#a dream commission project <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[adridoesstuff]

"Nothing's gonna harm you, not while I'm around..."

[aureatchi]

ᝰ𓂃⊹ ִֶָ SHE PAINTED THE HIGH RENAISSANCE ONTO HER BLANK CANVAS. . .ft. fyodor dostoevsky & dazai osamu

৻ꪆ RIASSUNTO. fata viam invenient...you attend a ball, fated to stumble upon two demons in disguise. you don't know whether it is for better or worse that you somehow already know them, all masqueraded as angels, regardless of how laughably far off that would be.

◞ OR ROME WAS TRULY THE PROMISED LAND, and you sought the art of chaos, rivalry, and seduction.

SERIES MASTERLIST. → ii. | PLAYLIST ♫. | wc. 9.6k+

৻ꪆ a/n. it’s FINALLY HERE !! get ready because there’s A LOT. i’ve poured sm heart into this so i hope you enjoy it as much as i do :) THANK YOU TO EVERYONE who was patient + reached out telling me how excited they are for this. this series is also my entry for @kentopedia’s love through the ages historical!au collab. thank u sm for putting this together <3

৻ꪆ info. fem!reader. renaissance!au. drama & romance. cursing. some suggestive parts. love triangle. arranged engagement. slowburn. lowk touch-starved. a lot of story buildup/complex character. suicide attempt from dazai. historical inaccuracies. bad poetry. religious imagery/symbolism.

— THE MONA LISA WASN’T REAL. And Vincenzo Peruggia was not, in fact, the person who stole the piece, contributing to the boom of its fame to the general public, but was planned in a way to frame him so that the origins of the painting would be a secret gossip only a group of the most successful artists knew about. 

The gendarmes were close. They were correct in assuming that another artist could’ve stolen the painting during the investigation. But they never suspected it could be the person the portrait was painted of herself—no, obviously not Francesco del Giocondo’s wife—but the original face who remained under the cover-up. 

An artist’s face, who later went under the alias of “Raphael” to conceal her contentious image and entanglements from the public eye—you. 

The crashing of ice-cold water on your skin amidst the summer air. The weight of your aspirations on your shoulders, and an unknown heart who vowed to drown you…

“My, miss, you’re already stirring up tons of drama, and you’ve only been here three days!” 

The past couple of months had felt like a dream. It almost seemed like yesterday when you packed your things into suitcases and moved to one of the most famous centers of the art world, Florence. 

Yet now, you entered through the gates of the ‘eternal city’ itself—Rome, a great privilege granted to you by the Pope himself. You almost cried when you received his invitation, commissioning you to paint the frescos in his private library. Of course, there were some strings pulled, like the person who recommended you…

“It’s all thanks to you, Ranpo,” you giggled mischievously. As the lead architect of the Vatican (but before that, your friend), he had told the Pope, “...she might as well become the best painter in all history. She may not be well known here in Rome, but say her name in Florence, and you’ll awaken the whole city. You’ll realize you’ve found a diamond among all the rubble. Trust me on this one; I’m never wrong.” 

“It was nothing,” Ranpo replied with a smug smile. “His Holiness, Fukuzawa never doubts my word.” He tapped his head with his forefinger and winked. “Not only does he recognize my talent in the arts, he also acknowledges my outstanding intellect! I’d be a detective in another life.” 

You chuckled before he continued. “The rest is all on you, princess. Again, you’re progressing quickly-” he pulled out a letter to summarize out loud. 

“-His Holiness was so impressed that he’s giving you the rest of the rooms to paint,” Ranpo said while you stared at him with widened eyes. “He…fired everyone else who was working on them. On top of that, he invites you to a ball happening in a couple of days to make an announcement on new projects. Other than you, he’s invited only the most influential artisans to attend alongside the aristocrats.” 

“No way!” You grabbed Ranpo’s hands in excitement. 

“Yes, way.” He let you spin him around on the pavement in eagerness, your long dress following along. “Though, I feel like you’re going to have to explain to him how you painted the library’s frescos so quickly.” 

Your turbulence of elation calmed. “Hm, you’re right. 

“I hope the question slips his mind.”

You hadn’t actually told Ranpo, but it always seemed like he would figure out everything about you anyway. There was one reason why you had become so famous in Florence. You created masterpieces in what felt like seconds—it was almost like you were granted the touch of creation itself. No one had ever seen you paint, so the mystery of how you were able to produce your portraits in mere weeks—sometimes days remained a mystery to the entire world, no matter how fast science progressed. 

