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What about an s/o who has a pet elephant, that very rarely acts like a guard to the house, but is actually just pretty kind and tolerant to whatever the skeletons may do.
I hope whatever’s stressing you gets better! Good luck
-🖥️
Hi! 👋
Loves your elephant. He’s like a little kid meeting a big dog for the first time, hanging all over them and petting them with glee.
Cherrybomb, Plum, Heart, Killer, Ink
A little nervous around such a large animal! You’ll have to help him out, maybe hold his hand or something while he pets them?
Hello! I’d like the request how the boys’ reaction would be to their s/o who is a popular belly dancer? A bit more on the cultural side but still kinda sensual.
Hi! 👋
Honestly, I think just about any kind of dancing could be considered sensual or completely normal depending on the circumstances.
He finds it pretty interesting, especially since its history is so widely spanned across the world. You think he knows more Random Historical FactsTM about your job/hobby than you do.
Nightmare, Passive, Blue, Fresh, Template
Look. He’s… Him. But anyone but him makes inappropriate comments about your dancing and he’s putting them six feet under.
Hello! I’d like the request how the boys’ reaction would be to their s/o who is a popular belly dancer? A bit more on the cultural side but still kinda sensual.
Hi! 👋
Honestly, I think just about any kind of dancing could be considered sensual or completely normal depending on the circumstances.
He finds it pretty interesting, especially since its history is so widely spanned across the world. You think he knows more Random Historical FactsTM about your job/hobby than you do.
Nightmare, Passive, Blue, Fresh, Template
Look. He’s… Him. But anyone but him makes inappropriate comments about your dancing and he’s putting them six feet under.
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Imagine you're coming home after a long day of hunting, and the first thing you hear is your seven shitty kids screeching at you for no reason, how pissed off would you be, I'd immediately fly away too
Imagine you're the oldest of seven and a fucking HOA member broke into your HOUSE and SHIT AN EGG and is BITING at your siblings, but your dad shows so you try to tell him the problem but you're very little and you don't speak English and he doesn't speak English either so you can't communicate that a fucking GOBLIN is in your HOUSE and the only reason he doesn't know is cause his ASS was on that bitch's HEAD and he must've assumed it was one of your brothers and sisters but it was actually that FREAK WOMAN who got in, and now your dad is flying away 'cause he has no idea what's going on
Imagine you're a parent and you've calmed down and gone to get McDonald's for your seven kids, and you come home expecting to get cheers because you know the D's are always a winner, but when you fly back in through the door the kids are all still screaming, and it's not even excited screams but you don't know what's wrong so you just look into the camera like you're Jim from the Office
Imagine you're one of the small middle children and probably the one that this HOA WITCH was BITING after she broke into YOUR HOUSE and SHIT an EGG and you tried to be a good host by cuddling with her to congratulate her on her egg but then she started BITING and taking over your ROOM and threw out all your GOOSEBUMPS books and your eldest sibling couldn't call dad so you all just had to wait, and then dad comes home but your STUPID FAMILY won't stop SCREECHING to explain what's going on so your dad leaves but then comes back and he's brought McDonald's which is like yay but there is an INTRUDER, and finally your dad looks around the house and notices BITCH BIRD KAREN IN YOUR BEAN BAG CHAIR, and you're like ok dad can handle this but then you learn he's more scared than you?????
