#also... upturned (?) fangs!!!!!

[charlie-ver]

tiefling design era

if you like them

and you have twenty bucks (which I hope is a fair price?? I generally try to make the designs worth it and more)

watch out

im

working

and have many ideas

here's one ((: i think they're cool. Wanted to drop into like an eastern dragon design? I need to make some of them afab / generally need to dip into more variety with bodies bc I just default to masculine designs LOL

[hvacfucker]

Ok NSFW but Hector is ABSOLUTELY into temperature play. Blindfolding his partner and then playing with ice cubes/hot wax on their body, watching goosebumps form and their skin flush... And since it's basically an extension of his toying with the temperature of the house, he'd be a natural at it 🙂‍↕️

Edit: Now includes versions with she/her, he/him, they/them pronouns. Anatomy specified accordingly!

LMFAOAOA the literal HVAC being into temperature play is so fucking funny but makes so much sense. i mean, he literally tells us as much, albeit him admitting so in much more... flowery language.

okay but also imagine his partner wanting to demonstrate what it's like being on the receiving end of his kink?

hope you don't mind i'm hijacking this ask for my thoughts!

descriptors of Hector's physical appearance down below!

>>>mdni

She/her version:

The bedsprings squeaked, metal rattled, and to any onlooker not clued in, they might assume the man cuffed to the bed and blindfolded was undergoing a torture of the highest cruelty; his limbs writhing against the sheets, black coils turned to tendrils on his salty brow, groans hissed through a clenched jaw. However, they'd be mistaken. Hector was right where he wanted to be. With the person he wanted most. And they were on top of him, like a huntress savoring the last throes of her quarry, rapt with his every twist, salivating over what exquisite depravities she could extract from him next.

Her fingers, raking him over like talons, dragged the ice down his pebbled pecs, then his stomach, swirling below his navel, provoking another tender gasp from his heaving chest. He arched, skin turned gooseflesh. A hot pang rolled through her belly. Her lips curled into something wicked.

With a smile that could rend steel, though she boasted no fangs, she leaned in, whispering, "See? This is what it feels like, Hector: what you feel like to me." Her deft hands arabesqued his thigh, traveling up, up, up, a pinky catching on the hem of his boxers, threatening to invade further. And despite how she wished to plunge deep into his underwear, to feel him, febrile and velvet, pump his hardness with the same rapacious hunger compelling her to spill his belly and sink her teeth into his muscle, she held her ground, breath bated, eyes fixated on the man her heart ached for. She wanted the ache. She wanted him. But, not yet. Their game wasn't over.

Hector keened against the restraints, the bar between his plush lips muffling a shaky cry, teeth baring leather. He pretended like he wanted to get away, but his tip beaded a dark blot against the cotton. His brows wrinkled, the corners of his mouth went upturned, then quickly corrected to that helpless wince. Her laugh was all smoke and suede, without an ounce of remorse.

"Hector," her fingers edged an inch deeper below the fabric, chiding him in a sultry and low coo, "we both know how good you are with your words." Another inch. He flexed. She hummed. "But..."

She whistled cool air against his red-tipped ear. "No more words." she said, her fingers brushing his fraying curls, tucking a black loop into place. "Speak with your body, amorcito. Show me what you want."

The pretenses were gone, the inferno of his sweltering desire vaporizing them. Hector bucked his hips, seeking friction. His voice, sweet, desperate, begged unintelligibly. Her pussy throbbed. He debased himself so... easily, so willingly. She couldn't help but pant at the sight of him. Her fingers found her wetness then slipped under his boxers, all while praising that he was being so good for her, painting his hardened length with her sticky want, wrapping her fingers round him, squeezing, strangling. Her other hand spilled the burning candle's wax on his chest and he sobbed, suddenly becoming shy and facing away from her. She chuckled but didn't let up on her ruthless pace. She needed him to feel every ounce; to understand what he'd been doing to her all this time from his vents.

Her lush mouth found his nipple and she sucked, tongue laving him, teeth nibbling. The red wax hardened. His breath labored and his abdomen tensed, cock throbbing in her palm. He was close, and she knew it, so she slowed, lording her authority over his feverish state. She hoped he'd beg, shake his hips against her hand, but instead, he slobbered against the gag censoring him, attempting to say something. Concerned, she relieved him of the bar, and he sucked in a gasp.

"Is everything alright, Hector?" she asked, cupping his cheek.

He nodded. "It's just..." His head hung low, face flushing bashfully, blindfold visoring his eyes. She listened intently, suddenly full of worry.

"I—I want you, I love you, I need you. So please, kiss me. I'm so close, just, please, kiss me— "

Her mouth crashed into his, surprising him, and they sighed together. It was all breath and hunger, whimpers so saccharine she forgot she was the aggressor and he her prey, lost to the tang of him and his slippery feel. Her hand started up again, gradual, then marauding. He twisted, pressing against her eagerly. Between the squelching and tremors of longing wracking her lonely pussy, she speared her hand into his hair as if to search for more of him — for some other part of him she hadn't yet discovered. She needed him. Every mole, scar, wrinkle, it was hers. He belonged to her and she commanded so, greedily devouring his kiss-bruised lips, her hand pumping his twitching cock. Hector moaned and she worked him in earnest, guiding, loving.

At the most final moment, she pulled away, saliva trailing between them, springing his length free from the confines of his underwear, and she took his miserably erubescent head into her mouth, cheeks pitting, warmth sliding over the entirety of his cock. He winced, calling her name as his climax flooded her mouth.

At the head of the bed, Hector breathed raggedly, her drawing every last bit of him out from his half-hard cock. When she finished, she wiped her mouth and curled up next to him, a quiet adoration fuzzing her core. Discarding his blindfold and unfastening the cuffs, they looked at each other, their sex-mussed hair, their sweaty bodies, their glazed eyes, and they laughed. She tucked her head against his chest, on top of the wax, it smelling of jasmine, and Hector welcomed her, pulling her in, but it was clear there was something else.

She asked what he was thinking. She felt the rumble of his voice as he spoke.

"Well," his hand rubbed her shoulder, "your thighs, they're wet, and they're... touching me."

Before she could recoil, embarrassed over the state of herself, his arms caged her, strong and unrelenting. With a confidence she rarely glanced from Hector, he turned her chin up to him, both of their faces ablaze, and kissed her, holding her there, soft and delicately.

His other hand sank to the swell of her hips, tentatively as though waiting for her to stop him, but she didn't.

When she broke their embrace, she told him that she loved him, and he placed his lips on her forehead. His fingers finally met her there, brushing past a tuft of hair, then probing, curious and feeling rough against her drenched sex.

"After all this time, you have no idea what hearing you say that means to me. Please, let me show you."

He/Him version:

The bedsprings squeaked, metal rattled, and to any onlooker not clued in, they might assume the man cuffed to the bed and blindfolded was undergoing a torture of the highest cruelty; his limbs writhing against the sheets, black coils turned to tendrils on his salty brow, groans hissed through a clenched jaw. However, they'd be mistaken. Hector was right where he wanted to be. With the person he wanted most. And they were on top of him, like a hunter savoring the last throes of his quarry, rapt with his every twist, salivating over what exquisite depravities he could extract from him next.

His fingers, raking Hector over like talons, dragged the ice down his pebbled pecs, then his stomach, swirling below his navel, provoking another tender gasp from his heaving chest. He arched, skin turned gooseflesh. A hot pang rolled over his groin. His lips curled into something wicked.

With a smile that could rend steel, though he boasted no fangs, he leaned in, whispering, "See? This is what it feels like, Hector: what you feel like to me." His deft hands arabesqued Hector's thigh, traveling up, up, up, a pinky catching on the hem of his boxers, threatening to invade further. And despite how he wished to plunge deep into his underwear, to feel him, febrile and velvet, pump his hardness with the same rapacious hunger compelling him to spill his belly and sink his teeth into his muscle, he held his ground, breath bated, eyes fixated on the man his heart ached for. He wanted the ache. He wanted him. But, not yet. Their game wasn't over.

Hector keened against the restraints, the bar between his plush lips muffling a shaky cry, teeth baring leather. He pretended like he wanted to get away, but his tip beaded a dark blot against the cotton. Hector's brows wrinkled, the corners of his mouth went upturned, then quickly corrected to that helpless wince. His partner's laugh was all smoke and suede, without an ounce of remorse.

"Hector," his fingers edged an inch deeper below the fabric, chiding him in a sultry and low coo, "we both know how good you are with your words." Another inch. Hector flexed. He hummed. "But..."

He whistled cool air against his red-tipped ear. "No more words." he said, his fingers brushing his fraying curls, tucking a black loop into place. "Speak with your body, amorcito. Show me what you want."

The pretenses were gone, the inferno of Hector's sweltering desire vaporizing them. He bucked his hips, seeking friction. His voice, sweet, desperate, begged unintelligibly. Seeing Hector like this, his own cock ached. He debased himself so... easily, so willingly. His lover couldn't help but pant at the sight of him. He took his fingers into his mouth then slipped under Hector's boxers, all while praising that he was being so good for him, painting his hardened length with his sticky spit, it mixing with Hector's dribbling want, wrapping his fingers round him, squeezing, strangling. His other hand spilled the burning candle's wax on Hector's chest and he sobbed, suddenly becoming shy and facing away from him. He chuckled but didn't let up on his ruthless pace. He needed him to feel every ounce; to understand what he'd been doing to him all this time from his vents.

His lush mouth found his nipple and he sucked, tongue laving him, teeth nibbling. The red wax hardened. Hector's breath labored and his abdomen tensed, cock throbbing in his palm. He was close, and his lover knew it, so he slowed, lording his authority over his feverish state. He hoped Hector would beg, shake his hips against his hand, but instead, he slobbered against the gag censoring him, attempting to say something. Concerned, he relieved him of the bar, and he sucked in a gasp.

"Is everything alright, Hector?" he asked, cupping his cheek.

Hector nodded. "It's just..." His head hung low, face flushing bashfully, blindfold visoring his eyes. He listened intently, suddenly full of worry.

"I—I want you, I love you, I need you. So please, kiss me. I'm so close, just, please, kiss me— "

His mouth crashed into his, surprising Hector, and they sighed together. It was all breath and hunger, whimpers so saccharine he forgot he was the aggressor and Hector his prey, lost to the tang of him and his slippery feel. His hand started up again, gradual, then marauding. Hector twisted, pressing against him eagerly. Between the squelching and blood rushing to his own lonely cock, he speared his hand into Hector's hair as if to search for more of him — for some other part he hadn't yet discovered. He needed him. Every mole, scar, wrinkle, it was his. Hector belonged to him and he commanded so, greedily devouring his kiss-bruised lips, his hand pumping Hector's twitching cock. He moaned and he worked him in earnest, guiding, loving.

At the most final moment, he pulled away, saliva trailing between them, springing Hector's length free from the confines of his underwear, and he took his miserably erubescent head into his mouth, cheeks pitting, warmth sliding over the entirety of his cock. Hector winced, calling his name as his climax flooded his mouth.

At the head of the bed, Hector breathed raggedly, his partner drawing every last bit of him out from his half-hard cock. When he finished, he wiped his mouth and curled up next to him, a quiet adoration fuzzing his core. Discarding Hector's blindfold and unfastening the cuffs, they looked at each other, their sex-mussed hair, their sweaty bodies, their glazed eyes, and they laughed. He tucked his head against Hector's chest, on top of the wax, it smelling of jasmine, and he welcomed him, pulling him in, but it was clear there was something else.

He asked what Hector was thinking. He felt the rumble of his voice as Hector spoke.

"Well," his hand rubbed his shoulder, "it's... poking my leg. And it feels so... hot."

Before he could recoil, embarrassed over the state of himself, Hector's arms caged him, strong and unrelenting. With a confidence he rarely glanced from Hector, he turned his chin up to him, both of their faces ablaze, and kissed him, holding him there, soft and delicately.

Hector's other hand sank to the swell of his hips, tentatively as though waiting for him to stop him, but he didn't.

When Hector's lover broke their embrace, he told Hector that he loved him, and Hector placed his lips on his forehead. His fingers finally met him there, brushing past a tuft of hair, then probing, curious and feeling rough against his burning sex.

"After all this time, you have no idea what hearing you say that means to me. Please, let me show you."

They/them version:

The bedsprings squeaked, metal rattled, and to any onlooker not clued in, they might assume the man cuffed to the bed and blindfolded was undergoing a torture of the highest cruelty; his limbs writhing against the sheets, black coils turned to tendrils on his salty brow, groans hissed through a clenched jaw. However, they'd be mistaken. Hector was right where he wanted to be. With the person he wanted most. And they were on top of him, like a hunter savoring the last throes of their quarry, rapt with his every twist, salivating over what exquisite depravities they could extract from him next.

Their fingers, raking him over like talons, dragged the ice down his pebbled pecs, then his stomach, swirling below his navel, provoking another tender gasp from his heaving chest. He arched, skin turned gooseflesh. A hot pang rolled through their belly. Their lips curled into something wicked.

