking. But she had very little choice in the matter. The man took her to a strange building - one that she was certain she had been too before, but may have been mistaking for an odd mushroom-shaped and sized house back where it was she had originated from. Her mind was quite literally in the gutter as the realities of Fabletown, no matter how boring and unworthy of her interest as she had once considered them to be, had suddenly become so much more of a valid factor to her. In reality, she knew very little about this world, only being here for... well, her memory wasn't too great, but she knew she didn't quite fit in as well as some of the other fables did, or so she had heard? She really didn't know anything now, did she? If that were the case, then why would the authorities want to take her in for questioning? Had she done something wrong?
As she sat at the opposite end of the desk in the rather strange room containing a number of strange artifacts that were clearly not from this world, she wondered if she had honestly done something horrible. It took only a moment for her hands to begin fumbling about in front of her, as her vivid blue eyes widened with panic and she stared down at them wondering if she had done something terrible in fact with her own two hands. In a sudden frantic display of searching, she threw her hands to her shoulders, realizing now that the one who had brought her there had taken her purse and thus any form of relief she would often use in these sorts of situations where she felt completely out of control of herself. She realized she had nothing to ease the suffering of her own anxious emotions - no unhealthy addictions to fall back on - and instead found herself biting away quickly at her thumb in a soft rhythmical but intense speed as some depressing means of trying to comfort herself through a more simplified means of deprival.
It was a good thing the sheriff had shown up when he did otherwise who knows what Alice may have resorted too without another in the room to retain her focus on the very fragile but real reality that inevitably surrounded her, the one it was obvious she didn't quite like as much as the other. At the simple creaking chime of his own office door she'd find herself looking up, her eyes sharply reacting as if she bore not even a single flaw when it came to the health of her reflexes, which seemed odd for a young woman of her stature who did very much the variety of unhealthy things. The nervous tension of her wonderful blue ocean eyes would stare sharply over to the one who closed the distance between the two as suddenly her feelings of lonesome anxiety would quickly find a reason to ease themselves from the maddening condescension of her own despair.
"Why yes.. It is..- Though it would be more proper to refer to me as Alison for I feel it may do me more justice, if that is any consolation to you at all ?"
Suddenly the feels of dread and madness quickly seemed to be repelled by what could only be described as some sort of invisible force, one of good nature and welcoming but still remaining very much in the unknown. Though it would be strange for her to feel such things in the presence of Bigby of all people, as the two of them had never met before? Or had they..?
There would be no further words exchanged from her shaking bright red lips, as she could only find herself so eager to want to try one of his cigarettes but instead began to rationalize the depth of her choice now that she was fully away in this bitter reality around her. She'd only gently shake her head with a nervous smile and wave her hand at the pack of cigarettes as if to wish them away..</s>
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"RAAAAAARRR!!!" The mighty roar of the hulking goliath reverberated throughout the adjoining sections of the high security bunker buried deep underground in a secure location found in an isolated area miles away from civilization.
A section above, dozens agents of the secret agency known as SHIELD monitored the heavily reinforced room through several surveillance screens. Many others were awaiting orders for action within the adjoining rooms below, while even more stood by above for similar orders. Standing amongst those within the main surveillance area was a trench coated man whom watched on through his one good eye while those around him showed understandable concern.
"Sir, are you certain those restraints can hold him?" One of those men inquired; to which Nick Fury would answer with all honesty, "No. But they are the best we have available to us. Donated courtesy of Mr. Stark himself."
The restraints in question were titanium reinforced pieces which completely enclosed the arms and legs of the Hulk while keeping the beast restrained to the floor and wall, respectively. They had enough give for him to tug at them with all of his might, yet were built within the very cell itself in preparation for just such an occasion; making it near impossible to simply pull the restraints out of the walls. Inside of each restraint, a highly potent serum was being injected directly into the Hulk's bloodstream. Designed with help from Banner himself to try and suppress the Hulk's aggression, but any such affect they were having seemed negligible. Perhaps due in part to this current fit having less to do with rage and more so being related to another stimulant entirely.
"We owe Banner a lot for his assistance during the New York incident. But if his other side doesn't get itself under control..." Fury pondered with some consideration on how to possibly slay such an unstoppable force of nature; mulling over a few of their contingency plans while continuing, "My instincts keep saying we should put him down while we have the chance. But it would be a waste of a brilliant mind and an amazing weapon."
"Sir?" The voice of a lone agent drew Fury's gaze toward a monitor, which showed the arrival of perhaps their best hope in detaining this sudden situation.
"Patch me through." The dark figure instructed, as a secure channel was opened up between their observation area and the bunker below which was connected to the Hulk's cell; letting Nick speak through the intercom directly to the sole person inside whom awaited her final instructions, "I apologize for the sudden house call, Miss Romanoff. But as I'm sure you can hear on the other side of that reinforced door, we have urgent need of your presence." Another primal roar could be heard on the other side of said door, followed by the heavy pounding of an unspeakably powerful figure thrashing about in there.
"I trust you've been briefed on the situation. We'll be cutting off all means of surveillance upon your entry to his cell. Do whatever is needed to calm him down. By any means possible. Otherwise, and I cannot stress this enough, we'll be forced to take more lethal measures." Fury instructed - allowing a moments silence for the gravity of the situation sink in for the Avengers member - before ending the communication with a simple, "Good luck."
Inside of the cell, the Hulk huffed in place for a few moments as his body adjusted to the newest dose of the serum. The potent mixture servicing its purpose for those few fleeting moments, yet quickly burning through his increased metabolism as Hulk's mind flashed back to the source of his current 'frustrations'.
"Betty...." The goliath spoke slowly. The image of Banner's love flashing through his mind. Followed by primal imagery of the famed General's daughter. Naked. Beautiful. Servicing the Hulk in place of puny Banner. Being taken by the monstrous figure as he slammed the aching cock which currently threatened to burst through his tattered jeans any second now. Bruce may have gained a grasp on the anger which triggered the Hulk's transformations, but evidently the scientific mishap which cursed him with his alternate persona had found other means of stimulation for coming out on his own.
Unable to even relieve his own stress with his currently restrained hands, the hulking male growled deeply before letting out with a low rumble, "Puny men. Let. Hulk. OUT!!!" More harsh tugs at the restraints. A few noises which seemed a bit too close to the hard restraints actually bending for anyone's comfort. Yet still holding their prisoner for now, as the sound of a secure door unlocking could be heard from the far corner of the hard metal cell room.
"Hmm?" The Hulk let out; curious and already preparing to vent out his frustrations at whomever walked through that doorway, as his eyes soon settled upon the sight of a familiar and perhaps welcomed figure. Already, the Hulk seemed to at least be refocusing his efforts toward simply staring at the new arrival, rather than on trying to break free of his restraints. At least, so far.
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Calm him down by any means possible.
There was only one reason that Fury would call Natasha Romanov, better known as Black Widow, and say that. SHIELD had a super soldier they could call at any time; they had contacts with Stark Enterprises; they could even shoot Hulk with alien weaponry. But instead, they were calling in the Black Widow, a superspy and one of the few Avengers who didn't possess some uncanny super ability beyond extensive training and experience. She'd gone face to face with Banner before, but that had been Banner, not the Hulk. The Hulk would know her, would recognize her as an ally, and she might even be able to talk to him.
That wasn't why Fury sent her.
Though Natasha never talked much about it, not that she talked much about anything, she'd received training with the Russians first. The Russians were a little more... rounded in their thinking than SHIELD. SHIELD might have given some of their agents training like Natasha had, but she doubted it. They didn't have the balls, in some cases, literally. Natasha knew how to fuck an enemy into submission, to please a target as well as kill one. She'd done it before, more times than she cared to remember. Sometimes it wasn't so bad, when she got a handsome young man or an incredibly skilled lover. Once, she'd had to assassinate a Middle Eastern prince who'd proved remarkably adept with his tongue. She'd enjoyed herself thoroughly before taking his head between her thighs and twisting.
Natasha was good looking. In fact, "good looking" was an understatement; Thor had once mentioned that the Black Widow could have contended herself among the gods of his homeworld. Her features were fine, as though carved from ice into the ideal vision of a cold beauty. Blue eyes looked out from a face so stunning that men often stopped to stare. They might look at her plump lips or admire the breasts that swelled even in her compressing SHIELD uniform. Or perhaps they stared at her heart-shaped ass, a plump section of rock hard flesh. Yes, rock hard, for Natasha had a spy's body: all lean, all deadly. Perhaps that was part of what made her look all the better, like some valkyrie. Perhaps that was even what Thor had seen, not that he'd looked long; his eyes were elsewhere. Other eyes though, other eyes lingered upon her frame, enjoying the thought that this beauty might give way to them.
But the Widow was cold, some would say heartless. She didn't give herself willingly to many. The training made her a spectacular lover, and she could enjoy sex, even with a pathetic lover. Still, it had been ages since she'd received any such pleasure, having had a quick fling after New York with Hawkeye. Now he was off on another mission and the Widow was suiting up for a seduction mission. This meant skimpy panties that were somehow SHIELD uniform. They covered Natasha's shaven sex before circling her hips, forming a line of fabric that split the perfect globes of her ass. She'd then zippered into a variation on the SHIELD uniform. This one had a zipper that opened up most of her front, baring her skin as though it were a fruit. No weapons, nothing beyond a heavy aesthetic attached to her wrist via a launcher. Last resort. She'd made certain to take necessary shots; she kept up. Twin pasties covered the top of her breasts, partly to protect her nipples, and partly, like most of the rest, to entice her target further. She left her zipper partially undone, baring the white valley of her cleavage. Lipstick and makeup had been applied, and thus she was ready.
Natasha entered, keeping her eyes on Bruce. It hurt to see him like that, but she knew better than to go too soft. Her eyes raked his body, wondering for a moment if this was even possible. Did the Hulk keep his genitalia? Did they shrink like a 'roid addict, or did they grow in accordance with his new size? Part of Natasha fervently hoped for the former, especially if the Hulk grew a little too... rambunctious. None of that reservation showed on her impassive face as she approached her old teammate.
"I see you're still angry," she said, trying to meet the Hulk's eyes. She reached up, giving the signal for them to turn off monitor. No way in hell was she letting them get the tape; she'd remain in contact with Fury and Fury alone. And if he got aroused, well, maybe she'd finally found out what the chief was packing. "You know we can't let you out until you calm down," she continued. She paused just out of reach, crossing her arms over her breast. "So what are you hoping to accomplish here? What's the idea, Banner?" If Banner could even still be reached...</s>
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There have been rumors of a website going around the internet. Rumors about how there's a very special website, hosting amateur netorare sextapes. These aren't just ordinary sextapes where a couple decides to try out something kinky. No, these are sextapes of wives and girlfriends getting fucked and screaming out the name of the man fucking them, the name of a man who isn't their husband or boyfriend. Yes, these are videos of women cheating on their significant others and finding pleasure with another man. It started as a link appearing in popular chatrooms, then many other sites began posting about its information. Many people expressed interest in it, while others found themselves very disgusted by the very idea of such a site. Some people think of this man in the video as a hero, a man who reached out and did what most people couldn't do. Others, and by that meaning mostly the victims of these videos, want nothing more than to see this mysterious man's head on a platter. Some of the people interested though are other women, women who are displeased with their men and wish to spice up their lives. It became something of an urban legend, and still gets many visits every day. The host of the site posts his contact information, but many people are unsure as to whether this information is real or not. Angry boyfriends and husbands use it only to be met with more anger and frustration, curious women use it and find the pleasure they truly seek.
Tatsumi Oriharasat at his computer, viewing the little internet sensation he's created. It was on a whim that he decided to post some videos of sextapes he's made with women he's fucked, and it quickly became huge. His site was flooded with comments, both asking him for more and also wishing for him to die. While he laughed at the haters, he valued his fans and loved to give them what they wanted.
Tatsumi was an interesting man, with many lovers but also many enemies. Luckily for him, he had connections that kept him safe. Tatsumi grew up in a rich household; his father was the head of a government facility. Due to his wealthy background, he'd never really had to work to get anything in his life. If Tatsumi wanted it, it was simply given to him. So when he got older, he expected everything to be handed to him as well. Unfortunately, things were harder for him sometimes. Not everything was given to him right away, and other times, he had to use his father's connections to get them. If some guy was giving him a hard time, he would simply use his connections to make him stop. If he was interested in some woman, he'd buy her out. Eventually, when he became an adult, he started a life of his own, moving out and getting his own penthouse apartment. He became a bit of a playboy, going out into town and hitting on women. When he took women home, he'd start recording them during sex, capturing footage of them in pure ecstasy. They'd scream his name, and a few of them even apologized to their boyfriends about how they were no longer good enough. After a while, Tatsumi collected a small library of these videos, some of them involving the same woman. Eventually, he created his website and started uploading videos, which led to where he was today.
About a week after he began his site, he began receiving some messages, claiming to be women who were interested in meeting him. He began talking to them, and eventually he'd meet them, and make a few more videos. Then it hit him - having more women meant more videos. So he created a page for women to contact him, although he wasn't an idiot. Since he posted the real names and faces of the women, of course there would be angry boyfriends and husbands wanting to get back at him. So instead of posting his personal contact information, he posted a separate contact and address dedicated to the site. That way he'd be able to moderate who was trying to contact him, and who simply wanted to kick his ass. If it really was a woman, then he'd reply to her and meet with her. And if she was good enough, he'd give her his personal information, and they'd meet again. So he eventually made his own personal harem - a network of beautiful women, all wanting his cock, and even willing to betray their men for him.
His most recent video was titled Hinata Hyuga, and it began with a beautiful girl, presumably Hinata Hyuga, sitting on a couch, wearing a purple hoodie and blue sweat pants. Tatsumi played the cameraman as he held on to the camera and began interviewing Hinata. "Thanks for coming Hinata-san. Why don't you tell me why you're here." The girl blushed and looked down for a moment, a little nervous.
"I-I'm here because my boyfriend Naruto-kun, is unable to please me in bed," she spoke in a soft and nervous voice, but as she continued, she soon began to appear irritated.
"I've loved him ever since I was young, and I was truly happy when we started going out. But, when we finally had sex, it was over after a few minutes and he passed out. Since then, I've never been able to find pleasure in sex, the man I've loved for so many years, can't make me cum." She said as she raised her voice. Afterwards, she took a deep breath and looked at the camera, smiling at Tatsumi.
But now, I've found Tatsumi-sama's website, and he answered my messages. And now..." She paused as she began unzipping her hoodie, revealing that she had nothing underneath, her large breasts hanging freely.
"But now, I've found Tatsumi-sama's website, and he answered my messages. And now..."She paused as she quickly followed with removing her sweat pants, revealing her bare pussy to the camera. While it embarrassed her to say something so dirty, she was serious. Pulling off her hoodie, she quickly followed with removing her sweat pants, revealing her bare pussy to the camera.
Tatsumi proceeded to approach Hinata, the camera moving closer to her. When he stood right in front of her, he looked down, revealing his crotch to be in front of her face. She smiled and reached up to pull down his pants. When his pants fell to the ground, Hinata was almost smacked in the face by his large cock. She paused for a moment, looking at it in awe. "It's so big. I've seen the videos, but I didn't think it was really this big."She then touched it, her soft hands wrapping around his girth. Hinata began slowly stroking him, until soon, she licked it, from the base, all the way up to the tip.
"It's delicious. So much tastier than Naruto-kun's," she said before grinning as she placed her lips over the tip and slowly moved down. After about a minute of her head slowly moving down and taking in more of his cock, she began to speed up, her head bobbing up and down his cock, making loud slurping noises as she moaned, vibrating his cock. Finally, Tatsumi reached out and grabbed the back of Hinata's head with both hands, revealing that the camera was a headset, and forcing her head down and making her take in his entire cock. With Hinata's face buried in his crotch, she looked up at him, tears in her eyes, but she didn't struggle. Instead, she moaned louder. While she could hardly breathe, she was extremely turned on, reaching around and grabbing Tatsumi's hips, pulling them towards her face, willingly keeping her face in his crotch. He inhaled his scent, trying to keep his cock in her mouth for as long as she could. Amazingly enough, she kept it there for a couple of minutes before she finally pulled her head back and released the cock from her mouth, gasping for breath.
With tears in her eyes, she looked up at Tatsumi with a lustful smile as she tried to catch her breath."Fuck me... I want your cock," she said as she leaned back onto the couch, spreading her legs open for him. Tatsumi simply laughed as he began grinding his cock against Hinata's dripping wet pussy. "What was that, Hinata-san? Tell me what you really desire." He taunted her. Hinata reached down and began spreading her lips apart, smiling into the camera.
"I want Tatsumi-sama to fuck me with his big cock! Make me forget about Naruto-kun!" And with that, her soft voice was followed by a loud shriek as Tatsumi's cock was thrusted into Hinata's pussy. Tatsumi laughed again and spoke as his hips began to thrust, the camera watching as his cock thrusted violently in and out of her pussy. "Did you really just cum? We only started and you've already came?" He laughed harder, thinking about how she mentioned that Naruto never made her cum, and Tatsumi did it with such ease.
Hinata was unable to respond, her tongue was hanging out as she moaned, her mind lost almost right away.
Hinata's heavy breasts bounced with each thrust, a loud clapping noise could be heard whenever their hips met, and Hinata was gasping and moaning as if she had gone insane. After a few minutes of Hinata moaning and screaming like a madwoman, she finally threw her head back and spoke, or at least attempted to speak."I'm sorry... I'm sorry... Naruto-kun... He's so much better... I can't stop cumming..." It was as if she was trying to form complete sentences, but her gasps and moans replaced some of the words."I'm his now... I'm his woman... Tatsumi-sama's cock is the only cock for me..." As Hinata returned to gasping for breath in between her moans and screams, the Tatsumi took the time to zoom in his camera and slowly scan over Hinata's body. Her breasts bouncing wildly, the wild expression of pure bliss on her face, her tongue hanging out of her mouth as she continued to gasp and moan, her arms reaching for Tatsumi's hands, her hands gripping for him with all her might, her pussy being filled with his cock, juices spraying from her each time his cock was shoved into her. This was clearly the best sex she'd ever had.
Finally, Tatsumi spoke up again. "I'm gonna cum, Hinata," he said, getting ready to pull out. However, her legs locked, keeping him inside of her.
"I want Tatsumi-sama's cum! Fill me with your cum! Give me your babies!" she shouted, screaming once again as she reached yet another orgasm, her body flailing wildly. At the same time, Tatsumi came, filling Hinata with his seed, giving her the biggest creampie she'd ever experienced in her life. Once he was finished, he pulled out and stepped away. For a few minutes, Hinata's body remained on the couch, occasionally twitching, but mostly remaining motionless. She was giggling as she tried to catch her breath, happy to have found the perfect lover. After a few minutes, she finally got up and looked up at the camera. With Tatsumi's cock in her face, she began licking the cum off of it, smiling at the camera.
"I still love you, Naruto-kun," she said, "but Tatsumi-sama's cock is way better than yours. I still want to marry you, but we are having his kids. And be sure to raise them well, because I want a big family." She winked at the camera before the video ended. While the camera was shut off, they continued their sex, and Tatsumi lost track of how many times he came inside of Hinata. In the end, she had to stay the night since she passed out from the final orgasm.
Hinata became one of the lucky girls to receive his contact information, and Tatsumi planned to meet her again, wanting to fuck her brains out some more. With the video recently going up, it already reached thousands of views. As he leaned back and watched the numbers go up, he wondered something. Who might be watching this video? Maybe his next star was masturbating to this right now. As he wondered, he got his phone out and got ready to call the next girl to set up a meeting.
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A wise woman will tell you that in a relationship, Love and Devotion are the most important traits a man can have. An honest one will tell you it's wealth and a good cock. You can be the most wonderful person in the world and still be useless as a man if you cannot satisfy your woman both financially and sexually, no matter how big your heart may be. This is why so many women fell for a morally bankrupt individual like Tatsumi, they know he does not respect anyone but his love for spreading his sextapes has shown, but whatever humiliation they had to suffer was worth it when his foot-long cock ruined them for other men, when he spoiled them like queens. In fact, being his woman is seen as a badge of honor by many, Hinata Hyuga being the latest of these individuals, but not the last, certainly not the last.
Oh..she's getting fucked so good!"Tifa Lockhart moaned, hands working hard to pleasure herself as she watched her laptop screen for the livestream of Mr NTR's newest conquest, a shy young woman named Hinata who, by the end of the first round of sex with the Legendary woman-stealer, was turned into a dirty little slut.
"..He's not done yet..Mr NTR never finishes with just one creampie.." Tifa chuckled, reaching for a toy she keeps to satisfy her craving for a big, thick cock, something her boyfriend Cloud can't seem to provide for her. For all his fondness of overtly macho toys, such as his big motorcycle, Cloud is anything but a Stud.
"Oh...Go deep..Fuck her deeper" the bartender cried out, her hands pumping the dotted dildo rapidly inside her soaked cunt, but long before the tape ended, her arms gave out and Tifa was left with a grin as she made up her mind. With trembling hands, she used her phone to send her application to be the next star in the video.
If it was that good just watching him fuck a woman..imagine how it feels to actually have him inside her?
No, no way this is for real!"Ovelia Remington laughed as she watched the video. Claudia, her friend on the other side of the phone sent her a link to Mr NTR's newest show, being a follower herself.
"It is real, Vee, that's actual footage"
"No, no way, look at the time stamp, four hours? You're telling me this guy is banging that poor girl for four hours straight? Nuh-uh Claudia, can't be real, and he blew his load like, what, three times? Four? The human body doesn't work that way, even Warren needs at least twenty minutes to recover, and you know that Fiancee of mine is a stud."
The brief moment of silence from across the line was worrisome, it told the redhead that her friend is planning something mischievous.
"Want me to recommend you to him? Think of it as your bachelorette party before you tie the knot with your prince charming..Afterall..If you love him so much, one last fling won't change your mind, would it?..I promise you Vee..He'll blow your mind."
She hated being challenged like this.
"Fine" Ovelia sighed. "Let's do this."
The pregnancy test showed negative. Again.
"Oh god..It can't be.."Sophitia Alexandrasigned, burrying her face in her palms. Her husband and her had been trying to conceive for months now, to no avail. She was at the peak of her fertility, but he had always been less than virile. Maybe she needed outside help. That's when she heard it.
"I still love you Naruto-kun, but Tatsumi-sama's cock is way better than your's. I still want to marry you, but we are having his kids. And be sure to raise them well, because I want a big family."
It was that livestream she'd found from a friend, it seemed Mr NTR is going one step further today, impregnating his partner. That's when the spark of an idea appeared in her head.
"..Maybe.." she muttered. "Maybe I shouldn't.."
But with each climax the lovers shared on screen, with every big batch of seed injected inside the willing woman, Sophitia became more and more intrigued.
"..How much cum can he produce?.." The housewife asked, biting her lips, her hands slowly caressing herself as the man started ravaging the lucky girl from behind, shooting his load inside her once more.
"..It..It might work" she nodded. She needed to type her application</s>
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Once Johnathan swung the heavy oak and iron door shut behind him, he placed his back against the cold stone wall and let out a sigh. He hadn't understood why the man he'd paid to take him up here had been so adamant that he'd be turning his carriage around shortly before sundown. Johnathan had rather assumed that the man had seen a stranger appear in town and decided that this would be a perfect chance to charge triple his usual rate. It wasn't until the sun was almost down and the wolves had started to howl that Johnathan had realized that he really should have waited until the next morning to ride to the castle. Still, he'd made it here in one piece and had somehow managed to keep his bag with him in his haste. It would have been a wasted trip if he'd lost the documents that the countess would need to facilitate her relocation to London.
Johnathan pushed away from the wall as another howl split the air, prompting a wry smile to form on the man's face at the thought of the wolves' disappointment at being denied their meal. He was just grateful that the countess had been kind enough to instruct him to let himself in when he reached her home. The letter had suggested she preferred to do business in the evenings so Johnathan wasn't entirely certain he'd find her up yet and he certainly wasn't going to go searching the castle for a lady's bedchambers. Mina wouldn't enjoy hearing about that in his letters, that much was certain. Of course, posting said letters was going to be more difficult now. He'd sent one off when he arrived in town to let her know that he'd arrived safely but if correspondence necessitated braving wolves and skittish carriage drivers he'd probably be better off waiting and sending her another letter as he began his return journey.
He removed his coat and found a spot for it near the door before proceeding into the building, helping himself to a candlestick that happened to be at hand and showing himself around. The scent of food caught his attention and he turned his feet to follow. Surely he was expected and he presumed that the countess wouldn't be far off if dinner was being served. A flickering fire in the dining room's fireplace, along with a multitude of candles illuminated the room. He approached the table but was loath to sit until he'd found his hostess.
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As Jonathan waited, hot steam and enticing aromas wafted from the food upon the table: freshly cooked meat and vegetables, warm bread, honey, butter, and wine all lay temptingly before him, and the sight and scents of it all served only to remind him how long it had been since he'd had a truly good meal. The journey from England to the Carpathian mountains had been a long one, and even though the taverns he'd stayed in had on occasion served good food, in memory they simply gelled into one mediocre meal, always in uneasy company and cramped surroundings. The castle may not have been in magnificent repair, but still it was spacious and warmed by an open fire, and the meal was more reminiscent of Mina's home cooking than of some tavern stew. Gratefully, he did not have long to wait before the countess made her presence known. Silently she ghosted down the stairs, her attire all lace and gossamer, and as black as the night sky. Her hair, too, was black; her lips a rich, blood red upon blanched, snow-white skin. She wore a long dress whose tails skirted the floor, and whose bodice clung tightly to gently curving hips, and full breasts. Her nails were long and pointed, painted red, and if she wore footwear at all they were hidden beneath the reach of her dress. When she spoke, her presence took him by surprise; one moment he had been waiting on her, the next she was slipping past him and into view, a polite, if mysterious smile on her blood red lips. "The food will not stay warm for long," she said, her voice intoned with the deep, sultry accent of Transylvania. As she spoke, the countess slid around the table and faced Jonathan across the steaming plates, before settling into a high-backed armchair and crossing one leg over the other. "Sit. Eat. I am Countess Cocula; you must be Mr. Harker, no?"</s>
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"Uck. Feel like I'm going to be scrubbing muck out of my fur for a week," Beast Boy complained to himself while looking over the gunk that was currently staining his uniform. At his side was Starfire, the Tamaranean alien Princess and one of his fellow teammates on the Teen Titans, as they made their way down one of the hallways for Titan Towers after a hard-fought mission.
"Oh goodness...that mud monster was quite strong," Starfire remarked, wincing as she tugged at one glob of goo tangled into her glorious red hair. "And we have a meeting to attend soon too." She turned her focus toward the green-skinned human. "Oh! Perhaps we could save time if we shower together Beast Boy! After all, it is a custom on my planet to have group showers after a hard fought battle!"
The suggestion came suddenly enough for Beast Boy to literally stop dead in his tracks. His body comically stiff as a board as it stood in a straight upward position, before slowly turning his head with rather disbelieving eyes at his teammate, "Wait. You mean. Me? And you? Shower?" This seemed too good to be true. Sure, Starfire's culture tended to clash a lot with Earth standards, so it's not like he doubted the sincerity. But there was Robin. There was common decency. There was... that cute, perfect alien figure which stood there before him with that same wide eyed cuteness she often held.
"I think... that... is a great idea, Starfire!" Beast Boy suddenly let out with a wide smile and an approving thumbs up at the orange skinned beauty. Don't worry about Robin, he figured. It was just a shower. An innocent, platonic shower between friends and teammates. Besides, he was always on time for meetings.
Already changing his direction to head toward the showers, Beast Boy was eager to start before anything ruined this one time chance, "C'mon, Star! The quicker we get in there, the more we can focus on getting cleaned up before the meeting starts."
A short time later, the two young Titans would indeed find themselves alone in the shower area of the Tower. Beast Boy let Starfire prepare on her own as he got the waters ready. "This has to be a dream," the shapeshifter uttered under his breath while checking the water temperature; his uniform still on at the moment aside from the gloves as he considered the worse, "Or maybe Cyborg's pulling some crazy, messed up prank on me? Man, I'm so putting novelty bumper stickers on his back again if that's the case." Around then, the sound of another approach would draw Beast Boy's attention away from the by now ready shower; causing the somewhat skeptical teen to turn around and verify who was there.
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Indeed, to the alien princess known as Starfire this was all an innocent expression of kinship and friendship. Her people commonly held communal washes on Tamaran, to clean the blood off their friends after a hard-fought and well-won battle. And what luck that Beast Boy accepted the suggestion, Raven had turned down the alien princess when she made the offer the first time.
So once alone in the woman's changing room, the orange skinned alien was quick to remove her stained purple tube top, revealing her generous orange breasts, followed by her purple miniskirt to show off her shaved mounds. "Goodness, these clothes are filthy," Starfire remarked aloud as she took her gloves off, before stepping out of her knee-high boots. The freedom was much obliged, and soon she was fully naked. Covered in monster mud in a few places, but still naked. Small wonder she was the object of desire for many boys in Jump City, even if she was oblivious to that.
Well now that she was ready to go, she quickly started flying toward the shower itself, deciding to meet up with the green-skinned hero in the men's room. "Beast Boy!" she remarked, sounding like a fussy mother. "You are not naked yet! You cannot wash in your clothes, you'll never get clean like that." she said firmly, placing her hands on her rounded hips. "Do you require assistance undressing?" the innocent alien asked, tilting her head to the side.</s>
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Callie was a little surprised that the restaurant was as busy as it was, she didn't know why but she had thought that in the midst of war people might not be as inclined to partake in fine dining as usual. It seems she was wrong though, in fact it seemed even busier than the last couple times they had come here. She supposed if she really thought about it it made sense though, people wanted some form of normalcy and perhaps they felt the need now more than ever to enjoy themselves and indulge. It wasn't too dissimilar for her and her husband, Corran, either. Normally a date night wasn't so expensive or high end, but it had been a little while since they had been able to go on one, and the last time he had had to leave almost as soon as it began. So she supposed that he felt the need to make it up to her. Callie didn't mind that one bit.
The galaxy had been tangled in a strange war for a few months now, one that none of them had really thought could or would happen. A war with the Reapers. The Council had assured them all that they were mere myth, that Commander Shepard, the Savior of the Citadel was misinformed and only being hyper alert in the aftermath of the Attack on the Citadel by the rogue Spectre Saren and his flag ship, Sovereign. There had even been rumors that humanity's greatest hero had cracked under the pressure. Then she had died, and everything had seemed to quiet down. Life had returned to normal, just like everyone wanted, and her warning had gone ignored. That was impossible now, and not just because Shepard had returned from the dead like a ghost, but because the Reapers had arrived.
Earth had fallen first, targeted as an apparent threat, and one by one the home worlds of the Citadel races were being pulled into the fray. It felt strange to be sitting here in a restaurant with her husband, wearing a sleek, short black dress and her long black hair down in loose curls, the bottom half streaked with dark green, and her finely featured, angular face dolled up a little with makeup, while Earth burned. Callie had never had to wear much in the way of makeup to make herself look good, she was beautiful, and Corran was handsome, they made a good-looking couple. They'd been married about a year and a half, though how long they'd actually been together was a matter of contention between the two of them. Corran considered it to be the day they'd met, claiming he'd known then that he was going to marry her; Callie considered it some six months later, when he finally convinced her to start a relationship with him. A proposal had come soon after, then they'd both let their contracts with the military run out, gotten married, and moved to the Citadel.
Coran's application to Citadel Security had been accepted almost immediately, and Callie, who had been a medic in the Alliance Navy, had gotten a job at Huerta Memorial Hospital. The next year had been a normal one, a happy one, even if sometimes Callie did feel bored. She tried to keep herself busy with kickboxing and wall climbing and work, never having been the sort to be happy being idle, now they were both so busy they barely got to see one another. As the war had started, refugees of all races had come pouring into the Citadel, as had injured soldiers. C-Sec was scrambling to keep up, and so were the hospitals, with only the worst cases being sent to Huerta.
Tonight though they were trying to just slow down. They'd just finished their appetizers and were waiting for their meals, an opened bottle of wine on the table for them to share. Technically they were both on call right now, but Callie had made it clear that she was taking tonight off, and Coran had assured her that his sergeant said he could have tonight too. And since Callie wanted to get laid and Corran was always a bit friskier when he had a little booze in him, she had insisted on wine. Neglected was maybe a bit strong of a word to describe how she'd been feeling about their relationship lately, but it was close.
So have you seen the previews for the new Blasto movie? Looks pretty good, Callie chuckled, since by "good" she meant cheesy and over-dramatic, but that's what made the series so endearing. Who could take a movie about a Hanar seriously?
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Corran's eyes were reflective of his joyous mood. Despite the fact that C-Sec had more or less dumped the workload of two or three officers on his shoulders, he convinced himself it was because if the Citadel wanted justice, it was his responsibility to police it. Society would think that with the advanced understanding of the universe, a certain level of sophistication would follow, but the truth was that society just found new and interesting ways to descend into depravity and exploit those who were dealt a weaker hand in life. Corran was the razor thin line that kept those people from harm. Yet... all of that sense of self-assurance and understanding wasn't what kept him happy. It was the woman sitting across from him, a broad smile cracked his handsome face, and it stayed put as he reached across the table to let his fingertips dance gently along the backside of her hand.
"Blasto? Mhh... if we want to get a good laugh, I say we see it tomorrow. If you just want to see people get shot, you could follow me around for a day."
A chuckle rumbled up baritone chords but it was relatively quiet compared to the low rumble of the chatter from all the restaurant patrons. Corran used his free hand to grasp the base of the wine bottle and showed an uncanny precision as he poured the contents into his glass. Not a single drop spilled, but this was no surprise considering his profession required absolutely steady hands. Once the wine was poured into his own glass, he leaned forward some in his chair to reach to her side of the table. His brow was arched in question, and a tip of his head was to gesture towards her wine glass followed by "Refill, love?"
Callie was a spark of beauty among a world of tainted. It's not that the C-Sec or Military life had ruined Corran's outlook on all of society, but he was acutely aware of how quickly a person could devolve into a monster. While it certainly wasn't fair to place her atop such a pedestal, she was almost this idea of what a woman or person could be: beautiful, passionate, and always focused on saving a life or bettering the situation of a person who was wounded. It's almost as if they fought the same war but on different fronts. As confident and headstrong as Corran was, Callie had become something of an emotional rock for him, keeping him steady despite the crashing waves of pressure from his career. So it was no surprise then that he'd fallen so completely and absolutely for her when their relationship blossomed, and even now, married years later, she was still a treasure to him.
"I'd think you'd want to see something with a little more skin than Blasto though..." Corran teased, his right eyelid falling shut in a fast wink as if the words weren't indication enough to what he meant.</s>
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Totally. Fuckin'. The whole cockpit shook as the massive feet of the ATAT crunched down into the thick snow on the surface of Hoth, bouncing Captain Nancy Green in her seat like a small child in a papoose. Of course this particular baby was wearing a ridiculously bulky black helmet and had her hands all up in the navigational gubbins of a three kiloton siege engine. She shoved the yoke forward and Big Betty took her first ponderous stomp toward the distant Rebel base. The smaller, nimbler ATST units swarmed ahead, weaving in and out between the Betty's legs like a hungry wolfpack.
Nancy wasn't a big person. In fact by all accounts she was downright scrawny. But at the helm of Betty, some fifty feet up in the air, she was just too high up to hear the haters. The other two giant metal camels in her squadron fell in beside her, the Arx Imperia and the Glory of Coruscant. She knew their captains well enough, and they were both stuffy as hell. Captain Gloria of the Glory, in particular, was probably the most frigid bitch in the quadrant. Probably felt right at home on Hoth.
The comm chimed and orders spewed in over her helmet's display; Betty on point. Nancy switched off the safeties. Which safeties? Every fuckin' one of them. Suddenly Betty lurched forward at full combat speed, kicking over some especially ballsy Rebel scum on a tauntaun. Who fucking rides fluffy kangaroos into a war zone anyway? Reaching above her to flick a big friendly red switch (with a tag hanging from it that read: Nancy, don't touch!) Nancy activated the PA system and blasted the Rebels with power ballads from her homeworld. Mostly tracks by the Nerf Herders with selected compositions by the Wookiee Cunts, classy stuff.
"Gunner!" she shouted, too focused on keeping the Betty on course to spare a glance to her cabin-mate. "Can you give me a reason, any little reason, why you aren't lighting these bitches up?"
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It doesn't get any better than this.
"Yeah! You better run!" The young blonde cried out from the gunner seat. She brushed her shoulder-length hair behind her ears once again. Thankfully most of her targeting was through the computer, so she didn't have to wear the ridiculously large amount of gear that her companion Nancy did. She instead just wore her normal imperial uniform, which despite her large chest and wide hips, made her look pretty damn ordinary like everyone else.
But everyone else didn't have the best damn job around.
Sarah scanned the horizon once more, blasting rebel after rebel who were dumb enough to stand and fight the multiple stories tall mechanical beast. Rebel after Rebel, speeder after speeder, just a couple quick movements from her and they would go flying right on top of a giant explosion. How much better can life get? Unfortunately though, the rebel cruisers were demanding the majority of her attention, she didn't even want to think about the amount of shit she would be in if this thing got brought down.
She rolled her eyes as she heard Nancy yelling. "Because! I am trying to keep us walking so that you can step on these 'bitches'! Also turn off the damn PA system!" She yelled back, as she blasted another foolish rebel who thought a rocket launcher would slow them down.</s>
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Harold Tassiter vigorously rubbed his wrinkled hands under the warm water of his gold cast bathroom sink, and squinted at his reflection in the highly polished platinum mirror. His glasses clung to his face cruelly, giving his already hawkish face an evil, haughty appearance. The CEO of Hyperion grumbled something under his breath as he turned off the ornate faucet, and dried his hands on a gaudy, plush crimson towel emblazoned with the Hyperion Logo on it. He tossed the towel into the trash.
Harold could always have the slave labor camps on Pandora make thousands more. After all, he was doing that rabble population a service, giving their lives purpose and the honor of serving his needs. Everyone should be so lucky.
The Gaunt Chief Executive officer quickly whirled on his highly polished designer dress shoes, and entered his lavishly furnished office to continue his latest scheme. Only to stop dead in his tracks upon the crimson rug leading to his personal restroom. There was a gorgeous woman in a dirty looking cowboy style hat, lounging in a very sexy position on his heavy mahogany desk, with her magnificent legs crossed, her back arched, thrusting her shapely chest outward as she rest upon her arms. His favorite black leather high tech backed chair was turned around, and facing away from him.
Harold's normally squinty eyes shot open, and his nostrils flared angrily. "Who in the hell are you? And get off that desk now!!! SECURITY!!!" The skinny corporate man yelled at the top of his lungs. But no one came.
The big leather chair suddenly spun around, and seated upon it was his second in command. Someone who should have been dead, yet sat there with a smug look on his face, about to light one of his priceless Cuban cigars, imported all the way from Terra. Harold Fumed, and took an angry step toward His Vice President Jack. Only to stop dead in his tracks again as he noticed a gorgeous red .50 caliber semi automatic pistol in Jacks hand pointed right at him.