Imagine you're a dad and you just got home with McDonald's and WHO THE FUCK IS THAT IN MY HOUSE but luckily you have seven children and the mean one is willing to fight this bitch and you're just gonna chill in this corner until this problem is resolved even if your other kids are straight-up judging you
Imagine you're Kevin McCallister and you're doing Home Alone except you're not home alone 'cause your dad is home too but he's not helping, he's just holding a bag of McDonald's, so you have to be the head of this house at eight years old 'cause you're home alone emotionally but this FREAK ON AN EGG isn't leaving so you decide to screech at your dad and he's more scared of you than she is
Imagine you're a dad and your child has publicly shamed you in front of your other kids and this ASSHOLE KAREN and you decide you're not gonna take this shit anymore so you tell your kids that you paid for this McDonald's with your hard-earned bird money and they're gonna damn well eat this, so everybody stop looking at that side of the house and just eat your fucking french fries but then that fucking MONSTER starts BITING your only child willing to go into battle so you recognize this is a lost cause and throw the burgers on the counter and you remember you're an ADULT so you grab your car keys and fly the fuck away
Imagine you're all seven children and dad left you with the pigeon again
In these harrowing days where I try not to starve to death due to illness (a time honored tradition in humans). May I request some apple poly where one of them is sick and the other two have to take care of them?
hey this is late but i care you. i hope the illness didn't and does not get you!!!
“Don’t lay a hand on me.” Shattered’s voice was a ragged snarl, trembling with the last of his dwindling strength. He batted Sol’s fingers aside, shoulders coiled tight as if poised to flee—or strike. “You’re the reason I’ve turned into this…twisted mess. You and your revolting ‘Positivity.’ Just—stay away.”
Sol only laughed, a lilting, careless sound, and leaned in, pressing closer without an ounce of shame. He draped himself around Shattered as though the two were old lovers teasing at a masquerade ball, ignoring each weak swat of those desperate tendrils. “Oh, darling, you know you can’t blame me for any of this,” he purred, letting each syllable linger with a playful hint of cruelty. “After all, you were the one so eager to partake of my—”
“Don’t antagonize him any further.”
Dream’s voice cut in, firm but weary, slicing off whatever vulgarity Sol had been about to purr out. He set down a pot of Sea Tea he’d been saving for a rainy day. Whether it had gone stale or not was another matter entirely, but it would probably help.
A low, warning hiss escaped Shattered as he tried—and failed—to push Sol away a second time. It rippled into a raw, violent cough that doubled him over, golden ichor dripping in shining trails from the corner of his mouth.
Shattered’s breath hitched, his body curling inward before a violent cough tore through him, raw and brutal. A fresh splatter of golden ichor dripped from his mandible, thick and gleaming against his already stained jaw. Dream felt his stomach twist at the sight.
Too much.
The corruption was thinning, running from him like a body trying to purge poison. The towels beneath and around him were soaked through, tarnished fluid creeping across the fabric in glistening trails. It didn’t matter how many layers Dream placed beneath him—nothing could stop it from seeping into every crevice, marking everything it touched.
Shattered’s eyes flickered shut, his breath ragged. His body trembled with every spasm of pain, and still Sol lingered near, bright-eyed and infuriatingly amused.
Dream knew this game—if Sol saw a line drawn in the sand, he delighted in stepping over it. Again and again.
Afterall, he was more often than not a victim of it.
“Please,” Dream murmured, at last, pleading for peace. “He’s had enough. Let him be.”
Sol only offered a half-smile in reply, a serenade of mocking warmth. It was impossible to decide whether the glow in his mismatched eyes was genuine concern or merely the thrill of teasing a wounded creature.
Dream exhaled softly, pressing the folded towel against Shattered’s jaw, carefully wiping away the glistening ichor. The fever-bright glare Shattered shot him—defensive, raw—might have once been enough to ward him off, but Dream had long since learned better. He ignored it, tending to him with quiet patience, even as Sol loomed just behind, a presence Dream could feel more than see.
For once, Sol held his tongue. A small mercy.
“This probably won’t taste great,” Dream admitted, lifting the pot of Sea Tea and pouring a measured amount into a chipped cup. “But it should help settle… whatever it is you’ve got going on.”
Shattered scowled, looking as though he wanted to refuse on sheer spite alone.
But before he could voice his resistance, another cough wracked his frame, wrenching his body forward with a raw, shuddering force. Dream’s SOUL twisted at the sight, at the flecks of tarnished corruption spattering the already ruined towels, at the way Shattered’s breath rattled in his chest like something broken.