With a smile that could rend steel, though they boasted no fangs, they leaned in, whispering, "See? This is what it feels like, Hector: what you feel like to me." Their deft hands arabesqued his thigh, traveling up, up, up, a pinky catching on the hem of his boxers, threatening to invade further. And despite how they wished to plunge deep into his underwear, to feel him, febrile and velvet, pump his hardness with the same rapacious hunger compelling them to spill his belly and sink their teeth into his muscle, they held their ground, breath bated, eyes fixated on the man their heart ached for. They wanted the ache. They wanted him. But, not yet. Their game wasn't over.

Hector keened against the restraints, the bar between his plush lips muffling a shaky cry, teeth baring leather. He pretended like he wanted to get away, but his tip beaded a dark blot against the cotton. His brows wrinkled, the corners of his mouth went upturned, then quickly corrected to that helpless wince. Their laugh was all smoke and suede, without an ounce of remorse.

"Hector," their fingers edged an inch deeper below the fabric, chiding him in a sultry and low coo, "we both know how good you are with your words." Another inch. He flexed. They hummed. "But..."

They whistled cool air against his red-tipped ear. "No more words." they said, their fingers brushing his fraying curls, tucking a black loop into place. "Speak with your body, amorcito. Show me what you want."

The pretenses were gone, the inferno of his sweltering desire vaporizing them. Hector bucked his hips, seeking friction. His voice, sweet, desperate, begged unintelligibly. Their sex throbbed. He debased himself so... easily, so willingly. They couldn't help but pant at the sight of him. They took their fingers into their mouth then slipped under his boxers, all while praising that he was being so good for them, painting his hardened length with their sticky spit, it mixing with Hector's dribbling want, wrapping their fingers round him, squeezing, strangling. Their other hand spilled the burning candle's wax on his chest and he sobbed, suddenly becoming shy and facing away from them. They chuckled but they didn't let up on their ruthless pace. They needed him to feel every ounce; to understand what he'd been doing to them all this time from his vents.

Their lush mouth found his nipple and they sucked, tongue laving him, teeth nibbling. The red wax hardened. His breath labored and his abdomen tensed, cock throbbing in their palm. He was close, and they knew it, so they slowed, lording their authority over his feverish state. They hoped he'd beg, shake his hips against their hand, but instead, he slobbered against the gag censoring him, attempting to say something. Concerned, they relieved him of the bar, and he sucked in a gasp.

"Is everything alright, Hector?" they asked, cupping his cheek.

He nodded. "It's just..." His head hung low, face flushing bashfully, blindfold visoring his eyes. They listened intently, suddenly full of worry.

"I—I want you, I love you, I need you. So please, kiss me. I'm so close, just, please, kiss me— "

Their mouth crashed into his, surprising him, and they both sighed together. It was all breath and hunger, whimpers so saccharine they forgot they were the aggressor and he their prey, lost to the tang of him and his slippery feel. Their hand started up again, gradual, then marauding. He twisted, pressing against them eagerly. Between the squelching and tremors of longing wracking their lonely sex, they speared their hand into his hair as if to search for more of him — for some other part of him they hadn't yet discovered. They needed him. Every mole, scar, wrinkle, it was theirs. He belonged to them and they commanded so, greedily devouring his kiss-bruised lips, their hand pumping his twitching cock. Hector moaned and they worked him in earnest, guiding, loving.

At the most final moment, they pulled away, saliva trailing between them, springing his length free from the confines of his underwear, and they took his miserably erubescent head into their mouth, cheeks pitting, warmth sliding over the entirety of his cock. He winced, calling their name as his climax flooded their mouth.

At the head of the bed, Hector breathed raggedly, them drawing every last bit of him out from his half-hard cock. When they finished, they wiped their mouth and curled up next to him, a quiet adoration fuzzing their core. Discarding his blindfold and unfastening the cuffs, the two of them looked at each other, their sex-mussed hair, their sweaty bodies, their glazed eyes, and laughed. They tucked their head against his chest, on top of the wax, it smelling of jasmine, and Hector welcomed them, pulling them in, but it was clear there was something else.

They asked what he was thinking. They felt the rumble of his voice as he spoke.

"Well," his hand rubbed their shoulder, "I can feel... it against me. And... it's so warm."

Before they could recoil, embarrassed over the state of themself, his arms caged them, strong and unrelenting. With a confidence they rarely glanced from Hector, he turned their chin up to him, both of their faces ablaze, and kissed them, holding them there, soft and delicately.

His other hand sank to the swell of their hips, tentatively as though waiting for them to stop him, but they didn't.

When they broke their embrace, they told him that they loved him, and he placed his lips on their forehead. His fingers finally met them there, brushing past a tuft of hair, then probing, curious and feeling rough against their aching sex.

"After all this time, you have no idea what hearing you say that means to me. Please, let me show you."

yeah so hopefully this delivered. i'll also write hector being in a more dominant position eventually, but this is what came to me most immediately upon reading your ask! anyways, comments and reblogs bring me life. let me know what yall think ^^

spot any typos? please lmk so i can edit. i swear i read my writing a million times and something always manages to slip through the cracks lolol

[silverthehedgehogexplained]

Explaining Silver the Hedgehog's Eyes

Silver's eyes are another nuanced and sometimes confusing aspect of his character. So in this post I'll go over the nuances and meaning of their design. There are three key details to understand about Silver's eyes.

Part One: First, we have the shape. Silver's eyes have an angular shape with pointed upper corners to them.

I liken this shape to the upper wings of a butterfly.

This can be easy to miss due to how his 3D models are rendered and how they line up with his quills but always becomes more noticeable whenever Silver squints or closes his eyes. Just like Shadow and Jet's eyes they don't always end in a sharp point but they do always end in a somewhat pointed upper corner for the butterfly wing shape.

This is what's called Tsurime(meaning upturned eyes), which in character design represents aggressiveness, strong will, danger and/or general seriousness in a character in contrast to tareme(meaning downturned eyes) or round eyes which generally represents softness.

I will refer to Tsurime Eyes as Danger Eyes or Blade Eyes and Tareme Eyes as Soft Eyes.

If you've ever seen Yu-Gi-Oh!, this is the main visual difference between Yugi and Yami Yugi. It is also the main difference between Tails' bullies from Sonic Origins.

These eye types can express more than just seriousness or softness. Rouge has round eyes yet is very mature and can be even more serious than Knuckles(who has Danger Eyes) while someone like Fang the Hunter has sharp Danger Eyes yet is a very comedic villain.

All of Sonic's main rivals(Metal Sonic, Knuckles, Shadow, Blaze, Jet, Silver and Surge) have Danger Eyes while Sonic himself normally has round Soft Eyes to show his carefree nature but also gains sharp Danger Eyes when he transforms into Super Sonic or the Werehog to show that he's in a more aggressive and serious state.

Silver's 3D character models have usually had eyes that appear more round compared to his 2D art but his newest character model has the sharpest eyes yet and is the most like his 2D art.

Part Two: Next, we have the black patterns(officially called black patterns in Sonic Speed Drawing) around Silver's eyes. The part that is easy to miss here is that the patterns run all the way around his eyes and under his front quills, similar to Blaze's eyeliner.

This detail can be easy to miss because the patterns do stop at the sides of his eyes on his in game 06 model(but not the pre-rendered cutscene model) and later media rarely show Silver at an angle where you can see them.

Part Three: Lastly, we have how they intersect with his leaf hair. Silver actually has bangs that cover the top parts of his eyes and perfectly line up with the upper corners which we can see by comparing the concept art of Silver to Super Silver where his quills rise up and reveal a bit more of his eyes.

This can be a source of confusion itself because the quills cover/perfectly line up with the upper corners of his eyes and leave what appears to be the round sides, making them appear completely round if you don't look closely.

In Summary: Silver has butterfly wing shaped eyes, black patterns around them and his front quills are bangs that partially cover them. Know these three details and you can always draw Silver's eyes right!

[suzukiblu]

Behind the cut: clonecest poll wanted more "we are so pleased with this match", so clonecest poll gets more "we are so pleased with this match"! 💛 (( chrono || non-chrono ))

Kon cuts off Kara’s thoughts with a strangled ache of a sound and the omega who is almost definitely Match–look, they are in an active cloning lab right now, Kara’s just covering her bases here–bares his teeth. They’re blunter than Kon’s, no hint of fang to them at all, but other than the teeth and their coloring, the two of them really do look just the same. 

But they don’t smell the same. 

Match doesn’t look well, like she said. He’s just barely sweating, a barely-discernable tremble in his muscles and his colorless eyes a little wider than Kon’s but face otherwise perfectly blank, and he smells like a kind of candy that Kara will never taste again and no one else on this planet will ever get to taste at all, and the thrum of his heartbeat intermingled with Kon’s sounds like an entire flock of hummingbirds. 

Kon’s heartbeat skips, just once, and Match’s–matches it. 

So yes, that’s actually him, then. 

Kara feels so . . . satisfied, in a way she’d almost forgotten ever feeling at all. 

She led Kon here, after all. Right to where he’s supposed to be. Right to where he’s needed. 

Right to his match. 

Kara smiles; turns her hands upside-down to display her empty, open palms to Match. It’s a politeness. A civility, and a courtesy. A declaration of intent and a promise of safe harbor and good intentions. Match won’t know any of that, of course, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t deserve the courtesy all the same. Kara isn’t going to insult a stray omega in burning need of what she’s brought him, whether he recognizes the insult or not. 

Especially after he’s spent all these years here burning alone. 

“The House of El presents itself for your consideration, most esteemed omega,” she greets–and announces–smoothly, inclining her head as she speaks and keeping her hands open and upturned. It’s about as close as she can get the translation of the formal introduction, at least with this little notice to go on. If she’d known they’d be walking into this situation, she’d have come properly prepared, obviously–and made sure Kon brought Match the kind of courting gifts an omega on their cycle deserves, too–but for now, the formal manners are the most she can offer. 

And Kon, of course. Obviously she can offer him. 

It’s nothing like playing at leading her parents to each other ever was, but Kara’s missed it so, so much all the same. 

Match stares blankly at her instead of reacting or responding, which isn’t really what she would’ve been expecting if she’d come here prepared. She’d have thought he’d be more immediately volatile, or at least more immediately emotive. Both because of his circumstances and because he was cloned from Kon, who even gaining more pack structure has still never had all that much in the way of internal emotional regulation, and also because Match has never had a pack at all. 

Though in retrospect, shutting down completely is a logical response to dealing with emotional regulation issues. 

Not a good one, but a logical one. 

“. . . ‘consideration’,” Match echoes slowly, and Kon’s teeth clench so hard they creak. Kara smiles very slightly at Match–not enough to be overfamiliar, but hopefully enough for an omega socialized by humans to accept as a polite pleasantry. She also makes her pheromones into soothing, comfortable acceptance, because obviously she– 

Match–blinks, and visibly locks his knees as they try to buckle. 

And Kara realizes–if he’s never heard an alpha voice before, has he ever smelled beta pheromones either? The actual deliberate, purposeful ones? 

She probably should’ve realized that likelihood sooner, actually. 

Definitely should’ve, in fact.

[iamthecomet]

𝘔𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘺 𝘔𝘢𝘺

𝘋𝘢𝘺 Four: 𝘍𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘈𝘪𝘥

Rating: T

Pairing: Raindrop

Word Count: 1.2k

Murder Ghouls Ahead! (No actual murder, just the aftermath)

Mushy May brought to you by @forlorn-crows

Divider by @ghuleh-recs

It wasn't supposed to happen like this. 

Rain sits back against the shower wall. Knees drawn up to his chest. Blood swirling down the drain. Not much. Most of it not even his. But it's enough. Enough that he feels the sting, worse is the bite of shame. Embarrassment. He should be better than this. He is better than this. It’s not like it’s his first hunt or anything. Not like he doesn’t know how to do this–hasn’t done it a thousand times. 

He isn’t sure what went wrong. 

His arm stings. He refocuses his gaze to watch blood leak from it. It’s not that bad–he’s had worse. Nothing like hunting in the pit. But it’s still a nasty gash down the the outer edge of his forearm. It’s still bleeding. It still hurts. 

There’s a sharp knock on his bathroom door. Rain flinches. Ignores it. He doesn’t understand why no one in this place understands what a locked door means. 

“Rain.” 

It’s Dew, voice sharp. Tipping up with worry. Rain wonders if he saw the mess he left by the late–too in shock to even finish his meal or dispose of it properly. Sloppy. He tucks his head into the circle of his arms. He had a knife. Since when do siblings carry knives? Maybe if Rain keeps ignoring him, Dew will go away. 

He knows better, of course. But he can hope. 

“Rain I know you’re in there.” 

Rain sighs. “I’m fine.”

“C’mon.” 

It isn’t like the door is the thing stopping Dew. He already picked the lock on Rain’s bedroom. And he hadn’t thought to lock the bathroom door too. He appreciates Dew giving him this space, but he also knows he isn’t going to be able to get rid of him. Dew can definitely smell the blood–the shame–the disaster wafting through the door.  

“It’s not my blood,” Rain answers. 

The door cracks open and Rain buries his head deeper into the circle of his arms, curls up tighter. Pressed into the corner of the shower like he can disappear. Then Dew’s there. Stepping into the cool spray, fully clothed. Rain hears the hiss of the water as it hits him, evaporates. The hand Dew lays on Rain’s arm is hot. 