Harold didn't even have time to be scared for his life. The large bore pistol belched fire and thunder twice, and Tassiter felt both of his kneecaps shatter violently as the diamond tipped depleted uranium shells ripped through his ligaments and as if they were paper mache...
White hot pain shot up his nerves to his brain, wracking him, making him convulse and cry out in anguish as he fell to the ground screaming, his blood spraying across both the Vice President and the gorgeous woman in a crimson cascade...
Harold lied there, impotent and powerless there on his rug, thrashing around as his broken knees flailed around, squirting torrents of blood everywhere...
Jack appeared unconcerned about his soon-to-be former boss, and more focused on the carefully rolled stick of aromatic tobacco in his hands. He fondled it with his finger tips for a few moments as Tassiter screamed all manner of curses at him...
He ignored Harold's cries, his pearly white teeth flashing as they bit the end off of the cigar. Grinning with his high tech cybernetic mask's actuators, Jack placed it between his cybernetic lips. He quickly lit the cigar with the secondary function of his pistol, placing the end of the cigar into the flaming ruby barrel of his weapon and took a few drags.... Only to contort his artificial face into a grotesque representation of pure disgust as Jack lept to his feet and coughed out violently....
The Vice President brought the smoldering tobacco roll up to his eyes and looked at it distastefully. "Oh my god, these things taste like a 90-year-old hooker's well fucked ass," he grumbled, and walked over angrily to the legless man whimpering on the carpet beneath him. He could always have that rug replaced later...
"As my first executive order, all of these damned things are outlawed immediately." Jack proclaimed matter-of-factly, and rubbed the smoldering red tip of the lit cigar into the forehead of Harold Tassiter, making him howl in rage. Then he stuffed the extinguished cigar into the crippled CEO's mouth, muffling his annoying cries somewhat.
He then turned his handsome masked face to the gorgeous woman on the heavy desk. "Alright dearest," he said to her with a seductive gaze and a smoldering edge to his rich voice. "What say you that we break in my new desk properly?" He approached her hungrily, ignoring the flailing Harold behind him without a second thought.
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Nisha had to admit, she had her doubts when Jack told her he was taking her to Helios for their first date. She wasn't expecting some romantic candlelit dinner, rather she would have loathed such a clichd gesture. There were some fond memories for her here, thinking back to how Jack so callously jettisoned those scientists and got her all hot and bothered. It wasn't until Jack explained what he intended to do here that she started to look forward to coming here.
As it so happens, Jack did not disappoint. Nisha let out a squeal of her own as she watched the powerful bullets rip through Tassiter's legs. Oh, how the blood spurted all over, drenching the carpet below him. She almost hoped Jack would keep it, so the sight of the bloodstained rug could get her panties wet every time she came here. Eh, Jack wasn't into violence the same way she was. Sure, he seemed to enjoy giving people what was coming to them, but to him, violence was a means to an end. He enjoyed the result, but she enjoyed the process. Eh, maybe he would let her keep the rug. A souvenir of a wonderful first date.
And this is why you want to use a Jakobs for this kind of thing. Nothing against Hyperions, of course hun. They are great for when you need to unload 30 bullets into a guy's chest cavity. But for this? You need that raw power. I mean, this is just beautiful. She gushed, hopping off the desk to join Jack as he towered over Tassiter. Her bare ass had left a lovely smudge on the glossy finish, and she was still impressed that jack had managed to talk her into wearing this...outfit. Trading in her jeans for some leather chaps and a thong, her practical kicks for these five-inch stiletto boots. Damn, if she hadn't already decided to fuck his handsome ass she wouldn't be caught dead in this ridiculously sexy getup. She would have to see if that silver tongue of his could work its magic elsewhere.
Oh Harold, this guy wanted to strangle you. Seriously, just strangle you. Aren't you glad I brought me along? Well, probably not. The only thing you seem to enjoy is having sticks shoved up your ass. She asked the man bleeding out on the floor. She put one heeled boot on the side of his head, digging the sharp heel into his pathetic face.
She turned to Jack now, running her hands over his chest and tangling her fingers in his hair. Well, if you are still in the mood to strangle someone, I am willing to evaluate your technique, She suggested, nibbling on his ear. Let's see if you can get me screaming louder than this guy.</s>
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Krystal had been feeling very sick these past few days, even throwing up a few times. "Ugh, what is happening to me? I've had all my shots.." she mused, looking around her giant blue bedroom in the imperial palace on the moon. Her long dark blue hair tails blew in the wind as she walked out to the balcony, looking out to Earth. "Oh Atem my love, I'm so excited for our wedding. Hopefully mother will let me go down to see you." She said, her big glacier blue eyes dreamy. There were a few things she had to attend to before leaving for Egypt though. The first being getting dressed. She was still in her pajamas.
Krystal happily dressed, singing their song softly to herself. She knew there was something going on in her body, but she didn't know what. Once she was properly dressed, tiara and all, she slipped off to the infirmary, where she told the Mercurian doctors her symptoms and they took some tests. She would have her answer shortly. She hoped she would be okay to see her spiky-haired Egyptian god tonight. She loved him so much. A few moments later, a nurse came into the room Krystal was lying in, smiling widely. "Princess, I am pleased to announce that you are pregnant! About 2 months along. I'm so happy for you highness. Pharaoh will be quite pleased, I am sure." She said, smiling again at the blue moon princess before leaving the beautiful princess alone with her thoughts.
"I'm pregnant?!?!" Oh, this is happy news, but I'm afraid of what Atem will say. Who knew that one night together after our engagement would change our lives forever," she thought to herself as she rubbed her stomach a little, getting a vision of their baby boy. "Marik. I'll name him Marik." She said with a smile as she left the room to prepare to go see Atem and tell him the shocking yet happy news. Krystal changed her dress at least 10 times before settling on a dark blue Egyptian cotton one that Atem had given her. It was his favorite dress on her. The young princess then painted her nails and toenails the same deep blue, smiling at her good handiwork. Next were her sandals. She chose dark blue leather ones with sapphires beaded onto them.
When she was done dressing, she put on some light makeup and looked into the mirror, smiling. "Perfect," she concluded, and was off to the throne room to ask her mother if she could go down to earth to see her handsome pharaoh. The queen simply nodded her head and Krystal bowed thankfully, manifesting some moon roses for her mother and kissing her cheek.
"Thank you, mother." She said with a bright smile and another bow, disappearing and landing right at Atem's chambers. She knocked lightly, hoping he wasn't sleeping, as it was around midnight his time.
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Atem was not asleep. In fact, he was very wide awake, staring out one of the windows, looking up at the moon. The moon where his beloved Krystal lived. How he missed her so and usually spent his nights looking out at the moon when she was away. He was shocked when he heard knocking on his door. Not many would dare to knock at his door, especially so late at night. He turned away from the window and headed toward the door. As he got closer to the door, he almost gasped. Was that really his beloved at the door? He cleared his throat to slightly dampen his excitement as a precaution just in case. Finally, he opened his door and smiled softly before pulling her into his arms and kissing her. "Krystal, my beloved," he said. "Not that I'm not happy to see you but what brings you here so late?"</s>
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Usagi watched the customers pass by the glass. Some of them paid no mind, others looked her up and down greedily and shook their heads at the price. One customer even laughed, she could hear them through the shop window, sharp and loud. Part of her thought he must have seen her shaking.
She was the last survivor of Crystal Tokyo. They were defeated, wiped out, and she was the remaining prize. She had spent decades fighting for her people and now there was nothing left. She had been boxed up and shipped out like an artifact from an ancient civilization.
Only she wasn't going to a museum. She was going to a slave shop... as a window piece.
Usagi was dressed to the nines. They had spent hours changing her and curling her long hair. Her long delicate curls were sported in their normal pigtails with little pink bows and gold stars tied in random places. Her pale skin was smooth and decorated with gold sparkles glittering in the neon lights of the downtown. She had on light makeup, gloss to make her lips more pouty, rouge to make her cheeks flushed, and dark mascara to bring out her blue eyes. Usagi squirmed under the alien's staring. She was also dressed in nothing but lingerie. Pink, sparkling lingerie, gold stars and little moons embroidered in the lace, and a sheer white robe lined with pink fur. The most embarrassing thing by far was the pink leather collar, with a little gold moon tinkling against the chain that held her in place.
She had been standing in the shop window like a mannequin on display for three days. She was past crying now, she just trembled as the aliens passed her. Usagi genuinely did her best not to even look at her potential owners. She ignored everyone that walked through the door, tensing when the shop keepers welcomed them. Crying wasn't going to help her, begging was useless, expecting anything less than the worst was pointless.
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Garrus had it all after helping to save the galaxy - money, fame, and power... but he didn't have a good woman for himself. He had tried dating after the event with the Reapers passed, but he just couldn't seem to hit it off with any girls. So, he decided to use his money and connections to buy himself a good-looking human slave. Ever since serving on the Normandy, he found himself very attracted to human females, despite being a Turian.
When he walked into the slave shop that Usagi was displayed in, he knew he had to have her, no matter what. He quickly struck up a deal with the owner - he would be allowed to fuck Usagi in the store for a very high price... then, if he enjoyed her, he could take her home after paying some more. Garrus waited eagerly for the owner to open up the display case Usagi was in so he could get inside and ravage her.</s>
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Hermione Granger openly gaped at the collection of house elves before her. It wasn't the elves themselves: Hermione had seen large gatherings of them before. She knew that several dozen, if not several hundred, of them worked day in and day out for Hogwarts. Hermione had literally seen them in action, had fought for them, formed SPEW. Yet what she saw now had her utterly dumbstruck.
"This---this can't be happening!" she insisted, knowing her voice went too loud in the large room. Like many rooms at Hogwarts, this one went unused for the most part. The castle had many such chambers tucked away, not only the Room of Requirement that Harry had found and used for the DA last year, but also several others. The house elves were certain to use them all. In fact, that was how Hermione had found... found this... orgy of debauchery stretched out before her.
Prefect Hermione Granger had been researching this for, well, it felt like months but weeks might have been more accurate. She didn't want to interfere with Harry right now, as he was busy taking lessons from Dumbledore and getting everything prepared for his inevitable confrontation with the Dark Lord. So Hermione figured that she could handle something like this by herself. Besides, it was hardly the sort of thing she really wanted Ron and Harry to know about. Just mentioning it to Ron would've resulted in belly laughter. House elves stealing witches' panties, seriously? Even Hermione had thought it ludicrous. Her own hadn't gone missing, but supposedly Ginny's and several other girls' had. As prefect it was Hermione's job to check it out. And as the president and founder of SPEW, it had been her task to believe the elves innocent until proven guilty.
Oh, how very guilty they were right now. The virginal teenager couldn't believe her eyes. Never in her seventeen (fairly recently turned, mind) years of life had she ever seen... this. Not even the few times she'd nearly stumbled onto Ron or Harry looking at illicit wizarding magazines or confiscated such materials from naughty students. The room was just... filled with house elves. There had to be at least a dozen, maybe twice that. And more than half had witches' panties wrapped around what appeared to be... well, it looked like their genitals. Hermione couldn't recall ever seeing house elves... genitalia before. Yet here she saw several very erect specimens.
Now, why did the female house elf who'd directed Hermione down here seem so bashful? The busy-haired girl simply couldn't believe her eyes. She kept working her lips, fighting the utter terror. "You!" she said, pointing at one of them. "You stop that---" Hermione paused, looking at a pair of panties, one that looked oddly... familiar. It took her a few seconds to realize why it did so and she flushed crimson. "Those belong to Ginny Weasley, not you!" she insisted, storming toward the elf in question, righteous indignation filling her every bone, making her small form quiver. She hadn't quite thought to reach for her wand yet: it still lay tucked into the pocket of Hermione's skirt, shoved against the side and nearly pushed up into her vest. Said grey vest, with Gryffindor color trim, covered a white blouse with rolled up sleeves. It all pushed down Hermione's already moderate bust, which heaved with indignation. A matching skirt, also fine grey with the Gryffindor trim, swished with nearly maximum regulation length meeting the top of a pair of long stockings.
"You give that up right now!" she insisted again, stomping a foot and gesturing toward the elf. "I can't believe you all would even consider... what do you have to say for yourselves?" And she looked around, wishing that she could channel Mrs. Weasley.
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The life of being a house elf was indeed troublesome. Having to work for witches and warlocks who often took their gifts for granted or mistreated them through malicious intent, clothing being their main bastion of sanctuary from that life. As such, it was perhaps little wonder why some number of these elves would take it upon themselves to have fun at the expense of the latest generation in those family trees. There was even perverse irony at play in how an article of clothing, namely young witch's panties, was the primary source of this fun, but none of the elves seemed to care on such matters as they busily went to work enjoying the ill-gotten wears.
A number of them didn't even appear to care when the Granger girl showed up on the scene, with a few of them even seeming to grow further aroused at the fact that one of the young witches they had so far ignored was now watching them play with her classmates underwear. The one busy with Ginny Weasley's panties simply stared at Hermione as she called him out on it, with a perverse little smile spreading across his inhuman features as he spat out, "Mine for now! She can have them back in another minute!"
His hand started jerking the panties even faster along his concealed cock as a few of the elves laughed at the response from their different placements within the room. The little witch is jealous, one suggested, while another that sat upon the table with one pair of panties on his head and the other hanging off his arousal suggested, "Are you mad we didn't take your panties, too?!"
Another chorus of perverse snickers came out of this, with the house elves gazes settled upon Hermione in a way that perhaps wasnt the most promising in terms of her intent on getting them to listen to what she had to say. Maybe we take your panties right now?! One house elf seated upon a nearby stool suggested, as it reached out with a cool poker from the nearby fireplace and snuck it under Hermiones skirt long enough to lift it and give them a good peek before she could brush the object away. They seemed to ignore any other words of indignation she had to say as they snickered and whispered amongst themselves in a less than promising way, before the young witch's attention would be returned to the elf that was busying itself with Ginny's panties. All done! Here! It called out, before suddenly flinging her friend's panties, now soaked with several loads of house elf cum, into her beautiful young face.
This earned a few cackles from the other elves, but this wasn't simply a lewd gesture on their parts, as the soaked panties acted as a big enough distraction for a couple of elves to sneak in on either side of the clever little witch. She needs to loosen up! One of the pair said, before Hermione was suddenly struck on either side by a bolt of magic. Even she could get to her wand in time to deflect one, the other should prove successful in hitting its target, as they aimed for the girl's midsection and hit her with a strong enough dose to likely cause a slight loss in balance.
By now, each of the elves had taken a break from playing with the panties in hand, as every one of them gazed upon the witch who would soon find her senses heightened in such a way that even her very clothing would prove uncomfortable to wear. Come on, now! Let us see those panties! A particularly bold house elf declared as it and another suddenly grabbed onto Hermione's stocking-covered legs; their slimy cocks rubbing themselves along the material of her stockings, while their skinny fingers reached under that lengthy skirt to teasingly stroke along her inner thighs as their hot breath could be felt upon her skin.</s>
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Happily ever afters were a thing of the past. At least for the heroic sort - the good-doers of legend, those who always got the last say. They had finally fallen. No more 'good always triumphs'. No more 'true love conquers all'. Finally, the villains had won. Finally, it was their turn for happily ever after. And with such a shift in power, the world was now a very different place.
No one knew this better than the uprooted royals - those who had tried their hardest to protect their kingdoms and had ultimately failed. Where once their lives had been filled with goodness, kindness, and innocence... there was now darkness, terror, and fear of the unknown. Families, friends, and lovers had been torn apart, shipped off to far corners of the land. Many had been sold to the highest bidder, while others had disappeared into the unknown, likely stolen straight out from under their keepers' noses. Everyone wanted a piece of the fallen heroes, after all, and having one of them in possession would boost your social status... and perhaps the price on your head, as well.
It was hard enough to secure and afford one of these prizes, but there were two others to keep Rapunzel company in the dungeon she had found herself in. Both were red-heads, though one was more muted while the other was as vibrant as the paints she had used back in the tower. The one with the vibrant hair had yet to say a word, however, and Rapunzel wasn't so sure that she could speak at all. She exchanged brief words with the other girl, but there wasn't much to discuss. After all, they had lost everything... and though usually the heroes could come back from this sort of thing... it didn't quite seem possible, this time around.
Life wasn't quite a fairytale anymore.
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Michael was a warlord who had conquered the land. With the money he obtained from his conquests, he bought the three beautiful women who were now in his possession in the dungeon. Tall and tan, he had a toned body that was in shape after seeing many wars. He wore glasses that he pushed up the bridge of his nose as he walked into the cell with a grin.
"My, my," he said, "what three beautiful women we have here...I want you to understand your place. You are my slaves now. You will do what I say, when I say. Otherwise, I will have you tortured and gang-raped by my guards." He motioned to his armed escort with a cheery smile. "Now then, do you three understand?" His cheery voice made it clear that he was sadistic.</s>
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The building was located in the middle of the Fire Nation and specialized in prisoners. The women had been kept in the worst of the worst prisons, and were offered the opportunity to go a nice place where they'd have their own bedrooms, access to better food, clothes that weren't rags, and several other "luxuries" but with one stipulation - this was a high end brothel.
How the place ran was the patrons bought special tokens to give the girls. This stopped the girls from having the money to be able to escape. The girls would use these coins to pay for their meals or buy something from the few stores in the brothel. There were different token that were for different things: the more extreme the sexual act the more it cost for the patrons to get and the more it was worth for the girls to use.
It had been about a year since some Fire Nation troops had attacked the group and taken Katara and Toph hostage. They'd spent that time in a prison where they were underfed and abused which made having a bedroom and three meals a day sound good even if it was at a price as by then their survival instinct had kicked in. When they arrived, they were given uniforms; short kimono dresses (Toph had a green one and Katara a blue one) and sandals. The men who ran the brothel had made it obvious that the uniform was to be worn all the time.
Katara felt the need to protect Toph as she was so much younger and the fact that wearing the uniform meant Toph couldn't use her earth bending to "see" and she truly was blind. Katara had left out that there'd been a sign on the outside of the building advertising that the brothel had the two female companions of the Avatar.
Now they stood in front of their rooms, the left had Katara's name written on it and the right had Toph's. Before opening Toph's door, Katara said, "I'm right next door if you need me. You don't even have to come over, just knock on the wall and I'll be right over."
Toph nodded, and entered the room. She hated that she hadn't just lost her freedom, but also her independence. With not being able to use earth bending, she'd become almost completely reliant on Katara.
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A Fire Nation noble had decided to visit the brothel today after a busy trip to the Earth Kingdom. He needed to relax and unwind, and he had heard there was quite the catch here at the brothel... one of the Avatar's companions. He bought quite a number of tokens, ready to engage in a number of sexual acts with the girl.
He opened the door to Katara's room and licked his lips slightly as his eyes fell upon the body of the beautiful Water Tribe girl. He closed and locked the door behind him, moving towards her bed as he took out a token and tossed it towards the girl. "Perform a striptease for me," he commanded with a chuckle as he sat down on the edge of her bed.</s>
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Ichigo sat down on his bed, pulled his music player over to listen to something to calm his nerves. He had come home to tearful faces and being bombarded by questions he knew he couldn't answer. His dad was the most concerned, seeing as he'd missed five years of Shinigami training. He just smiled at him and told him he'd be ready to go eventually, he just needed time to recuperate. Five years though? He'd been gone for five whole years, he couldn't believe it. This couldn't be real, could it? He couldn't remember much of anything. He was walking into his house, that was the last thing he remembered clearly. However, there were other, foggier memories, a mask, a figure with blue hair and a...a mask...He bolted upright. Running into the bathroom, he finally took in his appearance, his hair was longer, he quickly ripped off his shirt completely, revealing what he least expected: the black tattoo arched across his collarbone, across the hole that rested in the middle. His eyes went wide as he stared at it.
He realized then, he could never accompany his father or Rukia back to the Seireitei. He could never take his place as heir to one of the five noble families, as his father, Isshin, was reinstated as head of the Shiba clan not too long ago. He placed his hands on the bathroom sink and sunk to his knees. Hot flesh, beaded in sweat met cold porcelain, his fingers tightening their grip until his knuckles were the same shade as the object they grasped with such desperation. He stayed that way for a long time, thinking about what he was going to do, no one could ever know. If the other, if the Shinigami found out he was an Espada, his father could be cast from his own house and loose his position as captain of the 10th division.
Rangiku was all too eager to partner with him again, as for Toshiro, Ichigo assumed he had been given a different captain position. He slowly stood up and stripped the rest of his clothes off. He tied his hair back and slid the wooden cover from the still steaming bathwater. Yuzu had been in here earlier it looked like. He was glad of that, he wouldn't have to wait for the tub to fill. He showered himself clean in the area next to the bath quickly. After cleaning himself thoroughly, he sat in the tub. His eyes closed, he traced the tattoos on either sides of both of his eyes with a low sigh. He had to maintain himself carefully, one slip-up and his family would suffer for it. He relaxed for a long time before he finally rose from the hot bath. He slid the wooden cover back over it for the next person to use and dried off with a towel. He grabbed an orange robe from the closet in the bathroom itself and slipped it on. Exiting the bathroom, he made sure his hair hung in the long orange, strawberry blonde curtain that it was, framing his face to hide his marks. His dad was walking past him into the bathroom. He smiled at him briefly before heading to his door."Yuzu Karrin and I are headed out to the mall, you wanna come?"he was asked this just as he was turning the doorknob to freedom."Um, no thanks, I really just want to get some rest okay?"he said in a rush to avoid his dad attempting to ask him relentlessly.
"Oh alright, I understand, you need time to get your mind in order, but hey, don't be a stranger!"with a wide grin, Isshin pat him on the back so hard Ichigo was almost certain he was about to cough up a lung. He waved goodbye to his dad as the other man grabbed a bag from the bathroom counter and went downstairs, calling his daughters they all left the house, calm, cold, and quiet. Ichigo nearly fell over in relief as he tied his hair back once more into a strawberry shaped bun in the back of his head before he flopped down face first on his bed.
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Pain was a beautiful thing. To watch life slip away from someone's eyes. To feel the blood drain from the tip of your blade and then only to saunter down and dry on your hands. It was sick and twisted, and yet he dreamed each day of getting his revenge on the one who took his dignity from him. Kurosaki had somehow turned everything around. Made him think, and soon what was something so easy, turned into something far darker than he had hoped for. Grimmjow began to stalk the orange-haired teenager. Trying to observe his human ways and grew bored with it in a matter of seconds. Instead, he wanted to enslave that boy and unleash his alternate ego, Hichigo. The hollowified version said to have sprouted from the thoughts of Zangetsu, but he wasn't sure if any of that was true or if the boy just had mental issues. This all played a large part in what Grimmjow had in store for the boy. How he wanted to train and mold him. How he wanted to make the boy depend on every single move! The thought alone made his dick swell with lustful joy!
He watched, shamelessly stalking from the tree that was not far from Kurosaki'ss bedroom window. He stayed however slightly out of sight. Isshin did not need to see him nor the annoying yellow Lion plush that held the power of a Gigai. This would prove mostuseful just in case he needed to leave or was called away. Piercing blue eyes stared out at the boy as he face planted on his bed. In such a way it showed he was tired and above all else he seemed to be exhausted. Perhaps he did not notice the changes at all? It drove his mind wild with so many ideas and so many ways to break in his new virginal toy. But then his train of thought was ruined as he saw the plush toy hop up on the bed and then seemingly pester the shinigami. Great, how would he get rid of Kon?
"HEY ICHIGO! What ya' laying around here for!? Why aren't you protecting Rukia in the Seireitei?!"
Grimmjow arched an eye brow at that. That did make a bit of sense. Why had the subsitute soul reaper come back home and yet not stayed where he could be put to gooduse? Oh well it just meant that in time he would not have to worry about her either. It was not that he could sense if Ruia Kuchiki was there, but he saw her nor Isshin as a threat to him or his plans. Instead he folded his arms and watched. Wondering just how long the teen may sit here and allow the toy Gigai to badger him into getting up. Quite frankly, he would have eatten Kon if not ripped him to shreads by now. His voice alone was a kin to nails on a chalk board!
Kon moved to climb up on Ichigo's back, standing tall as he started to jump up and down on the teen. He was so angry, that every single time Ichigo left he took all the hot babes with him! He would not sit back and watch Ichigo steal all the glory he knew he himself deserved! Kon honestly believed that he was the rightful one to use Ichigo's body. But it had been far and inbetween for the boy to cough up rights to his body for Kon to get in a piece of the action! Each time Kon jumped, his little plush paws squeaed in indefinate protest of being left behind once again! Because he was stuck in this lame toy, he missed out everything. Now Kurosaki would know his wrath!</s>
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Virgins don't do porn. It seemed like such a simple thing to say, something that pretty much everyone would take for granted. Why would someone want their first sexual experience to be recorded? To be "fake?" Plus, what attractive person these days made it to the point where they could do pornography without losing their innocence before that point? Apparently Selena Gomez. The pretty Hispanic wore a trench coat and stood in the middle of a house that practically screamed "porno set." Everything looked modern, fancy, appealing, but lacking in anything like warmth or any signs that someone would actually live there. The room in which the virginal young lady stood happened to vaguely resemble a living room. Several long white couches formed an elongated "C" opened up before a fireplace, which just so happened to have a fur rug stretched out on the floor. Several other "chairs" sat in various places. A keen eye would note that simply sitting in them would put someone into a strange position, almost perfect for certain... activities. The wide open room had excellent natural lighting from a set of wide glass doors that opened up onto a connected pool, which all extended into a stunning view stretched out below. Stairs led up to what would be bedrooms designed and stocked for just this sort of activity. Everything about the house had a decidedly sensual vibe about it.
Even the young lady nervously shifting in the room and looking around. Selena had a sensual body: anyone who looked at her could see that. Her Mexican heritage probably helped flare out her lips, giving her a set of noticeable curves despite her lean dancer's body. Firm breasts stood out on her slender chest, all covered with the coat. Flowing black hair extended about a slightly rounded face that would likely always have a slight youthful look to it. Despite being legal, Selena still looked as if she'd sneaked out of high school. Even her tendency to chew her lip and the nervous look in her dark eyes spoke of someone who kept expecting an adult to come along and take her away. The girl didn't seem to quite realize that any adults in this house would take one look at that heart-shaped ass and, yes, they would certainly think of spanking... but not in the manner the girl would think. Only the expertly applied makeup, which brought out those nervous dark eyes and made her lips look a little more plump and kissable, made her seem a little more adult than she actually was.
"So, uh, we agreed to, like," Selena stammered, looking around to the "professional(s)" in the room, "to do this," she reached up to brush back some hair for a moment, fidgeting again. "And, ah, you'd said to, to wear something... something... sexy?" She undid the coat, letting it fall open to reveal the frilled bra that worked well to hold up the pert little titties. A matching pair of light pink ruffled panties covered her "naughty bits." "I, uh, thought this was... cute?" she reached up to fiddle with a silver charm necklace around her neck, a star shape that her father had given her for good luck. "Oh, right, and the contract," she dug into the coat, pulling out a folded piece of paper. "It was sort of odd and all, but, yeah, I figured everything works."
Selena added a slight shrug before smiling just wide enough to start showing pearly whites as she extended the folded paper out. The girl looked every inch the jailbait tease, from the top of her pretty black hair to the frilled bra and panties to a set of pink wrap-around heeled sandals that extended her feet slightly and gave her already toned legs all the more toning. The girl looked ready to begin shooting a video... if not clearly aware of just what kind she had signed on for.
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Frank was smiling using his nice guy, trust me smile. He was very slick and he knew it. It was all he could do to contain his joy as he knew he had this young starlet so fooled, it was almost time to spring the trap on her. She was the perfect victim for him, young and famous and so eager to prove to everyone that she was an adult and smart enough to make all of her own decisions.
She had told him she wanted to make a film, something classy that would pass for a homemade sex video of her and a nice guy. Something that did not really show the actual hard core sex but merely showed some nudity, the sex part would be more suggestive or blurred out. She was not really specific but of course Frank was so understanding and convinced her he knew exactly what she wanted. Something that could be accidentally leaked out, so she could pretend to be outraged and get all kinds of sympathy and free press.
As she was so very naive it was not too hard to fool her with the wordy contract he came up with. Lots of double talk and non-specifics of what may or may not take place while filming. More gray areas than anything. He merely convinced her they would take it slow, one step at a time and would only do what she approved of. He told her she would be able to view each part as they did it and she would decide what to cut and what to keep. The silly girl was actually believing she was in control of everything. Nothing could be further from the truth!
Besides Frank, the director, there was Gerry, the sound and light guy and Ted, his main camera man. Ted had several stationary cameras set up in different rooms and he had a hand held one for close-ups and good POV shots. Drake was in this room with them as well, he was the male stud for the film.
I want you to just relax now kiddo and remember everything I told you before. We take it one step at a time, well start off slow for you. Lets get a few shots of you two together. This will be like the beginning of an encounter, just some making out and light petting stuff, easy to handle stuff. This will be the lead in for the heavier stuff.
He gives them both a few more instructions and then they star to film. They start with Selena on the couch, with her coat on. Drake enters the picture, like he just arrived or something and she gets up to meet him, they embrace etc. they start to roll film.</s>
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"Five minutes Miss Gomez" one of the crew said politely to the young woman. Selena looked up from her dressing room table and gave a pretty smile. "Thank you," she replied, before rising from her chair and brushing her dress down. No matter how many times that she performed, there was always a slight hint of butterflies in her stomach before each show. However, the moment that she walked out onto that stage, it all went away. When she began to sing, a professional calm took over her and all those nerves disappeared. Under those spotlights is where she was supposed to be and performing for her fans always made her feel so happy and loved. Selena had been involved in the industry since a very young age and as she grew, so did her fans. What were once preteens who adored her on Wizards of Waverly Place were now young women who bought all of her albums. They showed her complete dedication, even when her personal life came under attack, and for that she would always be grateful. Which is why tonight she intended on a little surprise. To say thank you, a select number of fans were going to be chosen to come backstage and spend some time with her.
The brunette female smiled at the thought, her full lips glinted due to the plum gloss upon them which caught the light. Her long dark hair shifted around her shoulders as she ventured towards the stage. The black dress that she wore allowed her long, smooth, olive-toned legs to be clearly visible. Her heels added an extra several inches to her modest five foot five frame. The skirt part of the dress expanded out a little in a skater style and the top was laced in a beautiful pattern. It was see-through at the front, but completely backless from behind. Allowing her sleek, unblemished skin to be on full display. The cheers from the crowd became louder with every step that she took and finally she found herself at the side of the stage. Her dancers all gathered around and they bowed their heads as they took a moment to gather themselves and be thankful for the performance that was about take place. Music began blasting from the speakers, the lights and smoke machines started to go insane, and a wave of intense noise and heat washed over Selena as she stepped out onto the stage. Her voice began to sing and her dark brown eyes took in the sight before her. Thousands of people were screaming her name as the concert got into full swing.
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It had been two weeks since Jeff surprised his daughter with tickets to the Selena Gomez concert, and the screaming had not stopped since. He knew he was winning some serious "greatest dad points" and that all of her friends would be envious. He spoiled her, but she was his only daughter. He also hoped that taking her to the concert might cut down on the amount of music he constantly had to listen to from her room, on the way to and from school, on TV, coming from the computer - it was almost as if he were leaving with Selena. Not that he would have minded. He had watched along with his daughter as Selena grew up and became quite the attractive young girl. A cute baby face, with a very womanly body, he would be lying if he said he never thought about her sexually. He helped him get through the countless award shows and performances his daughter made him watch. Finally, the day of the concert arrived, and the two of them drove to the arena where it was being held. Traffic was horrible, and soon Jeff began to realize just how popular this little girl was. After what seemed like hours, they finally parked and made their way up to the large building decorated with giant posters of Selena.
Jeff wore some dark jeans and a button-up black dress shirt, with boxer briefs underneath. His daughter tried her best to dress like Selena, but quickly put on a T-shirt with her face and name on it, right after Jeff bought it for her outside the concert. Combined with the food and other merchandise he was buying, this concert was starting to cost him a fortune. They finally took their seats just a few rows back from the stage. Surrounded by young screaming girls, Jeff hoped his hearing would survive the night. Seeing Selena walk out onto the stage lifted his spirits though. She was quite attractive, her legs looking longer than usual, and her full breasts amazing as always. He watched her perform, his daughter lost in the moment. He had to admit, she was quite talented, even if he did not care for her music all that much. Soon, he had to stop himself from thinking too many dirty thoughts, as he was sitting right next to his daughter after all. He mainly stayed seated during the concert, only standing up a few times when his daughter dragged him out of his seat. He checked his phone more than a few times, wondering just how long it would all last.</s>
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It came in like a storm, but one with a consciousness or directive. The darkness seemed to seep from the clouds, even the rain tainted and turned cattle into horrors. There was nothing that could be done aside from run or die, but that didn't change the fact that people wanted to save others. Especially their family - for a twenty-seven year old male, this was the worst of nightmares. He watched as his youngest brother was dragged off, clawing and screaming for help. Extending out his hand to the young boy, the platinum-haired male jolted awake. Sitting under a large tree, he had fallen asleep there as it was finally a place that he felt comfortable enough to let unconsciousness take him. Eryan had been on the run for the last four days, literally walking day and night until he felt like he had put enough distance between himself and the darkness. Everyone knew it was coming, but didn't know what to do - instead of leaving and finding a new place to live, the humans all hunkered down together to try and ride out this inevitable storm.
Eryan rose to his feet, wearing simple work pants that were a faded black color, he also wore a long-sleeve grey shirt that buttoned up in the front. His hair was tied back in the typical ponytail style that he normally wore it in, his face was a very pale color which was a clear indicator of undernourishment. Wiping his face with his hand, Eryan rose to his feet and dusted off his legs as well as his backside. Birds flew overhead from the tree he had been sitting under, and he looked up at the blue sky. Standing straight up and stretching his hands out above his head, Eryan stretched out to his full height of six feet five inches tall. His green eyes scanned the horizon and couldn't spot a black cloud in the sky. Which was a great thing as far as he was concerned, it meant the Darkness was still very much away from this area.
Walking off from the outskirts of the town he had made it to, Eryan headed in towards the center of town following his nose. He hadn't eaten in over four days now, fortunately he had found a stream to follow for the majority of his journey which allowed him to drink water. But he had left everything he owned and everything he had of value behind when he ran; including his entire family. Eryan's nose caught the scent of meat being fried, and he couldn't help but blindly be pulled in that direction. He didn't have money so to speak, or at least not enough to buy anything that would fill him up. But that didn't mean he couldn't work for the food, and that was his intention and goal. Find someone who would cook him something in exchange for his manual labor. In his haste to find the food, Eryan was walking clumsily and hadn't noticed there was a female crouched down in front of him. Bumping into her, Eryan tumbled over the female's form and collapsed on top of her. "I am so sorry!" Eryan said from the ground as he looked up to the female's beautiful face. Her red eyes immediately grabbed his attention, as well as her blonde hair. "I did not hurt you, did I?" Eryan asked as he stood slowly and offered out a pale hand to help pick her up.
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Perhaps she shouldn't have stopped in the middle of the road to tie up her heeled boots, but she had never dreamed someone wouldn't see her since her sleeveless dress was an endless cascade of ivory, splayed out beneath her. The force was abrupt and at first she had no idea what had caused her to fall into the dirt, but then the warmth of the weight on top of her touched her skin and she knew someone had actually fallen on her. She was more than displeased, but when she decided to turn her fiery red spheres that were her eyes towards him she couldn't help but feel her breath catch in her throat. The minute her eyes met his emerald-colored ones, which were so bright they practically reflected what they looked at, she felt something within her. She didn't know what.
It was enough for her face to relax, since it had tightened upon anger when she had been knocked to the ground. Not that it mattered anyway because her expressions did not do much to ruin the femininity and softness to her face. She simply stared at him, as if she was trying to remember someone who she simply had never met before. Slowly, her eyes went to his hand and then back to his face. Taking a second glance, he looked more than just handsome. He looked like he wasn't healthy, something that was common among the poor. His clothes also told that same story being so faded and worn. "No, you didn't hurt me," she said with a smile that matched the softness of her voice. It could only be compared to a serenade of bells far off into the distance. Beckoning. Comforting. She had a voice that should have belonged to a Siren.
She took his hand, feeling the roughness of his skin. Her own hands were not much better, being that they had just been in the dirt and dust clung to them. She used most of her own strength to get back to her feet and then patted down her cotton dress, attempting to remove most of the dirt. It was rather loose on her, but the collar of the dress dipped down to a low V that accentuated the cleavage she had. The first button was undone, the rest were secure. She sighed a bit as she moved to fix the golden locks of her hair that looked to be slightly unruly. She could never quite get her hair to sit straight on her head. But it was soft, and wispy enough to where it followed wherever the breeze took it.
"Were you in a hurry?" She asked as him as she looked towards the direction he was going. What could he have possibly been running to that he didn't see her? There was not much in this town, just tired people who worked their hardest to live a decent life. She herself was on her way home to change so she could help out at the farm, and make sure that no monsters were bothering the livestock. The darkness was real and everyone knew of it. They knew those things used to be animals. Swallowed and corrupted and made into twisted things that did nothing but seek out life. Seek out their next targets to be swallowed up whole.</s>
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Ivalice.
A strange land, a kingdom lost to time and space, one that was home to many beings and a vibrant civilization. Humans, Bangaa, Moogles, Viera, all made this place home and interacted with each other. They traded, fought, traveled, all under the auspices of the ruling kingdom, who maintained order via the Judges that served to regulate the various guilds that existed.
But Ivalice wasn't simply a place that you could walk to, or travel to by boat. No, it was a magical land that existed in the deepest fantasies, a charmed world that ensnared those who entered it, the few individuals that it based itself off of. And in return it gave them what they wanted, their hopes and inner desires, so that they would never have a reason to leave and return it to dormancy. Yet the people of this world were unaware of that. They merely lived their lives, and let come what may in turn.
And now the time had come again for a new character to enter that world, drawn from another by a magical artifact. It had tapped into her mind, and while she slept the world had been rewritten, changed all around her, until her old world was gone and Ivalice was all that remained. Even she had been changed, slightly, to reflect the new world that existed now.
It was a new world, for her. A world in which the sun dawned people went about their business like nothing was the matter, like they had not sprung from the aether all of half a day ago but rather had lived there their entire lives, with their own histories and struggles. And a woman would awaken in a somewhat dirty, dusty, and empty alleyway, to confront what had happened to her and what she would do about it.
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There were artifacts in this world that men were not meant to mess with. Books and spheres and all manner of things that could end poorly for those who took such unassuming power into their own hands and did as they desired with them.
The sphere had seemed harmless enough, a simple trinket in the ruins. The young woman had been separated from her two friends when she activated it, sure that it would simply be some manner of historical record or somesuch.
Paine had been wrong.
She awoke in a dusty and shaded alleyway, her body cramped up and her head feeling like it had been packed to the brim with cotton. Other women might have been very concerned about what had happened. Had they had a drugged drink? Had they been the victim of some type of attack?
Paine, however...
"Eugh... what fresh hell is this?" she muttered to herself as she slowly dragged herself up the wall behind her. She felt warmer somehow, like she was still wrapped up in a fuzzy blanket that hit all the right spots. Her body was caressed by the wind itself, and she groaned audibly as she stretched out tired and cramped muscles.