You called it an ability. To be able to visualize—a mental image in your head you wanted to come to life in the form of a still painting on a canvas was what you did. You conjured the concept yourself, freezing daydream into textile. 

You weren’t sure why you possessed something supernatural, or perhaps there were other artists you didn’t know who could also do the same thing, but firstly, you kept it a secret—it seemed almost inhuman to hold such a power. Yet secondly, it was even more the reason to follow in your father’s footsteps. 

He, too, was a painter in the courts of Urbino and would’ve liked to become a famous artist as well. Now, that dream lived on through you—you had studied and trained under his teachers and other artists until you mastered their techniques from the foundations to geometry. Your father was no longer alive, but you were sure he’d be proud of you for getting this far. 

“Oh, one more thing,” Ranpo said.

“The two angels of art are going to be there.” The brunette closed his eyes and rested his arms behind his head as if he already knew the shocked expression awaiting your face. “Your inspirations. Osamu Dazai of Milan and your fiancé, Fyodor Dostoevsky of Florence.” 

“Pardon me, Fyodor?” 

…

A long time ago, your uncle—your now legal guardian—arranged your marriage to Fyodor Dostoevsky. However, the same would’ve happened even if your father had been in charge due to his family’s good societal position. 

It was just meant to be, you guessed. 

Coincidentally, Fyodor had also taken an interest in art the few times you two saw each other when you were younger, and you eventually saw him go on to become the most talented sculptor in Florence. 

However, your path of similarities ran cold after that. You hadn’t seen him in years, and you weren’t even close. You were obligated to write to each other once a month, but each message almost seemed like business transactions rather than love letters. Fyodor was too aloof a person despite being well-educated and polite—though he checked off every other box (and you were sure any other woman would want him), you realized you would never be able to connect with him. He was just not interested. 

You couldn’t do anything to change the engagement, but as long as there was no set wedding date to look (dread) forward to, you were content with life for now. 

You didn’t necessarily like Fyodor, nor did you go to Rome to finally pursue him, but you admired him from a different standpoint. 

He and Osamu Dazai were truly angels of art; even gods, if the Church was not one’s forte. Everyone across the country knew their names—patrons and civilians alike worshipped them at the feet. Even the powerful Medici family, sought by every artist to be commissioned, held close ties with both. 

Clientages saved their money to have the two paint for them, upcoming artists aspired and envied their success, ladies came with their names rolling off their tongues to the horror of their husbands’ faces—they were rumored to be devilishly handsome, too. Self-portraits of the prodigies were yet to be made, but you didn’t doubt it one bit. If Dazai was anything like Fyodor, he had to be fanciable too. 

They had the world and heavens as masterpieces in their hands; one could say their names traveled as far as the badlands. You arrived in Florence right after they departed for Rome, and you studied the creations left behind to figure out how they made crowds swoon and create such huge impressions on people.

And you found their pieces were indeed the pinnacle of the renascene summer. You silently made them your mentors, incorporating what was successful for them into your own works. 

…

“And you’ll be there, right, Ranpo?” 

“Of course, so don’t you worry your pretty head about a thing,” he tapped his head with a smile. “Though, I have some work to finish first, so I’ll leave thee to explore Rome.” 

“Don’t take the wrong wagon this time,” you giggled. Ranpo was late to meet you on your first day because he kept taking the wrong passenger coach to get to you. For some reason, he was knowledgeable at everything but navigating transportation. 

“I’m taking a horse this time,” Ranpo replied. 

“Even worse! You better not fall off!” 

There was a tailor you had been recommended to by your aunt before you departed. You decided to head to his shop first to find a dress to wear for the evening. 

“Good day, my lady,” the couturier said with a kind smile. “I have multiple options of gowns for you tonight. Please do take your time selecting.”

“Gramercy,” you replied with a smile in turn. Your measurements had been sent to him a few weeks ago, so that you wouldn’t have to wait for your garments to be made. 

He brought out at least four cioppas. You didn’t even care to figure out how many in total because among all the regal reds, greens, and royal blues stood out a silk, off-white dress with gold accents. Your eyes were immediately drawn in, though you couldn’t put your finger on why. It wasn’t the most showy in the bunch, but that didn’t matter to you. It was like a rare gem among common stones—though you would need a good eye to really appreciate its uniqueness. 

You ran your fingertips across the fabric, closely observing its craftsmanship. You became fascinated with the opulent designs on the flowy skirt and the long sleeves. You guessed that if you didn’t take it, you’d instead dream of it for the rest of your days in regret and freeze it in one of your paintings for eternity.