Rain looks up at him. He doesn’t know what Dew sees in his face–but whatever it is makes the fire ghoul blanch. He watches as Dew gnaws on his lip with a crooked fang. The sight of Rain pulls at his features. Like he’s warring with relief that Rain is alright, and worry that maybe he actually isn’t. 

“Do you want to tell me about it?” 

“Not much to tell. I picked wrong.” 

It happens sometimes. Some humans appear weaker than they are. They fight back. They scratch and claw and kick and scream. Rain, and every other ghoul who hunts, has learned to accept that–expect it even. But not knives. Not knives in the hands of people who know how to use him. 

“Did they survive?” 

Rain shakes his head. 

“Then you didn’t pick wrong.” 

There’s no denying the little flashes of anger in Dew’s voice. Not at Rain–he knows that. At whoever hurt him. Dew probably wished Rain hadn’t killed him–just so he could have had the chance to do it himself. 

“Come on, let’s get you up. The water’s cold.” 

“I like the water cold.” 

“Yeah, but I don’t.” Dew pulls on him with surprisingly strength and Rain lets himself be uncoiled. Dew doesn’t stop until Rain’s standing, looking down at the fire ghoul. Water dripping from Rain’s curls onto Dew’s upturned face. 

Dew presses a soft kiss to the space over Rain’s heart. “You’re fine.” 

Rain nods. “I told you that.” 

“I know. Still had to see it for myself. And you’re still beating yourself up about it. Shit happens.” 

“He had a knife.” 

“He doesn’t have anything anymore.” Dew laces his fingers with Rain’s and reaches around him to turn off the shower. The silence that falls after feels oppressive. Rain winces. Dew frowns just a little, the corners of that delicate mouth pulling down and despite the ache, and the shame, Rain wants to smooth those worry lines away. 

“You don’t have to do any of this,” Rain says softly. Dew reaches up to tuck a drenched curl behind Rain’s ear. Rain chooses to believe he’s doing it to stop the steady stream of icy water from dripping on his cheek. 

“I want to do this. You should have come to me.” 

Rain shrugs. “Why? It’s a scratch.” 

“A lot more than a scratch,” Dew mumbles as he inspects Rain’s arm, pressing gentle fingers to swollen sides. It’s a clean cut–a sharp knife. Deep but not too bad. Not bleeding anymore. A human would need stitches, but Rain isn’t human. “You were embarrassed.” 

Rain grimaces, thinks about lying. He keeps so many people at arm's distance–it’s easier. He’s used to being alone. He spent so much time alone in the pit. But as hard as he tries to hold Dew at a distance, he can’t. Dew doesn’t let him–Rain doesn’t even really want to. Dew’s under his skin, and Rain likes him there. 

“I don’t like fucking up.” 

Dew clicks his tongue. “You didn’t fuck up. Shit happens. Let me fix it.” 

Rain allows himself to be pulled from the shower. Dew points to the closed toilet seat and Rain sits and watches do crouch down to dig into the vanity under the sink, looking for the first aid kit. Dew’s clothes are damp–the heat of him not able to protect him from all of the water. Rain hopes that after this he can get Dew out of them–that they can curl up together in bed and watch something stupid on TV and Rain can forget about everything except the way Dew’s skin feels against his. 

He’s pulled out of his reverie by a sharp sting along the cut in his arm. Dew, cleaning it with one fo those strongly scented alcohol pads that always make Rain’s head hurt. He crinkles his nose up. 

“Sorry, it’s just for a second.”

“It’s gross.” 

“Stinks.”

“Only you would complain about the smell instead of the pain.” Dew rolls his eyes but there’s a smile there, that worried frown finally disappearing. 

Dew chuckles as he slathers some cream over the cut–this thankfully doesn’t smell like anything. “Don’t want you drying out, Fishy.” 

That finally makes Rain smile. He dips his head, grinning, heat flaring through his chest–adoration more than anything else. Dew catches him looking away–catches the soft violet color rising to his cheeks. 

“There you are,” he whispers. Using the hand that isn’t covered in lotion to tip Rain’s chin up so they can look at each other.  Dew dips down to kiss him, soft, chaste.  

“Here I am,” Rain whispers, nodding. 

Dew finishes the rest with deft fingers. Pressing a pad into the wound and wrapping tight gauze around it. He pats Rain’s arm lightly when he’s done, satisfied with his work. Then his face goes sober again, serious. It’s Rain’s turn to worry his lip between his teeth. 

“Don’t scare me like that again,” Dew says, pressing his forehead into Rain’s. “Promise me.” 

He doesn’t answer, he just kisses Dew again. A little longer, a little sweater. An apology. Rain can’t promise him–all he knows how to do is run away. But it’s ok–because he knows Dew will always follow, will always find  him. Will always fix him. 

[lipglossanon]

Hay Ride

Las Plagas!Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader - NSFW

warnings: las plagas Leon, himbo energy 🤭, dirty talk, needy Leon, biting, kissing, oral (f receiving), pussy eating in the great outdoors 🤭

not proofread ✌️

Farm smells hit your nose first; the earthy tones of upturned dirt paired with the sweet, dusty notes of hay has you smiling widely. 

“I’m really excited!”

You turn to see Leon staring at you before starting and looking around. Grinning to yourself at the flush now covering his cheeks, you reach out and link your arms together. 

“Penny for your thoughts.”

The pretty pink blush now reaches his ears as he kicks at a rock. 

“I know it’s not polite to stare, but you’re just so pretty.”

Your chest thrums in giddy excitement. 

“Such a charmer, Leon,” you tease, tugging him closer to plant a kiss on his jaw.

With a soft whine, he pulls you into a hug to bury his nose in your hair and breathe deeply. 

“Wanna take you home already,” he pouts when you pull away. 

“I promise we won’t stay too long,” you boop his nose, “then you’ll have me all to yourself.”

This time when he smiles at you you can see his incisors have lengthened. 

You rub your thumb across his bottom lip, “Do we need to go home though?”

He shakes his head no and places a kiss on your thumb, “Just got too excited.”

Warm arousal drips down your spine at his declaration. 

“Leon, you’re making this hard for me,” you sigh good naturedly. 

“You’re perfect, I can’t help it,” he mumbles under his breath as he lets his head slump down onto your shoulder, “promise I’ll behave.”

He scrapes his sharp teeth against your neck making you shiver. 

“Hey, no biting, Leon,” you push his shoulders and step back, “you always get carried away.”

He snorts, “That was one time and you said it was okay.”

You shake your head but can’t stop the grin from forming, “And we both learned our lesson. That poor woman probably thought you were trying to eat me.”

Leon laughs, “Well, the park’s usually empty at that time.”

You hum, grabbing his hand to walk over to the tractor hitched to a trailer stacked with hay bales. 

“Have you ever been on a hay ride before?” You tilt your head to look at him as you both wait your turn to step up onto the trailer. 

“Uhh I think once as a kid?” He shrugs, “I think I usually just played the carnival games or did the corn maze.”

“We should do those next!” You squeeze his hand excitedly, “wanna see who can get the biggest stuffed animal?”

He helps you step up into the trailer and follows you to sit on a bale of hay in the back.

“I think I’ll definitely win,” he murmurs into your ear making you giggle. 

He clasps your hand tighter when the tractor lurches forward and begins the slow trek through the ‘haunted’ field. Leon nuzzles into your neck as random people pop out of the cornstalks to scare those on the hay ride. 

You smile to yourself and squeeze his hand, “You scared?”

“Mm mm,” he kisses your neck softly, softly biting before nuzzling the skin, “just wanna do this.”

Biting down on your lip, your eyes flutter as Leon keeps softly kissing and nipping at your neck, doing it so slowly as not to draw attention. It’s also making you want to vibrate out of your skin. You squeeze his hand tight in warning and he only sighs, scraping a sharp fang against the sensitive spot near your ear, making your thighs press together. 

Everything becomes sort of white noise as you sit on the hay bale and let your boyfriend mark up your neck as you leak slick into your panties. Leon bites a little rougher making you gasp, but luckily enough, it’s not so loud it garners attention. 

“Smell so good right now,” he hotly breathes into your ear, “wanna shove my head between your legs and eat that fat pussy.”

“Leon,” you hiss, “cut it out.”

“Can’t,” he whines, licking the shell of your ear, “can we sneak off after this?”

Arousal pools low in your belly as your clit throbs for attention. 

“Okay, but behave til then,” you whisper. 

He does as you ask and only burrows his face against the crook of your neck as you both try to relax and enjoy the cutesy little ride. 

Once the tractor makes a complete circle, stopping back at the starting point, Leon eagerly helps you from the bed of the trailer and drags you out toward the parking lot. He swerves last minute onto the hiking trail that snakes around the whole area. 

There’s still some late afternoon sunlight trickling through the trees that highlight the well worn path in front of you. After a while, Leon drags you away from the trail, deeper into the woods. As soon as he deems it far enough, he’s pressing you up against a tree and dropping to his knees. 

He’s quickly yanking your jeans and panties down to your thighs, keeping you trapped in your clothing. He grabs your thighs and hoists you up to slip his head underneath and between your legs so he can bury his face against your soaking wet pussy. With your legs still caught in your pants, it forces Leon to hold you up as he eats you, practically glued to your body. 

You feel that long rough tongue fluttering against your clit before it glides down to lick into your drippy cunt. Whining loudly, you grip Leon’s hair to grind your pussy against his face.  

“Fuck, s’good, feels so good, Leon,” you gasp out, eyes rolling back as he fucks his tongue in and out of your hole. 

Humming, he trails kisses across your pussy lips up to the hood of your clit. His lips softly trace your sensitive bud and he places kiss after kiss after kiss on the sensitive bundle of nerves. He lightly scrapes those sharp teeth against your mound sending tingles all through your body. 

“Ngh, god,” you whimper as Leon softly kitten licks your clit, dilated eyes hungrily watching your expressions. 

His hand comes up to rest on your abdomen, thumb pulling up the hood of your clit so he can suck it into his hot mouth. 

“Leon!” You cry out, hands pulling his hair as you buck your hips. 

He groans and shoves his face even closer to your cunt, tongue lapping roughly at your swollen bud. It doesn’t take long with the perfect suction around your clit for your orgasm to uncoil in your belly. 

With a keening cry, your back arches what little it can as slick gushes from your hole onto Leon’s face. He quickly moves his mouth to lick it all up, eagerly running his tongue across your pussy and thighs, moaning at the taste. 

With some slight maneuvering, he’s able to set you down on shaky feet and right your clothing. You sway into his chest as your legs tremble. 

“We need to go home,” he rasps out, “don’t know how much more I can hold back.”

Tilting your head back, you can see dark black veins slowly inching across his neck up towards his jawline. 

“Let’s go then,” you grab onto his arm for balance, letting Leon guide you back out of the woods and into the parking lot. 

divider: @firefly-graphics

[toothpaste-for-the-skin]

Alr I said I’d go more into some of the odder traits with (my version of) Trixie in this post and then I was busy for the next couple days and didn’t get to it lol- so I wanna talk about it rn:

Ok for starters, I decided to make Trixie half batpony. Her mother is a batpony named Dandelion Dusk (based on her appearance ((as a unicorn)) in an mlp comic but I altered her pretty heavily). Jackpot is still her father and he remains a unicorn (his design is also unfinished lol)

Despite being half batpony, Trixie is still considered a unicorn. I think that even though a pony could be a descendant of and show traits of multiple pony races, whichever of the races’ key traits they exhibit (I.e. wings/flight, a horn/magic, or lack thereof) would be what type of pony they’re largely classified as. Trixie has some traits that make it clear she’s half batpony though. Those traits mainly being fangs, extra fluff, tapered ears, and visually distinct hooves (which is a Pegasi/batpony trait). She also has a generally shorter and more upturned snout, which does hint towards her being a batpony but is not in and of itself a binding trait that all batponies must have. It’s just something that��s more common with them.

However, she has some fairly anomalous traits that are basically unique to her. Some of them might be because she is a unicorn/batpony hybrid, but others just can’t really be explained. The first one I’m gonna talk about is her eyes.

Trixie’s pupils basically always remain as pinpricks, which does kind of give her a bit of a more “unstable” look compared to her actual canon counterpart. Besides being a bit of an indicator of her personality, there’s actually another reason for this. Batponies are well adapted to darkness, and their eyes are naturally used to lightless conditions. Thusly they tend to be adverse to bright lights and are usually nocturnal. Trixie inherited this night vision of the batponies but remains diurnal like most unicorns. Her eyes were meant to be taking in way less light so even light levels that are considered normal for most ponies causes her pupils to constrict almost completely, basically all the time. I imagine this isn’t particularly comfortable for her but it is probably something she’s just grown to live with. Maybe someone should get her some sunglasses..

When she’s in the dark, her pupils will dilate to a normal size. Her eyes will also dilate for the same reasons as other eyes will, like when seeing someone you’re close to. Basically her eyes more or less function as normal, it’s just the levels of light her eyes can comfortably take is a lot lower than with other ponies.

Also when her pupils construct they remain round unlike most batponies whose pupils constrict into slits. This is probably due to unicorn heritage.