Without hesitation, he scooted closer, pressing the cup into trembling fingers.
“Shh, easy,” Dream murmured, nudging the rim of the mug to his teeth. “Just a sip.”
Shattered’s glare flickered up, bleary and full of smouldering resentment. But in the end, he relented, taking a small, reluctant gulp. The effort alone seemed to sap what little strength he had left. He coughed again, curling forward, and Dream steadied him instinctively, one hand pressing lightly against his sternum.
From the edge of his vision, Dream saw Sol shift, the usual smug curve of his lips deepening, slow and indulgent, like a cat kneading velvet. Don’t start, Dream thought tiredly.
“Oh, look at you,” Sol purred, syrup-sweet and languid, a lover’s whisper woven with mockery. “So fragile in Dream’s arms… If you wanted to be cradled, dear heart, you need only ask.” His voice lilted with amusement, but there was something else beneath it—something keen, something starved.
There was a surprising new note in Sol’s manner—though he all but radiated heat as always, he lingered just beyond touching distance. One arm draped across the back of the couch, his posture decadently relaxed, but he left a deliberate, careful space between himself and Shattered. It was an unspoken acknowledgment of boundaries he rarely cared to observe.
Dream noticed. He saw the way Sol’s gaze flicked over Shattered’s slumped shoulders, as though assessing the damage—maybe even feeling a flicker of concern behind that irreverent smirk.
Shattered, of course, bristled anyway. "Don’t look at me," he rasped, his voice raw, tattered with exhaustion. His eyelights flicked to Dream, dark with venom, dull with weariness. "You either."
Dream let out a patient sigh. “Honestly. We’re just trying to help.”
Sol hummed, a throaty, knowing sound. “We could do so much more, if you’d only ask nicely.”
Shattered tried to scoff, but the sound devolved into a series of harsh coughs. He doubled over, and Dream’s reflexes took over. In one motion, he slid an arm behind Shattered’s back, trying to steady him as the coughing rattled through his frail frame.
“Lean forward,” Dream coaxed, his voice quiet with concern. “It’ll pass.”
Though Shattered’s pride bristled, necessity won out. He slumped into Dream’s hold, letting the coughs subside in wavering gasps. The golden fluid at the corners of his mouth caught the dim light with each rasp. Dream dabbed it away, mouth pressed in a thin line of masked worry.
“You’re going to be all right,” he promised—though he wasn’t entirely sure he believed himself.
Silence hung between them, thick and expectant. Sol’s eyes drifted across the room—from Shattered’s trembling form to the pot of tea perched precariously on the table, then back to Dream. Even his usual arrogance softened, if only by a margin. His head tilted, as though he was contemplating moving closer, perhaps to brush a comforting hand over Shattered’s face. But he must have thought better of it; instead, he let his arm fall, draping it casually at his side in feigned disinterest.
“For someone who keeps telling us to go to hell,” he said, low and smooth, “you certainly don’t mind being coddled when it suits you, darling.”
Shattered’s eyelights narrowed, the protest on his tongue lost to the next shallow breath he forced through weary ribcage. “Maybe I’d mind less if… if you weren’t hovering like vultures.” The retort, half-snarl, half-sigh, faded as quickly as it came. His head tipped back, eyelights dimming in the gloom. “Just… let me be.”
Dream started to pull his arm away—only to feel a trembling hand clamp around his wrist, feeble but unmistakably deliberate.
He didn’t move. He didn’t say anything at all.
He didn't have to.
“Oh?” Sol tittered, saccharine and triumphant. “So, you like being pampered after all.”
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Their designs aren't too different from their original silhouettes, but I just changed a thing here and there to insert my own personal interpretations + headcanons <3
(I also really really REALLY like making character designs if you couldn't tell XD)
I'll be reposting more of old art from my Insta on here soon! I'm currently just busy with irl things and preparing for art fight
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming