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sleepydross · 11 months

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"Perimortem"

Chapter Three: Body And Blood

Warnings: Detailed Gore, dismemberment, vampiric feeding, significant destruction, violence, some implied sexual content.

Hi. Welcome to Chapter Three. Do me a favor okay? Mind the content warnings, I'll try to do them comprehensively on every chapter. Mind the tags, if you want to find story posts easily, search 'Perimortem Story,' every post will have this tag. If you like my work please reblog I guess, I'd like people to read it. <3 Thank you. I'll also include a link to chapter one, at the bottom. <3 >>>>>>.

"I'm telling you, Okvak, I'm… I'm… gonna throw up, no… No, okay. Guts settled, fuck. So I got Xuka alone last night, he and I had some… some fun," Pon slurred, drunkenly, and insistently. Okvak stared at his compatriot, an impite with four eyes, two arms, and a classic imp's tail, but an arachite's ears. He was cute, absolutely, even if he was a mess - and he was a MESS.

"There's no way. I've seen him with his knot out, he's fuckin' huge, man," Okvak said, lighting a cigarette and taking a drag. The impite beside him was pissing into the sand, and considering he was four foot nine, it was almost amazing how long he could piss. Okvak was flagging already, and it was annoying being beaten out on bladder capacity by a tater tot he could pick up and yeet over the horizon. "Like, it'd come out your mouth."

"Nah, nah. You know I've been practicing, besides, he's more girth than length," Pon told him.

Okvak, sighing, gave himself a shake and got to work on his zipper. He conceded, tiredly, with, "yeah… that's true. Still, one day, you're gonna sneeze and your guts will fly out your ass."

"Dude, gross, and no - too much Arachite in me, and you know, I had that geneslip a bit ago, make me more elas-"

There came a sound like the sharp TWIP of a bullet whizzing past, and something hit the sand twenty feet from the warehouse. Pon staggered backwards, wheezing, and frantically did up his pants. "That wasn't me, I didn't do that, my dick can't do that."

"Stop drinking on the job, fuckwit," Okvak muttered, lightly slapping the back of his head. "And zip up. We need to find out what the fuck that was."

"Do we have to? I don't see anything moving out there," Pon muttered - but he zipped up just the same, drawing his sidearm a soon as he could. His succubine compatriot flicked on his own sidearm's tac light, and they both peered at a cloud of thick dust. The air was unusually still for Vanity's Run. "Fuck, fine. I guess we do."

Both of them slipped on their stormguard helmets and marched off of the paved edge-drive around the warehouse, taking care to give their boots time to adjust once they were on the fine sands. That close to the pools, the sand started getting downright powdery at times - harder to walk on, without arachite feet, or hound feet… the Taurosi could manage well enough, too, with their wide hooves…

Neither of them were availed of such luxuries, and Okvak weighed enough that without mobility boots, he'd struggle.

"What do you think it was?" Pon asked, over their comms net, his mouth not making a sound.

"Who fucking knows. Came from centerward, could be some poor fuck got half eaten by some aerial asshole and it dumped the rest here," the big man replied in kind, relying on implants and his own voice library instead of his vocal chords. "Could be some test weapon from Vaingloria. Harkin labs firing off some new bullshit cannon and not giving a shit if-"

"Shut, the fuck, up," Pon hissed. They were deep in the dust cloud, and as it began to settle, they could see a mound in the sand, built up around something indistinct, hazy. "Why is it shit that hits the hardest never goes as deep as you expect, huh? In the sand, I mean?"

"Focus up," Okvak spat, holstering his sidearm, a dull dread rising up in him. "Something's wrong. Safties off. I'm invoking Unknown Threat protocols."

Pon turned to him, head tilted, and then holstered his pistol and took up his slung sub-machine gun, nodding. If Okvak was serious, he'd get serious - and he did, using his left hand to support the gun while he used his right to draw a rapid injector from his belt. With a hiss-SNAP, he dumped the payload into his neck, and shuddered as his kidneys kicked up and his liver went apeshit, purging the alcohol as fast as possible. He'd have to piss again, and it'd both be blue, and burn a bit, but…

But he and Okvak had run together so long that he wasn't gonna put his bestie at risk.