The main “inexplicable” trait of Trixie’s is the fact that her mouth is bluish purple. There really isn’t a reason for this and the trait is unique to her. It’s just generally anomalous lol (but kinda fits the idea that’s she’s supposed to be a bit of an oddity as a whole).

Her mouth is also in more of a “:3” shape which I don’t consider super noteworthy ig but it is something she has that most other ponies don’t. I do not think this is unique to her however.

Additional info ig:

When Trixie became a pseudo-alicorn due to the alicorn amulet, she actually gained batpony-like wings. This wasn’t necessarily bc the bat wings were more “evil”, but it was actually because of the fact she was half batpony.

[justpoliteconversations]

The Negotiator [Reader + Mer!Warriors]

This was not in your job description. You don't get paid enough.

The self-indulgent is spewing forth even stronger than usual with this one. This particular topic was supposed to happen differently, but I was seduced by the unceasingly posts of the scarf on my dash. It be that way sometimes.

Masterlist

Part: 1 / 2

TW: Implied things. Not specifying, so be warned.

Disclaimer: Don't own The Legend of Zelda franchise. Linked Universe is the fan creation of jojo56830.

---

You hadn't aimed for the welfare department when you'd signed up for an entry level position at a mer rehabilitation center. In fact, you hadn't expected to be considered at all, nevermind accepting the position even if you did get a call. It had been a fit of fancy sending in that application. A shot in the dark, when honestly you'd already been accepted for another job.

And yet, here you are. Just like you'd taken a chance in sending out that application, you took another one when you turned down the job you'd lined up previously in favor of a pipe dream.

You just hadn't expected that dream to become a nightmare so quickly. You hadn't expected the glamor of media and public perception to be so skewed by romantic bullshit it had become more akin to a lie than an embellished retelling.

In the time you'd been working there, you learned something about Mers that should have been obvious from the beginning (was obvious, you just hadn't wanted to accept it at first). Furthermore, you learned something about humans you'd always known but now had deep, intimate experience with.

And that was that Mers are dangerous, feral creatures. And that humans are damned idiots.

"Wars." You called softly (you knew he'd hear you. he always did), staring down cautiously into the enclosure from the safety of a catwalk far above. The water rippled at the surface, just the slightest of movements giving away the presence of the Mer you currently had the most concerns about.

Wars, for better or worse, was a charmer as far as mers go (honestly, as far as any male species goes). A handsome face, elegant features, charisma for days and a flare for the dramatic. And also, a flirt. An insatiable flirt who knew how to woo a female of any species into giving him a second look.

It was what made him so valuable to the center. So damned profitable. The picture perfect fantasy come to life, all wrapped up in a saucy little wink and a sweet (fake. so fake) gesture of affection for the throngs of desperate humans clambering to meet the real life prince charming. The perfect act. An act made by a predator that thrived on deception.

And those ignorant center visitors were none the wiser. Just throwing their money away to coo and sigh at the smiling face that had learned to keep his fangs securely behind an upturned pair of lips.

It's not hard for a creature as intelligent as mers to lie, after all. Despite what the law may interpret the existence of mers as, when it came down to it they were sentient predators. And humans were just as likely to end up on the menu as anything else.

The water shifted again, and suddenly there he was. Golden spun hair shimmering in the sunlight like gold dust, gorgeous blue eyes half-lidded and a smile (fake. fake. fake.) turned delicately against the plush shine of full lips.

He did a little turn in the water as he looked up at you with a damn good imitation of bedroom eyes, making a soft cooing sound and letting the long, silky sapphire fan of his fins flare out across the water's surface like a great billowing cloak. By the end of the flashy swirl, he's wrapped his glimmering curtain of tail fins around himself, blowing you a kiss in a very humanlike gesture. Of course, throwing in his signature wink at the end, delicate head fins folded back and eyes so liquid they were practically melted.

Ever the performer. And currently the bane of your existence.

"Yes, yes. Beautiful as always, Wars." You drawled, rolling your eyes before continuing. "Now. If you're done trying to kill me for the day-" He made a wounded (fake) sound in the back of his throat. "-I have to talk to you." You leveled his pouting face with a serious stare. "About my co-workers."

It was instant. The way War's melted sugar eyes hardened like cold chips of ice, the pupils within constricting so rapidly you could see it even several meters above the water. His fins pulled close and held perfectly still atop the water's surface, the lithe muscles of his tail working so fluidly in his element he hardly seemed to move at all.

He sank just the slightest bit until it was just his dark, predatory eyes watching you from the eerily still surface. Waiting. Watching. Assessing.

It took everything in you not to take a step back. Away from the catwalk. Away from the predator curled tight in the water below, tense as a coil in a spring-loaded trap (you wondered sometimes if he might not make the leap one day and drag you down to your death. he had the power for it, no matter what your coworkers seemed to think).

You pushed away the unease, instead taking a step forward. Ignored the way his eyes tracked you like pinpoints against the whites of his eyes. "I'm sure you've heard that management are thinking of putting someone in the water with you. For- performance potential." You grimaced at the idea of it.

It would be a blood bath. Warriors was territorial. Far too territorial to allow just any random trainer in the water with him (which shouldn't have ever been a concern at all. because there were restrictions put in place for a reason. and no direct human-mer interactions was at the very top of the list damnit).

Wars was silent, as was to be expected. He hadn't yet learned human speech, and if you had your way he never would. Because he wasn't even supposed to be at the center anymore. He should be back in the wild where he belonged. Seducing fish and seals to their untimely deaths or whatever it was this particular mer did to get by before he arrived at the center.

But he was a money maker (and a damned good one). He was basically the face of the center by this point (featured on so many postures it was nearly sickening). And the big bosses were hard pressed to let such a cash cow go without a fight.

You understood. You really did. Money didn't grow on trees and mers were expensive to upkeep. Not even accounting for the gray-area bullshit that was mer standing in the political sphere. Mers were not an easy subject to acquire funding for, given the hazy line between sentience and non-sentience the world at large couldn't seem to agree on (you knew where you stood on that line).

However, (and as you've said so many times before) forcibly keeping him (or any mer) here with the intent to gain profit went against the very purpose of the center. Which was to rehabilitate mers affected by human-made incidents and to release them back into their natural environments as soon as possible.

Simple. Effective. Routine. And then Wars had showed up with a badly torn (shredded) fin from an illegal nighttime boating incident. He was put into the isolation tank (just like any other new arrival) where he had then proceeded to mimic his handlers' playful (you damned well hoped it had been playful) gestures out of boredom.

He's intelligent. Very, very intelligent. He learned very quickly which gestures got him the most attention. And food. And the rest, as one could say, was history.

Which had snowballed into the issue you were now addressing. That some grade A idiot up top thought it would be a good idea to get someone in the water with a potentially deadly (very much deadly. actively deadly) mer just because he learned how to blow a kiss and smile pretty for treats.

"Wars. I am trying my best to get you back to the ocean where you belong." You saw the way his pinprick eyes dilated and flickered briefly, and you resisted the urge to grit your teeth. "Yes, Wars. The ocean. Where you actually belong. Not here in this tank, lovely as you seem to think it is."

Silence. As was expected. Except for the way Wars had flicked his head fins in slight irritation, upset that you were talking of releasing him again when he had made it abundantly clear that he preferred it here. Where all his wants and needs were provided for and life was just so easy to coast through with a few mimicked expressions.

You leaned against the catwalk, arms crossed and head hanging at the shoulders. Not looking forward to a potential one-sided argument with Wars. Exhausted as you were from a long day of arguing with your superiors and trying your damnedest not to call them all conceded fools and ignorant morons.

You sighed. "But that's not the point right now." You moved away from the topic before it could throw you off track. And thankfully, Wars let you (for now). "I'm doing everything in my power to keep all these overzealous idiots out of your territory." He made a pleased coo at that, but you silenced him with a tired glare. "You aren't making it easy, Wars."

From the water, the blue-finned mer unfurled his elegant tail fins and began waving them gently through the water, chirping and squeaking at you in appreciation. It was so convincing you almost wanted to smile, but you didn't because you weren't an idiot.

"Cute. But no takers, love. Your eyes are still doing that thing they do when you're contemplating ripping someone's throat out." Wars blinked at that, before finally (finally) pulling his lips back until his fangs were on full display. Long and sharp and predatory to the very core of him. "Ah. There he is. Good to know we know where we stand with each other."

And he snickered. Honest to God snickered. Pupils no longer flickering between too large and too narrow, just settled into some state of in-between you've come to learn was his version of relaxed.

It was unnerving. But better than the fake ass smiles and doe eyes he seemed intent on practicing on you. Anything was better than knowing you were being actively hunted (even if just for casual sport. especially because it was just for casual sport).

You picked up the bucket at your side now that you had his actual attention. "Back to business." You grabbed a fish from it, a beautiful female salmon nearly half your size (eggs still intact, just how Wars preferred them). "They're going to evaluate you tomorrow. I need you to be- less pleasant." That was definitely an unimpressed snort, but his attention was still on the fish and therefore you were still negotiating. "And by that I mean hissing, snarling. Hell. Even some tail thrashing wouldn't be amidst."

You held the fish out over the catwalk, and his eyes pinpricked again, tracking it with interest. Now for the hard part. "But no biting." His eyes. Flickered. Contracted. Dilated.

"No biting, Wars. Don't kill them." His eyes were fully blown now. Looking you right in the eye. Quiet. So quiet.

"I'm going to give you this salmon. Okay, Wars?" No response. "And if you don't bite, kill or maim anyone, I'll bring you three more. Just like this one."

That caught his interest, and you pressed your advantage. "You know I'd never break my promise to you. I never have before, right?"

He blinked. And his eyes were neutral again. Tracking the salmon with new appreciation. Something almost like enlightenment entering his eyes.

"Is it a deal?"

You were making a deal with the devil. Because this was an intelligent mer. And when he learned how to get what he wanted he'd grasp it with both of his clawed hands and never let it go.

He nodded. And you knew future you would rue this day for the rest of your life (or just until you got this fucker back to the wild, because you would. for sure).

But still. Tension you hadn't even realized was in your chest loosened. Relief flooded your body, so great you nearly went limp with it.

You didn't want to think about what the alternative would have been. Even if it meant Wars now had a new trick in his arsenal to make your life a misery, it would be worth it (it had to be).

It would have been a bloodbath. You were sure of it. Wars was territorial, after all. Of his space. Of his food. Of his resources.

It was why he didn't want to leave.

"Okay." You said, smiling finally. "Here you go."

And with a toss the deal was struck. And you prayed to whatever deity would listen that Wars kept his end of the deal. Because he was an accomplished liar, and he always had been.

And you knew, beyond logic and beyond evidence, why Wars had been hit that night. Why he'd been so close to that boat when he'd been ensnared in their propeller. Why he'd been right under them, so close he could reach out and touch it. In shallow water. With the lights off and the moon full.

Why he'd had injuries on his hands that weren't from propellor blades. Why his claws had damn near been ripped off.

He was territorial, after all. And a predator. The top of the food chain.

And humans were just another animal.

---

Back to the shadow to rest. It's so late.

[onegianthotmess]

Struggling Parents AU - Lilia and Divian Synopsis

↢ ❦ ↣

Lilia Vanrouge

↣ Species: Fae (Bat)

↣ Height: 158 cm (approximately 5 ft 2 in)

↣ Age: 27

↣ Gender: Demiboy

↣ Sexuality: Bisexual

↣ Occupation: Chessur’s Cashier (part-time), Olive Branch Server (part-time), Scalding Subject Worker (part-time), Lead Guitarist for Cater & Co (whenever gigs pop up)

↣ Relationship Status: Married (11 years and counting)

↣ Appearance: Short with a slim yet muscular build (boy is lean) and he has pointed ears and fangs. Long, princess length black hair with dyed red peekaboo highlights/whole underside is dyed red that’s almost always in a ponytail or bun, big and wide ruby red eyes with slightly slitted pupils (usually wears eyeliner and mascara with occasional eyeshadow), heart shaped lips. Has several piercings in both ears, clavicle piercings, nose piercing, snakebite piercing, tongue piercing, three navel piercings, and almost let the impulsive thought of getting a piercing on his dick, but Divi talked (read: slapped) him out of it. Wears a lot of red, black, green, purple, and occasionally pink, usually has fishnet tights and shirts on under his clothes, lots of spiked and/or studded belts and accessories and silver jewelry, lots of leather (mostly pants and shoes and one leather jacket), all of his shoes are platforms with studs and buckles but his favorites are the two pairs of boots he has, and he has a bunch of ripped stuff (mostly jeans). Also has way too many scrunchies and hair ties for it to be legal.

↣ Role: Lilia is Divian’s husband and Silver’s adoptive father. He usually does the majority of cleaning since Divian is the main cook of the house, but he does get to spend time in the kitchen trying to not burn toast that he cuts into star shapes for Silver in the morning.