"Now where's the others?" Paine called down the alleyway. "Yuna! Rikku! You two screwing around?"</s>
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Rise had outdone herself this time. The first night of the school trip had been off to a boring start, and she mentioned a club she had performed at. She made some calls, and had a room set up just for her and her friends. The group of friends from Yasogami High - Yu, Yosuke, Kanji, Chie, Yukiko, and Rise herself - had their own room to escape the quiet hotel room the school had rented.
Rise led the Investigation Team in, eventually finding out the room was upstairs. "Let's go!" He said, giggly as usual. No one really knew what to expect, and when they arrived, they were greeted with a room similar to a karaoke room, a nice table adorned with several shiny glasses and colored liquid in them. "Don't worry guys, I told them non-alcoholic drinks." She said, winking before sitting down. She picked up a yummy looking blue drink, taking a sip before wincing. It was strong! Maybe it had a weird ingredient?
The group followed suit and sat down. Yu picked up a red drink and took a sip. "W-whoa." He said, making a face as the drink burned his throat. What was in this? The group chattered among themselves, talking about the trip, their advancements in the TV World, among other things, as they drank. As time went on, Yu, Yukiko, and Rise had definitely fallen under the effects of the non-nonalcoholic drinks, a light blush on everyone's face. "I-I think... These ha-hic-had something in them." Yu said, pulling at the collar of his shirt.
"I told them non-alcoholic!! I really did!!" Rise said, her pouty face on as she looked at everyone.
"I knew these were weird. Well... we just have to not let anyone catch us. It's not far to the hotel, right?" Yosuke said, looking at his bro, Yu. "We are underage... We don't need to be-" Yosuke was quickly cut off by Rise, who was holding up some sticks.
"Wait!! We can't leave yet! We need to have some fun." She said, standing and holding out six sticks, one with a red mark. "We should play the King's Game! The king's orders are absolute!" She said. She quickly explained the rules, how ever drew the red marked stick is the 'king', and everyone else has to do everything the king commands. "Take one, everyone." She said, leaving one for herself.
Each of the group took their pick. Yosuke and Yu bowed their heads when they noticed they lost. Chie closed her eyes before she revealed that she didn't have the red stick. Rise had the red-marked stick.
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Chie's cheeks flushed almost immediately after she had taken a long sip out of her own beverage, something green, minty, and strong. "It'll be fine, guys," Chie said, both hands wrapping around the glass as she leaned forward. "Besides, these are tasty! Thanks for setting us up, Rise!" Chie said.
It hadn't taken long for all of them to fall under the effects, though perhaps Yosuke had abstained the most. Chie's cheeks were pleasantly red by this point, and she felt nice and warm. Maybe it was alcohol, maybe it was a placebo, but she wasn't letting go of her glass any time soon either way.
When the sticks got passed out among the group, Chie dreaded who might end up with the red stick... and it ended up in perhaps the worst possible hands -- Rise. One of two people to know about her crush on their glorious leader and the only one of the two that could act on it (Yukiko was too nice, far gone into her giggles, and didn't have the stick to boot).
"I don't think this--"
Rise's eyes flashed dangerously. "Number 4!"
Chie gulped and spared a glance at her stick. Oh, shoot.
"Sit on... oooon--.... number two's lap!" she said, pointing right at Rise. If they'd been more sober, they might have questioned how Rise would know who had which randomly drawn stick... but such was a question for later.
"Um. A-alright," Chie said, pushing herself up to her feet. She sidled around the table, and slowly sat down on Yu's lap, pressing her firm bottom right against the seat of his pants. "L-like this?"</s>
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Fennmont was a lovely city. Forever shrouded in the dark of night by a spirit clime, it made do with beautiful lights in golds and blues. And in an ordinary world, this is where everything shifted. Nachtigal, at the behest of Gillard, devised a weapon that would destroy mana and spirits all for the purpose of tearing a fabric in space and time, leading to one Jude Mathis and one Milla Maxwell setting out on a grand adventure into all the world. But what if Jude had never gone after his professor? What if he had never met Milla?
What if the young man had simply stayed in the hospital that night, done his work, and never went to find the Lance of Kresnik? Just going to bed like the world hadn't shattered around him. And what if, in all of this, Milla's world was flipped upside down with the Lance of Kresnik, and a hole was torn far too early. A hole into a world that was not Elympios but oh so very different?
"Hey."
A pressure settled firmly on Jude Mathis' gut. Two pressures, really. Booted feet settled firmly there on him as a girl leered over him. She was cute, a girl next door type in a yellow dress with a parasol parked over one shoulder. She had blue eyes that might have been cute and innocent but which had their youthful sparked by a mind far too old to look so adorable. Her voice, additionally, sounded a lot more like a woman in their twenties than the girl of... well, she LOOKED around sixteen, but a sharp mind would perceive her to be much older.
Ednascowled.
"Hey. Human. Wake up," she said, prodding him in the forehead with the tip of her parasol.
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The young doctor-in-training's eyes slowly began to open. Something felt...wrong...off. His chest felt heavy, much too heavy. He was lying in bed after all, nothing should have been on his chest. His vision was finally starting to focus itself when he felt something poke his head.
At once, his training set in. Not sure if he was endangered and not even fully awake, Jude swatted at what was poking him in the head and quickly pushed whatever was on his chest off. He stood on his bed, dropping into a defensive posture to defend himself from something he wasn't even fully aware of yet.
His vision finally focused on the girl. A young blonde who couldn't have been much older than him...if she even was older. She certainly was cute, but Jude didn't have time to dwell on that fact. He had locked the door before he had gone to bed, so how had this stranger gotten in?
"Ummm, excuse me...but who are you and why did you break into my room?" Jude asked in his controlled but polite tone of voice. Even when he was facing a potential robber, he was still kind and polite to his core. That was just the kind of person he was.</s>
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The City of Midgar, a multiple layered city. Home to many societies and districts. The district we begin our story is, the lower district.. A woman garbed in a dark cloak moved through the junk lined Lower District, junk and debris. The woman's silver hair lingered out from the shadow of her black cloak hood. At her hips two swords one longer then the other, katana like but not like a katana at all. The girl was about 18 in height and appearance, her slender figure adorned with a shadowing, her feet carrying her towards the center of the district.
Her stomach growling and her posture seemed like that of someone about to keel over, a drunk wandered by singing a tune and swaying to and fro, bumping into the girl spilling his bottle all over himself. "What the hell were ya doin standing around like that, bloody kid spilled my drink.... now how ya gonna pay fer it...." The poor girl would look to the man, her silver blue eyes looked to the man, and she gullible as she was began searching her pockets for a way to pay back the man, feeling she had wronged him... Her pockets had not a single gill to give unfortunately... "I... I'm sorry sir, I don't have any money to pay you back...." The man growled and raised his hand up as if he were about to strike her, and she flinched and backed away, the look of a flutter of black feathers puffed out when she moved suddenly, and the feathers seemed to blow away immediately, she looks up slowly.. The man was bringing his hand down and she flinched, she was going to get hit for not paying, across the street was a bar, the 7th Heaven.
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"Excuse me."
That was all the warning either the young woman or the drunk man were going to get before a woman stepped right between them. She was in her twenties with the build to match, all wide hips, large chest, and disconcertingly (for the man) well-developed arms.
Seraph would feel a hand on her chest pushing her back just a touch as her other arm came up, catching the man's forearm with her own. The hand on Seraph's chest left and came rushing forward, her palm striking the drunk man.
It was not a hard blow, but the man's stupor would see him in the gutter in record time. The woman slowly returned to a neutral stance, glancing down at the drunk man who looked like he was about to say something.
"Walk away, Cal, or I'm taking your tab away. You know what I've said about those anger issues," the woman said.
The drunk man, apparently Cal, widened his eyes and muttered something under his breath.
"What was that?"
"S-s-sorry," he managed, before Cal turned to start crawling rapidly away.
The woman turned on her heel, about to head back to the bar before... the girl made Tifa think twice of it. Silver hair, black cloak, katanas. Four faces quickly danced through her head and her mouth went dry. "Hey. Who are you?" Tifa asked.
Sephiroth. Kadaj. Loz. Yazoo.
and now this girl.</s>
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It was snowing by the time Hinata reached the Uchiha kingdom. She had been traveling via horse-drawn wagon, which would have been much faster if she had gone on foot, but she was also a princess and was expected to travel like one. And Hinata didn't mind, as she was in no hurry to reach the opposing kingdom. She had never come face to face with any of the Uchiha family, but she was understandably nervous to do so. She was alone in a foreign land; a land that was filled with people who had only a month ago killed her on sight. And there were of course a handful of individuals who still seemed to thirst for Hyuga blood, as her wagon came under attack multiple times during the journey. But the Uchiha had sent elite bodyguards for her, and no one got close enough to the wagon to even be a threat.
That wasn't Hinata's worry, though. She could deal with assassins... but could she deal with the Uchiha royal family? She had been raised to see them as the enemy; cold blooded killers! And now she was to be wed to Prince Sasuke. She didn't even know what he looked like, and he had no idea what she looked like. In fact, not even her own people knew what she looked like. She was very sheltered... until now.
Now, she was alone. But she knew she had to be strong and do this. It was for the sake of her family as well as her own people. And besides, if this could bring peace, she would do her best.
Finally, the wagon came to a stop, and so did Hinata's heart for a moment. So they were finally here... she wasn't ready for this. Nervously, she smoothed over her dress and, for a second, closed her eyes to try and gain her bearings. And, just as she was opening them, the wagon driver had hopped down and was opening the door for her.
Gulping in a shaky breath, Hinata got to her feet and stepped from the wagon and out into the courtyard of the kingdom...
"Princess Hinata!" A warm, feminine voice called to her from across the yard. Blinking, Hinata lifted her gaze only to freeze when she noticed the woman scurrying on over to where she herself was standing. Hinata had never seen her, but based on her attire and the many servants around her, it was obvious...
"Q-Queen Mikoto!" Hinata gasped, blushing a little when she realized how beautiful the woman was. She lifted her hands, not sure what to do or say. Luckily, Mikoto didn't seem to mind Hinata's surprise and just smiled warmly at her.
"Please just stand still for a moment.. I wish to study the young woman my son will be wed to." She cooed, resting her hands on Hnata's shoulders and looking her over with those calm, steady, inviting eyes. Hinata held her breathe and stood still, nervousness written all over her face.
Hinata was like a porcelain doll. Long, silky black hair, pale skin, rosy cheeks, and, of course, those lavender eyes that were as soft as the falling snow, which was proof of her lineage. She was dressed in a simple yet clearly expensive and custom dress, with fit her body perfectly. It was tight around her generously sized bust and petite shoulders and slender waist, but looser around her hips and legs. The dress was cream and white in color, with beads of shimmering opal laced into the neckline.
"Hehe.. you will make me some beautiful grandchildren, Hinata~" The queen giggled, making Hinata blush and fidget a little. Smiling at her humble reaction, Mikoto wrapped a gentle arm around Hinata's waist and led her inside, where it was much warmer.
"I'm sure you're exhausted from your travels... but first, allow me to take you to Sasuke. I'm sure he's dying to meet his bride." Mikoto hummed, earning a small, shy nod from Hinata, who really had no say in the matter. She quietly followed alongside the queen to Sasuke's chambers. Mikoto didn't mind Hinata's silence, as she too was more of the silent type.
After a few minutes of walking through the castle, they reached Sasuke's room. Mikoto gave a few light raps at the door to let him know someone was entering, but did not wait for invitation inside. She simply opening the door, guiding Hinata alongside her.
"Sasuke, meet Princess Hinata..."
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Sasuke sat on his bed, eager to meet his new bride-to-be. He was born and raised as the Prince of his realm, and had been taught to treat the Hyuga as noble and worthy foes. Sure, he had slain a number of them on the battlefield as was expected of him, but now, he was eager to wed their princess. After all, he had caught glimpses of the Hyuga women here and there, and they were beautiful, prizes to be sought. That is why he now sat on his bed, his red eyes shimmering with excitement at the thought of finally meeting this princess. When he heard the taps on the door, he stood up and braced himself...
He was stricken speechless for a moment by the sight of Hinata...she was beautiful. He took in her figure, perfect skin, and lovely hair. He composed himself quickly however and stepped forward, gently grasping Hinata's hand with his own as he brought it up to his lips, giving it a gentle kiss. "My lady," he said, looking her in the eyes. "It is a pleasure to meet you at last." His expression was one of affection and desire mixed together. "Mother, could you leave us for now? I would like to get to know my future wife." He spoke, making it clear that he had lustful intentions for the girl in front of him right now.</s>
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A lone figure sat on one of the walls of Caer Callidyrr, the home of the Kendrick family, rulers of the Moonshae Isles. The wind whipped at his long brown hair and stirred his beard a bit, but he paid it little heed. It had been years since Owain Kendrick had been home, but the scent of the sea was still familiar to him. His hazel eyes turned to the sea, wondering which of the gods had decided to make a fool of him, to doom him to this fate. To be wed. Though he would not have been keen under normal circumstances, the one that confronted him was anything but; he was to wed Glinde, shield-maiden and daughter of the Northmen's king, Renner the Fury. If the daughter was anything like her father, then he had to wonder how long he would survive their vows.
"Owain!" a high voice cried out, causing the man to sigh.
A deft move on your mother's part, sending Alis to fetch me.He rose from where he had sat himself on the wall, standing on it for a moment and looking down from the parapet to see a girl of about five standing there. A frightened look was on her face for a moment, until Owain hopped down and then moved to the stairs, descending them to her.
Alis, with her mop of brown hair, looked at him and frowned, "You could have fallen!"
If only. The thought was brief, and Owain put on a smile. "No! You would have caught me!" he declared, and rushed over, sweeping his sister up in his arms as she giggled. Then he began to walk up the path that led back towards the keep. "I suppose that mother sent you out to find me?" he questioned the young girl.
His sister nodded and smiled. "Yes, she did! And I found you!"
"You did indeed," Owain said, taking her hand and walking with her. "Far easier now that I am home, isn't it?" He asked the girl, who nodded quickly.
It didn't take him long to get within the main curtain wall of the castle where he sat her down in the courtyard. Alis took his hand then dragged him off towards the keep, evidently set on fulfilling her mission. As they made their way through the courtyard, Owain glanced around, marveling how little things had changed; the stables had been expanded a bit, as had the smithy, but the quarters for the various servants and laborers were still the same, as were the storage buildings that held all manner of reserves. The castle had been there a long while and he suspected that the walls would be in place still when his bones were dust.
Once they had entered the keep, he was quickly confronted by a woman of at least fifty years, shorter than he, with a stern look on her face. His mother, Alicia Kendrick, was both a warrior and a druid, a woman of faith and steel who had protected her realm for years. "You must get dressed," she stated shortly. Owain flashed her a small smile and asked, "Can't I just enjoy myself for a bit longer? They can't be that close..." But then a horn sounded once, twice, thrice... the sign that longships had been sighted. Alicia looked to her son and said, "You best enjoy yourself. For today your marriage brings peace to our people."
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"Ye Gods have you no bottom to your enthusiasm?" Glinde crawled up the woman's body, kissing her all the way up. The wench giggled when Glinde captured her nipple and teased it with the tip of her tongue as she grinned in a predatory manner. "You're like...the ever-burning flame. The over-flowing cornucopia of the gods. The bottomless well...mmm and just as wet." This she added as she slipped her fingers out of her slick cunt and across her clit.
"Oooohhh Lady Glinde..." the wench moaned, writhing under her touch. "You can eat from my cornucopia until your heart's content."
Glinde leaned up to nibble on her ear before kissing her deeply. "Well, we'll have plenty of time for that later, won't we?" she suggested before withdrawing abruptly, rolling off the strumpet beneath her and onto the cot. The horn had sounded and she knew what that meant; she poured water from a pitcher into a basin and began to clean herself off, wiping off the sweat and fluids. Glinde herself didn't care, but she didn't think it would quite be good form to show up smelling of sex.
"Later?" The girl propped herself up on her elbows and looked over. "What happened tonight?"
Glinde smiled over her shoulder and winked. "Because I'm getting married, darling."
As she stepped onto land Glinde tried to remember the girl's name but she couldn't. Not that she usually did, but the shield maiden was unaccountably nervous and trying to remember the names of the women helped her focus. Twelve in a week was slightly unusual for her, but it had been a last hurrah and gave her plenty to try to remember as they walked through the gates of the keep. Hanging on her father's arm like this felt weird; she was a grown-ass woman, she could walk herself.
"Remind me why I'm doing this," she murmured to her father.
"An alliance," Renner murmured back. "There are threats to both our nations, much larger than either of us...but together we can stand strong."
Glinde sighed. "Right. Just don't expect me to curtsy or nothin'.
Renner chuckled and it rumbled deep in his chest. "I'd sooner cut off my own beard!" Glinde had four older brothers, but he was fond of saying he had five strapping sons. He was aware of her...tendencies, but had kept them quiet for the eventuality that this day would come. As they crossed the courtyard she saw the royal family of the Moonsahe Isles come out to meet them.
"Prince Owain." Glinde inclined her head respectfully as they were introduced and shook his hand with a strong, firm grip. "I thought it was bad luck to your people to see the bride before the wedding?"</s>
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The gods envy us. They envy us because we are mortal, because any moment may be our last. Everything is more beautiful because we are doomed. You will never be lovelier than you are now. We will never be here again.- Homer,The Illiad
When there is no guarantee that peace had actually been attained - or worse that it was lasting - there was no chance for Metropolis to heal in the wake of the battle between the Justice League and Project FairPlay. The Justice League had been officially cleared, sure, but then who carried the blame? Certainly not President Waller. Certainly not the innocent humans who merely wished to protect themselves against these understandably frightening gods of wanton destruction and intergalactic infamy. So who did that leave?
Well, in the year since the official termination of Project FairPlay, the public opinion longed for a monster to chase, and put 'them' on the other side of the line from 'us'. Who cared if there was a public pardon and a retraction from the most powerful woman in Metropolis media? That was then. This is now.
And now Jessamine "Jessie" Olson was officially screwed. Said most powerful woman - in the wake of what she personally called 'a disgraceful lack of judgment' - had retracted her retraction (was that even a thing?, Jessie wondered) and now Editor Lane was out for blood. How dare they fool her, how dare the 'bane of Metropolis' convince her that he was anything less than 'the Man of Destruction'?!And one perfectly timed shot of the attack one year ago had not only earned Jessie an award, but the position of the primo photo journalist at The Daily Planet. The photo - which had captured Superman striking down the last of the metal monstrosities unleashed by FairPlay - was not only commended for the excellent lighting and the use of angles, but because it was understood she herself must have had to put herself in incredible danger to be so close to the public menace...and the evil giant robot.
But now that meant when the lovely Lois Lane decided to join a not so secret collective of Metropolis elite determined to capture something of the remnant Justice League to re-open the open hostilities. And if Jessie Olson could get a photo showing the Superman being a hero, certainly she could catch one of him committing a crime worthy of such anger.
"So...anything?" asked the familiar voice of her long time, long distance friend Barbara through the ear piece of Jessie's cellphone.
"Not even a little bit," Jessie sighed.
She was laying on the bed of her matchbox apartment, her long, bright ginger hair dangling off the edge of the mattress as she held her camera over her head while scanning through the day's pictured. "Ms. Lane is going to kill me."
"Ooooor she could get off her pretentious ass and carry out her crusade against Captain Trench Coat on her own," Barbara snapped.
Jessie laughed and lowered her camera. "Ha. That's so funny it makes me almost forget my impending doom."
Barbara was quiet a moment before continuing. "You don't think she's going to fire you, do you?"
Jessie shrugged, causing the cellphone perched on her shoulder to jostle dangerously. "I don't fuckin' know," she said. "It's been months since she put me on this and it doesn't matter where I go...it's never where He is. And she's getting mad. Like 'hella mad. I got a five minute shouting lecture today. Apparently if I can't get my shot, I could go be a fifteen minutes of fame failure at another paper."
"Well then tell her to dangle herself out of the edge of a building or something and I bet he'll come running-er-flying."
Jessie grinned. "I volunteer to push her."
"Nah don't do that - cuz then I'd be forced to arrest you," Barbara muttered. "And that's not something I want to endure on my vacation."
Jessie blinked and set the camera down beside her. "Come again?"
"Knock knock," Barbara said, and she hung up.
At that moment Jessie heard a knock on her apartment door. Leaping to her feet, she ran as carefully as she could in her socks and opened the door. Standing there was a young woman slightly shorter than she was with darker red hair, bright blue eyes, and a bright smile on her pretty face. Jessie gasped and reached out to hug her.
"Holy crap! You didn't say you were coming!" she shouted.
Barbara laughed. "Isn't that the whole point of a surprise, Olson?!"
Jessie let her go and took a step back. "I didn't think your Dad would give you off of Police Training!"
"Believe it!" Barbara grinned. "Now come on, let's see if Metropolis holds a candle to the Gotham night scene."
Thirty minutes later and dressed in a little black dress that showed off a fair bit of her fair skin and complimented the bright tones of her hair, Jessie and Barbara arrived in the entertainment district of Metropolis. Littered with coffee shops, clubs, and theatres the glitterati frequented, there was certainly plenty of places to see and be seen. Reports of two serial rapists on the loose in the area hadn't dampened the attendance of these clubs, and Jessie felt a little more certain being linked arm in arm with Barbara. Standing outside the biggest club around - the Emerald Room - the two girls chatted about work and boys. Barbara had met a young man named Dick who worked as an intern in Wayne Enterprises, and was already received excellent marks in her training at the GCPD Academy.
"And that night he brought coffee to the house and you should have seen the look on my Dad's face! I thought he was going to pull out his pistol when Dick showed up at ten p.m. with my latte!" she grinned.
"Thank God he didn't. That'd be one clich too many!" Jessie laughed.
The little clutch Barbara was holding began to vibrate and she reached in to pull out her cellphone. "Ha! Speak of the-" she muttered and then looked up at Jessie. "It's Dick. Mind if I take this?"
"Nah, I'll meet you inside," Jessie said.
Barbara smiled and turned to take a few steps away from the line and the pounding noise. Jessie leaned against the wall and resisted the urge to start bobbing her head to the beat of the music like the very definition of a tool.
Something caught her eye just out of the corner of her gaze. Something that moved way too fast to be human. Jessie turned around and stared at the corner behind her. She was sure she'd seen it...but what was it? Curiosity gnawed at her insides like a restless tapeworm and she felt her heart skip. No, she thought. This was exactly the kind of thing common sense told her to avoid...but the last time she'd seen anything move that fast it was...Him.
Her fingers began unzipping her clutch and she pulled out her new iPhone 6. Time to put that excellent camera to good use! Leaving her spot as the last person in line she slowly began walking towards the corner. Just a peak. That's all she needed. Just one last chance to save her job...
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Nobody understood him and that was the true nature of the Man of Steel, the one thing that separated him from all others beings on the face of the planet known as Earth. It was heart wrenching to be so separated from the people that you grew to care for, so different to be defined as something greater than a man. Human beings realized early their mortality and that enabled them to come to understand their lives in a way that he never could. It gave it flavor, it gave it meaning, and it provided for it a measure of pricelessness. Pristine and beautiful. Yet he was barely in his middle age but already wondered if he was truly immortal. He had faced so much in his short life and had come through it untouched, as he was untouched by all things, yet that was only physical. Emotionally he was decimated at the leaving of friends, at the betrayal of the world, at how everything he had invested and given had turned to ash before his very eyes. It held an irony for him that he had come to this world and had sought to bring it hope, and instead brought nothing but despair.
He was Heman Guerra, Lor-Zod.
Superman.
The title was not lost upon him. Some viewed him as a man beholden to the laws of the land, some as a god, and increasingly by the nations of the world as a monster. It had instilled him a bitterness that had not been there before. Before he had been hard that was to be sure, before he had been brutal in his application of justice. He understood that, understood that he was short-tempered and withdrawn from the humanity of the world. It had been with his friends, with the Justice League, that he felt he had done some good. Yet now the League was gone, the moment over, and he felt a cold lingering bitterness towards the world around him. It ached deep inside of him, wearing him thin, leaving him with sleepless nights wondering when he would finally give up doing any of it.
Terribly he could confide in none of them. None of the humans of the world could accept what he was, nor could they accept his pain as their own. He would never divulge it, never offer it up as part of his sacrifice. He had sacrificed far too much. This pain was his own. He would never give it up. So now he flew, he moved through the world, a timeless entity at the beginning of his eternal life trying to sort through the problems that being above mankind created. Surely there were those who envied him, surely they did not understand how easily he would give it up. As he moved, he saw...he noted the three men in the alley. He watched with detachment as they kicked the man to the ground, stomping on him, and then they turned on the woman...and began to do worse. Cold fury took over him, cold and unrelenting, and he moved.
He punished. Unknowing that the brutality of his own assault might very well be caught on camera.</s>
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Korra's adrenaline was pumping through her veins like never before as she booked it down the narrow hallways, sending waves and gusts of fire behind herself to slow Amon down enough for her and Mako to be obscured from his view long enough to dive into the nearest room unseen. And, of course, the two didn't have time to discuss what they would do from there. Their main goal was accomplished: buy Tenzin and his kids enough time to escape while distracting Amon. Now, however, it was their turn to escape. Thing was,Amon was one quick bastard.
As soon as they ducked into the room, they could hear the masked man barreling down the hallway despite Korra's attempt to slow him, and thus were forced to hide immediately. Mako, who was already a few steps ahead of her, threw himself behind a stack of crates and settled down low, so he could peek around the crate and watch as Korra found her own hiding place. Which, admittedly, wasn't the best.
The nearest place to hide was a table with a white, long clothe tossed over it, and so, that was where she dove, ending up squatted beneath the table while sucking in a lungful of air to keep from breathing too loudly. She was panting, after all, out of breath from her mad dash to escape. And the only way to silence her rapid, uneven breathing was to hold it in.
It wasn't that Korra wastotallyafraid to fight Amon, but his bloodbending abilities tied in with his ability to take her bending away was enough to cause the usually bullheaded young woman to be cautious.
'Please, please let him skip this room..'Korra preyed silently to herself, hoping that whatever malevolent spirit was watching would give them a break this once.
Still, she listened for any sound of movement, unable to reallysee much of anything thanks to the clothe in the way. All while holding her breath, which was starting to make her chest ache... Maybe holding her breath had been a dumb idea?
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It didn't matter what one called him anymore.
Amon, Noatok, the Equalist leader or Son of Yakone -- he was so close. The United Republic's forces lay in ruins, the good General Iroh was on the run, and he was at the height of his power in a city brought entirely to its knees. And all he had left to do was take out the symbol of all that he stood against, the purest emblem of inequality in this world -- the Avatar herself.
He would take from her what had been taken from him -- a future.
He leapt over a gout of flame, arms over his face as he hurtled through the air like a champion athlete. He rounded a corner and... found nothing.
Nothing but a door swinging on its hinges.
Footsteps echoed in that room, heavy footfalls that drew Amon through the long hall and its many covered pieces of furniture. He was feeling through the room with his bending. The same way that any given water bender could sense the coming of rain or the more experienced kinds could sense it in the air or in plants... he could sense it in people. And here he could sense two bodies in this room. He sucked in a deep breath, and raised his hands.
Korra wouldn't be able to see it, but she could hear it -- Mako's startled cry. A rustle of cloth. And then breaking glass as Mako's form went sailing out the skylight above them. Maybe there was a splash -- maybe he came out alright from the abrupt departure from the building, but she couldn't know. She might never know.
Because suddenly Korra's body turned traitor and she was dragged straight out from underneath the table, right up to Amon and the hand that waited to wrap around her throat.</s>
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Etti IV, one of the wealthiest planets in the Corporate Sector, and a popular stop for those with the skills, emans and propensity for work fitting into the legal grey area (or leaning more towards black). The bar Arik Denal currently patronized smelled of the mingled foods, intoxicants and body odors of a few dozen different species as he slowly nursed his drink. The bar was the same type found on nearly every world with a major spaceport; dirty, dingy and poorly-lit, the local music from the live band an odd combination of high-pitch reedy woodwinds and a deep percussion, overlaid with cooing of the not bad looking female Rodian lead. This part of the galaxy wasn't Arik's idea of a good stop; for him, CorSec kept too tight a leash on things and on the rare occasion he could bribe his way out of trouble, they usually wanted three or four times what a similar 'donation' to an Imperial lackey would be. Unfortunately, he hadn't had much of a choice in the matter. His ship, a heavily modified Suwantek Systems TL-1800 transport named The Drunken Wookie, had developed a coolant leak, which not only caused him to burn fuel at nearly five times the normal rate, but also lead to a fire, forcing him to limp into port at sublight. He'd been a bit short on creds, forcing him into a situation of borrowing that was not... advantageous. However, it had allowed him to fix his ship and top off his tank; giving him the opportunity to run a couple short 'extra-legal' operations to way back the creds owed. He'd even gotten lucky; the recipient of one of his deliveries got pinched just before he dropped the cargo off, forcing him to sell it himself and make almost ten times what he was supposed to be paid. He'd paid back the loan, port fees, more fuel, even had some left over for minor modifications, consumables and some other minor bits & bobs.
Which is when the trouble started. His loan shark now claimed that Arik had ratted out the delivery target and owed him more money. Arik disagreed, and the gangster's emissaries pulled on him; a mistake. He walked away; they didn't. He probably should have split the planet, but he felt he was on a streak of luck, and was loath to break that. So here he sat, in a shady bar whose name he never bothered noticing, in a small alcove off to the side, his back to the wall, slowly sipping his cool beverage as he bid his time until his next score.
Arik stood at a hair over six-foot two, 180 pounds of lean muscle, his dirty blond hair shaved into a buzz cut reminiscent of his time in the Imperial Army, although he mainly did it to keep it out of his hazel eyes. For the moment, he was dressed in dark green cargo pants, a thick leather utility belt, black combat boots, and a tan jacket that covered the heavy blaster pistol he kept on his shoulder.
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It was a damn good lucky streak, that was for sure. But luck went by many names across the galaxy, though few paid those stories any mind these days. For most, the Jedi and Sith had been a far-off concern -- the elite of the galaxy whose struggles existed far above the pay grade of the average butcher, baker, or candlestick maker. But a Jedi or Sith could come from any place, and it was always by the same avenue -- the Force. An omnipresent entity that decided the fate of everyone from kings to killers and princes to paupers. An entity that let one dodge that blaster bolt. Arrive just in time or just too late, avoiding issues either way. And it came in many forms, too. The light in a farm boy. The dark in a pretty young thing in a black sleeve of a dress... Vera Kolissclicked her way up to the bar and settled herself sideways into the seat beside Arik. She was exquisitely made up -- just subtle enough to make one think it might have been just her. She was slender, albeit possessed of finely curved hipbones and soft breasts. "Hi," she said, her voice downright sweet-sounding. "What're you having, big boy?" And compared to her, he really was. She could have only been 5'6" once one took into account her heels and hair. She was a slip of a girl, and only had eyes for him right then.</s>
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Tommen stared at his book, learning about some of the previous wars that had happened across the Seven Kingdoms. The book detailed the sides, their leaders, their strategies, and the victor. Every page was filled with gory details of people who died in the most gruesome ways. For most 17-year-old boys, this would be the best thing ever. But for Tommen, it was barely anything interesting.
Growing up had never been a problem for Tommen Baratheon. His family was one of the wealthiest in Westeros, so he usually got what he wanted. At least, anything he could buy with gold. When it came to everything else, his brother Joffrey would get it.
That's why it was such a shock when just the previous day, his brother was killed. Poisoned at his own wedding. It wasn't surprising that someone wanted Joffrey dead; after all, he was getting to be almost as bad as the Mad King. But to do it at his wedding was just horrible.
One thing that did occur to Tommen though, was that he was next in line. He would be the next king of Westeros. So much responsibility, so much power... it made him feel extremely nervous. He knew that Lady Margaery Tyrell had been promised to Joffrey, but what would happen to her? Would she be Tommen's queen or would another woman step up to take her place?
What would his queen be like? Kind? Gentle? Tommen hoped so and also hoped that she would be patient; Tommen had never been with a woman before due to his young age and shyness, but hopefully that was to be expected.. right? After all, weren't you meant to be a virgin until you were married? Or was that just women?
The boy was wrapped up in his thoughts, he didn't notice his bedroom door open and close behind him.
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Margaery tensed every muscle in her arms and mid-section to keep the door as quiet as possible. Like an assassin, she stole into Tommen's chamber. She had hoped to wake him gently and speak privately with him. Out of earshot of his mother and the rest of the court.
Part of her was extremely reluctant to begin the dance of seduction again, but Tommen was so much more... human than Joffrey was. Something about him was so sweet and, even a little simple. As though things could only be right or wrong, without all the grey. It made her want him; to corrupt him, to preserve him, to cherish him, to use him up. All the conflicting feelings welling inside her created an overwhelming passion.
She stood at the edge of the light his candles threw. Her long, white nightgown clung to her body in the chill of the castle. "My lord," she whispered. "I hope I have not interrupted anything important. But I hoped we might speak privately. If you will allow it?"</s>
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Yenna shouldered her greatsword as she regarded the forests beyond the boundary of her camp speculatively. There had been reports of frenzied monsters all across the land as the virus spread, but here was one of the points of greatest concentration. In fact, it was the point of greatest concentration she'd seen in some time. It hadn't taken long for the guild to figure out that Gore Magala carried and spread the frenzy virus, and so large concentrations were assumed to be where they made their nests, and hunters were being dispatched to deal with such concentrations. She'd fought several of the beasts by now -enough to have earned armor and weapons of their scales and bones- and was one of the best at clearing their nests and purifying them to halt the further spread of the virus.
That distinction of being one of the best was of course why she'd been the one called for the urgent mission to investigate this largest concentration. Where an ordinary gore often resulted in a handful of frenzied monsters, this place was a carnage ground, where every monster had frenzied and when the humans had fled in fear, they had turned on each other to feed the insatiable thirst for violence the virus instilled in them. Reports of multiple Gore Magala had fueled the guild speculation that this might be some sort of mating grounds for the infected dragons, but now that she was here wandering amongst the trees she didn't think that was the case. Monster mating grounds had clutches of eggs, and she had seen none, nor were any females there to choose or protect nesting sites. If there had been, she would have encountered one already...
Feeling as though something was very wrong, the Huntress kept one hand on the long handle of her greatsword as she paced further into the wood, alert for any sign of trouble. Only Gore Magala could spread the virus like this that the guild knew, and yet, this didn't feel like a multitude of Gore were responsible for this, for there were few to none of the typical signs of their presence...
No... This felt different, more dangerous than a Gore... there was a tension in the air that she couldn't quite place, and a faint... Shimmering? There was something glimmering in the trees, a shining scale, almost the polar opposite of a Gore's dusty black ones... "Where did you come from, and who do you belong to..." Yenna murmured as she carefully dislodged it from the tree bark and examined it... "What is going on here...?"
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As she plucked the scale, she would notice a few glimmering specs along it, reminiscent of the gore magala's frenzy spores. But instead of instilling a feeling of hatred and desire to fight all who crossed their path, this dust seemed to fill the body with an insatiable heat.
All along the forest, one could see broken trees and torn up earth, but not from the thrall of battle as made evident by the numerous splashes of rather pungent monster fluids along the ground and trees.
This looked less like a battle frenzy and more like a mating frenzy. As you pondered what could have caused this, a large shadow is cast overhead. What originally looked like the sun revealed itself to be a star-winged golden magala, the beast crashing through the trees, the same golden dust falling from its shimmering scales and spreading around it.</s>
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Shee-it.
That was the thought that went through Roman Godfrey's mind as he scanned the club. Young, beautiful women and hip men danced with abandon to the thrumming music. The walls practically shook with the bass line, and the scent of pot and cigarettes, alcohol and sex wafted through the air, mixed in with the pheromones and sweat that emanated from the tuned-in and turned-on couples on the dance floor.
His dark pea coat and tight pants gave him a commanding silhouette. He looked like a catwalk model, long tapers of his boots stylish in the way that only the filthy rich could look. His hair was casually messy; stylish and long enough to be sensual without making him look too feminine. There was a kind of classic James Dean look to him that night; a result of the immortal Upir blood that flowed in his veins, despite his short years on earth. He was going to live forever. He just had to find someone to satiate the physical hunger his body craved that night.
Oh, it wasn't hunger so much as lust. He had drank enough nutrient to keep him satiated deep into the morning. No...what he needed was a beautiful girl with a hot, tight body who would match the angst and sensual need for sex and violence, repeatedly. He was looking for that spark of intelligence and kink that would keep him turned on most of the night; someone who had a high appetite for the physical that went beyond mere grinding. He slid up to the bar and ordered two fingers of Scotch, neat, and scanned the dance floor once again. His eyes slid over most of the patrons as being 'not her'. Not her, not her, not her...maybe her, not her...he sipped the fiery drink and took his time. Once he found 'her' he'd make his move, but until then it was simply enjoyable to see all the pitiful humans bumping and grinding in the hopes of getting their rocks off later that night.
Roman smiled to himself. Worse case scenario he'd simply compel some sweet-mouthed piece of booty to suck him off in the alley. It wouldn't be the first time he simply got off and went home, finding no one in the club worth fucking anywhere but in their pie hole.
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Lacey didn't come here often, in fact, she despised nightclubs and the type of over-cocky assholes that came with them. But what was a hungry predator to do when the place was full of unsuspecting men that she could drain the life from? Nothing was inevitable in Hemlock Grove. She hadn't sensed any other creatures like her; there was one Vargulf that had gone around eating the crotches of women. Pathetic really if you were going to kill someone at least have some creativity to it. Herself had grown tired of the same throat-ripping style that she had kept.
Her amber eyes flickered over the mob of mundanes and something set her senses off. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, someone was disturbing her hunt. Anger twisted her insides, Lacey spotted where the pheromones were coming from. Fuck me, he's good looking, she cursed under her breath. Should she watch from a distance or pull him outside and rip him open? What a waste that would be.
No, it was better to cautiously approach and see what would happen. Slipping closer to where he had stationed himself, she motioned for the bartender to give her a gin and tonic. It would give her enough confidence to challenge her fellow predator.</s>
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Long, slender fingers finished folding up the small, white piece of paper and guided it to the pocket on the front of the dress. Small hands started brushing off some of the dust off the leather black dress. Hazel eyes trailed from her dress up to the large building in front of her. The building didn't look like much. It really didn't. It was hidden pretty well in the world, and the woman wouldn't have been there had her sugar not poked and prodded her to go. Her busy hands moved back to her hair, making sure things were straight before she even entered.
Dr. Harleen Quinzel better known as Harley Quinn let out a sigh as her eyes glanced over the building once more. She was dressed in a form-fitting leather black dress. Her blonde hair was tied up in two pony tails, one to each side. Her pale face perfectly exemplified her deep red lipstick. To finish off the outfit were knee high black leather boots with decent sized heels. It was one thing to walk in them, it was another to fight. Of course, her Joker had sent her here to maybe help her fight the Batman a little bit better. She understood though, defeat after defeat after defeat could weigh heavy on one's psyche. Even a psyche that was so manic could be affected. That was why she was here. The flyer hadn't said much beyond the fact that it was a "Fitness Club."