"Move around, approach left, I'll approach right, watch your field of fire," Okvak ordered. Pon sent a confirmation and stalked rapidly over the sand, silent in motion, SMG at the ready.

The impact site was really an impact trail, and whatever had hit had managed to hit at a relatively low angle. Glinting in the sand, chunks of luxencrystal were rapidly degrading, flaring brightly as their dust choked flashlight beams played over them, pale pink in color.

"…hey Pon, got a theory," Okvak said, softly.

"Love to hear it," the impite muttered. Both of them were ascending the glittering sand, and at the peak, they stopped, aiming their weapons down into the end of this bizarre impact.

"I think they threw someone from the sky, Pon," he said, frankly, as they stared at the smoldering two-thirds-of-a-creature laying motionless in the sand. "And whoever it was… somehow… managed to, while burning alive, build a sail out of luxencrystal to glide away from the pools."

"So we should shoot the fucker?" Pon asked - it was a serious question. The Reconnection of the planes had turned an already fucked up, scary world full of magic into an even more fucked up, even scarier world full of even more magic. Really, there was no telling what a smokey corpse with no lower legs could do - if it even was a corpse.

Answering that horrible dread in his gut, Okvak answered by pulling the trigger. The syncplants in their heads sent ghosts of the sensation to Pon, who opened fire with barely a millisecond of delay, a sonic boom meeting those from their bullets and rippling past them.

Both stopped, quickly, after only three shots from the succubus's shotgun, and seven rounds from Pon's weapon. The smoldering corpse was simply gone, their bullets having struck sand.

Both of them triggered their Last Call implants and prepared for the worst, quickly sliding down the mound to come together side by side at the bottom, the stink of burnt flesh still pervading the spot.

"We gonna die, Ok?"

"A roasty toasty terrible crispy corpse just moved so fast it kicked off a shockwave, buddy. We're fucked," he replied, without a hint of fear. "I'm ready. Are you?"

"As I'll ever be. Ain't like we haven't earned it," he hissed. "…like that botch job in Avarice…"

He looked to Okvak's headless corpse, blood squirting from messily torn arteries, hanks of muscle and tendons hanging in tatters, twitching oddly. Something, that corpse, probably, twisted his head off like the top off a fucking bottle.

"Well, shit, buddy, given what you did to that guy out in Grist, you fuckin-"

Pon's words died in his throat, when it split as his head was twisted viciously and abruptly. Charred fingers twisted it around a second time and then ripped, pulling the skull and head away and casting it far into the sand. A rasping, choking thing hauled itself too-rapidly over the edge, tumbling in its quickness - and blood flowed from open veins onto it, triggering instinct.

Instinct was all that was left.

Crunching its own charred flesh, the legless corpse rolled, clawing its way up the smaller one and pressing its skull to the remains of its neck. Minutes passed, as blood flowed into its ruined maw… and then muscle fibers began to peel away, discarded, ruined. The charred flesh, ruined fur, all of it sloughed slowly off as this thing drank, eventually gulping the blood up, lapping at it, its face growing back first.

But the small one only had so much blood, and it scrambled to the other and kept sucking. For a moment it hesitated, and then… it retched as its lower jaw split, and tentacular effusions erupted forth - and then, guided by that same horrible instinct… it forced those 'tongues' into the largest vessels. This creature's ribs split, and its back expanded as it sucked, before jets of faint steam burst forth from expanded torso, and it deflated.

Tiny pops emitted from near its spine as those ribs reconnected.

When it reared back, its tentacular feeding tongues jerked free of the corpse, and it left the creature panting, on its knees, muscles weaving around sluggishly crystalizing bone.

"…legs…" it rasped.

"Some injuries require more substantial feeding, good you learn that now," The Thing You Can't Defeat said, blithely. "Come on, eat up. If you don't, you'll finish dying."

Grunting, the half-skinless creature bowed its head, and used its canine-like houndite jaws to rip and tear at the flesh. It gagged. It choked. It tried to throw it up, begged for itself to - but it wouldn't.

It couldn't.

That vicious instinct overtook her, overwhelmed her, and for a time… she was just a thing, again, an animal. The Thing You Can't Defeat watched in earnest, as this wretched, sobbing thing ate more and more, stripping to the bones. Bone crystalized rapidly. Almost before the toes were done boning up, in fact, muscle tissue had woven down through the ankle and into the upper foot, tendons unspooling amid regenerative 'legging.'

TTYCD had always enjoyed legging, meki particulate tracing lines through the air as it 'printed' the tissue, like a mass of needle-thin-legged spiders engulfing the area.

It had mere moments to appreciate this as the voracious abomination sucked marrow from bones and then chewed them down for the calcium, its triple-jaw powerful, delightfully so. In minutes, the larger corpse was naught but bone shards and tatters, the sand soaked in black-red under the guttering light of dissolving luxencrystal chunks. Redacted sat on the sand, gnawing on an impish femur.

Discovering it partially hollow, due to arachite physiology, the creature hissed at it, lower jaw spreading - and then threw it to the sand.

"All done?" one seventh of the Grimmest Reaper asked, politely.

It rose, its fur bursting from blackened skin. Its eyes had gone strange, the coloration closer to the rich, scarlet luster of damnatium-gold, than simple gold itself. Eyes, stripped of whiteness, flooded with blood that turned her sclera dark and odd, shot to it, and it moved-

It thought it moved, but its feet didn't go anywhere. Telekinetic restraints, flat bands, bound it in place - and when it tried to use the horrible power of its deep well, they flared bright with binding runes.

The Thing You Can't Defeat stepped up, and slapped her across the face so hard her lower jaw-halves separated, joints broken. In seconds, after her face was washed in meki-legging for a moment, she stared at it, the blood draining from her eyes, leaving behind only thick, bulging-fat veins. These veins diminished just as quickly as the red faded from her golden eyes.

"Welcome back," it said.

"I hate you," Redacted spat. "I hate Nisal more."

"Good, good, hate is a good motivator - or was that horniness? You messy living are so funny," it replied, clapping its hands together like a tourist seeing a mascot character in costume at Luciferia Historical Park. "Anyhow, you have now fed. If you get like that again, better find your ass a spotter to bust you out of it, or you'll go on a killing spree - try not to get burned for a long time, dismembered too much, lose too many organs, get your head blown off - oh, and avoid coldiron, bonesteel or damnatium-silver stakes to the chest. Got it? Marvelous, I have so much other shit to do."

"WAIT, WHAT DO I DO NOW!?" she demanded, frightened by its haste.

It stared at her.

"Try not to die, dickshit - and find some sandpounder clothes, honey, if you dress like a Skyli you're getting popped, literally," it replied, turning its back on her, revealing that the mirror tiles that made its face up were double sided. Perhaps, she thought, they weren't tiles at all - but the brain fog was hitting, fast. "Toodles."

And then, it was gone, and she was alone, naked, in the desert of Hell.

"Fuck," she said. "FUCK!"

And nothing changed. Redacted really was-

She stared, a cold, prickley sensation dribbling down her spine like globs of thick syrup. For a little bit, while it stuck around, it seemed like there was some greater purpose - why give her power, save her, for nothing? The Thing You Can't Defeat was a fucking enigma, and… nothing on the ground would fit her.

Gritting her teeth, she thought about sitting down in the sand for a while, and just… crying. But there wasn't time. An operator had to be strong, and stoic, unaffected or at minimum, in control. There was no time for horror, no time for-

Her eyes wandered over the corpses on the ground and her hand flew to her mouth. In place of all of that gore, she saw the gorefield left behind by that horrible new weapon her sister had employed. She saw people she knew every day, disemboweled, cut to pieces, she-

"If you don't want to kill more people, you should run," TTYCD whispered, right in her ear. A quick rounding told her that it wasn't there, it was just… a figment. Maybe… hallucination.

Frantic, Redacted scrambled up the impact slope, poking her head over the top. Headlights played over the short rectangular building she had landed near. Terrified, she looked to the corpses, and then back to the lights.

"Okay. Run. Run fast, like… like a monster," she panted, sliding back down the slope and coming to a stop in a mess of gore. Trying not to gag, she rose, throwing her hands out, and called upon the well of power inside of her. Meki particulate boiled out of a central point, and formed ribbons of black in the air. As fast as she could, she built out an absolutely sloppy thermomatic spell, turned, and fired it off.

A dozen men rushed down into the sand, and as they drew near, frost coated the grit underfoot. The temperature dropped. All scant moisture in the air was sucked out, and their lips cracked.

"HIT THE GRIT!" their commander barked - and they dove sandward, covering their heads with their arms.

Mere seconds later, the thermal energy concentrated into a small, isolated mass of atomic material was released, and the explosion that resulted roared skywards. No one saw a houndite shape, four armed and nude, running at speed into the pitch black.

The commander staggered to his feet, and stalked towards the blast zone.

"What the fuck was that?" he demanded, staring at the molten glass 'crater.'

"Thermomantic magic, powerful," his team arcanametrics technician said, stepping up beside him. "It was spellwork, for sure, not natural thaumic excession. Too rigid."

"…and the guys?"

"Their signals disappeared. Atomized," the hound said, tugging out his phone to take notes. "I'll get a report together for your, uh, difficult conversation with the duke."

"Good. Do so. I want to know who killed those two fuckwads," he spat, fists clenched. The technician looked up, blinking, having seldom seen an expression of such intense rage on the taurosi's bovine features.

"Sir?" he asked. "Personal?"

"Hardly, they were scumbags - but that kind of magic, that's a threat," the huge man grunted, turning from the glowing glass and activating his comms implant. "Spread out, and get gliss out there. Grid up, you know the drill - but be quiet. No running lights, nothing - let's keep this private, for now."

A chorus of affirmatives met his orders. With a huff, the Commander opened a line to HIS boss.

"Hello, Oggie," the Duke of Vaingloria said, demurely. "Something… wrong, darling?"

"Sir, my name is still Ogast, and I prefer it used in full," he said. The Duke chuckled.

"I love your backbone, so… unyielding. What has happened?"

"Something hit the sand and then atomized two of our contractors near one of the exterior pool warehouses, pool fourteen. Investigating. Spellwork was involved, wasn't fauna, sir," he said. "I'll have a report to you as soon as demonly possible, sir."

For a time, there was silence on the line - the Duke had muted - and then… a soft, heavy exhale came through. Breathily, the Duke said, "very good, Ogast. Check the warehouse… make sure there's nothing, ah… amiss. Oh, easy now… I'm sensitive."

"Y… Yes sir, I'll leave you to your work, sir," he said. The Duke hung up, and he slumped, exhausted by their every conversation.

Turning back, he watched his tech taking measurements from the glassed area, and grunted, "Hate this fucking job."

>>>>>>>>>>>>>. Link to Chapter One

#fiction #fantasy #gory #vampires #vampire #scifi #demons #hell #queer writing #creative writing #Perimortem Story

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lesbian-roguefort · 3 years

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the: canonical qpr

#/rp #rift draws #ranboo #tubbo #ranboo dsmp #tubbo dsmp #bee duo #bee n boo #bee duo my dearly beloved...#dream smp #dsmp #twip dni #kin #if you can spot and name all 9 pride flags you get a cookie <3 #10 including the QPR one in the background #i love them. So much. they live rent free in my mind

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ahit-transcendent-paint · 3 years

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oh yeah @banyanas crusader au >:)c

#twip doodles #ahit #a hat in time #ahit crusader au #crusader au #mustache girl #snatcher #istg i prommy hes in this hes the book its complicated if you dont know the au #its been awhile since ive designed classical fantasy outfits #so this was rlly fun :)#when the full fic comes out ill probs draw some more for this au i just love it sm #bany!🌟#au feature

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s0ckh3adstudios · 2 years

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guys survey

in a few months, ghost mcdonalds will have existed for a full year

and my idea to celebrate is that me, bee, and twip, the gm executives, do a stream of drawing, games, and other stupid nonsense to commemorate ghost mcdonalds

an idea i also just now had is opening up a minecraft server with the ghost mcdonalds restaurant and serving the viewers who join ghost mcdonalds food

and then sing an... unknown song at the end probably

i don’t even know if we have enough fans to do something like this but again. hypothetical idea in a few months.

just wondering if anybody here would be interested to see something like that

#sock talk #ghost mcdonalds #huehueh

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asktimmyahit · 2 years

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asks are open!

hello everyone! i finally caved and made an askblog for my interpretation of Timmy from a hat in time!

this blogs mun (and probably the only mun that will ever be here) is @twipsai! you can call me Twip, and i use they/them, and the Timmy in posts uses he/they/star! posts like these that are out of character will be tagged as #twip ooc, and in character asks will be #timmy posting. along with that, if youre off anon, ill tag the post with your user name! most posts wont have full drawings, but some will.

this is going to be half jokes, half story. characters (ocs and canon) will be added depending on what you say and ask. choose your words wisely!

(please keep in mind that im human and a student-- if i dont answer your ask it’s either because im unmotivated or busy. dont spam the same ask, i will be less likely to answer it if you do!)

ASK RULES:

all asks must be sfw. i will instantly block you if you say anything suggestive in my ask box.

be respectful! unless youre pressing the character for story details, dont be a total jerk!

m!as are welcome, but might not always be answered. if i deem it significant for character development story reasons, or anything else, then itll probably be answered!

thats all the info ive got for now-- cya!

#twip ooc #timmy ahit

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children-of-subcon · 3 years

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[ Please tag @theskindragon if you answer so I can see it ]

Hey I'm the guy Twip is writing Swapcon with, I was wondering if you'd mind me drawing Swapcon x USAU like Twip did? bc it was really cute and I have a few ideas! I just wanna ask first to be safe, thank you!

Of course, go ahead!! No need to ask permission ^^

@theskindragon

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felix-cant-ski · 5 years

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Here have some Dream Daddy headcanons

Damien may speak with what sounds like an upper-class Bostonian accent, and since Maple Bay is in Massachusetts this fools many people into thinking he's a Mass. native, but he actually grew up in the Bible Belt of Texas. Reason: He makes reference to growing up in an area that prevented him from coming out as trans lest he be bullied, or worse. His belt also has a bigass buckle on it. (Why Texas specifically? *shrugs* I don't fuckin' know.)

Despite what his name may suggest, Ernest is not Hugo's son from birth. I don't know of a single kid who calls the parent they've had since before they could remember by their first name, no matter what their relationship is like. Ernest's mother died and his father remarried to Hugo, who then adopted him. When they divorced, Hugo was deemed the more responsible parent and was granted primary custody.

Damien is autistic and is vegetarian due to sensory issues. He can't stand the texture of meat and the smell of fish makes him nauseous. He's not vegan though, and has no problem with dairy products, honey, eggs, or gelatin. Lucien is vegetarian, mostly just because, but also as a small gesture of solidarity, so his dad seems less 'weird' to other people.

Inadvertently and unbeknownst to him, Damien low-key scares his coworkers. None of them have ever seen him smile, we all know how strong his resting bitchface game is, he spends most of his time in the server room or in his office, and he doesn't talk much to them outside of work-related issues (partly because...well, they don't talk to him much outside of work-related issues). The ice only breaks when Dadsona brings him lunch one day as a surprise and they see his demeanour change completely in the company of his husband.

Lucien wants to be a tattoo and piercing artist. He already draws as a hobby, and he’s pretty damn good at it, but he just likes the idea of people turning their bodies into canvases in order to express themselves. Why just look at art when you can be art?

Lucien doesn’t act like it, but if the need arose he could absolutely be as dramatic as his father. I mean seriously, trying to reenact The Cask of Amontillado with his crush frenemy for no Goddamn reason other than to see if he could? Only a Bloodmarch would.