Divian Vanrouge (Eva)

↣ Species: Shapeshifter (bonded to a raven)

↣ Height: 162 cm (approximately 5 ft 3 in)

↣ Age: 28

↣ Gender: Cisgender Female

↣ Sexuality: Pansexual

↣ Occupation: Retro Diner Server (part-time), Olive Branch Server (part-time), Briar Rose Daycare Assistant (part-time), Occasional Lead Vocalist for Cater & Co (whenever Lilia begs her)

↣ Relationship Status: Married (11 years and counting)

↣ Appearance: Short with a lean build but with thick thighs (pear body shape) and she has small, lightly pointed ears with dark brown feathers growing from behind them. Medium length dark to light brown hair that’s really shiny and well taken care of and is either in two braids or a messy braided bun or just down, slanted and upturned cream colored eyes with slightly slitted pupils and very thick eyelashes (uses an eyelash curler and lots of eyeliner on the daily), bow shaped lips. Has several piercings in both ears, two piercings on her left eyebrow, a bridge piercing, a Medusa piercing, snakebite piercings, and a navel bat piercing (Lili jokingly said Divi should get nipple piercings once and she said she’d only do it if he did, to which he politely declined). Wears a lot of clothing that can be classified as “pastel punk/scene kid” with mostly shades of purple and blue, but Divi also wears pink, green, red, and black. Wears lots of tights and stockings that are almost always ripped, usually has fishnet tights and shirts on under her clothes like Lilia, lots of colorful belts paired with chains on chains, Divi only has three pairs of ripped jeans and one pair of leather pants and the rest of her bottoms are shorts and skirts, wears ironic graphic tees and a lot of Sanrio merch (My Sweet Piano is her fav Sanrio character, but Kuromi is a close second), has three favorite hoodies that are all pastel colors (a pastel pink and green one that says “I ❤️ twinks,” a pastel purple one that says “I ❤️ bat-ies,” and a pastel blue one that says “I ❤️ cold brew”), steals Lilia’s leather jacket all the time despite having her own that she splattered paint all over, a bunch of colorful necklaces and bracelets paired with silver jewelry, lots of platform shoes just like her husband (but she mostly has knee length Converse in different colors from thrift stores and she switches out the laces because she has a shoelace collection and she also has one pair of platform leather boots that Lilia bought for himself in the wrong size). Also has an illegal amount of scrunchies and “I ❤️ titties” bracelets because of course she does.

↣ Role: Divian is Lilia’s wife and Silver’s adoptive mother. She’s the main cook of the house, but has to let Lilia cook half the time when she’s too busy. She works three part-time jobs, starting her day at the diner she works at, then usually shares a serving shift at Olive Branch with Lilia, then spends the last few hours of her day working as an assistant in the daycare Silver attends before her shift ends and she takes him home. Despite not being 100% ready to be expected to take in a baby when Silver’s parents died, Divian is doing a good job with what she has and is the more responsible one out of her and Lilia, despite her occasional reckless spending.

↢ ❦ ↣

A/N: Did my best and I’m decently happy with this synopsis on how it turned out. Maybe I’ll do a fic later, we’ll see how I feel.

[theactualsunshinechild]

Ugh, thinking about soft WrioChi again. We all know they would fuck hard and nasty and beat each other bloody for a fun spar, tease and poke and prod, but let's take a moment of appreciation for the concept of them also valuing nothing else more than each other's most genuine smiles, a rare commodity for them both.

The look Childe gives him when Wriothesley gives in to one of his whims and goes along with a bit makes Wrio feel the trouble is worth it. When Childe's softest smile cracks through as he talks about Teucer's latest shenanigans or his gift for Tonia, Wrio can feel himself warm at the core. This is what a family should feel like. He sometimes sees that same look directed at himself, when Childe thinks he's not looking, and he thinks Childe might as well be carving a hole out in his chest to live in. He wonders what kind of wallpaper lines his insides now. When he sees that sated, elated grin after a good spar, it re-energizes him all over again. The soft proud upturn that appears at the corners of Childe's mouth when he praises his food can power Wriothesley through four more hours of dreary tax paperwork with ease. The unbidden relaxed smile Childe gets in his sleep after Wriothesley kisses his forehead before getting out of bed soothes his soul and makes him devoutly do his utmost to craft a world where that smile can come to Childe easier each day.

Childe can never get enough of the buzz he gets in his bones when he successfully gets a chuckle out of Wriothesley with his antics. His heart races unmanageably the first time Wrio flashes him a victory smile in the ring, flushed from exertion, untethered and wild, inhibition set to the side like a wolf set loose, his blood and pride sweet on Childe's lips. It's addictive, and he drinks it in, his own loss secondary to the captivating sight before him. All of it is nothing though, compared to the high he feels when he can coax out the full belly laugh from the man, complete with an inelegant snort. The way the corners of his eyes pinch and his fangs flash, his nose crinkling, and his cheeks dusted with pink, Childe would pay money to have it captured on film. He can ride that feeling for weeks, keeping him going through injuries that would kill a lesser man. He can't die. He has to see it again. Sometimes, his heart clenches painfully whenever he sees Wriothesley finally put down his pen and papers. The way the man's shoulders drain of tension and his face looks so much younger when he gives a tired grin and asks "Did I keep you waiting?" makes Childe wish he could afford let go more often. To say nothing about the blissful expression that graces Wriothesley's face when he serves the perfect cup of tea, a warm meal, and lets him rest his head. If he could bottle up the raw, adoring smile he gets blessed with when he kisses him or whips out a little gift, Childe would do so in a heartbeat and observe it every day from every angle. And when he gets up before Wriothesley, he can barely bear to leave the bed, enraptured by the content, peaceful look on Wrio's face as he sleeps. He would protect it with his life for a long as his body could keep up with his spirit.

[archivist-crow]

Beast of Bray Road

Werewolf or were-animal creature seen in Wisconsin. A cluster of sightings from 1989 to 1992 ignited media interest. The sightings may be related to other, much earlier were-creature sightings elsewhere in Wisconsin and also in Michigan.

The Beast of Bray Road was so named because early known sightings and encounters were clustered around Bray Road, a one-mile stretch of isolated country road near Elkhorn, in southeastern Wisconsin, a small town of 6,500 residents. Rumors and gossip circulated primarily among teenagers. The story received media attention when Linda Contrey, a writer and cartoonist for a weekly newspaper called The Week, started collecting eyewitness testimonies and writing about them. Articles also appeared in Strange magazine. Sightings have been reported in a much wider geographical area, even as far away as Milwaukee.

Various descriptions of the Beast have been given, but common traits are its size and the fact that it stands, walks, and runs on hind legs, and also on all fours. Upright it is over six feet in height, even seven to eight feet. The figure is humanlike with clawed and hairy humanlike hands, and a wolfish or wolf head. It carries a revolting smell, and has sharp, canny, slanted and evil-looking eyes. It stares at people and smirks at them, giving them the feeling that it is intelligent and self-aware in a human way. Eyewitnesses say it is demonic and hellish.

The Beast is most often seen at night, but also has been seen during the day. It has menaced people and chased them, and has been seen kneeling by the road while apparently eating roadkill. No one to date has actually been physically harmed by the creature, although some eyewitnesses say they were certain the creature could have killed them had it chosen to do so.

One of the earliest encounters on record dates to 1936. Mark Schackelman was a night watchman at a Catholic convent, St. Colleta, near Jefferson, Wisconsin. He had two encounters with a bizarre creature resembling the Beast, both occurring around midnight. He spotted the creature atop a Native American burial mound, which it was clawing with its hands. The creature fled when Schackelman approached it.

But the second night, the creature—again found clawing at the top of the burial mound—stood up and faced Schackelman. The humanlike figure was over six feet tall and was covered with dark hair. It had a muzzle, prominent fangs, and pointed ears on the top of its head. It gave off a horrible smell, like "long-dead meat." The creature stared at him and made a guttural sound like "gadarrah" and growled. After an agonizing stare down in which Schackelman earnestly prayed to God for rescue, the creature turned and slowly walked away.

In 1989 a 24-year-old woman, Lorianne Endrizzi, got a good look at the Beast while driving on Bray Road at about 1:30 A.M. She saw what she thought was a person hunched over by the side of the road. Slowing to a crawl to look, she was startled to see that the figure was part human and part wolf. The face was long and snouty and the eyes glowed yellow. It had a wide chest, pointed ears, big fangs, and a covering of gray-brown hair. The limbs and appendages were humanlike: The hands looked like human hands with claws; the hairy calves were muscular. The creature's arms were jointed like a human's, and it was holding what appeared to be roadkill in upturned palms. The creature stared at her until she drove away. Later, Endrizzi found an illustration of a werewolf that closely resembled the Beast.

Other sightings have yielded similar descriptions.

The Beast also has been described as bearlike, and ape-like and baboonlike, the latter giving rise to speculation about its relationship to Bigfoot (Sasquatch), and to legends about hairy "wild men" said to live in remote, wooded regions. According to Godfrey, the beast has striking similarities to the Dogman of Michigan, to the Lobizon of South America, and to other were-dog creatures reported in diverse locations around the world. It may have a relationship to the European lore of large, spectral black dogs or "hellhounds," such as Black Shuck of England. Black dog lore migrated to America: For example, the Snarly Yow is a spectral hound that haunts parts of Maryland. In Chippewa lore, the Witchie Wolves are spirit dogs that guard the sacred graves of warriors. Native American burial mounds are associated with a host of paranormal phenomena, including haunting ghosts and spirits, strange lights and noises, and mysterious forms.

Other strange creature sightings similar to the Beast are of a were-deer, or a hairy biped that runs with deer.

Reports of strange lights in the sky—possible UFOs—and mutilated domestic dogs and cats have been reported in areas where the Beast has been seen, but there is no conclusive link among the phenomena.

Animals mistaken for supernatural creatures do not seem a likely explanation for the Beast. According to Godfrey, one explanation put forward has also been advanced for other mysterious creatures and for Bigfoot: It may be a remnant of prehistoric times, an indigenous dogman creature who somehow survives in remote areas.

Text from The Encyclopedia of Vampires, Werewolves, and Other Monsters (Checkmark Books, 2005) by Rosemary Guiley

[lasudio]

VeronaHills, Round Twelve: Tricou (City)

"Lady Jennicor - I am so sorry."

Rainelle delivered her apology in great heaves, with her shoulders at her ears and fingers crushed into fists. One week and change after the undercroft was invaded by an oaf and an overlord (and she'd let it happen), the coffin lid swung open from the inside and Lady Jennicor Tricou rose from its plush interior. She was awake.

The increase in bat chitterings from the shadows had let Rainelle know the family were discussing something - likely, how much they trusted her to take care of the House of Fallen Trees, and when to come back and fire her - but the decision was ultimately Lady Jennicor's. Her hibernation was taken in classic (and comfortable) coffin form, citing her bat wings not being as strong as they were in youth. Rainelle, hearing the coffin creak, had thrown down her polishing cloth and ran to fetch the black lace-embroidered dress Jennicor had set aside to change into. She easily slipped off her nightgown as if she'd just had a single good night's sleep instead of hundreds.

"Have a seat by the pool, Miss Neengia." The order was delivered with upturned mouth corners - she'd noticed the rocks and water turning a portion of the space into a spring. Rainelle couldn't be sure in the moment whether this was a nice surprise or not. Maybe it just the cherry on top of the incident. In the end, Rainelle couldn't remain seated, so hot was her blood with shame, so she stood, her limbs scrunched up as if she a ball of paper ready to be thrown away.

The hand was cool when it slipped around her knuckles. "Rainelle." Her given name drifted across her, soothing aloe vera. "I'm proud of you."

She was Miss Neengia, the heiress of responsibility to serve the Tricou family and preserve their home in hibernation, keeper of the wine cellar, duster of the bunnies. She was also Rainelle, horror film-avoidant twenty-something, still holding on to her grandmother describing her as an ingénue. She fell to her knees and sobbed in Jennicor's lap. As the Lady applied her cooling embrace, bats joined them. One by one, in puffs of purple-tinged smoke, the daughters, husbands, and grandchildren appeared, surrounding Rainelle in a swath of greyish-green skin and gothic fashion from decades past.

Rainelle knew the family tree well from her grandmother cracking open the family photobook and introducing her. She didn't expect the daughters to immediately divorce their husbands on returning to human form but they had their reasons (after a long time to think, Nylissit realised she was a lesbian, and Jennail felt the spark was gone). The grandson was warmer than the granddaughter but there was still time to earn trust.

For Lady Jennicor's part, she seemed happy to be back. Rainelle, producing generous pours of dark wine, spotted her idly running a finger down one of her fangs, her eyes crinkling and sparkling.

It was an honour to retain the role of Miss Neengia.

[hypocriticaltypwriter]

A Moment Of Peace. [Lost Girls AU]

Notes: Fluff. Like- tooth rotting fluff because I need to INDULGE yall, life's been hard LOL 🙏. And the boys being daddys has my brain ROTTING.

Warnings: Pregnancy, mentions of Pregnancy. Flirting and a little bit of kissing but nothing NSFW. Meant for ages 15+. Enjoy~!

Chrysta's hands worked at a delicate but quick pace, her thumb gently making contact with the end of the sharp needle strung securely between the two fabrics she was stitching together.

She admires her handiwork so far, seeing the small patch of purple polka-dots among the many different bits of clothing sewn carefully upon any tears or holes in the long wavy skirt that sat upon her lap. She looks at it with a smile, proud of herself whilst she holds it out to look at it against the dim candlelight in her nest, hidden away deep into the low ground of the cave.