Heels clicked on the pavement as she entered the facility. The front desk was unmanned and Harley let out an annoyed sound. "Hello?" She called out. Her voice filled with dissatisfaction. It was pretty clear that she didn't want to be there. She stepped slowly, just investigating the place. She was very careful. Her fingers around the heavy, oversized wooden mallet that she had brought with her. If anything, Harley thought, this place would at least allow for her to get a little bit stronger.
"Is anyone home?"
Her voice called out again. When no one showed themselves, she stomped her foot out of annoyance, a pout forming on her lips. Shaking her head, she turned and got ready to walk out the door she had come through.
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The Aphrodite Club once one had gotten inside, would look like any other gym. It had an open spacious venue the building. From the looks of it was unmanned yes, and yet, there was the strange feeling she was being watched the moment she entered the building. Then, slowly appearing before her a woman, tall fit, and blond haired, wearing a jogging suit from the looks of it. Her toned figure, had just enough to it leaving her more beautiful than one might imagine.
"Ahh, so you got the Elite Membership card it seems." The woman comes out from behind the counter and looks at Harley Quinn, and circles her. "I hope you don't plan to bring that mallet onto the exercise floor..." She spoke in a gentle tone, and would move with such fluidity, that even Harley would have trouble not watching her closely. Soon with a snap of her fingers, Harley would have found her changed, from what she had worn upon entering, to what the owner of this place felt would be more fitting for her to wear at a fitness club.
The mallet would also vanish, it seems that the woman was not fond of people bringing weapons into a club like this. "Now then, I am Miss Aphrodite, and I do hope you have come to do some sweating?" Aphrodite spoke calmly, and gently reached a hand out placing it along the center of Harley's torso. Then, she glides a hand in circles till she had a feel, "It seems I have just the work-out for you, should you still want to participate?" The blond fit woman said calmly.</s>
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Carried over from PM
It had been well over a month since the Governor had attacked the prison, scattering the survivors. Rick and Carl and the others were lost, most of the group managing to pair up, though looking for one another. Daryl and Beth had relied upon one another this last month, becoming lovers, and had slipped into a routine of comfort as they searched for the others.
Beth had taken a tumble, bruising her ribs and arm. Not a life-threatening injury to be sure, but enough that they found themselves grounded and holed up in an almost empty store, the owners long departed or dead.
Daryl had held Beth through the night, sleeping light and keeping an ear out for anything amiss. Habit made him set up the small perimeter fence even though they were inside and he'd yet to see the walkers learn to open doors. Kissing the top of Beth's head Daryl got up to take a piss, the barest hint of light peeking over the horizon. As he stood there, dick in hand, the telltale sound of an engine could be heard coming down the road. With a quiet curse Daryl finished up and got back inside, moving to Beth and covering her mouth just in case she woke up with a start as he gently shook her.
"Hey Beth. Wake up, we got company." Daryl said.
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Beth snuggled against her lover as they slept, her body aching from her tumble but still kept her body tangled around Daryl until he got up. She made a soft noise when he left, but remained asleep. When Daryl shook her, Beth snapped away, struggling to break free when she realized that she was being restrained, a hand over her mouth. But then she recognized the feel of Daryl against her, his voice in her ear. "What are we going to do?" she whispered once he had removed his hand from her mouth. She knew that with her ribs, running would be hard for her, possible but not with her normal speed. But hiding wasn't always a safe option either. But she trusted Daryl completely and knew they could figure this out.</s>
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"What?" came out of Emma Watson's mouth as soon as she heard the news from her agent. Apparently, he'd jumped on the rumors of her playing the "famous" role of Anastasia Steele. Deals had started flying, money had started changing hands, and apparently now Emma had preemptively signed on to actually play the role. Of course, she'd heard of the series; she'd even dared peek at the books. It sounded decidedly unsexy from start to finish, much likeTwilightin all the wrong ways.
But the rumors had started, and her agent apparently was more interested in money. And now that Emma was signed on to the project, she felt she had to commit. However, apparently there was "training" that you had to do to get the part. That, in the general sense, didn't surprise the British actress all that much. She'd undergone dance training before; she'd done accent training; she'd even done some training with "wand waving" and so forth. But the moment they mentioned training for 50 Shades of Grey...
Apparently they got a famous "BDSM expert," or possibly some sort of "sex expert" or "sex trainer" on board. The claim had become that they'd found the best guy in the business to help Emma along. He'd show her precisely what she needed to know to play the innocent girl exposed to BDSM for the first time.
The irony of this situation wasn't lost on Emma, who'd been fending off suitors since before she even became legal. Unfortunately, between being Hermione Granger and her busy work schedule, such details as sex sort of fell to the wayside. Emma had learned to use various toys. Funny "fans" had ended up sending various wands for years to her, and Emma had picked one up about the time she'd gotten just curious. Sometimes she needed to destress, and that was the best way to do it. There were times when she dug her toes into sheets and clenched her jaw to swallow down some orgasms from time to time. They often teased that English were sexually repressed, and at times Emma fit the bill.
Not that she wasn't attractive enough. Again: the fans had made that clear. As had the modeling agencies and several others. Emma had that good balance between girl next door and high scale model that held mass appeal. Some light freckles dotted a slender face. Brown eyes expressed almost every one of her intelligent thoughts. Her body was slight, built like the dancer she played in at least one film, but it seemed to fit her well. Her long legs had been shown in a few of her roles, and she'd learned to use them well enough.
And now that woman stood outside a relatively reclusive location. It apparently belonged to the sex trainer, and he apparently made a bit of money, judging by its impressive location and facade. The message had been for Emma to pack a few bags for a weekend, and she'd done so. Simply a duffel with some clothes and a satchel with some makeup and accessories. For now she'd dressed simply, as was recommended: black workout pants and a pink exercise shirt. Her russet hair had been twisted up into a slightly sloppy tail that kept the slightly curled strands off her slender shoulders.
Sighing, she knocked twice before sliding into the domicile, knowing she was already supposed to arrive. She looked around curiously, trying to find where the "trainer" happened to be and where she was supposed to go to get this training started.
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Eric Wright had agreed to help Ms. Watson prepare for her roll, for several reasons. The huge sums of money they were throwing at him to prepare her for the role didn't hurt, but his primary impetus was that he was going to get his hands on Emma Watson, and he had plans to put in a bit of... 'extra' work, gratis, to take her and mold her into his owned woman. He smirked to himself at the thought. But that would come in time; no need to get ahead of himself. Normally what he did was borderline therapeutic work; helping a bored housewife discover her sexuality to delight her husband or even the occasional work with a couple porn stars to help them with some of their performances.
Eric was a hair over six feet tall, with a lean yet muscular build which he worked hard to maintain. He had handsome, chiseled features, with short brown hair, piercing hazel eyes and perfect teeth, his face religiously kept clean-shaven, along with his chest and manhood. Today he was dressed in a pair of blue jeans, a simple white t-shirt, and a pair of running shoes that he could easily slip off when he needed to.
The location she'd been directed to was off the beaten path, on the outskirts of L.A. in a mostly abandoned industrial area, specifically a 'hidden' loft in an old warehouse; the entire setup screamed 'privacy'.
When she knocked he opened his door, locking it again behind her.
"Ah, Ms. Watson. A pleasure." he said, his voice smooth, with only the barest hint of a Texas accent.
"I'm Mr. Wright. I'm sure you have been told exactly why you're here, correct?" he asked, crossing the room to prepare himself a drink at the minibar, motioning to her to ask if she wanted anything.</s>
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Life as the son of a famous Hollywood starlet was great indeed. Especially since he was the son of the world's highest-paid actress, Sandra Bullock. Adam had access to anything he wanted thanks to his mother. Money? Not a problem at all. Work? Easy when most people knew who your mother was. School? A breeze thanks to highly paid tutors and Adam's looks. He was 16 years old and already had the world in the palm of his hand, the only thing missing being a lovely lady to share in all the spoils with. He was by no means bad looking; he stood at five feet and eleven inches tall and still growing. He kept his dirty blonde hair somewhat long, long enough to keep it styled, and his eyes matched the hazel of his mother's. So no, it wasn't his looks at all. It couldn't be who he was since girls practically threw themselves at him on hearing his name alone. It was the fact that he got a little shy around girls. Sure, he could put on the bravado of some playboy with millions of dollars backing him, but when it came to girls, that bravado shrunk to where he got cotton mouth when a girl came to talk to him, whether or not it was about something clean or something not worth mentioning. It seemed like the only woman he could hold a conversation with was his mother, and it really caused Adam sexual frustrations. Speaking of which, he wondered if his mother was around the house somewhere. He knew that everyone else was gone, but he didn't know where his mother was today.
He crept out of his room and slowly walked around the house to try and find his mother. When he couldn't find her, he figured she was either gone or somewhere inside this big house and that she wouldn't hear him at all. With that confidence in mind, he quickly dashed to his mother's master bedroom and closed the door behind him. He looked around for a moment until he came across her dirty clothes hamper. He searched through it until he came across a nice dark pair of her silk panties. He took them out and put them to his nose. He took a deep inhale and savored it; they smelled just like his mother and something a little more. The smell was something bitter sweet and musky. He let his imagination wander and smiled at the thought of what it was - his mom got a little turned on while wearing these. He turned and went to the bed and sat down. He unzipped his pants and pulled them down with his boxers. He wrapped the silk garment around his cock and began to pump his hand up and down his hardened member, thinking about his mother. Since she really was the only woman he could hold a conversation with, they were closer than he and anyone else were. So occasionally his imagination strayed from the pure side and he had some sexual fantasies involving his mother, who could blame him? His mother was Sandra Bullock for crying out loud! She was wealthy, powerful, smoking hot, a triple threat! Adam began to moan loudly as he thought about his mother, which is why he did this when no one was in the house, hopefully no one was today.
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Sandra had a late call the night before, it was a director who wanted to speak with her at the earliest time possible to discuss a movie. It was 7am and the actress had already left her mansion to go to the director's house. Pulling up in his driveway, she got out and rang the doorbell. The actress was wearing a tight white dress that showed every inch of her delicious curves and stopped just short above her knees. Her flesh on her legs were on show down to where her black heels gave her some extra height. Jewellery wasn't high on her agenda but she wore a bracelet on her right wrist which was her grandmother's and a wedding ring on her left hand which had a diamond so big it was hard to miss. Sandra's hair was down today, falling just below her shoulder, just the right length that she liked. Her face didn't have too much makeup on apart from some eyeliner to make her eyes stand out and a red lipstick applied to her lips.
Sandra was seen by the director now, she waved goodbye and put some sunglasses on as she stepped into her Mercedes. Reversing out of the driveway, she drove away heading back home. The meeting went quite well; she hadn't worked with this person before but he seemed keen and impressed with her, and she felt the same about him. They looked over the script, talked about what kind of character she would be playing and who else would be starring in it. Sandra was happy and that was most important as she stopped at a traffic light. Leaning over to her passenger seat, she looked through her bag for her cell phone. Holding it to her ear, she tried to get in touch with her son Adam, but it seemed he wasn't around to answer, which confused her because he always picked up.
Turning the corner in to her street, she saw her mansion with no vehicles parked outside, and everyone was out, it being a weekend. After the film star had parked her car, she used the keys from her bag to open the door and everything was still and quiet. Stepping out of her heels and putting them to one side, she walked barefoot, lifting her sunglasses to sit on top of her head. Placing the bag she carried on the table in the corridor, she walked up the marble stairs to her son's room. It was empty, and she saw his phone on his bed. Just as she picked it up, she heard a noise coming from what sounded like her bedroom. The marriage wasn't exactly at its happiest, and thoughts flooded in her mind with what she might find out. Walking silently thanks to her bare feet, she pushed her door open slowly to see something that shocked her. Dropping her son's phone, it smashed on the floor, breaking it. "Adam?!"</s>
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Leia's eyes were wide with terror as Han and Luke were thrust forward into the pit of Carkoon. Fighting the urge to scream, tears ran down her face as the sarlacc devoured her friends along with any hope of escaping.
"You monster! You beast!" She voice was ragged and full of pain. Jabba let out a grunting laugh, not at all bothered by the scenes before him. If anything, he seemed to find pleasure in Leia's misery. Punishment for her betrayal.
Her plan to escape had failed. Instead of a rotting corpse, Jabba sat with a mere scratch from her attempted assassination. The chain Leia was adorned with was now much thicker, too heavy to try again. Not that she'd ever have another chance like that. Her only salvations were now being digested by his favorite pet.
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Jabba's laugh caused his fat rolls to jiggle, which Leia could feel on her back. His feline eyes peered at his new prize. "You will now come to appreciate me, princess," he said, licking his lips. "I'm your only chance at a good life now." He laughed loudly as he motioned for a guard. The guard held a large syringe with a pink liquid in it. He pressed the syringe into Leia's neck and injected her with the very powerful and potent aphrodisiac. Jabba had wanted Leia's mind to be completely under his control when she witnessed the death of her friends. Now that it was over, he intended to turn her into little more than his slut and cum dumpster.</s>
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Rey Mysterio stared up at the menacing face of the Big Show. A true David vs Goliath story, as he had to beat this man to claim the WWE Championship belt. He had versed the Big Show many times before, and had even won on a few occasions. He hoped he could pull that off once again.
The ding of a bell announced the start of the match, and the big lumbering man began to walk towards the much smaller Mexican Luchador. Sliding between the giant's legs, he had almost gotten through, when he felt a large hand clamp around his neck. In a few moments, Rey was held in the air, and thrown into a corner. The speed (or lack thereof) of the Big Show was then shown as he ran towards Rey with the intent of clotheslining him. Ducking out of the way at the last moment, Rey drop-kicked his opponent into the ropes, setting up a magnificent 619 opportunity.
Bouncing off the opposite ropes, Rey kicked the Big Show's waiting face and climbed to the top rope. Jumping off, he landed on the Big Show and went for the pin. "1... 2..." The ref started, before Rey was literally thrown off the big man. "Urghh.." Rey groaned softly, sliding out of the ring to regain some stamina. This is when he remembered Paige was in the Big Show's corner. "I'll be watching." Stacy told the masked man, winking at him before he slid back into the ring. Avoiding a Big Boot, Rey began kicking at the Big Show's legs. Once off balance, the Big Show was yet again put in a 619 position. One more kick to the face later, and the Big Show seemed out for good.
"Hey, Big Boy.. Have a look at these." Rey heard. Turning around behind him, he glanced down to find Paige nearby. She opened her bra, revealing her nicely sized chest to him. Those orbs that hung freely for the man to gaze at felt amazing to stare at. Not noticing the hush that surrounded the arena, Rey continued staring, but then was elbowed in the back of the head, knocking him unconscious. The Big Show took the easy pin and won the match.
"Well... It's the Big Show!
It's a big, bad show tonight, yeah"
His theme song began to play as he slowly walked out of the arena. Meanwhile Paige was taking this opportunity to brag about her win earlier that night. She spoke of how weak Stacy Keibler was to have lost to her, missing out on the Women's Championship Belt. Paige stood next to Rey Mysterio's unconscious body, which was not moving. Jerry Lawler was exclaiming at the fact that no one was looking after Rey, but it seemed as if most people cared about Paige's speech, or hoped she'd open her bra again...
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Paige wore back her top, covering her breasts again as Big Show started attacking Rey, instantly winning the match. Paige then held the tightropes before putting one leg in and bending over, going into the ring. Paige then walked over to the referee, taking the microphone away from him. She then looked at the still unconscious Rey and started shaking her head left and right.
Paige knelt down on the floor and started crawling towards Rey. She crawled on top of him and sat on him with her crotch rubbing against Rey's crotch. She then unhooked her top to reveal her breasts again. She bent forward and motorboated Rey's face. With her breasts still on Rey's face, she took the microphone and started speaking "Rey is just as big of a loser as that Stacy Keibler. Look at him, even with this on him, he still can't enjoy it because he fucking got knocked out. Just like Stacy, even if she wants a rematch, I will knock the fuck out of her again."
Stacy Keibler who had been hiding among the crowd couldn't stand Paige anymore. Paige was facing the other way, Stacy quickly jumped past the crowd barrier and slipped into the ring. At this moment, Paige just got up and hooked her top back on. Stacy grabbed Paige by her hair and slammed her rolling on the ground. She then kicked Paige in the tummy a few times before grabbing her hair and pulling her up again.
Stacy then grabbed Paige's arm and pushed her towards the corner. Paige landed hard on the corner and was groggy. Stacy walked seductively in a catwalk manner towards Paige and then as Paige turned around, she gave her famous kick on Paige's neck, pushing her feet against Paige's neck. Right after that, Stacy grabbed Paige and threw her across the tightrope, Paige landed hard and couldn't get up anymore.
Stacy then slowly exited the ring and went down to Paige and said it to her face "The enemy of my enemy is my friend." She then walked out of the arena. Stacy then waited in the back stage for Rey to come.</s>
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Elise Torwin had definitely made some bad decisions in her life, but this one might have been one of the worst. She wasn't even entirely sure he knew her name. She didn't know his -- not for lack of trying, it had been redacted -- but here she was. Sitting in the back of an unmarked truck, briefcase in her lap, and a large imposing man sitting next to her. Everything was silent, except for the soft sound of breathing and the noises that came with a large truck moving. She had to break it though, she had a job to do."Give me your arm."This scenario was familiar. It had happened more than once before; he obeyed and she sedated him so that he wouldn't cause trouble between here and when they could get him into the chair.
After the Captain America fiasco, sedative had been the only way to convince the higher ups that they shouldn't just 'end the program' right away. It was a strange and confusing moment of morality for the psychiatrist, and luckily she'd had a little time to think about things. Now though, they were using him more; one last burst to try and clean up some of the mess, killing SHIELD and HYDRA and anyone else they needed to be quiet now that so much was out in the open. Elise had no issue with the killing, and she'd used to have no issue with dealing with the asset, either. But now during the debriefings he looked at her with slightly more humanity in his eyes, and she could no longer wash away the smell of electricity and singed human hair that seemed to cling to her after she had to recommend the electric 'treatment' again. The doctor had always prided herself on her rational and emotionless way of looking at things, but once the feelings had started, she'd been entirely unsure of how to handle them.
So now here she was. She'd spent the last month carefully withdrawing massive amounts of money, unsure if HYDRA was able to observe her bank account or not, and it was in her briefcase now, stacks of hundreds, fifties, and twenties rubber banded together. She'd memorized as much as she could off of his files, what they hadn't entirely removed of his history. She was pretty sure that if this worked he was going to kill her too, but she'd accepted this. Death by the man she'd helped to torture and control was probably what she deserved, but she might be able to use her knowledge to survive.
She knew only he could see inside her briefcase, so when she opened it and removed the small vial and needle, he'd see what was in it. That was good, he'd need it.
"I have a new formula today that should eliminate some of the side effects," Elise said with confidence. The burly man sitting across from her let out a gruff "it doesn't matter, he doesn't care", and Elise fixed him with an icy, almost elitist stare. She was the one with a degree, if she said that a new chemical was needed, it was needed. Of course, in this case she'd actually cleaned out the container and replaced it with a harmless saline mixture, but only she knew it. Carefully she took his arm, prepped the needle, and injected the large assassin.
Now it was out of her control.
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'Bucky thinking,' the asset thinks.
'The asset thinking,' he thinks.
Memories.
"Physically speaking," he says.
It's like a crack that he can't fill. He doesn't want the memories to keep coming back. It doesn't want them. There is a war in his mind and both sides are fighting furiously. Both know the risks of what this means. Remembering. It brings pain, more than pain. Pain he can handle. Pain they can both handle. The weapon and the man sharing one body. They are comfortable with pain, it is a daily thing. Pain is something handlers don't tolerate. The chair brought desolation and despair. It was pure agony.
Memories lead to the chair.
They both want the memories gone.
The body mumbles, unintelligible words lower than a whisper.
Three two five... five,
The needle was wrong. There was no warmth traveling through the muscle, spreading through the blood to cause him to be slow, altered. The asset's head shifts to the right, the side she is sitting on, three and a half inches. Eyes following the motion as the asset looks to the doctor. He'd seen the money. Something was different.
The burly man leans back, his head tilting up as his eyes close. Relaxing since the doctor had done her job and the asset will be easier to put down should he try anything.
'You need to get away. They're going to erase you again. This is your chance. You have a chance. You need to run.'
'It has no mission. Asset does not have a weapon. Handler's present.'
The asset turns his gaze to the man.
'They're going to put us in the chair!'
'We are a weapon.'
When the truck they were traveling in hits a bump, his metal arm moves forward, the palm connecting with the burly man's nose, pushing firm cartilage into his brain. He shivers and dies. The asset sits silently.
Falling. Snow. Screaming. Pain.
Bucky.
Sergeant. Serial number 32557038.
He was a he. Not an it. He was trained to be a weapon but he wasn't an object. The notion keeps coming faster and faster after each wipe. The crack getting bigger, flooding his brain faster with facts. Facts Hydra had tried to keep from him.
His eyes, human and alert yet cold and dangerous, turn to her once more. Why? He asks simply. He knows she is smart. He knows who she is and what she'd done to him. They have time. He kills. He wants to kill her. But first he has to know why she'd given him a needle which didn't put him down.</s>
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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 snicker escaped his lips as he lay back on the cold wet rooftop. His voices 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! 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-"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 than that... It's always nice to be on the right side of the moral line."
"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.'As Wade walked a fair distance from the roof's edge, he spoke once more. However, its stupidity was so profound that even one voice in his head could know it was really dumb. "And I'm 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 shattered and sparkled in the dim light of the moon as the ominous figure rolled 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 staring at her amazing 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. My own man will personally see to it that she dies. I would rather this have been done quietly, but it would seem im left with little choice. Just know, never speak of me with such irreverence again." Before the voice can respond, Fisk's fist slams against 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... 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... 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..."
Miles away at the X Mansion~
Meanwhile, while events slowly played into motion, the X mansion remained quiet... It was a quiet night. Most students were gone to see family, friends, or on vacation. Because the X-Men were off saving the world. And because of that they just about had no professors to teach them. Few remained, and Jacob was one of those few.
"Waaaaait! Hold on. Time out, narrator... This... This is shameful self promotion." Wade, you're not here, go away.
Not till I know why this dweeb is named after you. "Oh... Well! Can't really argue. Ha ha, carry on then."
Anyway, where was I? Oh yes! Jacob was not too excited about his current situation. He liked being in the action! Sure, he was a greenhorn, but he wanted to fight too. The only thing that made staying put worth it, was her... He could hardly believe his luck! Practically alone, with Rogue, for at least a few weeks? It was like a dream. Or some bad fan fiction.
As the night settled in, Jacob had found his way to the pool. A slight sigh escaping his lips as he shuffled about. He did not really have any plans to enter the pool. His attire evident to that, jeans, hoodie and hat. He simply needed a place to relax. Take in some fresh air! Sitting around the edge of the pool, Jacob began to look up at the stars. Raising his hand high above his head, to see it in plain view with them. With a flicker, his hand was engulfed in an odd form of matter. It pulsed in his hand, seeming to have the consistency of liquid but almost as if it were to just arch like an electrical current. However, it stayed in place, despite its almost fluid appearance. Plasma, the fourth state of matter. There was a time where Jacob could have just stayed 'what?' to the very mention of a fourth state of matter. But now days, he has grown to be a bit more intelligent. After all, he lives in a school. And while Science was not always his strong suit. He had come to appreciate the knowledge of the science around his power. And the things he can do by controlling it... Looking up, and comparing his hand to the night sky. His mind's eye could see almost no difference. In that sky there were millions of stars, each explosive balls of pure plasma. It humored him every time he thought of it. The idea that, in a way, what he carried in his hand, was his own little star. But even with that thought humoring him well... His mood was still slightly drab.
Happy? Yes, he was happy to be here with Rogue. But nervous as well... He has not exactly made his feelings a secret. In fact, he has tried for quite some time to make things closer between them. However, nothing's come of it. She just takes things at face value. As jokes, teasing, and playful flirting. Is it possible she just thinks he is being playful like he is with every one else? Or is she simply playing dumb? Maybe she just doesn't like him in that way... It would hurt, but it wouldn't be too surprising. Loving a girl like her well... He ain't ignorant to the dangers involved. Actually, it kind of turned him on! "Great Jacob your just an ignoramus..."He said to himself jokingly. After all, it took a special kind of fool to look at a girl that can break you with super strength and absorb your powers till you're in a coma or worse as a 'sexy kind of dangerous.' But really, you had to know her to understand that it was not so foolish. Any man would feel that. In fact, many men have! And Jacob would surely not be the last.
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"Oh! What a nice apartment!" Mina exclaimed as she looked around. "Mine's just plain out crap. But this is pretty charming. Not as big but lots of personality. Though, it needs more unicorns don't you think? Or, huh! Maybe a uni-lion? How about that. How are you by the way?" Truthfully, Adeline should have been expecting something, especially after what had happened the night before. She was planning to move, get out of town, and get back to SHIELD...but apparently she had been too slow. There was no question as to who had just burst through her window; she knew the man well, by reputation only. Smart mouth, kinda nuts...assassin...shit! The blonde went to move, quickly scooting from where she had been lounging on the bed towards the edge. It wasn't helping the situation or her awkwardness that she wasn't dressed appropriately for visitors. Having been getting ready for bed, Adeline was in her pajamas, or at least what she considered to be comfortable sleepwear. Long blonde hair was pulled up into a ponytail, which was loose and starting to fall to the side of her head. As she moved, the edge of the bed caught her off guard, causing her to fall off the mattress and hit the wooden floor with a thud.
Green eyes peered up over the bed, watching as the masked man continued his conversation, seemingly with himself? Unless he was telling her to shut up, which didn't seem likely since she hadn't said anything. Keeping her eyes locked on her impromptu visitor, her hands started fiddling with the nightstand, hoping that she had something, anything that might help her defend herself. The pistol she usually carried was on the kitchen table, right next to her phone and SHIELD badge. None of it too helpful being so far away.
"But I don't want to! Because you're really hot. And I want to do ya... I mean, because I want to make sure I'm not killing an innocent. You don't seem like some supervillain. You're not a supervillain, right? No ray guns or anything?"
The words came out just as she went to throw...a romance novel at him? Ugh...brilliant. A long slender arm reeled back with a paperback gripped in her fingers. It wasn't going to do anything, she knew she looked stupid...but she had already fallen off the bed, the bar was already set pretty low.
"Wait...did you just say do me? Are you twelve?"
The paperback hit the ground, Adeline dropping it as her eyes narrowed in on the supposed assassin. The second part of his statement intrigued her though, as she certainly wouldn't turn down help. Especially from someone with more successes than failure under his belt. At least from what she had gathered from his file at SHIELD.
"I'm not a supervillain, I'm not even a kind of sub-par average villain."Adeline made it to her feet, moving slowly, not sure what was going to happen as this whole situation was a bit...odd. "And if I had a ray gun I wouldn't have threatened you with a book...paper cuts can be brutal though..."
Now that she was standing, she was reminded of her clothing...or lack thereof. Clearing her throat, she crossed one arm over her chest and let the other dangle down to try and cover her crotch. It was quickly decided that it wasn't enough cover, and she reached for the sheet on the bed, tugging at it and wrapping around her petite frame. "If you really want to help, I wouldn't say no," she said with a smile. "But if you're looking to score, the girl in 203 has an excellent rack...and I heard she's easy." She winked at him, hoping he would take the bait.
If he wasn't going to help her, she might as well distract him. Of course, she left out the all-important detail that the girl in 203 wasn't entirely female...but that was something he could learn on his own.
Rogue had been bored all day, to the point where she actually cleaned her room. It wasn't often she stayed behind, and she was starting to remember why that was. Everyone else was off having a good time, and she was stuck at home doing chores. At least she wasn't alone, although she hadn't seen Jacob all day. It was odd that he would stay behind, especially with everything so unbelievably boring. With a groan, she pulled herself up from her bed and made her way downstairs.
The lights were on, automatically sensing the setting sun and coming to life. After peeking in a few of the common areas with no sign of life, she assumed he had maybe gone to bed or wanted to be alone somewhere. Of course as soon as she made it to the kitchen, she was able to make out his silhouette by the pool. For a moment, she just watched him, curious as to what he was doing. It seemed like a personal moment, and she almost felt a bit strange spying on him. Pulling a beer from the fridge, she popped off the lid carefully, not breaking the neck of the bottle. Super strength had its downsides sometimes. Flicking the cap into the trash, she took a deep pull from the amber brew and made her way to the large sliding glass door.
"Hey shug...enjoying the sunset?" The soft southern drawl lifted through the air. It wasn't nearly as thick as it used to be, now being in Yankee territory, but it was still there. The sun was no longer visible, just a thin ribbon of pink painting the horizon, with stars already visible. "Or are you planning on taking a dip and want some... privacy..." Of course she was referring to his attire if he was going to get into the pool, there would probably be some undressing. With a soft chuckle, she made her way outside, the buckles on her boots jingling with every step. It was nice to be in normal clothes, although she still wore her faded leather jacket as it had become like a security blanket at this point.
"Is it wrong that I'm itching for some kind of disaster? Nothing big, but I'm getting restless. Makes me wonder why you're here though. I volunteered to be on house watch; you could easily be somewhere else..."</s>
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The ships crept out of the mist from the east, their high prows breaking through the mist before the wide, low hulls appeared. Oars dipped into the dark, foreboding sea pushing the boats forward. The small fleet, 23 strong, each ship holding men and women along with supplies as excitement rose while the oars dipped and rose bringing them to shore. Rollo stood in the prow of his ship, naked from the waist up, tattoos dark on rippling muscles as he gripped the haft of his large axe, a hand around the neck of the serpent attached to the prow. Ragnar hung in the rear of the center ship, eyes darting about as they planned and thought, the beach and the lands of Kent coming into view. Floki's lean, dark form hung off the head of the dragon, limbs swaying the body fore and back, high-pitched laughter echoing in excitement off the waves as they neared the beach.
Rollo grabbed his long-handled axe and leaped from the bow of the boat to the beach, sauntering past the tide line to the long grass along the small beach's edge. Bjorn came behind, an appraising eye on his nephew with sword, shield, and armor. The freshly shaven sides of his head bristled in the faded mist of the morning. "No armor today uncle?" Bjorn asked, a titter from Floki behind who leaped to join them.
Rollo turned then looked at the green fields that stretched before them, responding reverently, "I'm armored by the gods." Pounding his chest with a closed fist while the men gathered about, the boats pulled up onto the sand, the dull scratching of wood on sand surrounding them for a moment.
"Well, let's hope the gods keep you that way," Bjorn joked recalling the archers they had faced in Wessex and Mercia. Laughter scattered among the men that formed a line on either side of Rollo as Ragnar, Rollo's younger brother and King of the Vikings, walked through them and led the way with a wry smile.
Rollo replied in mock seriousness, "If they don't then I will curse you with my dying breath, and welcome you to Valhalla with the next." The raiders strode off the beach swords and shields at the ready. The men around laughing as Bjorn rolled his eyes and followed with a fading blush on his cheeks.
On the rise ahead of them a small village was still a rush of activity as they stalked across the field, the shouts of the villagers echoed in the silence of the morning, shapes ran over the rise, scattering in all directions. Nearing the thatched huts only a few men stayed in the middle of the village, a small hunting bow aimed at them. The small fletched arrow sunk into Bjorn's shield in front of Rollo. Bjorn looked at the quivering arrow and raised an eyebrow, Rollo laughed and ran forward, bringing the axe down on the man with the bow. Leaving one man alive, Ragnar questioned the man on the ground next to the dead villagers.
The raiders went through the huts, the villagers gone, only a stray dog left to scare the raiders away. The dog's incessant barking was silenced with a loud whine as the meager possessions of the huts were pulled out. Valuable metal was placed in the center of the huts as spoil while the ships were emptied and the supplies stored in the village. Rollo listened as Ragnar talked to the old man, the old man whined and pleaded as piss soaked his pants, Ragnar's threats with a dagger and Rollo's bloodied axe persuaded the man to tell them about the castle nearby. Rollo listened intently, learning some of the Angles language by listening to Athelstan and Ragnar in the past he had kept his knowledge of the language to himself.
"Brother," Ragnar came up and clapped Rollo on the shoulder, "I think you should lead the next raid." The intent blue eyes looked up at him, the easy smile that came to Ragnar's face, as most things did easily for Ragnar. Rollo simply shrugged and with a wave to the men they walked on, the mass following him across the rolling green fields.
The road was not that far from the village, the old man had told Ragnar that a castle was nearby. That much he understood. If there were spoils they would be there, Rollo knew it and while Ragnar had just gestured away from the village Rollo made up his own mind. Turning up the road, the men followed expecting something, anything, it did not matter since there was bound to be something in the land. Ragnar wanted the land, the obsession with farming had brought them here once before, Rollo had not minded since they left fairly wealthy, but since the death of Siggy home felt hollow. Empty. He wanted something, anything, that he did not have to share with Ragnar.
The soldiers waited near the castle, that made Rollo pause as the men lined up beside him. Bjorn on his right as his shield, Rollo's hands gripped the stout handle of the axe tight, the muscles of his arms tensing as they formed the shield wall and walked towards the soldiers, the line a pitiful resistance to the hundreds of raiders covering the field. The raiders were a dark line that spread, like a great scythe ready to slice the castle from its foundations. The soldiers wore links of chain and carried sword and shield, one was mounted who stayed behind the line that advanced towards them, feet stomping across the ground a slow swell that built to a thunderous roar. Rollo felt the tension build as they slowly closed, the smell of sweat from the nervous men at his side assaulting his nostrils, the castle looming behind the soldiers. Raiders and soldiers stepped cautiously forward on the plain, the road a wide dark curve in the green fields about them, the soldiers stopped but the raiders kept moving faster and faster.
In a few heartbeats they were together, the clash of arms rose and fell as the wave of raiders fell upon the soldiers. Men cursed and cried out as the soldiers tried to hold them back, the raiders being all men eager for plunder and blood. The soldiers, mostly older men, perhaps seasoned but a few who had never been in a shield wall who cowered and were the first to fall. The smell of piss and fear surrounded Rollo as he leaped through the line, axe swinging behind and above his head to come down and land on the head of a soldier as he touched the ground. The dull sound of blade on helmet came before the splatter of blood, the warm touch of it on Rollo's skin sent his heart racing. Giving a deafening yell, lost amid a dozen others, he jabbed and swung the axe at the men around him, nervous swords shaking and shields raised in fear as the soldiers stepped back then fell at the innumerable raiders that crowded around.
"Come on," Rollo yelled as the soldiers fell back or down, blood soaking into the ground at their feet.
The horseman rode at them, sword pointed down to run them through. Rollo stood before the horse, facing this once before he had learned. As the horse came he ducked to the other side and brought up the axe, the horse's momentum brought it into the axe blade and as the shrill whinny came the axe had bit through the chest and almost to the leg of the rider before the horse fell. The rider grunted as the horse fell trapping the soldier's leg beneath, before the horse could rise Rollo stepped over and brought the axe down into the man's chest. Armor and bone separating before the heavy blade.
Turning towards the castle Rollo noted the silence as they were under the walls, the doors closed, but nothing sounded within. Eyes went from the high walls, to the towers at the corners, no one seemed to be in sight. "What do you think Bjorn?" Turning a cool eye towards his nephew, hefting the axe onto his shoulder, blood dripping down the haft, darkening the wood. "Should we knock and see if anyone is home?" As the raiders crowded before the gates, pushing and chopping at the edges, Rollo turned to two young men at the back of the group. "You two, run back and tell Ragnar we have taken the castle." One of the young men, barely old enough to have grown a beard looked downcast. A voice griped, "but we'll miss the plunder." Gesturing with the axe between the boys legs, Rollo stood close, looking down with mad eyes and a growl in his voice, "you'll miss more than that!" Fear ran across the man's face as his eyes widened. "If you hurry, you won't miss it all. Now go!" Shouting the last order, the two men took off running down the road. Turning to the gate, it was moving back and forth as the men pushed. The bar inside was sturdy and resisted the raiders as they heaved. Rollo added his own muscles to the line of men who pushed forward, a wave of motion that ran back and forth to the gate. The bar held, and he looked at the walls warily, expecting something from the tops, but no men showed. Judging the height, it was not a high wall, they had no ladders to reach the top though it was not that high. Getting a few men by the corner of the gate where the wall was low had them get on each other's shoulders. They were able to reach most of the way up.
Walking back, Rollo judged the men and the height. Bjorn stood beside the men, a look of hesitation on his face as he eyed Rollo sensing the intention. "Are you sure?"
"Why not? No worse than running uphill," holding the axe tight, Rollo sprinted to the wall, a foot on each man who suddenly saw Rollo heading towards them and stiffened. The first footfall was met with a groan as Rollo's momentum brought him up to the next man. Another foot and he began to feel his weight drag him back, pushing upwards. The men shivered but held under him. The last man shouted in preparation as Rollo placed his foot square on the man's back, the empty arm reached up and fingertips clasped the edge of the stone. The arm tensed and with his own shout and prayer to Odin, Rollo was up and sitting on the edge of the wall, looking down at the men below. A cheer went up as he grinned widely, the men stopped their heaving at the gate, raising his arms, the axe free in his hand, Rollo spun on his ass and turned to face the empty wall. Warily, he heaved himself off the edge, stepping down to the walkway, looking for an enemy. It was quiet, except for a sound that came from far away, he could not tell what it was. Coming from deep within the castle, it continued, rhythmic in a way, like a prayer almost.
Moving to the gatehouse and down to the inner gate, Rollo swung the axe up twice, loosening the bar and sliding it aside with the muscles in his shoulders tightening and straining with the effort. The gates parted and the raiders entered with a cheer, the men shouting Rollo's name as they entered. Bjorn gave him an impressed smile. "Come on, Bjorn," Rollo said, "let's see what they left us."
Men ran throughout the halls, the sounds of plunder filling empty halls. The clatter of plates and dishes, cracking wood of locked doors and chests sounded as the cheers and shouts of the men echoed. It was not a big place, Rollo was amazed at how the people liked to build these big stone houses, then when the raiders came they ran away. It seemed like a waste of effort. The men were enjoying themselves in a hall, finding a cask of ale they were handing out cups to those who came by, three came up and handed Rollo a big cup that he drained with a smile then took another and wandered through the halls. Hearing again that sound as he neared a set of stairs that curled upwards.
Axe on his shoulder, he climbed up, the sound increasing. It was a song he realized, coming from somewhere above. Simple, and slightly haunting, but the voice was pleasant. Calming. Feeling at ease, perhaps it was the ale, Rollo wandered down towards a closed door, as he opened it he stood quietly, axe on one hand and ale in the other. In the room before the window, a vision from the gods greeted him, the woman was young, with a wide, round face and dressed all in white. For a moment, as she turned, Rollo thought he had died and it was one of the valkyrie come to take him to Valhalla. A quick look down saw the blood of his enemies but nothing of his own.