Yes I ship Lucien and Ernest. I don’t know why, but the idea of Lucien catching feelings for this greasy little twip who’s two grades below and way too angry for his short ass to contain and who sets shit on fire for fun and who stood still for twenty fucking minutes while Lucien tried to brick him up in the school’s boiler room just seems adorable to me.

Lucien loves snakes. Others think it’s just ‘cause he’s an edgy bitch but he just finds them adorable. Damien has found him cooing furtively at pictures of snakes on Tumblr or whatever, and if Dadsona has a snake, Lucien spends plenty of time with it whenever they’re over at his house (and even more after they move in together).

Though he won't admit it, Lucien has quite a sweet tooth. Damien and Dadsona know this perfectly well, and always let him lick the spoon after making brownies/cookies.

When Lucien was very small, Damien used to sing 'The Hearse Song' to him, which Lucien found gross and hilarious because of course he did. Lucien still likes the song out of nostalgia and on rare occasions when Lucien is upset, Damien will still sing it to him to cheer him up.

Mary and Joseph host a Thanksgiving meal at the church for the homeless and those who have no family to spend it with.

Joseph's barbecues aren't restricted just to residents of the cul-de-sac, but to residents of the whole street, devoted patrons of the church, and other pillars of the community.

Lucien hates needles. Yeah, he let Ernest give him a stick-and-poke, but tattoo needles are different from vaccine needles or phlebotomy needles.

EDIT: KJFHGKJDHJGKN I forgot to replace my own Dadsona’s name with ‘Dadsona’ for the sweet tooth one lmao ok it’s fixed now

#dream daddy #dream daddy: a dad dating simulator #ddadds #dream daddy headcanons #damien bloodmarch #lucien bloodmarch #ernest vega #hugo vega #mary christiansen #joseph christiansen #original #text post #bishop babbles on #c: dames darlin'#c: have you tried the exit #headcanons

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twipsai · 6 months

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acht eats chalk

#twip draws #acht mizuta #ahato mizuta #dedf1sh #side order #splatoon side order #agent 8 #pearl drone #pearl houzuki

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rockfact · 4 years

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w..whats the bite of 2020??? ~twip

that one hlvrai drawing by m/trix-86

#th one w tommy and bubby #ask to tag #Anonymous

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storm-called · 4 years

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get me, with Rook and Sari

Sari hated being stuck in fights. She was a healer, not a warrior. She didn’t even enjoy the brawls Bryn would goad her into on a good day.

The wave of branded had ambushed them, though, and she had been given no choice but to draw her weapon. She swung at a form that might have once been a human, and her greatsword cleaved through the branded. She winced at the sickening crunch.

Rook was pressed against her back, the familiar twip and twang of her arrows Sari’s only comfort in the rest of the battle noises.

Sari cut down another two branded and shouted over her shoulder. “How many more of these bastards are there?”

Rook grunted and traded out her bow for the two daggers on her hips as the branded pressed closer. “I don’t know. They just seem to keep coming.”

A growl built in Sari’s chest, and she smashed a branded charr over the head with the flat of her blade. The branded were getting uncomfortably close now, their clawed hands scrabbling at her armor.

Blue flames enveloped Sari’s sword, and she swung it through the crowd of enemies. A snarl pulled at her muzzle. The branded jerked back at the sudden blaze, wary of the guardian’s wrath. She took the breathing space to rake her eyes over the rest of the branded ambush. Thankfully, the numbers seemed to be thinning, but it was hard to distinguish the dead branded from the live.

“How we doing, Rook?”

Sari wasn’t expecting the gravelly yell that answered her, and she spun to watch Rook cut through a trio of branded that were clinging to her. Golden ichorous blood trickled down her face, and her thinner armor was torn. A cold panic bubbled in the pit of Sari’s stomach.

Rook looked down at herself, delicately touching a vicious slice across her abdomen. She grimaced and offered with a wry smile, “been better.”