Her attention is quickly pulled from her stitching to the sound of hushed whispers and giggles, echoing so faintly along the walls along with the low rumble of thunder and crashing waves outside.

She takes the thin indigo threat hanging from her needle and pulls it tight between her left bottom and top fang, cutting it. She places the needle in a safe, flat crevice to not be lost into the many sheets, blankets, and pillows swarming the small nest. The whispers that had yet to cease grew more indistinct as she moved from her sitting position to get atop her knees, leaning ever so slightly forward, looking through the sheen cloth hanging loose and low around the entrance of her nest working as some sort of curtains.

She reached a hand out to gently pull it away, just to see the world of the dim cave from beyond the foggy, cream tinted fabric in her way.

The small upturn splayed on her lips out of curiosity quickly grows with amusement and a swell in her undead heart. The four little bodies all huddled together against a perch near the rafters in the caved in hotel weren't that hard to miss.

"Quit pushing!"

"No fair, I wanna feel!"

"It tickles!"

"Ow, that's my foot!"

Chrysta can't help but let out a low breath through her nose at the amusing scene, finding her head giving a slight shake while she watches the small squabble between sisters a little longer.

Anastasia sat atop the perch her other sister's either crawled onto the top of or stood on their tippy toes to reach over. Her arm was outside the small cave opening, her pale hand with her fingers spread out and feeling the cool rainwater gently sprinkle down the palm of her hand.

Jennifer was fighting against Tiffany to have both their hands fit through it at the same time, pushing and shoving one another as they continued to not understand the concept of sharing- all while Katherine tried her best to even peek through and see the pale moonlight leaking in behind the thick grass Anastasia had also pushed away with her hand. The young girl trying desparely to peek through her sisters legs or between their bodies.

"Girls?" Chrysta called out, her voice ringing faintly against the caved walls, but not too loud it was booming. It was enough to have four heads quick turn to look at her, their eyes glowing a bit in the dark.

"Come back to bed with me. Your dad's will be back soon." She states with a small wave of her hand to behind her, watching them all exchange looks between each other before obeying their mothers request.

Tiffany pushes away Jenny and Kat, who quickly tale behind her as she runs halfway down the perch, and when she's low enough to the ground, jumps down the rest of it. Her sisters are following.

"It's no fair!" Tiffany whines a bit. "I wanted to go hunting tonight!"

Chrysta chuckles at the sight, the sound of bare feet pattering against the floor getting louder and louder as they grow closer and closer to the entrance of the nest.

Tiffany all but leaps through the opening and tumbles into the comfort and warmth of pillows and her mother's body, smiling content while nuzzling her face into Chrysta's waist.

Jennifer hurries next, getting in a more proper way, crawling through the thick layer of comforter and sheets and laying next to Tiffany.

And Chrysta quickly helps Kat inside next, grabbing the girl by her outstretched hand above her head and lifting her inside, the girl finding assurance at the opposite side of her mom that wasn't occupied by her other sisters.

"Yeah, they promised we could go tonight!" She explains her complaints along with Tiffany, hugging onto her mother's arm and looking at her for a reason or answer.

"They always say that, Kat." Anastasia's voice called, a small hint of annoyance laced into the words - only earning her Kat blowing a raspberry at where she still sat atop the perch near the rafters

Only three girls had gotten in with Chrysta so far, and she was quick to notice, looking back to see Anastsia still sat, her eyes once again strained outside, watching the storm and the pure rainwater glistening and dripping softly from rocks and grass. Her face was illuminated by pale light of the moon, enough for Chrysta to see the calm yet longing look on her eldest daughters face.

"Annie, come on," Chrysta ushered again, a small, hopeful smile on her lips as she made eye contact with Anastasia, motioning with her head to her other daughters. "Join us."

Anastasia twisted the strings of her night gown between her fingers a bit anxiously, her lips forming a tight line for a second as she shifted her gaze back to the opening in the cave. "Maybe in a minute." She replied, her voice quiet. But Chrysta heard.

The brunette watches her daughter's figure a little longer, a sympathetic frown falling on her lips, but she gives an understanding nod and decides to leave it at that.

Chrysta knew no matter how many times she said it didn't bother her, how any times she sounded annoyed when her sisters complained about not being able to join hunting, Anastasia truly did feel a bit disappointed or left out when her father and his mates left to go hunting, leaving her, her mother, and sisters behind.

She was jealous, and she was upset. She felt she was old enough - she was twelve after all, even if her sisters couldn't join, she was old enough to leave the cave for any other circumstances besides just a night on the boardwalk. Right?

"Mommy, how come we can't go hunting yet?" Kat spoke up finally, sitting atop her knees and hands placed on her lap with her head held high and looking at her mom expectantly. "Daddy said we could go next time - he even pinky promised!" She said, holding her hand out and wiggling her pinky finger.

Chrysta sighs a little, bringing her hands up to brush away the crazy dirty blonde curls framing Kat's face, cupping her small cheeks for a second as she looks into her deep, glistening puppy-dog eyes.

"You know they can be forgetful." She states simply, bringing her hands down to the zipper of Kats onsie and zipping it fully up to her neck, given the girl had tugged it down loosely to her collarbone. "But they are just as forgetful as they are protective. You're still young, all of you. It's risky taking you out when you aren't big enough."

Kat's pout only furthers as her bottom lip studs out, bringing a hand up to scratch and pry at the collar of her onsie with a grumble.

"But I'm old enough!" Tiffany speaks up next, lifting herself up from where she  had nestled into her mothers pillows, pointing her thumb to her chest she had puffed out proudly. "Seven is a big kid age, and I lost both my baby fangs already! Jenny hasn't even lost her bottom set yet."

"Hey!" Jennifer pushes her sister harshly into the pillows again, using the traction to lift herself up and glare down at her, it only gets worse as Tiffany, in return giggled and squealed into the pillows at the action.

"Girls." Chrysta states sternly, seeing an argument about to break out. She pats the area in front of her where her legs are criss-cross, Tiffany quickly filling that space and sitting in the same position with her back tuned to her mom, head held high and arms folded tightly over her chest. Sticking her tongue put at Jenny, who returns the gesture.

Chrysta began to pull the braids, ties, and few bits of leaves and sticks from Tiffany's hair, letting a small slience fall on them before she continued, just to let the girls little spat calm down for a moment.

"As happy as I am that you are all very confident in yourselves, it's very dangerous and the chances of you getting caught are high." She begins, letting Tiffany's sandy blonde, mane-like hair fall from its pigtails, wrapping the decorated rubber bands around her wrist.

"Me and your fathers just want to play it safe and have you wait a bit longer, I'm sure the time will go by quickly."

It was an answer, but not one the girls wanted, obviously. Chrysta saw their moods only sour more. The pouts outnumbered her reassuring smile as they all looked to their hands or laps with disgruntled noises of agreement.

Chrysta gently tugs at the soft strands of blonde hair for a moment before letting Tiffany free with a quick straighten of her pajama top before she hurried back over to her mother's side. Jennifer took her place and awaited a nightly braid in her dark brown hair.

"Besides," Chrysta began again, running her dark red nails through Jenny's hair, separating a few sections into parts as she does so. "When Jenny and Annie go off with their dads very soon, I'll need help with the new baby coming. Won't I?" Chrysta mentions as her gaze falls between Tiffany and Kat, finding she had their attention on her again.

Kat and Tiffany look to each other with their mother between the two of them before their gaze goes to her tummy. The usually tight tanktop curled a little bit over the small bumb forming on Chrysta's figure visible to their eyes.

"I guess..." Tiffany comments through the corner of her lips as she plays with the buttons on her pajama shirt, while Kat places her arms on her mother's thigh, resting her chin atop her crossed arms She stares at the bump a little longer, her legs kicking behind her absentmindedly, the noise of her little feet making contact with the fluffy surface beneath her causes Chrysta to glance down at her through the corner of her eye, pausing in her braiding of Jennifer's hair.

A faint smile forms on her face as she quirks a brow. "Do you think it's going to be another girl? Or a boy?" She asks, bringing Kat's gaze back up to her.

Her eyes immediately brighten at the question, and a grin spreads across her chubby face as she replies instantly. "I hope it's a boy! There are too many girls, and I need a brother!" Kat says, her kicks quicken as she grew excited.

"No way!" Tiffany cuts in, throwing her hands up above her. "Boys smell. Oh, and all the daddy's snore too loud as well. I don't want any more boys!"

"But Daddy Paul says if mommy has any more girls, he's gonna pull his fangs out!" Kat responds to her sister.

"I hope it's a boy so dad doesn't have to give all his claw and teeth jewelry away, and I get to keep it." Jennifer responds as Chrysta finishes the long braid that goes all the way to her lower back, secure as no strands fall loose from it.

Chrysta just laughs at the small dispute and comments made with the question she offered, hearing the girls go back and forth, but it is a wholesome manner rather than an argument. She looks back up over to where Anastasia still sat, barely having even moved since the last time Chrysta had looked at her.

"What do you think, Annie?" She tries to include the platinum blonde, earning a small head crane toward her as Anastasia had heard her name. "Boy or girl?" Chrysta offers.

Anastasia looks off into space for a second, her brow furrowing and eyes narrowing as though she's thinking. The faintest of smiles grew on her lips as she looked back at her mom. "A girl. I just know it." She finally answers in a matter of fact way, a confidence in her voice that made Chrysta quirk a brow.

"Oh? And how are you so sure?" She smirks, putting a hand on her hip.

She watches Anastasia shrug, looking back outside, resting her chin in the palm of her hand, her smirk matching Chrysta's. "Cause I caught dad betting with Marko, Paul, and Dwayne on it being a boy."

As she says it, all the girls make an 'ooo' sound as though they were a bunch of women catching up on the newest hint of gossip- breaking into giggles as Chrysta's mouth falls open and agape at the confession.

"You sneak!"

The sudden, new and yet familiar voice exclaiming through the cave made all the girls jump- especially Anastsia, who let out a shrill squeal of surprise when a face suddenly blocked the vision of outside from her through the opening she was looking at.

"Dad!" She shouts angrily, muffled against her hands as she peeks through them to see David's face in all its glory (upside down) looking at her, a large, fanged grin on his face as he can't fight the chuckle that leaves his throat seeing he got the exact reaction he was going for.

It wasn't long before all the girls hidden away in Chrysta's nest hurried out with excitement at the arrival, running to the cave entrance when what followed the sound of David's laugh was more from other people, along with the sound of accessories chiming and echoing. A noise they all grew to know meant that dad's were home.

"Daddy!" They all shouted in sync, running to each individual body that were in just as much as a hury to see them as well.

Marko was quickly tackled in the legs by Kat, who wrapped her limbs firmly around his calf, giggling happily as he in return hopped around on one foot, lifting his other leg to look at her.

Tiffany jumped up and down while tugging at the hem of Paul's jacket, her laughter turning into a squeal of joy as he immediately scoops her up into his arms, throwing her in the air before catching her and holding her to his hip, nuzzling the end of his nose against her own.

Jennifer is almost instantly held in Dwayne’s arms, holding her secure and safely as he spins her around, just to hear her quiet giggles, resting his chin atop her head.

Anastasia hurries down from the perch just in time for David to follow after into the entrance, taking his eldest daughter into a tight- soggy embrace due to himself and the other boys being sopping wet from the rain (and additional blood dripping from their chins, and staning their lips) but she doesn't seem to mind, burying her face into his chest as he rubs her back soothingly, whispering something teasing about how he told her to keep the bet a secret.

"Guys!" Chrysta's voice cuts in, folding an arm over her stomach with a heavy groan. "You're gonna get the girl's pajamas wet and messy!" She explains while throwing the curtains back to fully see them all, her arm still outstretched to hold it back.

"Oh, is someone feeling left out?" Marko teases, bringing Kat up to cling onto his back instead, peeking over his shoulder at her mom.

"Does someone need a little wet love too?" Paul comments next to Marko, the two both looking at each other with a mutual agreement on what was about to happen.

watching the mischevious grins fall on each of their faces- including the girls - Chrysta finally realizes what he's insinuating. Her eyes go big, pointing her finger at them accusingly and giving it a small wave.

"No, don't you dare!"

"You brought this on yourself, Chrissie." David chuckles, taking a slow, threatening step toward her hiding away in her nest.

"You're not getting my blankets wet! Get out!" Chrysta tries to argue and demand, but it seems it's too late.

She barely even noticed Tiffany and Kat leaving Paul and Marko before the girls tackle their mother into an embrace that causes her to fall onto her back with a scream, which quickly grows into loud laughter.

Marko quickly jumps into the heavy mountain of pillows at her side, causing the nest to bounce a little with the sudden weight, making the girls give a little 'wee!'

Paul follows Marko... Except he falls right onto the top of Chrysta and the daughters, arms out to wrap them up in his embrace. It makes Chrysta grunt at the sudden ambush while the girls squealed and squirmed to try and get out of from under his weight.