She was breathtaking, as the eyes turned towards him he saw the lips parted. The song that had lured him came from her, the wide lips parted slightly as she looked up at him. Eyes bright and defiant. The simple white gown revealed a generous bosom, the long braid of hair was snaked with pearls. For a moment he was not sure what was more precious, her or the pearls. Then Rollo realized he had been holding his breath and exhaled deeply. Taking a sip of the ale as he looked at her, a wry smile changing to one of amusement. From behind two raiders came up the stairs and seeing the woman they began to move around Rollo, large as he was the door still had space. Raising his arms to block them he said simply, harshly, "mine."
The two men slunk away as he walked into the room. Softly closing the door behind him, placing the cup on a table, leaning the axe next to it. "Are you all alone here?" He asked in Norse, seeing how small and unafraid she was. A true beauty, he had not seen anyone as desirable as Lagertha when they were younger. Siggy still remained in his heart and he loved her still, but the feelings that rose for this songstress were something deeper. Trying to seem as unmenacing as he could half naked and half covered in blood, he walked up to her.
Switching to English, he held out his hands empty to show he meant no harm. "Hello."
Rollo couldn't help but be taken by surprise in her beauty and demeanor. She had to know what would happen to anyone the raiders found in the castle. Yet she stood here, though shyly casting her eyes down, there was a determination in her that would not have been defeated if he had taken her here and now. Her body would yield under him, but not her spirit. Something about that caused a flash of memory to pass before his eyes. The determination to not lose, to rise out of the depths and come back and reclaim power and position. Siggy had wanted that, wanted it for him, at the time Rollo could barely see outside of his own despair and blindly followed Ragnar and his dreams.
Rollo had dreams once, younger and more thirsty for raiding he had learned to revel in the pleasures of it. A soul unbound, taking what you could without restraint. It was a freedom of the soul that allowed him to feel alive when the rest of him had gone numb. Siggy had brought life back to him, only her death had brought back the melancholy that had taken over part of his life. Now, this woman of light brought a smile to his face. Flush with battle and desire for plunder, or for a woman, she stood before him bearing something in her that made him pause. The set of her shoulders, the head, it all made him think she was more than just another servant. She made him pause, and he did not know why, the gods were mysterious. The prophecy came back to him at that moment, "dancing naked on the beach" the seer had said.
Rollo smiled and walked easily up to her, the sounds of pillage outside continued. "I don't speak it often, but I learned from a monk," the words came hard at first then flowed smoother as he talked. "One of your Christian monks, he taught my brother and me." A smile crept on his face, "taught it to us monsters."
Looking down at her, the deep eyes caught him. Reminded him of Siggy, the voice though, the singing was like the gods and he yearned to hear it again. A chuckle ran through him as he could not help but smile at her, "you do not fear me. Who are you? Do you rule here?"
"Monster? Aye," he growled in good humor as he stepped closer. Rollo turned his head down to look at her to test that name on his lips. "Daralis," the name sounded good, he rolled it around on his tongue again. Looking down into those amused eyes, the title filling his ears and forgotten. These people so loved their titles and relations that it was almost amusing. Though when Rollo heard the name of King Coenwulf that gave him a momentary pause, hiding it away for later consideration.
A slight discomfort slipped through him as he noticed the smell of blood, noticing through the sides of his eyes that he was covered in the blood of his enemies, it always itched as it dried. Next to her, he did look like a monster, large and savage and covered in blood. As the rush and exultation of taking the castle began to fade, he felt the calm afterwards, saying a quick prayer to Odin as he stood closer to the woman dressed in white. Raising a hand up, tilted his face to hers. Locking his eyes with hers, he saw a strength behind those eyes, behind the bearing that he had missed in a woman. "Fearing no one is good, fearing death is better," he said, before moving his mouth down to hers. His lips locked over her own, touching them softly at first then with more passion as he held her face up to him. Fingers on her jaw, light but firm, as his own desires rose as he could smell her. Fresh like a field, unspoiled, the white like a sail waiting for its sigil. Soft skin rested against him, a slight shiver passing through her body as he touched only her lips, feeling everything in that kiss. Daralis was a beauty and a voice that he could truly treasure.
Pulling back, a toothy smile showing in the beard, "you kiss well for the daughter of a king." She was there before him, ready to ravage. He could take her, despoil her, rip the pearls from her hair. A hand reaching up to stroke the woven hair and beads that gleamed within. The thought entertained him for a moment, "I am Rollo," he answered her as he enveloped her with his arms for another, longer kiss.
The voices came closer again, the men who found the kitchen were handing out the ale. Licking his lips Rollo thought about missing his share, though Daralis was far superior to any ale that he might enjoy. Looking down at her wondered what to do, take her now, take her from here, hide her? The question haunted him for a moment until he heard Floki's voice. Then the doors boomed open, Floki with a full cup held with two fingers stood there unsteadily. Gestures always exaggerated the boat builder was a good fighter, but his obsession with the gods could border on the annoying.
"Rollo!" Floki's eyes settled on Daralis, her small form almost hidden behind Rollo, hands joined behind his back. Rollo felt the hand tighten on his as Floki almost stumbled in the room, his usual gangly self a bit unsteady with ale. The dark rimmed eyes gave him a look halfway between drunk and mad idiot. "I had a cup for you," then a giggle as Floki looked at his empty hand, "but I must have drank it. I came to congratulate you, that climb up the wall, most impressive." Speaking as he entered the room, the snake-like body curled around his, dark eyes settling on Daralis. " What kind of treasure did you find, hm?"
Normally Floki was tolerable, but flush with victory and drunk he could be insufferable. Reaching out to take a lock of Daralis' hair the giggle echoing in the small room, Rollo cleared his throat. "Floki," pushing away Floki's arm, "my axe is just over there," the warning was unmistakable.
Floki pulled his arm back as if from a fire, head tilting in acquiescence as he swept his arms out in a mock bow, stepping back a little. "Alright Rollo, alright, if you want her, she's yours." Drinking some more from his cup, Floki turned on his heel with the grace of the newly drunk and wandered out to the hall, turning at the door. "When you are ready," he said, with an unmistakable hint, "we'll be feasting in the hall when Ragnar gets here."
Daralis' fingers had been tight around his calloused hand, but now they relaxed as he let go. Keeping a hold on her hand, fingers entwined possessively, Rollo grinned at Floki and walked over to retrieve the axe. The blood had dried, along with the muck of battle that chafed his skin as he breathed, stepping from the room with axe in hand. He saw that the others had already gleaned through the rooms. Like crows pecking the dead, what was worth anything had been stripped, what wasn't broken or too heavy had been left alone.
Rollo leaned the axe against the wall and took a cloth to wash the blood and muck from his arms, sighing deeply.
Looking at his princess, a vision in her white dress, the jewels in her hair. It put a smile on his face, "seems I found the best treasure of the raid." Reaching down he pulled those sweet lips back towards him, her wide, lush mouth pressed against his. She smelled clean, tasted clean, and as he recalled her voice it was like kissing one of the gods. Beautiful and indescribable at the same time.
Dipping the cloth in the water, he pulled it up to his shoulder, the water running through the blood and muck in thin rivulets that charted the muscular course of his chest. "Stay near me, speak to no one, look at no one," he warned her, "not even Ragnar." If he claimed Daralis as his woman they'd stay clear. A few would look, but knocking a head or two would resolve that and she would be left alone. What he did not want was her letting loose his secret of knowing her language.
He wanted her, but taking her now would just invite others to try and take a turn after, the few who wandered up towards them wandered away with a look and a growl. While the heat of victory was on them all she was in danger until the celebration had ended, and with the raucous singing below the feasting had begun. The rise of voices told him Ragnar came, if his brother's eye came on Daralis he'd lose her. Just like everything else. Much as he loved his brother he was jealous of what Ragnar had obtained, and took away from him. Lagertha, whom they both loved, and then Siggy died for his sons. Rollo, absentmindedly washed himself thinking of Siggy for a moment, the old pain ached for a moment, he couldn't begrudge Ragnar his sons, but he did miss Siggy.
Lost in thought Rollo turned to see her staring at him, the eyes soft and dark, Daralis. "So my Princess," grinning at her, "would you be willing to sing for the monsters later? That would calm them, then you would only have one to worry about." A low growl echoed humorously in his throat.
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This creature moved so strangely. He was human, surely, one of the Norse men but he did not move like a man. He moved like a serpent. My eyes widened slightly as he slithered his thinner form into the room and began to speak to you. Shifting my gaze to you, it was evident that I was concerned. I didn't know what to do; nor if this male could cause me any harm. I didn't know what the hierarchy in the system was - if you were a leader, or if you were a servant, like myself. If this snake was a superior, then perhaps I would be vulnerable to his every command. If only I understood the tough Norse language, than I would have a better notion of their relationship - but at this moment, at a time of uncertainty, I had only one thing to base my knowledge on: body language.
You didn't seem worried. Your glazed over eyes seemed more unimpressed than frightened, and that seemed to bring a sort of calm to my mind. I stayed close to your body, as if a baby pigeon sinking under its mother's wing. I had nothing to defend myself with but my wit, but with a man who spoke in Norse, I didn't even have that. I paled in comparison to your size, and even next to a thinner snake-man, I was still tiny. Still, I kept my back strong and my head high, not wanting to coward under his sneaky presence. My eyes tried not to look at him as he approached me, but they couldn't help but shift over to his slimy demeanor. As he grabbed a fistful of my hair, I whipped my head to the side, as if to hiss at him. I said nothing, but my reaction was clear in the sharp look in my eyes. Don't touch me.
In that moment, your grip tightened in my hand. I wasn't so much afraid now, as I was becoming feisty. Just as quickly as I was to snap my head, you reacted just as fast - smacking his arm away from my body. He retracted like a snake, too. This human I did not understand - I found your monstrous form of fighting intriguing, but the black-eyed drunk was distasteful and offensive. I was relieved when he departed. My grip loosened and I let go of your hand.
"Is it the ale that causes him to squirm, or does he always move so strangely?" Some may have deemed my tongue too rude, but I was consumed with both irritation and curiosity. I was utterly ignorant to the entire Norse culture, and if I wanted to survive, I had to understand.
I watched as you walked over to the bath, crossing my arms below my bosom - holding them in each hand. The blood scabbed on your body became diluted, and began to wash off of your thick skin. As you looked back towards me and complimented, my enthralled gaze was broken, and my eyes returned to yours. Your statement had awed me. How could a beast speak with such a sweet tongue? I reveled in its sweetness - having never been told something so beautiful.
My mouth opened to speak, but was speechless as my face reddened. Instead of speaking, I embraced your lips against mine; my folded arms falling from position. My fingers lightly grazed over your defined forearms as my lips separated from yours. I hummed lightly, smiling.
Interrupting your hands as they washed your body, I stole the cloth from your grip and smiled. I dipped the bloody cloth into the lukewarm tub and soaked it. The blood transferred to stain the clear water, but I didn't take note of it. Taking the cloth back in my hands, I twisted it tightly and wrung out the excess. Bringing my body extraordinarily close to yours, I began to wipe your body for you. I listened to your words, but stayed quiet as I dragged the cloth over your back, and down your spine. As you asked me to sing, I began to hum a soft lullaby. Gently moving the cloth back up to your shoulder, I pulled your arm back and gently turned you to face me. I continued to hum for you, smiling as my eyes fixated on the blood fading from your skin. Dragging the towel over your chest, I pulled it down the front of you. As I passed it over your chiseled abdomen, my eyes followed the cloth closely as it trailed down your stomach towards the edge of your trunks. Coming to wipe the last splatter of blood, I lightly pulled the cloth away from you right before hitting your pelvic region.
My eyes shifted to look at you as the lullaby ceased. "For you, anything."</s>
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It was late evening, a detachment of the Wu Empire army took camp near a mountainous range. The army set up tents and camp during their long march to meet the attack of their long-time enemy, the Shu Dynasty. However, the entire army was left unaware of the 6'7" tall man clothed in little more than a fur loincloth and possessing a very broad muscular build with long golden hair draping his scalp. The sound of a grumble from his stomach rolled out. His hand reached down feeling over his muscled stomach.
"How long have I been walking... how did I come here..." He said, his tone grumbling and low. Upon his back was sheathed a massive sword. Its body was that of a claymore but the blade was heavy and blunt, the hilt was crossed and the edges of the cross guard had axe-like heads, leaving the weapon deadly from slashing or bashing with the guard. The hulking man then caught a whiff of something; food was being cooked. He looked down the mountain slope seeing the camp below, where small men were running about. They looked like some army foot soldiers, their weapons crude and cheap.
The loud rumble in his stomach brought his attention. He was too hungry to think straight. So he began to draw his sword and rushed down the slope of the mountain side. Roaring out a battle cry, he charged towards their food. The giant of a man charging down the hill suddenly drew a stir from the watchmen. They shouted about some strange man charging at them. He used his blade to cut down one of the watchman and breeched the camp, charging straight for the food prepping units and assaulting anyone in his way. However, he took out a good few of them. A dart blower got him from behind, slowing him down. The feel of more darts being buried into his body. Still, he continued to fight, simply for a bite of food. He reached the food storage tent dragging himself that way. The darts and their toxin were starting to slow him down.
The camp finally united against him before he could reach the tent, standing in his way with spears aimed at him. One of the Wei officers stepped out from the tent and began to speak. "You... brute why are you attacking us... and where do you come from?" The officer spoke. The brute simply stared at the man and raised out his sword in an attempt to attack him. "Hungry..." He grumbled out but before he could finish swiping down his sword a hard thunk on the head caused him to crash forward. The man behind him was holding a ladle in hand and looked at the dropped brute. The young man was a kitchen staff member.
"He just started attacking... what is he..." The officer began to beckon men to bring rope and a cart so they could load the man up for imprisoning. "Have him delivered to the prison tent... Lady Zhenji will likely wish to know we caught a rather rowdy brute...." He then moved to where Lady Zhenji's tent was and calmly cleared his throat standing outside the tent. "Lady Zhenji, I know you must be tired but we have captured a rather rowdy guest, I would advise if you visit him you not do so alone." He didn't hear any movement inside and then pulled open the tent front and looked inside. "Lady Zhenji do wake up, it is not becoming for the commanding officer to be spending her day laying about her cot."
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"I heard you the first time," Zhenji growled angrily at the officer who intruded into her tent. She was dressed in a white gown and blue undergarments, her cleavage and bra revealed. She rubbed her eyes lazily, these lower ranked officers didn't understand the effort it takes to be a commander and how tired it makes someone. She sighed, "Let's go see this brute you've captured then, how dare you lot disturb my rest." She got up and casually took her chain whip from the table before following the officer to where the prisoner was held.
"Oh my, he is quite the big brute isn't he?" Zhenji smiled seeing his large muscular body, "And very interesting hair..." Her fingers stroked the man's blonde hair. "You lot can leave me here, I'll question him myself when he wakes up. Now go!" She commanded, she was going to have this big man all to herself. With his arms securely tied with rope, she wasn't afraid of him escaping. While the man was still unconscious, Zhenji took the liberty of exploring his body and tight muscles, her hands roaming around his chest and abs, loving the feeling of his hard muscles. "I'm going to have lots of fun with you when you wake up." She laughed. This day just got a whole lot better.</s>
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Rin Tohsaka frowned; she was sure she completed the ritual correctly yet no servant was summoned and no command spells were marked on her body. Worse yet, she found that she had been teleported to a strange and deep forest, the likes of which were rarely seen now in the modern world. Rin was very confused. She knew the teleportation could not have been her own. In all her years of studying and learning magic, she had never even come across magic that could teleport objects or people. Where am I? She wondered as she explored her surroundings carefully. Hello? Is anyone here? She shouted as she walked, wondering if this was part of the War or if she had made a terrible mistake in her summoning ritual.
Many of the more senior and powerful shinobi were all gathered in the Hokage Tower, including the Konoha 11. Ino stood among her teammates as the room was buzzing and everyone was discussing what was happening.
"Everyone quiet!" Tsunade's voice boomed across the room, and the noise died down as everyone turned their attention to the Hokage.
"Right, so something very strange has happened, and our world is right now host to something called the 'Holy Grail War'. I don't know what this really is, but seven people called 'Masters' from another world have been summoned here to compete in this 'War.' I've been told that the winner of the war gets any wish granted for them and those who aided them. Now some of the other villages are using this as an opportunity to invade and claim more lands. We as the village of the Land of Fire must also participate in order to defend ourselves. So the mission for all of you today is to go out and find a 'Master' for us to ally with. It should be easy to spot them as their chakras will stand out. Now go!"
As usual, Ino was assigned with her Team 10, and they headed out to try and find a Master. Even though the circumstances seemed weird, Ino tried to think of it as just like another regular mission.
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Sasuke Uchiha had been following the strangely dressed girl in the shadows for awhile. Sasuke had heard the news from one of his informants about the Holy Grail War and the Masters that were now among them. This girl he was tracking had an extremely unique chakra, plus with how she was dressed and her reactions, she had to be one of these Masters.
Sasuke decided to go out on a limb and cast a hand sign, activating his Sharingan. He then cast a potent genjutsu on her, one that would make her feel like she was in a dream-like state, making her horny and aroused while also making him appear very attractive when he appeared. For now, he waited to see how she would react.
Meanwhile, Shirou was wandering around the woods near Konoha, not knowing where he was. All he knew was he was in his house one moment and in some woods the next. Nothing seemed right, and on top of that, there was a strange brand on his hand. "What the heck is this..." he muttered aloud to himself as he let out a sigh. One thing was for sure though, his magical circuits seemed to be a lot more active and potent now. He could feel the mana flowing through him, but for now...he was just trying to figure out where he was.</s>
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"There goes the bat, once again after Mr. J," Harley grumbled, hanging upside from the ceiling in an abandoned warehouse tightly wrapped in a nylon rope. She had helped the ungrateful joker escape yet again, only to find herself tied up tightly by Batgirl.
"No good, I just can't get off... Wonder if she is into bondage to be so good with ropes? Well, guess I'll just have to wait for Mr. J to come back and rescue me. Hope he doesn't forget about me... again." But after a day and a couple of nights, it wasn't Mr. J who showed up but Riddler's henchmen. Of course they weren't there to rescue her; their plans demanded precision, and Harley was a nuisance. The buffoon bodysuit girl was immediately released and told to leave in a rather rude way.
Harley was so mad for being forgotten that she kicked the man and somersaulted out the window eager for revenge on Mr. J. He couldn't have been caught, not after she sacrificed for him to escape, and now he should be waiting for her to return like a lapdog... but not this time.
Leaving her like that had made the blonde's girl boil beyond limits, but just as she was about to leave the building, she turned back and saw the Riddler himself arriving. A sudden thought crossed her mind. What if she... Uhm Mr. J would never forgive her, but who cared about that clown right now? It was time to broaden her horizons.
Suddenly, the lights went out, and a curtain of gas invaded the insides of the building. Loud hits were heard together with shouts and moans, followed by silence. Then, a shadowy silhouette approached.
"You really should get better henchmen sweet," Harley's mocking voice echoed in the darkness as she swayed her way towards the Riddler, gun in hand. Dropping the pistol at his feet, she leaned on him. "You would be better with me instead of these goons, don't you think?" She took out a knife and played with it.
"What happens, darling? Bat got your tongue or don't you like clowns? Come on, loosen up a bit." Waving the knife around, she placed it in her neck. "Oh boy, you must have had a very unhappy childhood... but it is not a child what I'm looking for, but a Maaan."
Her knife moved to her own body, slowly stripping off her skintight top. "Is this better?" She asked provocatively while only wearing her skintight pants and mask.
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Another day, another dollar, to use the terms the plebeians were so fond of. The Riddler had only escaped custody relatively recently, but that last setback wasn't enough to make him want to slow down for a single second. Already he'd planned for his comeback, his next challenge that would truly stump the Bat, and all his little batlings to boot. All he needed were some resources to work with.
He'd arrived on the scene soon after most of his new goons, dressed in his usual sharp green jacket, purple shirt, tie and trousers, dark leather shoes moved quietly along the ground, while his gloved right hand clutched tight at his question mark-shaped golden cane. He was expecting another simple task, but ultimately Eddie was going to get something far greater.
What he certainly hadn't expected was the Joker's 'squeeze' (a term he used more ironically than anything else, because damn if that clown didn't realise what a fine piece of crazy candy he had on his arm) to come waltzing his way, having torn through his guys without a hint of issue. He watched her closely, tried not to make his worry obvious once she cut his tie open with only a modest amount of difficulty.
And then, much to his shock, she rather casually cut open the front of her skintight jester getup and unveiled her perky bosom to him.
"You certainly are an odd one, Quinn..." Sharp, hawklike eyes examined the area. No other clowns in the area, no obvious or hidden traps that his keen mind could pick up on. Which begged the question... why was Harley hitting on him? Riddler took a step forward, setting his staff against his car, and gave both of her breasts a firm squeeze. "But... I've never been one to disappoint a lady."
Even if that one was a bit hard to believe. He supposed he could take the time out to have some fun with the crazy broad. If nothing else it was better than trying to spurn her advances, cause lord knew how dangerous she could get then.</s>
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The quasi-sidekick known as Batgirl blinked heavy eyes as she tried to stare at the walls around her. Black edges hovered in her vision, blocking out a good portion of the room around her. Years of training under perhaps the strictest taskmaster alive had left Batgirl more than capable of taking in details with limited information. She could definitely see something on the walls around her, probably torture devices of some kind. She could just make out some possible lights hanging around, or maybe it was all dark? Okay, so that wasn't quite clear. She should stop focusing on things away from her and start trying to piece together the immediate.
She was still Batgirl. That sounded almost ludicrous, but when you had a secret identity there was always that possibility. Barbara Gordon and Batgirl were two distinct individuals. One was a high school student at Gotham Prep, learning right alongside a few other "Bat" wards. That one happened to be the daughter of the police commissioner, not to mention a straight "A" student, computer whiz, and halfway decent at martial arts. The girl's other identity just happened to be one that had earned the right to don the cowl and wear the symbol emblazoned on her chest. True, Batgirl's original outfits had looked decidedly amateur, with some stitches showing and a slightly crooked symbol on her teenage chest. But she'd gotten a lot better dressed since then, due in no small part to being officially indoctrinated into the Bat family.
Which also made her one hell of a target. Babs had lost count of the number of villains who figured that the girl would be the easiest to kidnap out of the Bat family. Most of them learned the hard way that it probably would've been better to go for Dick or Tim or safer yet, the Butler. But noooo, the villains had to go for the perky teenage girl sidekick. They did so love to tie her up. Batgirl couldn't remember how many times she'd had ropes looped around her breasts. Honestly, it wasn't like she was Power Girl or something. Heck, in Babs line of work, having smaller ones was actually more of a blessing. Okay, yeah, she still had perky teen boobs and, yeah, she wasn't flat: they were noticeable in the suit. But, again: Not Batwoman. Batgirl, and with perfectly modest breasts too. Of course, sometimes the villains would tie ropes around her tight little butt instead or test the limits of her flexibility.
This time, Batgirl didn't feel any ropes or anything on her immediate body. So she had that going for her. And again: still Batgirl. They'd left the cowl on her head and she seemed to be in her usual costume. Though she didn't quite remember some of the details of this particular outfit. There seemed to be some kind of zipper around the crotch area that she didn't remember being there before. Maybe that was a new addition that Alfred had added as a joke or something? Or maybe Dick had messed with it? He was known to be the humorous one of their family. It was weird, because Babs couldn't tell if she had her usual underclothing on either. Nobody wore nothing under their tights. Hell, Wayne Enterprises had pretty well started an entire line of underclothes just for superheroes. Babs often preferred the tight boy-shorts herself, and she thought she could feel them but she wasn't sure.
So someone probably stripped me, quite possibly put me into an alternate version of my costume, drugged me, which actually came first now that I think about it, aaaand, yep, Batgirl's hand went to her throat, the gloved fingers feeling around,I have a collar around my neck. Seriously, a collar? At least there's no bell this time. Feels really thick so... probably explosives. Wonderful.
Batgirl moved, realizing that she'd been laying on some sort of bed? She winced, not wanting to think about that. Her red hair fell around her shoulders as she rose up, and she could still feel a bit of her cape falling about her. It didn't feel quite as long as it should be; no surprise there. In fact, this outfit actually felt about a size or two too small, like someone had found the one she'd started in and squeezed her into it. The colors felt slightly off too, but that could just be the lights.
Batgirl knew she needed to figure out where she was and who put her here. She remembered being on patrol, something about a call that required her attention. Was it at the new LexCorp building? It felt like it was. But maybe Batgirl was just projecting or something. All the capes knew that something was up with Lex Luthor but it wasn't like anyone could actually prove anything. She started walking in the room, feeling more steady than she'd figured. What was the game here? And, more importantly, how could she get out before one of the Bat family followed a tracer and tried to "save" her...
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Alexander "Lex" Luthor hated Superman with an intensity that seemed all consuming at times. The hatred had become an obsession; no longer was it about killing the so-called Man of Steel, it was about hurting and humiliating him. Of course over time, that hatred had expanded. Now, he hated all costumed heroes.
It wasn't just because they often got in the way of his actions against Superman, but also because they had taken their inspiration from the Kryptonian hero. They were now a part of the problem, working their way into his head and becoming another distraction that kept him from helping mankind. And like Superman, it wouldn't be enough to kill them all; that would only inspire more. Instead, Lex needed to break them, humiliate them, bring them low so that even the average person would look down upon them... And without their shadow to obscure his own brilliance, Alex knew that he would be seen as the rightful hero and savior that mankind needed and craved.
He had plans, of course, with partial successes and varying degrees of defeat, but he learned from each one and had countless more just waiting to be tried. Lex was patient, brilliant, and richer than nearly anyone else in the world. He would find the answer he needed.
A new idea had occurred to him recently, touring a subsidiary of Lexcorp he had been shown some promising new developments when it came to improving mental health. One in particular stood out, a device that would make a person's pleasurable and enjoyable experience more intense as a way to fight short term depression. The fools didn't know what they had though and so he had fired them all, reminded them of the confidentiality contracts they had signed, and confiscated every prototype and note they had on the project before burying the entire program behind so much red tape and data that it would be near impossible for someone to track down.
It had been inspirational too him, a way to humiliate all the so-called hero types by striking out at relatively few of them. With a few tweaks to the technology he had been able to make the pleasures it provided almost addictive while it would slowly rewire a person's brain until the effect would continue without the tech. Next had come testing, local prostitutes had worked well and because of his own tastes Alex worked the technology into a heavy collar... BDSM being a favorite little indulgence of his.
It had worked like a charm, just as he suspected and that meant all he needed was his first subject. As enjoyable as it would be to start with Wonder Woman or Powergirl he knew that it was too risky to start with a super-powered subject, patience would pay out.
Using the same technology that Batman worked into his police scanning equipment Luthor had found a way to send a single untraceable call for help right to any member of the Batcrew. Batgirl had been his target of course and after luring her to his new Gotham tower he had Mercy ambush and drug the girl.
From there it had been simple enough to strip her, making sure to photograph her face and get fingerprints, and then dress her into a latex fetish costume that resembled her own.
Then, waiting for about ten minutes, the time he had calculated it would take for her to wake up, Lex entered the room, dressed in his very best of course. "Batgirl, so lovely to have you join me tonight." He greeted her, a sneer marring his features slightly.</s>
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Sakura Haruno let out a growl of annoyance as she struggled to hook the straps behind her back together. Ever since her bust had fully developed - and rather unexpectedly, to boot - she always had trouble putting her bras on. There was the subtle but satisfying feeling of the fabric linking together, and her breasts were contained at last. Cha!
No time for celebrating small victories, however, as she had to hurry up and finish getting dressed! Lady Tsunade had requested her presence today, and that - more likely than not - meant that the Hokage would be assigning her to a mission. And Sakura couldn't help but feel a tad of excitement, as she slipped the black gloves onto her hands. It had been a while since she had ventured out of the Hidden Leaf Village. Red top came next, followed by skirt, socks, and boots. And a mission, no matter how boring its objective, would be a welcome change of pace.
She finished up by adjusting her forehead protector against her forehead, a few tufts of her pink hair popping in front of it which she quickly smoothed down. Looking towards the mirror, she gave herself a small smile. Ready to go! With that, she headed out of her apartment and towards the Academy, where Lady Tsunade's office resided.
"Um, h-hello, Sakura-chan..."
Sakura slowed her walking at the familiar sounding voice, turning her head to the side. Walking beside her was Hinata Hyuga, her head downtrodden and a few strands of dark blue hair brushing against her face. She was dressed in her usual purple-and-ivory jacket and jeans, which were less than capable of hiding the generous womanly curves that she had acquired with time. Sakura had never really interacted that much with the shy member of Team 8, admittedly, but she thought that she was a kind, sweet girl who was more than capable of defending herself and others if necessary. If only the same could be said about her attempts at gaining Naruto's affections...
"Hmm? Hello, Hinata," Sakura said with a smile, which caused the blue-haired girl to blush for a moment. However, she slowly looked up to meet the medical-nin's gaze with her milky white eyes (a result of her possession of the Byakugan), returning the expression - if a bit reluctantly. "Going to see Tsunade-Sama?" Hinata asked, keeping pace with the cherry-blossom haired girl. "She wanted to speak with me as well..." she added softly.
That got an eyebrow raise out of Sakura. Lady Tsunade had requested both her and Hinata to meet with her? Were they going to be assigned to the same mission, or was this simply a coincidence? "Well, I guess since we both seem to be heading to the same place, would you mind walking with me?" Sakura offered, that smile returning to her face. "Um, sure," the chunin murmured, her cheeks tinting once again.
And so they resumed their walk towards Tsunade's office in earnest, with Sakura leading the charge and Hinata quietly following along, at a bit of a slower pace...
If Lady Tsunade was indeed going to assign them to the same mission, Sakura thought, it could certainly be interesting...
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Tsunade Senju had been watching out of the large window at the back of her office. Adjusting her top a few times as her massive breasts bounced around on her. "I think they got bigger again," she said, turning to her assistant, Shizune. "What do you think?"
Shizune gave her a scolding look. "Lady Tsunade! This is not the time to be worrying about that. The shinobi will be here any minute to receive their mission!" She scolded the Hokage before Tsunade pouted out her lip and simply sat down at her desk. Watching the door till the sound of a knock could be heard at the door. "Enter." She said, and if Sakura and Hinata had arrived on time, they would have bare witness to the large two stall doors opening up for them. The Hokage looked to them, and flashed a smile.
"So, I see you two managed to get out of bed okay on this lovely sunny day," she said, "I bet it wasn't easy, oh and Sakura... you look like you've had some growing this morning." She flashed a smile to her before Shizune gave her a scolding look.
Clearing her throat, Tsunade holds out the mission scroll. "Here, you three have been assigned to guard a small town in the Land of Valleys while the workers tunnel through a mountain side to open a trade route. The city has been plagued with bandit raids and a few bits of a rather nasty sickness here and there, so I want the three of you to take care of it."
With that declaration, Shuri made her way in, the girl had long black hair, and smooth pale white skin, and carried herself elegantly, dressed in a short Kimono bound at the waist by a rather large red rope. Her pale green eyes drifted about the room, looking at her would-be companions on her first mission since arriving in the Leaf Village. "Hello, I am Shuri Ramino, heiress to the Ramino family," she said with a bow. "Pleasure to meet the two of you, and your pairs of lovely fun bags." Yes, Shuri just said 'fun bags' in a way a dirty old man might have, but the look Shizune shot her didn't affect her any.
"Now then, Lady Tsunade, you may continue to explain the mission if you so desire." The girl had an obvious attitude, a sort of snarkiness to her, she was shrewd and rude it seemed.</s>
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Blackwood Mountains, there was no doubt in Sam's mind that this place would haunt every nightmare. A tragedy she desperately tried to prevent. The man she'd come to coven loosing both his sisters on a dark night similar to the one they were experiencing tonight. Not only that, but the blizzard was strangely eerie because it was reminiscent of the same one that had taken hand in spiriting away Beth and Hannah. Sitting by the side of the worldpool tub, clearly installed into the mansion-esk lodge as a comfort to up the sale price. Sam leaned over the tub and admired the shiny white procaline. Going to grasp the handle of what she'd hope to be hot water, the voice of the same man she'd been thinking about constantly on the hike up to the lodge. Voice echoing throughout the moonlit house. The nickname he'd playfully bestowed unto her rang through the air. Music to the young blonde's ears. There was always this anticipation that built up and hit like a overwhelming blindsiding tsuname the second she heard her name roll off his lips.
"Whaaaaa?" Sammy, that's what he called her. She remembered when they first met, how he'd tried countless times to give her a nickname that would stick...then...Sammy. It sounded right when he said it, nobody else, she didn't feel comfortable with anybody else calling her Sammy.
"You wanna help me get this fire going?" Last time she'd drank in the sight of him was when he was huddled under the fireplace, fiddling with the gas.
"Uuuuh...well...I was just...getting into the bath." She didn't think much of her answer, she was just being honest. However, when he came back with a cute little 'oh'...and then a pause...she couldn't help but blush lightly, peering out the bathroom door in the direction of his voice. "Well do you need any help with that?" Being a smartass wasn't something unusual for him, but what Sam said next would probably throw him off his pacing. Teasingly she chuckled under her breath, grinning lightly as she responded proudly with.
"I'd say yes, but...there's no hot water and I don't think either of us nor anyone else in the house wants to be shoulder deep in ice water." Checking the water, aaaaand...the prediction was correct as she settled down on the marbel surrounding the tub only for feel the bonechilling water that was as cold as a river in December...drench the young 20 year old's right hand. Turing off the water with a sigh and walked out of the bathroom, thinking about roaming around and wondering if she'd finally silenced Josh with that little suggestive comment.
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Josh was in the middle of trying to settle the last pieces of his revenge plan when Sam called out to him. He wasn't sure what it was about her, but whenever he was around her...he felt calm and at ease. All the voices left him, all that he could hear was her, and it was comforting. He was wondering if there was some way he could exclude Sam from all this he had planned or not.
When he teased her, he expected her to call his bullshit...but her response actually surprised him. Did she really have feelings for him? Or was she just messing with him, like they had done with his sisters...he wanted to know. His eyes locked on Sam's figure when she walked out of the bathroom and he gave her his trademarked grin.
"We need to turn the furnace on in the basement to get the hot water going," Josh said, offering her his arm. "Tell you what....you come with me to turn it on, and then, maybe, I'll consider your invitation to join you in the tub." He winked playfully at her, acting like her comment wasn't a big deal, but inside, his heart was pounding.</s>
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Gotham
A city in only description, but not in identity. Most people would call it a hell, a ses-pit, a breeding ground for crime, while others were forced to call it home. The occupants only considered it one thing, a home. There were though, two gleams of light in the shadows of the city. Well technically one, but very few new or understood the implication of that knowledge. Those two lights were Bruce Wayne and the knight in the shadows, Batman. A man who worked in the light of the cameras and sun to better the city for the average citizen, while the other worked in the shadows to protect the weak.
A recent development had plagued the city of Gotham for many years, but now it had lifted like the early morning fog in the afternoon. The Joker, a madman bent on tormenting and amusing himself with the antics he thought of on a weekly basis against the Batman. To torture, to hear the citizens scream, and most of all to enjoy his psychopathic games of madness with his best friend in the world, the Batman.
This clown of crime had suddenly disappeared from gotham leaving a distraught and confused Harley Quinn, the joker to the Jokers King.
It had been recently that Harley had been found and apprehended by police. Was she terrifying people? Arming bombs? Letting loose her hyenas on citizens?....no. She was drunkly spray painting the words, "Where are you sugar?" across the statues guarding the Library of Gotham Congress.
"What am I going to do with you Harley?" Gordon asked with a deep sigh. Looking across his desk at the chained up girl.
Gordon was the head of the Gotham police force, though most of their job was cleaning up after Batman's antics.
His mustache twitched as he took a sip from his white mug, long since turned muddy with use.
"You weren't always like this, you know."
I yank roughly on the handcuffs shackling me to the chair, glaring angrily towards Gordon. The metal digs into my wrists, peeling a layer of skin from me as I struggle. The pain transports me to another time - another place.
I imagine being locked up, cuffed to a wheelchair which Puddin' had retrofitted with rollercoaster wheels. It was incredible, I tell you... Like something straight out of the mind of a genius. I remember the clickity clack of the chain pulling me up the hill, the rush of looking onwards towards the unfinished rollercoaster. The thrill of dropping down the hill, riding through the loop, flying upwards....off the rails....and into a wonderfully deadly slumber dedicated to my Mr. J....
"Oooh....Mr J....where are you pudding...." I sigh, the illusion fading as I return back to the present. I'm sure to Gordon, I must seem delusional - or worse. I don't care though. No, there's only one man I care about what he thinks....and he's gone! GONE! Gone without a trace...a phone call....or even a booby trap. I don't have the faintest on where he could possibly have gone.
The air atop the police station was bitter cold. Gordon's hair and tan trench coat blowing with the wind. The steam from his foam cup dissipating against the roar of the wind, the smoke only slightly illuminated by the light of the bat signal.
"I...hhh...hate winter", he muttered, as he reached into his pocket for a lighter.
"Thought you quite" replied a voice from the shadows.
An almost inaudible click, then the signal illuminating the sky disappeared, once again shrouding the roof in darkness.
Gordon shrugged, his hand returning from his pocket empty. "I'm trying, but old habits die hard", looking up at the shadow. "You should know that better than most!"
Apparently that reply didn't warrant an answer, as an awkward silence passed between the two. It was Gordon shivering from the cold who decided to break that silence.
"You took longer than usual" his almost frozen mustache twitching in irritation. "Get stuck in traffic?"
The form the comment was meant for silently shifted into view. Tall, dark, with a willowing cape and an attitude for action, even violence.
"I've got a new....complication....its...taking more of my time" he growled in reply.
"Make that two" Gordon wordlessly replied with a sigh. "I've got that favor from you to turn in"
The glare could be seen from the shadows even with in the dim light.
"I want you to take Harley Quinn in. I think you might be able to fix her, since the Joker is no longer in the picture."
*meanwhile, back downstairs*
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Harley was lost in one of her fantasies again, thinking about when she first met her Mistah J, how scared she had been of him. Now she knew who he really was, she prided on being the only one that did. Her puddin' meant the world to her and his happiness was all that really mattered to her. She could remember him flirting with her, telling her he understood her pain, understood how it felt to be cast out. She'd fallen for her puddin' quickly. She talked aloud now, as if he were here. Tears rolled down her pretty cheeks, the white clown paint mingling and leaving white puddles on the floor.
"Mistah J why'd you leave me? I know you'll be back for me," she murmured before bursting into hysterical laughter. "It's a test right Mistah J? You want to see how much trouble I can cause?" She pulled against the handcuffs and screamed out in anger and frustration. She kicked over the table in front of her and laughed as the papers came down around her. "OH JIM!" she shouted before laughing her head off.
Outside the room, other officers just shook their heads. "Why doesn't he just send the crazy bitch to Arkham again?" one of them asked as she continued to laugh and talk to herself.</s>
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The bright star hung in the sky like a shining beacon, an ominous omen that struck hard like a dagger right into Daenerys Targaryeneach's heart each time she looked up at it. It seemed unnatural as its light competed with the silvery rays of the moon...one night just appearing as if divine forces decided it was meant to be there, meant to be a part of nature, circling the sky and providing its light. A shiver ran down her spine and her body shuddered. She glanced over her shoulder, her violet eyes taking in Daario, his body seemingly worn. He'd been acting strange ever since the star had arrived.