“I think I’ll try this one first.” 

Your first choice proved worthwhile when you tried on the gown in the separate dressing room. You exchanged the simple front-laced bodice and plain cotton attire for the new, elegant piece sewn just for you. The fabric hugged and complimented your curves in all the right places, creating the most flattering look as you turned in front of the mirror. 

You imagined yourself with your hair styled and matching jewelry to accompany it—you felt like a princess. Perhaps this confidence was the only thing that would help you get through the ball this evening and perhaps your entire time here. You hadn’t been around so much aristocracy in years—though you grew up privileged, you preferred to live humbly and simply focus on your hobby (and you spared your change on those in need). You were lovely yourself, no doubt, and maybe that’s why you charmed many people of different social classes as you grew more popular. 

You studied yourself through the mirror again, and it was like the polarity of your dresses reflected the fate of this new chapter of life set against the one you left behind.

The weight of your aspirations on your shoulders and an unknown heart that vowed to drown you…you suddenly felt cold. You rushed to get out of the room. 

“It’s perfect on you,” the tailor said, unable to disguise his awe when you asked him for his opinion and to ensure all the sizing was correct. You nodded in curiosity when he asked, “Now, would you like to know the inspiration behind the dress?” You always looked forward to seeing how your tailors incorporated your personality and family style into their design. 

“It’s a play on a singular topic,” he said. 

“Angels. A dual purpose signifying both the type of art you create and how you give off an entrancing allure—they will be curious about your enigmatic yet enchanting importance. That will be your statement tonight among the darker colors.” 

The earlier thought of comparing your two inspirations to angels came to mind. You decided right then—you found no need to try on any of the others. 

“I’ll have this one sent for me tonight,” you said. “Thank you again.”

Rome was alive and busy with action at every corner you turned. You strolled down the streets with no set destination, admiring the liveliness of the city. There were markets and shops everywhere and merchants with all sorts of foreign goods. 

You discovered a ruella at the corner of one street, and the door was widely opened. You peered in to see a group of women inside, probably discussing various intellectual topics. 

You decided to go inside and socialize, having nothing better to do. As you stepped into the salon, they all turned to greet you. 

“Good day, miss,” a few of them said. 

“Oh, aren’t you the Florentine artist?” one of them asked. She moved to the side so you’d have a spot to sit.

I got recognized, you thought, and you couldn’t hide your smile. 

“My husband was there awhile back,” she continued as you sat beside her. “He couldn’t stop talking about how enamored he was with your style and was sure you’d make it here next. Looks like he was correct!” 

“I’m very flattered,” you responded, a warm tint in your cheeks. 

“Did you recently arrive?” she asked. “I hope your journey here went smoothly.” 

“Yes, it went alright!” you said. “The weather wasn’t too bad, and I enjoyed the views on the way. I even passed by some lakes…” 

You felt it again. A shiver ran down your spine. The crashing of ice-cold water on your skin that stood perpendicular to summer’s balmy weather. The intense feeling to stay alive—to save yourself and the soul you did not know…

Your journey had gone smoothly up until you passed by one of the lakes near Rome. It had been a peaceful day, and your coach driver suggested that you look outside. You lifted the curtain and were received with one of nature’s blessings—verdant grass and plants that thrived around clear blue waters. 

You could’ve painted it if you remembered the sight. You truly could have if the memory of the scene wasn’t tainted by what you saw seconds after. 

“Hey, is that a person?” you asked your driver, squinting your eyes—unblemished, untouched picture shattering in your head. The land on one side of the lake was vastly elevated, creating a cliff on that end, and a figure stood in the distance.

A moment passed. 

“…Yes, my lady.” 

Your eyes weren’t betraying you—there was a man dangerously close to the cliff’s ledge, and you weren’t born yesterday to not know what he was thinking of doing. 

“Stop the wagon,” you said, a slip of panic in your tone. Your driver looked back at you hesitantly, but you ordered once again. 

“Please stop the wagon. Don’t come after me. And don’t tell anyone about this.” 

The horses carrying you came to a halt, and you rushed out of the chaise. You weren’t sure what had gotten into you at that moment—there was a random person you happened to catch making more than a terrible decision, why get involved—but you couldn’t stop now as it was like your legs were carrying you themselves. You immediately took off east towards the cliff. It would take you a few minutes until you got to the man. 