Dwayne decides to be a little more gentle on his poor wife, only laughing and grinning at the scene as he sits close to the opening, one leg hanging from the edge of the opening. Jenny, however, is quick to join the pile of bodies, Jenny climbing atop of Markos back and sitting on him as he fakes groans of pain while she bounces up and down giggling.

"Mercy Jen, mercy! I may be immortal, but I have an old dad back now!" Marko says, reaching his hand up behind him to tickle her side, which ceases her actions for a second while she tries to push his hand away.

David follows Dwayne on the opposite end of the opening, Anastasia leaning against his side, curling up against him snugly as she watches the scene with a big grin, hugging her knees close to her chest.

"Okay, okay, I yeild!" Chrysta shouts while waving her arm out above her head, trying to make her voice loud enough to be heard over the giggles and muffled chatter. "Now get off before you squish me and my baby!" She jokes, her legs out at each of Paul's sides, kicking a little to get him to move.

He does, only after stealing a quick kiss from her, before he rolls over, taking Kat and Tiffany in each of his arms. He sits upright,  shaking out his damp mane of rainwater dripping from the ends. The action left the droplets flying everywhere, sprinkling onto Kat and Tiffany as they giggled and sheild themselves from the inside rain.

Kat escapes it by quickly moving to where her father sat with Jenny still sitting atop his back, peeking an eye open to see her grab his limp arm and place her tiny body under it, snuggling up to his side and bringing her nose close to his cheek, feeling the small scratch of stubble against her nose as she nuzzles him.

Chrysta sits upright, fixing her crazed curls while licking away the bit of blood Paul had left stained on the corner of her lip. She looked at her slightly dampened clothes now, giving a glare to each of the bodies all curled up in her nest, but the twinkle in her eyes showed the glare was all bark and no bite.

"You're all brats." She pouts, looking down at Marko, who only gave a smug, lopsided grin whilst Kat licked away at the remaining splotches of blood against his cheek and chin. Like a kitten would lap at an offer of milk dampening the end of your finger.

"She missed us." David replies sarcastically, almost as though translating what Chrysta was saying as he looks between the boys, a smirk faint on his lips. He folds his arms while kicking his legs up and crossing them along the edge of the opening into the nest, watching as the little coven of vampires got comfortable in the warmth of blankets and bodies.

Chrysta just rolls her eyes at the comment. But he wasn't lying.

"But it is bedtime for you four. It's time to get some shut eye." David orders calmly, nudging Anastasias back with his shoulder where she leaned against him. That earned him whines from the boys and daughters alike.

"But I wanna stay up! I'm not even sleepy!" Tiffany argues, only to have a yawn follow, Paul mimicking it.

"Tough. You need to get used to sleeping during the day." Paul stretched, arching his back a little, which makes his chest puff out and push Tiffany off his lap, making her fall into her back with a grunt, followed by a laugh as she kicks her legs in the air against his thigh.

"True, and Papa Paully needs his beauty sleep." Marko comments playfully, standing to be on all fours, making Jenny roll off his back and to be quickly caught by Dwayne and David's legs so she doesn't fall out of the nest.

"Damn right, I do." Paul merely agrees with the joke meant to insult him, grabbing Tiffany by her ankles and lifting her up in the air, making her continue to squeal and cackle, looking around at the world now upside down. "Now, say goodnight to Ma." Paul lowers Tiffany down a bit behind him so she can grab his shoulders, letting go of her legs and feeling them hit his back before wrapping around his torso, her arms doing the same around his neck.

Kat climbs up Marko’s arm, getting a little help from him as he uses his unoccupied hand to lift her up onto his own back, feeling her follow Tiffany's actions and cling onto him.

"G'night, Mama." Marko says, placing a kiss to Chrysta's knee and giving it a small pat. "Night, Mama." Kat repeats after Marko, letting him lean forward a little so she can place a kiss where he did. But she takes the moment with how close she is to place a little pat to her moms belly. "Night, baby. I hope you're a boy."

It almost made Chrysta's poor undead heart start beating again, giving a little laugh. She leans over to place a kiss atop both her curly haired loved ones in return. "Love you, sugar." She speaks into Kats' hair, almost fighting the urge to keep them there a little longer as Marko pulled away and crawled toward the opening of the nest.

"Night, Mama." Tiffany calls, giving a sleepy wave as she rests her head in the crook of Paul's neck, blowing away his sand blonde mane that tickles at her cheek and nose.

"See ya, Dime-peice." Paul gives a quick kiss to Chrysta's cheek before following after Marko and hiking up toward the rafters hidden deeper into the cave, carrying Tiffany on his back the whole way.

Anastasia watches them walk away, seeing Paul kick a rock in the way of the opening she was peering through moments before. Blocking out the moonlight that'd soon become skin searing sunlight. She then glances up at David, seeing him looking at the exact place she was, watching intently and making sure his coven had gotten to their sleepaway safely. And he sensed the eyes in him, his gaze falling back to Anastsia, not saying anything other that raising his eyebrows a little with a small head tilt.

"Are you gonna join us in the rafters tonight, dad?" She asks, letting her hold around her legs slack a little.

David gives a small shake of his head, putting an arm around her as he sees a bit of disappointment cross Anastasia's face at the non-verbal answer. "Can't. I need to keep close to your mom until the baby's born, and she can join us again."

Anastasia knew it was true, given someone had to keep an eye on Chrysta while she's more vulnerable - yet she couldn't help but begin to miss the company of Chrysta and David sleeping in the rafters beside her. Still, she knew there wasn't much she could do, and it wasn't like they'd never come back, and when they would, it'd be with a new baby sibling. So she supposes she has something else to look forward to in the next seven months.

"If you get lonely, you can come back down any time you want, you know that." Chrysta steps in, giving Anastasia a comforting rub on her arm, David giving her shoulder a squeeze.

The blonde gives a small nod, looking between her parents with a small sigh. "Yeah, I know." She says, offering a small smile, placing her head against David's shoulder for a second, which gets her a quick kiss atop her forehead in return.

Dwayne stands outside the entrance now, a sleepy-eyed Jenny on his back as she hides away her face into his hair. He holds a hand for Anastasia to take, which she gladly does so with the offer to help her out, giving a small wave behind her to David and Chrysta.

"Night." She says, still holding Dwayne’s hands as they make their way to the rafters to join the rest of their coven, safe and hidden away from the sun and danger of outside.

Chrysta watches them all with a bit of longing, just a little sad she or David couldn't join them yet, especially feeling just a bit guilty to leave Anastasia by herself.

"And then there were two." David's voice brings Chrysta from her thoughts, looking toward her with half lidded gaze as the exhaustion of the night out began to kick in, but he grinned at her nonetheless.

"Three, actually." Chrysta corrected with a smile, feeling a little clever as David gives a small eyeroll while joining her at her side, letting his body relax into the comfort of her nest, given he was already getting used to spending his days sleeping there. He let's go of the breath he was holding, let any tense muscle in his body calm.

"Right... Right. Three." He comments, his voice gravelly and muffled against the skin of her shoulder as he closes his eyes, throwing an arm over Chrysta as he lays on his stomach, the side of his he'd laid against pillows and his breathing slow and warm against the skin of Chrysta's shoulder. His hand rubbing small circles into the side of her stomach.

She looks toward him as he looks as though he's asleep, but she knows he's still awake... Even if it's barely. She plays with the cuff of his jacket and his glove, feeling the way his fingers tense or twitch a bit with the faint feeling of her own hand.

"Hm?" David hums lowly, already knowing from the nervous touch of his mate something was up. His eyes stayed closed, but he felt the traction of Chrysta turning her head to him.

"You can go join Annie and the others in the rafters if you want." She whispers, bringing her arm up to run her fingers up the back of David's neck through where his mullet grew out. "I can take a night by myself."

"I ain't about to leave you in here, by yourself." David countered, his voice wary and a little stern, but it grew a little softer, running his hand against her side for any hint of comfort in his touch. "Anastasia will be just fine. It's only a few more months and it isn't the worst thing in the world."

"I know, I know... But are you okay with it?" Chrysta questions, moving some of the still wet strands of hair from his resting face, not seeing any reaction to her touch or words at all. Vampires really do sleep like the dead.

"I sleep perfectly fine when I know my coven is safe. My coven is safe and protected. I'm okay." He reassures, his voice still a little slurred and monotone as he tries to keep wake to aid his mate with anything or any of her worries, and Chrysta can't help but feel a little better knowing that, giving him a smile she's aware can't see, but he understands. He can feel that sudden peace of the moment and calm silence shared between them.

"If you say so. Then I'm okay, too." Chrysta whispers against his forehead, placing her soft lips against his cold brow.

David answers by giving her a tight tug toward him, his arm over her body brings her closer as he buries his face into the crook against her shoulder, placing a kiss to her neck, soft and innocent while exhaling a calm breath through his nose against her collarbone.

"That's it... Now go to sleep."

Chrysta hides the bottom half of her face into his bleach-blonde hair, breathing the scent of rain and his natural musk intoxicating her lungs. She holds the breath a little longer as she closes her eyes, letting it go after a second as her body goes heavy against David's.

A rare moment where she finally felt at peace.

[yourthirdparent]

quick little liu kang focused drabble cuz he's on the mind. also on ao3 if you'd like to read there

It's something in the way Liu Kang presents himself.

Typically, he's all classical calm, stoic, guiding students and champions with a kind yet firm hand. The crease between his eyebrows is barely there, and his eyes are set in an easy professional stare, blinking evenly as though manual. His body wound tight and his muscles forced steady to hide anything underneath. A comfortable facade, one he's so used to portraying that it falls over his face and his body like a second skin and sloughs off no less painfully.

When around those he trusts with his life but not his soul, with the raw flesh under his skin but not the bones that flesh protects, he relaxes, softens. His muscles are no longer held tight, the slight, hardly noticed tremor of his hands disappears, and the corners of his lips raise ever so slightly, as though pleased with peace and company alone.

If you catch him in the wrong moment of that peace, you can see his distant, wistful sadness, eyes gone soft, glowing dimly, lines and creases smoothed and eyebrows upturned. If you manage to get close enough to him, you can see that the glow of his eyes is mostly a mirror effect of itself, provided by tears that well in his eyes and never fall. You can see the subtle shake of his hands and how they seem to reach forward, as though chasing visions. When he turns towards you, you can see the way his eyes seem to stare through you, the way they stare through everything and everyone. If he realises you've noticed him, he slips back into his calm. He winds back up, his hands still save for that ever present tremor from how hard he forces them stiff.

If you catch him in worse moments, around people he hardly trusts with his presence, being taunted or threatened, you can see the cracks in his facade, his stifled anger. His lip curls into what looks like a deep set frown but upon further observation appears to be a slight snarl. His eyebrows furrow down hardly enough to be seen or interpreted only because he forces them up. His eyes’ glow seems to waver, brightening, then dimming at the same time as his brows raise, like he forces the glow to soften as well. His hands clasp his wrists behind his back, as though balancing his slight lean forward. His words come out even and measured, often softer than normal unless caught by surprise.

Only seen once, when others are in danger, something angry tears through him, a primal rage, shedding his skin and flesh and revealing the bones underneath. His tattoos seem to shift, dragons growing snarling faces. Their inked scales spread across his arms, seeming to become his own. His lips spread openly into a sneer and his tremor stills entirely, perfectly still, perfectly even. His eyes grow as bright as fire, and his fists grow hotter than any flame. His teeth act as fangs and his hands act as claws as he lunges forwards and attacks his target, tearing them apart with sheer force. In these moments, he looks more like a dragon than a god.

Once he's completely eliminated the threat, crushed bones and a mess of unrecognisable viscera on the ground, hands covered in flesh torn to shreds and mouth dripping with blood, once all others are secured, he carefully grows back the flesh. He's vulnerable like this, relying on trust that no one will hurt him as he recovers. He's frail, delicate, holding onto the nearest surfaces for support but refusing to accept help from anyone still as he stands wide to keep himself from collapsing on shaky legs. He keeps his head down, eyes hidden from view if they're open at all. He flinches at sound, at touch, and he hides away from others for hours or even days before he returns, calm, stoic.

He moves like every action he takes is carefully chosen to protect what lurks underneath his layers of masks. He fights like there's something underneath, like if the hateful bones of his draconic skeleton were shattered then there would be more inside.

Perhaps, under his clean, carefully maintained distance, under his soft pleasure and hazy longing, under his animalistic, protective rage, he hides his frail mortality.

comment on ao3!!

[dragimalsdaydreams]

[image ID: two images of the same front-view, full-body screenshot of Kuki Shinobu from the game Genshin Impact.

the first image is an unedited screenshot of how Shinobu appears in-game. she has pale skin, and light green hair pulled into a roughly swirl-shaped bun with some red rope. a black mask with fang-like patterns covers the bottom half of her face. Shinobu's wearing a purple/pink, crop-cut jacket, a large red/gold pauldron on her right shoulder, a black mesh crop-cut tank (exposing her midriff), black/purple short-shorts, black/red gradient stockings with red/gold thigh guards strapped on top, partly fingerless red/black gloves, and black/red open-toed, mesh shoes. most of the outfit has additional gold decals/patterning, and red/magenta rope accessories.

the second image is a heavily edited version of the first image. Shinobu's mask now has purple/red/gold decals and more emphasized fangs. her jacket is longer, covering her back up to the hem of her pants (though the open jacket still leaves her midriff bare at the front). the left shoulder of the jacket is also falling off the shoulder a bit, leaving more of that bare shoulder exposed. the short shorts have been changed into hakama pants, with loose legs that are pulled to a taper at the shins, in a color scheme/style matching the original stockings. shin guards over top the pants match the style of the original thigh guards.

end ID.]