All the men had.
It hadn't set well.
Dany walked over to the balcony overlooking Meereen. The city had gone quiet. Ironic that not just a few weeks ago, this stillness would have filled her heart with joy, with peace. But now it filled her heart with dread, with fear. Just then, there was a light tap on the door. Dany turned her head toward the soft sound. She smiled at Daario before speaking out loud.
"Please enter," Dany said, turning to face Daario. She was almost certain that Missandei would be on the other side of the heavy wooden door. But no matter, the city had gone quiet, still, that unnatural light bringing a strange calm over Meereen and its people.
"Khaleesi,"Missandeibegan, her dark eyes averted. Dany reached out and gently brushed her confidante's arm. She knew her friend was still adjusting to her newfound freedom. The Astaporian beauty smiled then and turned her eyes toward Dany. "The Unsullied, Khaleesi." Her face was worried. "The illness is spreading."
Dany's eyes widened and she turned toward Daario. They needed to form small council. Things were going from bad to worse. Rumors had already been spreading that several had been reported ill within the city. Within days, some of her Unsullied had also reported to have contracted a strange illness. There didn't seem to be an underlying cause and it was spreading too rapidly. Action needed to be taken.
"How badly?" Dany asked.
Missandei paused, her eyes moving from Dany to Daario. "All," she said softly.
Dany looked to Daario, her steps fast as she headed toward the door. "We meet with Jorah, Tyrion and Varys," she said plainly. "This must be stopped."
Missandei watched Dany, worry etched on her face. She was terrified. So many were falling ill, unable to function as fever gripped their bodies. But she noticed one odd thing...the only ones who were falling ill were men.
The room was dark and for days Tommen had not been himself. Already chaos was clawing its way through Kings Landing, tearing the entire city apart. Cersei was furious that her youngest brother had disappeared and no one knew the whereabouts of the Master of Whispers. Things were only getting worse, the paranoia of the entire Lannister family growing and then that strange star suddenly appeared. Holy men tried to fear monger the good people of Westeros, but she knew they were merely using it as an opportunity to seize control over the weak minds of the people.
Oh my poor Tommen! Burning up with fever while the entire city fell into ruin! Margaery had to hide his malady, pretend that everything was as it should be. It would be difficult fooling his bitch mother. The woman had eyes everywhere and her overprotective nature for her children bordered on frightening. She had to admit the cunt was cunning, but she wouldn't let her interfere so long as she was queen, so long as there was breath in Tommen's body.
Margaery's bare body stooped over Tommen as he lay back on their plush bed, her cunt gripping his hardened cock deep within her wet folds. She leaned forward, her hands clutching his shoulders as she bit down on her lower lip and stifled the groan that rumbled in her throat. Up and down...up and down, her body slid along his shaft, slippery and slick. The wet slurping sounds of flesh on flesh echoed against the stone walls.
"Tommen...Tommen..." Margaery panted, her hips moving faster. If only he'd move! Those damned fevers! Fever squeezed at her heart like a vice. This just wasn't the Tommen the Kings knew.
Sansa stared out her tiny window at the unnatural star. When had it arrived? She couldn't remember. Perhaps it had been a week, maybe two, ago when it had decided to shine down upon the lands. She heard the door open behind her and knew who it was that was checking in on her. Only one man repeatedly came to her side Petyr Baelish.
"Lord Baelish," Sansa said without turning around, her eyes still fixed upon the star. "Have you come to check on me as always?" she asked. "You'll find I'm still safely hidden from Lannister eyes." Letting out a soft sigh, she turned around, a hand moving to twist a stray lock of red. She hated her solitary life...always running, always hiding. She'd forgotten what it was like to be happy. "Hidden from all eyes," she added, her tone laced with bite. "I trust you've fared well." Feeling bitter, her gaze turned cold before it softened, her eyes finally averting and fixing upon the floor. "I...I'm sorry. I should not have said that."
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The bright star hovering in the atmosphere of the world of Westeros and Essos was the capital ship of the Amanto. They were a conglomeration of different alien races that had been exiled from the Alliance of Free Races that ruled most of the known galaxy. The Amanto were the races that refused to bow to the more liberal laws of the new government. They believed they had the right to enslave and own who they pleased, to commit crimes and peddle illegal drugs. Now, they were on their own, but they planned to colonize the unexplored parts of the galaxy, and that is how their mothership ended up above Westeros, ahead of the main fleet. They were emitting a powerful virus, meant to wipe out all life on the planet so they could colonize it, but for some reason, it wasn't working.
Jabba the Hutt, the head of the Amanto and previous crime lord gazed down on the world, anger clear in his feline eyes. His slug body on the bridge of the ship, his snake-like tongue hanging from his gaping mouth and dripping drool onto his slimy fat rolls. He bellowed out an order and a half human, half wolf creature emerged from behind a door. His grey fur shimmered slightly in the light as the wolf was given his orders, to go down to the planet and figure out what was going on. He was put into an escape pod and shot down to the planet, and would appear like a shooting star.
Darrio looked towards Dany with a forced smile. He was feeling the strain of whatever sickness was infecting his body. It was a struggle just to remain standing, but he bore it all for his Queen. "My Queen....might I have some time with you on my own?" He asked her with a small chuckle.
He needed to be alone with her, he wasn't sure how much longer he was doing to be alive, he could feel his body fading...he wanted to spend his last hours with her, in peace and with as much passion for the beautiful woman as he could muster.
"I know you are busy...but could we meet in your room?" He asked her before giving her a small bow and walking away towards her room.
Jorah was feeling slightly better than Darrio, but the fever still racked his body. He managed to meet with Missandei before he saw Dany. "Ah, my Lady...how are you doing today? Is the Queen doing alright?" He asked her, his voice breathless as he forced a smile, hoping she wouldn't see how much he was suffering from the unknown illness.
Little did Margaery know, but Tommen had already passed on, the only thing keeping his cock hard was the virus in his system. Now, it began to change him. Already, his skin was starting to rot faster than it should have. His eyes fluttered open, they seemed to be glowing yellow.
He growled, he sounded like a beast. He wrapped his arms around her waists and his hands gave her firm rear a hard spank. His slowly rotting hand groping at her rear. He began to move his hips, his massive cock slamming deep into her, pushing past her cervix and into her womb as he let out a growl and a moan. His lips moved up to her own, his tongue lashing against her lips, pushing their way into her mouth as he plowed her like a bitch in heat.
Baelish had seen what was going on to the world, and he knew what needed to be done. He had put the Eyrie on lockdown and executed anyone with symptoms. He was heartless, but he would do what he needed to do, to protect himself, and Sansa.
He looked to the girl and gently stroked her cheek, letting out a heavy sigh. "Just be thankful, Sansa...thankful you don't have to see what is going on with the world right now." His voice was heavy and distraught, he had killed so many...he wasn't sure how they would get by now, but he would do whatever it took...
He slowly leaned forward and gently kissed her forehead. "We can never leave the Eyrie, Sansa...the world, is dying. We might be able to survive if we stay here." He explained to her, needing her to understand just how far the world had fallen.</s>
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There were only short, very brief moments of consciousness. Every waking second filled with nothing but immense burning pain. Mr. Sinister knew the dangers of taking in a mutant as powerful as Rouge, and had made the necessary precautions in order to contain her. It wasn't complex, the plan actually very simple, keep her sedated and on round-the-clock observation. Any flinch, twitch or uneven breath was taken into account, as if she were to completely snap out of her drug-induced coma... there would be a few new holes in the genius mutant's lab.
There was no possible way he could resist the allure of the southern belle's abilities though. Deadly, powerful... limitless potential, and all obtained with a single touch. Numerous injections had been given, all of which needing to be applied with a powerful claw-like arm and enhanced needle to compensate for her heightened durability. Sticking a syringe into someone who could resist the impact of a bullet proved difficult, but certainly not impossible. They had managed to get an IV in her, coursing the sedatives through her system, and that had been a bit of a chore.
The hospital gown hung loosely from her frame, obviously put on in a rush. Nobody wanted to risk exposure to her skin for a prolonged period. This of course meant it looked like a blind one-armed monkey had put it on. The laces along the back tied off in the wrong positions, the collar sideways and causing the cheap cardboard-like fabric to pull awkwardly off in the wrong direction and bunch up along her left flank. Had she been awake long enough to notice... she wouldn't have been too pleased about it.
Mmmph.
The groan was soft, eyes opening slowly and revealing the emerald irises beneath. The pounding in her skull was intense, set to the rhythm of her heartbeat. Everything was blurry, sounds came in as though she were underwater, distant and subdued. The glass tube she had been locked inside was tilted upward, numerous harnesses holding her in place and keeping her secure. Son of a..
It was no sooner the words were spoken that she noticed something wasn't quite right. Everything below the neck down was numb, despite her desperate efforts to move her arms or legs, absolutely nothing happened. Ah, look who has decided to join us.
The southern belle furrowed her brow as she took in the sight of the other man that had been captured. Something about him seemed familiar... but she was unable to place it in her memory.
Deadpool was only known through reputation as far as she went, and of course the files that were kept on him beneath the school. A few of her teammates had made it clear that they were not a fan, but when one of them was Logan it was hard to tell if it could be taken with more than a grain of salt...as there were a lot of people he didn't care for in this world. It was only after she accepted that he was an unknown that her gaze pulled back to Nathaniel Essex. The two of them shared a not so pleasant history, a lot of it steeped in some bad decisions that a rather charismatic Cajun had made.
I wanted you to be awake for this, as I think you will find it...quite intriguing. Bending down, he moved to release the seal on her container. The pressure released and hissed out into the room. Rogue was still trying to move, free herself somehow, but it was all for naught. The only thing she could do was glare, and if looks could kill.
As soon as the lid was lifted, a young man was waved over. He couldn't have been more than 25. Ruffled blonde hair, thick glasses, and a tall wiry frame - he looked to be incredibly nervous. "Go on, Henry," Sinister said. "We need to see if we have made any progress."
The kid stammered, looking from Mr. Sinister over to the southern belle and back. It was obvious he wanted to protest, but was too terrified to actually do it. Instead, he took a deep gulp, the sound audible in the relatively quiet underground lab, and raised his hand up and outstretched his arm. "N-no...don't..."
Rogue could see where his hand was going, fingertips headed for the bare skin beneath the sleeve of her hospital gown. All she could do was flinch, close her eyes, and prepare for the horrible sensation that overwhelmed her whenever someone touched her. The memories, the emotions...it was never a walk in the park. Although it was probably worse to be on the other end of it. Due to the paralytic she couldn't actually sense the contact, but it had happened. Fingertips pressed down, followed by his palm, and nothing...no pain. Mr. Sinister could only smile in amusement.
A few moments passed before Rogue hesitantly opened her eyes, Sage and Warpath looking on in silent shock at what they were seeing. Neither of them were keen on saying anything anyway, afraid to pull any attention as it had lead to nothing but excruciating pain when they had.
What did you do?
There was anger, confusion, and a hint of excitement behind that southern voice. Eyes wide and searching for some kind of answer on either of the men's faces. Of course Mr. Sinister was pleased, but it wasn't a breakthrough for his research. Suppressing her mutant gene had been done before, but it was at least a step in the right direction.
Very good. Secure her and make sure those paralytics don't wear off. I think we've done enough work for today.
Just like that he brushed her off, not offering her anything but a sidelong glance of amusement. Oh, she wanted to hit him. Send him flying across the room and pound on him until she grew too exhausted to beat on him anymore. Still, her body wouldn't move, only having control of her head and neck. That certainly wasn't enough to bust her loose. With that the lab started to empty, small mumblings from the workers about the day's work, machines shutting down while others sputtered to life. There were cameras everywhere though, so just because the room was empty, didn't mean they were alone in the slightest.
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Why do you do this to me? Seriously, look at her... and you know what goes on here at Bluemoon. But Hotdogs aren't supposed to go there. Wade awoke with a yawn, it wasn't beneath him to wake up in weird and at times compromising places or positions. The sealed tube wasn't exactly new and the hospital gown brought back a swell of emotions that were quickly quelled beneath a tirade of self-deprecating sarcasm: "That is the last time I let you take me out." His words were directed at no one in particular. Fuck you.
His amplified healing factor was making short work of the sedative cocktail that coursed through his veins, several saline IVs were attached to his arms and legs along with a dialysis machine that seemed to be replacing his blood with additional tranquilizing additives. "My whole body is like The Stranger." The dialysis machine was taxed to its limit as his body continually pumped out a steady stream of blood to replace what was being taken out. Given the nature of Wade's abilities, tranquilizing him with the lethal equivalent of what's given to those being executed was the only way to keep him here along with the additional restraints that bound him in place.
A breeze chilled him and Wade shivered beneath the hospital gown: "Oh, it's like The Dead Stranger." A sigh escapes through keloid-scarred lips as he fights against the restraints, moving enough to see the others also bound to his same fate. "Oh hey." In many ways he was happy to see that he wasn't the only one here, it meant he could talk to someone who wasn't himself. Wade tilts his head to the side, using a few reflective surfaces to his advantage, it reminded him of the time he spent an entire hour trying to see a breast through the static of Pay Per View, which he admitted to himself was probably last week. It was a good boob.
"So uh hey." His words directed at Rogue or really the round distorted reversed image of her rear: "Come here often?" That's not going to work... You miss all the chances you never take, bro.</s>
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Kushina was up earlier than usual. And for her, that was pretty early. She was up long before the sun would rise. Her reason? The small plastic stick resting on the counter beside where she stood, wearing nothing but her pajamas, which was a short-sleeved blue silk top that ended midway down her thighs. Her feet were bare against the cold tiled floor, toes curling in anticipation as she stared at the small object on the counter. It was small, indeed, but it was a very powerful thing. It had been on Kushina's mind the past few days, putting the normally fearless woman on edge. Even now, as she stared at the little thing, her heart was pounding heavily in her chest and her stomach was twisting with anxiety.
Now, you may be wondering what could put the brave Red Hot-Blooded Habanero in such a state of disarray. Well, it was a pregnancy test.
She had been feeling weird the past few days, and after discussing it with Mikoto Uchiha, it was suggested that she may be pregnant. Which came as a total shock to Kushina. She couldn't have a kid! Not right now! There was simply too much going on, what with the news of this mysterious figure going around trying to kill off the tailed beasts. Besides, she just wasn't ready to be a mother. She didn't know if she would ever be ready for such a role.
At the same time, though, what if she were pregnant? Minato would be such a wonderful dad, that much she knew already. But he had never really talked about starting a family. It was a discussion they were too busy to have. Still, if she were pregnant, what would they do?
Sighing under her breath, Kushina pinched her eyes closed and took a shaky breath to try and prepare herself for the results. As she did this, she reached over and grabbed the test, figuring it would be ready by now. The question was, was she ready for the results? The answer was no, but she had to face it anyways. So, mustering all the courage she could manage, she peeked open and glanced down at the test, only to let out the biggest sigh of her life.
It was negative.
Thank Kami! She groaned out loud, relief calming her edgy nerves and causing her to slouch forward in a dramatic fashion. No babies today! Hah!
Happily, she dropped the test into the trash near the toilet and turned to leave the bathroom, a refreshed glow about her as if the weight of the world had just been taken from her shoulders. There was a spring to her step, her deep blue eyes sparkling happily as she stepped into the bedroom and smiled giddily at the sight of Minato beneath the covers. She was usually reluctant to wake him. As the Hokage, he didn't get a lot of rest. They needed to head out in a few hours though, and there was no way she could get back to sleep, so
Rise and shine~! Playfully, Kushina crawled into bed with the man, smiling as she laid atop the covers and squirmed up against his frame in an attempt to wake him. Assuming he wasn't already awake.
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*bump*
That was the first thing he felt, not aware what it was he slowly began to crack open his eyes. 'Rise and shine~' called the familiar voice as his eyes opened catching the pale face of his wife, her long, seriously long, red hair draping around her face as she dropped down next to him and began snuggling, wriggling next to him as he shook his head in an attempt to calibrate himself and awaken properly. "What're you..." he began asking before deciding against finishing the sentence. He loosened up, he's gotten a little bit stiff from her waking him so suddenly, he relaxed back down in the pillow as he lifted both his arms out from under the covers. One hand slipped behind his own head, the mess of yellow hair that sat comfortably atop his head, the second draped around Kushina's shoulders as he held her to his naked torso. He slept, for the most part, naked. No shirt to cover his reasonably toned upper body, and only a pair of shorts to cover his crotch. They where closer to a pair of briefs than they where to an actual pair of shorts.
He groan slightly, holding her against him for a brief moment before reaching over to the bedside table. It was dark still, no sunlight cracking through the window. He pulled the alarm clock over to himself and pressed a button, the light that backlit the clock lit up. 6:00am? "6:00am?!" he questioned putting the clock down before looking to Kushina who was nuzzling, squirming and hugging against him. "Why Kushina." he said in an exasperated tone that sounded like 'You betrayed me!' He removed his arm from her and grabbed onto the covers, pulling them with a strong tug as he rolled over onto his side, holding the whole of the bed covers in his hands leaving her to lay without any on her side of the bed his back to her. He couldn't help but grin at their playful interaction, it may be 6:00am, she may be the devil himself for waking him up this early, but he still loved her. "I'm going back to sleep." he mumbled into the covers that he hogged in front of himself. He knew she'd have no such thing, and she'd win, she always won, but he wouldn't give in to her easily, not without a fight.</s>
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Meila kept tapping her foot over and over again on the floor of her bedroom, her mind thinking over the argument she had just had with her now ex-boyfriend. She slammed her hand down on her dresser before taking a few deep breaths to calm herself down. "Alright... that does it," she growled as she made her way down the stairs of the Torchwood hub. "Jack, what the hell were you thinking? Drugging my boyfriend just because you're jealous of him?" she asked, shoving a finger into his chest, making sure it hurt him a bit, to make a point.
Meila looked like some 18 year old school girl, but in reality she was a 600-year-old Time Lord, though she had kept this truth hidden from Jack until recently. It was more Ianto who had brought it to their boss's attention, which only made Jack even more protective of her. Meila had light blonde hair, dark brown eyes, pale skin. Her body was an athletic build, with small breasts and a tight ass. She stood at 5'4" and weighed 120 lbs, all muscle. One thing that made her so attractive to most men was her temper and how cute she looked when she was angry.
"I should send your ass back to your room and tie you up again," she growled before shaking her head. "Thanks to you, he broke up with me." she hissed then spun around and made her way to her desk where she slipped into her chair. She pulled her headphones on over her ears and began typing away at a report, trying to ignore him now. Biting her lip, Meila ran her fingers through her hair and gritted her teeth tightly. "You really know how to get on my nerves, and you should be proud of it either." she went on saying.
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Jack loved it when Meila was angry, the way her brow furrowed and she got these little dimples in her cheeks that made her look even younger. He imagined sex with her when she was angry would be quite an event. But then she might try to kill him so, you know, swings and roundabouts. It was true, he had been jealous of her boyfriend, but then her boyfriend had also been a dick and not someone he wanted anywhere near Torchwood. He couldn't help but feel a frisson of excitement at the thought of Meila tying him up again, but he quickly shook the image away and strode over to her.
"You might want to remember who's in charge around here," Jack said, trying to sound authoritative. "We don't need dead wood like...him hanging around causing distractions." He paused for emphasis, but he wasn't even sure she was listening to him. He tried to soften his tone a little. "Look we're getting some strange anomalous readings coming through the rift. Temporal waves. I'm not sure what they mean, so if you could apply your massive intellect to that I'd be most grateful." Too patronising? He thought maybe yes, but what the hell.
Jack spun on his heel and marched away to his office, just as Ianto's boyish face appeared at the top of the stairs.
"Don't let him get to you," Ianto said in his sweet Welsh lilt, "He's just a big pussycat really." ianto smiled. He was in love with Jack, but there was something about Meila that stirred something in him he'd never experienced in relation to a woman before. Even a 600 year old time lord woman.</s>
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Bella Thorne fought the urge to fidget as she knelt on the relatively plush carpet. The well-lit hotel room in which she knelt at least looked halfway acceptable. It would have had to be, to fit in with her assigned role. The pretty teenager lifted a slightly nervous hand, pristine nails just flicking aside strawberry blonde hair. The long, loose curls at least kept it clear from her expertly painted face, especially the plump pink lips that glistened in the light. They'd spent almost half an hour on those lips alone, layering expensive lipstick and gloss on them till they seemed almost fake, as if someone had attached a blow-up doll's lips onto the gorgeous actress's face. The same care had gone into primping the girl's lean body: powder on the breasts just so, dress hung with plunging neckline. Hell, Bella had worked her way through something like six pairs of underwear before the Guia La Bruna thong vivisected her plump white cheeks. The panties alone would have fed a family of four for a few months, let alone the dress and makeup.
But Bella had argued, insisted, and when she did that, she won. Sometimes she had to purse those lips and wink or tease or wiggle fingers, but she always won. Every man she'd ever met had stared at her body, at the beautiful, innocent face, at the ripe breasts, at the softly rounded ass, and felt a stirring in his loins. Probably most of the women felt the same way. Bella used it, abused it, and got what she wanted.
But she'd been stuck in teen-bopper roles for something like years now. Even her more recent roles had pretty well pigeon-holed her as the precious little teenager. So she'd insisted that her agent find her something real, something with substance, something that would put her on the serious film map. It was that or she'd fire him and find someone who could.
Which is how Bella found herself in the starring role of Rich Little Escort. The role had been amazing, and at times Bella almost felt as if she were her character. It probably helped that the girl had decided to use Bella Luna as her "stage name." A beautiful socialite needing change in her life opts to become a high-end escort for expert clientele, only to find herself wrapped up in the world of debauchery and sexual commerce. Edgy, real, and it paired Bella with some of the best names in the business.
All of which led to a pretty girl kneeling in a room, waiting patiently while they got ready for the sex scenes. Supposedly they were going to use doubles for the actual action, which would be entirely real, no simulation, but they needed her first reactions for up-close shots and a few initials. Bella was already bored, and pretty well assured that she'd just be pulling out some poor old guy's tiny little willie, jerking it a few times and pretending that it was the best thing in the world. Thousands if not millions in the bank, and awards shows already clamoring for her name.
"Where's the male talent already?" she demanded, twisting to look, knowing that he'd been in another room. The real talent, the one she'd wanted to work with, had gone in a door, and the "sex talent" would soon come out and insist that Bella draw him out for the initial blowjob. The actress sighed again, fidgeting and pulling at the dress, ready to lash into the entire crew for the simply intolerable lack of professionalism.
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Frank Wagner was very satisfied with the particular arrangement that brought him to this particular set today. He was used to shooting sex scenes on movie sets, just not ones of this caliber. Frank was a fairly well-known porn star, known for directing porn that was both sensual, exciting but also depraved. He also had a lucrative side business of satisfying wealthy women in heat. But he had never played with someone of Bella Thorne's caliber before and he was looking forward to it.
Bella Thorne was the perfect girl for a Frank treatment. He had created a niche of production focusing on breaking boundaries of performers and making videos of exquisite pleasure and satisfaction. Frank's latest movie was about a highly popular lesbian pornstar's (for porn only, had a bf) first b/g shoot. Frank had kept her pussy for her bf and ravished her virgin ass for most of the shoot, shocking even herself with assgasms on camera. No wonder that she had left the studio with him for some all-night long fun.
So Frank knew exactly what he had to do and he was looking forward to it. It must have been one lucky guy to teach Ms. Thorne the true pleasure of the flesh and making her scream on camera. He wore a nice-looking suit that she would need to fish him out of, adjusted his cock, and strode in to the set. He smiled at the sexy actress kneeling for him, looking sultry and sensual in that dress, playing the role of a socialite seeking sexual adventure, and Frank was planning to give her just that.
He moved in front of her, standing as the script called for, the outline of a fat, veiny cock clearly visible through his slacks as the director asked for their readiness and the shoot began. Frank's hand slipped into her silky blonde hair, caressing and encouraging her like the male character was supposed to in the scene, waiting for her to free him and gauge her reaction to the fat, veiny cock that he was sure would surprise the inexperienced actress.</s>
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An exhaustedSelena Gomezgratefully took the offer drink and sipped it without thinking much of the consequences. The cool refreshing drink filled her mouth with a fruity flavor almost immediately. That chill continued as the teenage starlet swallowed, throat working subtly to take the drink into her system. She could feel the chilled liquid slightly burning as it settled into her stomach, almost as if fumes rose up from within to start bubbling at her brain. Selena very nearly hiccuped, raising a carefully trimmed hand up to cover her lips daintily, smiling at her host with some embarrassment.
To think that she actually got an invite here, of all places. He'd come out of no where, risen to power seemingly overnight, and the whole world had no real choice but to take notice. Yet it had been her, Selena Gomez, who had gotten the invitation into his home. There had been a lot of arranging to get her here: paperwork to fill out, schedules to arrange, diplomatic proceedings to adhere too. They'd had to send Selena's luggage ahead, which had left her with nothing but a small clutch purse when she'd finally arrived. She'd used that as an excuse when she'd first been led to the chambers, but they didn't seem to care.
Nor did they seem to care that the petite teen wore what amounted to an oversized sweater. Technically it was Versace, and probably cost a good deal, but it still looked almost as comfortable as fashionable, less so after the travels. Selena knew full well that her hair had to look a mess: black locks hanging in strands, some loose, some curling slightly, some nearly falling to frame her rounded face. A lot of her makeup had probably run off too: she'd been able to touch up her lips slightly with some gloss and dot around her eyes, but she just knew she had to look awful.
Still, she was before her esteemed host, sipping his drink. She complimented him on it before taking an offered piece of what looked like cracker, nibbling slightly at it, glad to get something in her belly. The girl flashed a grateful smile, starting to clear her throat to begin thanking verbally as well.
It was then that an attendant spoke: "Now, as per custom, you have agreed to the terms discussed. You shall enter into the harem as a willing participant, and adhere to your new master's wi--"
"What?" Selena stammered, spraying a little cracker/bread. She gaped at her host, brown eyes wide, mouth hanging slightly agape. "Is he... that's a really weird joke..." she glanced down at the cracker, dropping it as if it were on fire, hand already rubbing against her outfit, as if to wipe away whatever had caused this awful misunderstanding.
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Almost out of nowhere, Ghazi rose to power, gaining control of some land where he built his fortress-like palace out in the middle of nowhere. Something was missing, however; he wanted celebrity girls - girls who were so highly sought after that people would be surprised that he obtained such a rare treasure. Yet he did, over the few weeks it took him to make it possible, Ghazi managed to secure a celebrity of a different kind. Everything was looking good, but he couldn't stop at just one celebrity; he wanted a whole bunch of them serving his every need and want. It was good to be powerful.
Selena Gomez was one of those said celebrities that Ghazi had to have in his harem. With her inside and locked into his fortress, there wasn't much anyone else could do. Ghazi had followed her progress well, knew the performances and movies she was in, and was glad that she accepted his invitation to come here. When she did, she accepted a lot more than she thought she did. When she arrived, he watched her. She looked so good, and he couldn't wait to get her into her outfit and have her bent over with his long cock inside her all day.
It was of course what these celebrities were meant for. He wondered how she would take her new role but figured that she wouldn't take long to realize what she was there for; she was smart, after all. Ghazi offered her a drink and the cacker as he sat there watching her in silence. His long beard hadn't been washed in days, and his own clothing looked like a total mess. He smiled as the attendant spoke, this was the moment that she was going to be introduced to his harem and his rules, and thus he wanted this moment to be special - in a way that she wouldn't forget any time soon.
Today was the last day of her old life. Soon, she would be slipped into the ways of a harem girl and expected to serve his wishes. Ghazi was overweight; his long black hair and brown eyes watched her in silence for a moment. She means that you have agreed to stay here as one of many celebrity harem girls that I will create. You will follow my commands, dress the way I want you to dress, and serve me in many different ways. He explained to her as he watched her in silence after that.</s>
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Harry Potter was a special child. Destined to be the Chosen One, to stop the terrifying monster that was Lord Voldemort. Yet how much of that story was true? How much of that story was destiny? Was any of it? Or was it all orchestrated by one twisted old man with a superiority complex? No one wondered if prophesy was all a load of bull, since they all wanted hope to cling onto. And that hope was in the form of the Boy Who Lived.
It was a nice, sunny day at the Burrow, the residence of the Weasleys, when Dumbledore apparated the young Harry Potter to his makeshift home. Living with the Dursleys was never much fun, and the Weasleys always treated him like one of their own. With a loving smile, Mrs Weasley welcomes Harry into her home, a bone-crushing hug being the norm.
As the raven-haired boy disappeared upstairs, still quite distressed about the loss of his Godfather, Sirius Black, his friend Ronald appeared from behind the corner.
"Professor Dumbledore, sir?" The redhead said, a little uncertainty in his voice. "Can we talk for a moment?" The request came, and the elderly fellow nodded with a small laugh. "Of course, my boy. And please, call me Albus." With the suggestion that they enter his father's shed, with the various Muggle equipment laying around, the odd pair was off for an obviously private conversation.
"You promised I would have her by now!" Ron stormed angrily, his face bright red as they entered the shed. "It's not fair. That prissy mudblood bitch should be grovelling at my feet right now, sucking my cock," he said, his face holding a dreamy look for a moment before shaking out of it. "I've been keeping up my end of the bargain like you asked. I've been a nice friend to the Potter prick, but now I want what's mine!" He finished, his face matching his hair.
"Quiet Ronald! You don't want anyone to hear you. Now... I intended Mr. Potter to die by Tom's hand at the Ministry, but he was much stronger willed than I anticipated. I even used a mild Cruciatus curse on him, but he relented still." Dumbledore sighed. "We are all missing out Ronald. Miss Weasley hasn't been able to give Harry her love potion yet. I haven't gotten the fame and fortune, so I think you can wait a few more weeks for that mudblood slut..." He suggested.
Dumbledore was a powerful man, so crossing him was not advised.
"Yes sir," he sighed in defeat.
"Good. Now, I have made you and Miss Granger the Head Students a year early this year. This will give you two the master suite. I don't need to know what you'll be doing to that mudblood, just make sure she's still alive."
"Yes sir," Ron said again. A few minutes later, the conversation was finished.
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It had never been easy, being the friend of the Boy Who Lived, since it meant that they were risking their own lives by being by his side and helping him in his fight against the Dark Lord. Hermione Granger, however, was not one to back down from any threat, no matter how daunting. Friends were friends and the bushy haired know-it-all, as she'd been known as for as long as she could remember, would defend Harry's honor and stick with him through thick and thin.
Given they were all at the Burrow now, their home away from home, maybe now she could convince the boys to be a bit more meticulous with their studies and maybe even get Ronald to support S.P.E.W., although the brainy witch knew that would be easier said than done. He was so incredibly thick...
Speaking of Ron...she'd wondered where he'd gone off to. It wasn't until she looked out the window and saw him with...Dumbledore, of all people, that her curiosity was piqued, and so despite her usual politeness the young muggleborn couldn't help but sneak out towards the shed to listen in on what the two were saying. If this concerned herself or Harry, surely she had a right to know?
But what she heard next made bile rise to her throat and make her go quite pale. No...she wasn't hearing it right, she wasn't...Ron couldn't be...dear God. It was them...Dumbledore wasn't the kindly old man that she thought him to be...and Ron...Ron was such a...such a slag! Tears filled her eyes...was that truly all he thought of her as? Just a mudblood? She thought he was better than that, better than Malfoy. Harry....
Harry! She had to tell him! Backing away, Hermione gave a flick and apparated with a crack from outside into the bedroom her bespectacled friend was no doubt in, "Harry, Harry we must get out of here, Dumbledore and and...and Ron..." Her voice quavered at the end, but she held strong, "I overheard them in the shed, they're planning on using us both, Dumbledore wanted you dead!" She takes a deep breath, "Ginny is also planning on giving you a love potion. I know it sounds like rubbish...but it's the truth. We must leave now!" She didn't know how much longer they had; she prayed Ron and Dumbledore hadn't heard her taking her leave. If she could apparate herself and Harry out of there, she knew that she'd have a chance. It was the only way. Ron had hurt her...she'd fancied him for so long...and to know he was no better than Malfoy? It was sickening...was this entire family as traitorous as the death eaters made them out to be? How had they not seen the signs?</s>
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The walker outbreak might be five hundred days old but it never got any easier living in this world. Most people were living day-to-day and scavenging for supplies with no shelter over their head. The lack of protection and lack of other people's morals made this a dangerous way of living because the walkers were not the only problem. Humans might have been just as big or even bigger of a problem than walkers were. The will to survive was a natural desire and it caused ordinary people to do crazy things without any punishment. There was no law anymore, just survival.
A lucky group of people in Georgia had found shelter in a prison. It had a couple layers of fences with the tops covered in barbed wire with towers all around to serve as a watchtower so no one got close. They had occupied this place for nearly an entire year with organized systems in place like growing crops, maintaining an armory, and sleeping quarters. It had been about five months since the incident with Woodbury and the Governor, thinking that they were safe. A couple dozen of Woodbury's former residents were now living with the prison, expanding the living quarters and providing more mouths to feed but more able bodies to work.
In reality, there was nothing else like this anymore and it was pretty much all controlled by the former sheriff Rick Grimes. His right hand man was Daryl Dixon with Glenn Rhee and twenty-six year old Lee Hughes not far behind. Everyone looked to these men as the main leaders even though Rick was taking a step back now from all the stressful decisions, formulating a council to act as the head of the prison group.
It was early in the morning and the sun was just rising. Lee slept peacefully on the bed inside of the cell he shared with his wife of over two years, Maggie Greene. The couple had grown up together and started dating in their early years. Of course, no one expected this to last because they were just kids at the time they began dating but strangely enough, nothing could ever break them apart. They survived high school and college unscathed. Sure, they had arguments because all couples argue but there was never any major problems. Lee was in his last year of college at the University of Georgia as an Administration major when the outbreak started. Before the outbreak, Lee and Maggie planned to get married after graduation to start their lives together but it wasn't that simple.
In the early days, everyone on the farm except Lee believed these people were sick and could be healed with prayer and medicine. Lee wasn't this kind of person because he watched his mother die firsthand from this infection. She worked as a nurse in the local hospital where the first strains of infection broke out and when he couldn't get into contact with her, he sneaked inside the hospital to find his mother being ripped to shreds by these things that were not human. These things were not human and it took the arrival of Rick's group to make everyone understand that. His father was a police officer and killed on the line of duty when Lee was only five years old so he was all alone now but Hershel and Annette Greene happily accepted him onto the farm. Before the farm went to flames, Maggie and Lee were able to have a little ceremony to signify their marriage, using some old wedding bands that was in Maggie's family.
Two years later, the twenty-six year old male was laying on a mattress inside of a prison cell. His attire right now consists of only his navy blue boxers because he can't sleep in any clothing but a minimal covering of his body was required because the world was so unpredictable. His hair was very dark brown, almost a black color. However, it was rather short and straight with no curls at all. His eyes were a bright blue, complimenting his hair. His beard was the same color as the hair on his head and it was quite unruly and untamed. Besides Rick, Lee had the fullest beard of all the men around. For his entire life, lee played football and lifted weights, keeping his body in top form.
Therefore, when the outbreak began, the physical demands of the new world allowed him plenty of opportunities to build more muscle. Being outside so much allowed for a deeper tan along with a chiseled body from head to toe. While there wasn't enough nutrition to go around every day, he was becoming more slender each day but his muscle definition was still obvious. Lee was also the tallest man around, towering at an impressive six feet and four inches above the ground. So far, he had to duck through nearly every doorway at this prison.
Lee was quiet, kind, and conscientious. He often put others needs before his own and has always been socially awkward, preferring to stick to himself in most cases. While his kind heart remained and he still wanted to help people out during this outbreak, he was also wary of the opposition because only a handful of people in this world were not murderers. His number one priority every day was to ensure the safety of his wife Maggie followed by ensuring the other members of his group were safe. They were his family now and he treated it like so.
There was some rustling on the bed that woke him up from his slumber. It was probably going to be a relaxed day since he didn't have anything to do other than take a two hour shift on the watch tower facing North around noon. It was rare to get a day where he could sleep in and just relax so he planned on using it to his advantage but his eyes slowly open, sleep still showing on his face. He wasn't comprehending the world around him right now, just waking up from his deep slumber. "Maggie?" He murmured, blue eyes now fully open to see Maggie shifting around beside of him as he rolled onto his back.
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The cells in the prison weren't the biggest, why would they be? They held the country's most harmful men - murderers, rapists, burglars, drug users. The beds were just metal frames with a thin mattress on top, covered by one blanket; it wasn't much, but to the survivors it was heaven.
Maggie was lying in the bed next to Lee, who had pushed two beds together to form a bigger surface. Both had been asleep in their 'love den' all night. Maggie was wearing nothing but a bra and panties, both black, and she lay on her stomach with her head on the pillow.
Stirring from her slumber when Lee called her name, the girl smiled at him while sunshine streamed through the window, which had three metal bars running through it. "So nice to wake up safe," she yawned, stretching herself, rolling onto her back with her hands and arms now in the air.
The pair were in a different section of the prison; they used the excuse that they would keep watch, keeping all entrances covered, but everyone knew they were married, and therefore probably wanted to be alone. Leaning in, Maggie kissed her husband on the cheek and then nestled on top of his chest, her cheek pressed against him.
"I'm going to have to go soon. Got a run to make with a few of the others. Maybe get some medical supplies. We need them." Her accent was strong, and a finger ran a circle around his stomach as she spoke.</s>
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Rilima Daymasat found herself in what had to be one of the most sleazy bars in all the Citadel. After its reconstruction and repair after the end of the Reaper War, many new venues had popped up in the vast station. Now designed with all the races in mind, not just the Founding Council races, the Ward's House now housed an even more varied underbelly than before. This bar was tailored specifically to Krogan drinks and food, and as such had many aggressive beasts here.
Why she was here was a long story, but she could summarize it like this: her boyfriend, a nice budding young man from the Alliance, had talked her into trying more kinky things. What he really wanted was a threesome, like any man, and had practically begged for it. She caved, but on the condition that she got to pick who, when, and how, which he had hastily agreed too. She almost felt sorry for the boy, since he wasn't going to be getting the pair of girls riding him like he might have been expecting.
Rilima was here to find a partner, and no female at that. She was here to find someone to give him a new outlook on what 'kinky' is. She knew full well he was not the sort of man to back down, so this was certainly going to test him. So she spent the night sitting at a table alone with a drink, scanning the room, watching for big Krogan who caught her eye, those that took an interest in her anyway. She had already turned away a couple who didn't want to fuck a guy, even for the promise of her, but she knew it would be a matter of time till one showed up.
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Trendok Sroyaxe, or Tren by those who knew him, stood at the bar of the sleazy bar. It was a place where he came to release his anger and frustration, which sometimes led to brawls with smaller Krogen. To be honest, few equaled that of Tren; he was at least a foot taller than most Krogen and built like a Turian Dreadnought. His reddish-tan body was only hidden by his ebony black armored suit. A suit that showed off just how mighty a Krogen he was, all the way down to his exquisite male anatomy.