Sari was used to receiving Rook back from the battlefield with cuts and bruises and mortal injury. She took it in stride, patched the reckless Commander up, and worried over it later, after the bleeding was stopped and she could watch Rook sleep it off safely.

The sight of her lover grinning with blood on her lips with the din of the battle raging around her twisted and snapped something in Sari’s chest. She snarled and flung her hand out. The fresh wave of branded that had been rushing Rook bounced back uselessly off the aegis shield.

Rook took the offered arm with visible gratitude. “Thanks,” she breathed and leaned heavily against Sari. The wound wouldn’t keep her down, Sari knew, not even for a day, but in the heat of the moment, with fading adrenaline and growing fatigue, it was draining.

“Hold on just a little longer.” Sari rumbled, switching her greatsword from two hands to one. The hilt sat a little unbalanced and heavy in her palm, but she sliced through the remaining branded with a fervor.

“For you?” Rook laughed, still not down for the count yet. She stabbed an encroaching branded and pulled back her dagger with a toothy grin at Sari. “Of course.”

#rook writes #character asks #commander rook #sari

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the-rovarians · 4 years

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Alien Parenting: You're Doing It Right

"Smiley Spock!" The little girl giggled happily as, sure enough, the Vulcan on the screen was smiling bigger than any other appearance he ever made on the show.

Opportunity smiled at this. This scene was little Andromeda's favorite part of one of her favorite episodes. "Look, Sa-Mekh, he all smiley!"

"I know, sweetie," Opportunity replied, "He's happy. The person he loves is safe and not hurt."

"Like Daddy does when Sa-Mekh come home from a twip?" Opportunity looked over to Amity at his side, who nodded and hugged the big MER.

"Yes. Exactly like that, honey." Amity bent down and hugged his daughter, her little arms wrapped around him in return.

Both children were now in their first frame after the Sojourner type infant frame. Andromeda's little brown solar panels flapped gently, like they usually did when she was happy.

"I wuv you, Daddy." she said sweetly, which still made Amity's heart melt.

"I love you, too, Andromeda."

“Gwumpy Bones!” came Antares’ voice, drawing all three’s attention back to him and the screen. The child was scrunching his apertures in his best imitation of the medical officer’s face, which made his sister giggle more.

“Silly ‘Tares,” she said, “You make funny face!” She went back to join her brother, the two making faces at each other, and laughing about them.

It had been a year since the two were born and everyone back at NASA had fallen in love with them immediately, watching them chase each other around the lab or playing in the Mars yard with each other when they got their new frames. Antares, like most little boys on Earth, immediately liked playing with trucks and other big machines. His sister was the same, but with spaceships and aliens. Which was why they were watching Star Trek.

Their parents watched with an arm around each other as the little twins giggled and played. They had tiny MER frames, but one could easily see Amity in them, too. Andromeda still had his eyes, and her brother was a bit smaller than the average Rovarian his age (but still perfectly healthy, as the doctor had assured them when he received his new frame), echoing his Terran father's size. The two parents still sometimes found themselves awestruck at what their love had created, Spirit remarking once that they had too much love to create one new life, and that's why they'd had twins. Many agreed with this, as the power of love and family was a large part of the Rovarian beliefs and values. After all, the force of their love had pulled them together from two different planets.

"And to think," Opportunity said to the rover beside him, "you were so nervous, you could barely talk when we first met. Bet you're glad you talked to me now."

"I'm more than glad." Amity replied, "I've never been so happy before. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, Oppy, and I'm so lucky you're mine." He moved closer, hugging Opportunity close with both arms, even as he felt the strong arms of the Rovarian wrap around him and hold him, almost lifting him off the ground. With a contented sigh, he nuzzled into the crook of Opportunity's neck, the MER's head resting atop his own. Amity whispered, so softly that none but his Oppy could hear, a special word he'd recently learned

"I love you....my t'hy'la."

#rovarians #amity-rovarians oc #andromeda-rovarians oc #antares-rovarians oc #opportunity-rovarians #nasa-amity #darklinespectra

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