YIPPIEEE this one was fun. not the shin guards, but the rest of it was fine lmao. apologies for not transferring the guards perfectly accurately, some of the shapes frustrated me, especially on the rotated right leg. just don't look too hard, lmao

a few extra notes under the cut~

btw, sorry if "hakama" isn't the right term for these pants, but that term kept popping up when I was looking for "samurai-style" pants, though other reference images for hakama look a bit different to me? maybe they're just worn differently in this style, but please correct if I'm wrong haha

anyways, I started this project with the pants in mind, like usual, but I'm actually most proud of the mask this time! lemme zoom in for ya

[image ID: the original and redesigned images, each cropped to Shinobu's face.

the original mask is solid black, with a few subtle red decals to the far sides of the mask. the "nose" bit is an angular, dull bronze diamond, and the "teeth" are just a simple, jagged line bisecting the mask horizontally. darker black half-circles to either side of the teeth suggest a gaping jaw.

the redesigned mask has more decorative red/purple/green decals surrounding the different features. the red nose now has a pronounced, upturned nose shape, with nostril holes for breathing. the gold teeth are now distinctly carved as well, with large, curved, overlapping canines, and small, simple incisors. the darker black half-circles to the sides still give the teeth a gaping impression.

end ID.]

Shinobu's original mask is just sooooooooo boring, y'know? very disappointing for a member Arataki 'Numero Uno' Itto's very important gang-- esp considering the man himself is, literally, an Oni. so I took inspiration from real Japanese Oni masks and gave Shinobu some big honkin' teeth, hehe~

[pocket-sized-nightmare]

my second entry for @mcyt-yuri-week!

prompt: post-canon

ship: nature wives (shelby/katherine), post-witchcraft smp!

There’s so much that’s changed since Empires, but the one thing that will always stay constant is the inordinate amount of blaze powder Shelby goes through in a month.

She has a new blaze farm now, far away from the Evermoore. It’s bigger and fancier, but unfortunately, it’s also a bit farther from her new house. Shelby usually goes alone, but Katherine insisted on coming along today. (She says it’s just to protect her partner, but Shelby is convinced she wants to test out her new battleaxe on some monsters.)

They hold hands as they walk across the nether wastes, and Shelby rambles about something new she’s learned. “I have to be really careful tomorrow. I don’t know if it’s totally true, but Cleo told me something back during the witch trials about penumbras messing with weather magic. I think it’s something about the shape of the shadows–”

“Penumbras?”

“Those weird shadows from a partial eclipse. There’s supposed to be one tomorrow.”

“Oh, no way!” Katherine gasps. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen one.”

“We should have a midnight picnic!” Shelby realizes. She stims with excitement for a moment, then scribbles the idea down on a crumpled piece of paper in her pocket.

To her surprise, when she puts the paper away and turns around, there’s a child in front of her mimicking her stims.

“Oh, hello!” Katherine says. The girl turns and runs away, then peeks out shyly from behind a boulder of netherrack. She’s clearly an Origin – not quite human, but not quite a full mob, either. Her hair is pink with a large white streak, and she’s short and chubby. Judging by her upturned nose and the sharp, fang-like teeth that show in her wide grin, she’s probably a piglin hybrid. She looks to be about nine or ten years old, and she clearly isn’t used to being around other people. Shelby notices the way the piglin nervously fidgets with her hair every time she sees Shelby or Katherine’s expression change, while Katherine realizes that her clothes are singed and ripped in ways that indicate she hasn’t been taken care of in years.

“Hold on a second,” Katherine says. She takes something out of her inventory and walks over to the girl. As Shelby watches from farther up the path, Katherine hands the piglin a tiny golden star charm from a necklace she’s been making. “This is for you!”

The piglin takes the charm and stares at it, moving it around to watch the way it catches the light. She smiles brightly. Katherine is about to walk away when she notices the piglin brush her tangled pink hair out of her eyes for what seems like the fifteenth time that minute. She reaches into her inventory and notices the two pink hair ties she keeps around for emergencies. “Hey, do you want me to tie your hair back? It’ll keep it out of your eyes.”

The piglin cautiously nods and sits down in front of Katherine. She takes out the hair ties and gently styles the girl’s hair into two pigtails. “There. Much better, right?”

The piglin makes a few happy squeaking sounds, squeezes Katherine’s hand gratefully, and scampers away. Katherine laughs as she walks back over to Shelby.

“Aw, you’re so good at that,” Shelby says. “She’s so sweet. I hope that little sprout’s okay.”

“Little sprout?” Katherine asks. “That’s adorable.”

“That’s what my grandma used to call me when I was a kid,” Shelby says with a sentimental smile.

They walk for a few more minutes before Shelby notices something wrong. “Whoa, stop!” She grabs Katherine by the arm and pulls her back.

“What happened?” Katherine looks around, then notices the source of Shelby’s concern. The ground below her is mostly netherrack, but she nearly stepped onto a large patch of gravel – gravel with nothing below it. “Oh, void. Thanks.”

“Anytime.” Shelby smiles and wraps an arm around Katherine. Katherine leans into her and rests her head atop Shelby’s.

“You’d think we’d be better at this whole Nether exploration thing by now,” Katherine chuckles. Shelby grins and elbows Katherine playfully. “Hey, speak for yourself. I’m great at this–” Katherine holds out an arm to stop Shelby from falling into a shallow pit.

Shelby puts her head in her hands, then rests her head against Katherine’s shoulder, laughing all the while. “What are we even doing today?” Katherine asks.

“Not well. We are not doing well.” Shelby picks up a piece of glowstone from the ground and studies it, then hands it to Katherine. “Here. A good-luck charm.”

“Why, thank you!” Katherine says in a jokingly formal tone, then takes a flower out of her pocket and tucks it behind Shelby’s ear. “And one for you, too.”

“Why, thank you!” Shelby says with a curtsy. 

They giggle together, then keep walking towards the blaze spawner. From out of the corner of Katherine’s eye, she sees a small blur of movement.

“Oh, hey!” Katherine grins and points to the other side of the path. The girl they saw before is back, hopping across the netherrack to collect tiny pieces of glowstone. She sees Shelby and Katherine and beams with excitement.

“Hi, kiddo!” Shelby calls. The piglin waves, thinks for a moment, then leaps forward and does a cartwheel for her new friends.

Katherine laughs and nudges Shelby. “Aw, she’s got so much energy. Reminds me of you.” Shelby giggles. 

Across the path, the piglin notices the gravel floor that Katherine nearly stepped on earlier. 

Shelby panics, grabs Katherine’s arm, and calls out to the girl. “Hey, little sprout, that isn’t stable–”

It’s too late. The tiny piglin girl joyfully dashes out onto the patch of floating gravel and digs her feet into it. As she kicks up tiny rocks, she realizes just a moment too late what she’s done as her feet sink through it.

“No!” Katherine shrieks as she watches the gravel give way and fall towards the lava below, taking the piglin with it.

The piglin manages to catch herself on a ledge and tries desperately to grip the netherrack and catch herself. Her nails dig into the cliff for a moment, but she isn’t strong enough to stop her fall. She slips off the ledge and falls into the ocean of lava with an awful squeak of terror.

Shelby and Katherine race to the edge of the cliff and look over it. There’s a terrifying moment where they both think she’s dead, but her head finally peeks out of the lava as she struggles to swim and reach the netherrack shore.

The second Shelby sees that the piglin is alive, she impulsively jumps into action. She takes out a fire resistance potion with one hand and grabs her broom with the other. Before Katherine can react, Shelby takes flight and dives towards the lava herself. “Be careful!” Katherine calls after her as she drops downwards.

The tiny piglin is putting up a good fight to survive. Shelby knows piglin hybrids can survive in lava for extended periods of time, but that doesn’t mean they’re immune to it. The girl is covered in burns, and she’s crying, but she’s alive, and her eyes light up when she sees Shelby come closer on her broom.

Shelby’s feet dip into the lava (thank goodness for fire resistance potions) as she comes close enough to reach her new friend. “I’ve got you! It’s gonna be okay!” She holds out her hand to the piglin, but she can tell from how stiff the girl’s grip is that her hands are burned too badly to hold onto anything.

Shelby takes a deep breath and murmurs a silent wish of please don’t let my broom catch on fire, then dips deeper into the lava to scoop up the tiny piglin herself.

The child goes limp in her arms as Shelby picks her up, but her heavy breathing makes it clear that she’s still alive. Shelby holds her closer and tries to untangle some of her singed pink hair. “Hold on, all right? My partner and I are gonna help you.”

Shelby’s used to flying fast and making sharp movements, but she does her best to work against her instincts and give her new friend a gentle ride. She still reaches the top of the cliff with ease and comes to a just-slightly-too-sharp stop at the top. Katherine reaches out and gently takes the piglin from Shelby’s arms. “She’s burning up.”

“You’d be hot too if you just came out of a lava lake.” Shelby flicks a few remaining drops of lava off her boots to prove her point. “Can you help?”

“On it.” Katherine gently lays the piglin down on the netherrack, then scans through her inventory and finds a small red shulker box with “first-aid kit” written in cursive handwriting. She turns back to the girl and says in a soft voice, “It’s okay. I have to patch myself up when I get hurt all the time. And don’t even get me started on her.” She points to Shelby, who laughs. The girl giggles a bit, too.

Katherine takes out a few things from the kit. “Okay. I’m gonna put some magma cream on your burns first, all right? It might hurt a little bit, but it’s gonna help them heal faster.” 

The piglin nods. Katherine takes a few dollops of magma cream and rubs them into the red, burned patches of the girl’s skin. She winces and squeaks as the touch stings, but she slowly relaxes as her burned skin slowly fades back to its normal pale pink.

“There. That feels nice, doesn’t it?” Katherine ruffles the piglin’s hair. “Okay, I have some potions for you now.”

The girl sticks out her tongue and shakes her head. Katherine bursts out laughing. “I know, little one. Potions taste bad sometimes. But Shelby makes really, really good ones. Like this one–” she takes out a level two healing potion– “tastes like watermelon and lemonade.”

The piglin takes the potion suspiciously, uncorks it, and takes a tiny sip. A grin spreads across her face as she drinks the rest of the bottle in seconds.

“See? Told you it was good. You can have this one, too. It’s strawberry- and mint-flavored, and it’ll help you heal even more!” Katherine takes out a level two regeneration potion, and the piglin happily drinks it. She squeaks happily and curls up against Katherine as the potions take effect. Katherine gently hugs her back. Shelby sits down next to them, and the girl leaps into her arms for an even tighter hug.

“What’s your name, little sprout?” Shelby laughs as she ruffles the piglin’s hair. The girl stops smiling.

“Can you talk?” Shelby asks softly. The girl shakes her head, thinks for a moment, then tilts her head sideways to indicate kind of.

“Sometimes, but not right now?”

The piglin nods. Shelby holds out her communicator so the piglin can type instead.

no name

“Did you ever have one?” Katherine asks.

not sure

i’ve lived here forever and ever

i think i had a name once but then everyone left

and so now i have no name

“Would you like a name?” Shelby asks. “I think I’m okay at naming things. I know a lot of magical weather and space things, if you want something like that.”

what’s weather?

Shelby freezes. “Oh, right, you’ve lived here forever. In the Overworld, we have a big, warm sun that shines over everything and helps green plants grow. And sometimes fluffy clouds cover the sky, and water falls down. That’s called rain. And at night, we have a moon that glows and a bunch of bright stars in the sky. You haven’t even seen the sky…”

i like the moon

and the sun

they sound pretty

“What was the thing you were telling me about?” Katherine asks. “The weird shadow when there’s an eclipse? That’s the moon and the sun at the same time.”

“That’s called a penumbra,” Shelby remembers, and the piglin nods and jumps up and down.

pretty!!!

“Do you want that name?” Shelby asks. Penumbra nods happily.

“And we can call you Penny, if you want!” Katherine adds. Penny hugs Katherine tighter than she’s ever been hugged before.

Shelby joins the hug. “Aww. It’s nice to meet you, Penny.”

Penny stays wrapped in their arms for a minute. As they hug Penny tighter, Shelby hears the piglin take a deep breath and murmur, “Let me stay?”

“What?” Shelby asks.

“Stay with you. Go home.”

Katherine and Shelby look at each other with the same expression of hope and love in their eyes.

“Of course,” Katherine whispers as Shelby scoops up her newfound family member and puts her on her shoulders. “Let’s go home.”

In the end, Shelby thinks as she steps back through the Nether portal with a smile on her face and a tiny piglin on her shoulders, this was always how it was going to turn out, wasn’t it? At the start of Empires, she and Katherine were just lost kids looking for acceptance. It’s been eleven years since then. They’ve found each other, they’ve found a family, and they’ve found a world that believes in them.

It’s their turn to show that same love to someone else.