This night though, he wasn't looking to brawl or anything harmful. He was getting bored with the usual items here at the bar: the drinks, the brawls, and even the women and men who sought his services. Sipping his strong stout, he gazed around the bar, expecting nothing interesting. Mostly what he saw was usual, and he was about to leave, it was then someone caught his eye.
Over in a booth there was an Asari, not like the others who danced or were just not to his liking. This one looked on a mission. He had seen her talk to many large and formidable Krogen, but all looked displeased when they left her. The curiosity was growing in him, but he wasn't one to be small-minded and just ask her; he would wait here. The thought of what she was doing made him grin and chuckle low. What was she up to? And as he thought, he glanced over at her stout in hand and giving it a nice swig, but not looking away from her.</s>
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Curtis looked down at the handcuffs, chaining his wrists and ankles together during the ride to Arkham. It was absolute bullshit that he was being put with the crazies in that asylum, all because he defaced the property of corrupt government officials. Well... defacing might be a tame word for it, especially considering the flesh-eating acid he put in one guy's car air conditioner. It wasn't enough to kill or seriously harm, just enough to scare and some minor permanent damage. But that was no reason for him to go to Arkham Asylum, right?
Curtis Smith was a seventeen, almost eighteen year old boy with a prowess for liquids of the dangerous variety. Anything that went boom made the boy smile, and if it was made by him, a full on grin would appear. But with talents like his, he hadn't gone to the 'dark side', not yet at least. That's why his victims were always the corrupt ones, the guys that were in the pocket of Two Face or Cobblepot. Those guys could afford to be put down a peg or ten, who cares?
Beside the handcuffed criminal sat two larger men, assault rifles in hand, They watched him intently, ensuring that he had no magic tricks to get out of their grasp. But he knew that this would be his life from now on, he didn't have friends in high places to get him out of a mess like this.
Feeling quite hungry, the topic of food soon entered his mind. "What kind of food do they have at Arkham?" The boy was cut off by a hard slam as something hit the armoured car, sending it across the road into a nearby building. The brick wall seemed stronger than armoured car as the metallic vehicle crumbled. The mere hit alone seemed to kill the guards that had been sitting across from him, but it still injured Curtis greatly. The last thing he saw before he fell unconscious was the van's back doors being ripped off, revealing a few thugs standing behind a woman. This woman did not have any distinguishable features - likely due to his blurring vision - but she seemed colourful.
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Cuffed and chained to a bench in the heart of a crumpled police van now rolled over on its side, to say the teenage boy in his plain orange prison outfit and blurred expression was impressive would be grossly charitable. Yet there was something about that crazy little half-smile in his mug shots that caught her eye - not to mention that flesh eating acid gag! That one was worthy of Mista J!
Harley Quinn paused at the thought, sniffed, then let out a peal of laughter as she sprang into the back of the van and swung her special striped Louisville Slugger around into the back of the head of one corpse that was looking at her funny. "Hey Lewis, come give me a hand? " The bloody bat rose once again, and came down with vicious force to snap open Curtis' chains where they attached to the seat. The boy slumped to the ground, but between them Lewis and Roscoe soon had him slung between their shoulders.
In the distance police sirens wailed, and Harley led her posse away from the van and the big rig half mounting it. They all bundled into a white-rimmed sedan and tore off down the back streets with their prize.
When he finally woke, Curtis would find he'd been laid out on a medical gurney in one corner of a warehouse. There was a red-and-black blanket laid over him to keep him warm, both sides rolled in beneath him like a semi-criminal sausage. A flickering light hung low overhead, and on the next gurney over Harley sat, kicking her heels as she stared at the wall over his head and chewed her gum. Half-outside the light circle a third gurney sat, but by the bleeding hole in his head that guy had seen better days.
Once she saw he was awake, Harley thrust out a hand and beamed at the prone boy. "Hey, how are ya Curtis? Thanks for comin' by!"</s>
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Beneath With Me
Club LUSH is one of the most infamous underground super clubs buried in the ever-growing black market of Coruscant. Having now become a center haven for illegal activity and unlawful negotiations, it is a high-end night club and bar harboring customers from crooks, to criminals, to even corrupt politicians. Club LUSH had them all. Despite its flagrant reputation, it is deemed virtually untouchable; protected by its bound criminal ties and cemented fortunes. Many called it "illegally legal", but still, it grew from a hole in the wall to a glorious empire. Now reigned as a multi-facet establishment, the building contained several floors. The main floor Level 1, or "LUSH LOUNGE", was the main point of entry of the building which was a sort of more relaxed, lounging area. This floor also contained a reception desk which allowed for check in and check out of the Club for all related visitors, as well as special access to LUSH hotel rooms (available only to wealthy and prestigious individuals as well as VIP members). Level 2-5 are all floor providing an assortment of different hotel rooms and private rooms. Level 6 was LUX PENTHOUSE, a quieter and much more luxurious lounge and bar that also provided gambling. Only VIP members were granted access to this area, which was not only extremely exclusive but also private. Most criminal activities and political corruptions took place on this level. It was a safe playground for all major underground business deals. Though, probably the most public business was the lower level basement. Ground Zero or more well known as the "DUNGEON", was an underground electronic night club. It employed dozens of artists of various talents, from your typical exotic pole dancers and club singers, to aerial artists and accomplished musical groups - there was entertainment to suit many tastes. Although the LUSH may look polished to the club-hungry outsider, it was a dark places; operating at the hands of a monster. To him, I was not an entertainer... I was a slave; property.
AS SKILLED WITH HER VOICE AS SHE IS WITH HER HIPS
The papers' headlines read; completely belittling my being to just an object of desire. To happy-go-lucky paying customers, I was capable of rendering even the strongest of men completely smitten. Although locally acclaimed, many would assume that my status as a low-time underworld celebrity was in good taste. Bound by the silence of my invisible shackles, I was not a free woman. Grim, the owner of Club LUSH and a notorious drug-lord, loved to watch me perform.
"You promised me this would be my last!" I argued with him as he sat laid back in the shadows of his office, practically fabricated entirely out of gold. "The revenue the Dungeon show alone has generated is double the amount remaining on my debt. I've earned my freedom," I said.
There was silence, then two puffs of smoke from his cigarette that seeped from his devious lips and polluted the air in the room. His grinning smile was enough to send shivers down any person's spine. Even the strongest of men felt sick with just one wicked glance from the eyes of the infamous Grim. Suddenly, he burst out laughing, emitting the most diabolical hysteria I had ever seen. "Freedom?" He spat back in my face. "You've become a star here, Gypsy." The name made me cringe. It was the very nickname that cemented by dreaded fate in this hellbound establishment. "Your debt is paid, it's true. But if you leave, my biggest asset will be lost. I will lose revenue... and that darling... That will be on you," he said with a smirk.
My mouth dropped as my eyes widened at his twisted sense of logic. He continued. "You don't think I can forgive such a defacement of my business, do you? No, you see..." He took another whiff of his fag before taking the drag in between his index and thumb. He faced the cigarette down, as if to put it out, and right when he did so, two guards lunged for me, forcing my chest forward onto the table. One guard pinned my head on the table, making me look up to the one man I hated most in this world. The second guard forced my hand out as an offering to him. Grim grinned, "... You're mine." Grim pushed the lit butt of the cigarette into my palm, using my flesh as a personal ashtray. I yelped out as the drag seared my skin. Marking me permanently, Grim leaned in and whispered in my ear. "...You'll always be mine."
It was a wild Saturday night in the busy lower streets of Coruscant. The dark streets, infinitely untouched by sunlight, were illuminated solely on bright neons and foggy street lights. The sound of muffle music could be heard blaring from multiple establishments amidst downtown nightlife. But the most popular and prominent business was none other than Club LUSH. The place had a lineup that encircled the entire block, with mostly VIPs and other important persons making it in while the rest of mediocre and unimportant citizens waited patiently for a chance of entry. Tonight was DUNGEON DJ Night, a massive blowout electro party in the underground sector of the club. The event catered to a younger demographic, with blasting electronic music all revolving around a "break free" theme. The irony was especially painful for the dancers, singers, and virtually any female employee who had become indebted to Grim. We were not free. We would never be free.
With tables pushed back to make room for a gigantic dance floor, the DJ was spinning and the club was alive. The music so loud it practically slapped you, the energy in the club was unmatched and electric. Performing was the only sense of relief I got from this unfortunate fate. For only a brief moment, while leading a mass of party goers to their happy places, could I experience a small, fractured glimpse of freedom. "I WANNA SEE YOU BREAK FREEEE!" Jumping up and down to build up the crowd, every single member on the dance floor had their hands up in the air, jumping, screaming, and singing with me as the DJ pumped the song Dance Without You to my vocals.
So serious, all the time
I feel restrained.
I feel confined.
I cannot take your whispering, your whispering
I wanna dance without you
For once just let me lose myself
I wanna dance without you
For once just let me lose myself
For once let me lose myself
How can I make history, with your choreography?
Take your hands off me, Take your hands off me
Before I suffocate
I wanna dance without you
For once just let me lose myself
I wanna dance without you
For once just let me lose myself lose myself
For once let me lose myself
Although I was a slave, my skimpy outfit adorned in gold told a very different story. Free from shackles on the stage, I sang solo but danced with a troupe of other talented dancers behind me. At first glance I seemed innocent, but the white color of my attire would soon betray that image as I moved my body with hypnotic fluidity. I had become well-known for my belly dancing before Club fame, and I incorporated my abdominal and hip skills in virtually every dance skit I choreographed. The papers were right. With silky purple skin and fearless violent eyes, I was a striking sight to see.
Despite the crazy party, pumping with increasing intensity, DUNGEON DJ featured several intermissions where the music dimmed down, allowing for partiers to take a break from dancing to grab drinks, food, and often...drugs. My segment, which incorporated live singing to many of the songs customers dance to, was only 2 hours, starting at 11pm and ending at 1am. After the set would end, I would continue to entertain by serving and socializing with customers until the club faded out by about 3 in the morning. With just minutes to spare before 1am, the song Dance Without You concluded, and my last finale began on a much deeper feeling. The stage filled with artificial smoke, completely devouring the dance crew, including myself. The room now in almost total utter darkness as the transition took effect. The beat transitioned into a darker undertone and the crowd settled down with the change. The stage was now void of any dancers; and I was the only one left on stage. Within seconds, the smoke began to clear, and a single, dull beam of light rose from the stage at my feet. The light shun upwards, illuminating my body but shadowing my face.
Can't escape
All the fire burning bright
Water still is rising
Throughout the long nights
My voice became saturated in sweetness; its harmonious tune soft against my tongue. The room was sedated, enthralled by my seductive voice as I searched for wanting eyes. Locking eyes on a mysterious face in the crowd, I extended my hand outward, unintentionally revealing the same flesh that had been scarred just hours earlier.
Come take my hand
And focus on the light down at the end
Say words to comfort me
We still have time for hope
That's all we need
Beneath with me
Beneath with me
Beneath with me
As the beat built up and subsequently dropped, smoke began to form again on stage. The fog was swallowing me from behind, taking my head, torso, legs and feet. For only a brief moment, it left solely my extended hand in the light before taking that too. The song left a ghostly resonance, as if I were the recently deceased, void of all freedom and life, calling out for anyone to join in this journey of death...Beneath With Me.
When my voice returned, I could not be seen, only heard. I was consumed by the darkness of the terminated lights, missing in the crowd's bed of black.
Morning grace
Enemies have come together
Miles have gone silent
In the arms of strangers
The foggy abyss of the stage cleared, and the darkness lifted. I stood on stage still as a statue, my head down to the floor surrounded by black gowned dancers. Their faces and identities completely hidden beneath the confines of a silenced golden skull mask. Behind me lay a massive sheet of silk material which hung from a suspension to the ceiling. As I continued to sing, the skull dancers remained completely still beside me.
Come take my hand
And focus on the light down at the end
Say words to comfort me
We still have time for hope
That's all we need
Beneath with me
Beneath with me
Beneath with me
At the end of the final verse, the skull-faced dancers began to grab me in an artificially violent manner. I was tossed around like a rag doll as they thrashed me back and forth. Their hands molested my body, rubbing me and groping me as they took their turns. As the beat dropped, they shoved me to the ground and tore my skirt off, leaving me in nothing but scantily clad bikini bottoms. They began wrapping the silk intricately around my body and legs before finally disappearing into the smoke again. My body was lifted off the ground as the silk sheet, coiled around me, was pulled slowly into the air. The silk not only suspended me above the stage, but moved forward to hang above the seduced crowd. Right before the beat ceased, I flipped forward, my body unraveling like a pulled stitch as I spiraled loose from the silk. I dropped down, suspended upside-down with dead weight as I hung like acorpsewith the cheering crowd laying lamentbeneath with me.
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The streets of Coruscant's Underground were notoriously slimy. Not in dirty or trash, but with people walking it. Countless various species rubbing shoulders, always with a hand on their pockets. Trust was a valuable and rare commodity, and none shared it on the streets themselves. Stimulation to the eyes was torturous - neon lights flashing and blinking because of bad connections, young people waving light sticks as they listened to music from mobile devices. Bright streetlights fought to keep alight walkways, but blindness cursed these streets. Not always figuratively.
The noise was deafening: shouting salesmen peddling goods on open streets, various music all mangled together in a mess of bleeding beats and cutting riffs. The screams and pleas of slaves and beaten victims were heard. Being deaf was a relief in these streets.
The streets were packed, leaving little shoulder room even at this time of night. People could not walk more than a foot without having to avoid bumping into strangers. A stranger more likely to steal your valuables or cut you down than say hello or sorry. But in these packed streets there were those who could walk unhindered: slavers mainly but occasionally the black-robed stranger cut its way through the crowds. The intimidating powerful force of one of these men or women could cut through these crowded streets like a warm knife through butter. Even slavers gave way to folk like this.
Red eyes glared their way through the streets, intent on a destination. Even shrouded behind a hood, their faint glow was visible, making the imposing force even more respected, and feared. A Slaver quickened his slaves across the streets, slapping one slave for begging at the tall, red eyed man. The man didn't even look over his shoulder at the commotion. He continued. Cutting his way through the main crowd, leading into an opening of the street, were big signs tainted everyone's vision. 'Club LUSH'.
The red eyed man stopped in his tracks, glaring emotionless at the many signs, before looking over his shoulder to a nearby poster for the club. The picture of the beautiful woman on it was not the thing to catch his attention, but instead the lineup of artists this night. With wondering eyes, he glared at the poster for a while, before picking out a communication device from his pocket. Clicking a button, a figure became apparent on the device. This wore a black robe, much like the one the red eyed man wore himself. Beneath the hood, a face was clouded in a black smoke, revealing only a pair of green lights, where eyes should be.
The voice was rasping and shrouded, as if spoken through smoke.
You've reached Club LUSH. This is Grim's domain. He is the man you must speak to, once you find the subject.
We've both felt the power of this source. We must have this one... Make this clear to him, and he will see reason.
If not... Next visit will be of my Apprentice.
I am counting on you. Get this subject.
The red eyed man pressed the same button again and pocketed the device as the image disappeared. Once again, strong steps sent the man towards his destination, the black robe waving behind him in the wind, and fighting to keep up with his pace.
The red-eyed man walked straight through the massive crowd of people. Again, his robes and red eyes granted him an amount of respect and fear that allowed him to barge straight through. As two Zabrak politicians opened the door, laughing and joking about something meaningless, the red-eyed man barged right past them, through the open door. One of the men shouted after the red-eyed man, but was quickly silenced by the less intoxicated pencil pusher. The red-eyed man didn't even allow them a glance over his shoulder.
Reaching the receptionist, he barged right past the lines and ignored the scantily clad woman behind it, who was already talking to another customer. This caused quite the complaining murmur in the impatient crowd. The receptionist looked up, wide-eyed, seemingly surprised at the feeling of authority in the man arriving.
"Excuse me, sir," she said, "You'll have to wait in line like anybody else, even as a politician." She started, appalled by the rude behavior of the new arrival. As she spoke, the red-eyed man fished something out of an inner pocket in his robe and placed it on the table. A signet of the Senate proclaiming this man had business for them, which bore little meaning to anyone here. Several people in line had these.
"That doesn't get you anywhere, sir," she continued, "I'm afraid you'll still have to..." Her words slowed down as he reached out for the signet again. Twisting it with a finger, the signet dawned black wings and a dark mask in the middle. This was the signet of a recruiter from House Yimar, more specifically. Even accomplished businessmen like Grim knew better than to leave these men waiting at the door to their establishments. Not mentioning the possibility of a profitable sale, there might be no door the next day.
The receptionist knew the signet, and quickly looked up, with a hand in front of her lips. The few costumers around, who could see the signet, quickly looked away, signing to any of their friends who might still be complaining, to shut up.
"I.. I am so sorry, sir. Step right through the doors on either side," she said, apologizing without stopping. "I didn't mean t.." She stopped appologicing, since the red eyed man had already picked up his signet, and head straight towards the stairs to the, so called, 'DUNGEON'.
The man's red eyes, scanned the room he entered, once reaching the bottom of the stairs. The eyes narrowed slightly, as he clawed his right hand in front of himself. His fingers stretched, bent and twitched, as he concentrated on his task at hand. Focusing on his powers, he became blind to everything else. He just saw the force. There were several signs of it. Pathetic twingles of it, in lesser creatures, such as Bounty Hunters, and Mercenaries. These people were possibly exceptional at their jobs, because of this twingle, but certainly not what he was looking for.
This scene, was not the red eyed man's scene. The music was enjoyable, but the crowd was appalling. Stretching his neck, the red eyes narrowed and stared towards the stage. The man cursed his luck, realizing the subject was a performer, rather than a server. These were always overpriced, and the owners often had to be pushed towards the sale.
The realization struck like a brick, as his eyes fell upon the main singer of this hour. The red eyes narrowed slightly, realizing just how unlucky he might've gotten this night. The poster girl of Club LUSH, was force sensitive. Rank one, on Yimar's personal graph. The highest potential. A hidden gem, in a sea of pebbles and boulders. The red eyes calmed slightly, as they focused on the singer's eyes His expression was quite emotionless, but the eyes were cold.
Her dance was seductive. Mesmerizing. Her beauty pristine. Untouched. But the voice. The voice was enthralling. Captivating. The red eyed man was drawn in, and kept him in his place. He should be on his way to Grim's table, but he was stunned. Never had his step failed him. His determination never waned. His resolve never broken. But this night, a voice left Trak breathless. Lost, in the beautiful voice, and dance, of this performer. The emotionless black ocean, that was Trak's mind, was tainted in red by unwanted thoughts, as well as memories. Things long since forgotten, and buried behind a shield of discipline, and training.
All of this, was not apparent in the Chiss' face. Emotionless and cold, it stared at the performer, as she seduced his mind to feelings unbeknownst to him now.
As the song changed mood, the red eyes narrowed slightly, as they traveled to the performer's own purple eyes. As they did, their gaze interlocked, and Trak's face calmed. No longer emotionless, but instead moved by the singer's song. Trak didn't look away from her eyes, even for a second. The glowing red eyes on his blue face would still feel as cold and glaring as ever, as Trak stood motionless on the dance floor. People around him danced and cheered with the song, but the black-robed man remained still. Just staring. Reaching out with his eyes, as she sang her song of desperation.
Trak frowned, as the performer was swallowed by smoke, and he remained where he stood. To him, this was not just a symbol of her being swallowed by the taint she was already chained to. This symbolized what -he- was here to do to her. What -he- had done to so many before. Tossed them to the wolves. To be swallowed by a darkness most corrupting. A fate, he knew the course of. Death or torture. There were just those two in the Sith Academy. Trak breathed heavily through his nose, as the voice rang again, the red eyes staring for the performer's but never found them. Instead, found her surrounded by him. Trak's face ticked with realization, closing his eyes as he turned his face away, shaking his head. What had she done to him? Why was this affecting him this way?
As the performer was suspended into the air, carried above the crowd, lifeless. Her death, by his hand. The red eyes followed the still woman, as she was carried right above him. Sadness, was apparent in his face, as he watched the lifeless body of the woman above him, sneering silently. And as the woman was released, Trak's arms moved in front of himself, as if he prepared himself to catch the woman. Should she open her eyes, he would be unmistakable. Right below her. Had she been just a little further down, their noses would have met. But instead, his eyes just stared up at her, his arms finally dropping down by his side.
It felt like an eternity, staring at the performer, before his arm instinctively grabbed at the Cathar by his side's shirt, pulling him close.
"Grim's table..."Trak demanded, the Cathar only complaining until he heard the demand. This was an interaction no sane person would want to get between, so the man quickly pointed towards the area Grim would be. While talking and listening, Trak never looked away from the performer, and her eyes, should she be looking at him. Only when guided did he look briefly towards Grim's table, before back on the performer. The red eyes narrowed slightly, seemingly in disdain, before Trak pushed the Cathar away and headed straight for Grim's table.
"I wish to speak with Grim immediately."Trak's voice was demanding and imposing as he approached Grim's table or office.</s>
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Two months ago...
The townsfolk cheered and roared in joy as their new champion, Sinvious Dawnguard held onto his scarf as his icy blue eyes wandered over the crowd. Holding his sword tightly, he looked at the portal that was now before him. "As your new champion," he said, "I shall return victorious where no other champion has before me!" He roared as he unsheathed his sword and held it high into the air. This caused the townsfolk to cheer even louder as their words could be heard throughout the entire town. "Sinvious! Sinvious the champion will save us all!" they cheered as Sinvious had lowered his sword and then rushed towards the portal before entering into the new world.
Current day:
Sinvious stood inside his makeshift cabin and looked outside through the kitchen window as he prepared his small meal. "Gonna need to explore again soon," he said, "but this time I think I'm ready for the mountains today." He grinned as he ate his meal. Sure, he could have gone back to Tel'Adre and bought some food, but he wanted to earn it and save his gems for when he really needed them. Yes, he was a cheapskate when it came to that, but gems were hard to get at times so he did whatever he had to to get them.
After his meal, he grabbed his sword and scarf and left for the mountains. He managed to beat a few imps on the way and even some Cerberus before coming across a hidden path that had something that caught his eye. "I wonder what's going on over here..." he whispered to himself as he made his way around the back behind the demons and then came across strange cages that were mostly covered, but what freaked him out was there was moaning coming from them. Before he could react or do anything, he felt something heavy hit the back of his head, and he passed out.
Hours later...
When Sinvious finally woke up, he found his hands bound and couldn't speak due to the ball-gag in his mouth. He looked around at his prison cell and noticed there were typical bars but a small barred window that was too high for him to reach even if he had the use of his hands. His eyes shifted around the dark room before pausing at the bars to his prison. "I wonder who's here," he thought as he heard footsteps coming his way.
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A succubus walked up to the bars, shaking her heavy, bare tits, looking him over. "Good morning, slut," she said, flapping her wings as she entered his cell. "It's time to give me breakfast, stud. That's all you humans are good for."</s>
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The first day of class was officially in session at the sound of a shrill bell that rang through every corridor and room of the prestigious academia. Twenty or so students were already in their seats, eagerly awaiting the arrival of their homeroom instructor who was to assign each of them their Pokmon companion for an entire year, or possibly more. The teacher, who also doubled as a Pokmon researcher in her spare time, entered the classroom carrying a covered basket that was undoubtedly filled to the rim with Pok Balls. The red-and-white design of the contraptions glimmered through the cracks, each Pok Ball sheltering a random Pokmon that was soon to be a student's roommate and possible friend for the rest of the semester.
Just minutes after the bell rang, the professor centered the basket on top of her front podium and settled the rowdy classroom with a clap of her hands. "Hello," she greeted with a youthful, exuberant smile that belied her old age. "My name is Professor Willow. I will be your homeroom instructor for the rest of the year. I had each and every one of you fill out a brief information sheet and check off an attendance list this morning, so we won't go through an official roll call." Even she was aware that all the students were not interested in passing around classroom syllabuses and discussing boring classroom procedures. What they were interested in was the basket on top of her desk.
"Instead, I'll call your names and the type of Pokmon you have been assigned for the rest of the year," she explained, causing a clamor in the classroom as she picked up the first Pokball in her hand. "The partner assignments are random, so I hope that all of you will try your hardest to master the elemental type of your Pokmon. Who knows? You may even come to become a type specialist like some famous Gym Leaders."
She tossed the first Pokball onto the ground and it split open to reveal a Poochyena Pokboy. "Lilly Lee," the instructor called the Pokmon's partner by her full name, summoning the shy girl to the front of the classroom. "Your partner will be a Poochyena, a Dark type Pokemon. Poochyenas are known for their tenacious nature." She added tips and bits of information to each and every Pokmon's introduction to rouse the interest of her students, which she succeeded in doing. She came to the twelfth name on the roster and bounced another Pokball from the tips of her fingers. This time, a Glaceon appeared in a blink of red light, her sleepy gaze turning towards the classroom once the glimmering aura faded.
The professor called the name of a male student to the front, much to everyone's disappointment who wasn't called to claim the rare Pokemon. "You're very lucky," Professor Willow told him. "Only twelve percent of Glaceons are born female in the wild. Why don't you say hello to your new partner, see if she likes you?"
It was the moment everyone held their breath for. Some students had already experienced the humiliating moment of being rejected by their Pokmon in front of the classroom. One Helioptile had scoffed in disgust by her assigned tamer and returned to her Pokball, leaving the student embarrassed and with an aggressive Pokgirl under his care.
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Red was still finding it hard to believe where he was, even if he'd officially moved his stuff into his dorm room the day before. It was a long ways from Pallet Town, after all. And before this he'd been a public school sort of kid. Everything was new to him. Even the air smelled different, somehow. Not even the explanation of what, exactly, went into taming a Pokegirl could keep down his excitement. Somehow he'd managed not to pick up on just how much sex was going to be involved (maybe they didn't want children knowing about it?). His face still burned if he brought up memories of that rather frank orientation. But, being a red-blooded young man, he'd be lying if he said it didn't make him at least a little excited for entirely different reasons.
So, like most of the students in the room, Red was practically on the edge of his seat. He'd brought out a pen and notebook in case he needed to take notes, but found himself drumming the pen on his desk in an antsy, rhythmless manner. He didn't notice the glares his nearest neighbors were shooting him. He didn't even notice the smug, shit-eating grin his rival Blue shot him after randomly drawing a Charmander, one of the most coveted starters in Kanto. Instead, Red was totally engrossed in daydreaming about what sort of partner he would be given. Someone beautiful? Someone strong? What if he got randomly paired with a Pokeboy?What if he was like Helioptile Guy?
Before his racing thoughts could carry him down any stranger paths, he heard his name being called. He jumped, just a little, as if startled...and that was when he saw her. She couldn't keep his eyes off her as he made his way up to the front of the room. She was obviously some sort of Eevee (the diamond-shaped ears were a dead giveaway), but one he'd never seen before. Kanto's temperate climate didn't bless it with a variety of Ice-types.
The young man that stood before Glaceon was lean and athletic, the sort of build that naturally came from living in a remote town where one walked or biked everywhere. Though he was wearing the dark-colored men's uniform, he also wore, somewhat contrarily, a red baseball cap. Underneath the cap's brim was a mop of somewhat unruly brown hair and a fairly ordinary-looking face, but for the earnestness that practically radiated from his brown eyes. He'd stayed up late the night before trying to come up with a cool line, but nothing came to him. That just wasn't his style. So instead he favored her with an easy smile as he held out his hand. "Hi, I'm Red. Nice to meet you, partner."
Red was somewhat unprepared for the encounter. He hadn't quite grasped that, in some ways, he nowownedthis girl. But he could relate to the idea of making a new friend, at least. Even if it was a friend with benefits, a traitorous part of his mind whispered.</s>
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An entire island had gone under within a matter of days. The Sin, the driving force which had supposedly been defeated by the Summoner and her Guardians, had reappeared, driving a new wave. This wave seemed to be surging stronger, as if driven by some new force or desire. Had Sin risen again? The rumors began to fly, particularly as not a single survivor has escaped from the island. Already something of a quarantine had been established, and it almost seemed to have worked. That the creatures also would have to cross the Thunder Plains likely helped matters further.
This was nothing more than a temporary solution: a quarantine, not a cure. Somehow they would have to go to the source, to determine what was truly working within this strange island.
Which is how Yuna found herself equipping a Gunner's dress sphere as she looked down at the island below. Her mismatched green and blue eyes narrowed as she took in the teeming masses. The landscape appeared dotted with the creatures, nearly swarming. How had they possibly let it get this far? Even from her position far above the place, Yuna could feel just how... wrong it all was. It made her rub her arms, barely suppressing a shudder. She longed for her Aeons, wishing she could call upon their help. The guns she had upon her holsters felt paltry in comparison.
Yuna, Rikku, and possibly the new girl, Paine, would land in a team together, with several others staying on the ship. Originally there had been protests about letting the ex-summoner, one of the saviors of Spira, enter such a dangerous place. Yuna had been quick to point out that it was because of her position that she needed to go. Rikku had been equally adamant, and others had backed their skill. Dress-spheres would substitute for Aeons, and the girls would all be equipped with communication spheres for the moment they hit trouble. It should be an easy enough mission. If anything grew too awful, they were to retreat.
Yuna nodded, stood up, brushed off her knees, feeling proud at not flushing at the slightly revealing outfit any more. Her Gunner garb certainly bared more skin than her Summoner's robes. It felt freeing... but also embarrassing, a point Rikku had hammered home with numerous quips about Yuna's "perky little butt." The Gunner took her position beside her cousin, who was already humming and swaying on her feet. She nodded, hearing Rikku already speaking about YRP being ready for position.
Then everything went wrong. The ship shook. Red sirens flashed. Yuna lunged, missing a railing by inches. The landing pod they were supposed to use broke off in an instant. Yuna felt the world falling around her, the technology barely keeping them from simply plummeting. Even as it was, they hit hard, hit hard and... and separated? Yuna couldn't tell. Everything had blurred for her, and, dazed, she found herself stumbling free from the pod. At least she hadn't lost enough of her innate life force to show wounds; she could check that on display spheres. But the pod... the pod looked worse for wear. And Rikku was no where in sight.
"Hello?" Yuna said, touching her communication sphere. "Hello, can anyone hear me? I'm alright..." she paused as the sphere produced a fuzzy image. Something like voices fizzled on the other end for several seconds, before nothing but snow filled the sphere. Sighing, Yuna closed her eyes, sinking to her knees. She could feel the ground below scuffing against her, and she felt like simply letting the despair wash over her.
However, a sound caught her attention. A gun flew into her hand and she rolled, the long tail of chestnut hair flying about her. Those multicolored eyes narrowed as she sighted down the barrel, hesitating for a moment, uncertain if she'd be meeting a fiend or had already relocated one of her friends, if they'd even come down to this accursed place with her. Just that moment of hesitation. Just... a moment.
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He had long ago forgotten his name. Even before the single Sinscale had attached itself to his dying body, the pain and the suffering had been all he had known for sometime. He had a pleasant childhood and a loving family, but he was unlucky enough to be born in a certain village that practiced a certain tradition right around the time he was coming into maturity. The villagers would proclaim one of their own as the Avatar of Sin and endlessly torture said Avatar, unloading all of their pent up anger, evil and sins onto the unlucky soul. He had been that unlucky person and as had been tradition, his body had been preserved through magic so they could continue to torture and torment him, his soul not allowed to leave his body. Simply put, he was unable to die.
However, once Sin had been defeated by Yuna and her friends, his fellow villagers decided to take pity on him and slowly allow him to die. Just as he was about to embrace death however, that final Sinscale had attached itself to him. It had been drawn to him like a moth to a flame; drawn to his suffering and his longing to cleanse the world. Once attached, it was all Sin needed to reform itself. However, it would soon find that its new host had quite a more powerful mind than Yu Yevon. His suffering and torture had given him a mind of steel that even Sin could not overpower. Thus, a more frightening creature had been born. A creature that had all the power and control of Sin, but the intellect and cunning of a human mind.
This new version of Sin soon restarted its goal of consuming humanity, but it quickly realized that so long as Yuna and her friend were around....Sin could be defeated again. Thus it began to plot and plan, it needed to lure Yuna and her friends to it and then separate them. Together they were too strong, but isolated...they could be defeated and corrupted in turn.
That was the trap Yuna and the others had fallen into. Once the ship was close enough, Sin had used its control of gravity to pull their ship down, making sure to scatter the pods as far from each other as possible. Once that was done, its focus turned towards Yuna.
The more human side of Sin now took over as he began to stalk the girl in the form of a humanoid-shaped shadowy void. He waited until he sensed the slight moment of hesitation from the girl; it was enough of a moment to strike. Four tentacle-like tendrils shot out from the void and lashed out at Yuna, striking at her hands and wrist to knock the guns out of her hands. Two of the tendrils wrapped around her ankles and two of them around her waist, immobilizing her as they rose in the air, suspending her a few feet above the ground.
"Yuuuunaaaaaa" A voice emerged from the void as a mouth appeared on the void, flashing what could only be described as a sinister smile. The voice itself was an amalgamation of every voice she had ever heard before; all of them together in a chaotic and pained way. One stood out though, and in a painful irony, it was the voice of Tidus. The void approached Yuna, its mouth opened and a long amphibious tongue uncoiled itself.
"Yuna...my destroyer, my creator, my foe and my lover...you are all these things to me" The voice chuckled as the tongue slowly licked up her neck and cheek, brushing briefly over her lips as it coated her skin in a slimy drool. The tendrils around her wrists and ankles tightened to insure she could not escape. Its hand reached forward and slowly groped one of her lovely breasts through her Gunner top. "So pure....and innocent. I will corrupt you until your mind is only full of lustful and sinful desires." The voice issued a booming laugh as it squeezed her breast harder, waiting to see how she would react.</s>
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Ganondorf entered the royal wing of Hyrule Castle with an exhausted sigh. He had just gotten done inspecting and drilling the new combined army of Hyrule which had come to include his original Gerudo forces as well as the original Hyrule army. It had been hard, but even since he and Zelda had been married, the two cultures were slowly but sure starting to meld together rather than fight and bicker. This was encouraged in a state that was rapidly becoming more militaristic and less peaceful due to Ganondorf's ambition.
Much like the Kingdom itself, his marriage to Zelda had its ups and downs. There were actual moments of passion and intimacy between them, but there were also conflicts and misunderstandings. It made for a turbulent but at times exciting marriage.
"Zelda...where are you?" Ganondorf's powerful voice rang out through the Royal Quarter. It was forbidden for anyone except the royal couple to be in here unless they were a servant performing a duty, so it was normally empty. There was their bedroom, a large bathroom with hot spring, and a large study/lounge room for them to enjoy. He hung his cloak up on a nearby rack as he waited for his wife to come out and greet him.
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Zelda sighed upon hearing her husband's booming voice, though she stood up anyway from her vanity and greeted him with a smile nonetheless. "I am right here, Ganondorf," she said curiously. It was clear that she had retired early today, as she was not wearing her normal, decorative hair pieces nor her crown. Her corset was already unlaced, indicating that soon she was about to change into more comfortable clothing. They had just started sharing a room together, truthfully it took months for her to trust him enough to not slit her throat in her sleep. Despite all the times they had made love, she still didn't feel quite comfortable, for Ganondorf was a large, hulking creature of a man and sometimes his temper got the better of him, and it scared her. However, she had seen other sides of him as well that indicated that he was not as evil as he made himself out to be in the past. He was ambitious, vengeful, yes, but...not evil.</s>
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The World of Tolkien
A brief introduction to the planet:
Tolkien is a swampy and densely forested wetland planet part of the Mid Rim Systems. The terrain itself is divided unevenly between different races within the Orc species. Within each race, there are tribes and clan leaders and differentiating cultural norms. However, one norm stays consistent throughout the entire planet - the more boorish looking you are, the more attractive and powerful you can become. A native species labeled under the umbrella term "Orcs" are the dominant creatures that inhabit this large and mysterious planet. Tolkien is ruled primarily between four main breeds of Orcs: Goblins, Gorguns, Uruks, and Orgres.
Goblins inhabit the Northlands. They are smaller in stature, averaging around 5 to 6 feet in height. They are mostly hairless and bald, and have long pointed ears and sharp noses. They are sneaky in nature; known as the tricksters of the Tolkien realm. They make up for their physical inferiority through their cunning inventions and intelligent pawns. They are currently lead by Gortru the Dementor.
Gorgunsihabit the Westlands - the biggest territory. They are the strongest of the races, physically. Though, they are not always the best masterminds. They are often out-smarted by Goblins, who although are weaker in stature, are innovative and therefore challenging to defeat. Gorguns' are defined by their big tusks, massive muscular bodies and big heads. They have small eyes that are normally spread apart, and most carry varying shades of green or brown skin with or without patterned markings. They are currently ruled by King Barok and his monarchy, the biggest enemy of Gortru.
Uruk's inhabit the Eastlands and other scattered colonies. They possess a unique physical trait; they have black or dark brown skin and long, dread-locked black hair. They are defined by their face paint and exceptional battle techniques. They are the fiercest warriors in the lands, and a large population of them are military nomads. They are the scavengers of Tolkien using their ferocity to exploit the planet's resources and take what they want. Although they are similar in stature to Goblins, they are the most vicious and blood thirsty of all the races. They have the smallest population, and are variously scattered across the Four Lands.
Ogres inhabit the Southlands, which consists of mainly sludge-filled trenches and not much greenery. They are the largest of the four races, towering at upwards of 9 feet tall; though, they are the dumbest. They have the biggest feet, the fattest stomachs, and the hardest swing, but the smallest of brains of the Orc species. They are the most primitive in nature, often fighting over stupidities among each other and constantly brawling. Because there are so many physical altercations, Ogres are typically seen with many scars (more than the average battle wounds). They are often called Trolls, though that is considered a derogatory term to Ogres.
Although each breed and separate kingdom possesses their own plot of territory, the Four lands are not divided evenly and are constantly changing. There is a on-going war primarily between the Goblins and the Gorguns, but also occasionally with the Uruks who are nomadic in nature and have set up colonies throughout ALL Four Lands. Aside from inter-breed turmoil, the nations are also plagued with civil war - many different tribes within singular breeds that form to attempt to take power. Because the Orcan civilization is so power hungry and violent, the planet faces constant warfare and chaos.
At My Mercy
Draped from head to toe, I was virtually unrecognizable among an ocean of raging Orcs. Nothing but my crystalline silver eyes remained definitive under my hood and veiled mask. I stood silently and obediently by the side of my masters; the King and Queen of the Mortus earldom. Although they sat comfortably, slouched in their tooth-embellished high chairs, I stood short two feet; inferior by their sides. With nothing but a platter of hog flesh ready at their disposal, I was nothing more than a decoration to them; barely a servant among their dozens of slaves. To the outside world, I acted as a symbol of the power of the Mortus monarchy. I was a prime example of the cruelties of the nation, both brute and barbaric in nature. Completely covered in drab rags and a sac over my head that spared only my eyes, I was deemed too frail for this population to look upon. To punish me for my physical differences, I was enslaved and ridiculed.
For I was deformed, and I was ugly.
As stormtroopers scoped the densely forested marshlands, there was virtually no sign of any living creature, much less an intellectual race. There were only bugs, and many of them; insects the size of Coruscant rats that flooded the humid atmosphere. There was a misty fog that rose several feet high from the swamps, making it difficult to see with enough clarity. Despite reduced visibility, there was one thing that guided the troops through the smog, and that was the sound of a muffled chanting. It was a combination of sounds that were hard to distinguish, though they were evidently coming from the near-distance. The distorted voices lead the scouts through the fog, and out towards a growing bright white light. The light shed from an opening in the forest. The further they traveled over the uneven crater grounds, the louder the voices appeared. Shortly, the troopers met the end the woods to a small splitcanyon. As they passed through it to meet the light, the opening revealed a heightened view. The scouts' boots now licked the edge of a cliff - the precipice diving down to form a large crater in the earth. The pit in the terrain was evidently formed from a past meteorite strike, though, the hole had been transformed into something much, much more. "Civilization has been established, Lord. You'vegotto see this."
The crowd cheered over and over again, sitting and standing encircled on the numerous stone steps of the coliseum. The battle arena was recycled from a crater in the surface of Tolkien, one that was big enough to fit a sizable ship. "MADMOCK! MADMOCK! MADMOCK!" The arena was packed with thousands of Orc-looking creatures that all stood and chanted with their fists up in the air. The ruckus came from not only their loud cries but also from the clanging of their axes and other weapons. The monstrous beings smacked their swords on shields, their axes against axes, and their other weapons against the cold stone seats below them. They had erupted into excitement, all of their eyes deadlocked on one specific target: an Orc male standing nearly 9 feet in height. He was exceptionally large, even bigger than the other Orcs that egged him on as he brooded over his victim. Madmock was massive, though, he was disfigured - leaning over with a big hunch and a twisted spine. He saw only from one eye, and he was pale; almost as white as a ghost while the other Orcs carried varying shades of green and brown to their skin. He had no tusks, like the others, and his skull was pieced together; indication of past physical trauma. Although he wore spiked armour, he needed only his heightened strength to force any being into submission. For the unfortunate female powerless at his total whim, she stood no chance. Although she screamed bloody murder as he scooped her naked body up into his arms, her smaller frame was destroyed as he took her from behind; completely defiling her femininity. She shrieked as her lower lips tore to her colon - a cry for help that echoed for miles and miles.
I cringed, turning my head slightly to the side as my master, King Barkok, burst out in laughter as the slave Orc girl screamed. He cheered on the creature he had trained as nothing more than a pet. Madmock, they called the monster.Madmock the Defiler. I could barely stomach the scene as I watched him nearly split her insignificant frame in two. Although she was a slave, she was a friend - and she ended up in this arena as a result of her supposed betrayal to the King.Treason- in this kingdom, it was punishable by sexual humiliation, degradation, anddeath. Madmock, the defiling mega-Orc who proceeded to rape the slave repeatedly, was a celebrity in the twisted minds of this society. He was big, muscular, and ruthless. Although he was famous, he was still a product owned by the King. Madmock was intellectually disabled, and often uncontrollable. As a result, the King kept him chained from the waist down - allowing his only outward movement to be within the confines of this arena. At the end of the defiling, he would retreat to his underground prison where he would continue to rot. He, too, was a decoration.
The slave's wailing ceased. Her voice's silence was indicative of her death. Turning my head back around to face reality, she lay lifeless on the ground, her head crushed in the jaws of the monster as she bled out over the battle grounds. Enough ejaculate to fill a woman a dozen times over again now remained spewing out of her and onto the ground. The crowd went wild. Alas, the enemy had been punished, and the beast felt his unfathomably vicious urges met. However, the beast in my eyes was not Madmock, it was King Barkok. The man was cruel in ways that could be imagined. Although this scene was gruesome, it did not match the cruelty many faced, including and especially myself, at the hands of his mastery. Thinking all of this was over, I breathed a deep sigh of relief; wanting to retreat back to the shack I called home. However, the King had a different idea. He stood from his throne, advancing to the very edge of his platform as he reached out his hands to speak to his people. "My fellow Gorguns...!" He announced to the crowd, his deep rumbling voice traveling throughout the coliseum to silence his followers. "For many months, the Goblins have been gaining advantageous information. For many months, the Goblins have had the upper hand against the fight for these lands. But now... This favor ENDS NOW!" There were grunts throughout the Orcs in agreement and triumph. "The snitch has finally been disposed of..." He waved towards the decapitated slave. "... But the justice does not end here." The King's first lady motioned for me to serve the King. Confused, I moved forward anyway with the tray and greeted the King by his side. "THERE IS A SECOND FINK!" The area was filled with gasps. My eyes widened slightly as the information even shocked me. "And she stands here among us. She stands here... beside us." His head slowly turned to face me.
"WHAT!?No!" My fingers loosened around the tray and it fell from my hands. It crashed against the stone floors at my feet, but before I had a chance to defend myself, King Barkok grabbed my upperarm and tossed me over the balcony. He snatched the material from the cloak which veiled my entire body. As I was sent overboard, I screamed and plummeted onto the platform several feet below. Raising my head after the fall, I lay sprawled like a broken woman as the crowd flared into anger. Raising my head from my compromised position, I looked upon the ground surrounding me to find complete and utter disgust."She's hideous!""Burn it with fire!" "Kill the betrayer!" Madmock the Defiler licked his blood-stained lips as he approached me. I was even tinier than the last thin slave. And like him, I was pale - completely discolored in the eyes of Gorguns. I panicked at the whim of this monster as I faced completely false accusations at the hands of the King. I turned around, looking up at him as I peeled my remarkably thin frame off the ground. Why had the King forsaken me? The Queen looked down upon me like I was filth; her wife at her side sneering with the most evil and sadistic of smiles as she glared down at me. This was surely her idea. I could see it in her face. She had grown too jealous of her husband's favoring of me. If there was anyone who would frame me, it was certainly her.
"I have placed our enemy where she belongs, Iron Hoard!" He shouted out to the scalding Gorguns. "On her knees! ... At our mercy!!!!" While the crowd went wild, Madmock sprinted into pursuit - beelining right for me with the most savage look in his eyes. "No, no!" I bounced up from my knees, scrambling in the opposite direction as to get away from this raging beast. But, on foot, I stood no chance; I was no match. Within moments he snatched me with one hand, instantly moving the other to tear off the single-rag of clothing that hid my entire body. With one quick pull, the entire robe tore to pieces, leaving me bare in front of him in nothing but a skimpy, provocative slavebikini. Madmock licked his chapped lips, his eyes filling with desire as he slithered out his slime-ridden tongue and rolled it over the side of my face like an animal. I squirmed and groaned in his grasp. "You disgusting pig-" Before he could make any further violations, my hand dropped to my pelvis. Tucked away in the strap of my bikini bottoms, buried nearly between my legs, was a hand-held blade. King Barkok subsequently spotted the concealed weapon, and jutted out forward with his hands outreached. There was immediate panic within him. "MADMOCK-!" He shouted out, helpless and nearly whimpering and he felt the impending doom of his beloved pet.
Within a split second, I drew the dagger from my hip and swung it around as hard as I could. I aimed for the one target I knew I could hit - his face. Before Madmock could even fathom the danger to come, the sharp jagged end of the knife slammed right into his only-functioning eyeball. The creature shrieked, taking an unbalanced step back as the blade sunk so deep into his socket, it struck his brain. He wailed as the pain consumed him, no longer able to focus on the target before him. His grip around my waist loosened and I slipped right out of his palms. Although the jab at his eye did not kill him, it did however slow him down. Far most, it blinded him completely, allowing me an advantage against this boorish creature nearly twice my height and 4 times my mass. "No!!!" The King cried out, but it was too late. I already had the advantage.
The moment I hit the ground, I sprung into action. In such a dire situation, adrenaline pumped through my veins, allowing me the stamina to do what I had to do. If I were to survive this hell hole, I needed to defile the defiler - and I had no time to waste. Without a second to spare, I lunged toward one of the many chains that held him to this arena. Gripping the heavy metal with two hands, I began to run around Madmock - encircling his legs and tangling him in chains as he held his face. Bleeding profusely, he remained blind, confused and dazed.
I grabbed more chains, throwing them around his arms and running around him again to further mesh him in his own restraints. Finally, I grabbed one of the thinner, loose chains and used all of my inferior might to toss it over his head and noose it around his neck like a rope. Grunting out at the top of my lungs, I pulled as hard as I could on the chains, knocking the beast off balance and causing him to begin to wobble. Seeing this minute victory, I took a deep breath and shouted, "I will place your beast where he belongs!"
The King, completely wide-eyed and jaw-dropped, leaned over the banister to witness this historical take down. With a single, heavy-handed haul, I used all of my weight and adrenaline to register and devastating blow. I ripped Madmock right off of his feet, the strain on his neck from the pulling rendering him unsteady. I screamed, keeping a strong hold on the chains as he came tumbling down. Madmock collapsed onto his shins, moaning as he struggled to squirm his way out of the net I had created from chains. Regardless of his failed attempts, I threw myself onto his back and looked up at the King with a most devious frown. Hovering my hand over the blade that still protruded from the creature's terminated eye, I finished my maxim. Snatching the dagger right from his socket, I slammed the weapon right into the monster's jugular. There was a shriek beyond volumes - echoing with fury several miles out; Madmock's last yell sounding more like a demon's roar than it did a cry. Within seconds, the beast's squirms began to cease. His body withered underneath mine, as the battle arena's floor became stained with the pool of the Defiler's spilling blood.
"... On his KNEES!" I shouted out, my voice so intense in its delivery echoed throughout the arena. "... At...MY... mercy!!!"The crowd went silent.
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Deep below the arena, within a small cell made of three walls of stone and one wall of iron, with a heavily armored guard wielding a morning star outside sat a lone human among two dozen orcs also in the cage... "Outlander" they called him, the few other non-orcs there referred to him as "Offworlder" though his name was not important. Months in the cage had left his skin pale, his eyes sunken, his head bald exposing intricate patterns of tattoos across the top of his head. He leaned against the rear stone wall, his knees pressed up to his chest, his wrists laying on his knees with his hands hanging down. As the crowd above went silent and the echoes ceased, so too did the chattering of the imprisoned cease, till finally, from a young male, barely a teenager next to the human whispered "Madmock... dead?" Soon these words were echoed by others, the human remained silent. The tone went from timid, fearful of saying those two words together, yet slowly, it became louder and louder, the inmates began stomping their feet in unison, in beat with the two-word chant "Madmock dead! Madmock dead!" The human however remained silent, yet not unmoving. Across his face, a grim smirk began to emerge, the human looked up, exposing his bright blue eyes to the small beam of light which penetrated into his cell... "Well well well..." He glanced to the guard as he slowly got to his feet, he walked to the bars and looked the guard in the eye: "I'd like to see the victor." The guard responded by slashing his morning star across the bars. "SIT DOWN!" he barked viciously. The human didn't budge. "I wish to see her... alone," he droned with a slight wave of his hand. The guard didn't obey, instead slashing his weapon across the bars again. "DOWN OR YOU'RE NEXT!" The human chuckled. "I'd like that, just say when," he said, turning back around and slumping down the bars, sitting like he was before. Under his breath, he let out a slight murmur: "Ikath mthaghn, Chulhuka faphn." He droned on in a tongue none other could understand.
As the new prisoner was brought underground to the cells, bound and muzzled like a wild animal before the cages, the inmates began going wild, males reached out from their cells, mercilessly groping her as she was forced down the thin corridor between the cells. One would fondle her crotch while another pulled at the coverings over her breasts, yet no matter how much they attempted to violate her with their hands, she was forced to keep moving. Every time she slowed, she would be jabbed with the cold sharp steel of the guard's spear in her back, moving her ever towards the female cells. As she passed by the one with the human, he looked up to her, turning his head to face her and giving her a smile and a word: "You did good, kid." She didn't have time to respond as another orc male reached out through the bars, going straight under the cloth covering her ass and slipping a finger inside for a brief second. None of the other prisoners would be punished; after all, who cares if some slaves destined to die fighting each other decided to rape the new meat? If anything, that would just give the guards some entertainment.
As they passed by one of the guards came up behind her, on his regular rounds, he almost whispered, "The outlander wants to see you." As soon as he said it, the other guard escorting her smacked him with the side of the spear: "What!? Why do you care?" The guard with the morning star shrugged and continued walking as if nothing had happened, yet clearly confused... why did he tell her that?
Finally, they got past the male cages. Yet the female cages weren't much better; still, the hands shot through the bars, still she was groped, smacked, threatened to be raped. Now, however, the jeers and calls from other prisoners also included the prisoners calling her ugly and scum. Her cell was right at the end of the hall, a small cell on the right. In an act of small mercies, it was only inhabited by a single other inmate: another female with half her face covered in bandages, both of her legs severed at the knees, and one arm quite clearly torn from her shoulder by brute force. The new cellmate looked up: "So... you killed Madmock? Not bad for a disfigured little freak like you. If I still had my limbs, I'd probably kill you myself to show how weak that beast truly was. But as it is, I guess I should be thanking you."</s>
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Okay, so the place didn't look all that shady. That did make some sense: if you were going to run a secret brothel/sex house then you probably wouldn't want it tolooklike that sort of thing, right? You'd want it to pretty well blend in and just be part of the sort of overall place and all. It was even in the Rain Forest district and everything, which, let's face it, might as well be called the party district of Zootopia.
Still, according to street information, this was the place. The small rabbit paused outside the door to confirm, double-checking her pad and tapping it a few more times. Various notes had been scrawled in her overly hasty hand, with the title circled several times, as well as a handful of other names. The rabbit pursed her lips ,feeling her tail twitching slightly. They thought that, yet again, this wasn't a great place for her to check out. Heck, Nick had even suggested that "Carrots" not check this out.It's not the place for a cute little bunny. They'd eat you up in there.
"Ha!"Judy Hopps laughed aloud, her ears twitching and her lips pulling up in a smirk. Who'd uncovered the big predator scheme? Oh right, her. And who had been one of the first to realize she was wrong and save the entire force from a major PR problem? Right again: Judy Hopps. She could definitely handle a little sex ring in an exotic dance club. Okay, so she obviously couldn't dress in her standard uniform, which felt really freaking strange to her. Research had shown that something casual would be a good move, but obviously Judy's fallback of flannel and jeans wouldn't work either. So she opted for a nice pair of black tights that clung to her body pretty well. Her footpads extended out the bottom, as bare as ever. There was, of course, a little hole for her fluffy tail, which she'd made certain to fluff out a little more. The loose pink crop-top even left some belly to show, with the white and gray fur mixing spectacularly. She'd drawn the line at piercing anything to look like a club goer.
"Right, so, I enter,' she said to herself as she walked forward. "I view the dancers and see about one on this list,' she tapped it, frowning. "And I try and make them see that I'm interested in perhaps doing something more. Since I'm a cute little bunny," she smirked at that, "they'll lap it up," she strode forward, tucking the notepad into hiding. Judy certainly didn't have to duck to enter the club.
The place looked, well, like an exotic dance club in the rain forest district. Dim lighting that emphasized greens and reds. A few stages that were set up, at least one with poles (that made Judy's nose wrinkle). A quick look confirmed a good mix of clientele. There were a surprisingly high number of prey, more than Judy would have figured. All the workers seemed to be predators, which didn't seem to bother anyone. Judy knew not to judge, though she could still feel the fight against her reflexes.
She stopped at a counter, exchanged some money for a lot of smaller bills, and tucked them into the front of her shirt. Judy should've opted for a wire, but she needed stronger proof of what was going on and that she could do it. Judy quietly asked for one of the star performers, leaning forward and saying that she was feeling a little... "Rabbity." There had been a smirk, and Judy had been directed toward a particular stage, where one of the "star" attractions would be performing. Judy took a seat near the front, ordering some spiked carrot juice and waiting, pretending like her feet weren't twitching as she looked around.
The place kinda smells like heatshe thought absently.But that could just be the dancing, right?
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Truth be told, more than a few people, patrons and dancers alike, had glanced Judy's way as she passed by. The club was no stranger to prey patrons, of course, but cute fluffy bunnies were definitely a rarity. Prey that came here could usually at least meet eye level with the performers but rabbits looked as if they could be swallowed whole by the dancers or split in half, depending on your perverted mindset. And it didn't help that Judy was famous. Zootopia's top cop who had saved the whole city. The lighting of the club and Judy's change of attire did help to keep her identity a secret. But every now again someone would murmur 'Hey isn't that-' before their words would be washed away by the throb of addictive music.
Not too long after Judy took a seat, the voice of the MC broke through the cacophony."Alright ladies, I think I know why you all came here tonight. He's been our star attraction three months running, and he sure knows how to make a girl howl!" Fog machines misted pale white steam onto the entryway at the far end of the stage, dull red spotlights falling onto the curtain to outline rather... large and imposing silhouette.
"The one, the only, Titan!"
Titan seemed an appropriate moniker for the tiger that strode confidently onto the stage, and it was a name that had been murmured by the few aroused voices who spoke of this club. He was towering, broad shouldered, and his orange and black stripes gleamed brilliantly in the light following him around.
Titan was also an appropriate descriptor of whatever he was packing in that tight thong of his. A great chunk of meat that wasn't even hard.
"Hello ladies," he said in a low, enticing purr. He gripped the pole at the center of the stage and spun around in one fluid motion, the flex of his powerful muscles eliciting a few whoops and cheers from his enthusiastic audience.</s>
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Dexter's mom, or Diana, as she preferred to be called, felt unappreciated by her family. Her "so-called" husband was always busy at work, barely ever had time for her, whereas her kids were too busy hanging out with their friends that they didn't have time to hangout with their mom. Hell, all she ever did was clean the house and stay home! Sick and tired of staying home all the time, Diana decided she needed a vacation for herself! Therefore she packed up a duffel bag of clothes and all necessities, left a note for her family informing them that she was going on vacation. She didn't bother to tell them when she was coming back!
It wasn't as if it mattered anyways! They probably wouldn't even care or notice she was gone. Sexually deprived because the sex she had with her husband lacked passion or lust, masturbation and sex toys were overused. Though they never satisfied her completely. It only left her wanting more!
Ridiculous, really! Diana was ashamed to admit this but she needed a man with stamina, someone who could pleasure her in ways her husband thought impossible. Often, in this case, Diana would just stick with masturbation, however she was in desperate need of a man. Diana knew thinking about having sex with other men besides her own husband was unforgivable, but she couldn't help herself.
Unsure what to do, Diana decided to forget about it for now and enjoy her vacation as much as possible. Once she finally arrived at the airport, she got checked in, went through security to get her luggage checked before boarding the plane. Diana slept through the entire plane ride until she was awakened by the female flight attendant who informed her that they had reached their destination. She politely asked her to leave her seat.
Standing up from her seat, Diana rubbed her eyes groggily, walked out of the plane, retrieved her luggage at the baggage reclaim area, once she got her luggage, she dragged her duffel bag and left the airport. On the way there, a pickpocket stole her money unknowingly when someone bumped into her. She discovered her money was gone after checking into the resort. To make matters even worse, when she left to go to the lavatory, she asked receptionist to watch her luggage while she went to restroom, only to find that her luggage had been stolen as well!
"Fuck, what else can possibly go wrong today?" Diana growled out in frustration and sighed heavily.
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Hank walked into the lobby of the Resort. Having spent the last few weeks out on an assignment that nearly cost him his life, he had decided to take some time off and relax. Instead of the camo pants he normally wore he opted for shorts, but kept the tank top as he looked around before walking towards the reception desk. He could see and hear the red-headed woman there having a back and forth with the employee. As he walked up he couldn't help but let his eyes wander down to her derriere...
*dear god...* he thought to himself before looking ahead and meeting another receptionist. He proceeded to begin his check in for a room, occasionally looking over at the woman next to him. He wanted to let his eyes wander again but other guests had begun lining up behind them to wait.
"Hank". "Yes". "You know what, can I upgrade the bed to King size?" He continued his check in.</s>
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The Warp. The swirling unending sea of raw chaos that lay just behind the face of reality.
The Vile Garden of Nurgle. Home to every disease ever known and more, where the Dark Grandfather of Sickness holds court in a rotten mansion.
A Burning Wake. A barren, purified scar that now stretches throughout the realm of death.
The Maiden Knight, the result of thousands of years of labor, and the countless souls of the most devoted of Isha's warrior-priestesses.
For so long, this amalgam of souls has burned its way across the Warp, slaying all in its way, demon, cultist, and lost soul alike. Now they stand at the gates of Hell itself, ready to do whatever it takes to free the Mother Goddess. With a sickening groan, the door opens ponderously, rusted hinges creaking.
Inside waits something not even the wisest of Farseers could have foreseen. A horde of Slaneeshii demons, a wriggling, writhing mass of vibrant flesh violently indulging in each other. An endless cacophony of lilting, unnatural moans fills the air as every kind of imaginable carnal horror takes place. Worst of all, the souls of fallen Eldar are scattered about, enduring mind-searing agony.
Closest to the entrance, two Keepers of Secrets thrust their tree-trunk sized cocks into the ruined holes of two once-proud Eldar warriors. Their eyes are rolled back, their bodies twisted and broken to accommodate the rabid demons. With a ground-shaking roar, one of the Keepers reached his climax, his fuckpuppet's face twisting into a shattered mask of confusion and horror, her mind broken long ago. With each hard thrust into her gaping cunt, the demon shoots another load of tainted spunk, filling her, pouring out around its cock and causing the eldar's belly to expand horrifically, the dark magick of She-Who-Thirsts keeping her from ripping open.
Others were not given the same protection, judging by the piles of vaguely humanoid meat being devoured and ravaged by hordes of demonettes.
This was impossible! Why would the oldest and the youngest ever work together? How could the spawn of She-Who-Thirsts even exist here? No matter, they must succeed, even more so now when unimaginable suffering and degradation surely awaits both them and their goddess should they fail.
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Time flowed unpredictably within the warp and only those beings born into the place could truly understand its nature. It was pure chaos, flowing forwards and backwards at the same time, where nothing was certain beyond the realms of the gods.
When the Maiden Knight stood at the garden's gates, she stood in defiance of the odds. Countless dead demons lay in the great avatar's wake, yet as they had died, the path she'd blazed had become clear, and it wasn't so hard for the dark prince of pleasure to realize where she must be going. A thousand souls kept from her grasp by those fragile little constructs housed in that beautiful shell.
Nurgle had been all too willing to grant them access in exchange for a portion of them since so many went to She-Who-Thirsts to begin with, and more to test his many gifts upon would be greatly welcome.
Against one god, there could only have been victory. Against two, there was no hope for anything but failure.
The Greater Daemons did not even bother to cease their thrusting, as they leaped at the Maiden Knight, two arms continuing the work of bracing the mind-broken warriors against their ravaging while the other four reached for her, some swinging blades, others simply grasping, reaching, groping, tearing coverings and teasing flesh with both pleasure and pain. Blows that would fell any mortal could not fell the Knight, and so they held nothing back, surrounding her, trying to lift her up and impale her.
Meanwhile, hot on the greater beings' heels daemonettes and nurglings alike surged around the Knight, plucking at the hundreds of soulstones they could reach, and for every hundred or thousand that failed it was inevitable that the occasional one would succeed, plucking a crimson gem away and crushing it to manifest an untainted Eldar Warrior's soul, each one of whom was instantly swarmed by more shrieking demons...</s>
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Maker's fucking balls! Where the hell were they?
Indigo hadn't had the fortune of experiencing time travel before, or even the knowledge of thereof. So when that slippery eel, Erimond, threw out the amulet, her first reaction was to deflect whatever spell he wanted to inflict on them - a curse or something equally as nasty. What she hadn't expected was for it to open up a gaping portal, one that was distinctively different than any time they had been in the Fade (like about five minutes ago that ended in Hawke pushing her indignant behind out before him), and then... Then...
They were here. Indigo had no idea where exactly they really were; with its sour milk palette throwing a somber atmosphere on everything and the massive Breach in the sky now literally everywhere. Around them was the shifting sands that restlessly erased any distinctive landmarks they could have tried to guess at - not like there were many anyways. Just worn-away ruins that could belong anywhere, and that only baffled the Fereldan Warden-Commander even more. She had traveled to many places, experienced many spells, but never had she felt this particular tinge of magic. It left her uneasy instead of sick the way red lyrium affected the Wardens, and what was even more frightening was that the false Calling was completely gone - silent.
So, Indigo had every right to curse in Andraste's lily-white ass what the fuck had happened. She had always been a restless soul, a firey wisp who flickered here and there without rest, and as soon as the Grey Warden had reclaimed her feet underneath her again, she was already moving. Not far, of course, but at least it would give her some semblance of bearing - hopefully. And the selfish part of her just wanted to clear her head from the rush of events that tumbled together just hours ago first in Adamant Fortress, then in the Fade, and now, who knows where. She needed time to breathe, to let her mind catch up with her restless body, and with an deep aching in her chest, recalling that every time something momentous that consumed her attention, Alistair would probably have swept her up into his arms to stop her from moving - he always did. The big rascal of a man laughed at her too, always got his fingers onto her sides to make the usually hot-tempered Warden-Commander yelp and giggle as if they were young careless kids once again. By fire and Blight, she wished Alistair was here. He always brought out the best of her, always knew when she was about to break under the weight of the world, and she was completely unashamed to boldly state that he was her sun - a constant bright presence always there by her side.
There was no sun in the sky any more though. Just swirling clouds of the Fade and eerily broken chunks of the previous incorporeal world stabbing jagged points into this one.
Whatever happened, wherever they are, Alistair wasn't here. She was the one who sent him off far to the west to follow one of the cure's leads, after all; told him to only come back when their lead was nothing or if she sent a raven to him. Of course he argued with her, and she with him, but in the end, they both knew that one of them had to go while the other remained to investigate the corruption within the Warden ranks. It only seemed fitting that the Warden-Commander would remain with her people while the Warden-Constable would have more freedom to investigate beyond their jurisdiction. But now, just having Alistair away seemed like the worst decision she ever made. Perhaps it was the stress of the day, the bewilderment of being so utterly devoid of any answers, or just the culmination of suddenly missing her husband so acutely, but it all came crashing down in the form of tears silently splashing dark dots onto the white sands. She did not sob though; just the slight shaking of her wiry lean body as she used her staff to climb a nearby sand dune. It had been some time since she had last cried, and seemingly alone, it was a crack in her armor before the tears were roughly wiped away on her sleeve.
Then, she looked up, and what - no, who, she saw in front of her was someone she never expected to see. For a moment, Indigo thought she was seeing illusions, considering her eyes were still slightly watery, and then her next thought turned to that of demons. Could it be that this was a Desire demon, having easily broken through the Fade, only to manifest as Alistair in front of her? She dared not to believe that it was true, and her training was instantaneous in the way she stopped right in her tracks and lightning crackled dangerously on her staff."Halt! Stay back, demon!"she yelled out hoarse, not daring to hope that it was really Alistair... Because...How?
A fair distance away, fate did not smile kindly upon Leliana in these dark futures. In the previous one, she had been tortured, her body seemingly aged past her years, but this one was no better. The demons that surrounded her cackled, the various types trying to brush up against the former Spymaster to break her indomitable will. Waves of terror, anger, fear, and despair rushed through her mind, making her tense against where she was being hanged by her wrists - helpless. Her mind had long exhausted any options of escaping without them tearing her to pieces, but she continued to steadily run the Chant of Light through her mind. No foul demon claws running up against the chain mailed shape of her form would distract her, not even as the silent Reverent who had formerly lingered in the distance finally approached.
"You will break, little bird. The Elder One has given you to us for our pleasure and amusement,"the demon rumbled out, its grisly visage smiling in what could only be described in sadistic glee. The Nightingale did not miss the way its hellish gaze raked up her body, nor the way it allowed the blade of its sword to touch on her inner thigh. But she was still stoic, giving a barking laugh in return.
"I would rather die first."
The Reverent merely widened its smile as with a careless clang, its shield dropped - and the sword followed onto the ground."You will be screaming for death by the time we are finished with you,"it growled out before surging upon her, cold hands sliding hungrily underneath metal and cloth to seek out the warm flesh underneath. All Leliana could do was pray now.
Though darkness closes, I am shielded by flame. Andraste, guide me. Maker, take me to your side.
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Things had not been going well recently for Alistair; not that things normally went well for him to begin with, but somehow, things had gotten worse. For starters, he received a raven that his wife and love of his life, Indigo, had been sucked into some kind of portal at Redcliffe. Indigo was Alistair's foundation, the rock upon which the rest of his life was built. She meant the world to him, and as soon as he received the news he raced back to try and hunt her down, only to discover his homeland had been torn apart by the Fade and demons.
He had rallied what few Wardens he could and together with the remnants of the Inquisition and other various armies and forces, they found the castle of Skyhold and sought refuge from the growing chaos. It was a desperate struggle, one in which the allied forces had come close to completely losing on a number of occasions, but they still clung to hope.
For Alistair, it was the hope of finding Indigo. Just the thought of her kept him going, he knew she had to be out there somewhere. He just happened to be on patrol today when he spotted a portal open up near Skyhold. He rushed towards it, prepared to fight the demon that emerged from it, only to find a familiar figure.
"Indigo?" His tone was one of disbelief and shock...after all, how could she just pop out like that? That isn't how the world worked...well, how the world normally worked. He wondered if rules even applied anymore. Still, he was caught off guard when she shouted at him and he even noticed her eyes were watery. His eyes narrowed as he drew his sword and pointed it at her.
"Oh, no no. I'm no demon, your the demon here, and you really even not a good one at that," Alistair pointed out, still in his normal aloof and joking tone. "I mean, here you are, an Envy demon most likely, right? One of the most powerful, and you can't even get the details of Indigo right!" He began to complain as he tapped his foot. "I mean, for starters, she would never cry, ever...and not only that, but you are about a head too tall, demon. Indigo is at least a few inches shorter than that, last I check." He commented on her height with a laugh, almost like he was baiting her.
The Reverent laughed as he heard Leliana praying. "Foolish little bird....your Marker and Savior cannot hear you here. Only the Elder One has power here, and you will soon pray to him." He chuckled as his cold hands slithered up her smooth stomach and towards her perky and sizable breasts currently contained by her cloth and chainmail. His digits squeezed, her flesh molded to the form of his digits as some of his fingers sought out her nipples and began to twist and tug on them.
Leliana's mental defenses had been worn down because of the constant pressure of the various demons, as such, it was easier for the lust and desire to slip in unnoticed beneath her prayers. The groping and the touching, which should have felt disgusting and cold to her, instead made her body feel like it was on fire. It made her heart pound and her face flush as she felt way more pleasure from the simple act of groping than she should have.
A long, snake-like tongue uncoiled from the Reverent's mouth and began to slowly lick up Leliana's tongue, painting a path up her smooth neck with his saliva, leaving a wet and hot trail. His tongue brushed against her cheek and was soon pressing against her lips for a few brief moments as he groped her again. Not only that, but a rather large bulge was also starting to pressing against her crotch too...certainly the largest she had ever felt.
As all the sensations assailed her though, they soon stopped, leaving her wanting. His tongue and hands withdrew and he stepped back, grinning at her as he licked his lips. He knew the desire and lust was slowly starting to eat at her. He snapped his fingers and the bounds that held her suspended in the air shattered, freeing her. She was by no means free though. Surrounded by so many demons, she would be slaughtered if she tried to escape.
"Now then, strip for us, little bird." The Reverent spoke again, his voice loud, dominant and commanding, but also, to Leliana's ears...strangely attractive? In any case, the command sent a wave of pleasure through her as all the demons watched and waited to see how she would respond.</s>
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Coughing up blood into his hand, Charles stumbled forward down the road as he held his shotgun loosely at his side. The arm was useless because of the shot he had taken to the shoulder, but he had managed to tie his shotgun to his hand. He still had enough feeling in his fingers that he could pull trigger if need be, but every step felt harder and he wondered if he could actually survive until the next settlement. The whole meeting he had set up with some men who claimed to have key cards needed to get inside an Old World US Army weapons cache, but instead it had turned out to be an ambush. Somehow they had figured out what Charles was really after, and wanted his information instead. Frankly, they had underestimated him, and now lay out in the dirt with their brains blown out. Still, they had given him a few broken bones, a shot to the shoulder, and some mild internal injury that Charles considered the least of his worries as long as the bullet could be removed before he got an infection in that area.
Noticing a building ahead with a satellite dish on top, Charles muttered to himself through thirst-cracked lips, "It can't be." Before he could even get a better look though, a wave of dizziness overtook him, and he yelled out in pain as it was his injured shoulder that caught his fall. Gritting his teeth, he pushed himself up and crawled the last few feet to the wall of the compound and rested against it breathing hard as he inspected his surroundings. Only breathing a sigh of relief when he realized that he had not attracted any attention, but cursed his foolishness for not bring stim packs or at least some medical supplies. At least he had not forgotten to bring food and water, reaching behind him he pulled some pure water out and took a sip of the irradiated drink, and sighed with a smile, staring out towards the sun in the distance as he began to figure that this might not be such a place to die if it came down to it. Still there was no reason to go down that easy so trying his best Charles used the wall behind himself to prop his body up as he stood.
It was to no avail as he ended up slipping back down again, chuckling at the ironic nature of the situation. Here he was on the edge of finding the treasure he had been seeking, and well, death might just have his life before then. His only luck was that the entrance to this place seemed to be along the roadways which people traveled. So maybe he would encounter a good Samaritan today? Reaching up, he toyed with the strange golden locket he wore around his neck that was shaped like a heart wearing a little top hat. Yes, maybe he could hope against hope.
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Zipping up her suit after taking a moment to drain the hose, those heels clicked along the broken street as she meets back up with the team.
Victoria - " Syde, Where are we and how much further?" Syde blew his nose only to point up the road to an old bunker, but before they could continue the team heard someone yell out in pain. Victoria made the team push on to the target location as she inspected the sound, with her weapon at hand she pushed along a stone wall, her heeled boots stop as she squats down looking at the ground to inspect the blood drops. "Fresh" - she said under her painted black glossy lips. Standing up she follows the blood and wondering what poor fool had died this day. To the end of the trail at the back end of the compound she finds him, a small man, wounded, and on his last breath it seems.
Victoria- " Well, well, well... look what we have here, that is a nasty gun wound, and you seem to be dehydrated as well, the question is do you want to live?" The lady of Steel walks closer inspecting the man as she squats with both legs open before him, her bulge stretching the suit she had on as well as her perfect chest, Victoria moved her jet black hair out of her face to examine the man. Placing the heavy flamer to the side, her soft blue eyes stare at the wound as her hands with black painted nails sharpened like claws reach for his shirt to rip open more what the gun shot had left, seeing the wound and moving a hand under his jaw line she slaps him. Victoria - "Hey you alive or do I just leave you here?" Her eyes where more blue than they should be only to the fact that the eyeliner and eye shadow made it so.
Victoria's hands played with the man's hair moving it from his face to see if he would give one last breath or word... she waited for a response at the same time he could feel her hands searching him for anything useful. "Shame I found you like this, you look cute, would be a damn shame to see such a thing like you go to waste like this." -He could feel her hand run up his inner thigh and groping his crotch, which seemed to spark the man alive...</s>
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Harry Potter was a special child. Destined to be the Chosen One, to stop the terrifying monster that was Lord Voldemort. Yet how much of that story was true? How much of that story was destiny? Was any of it? Or was it all orchestrated by one twisted old man with a superiority complex? No one wondered if prophesy was all a load of bull, since they all wanted hope to cling onto. And that hope was in the form of the Boy Who Lived.
It was a nice, sunny day at the Burrow, the residence of the Weasleys, when Dumbledore apparated the young Harry Potter to his makeshift home. Living with the Dursleys was never much fun, and the Weasleys always treated him like one of their own. With a loving smile, Mrs Weasley welcomes Harry into her home, a bone-crushing hug being the norm.
As the raven-haired boy disappeared upstairs, still quite distressed about the loss of his Godfather, Sirius Black, his friend Ronald appeared from behind the corner.
"Professor Dumbledore, sir?" The redhead said, a little uncertainty in his voice. "Can we talk for a moment?" The request came, and the elderly fellow nodded with a small laugh. "Of course, my boy. And please, call me Albus." With the suggestion that they enter his father's shed, with the various Muggle equipment laying around, the odd pair was off for an obviously private conversation.
"You promised I would have her by now!" Ron stormed angrily, his face bright red as they entered the shed. "It's not fair. That prissy mudblood bitch should be grovelling at my feet right now, sucking my cock," he said, his face holding a dreamy look for a moment before shaking out of it. "I've been keeping up my end of the bargain like you asked. I've been a nice friend to the Potter prick, but now I want what's mine!" He finished, his face matching his hair.
"Quiet Ronald! You don't want anyone to hear you. Now... I intended Mr. Potter to die by Tom's hand at the Ministry, but he was much stronger willed than I anticipated. I even used a mild Cruciatus curse on him, but he relented still." Dumbledore sighed. "We are all missing out Ronald. Miss Weasley hasn't been able to give Harry her love potion yet. I haven't gotten the fame and fortune, so I think you can wait a few more weeks for that mudblood slut..." He suggested.
Dumbledore was a powerful man, so crossing him was not advised.
"Yes sir," he sighed in defeat.
"Good. Now, I have made you and Miss Granger the Head Students a year early this year. This will give you two the master suite. I don't need to know what you'll be doing to that mudblood, just make sure she's still alive."
"Yes sir," Ron said again. A few minutes later, the conversation was finished.
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Harry? Her heart reaching out to the raven-haired boy, Hermione was about to go after him when she caught wind of a different voice, familiar though uncertain. Wild, caramel brown curls fell about her shoulders, framing the graceful curve of her jawline, she decided that it'd probably be best to leave Harry alone at least for now. He needs time, and she'll give it to him; they'll both give it to him.
Professor Dumbledore and Ron went into the small, rickety shed just a stone's throw away, which only made things stranger. What could Ron possibly have to talk about that he needs privacy?
Intrigued and curious despite herself, Hermione moved in closer, about to reach out and open the door when she heard the first words. It cut through the silence like a Cruciatus Curse, or worse, Avada Kedavra. "You promised I would have her by now!" Hermione flinched, only for suspicion to set in seconds later. It's not fair. That prissy mudblood bitch should be grovelling at my feet right now, sucking my cock.
Disgusted now, Hermione listened into the conversation pieces finally falling into place. It all makes sense. From the very beginning, Professor Dumbledore orchestrated Harry's life, all their lives. It can't be just a coincidence that so many years ago, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named went after Harry, killing his parents that fateful night. He meant for Harry to die, though? Why? For fame? Fortune? Hermione can understand the reasons, but that doesn't mean she condones it, by any means.
Nearly frozen in place, the girl forced her feet to move. Mrs. Weasley was in the kitchen, waving her wand and having a whisk stir pancake batter. More than likely, Mr. Weasley is getting ready for a day at the Ministry, and as for everyone else well, she can only guess. Hermione didn't waste any time considering it, though. A storm of emotions going off in her chest, the girl ran up the several flights of stairs, bursting through the door with a great big gasp. "Harry! You have to hear this!"
Shaken, Hermione hurried and closed the door behind her.
Ron and Professor Dumbledore planned everything! Hermione began with. Once she took a seat on his bed, she relayed the conversation she just overheard, leaving nothing out.</s>
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