What would you even tell him? Would you try to talk him out of it? Gaslight him into stepping away from the edge? Offer to paint him a custom piece for free?—“Oh, I’m actually a famous artist in the country, I can paint you whatever you wish. But I can’t really do that if you kill yourself.” You dashed past grass and rocks as you hurried up the hill.

You would definitely have to change once you got back—the bottom of your dress was already soiled, and you were sweating.

Splash!

Your face was struck in complete horror at the loud sound. You peered over the edge to see huge ripples cascading across the surface of the lake. 

Oh shit! 

You ran back down and then towards the shore. You thanked God that you weren’t using any heavy layers under your dress that day and prayed you weren’t going to end up killing yourself as well. You knew how to swim, but the man was far from the bank. 

Am I really going to do this? 

This might’ve been the most spontaneous thing I’ve done. And the worst.

You liked to think that if you saved him, you would be rewarded in some other way. A good Samaritan—you thought. It had to be worth it. You couldn’t die before your new life even began. 

You submerged yourself into what felt like frozen water, your clothing suddenly feeling uncomfortable around you. Still, you wasted no time swimming toward the man who jumped in. 

He was already sinking—of course, this lake has to be deep. You immediately grabbed onto his waist when you got to him, but not before you took a good look at his face. He was probably of the working class because he only wore a simple white shirt. You also noticed he was covered by an absurd amount of bandages. Soft waves of brunette hair framed the man’s profile, and he looked far more content and at peace than he should’ve been. In any other situation, you would’ve thought he was taking a pleasant nap by the way his eyes were closed, and his lips were slightly parted. 

You’d never seen anyone so pretty underwater. If you hadn’t seen him as a human above land, you would’ve thought he was a mermaid or some other foreign creature. 

Your thoughts and observations were interrupted when you realized you couldn’t hold your breath any longer. Trying not to panic anymore, you first tried to drag the two of you up above the water, but you weren’t strong enough to battle the weight of it against the two of you. 

You would have to swim to shore and didn’t know if you had enough air to return. 

Well, I need to make it work anyway, you thought. You wouldn’t let this mysterious guy you didn’t know cut off everything you wanted to pursue. 

You took ahold of one of the man’s loose arms and, with determination, tried to propel yourself the way you came from, kicking your legs through the water. You were more than correct in assuming it would be complicated—the energy in your body drained quickly. 

You were only halfway from where you started when you accidentally choked. But that caused you to completely seize up—water poured into your lungs like open floodgates, and you were unable to breathe. You tried to push yourself up to get air, but you were already too weak to carry even yourself.

The weight of your aspirations on your shoulders and trying to save an unknown heart that had led to you drown—you wondered if he was still alive. He would have to be resuscitated at this point, and you realized, you too. If anyone came in time to save you, that was. You shouldn’t have had ordered your driver to not follow after you. Or rushed into the lake unprepared. 

Or involve yourself with this man. It was his decision to jump off the cliff…and now you had tied his own weight onto your life. Maybe it was all too heavy to carr—

“I’m happy to hear,” the woman replied, oblivious to and interrupting the encounter you were replaying in your head. “I wish you the most success here.” 

“Thank you,” you replied. “You are very kind.” 

“I am a bit nervous,” you whispered. “I’ll be meeting His Holiness for the first time and other artists. Do I even compare to them?” 

It was evening now. You had spent the last couple of hours preparing for the ball after exploring town—you had on the classy cream-colored dress you selected earlier from the tailor, accompanied by a couple of necklaces. Your hair was put up in a complex style and fastened by a few pieces of jewelry. 

Your mind utterly conflicted with your appearance, though. Your thoughts were in chaotic peril—you tried to hide the fact that you had been pacing around your room in anxiousness right up until Ranpo picked you up. 

“Thou art second to none, miss,” Ranpo replied with a wink and a tight squeeze of your hand. It had only half the same effect as his bear hugs the viridescent-eyed would give you when you weren’t in public, but it was enough. “There’s no reason to be nervous. You fascinated him long ago—you might’ve even been his favorite if I wasn’t here!” 

“Maybe so.” You giggled at his lighthearted smugness. “Well then, let’s get going.”

Ranpo nodded and led you through the large doors of the ballroom. Immediately, you were greeted with the celestial light from the chandeliers contrasting the dark evening sky outside. 

Your eyes drifted in awe among the artigiani and aristocratici of Rome. It was almost chimerical—you hardly remembered you were still holding Ranpo’s hand. The scene looked like it came straight out of a painting. 

“Appealing so far?” Ranpo asked, guiding you down the stairwell. “Can it stand against the Florentine carnivals?” 

You slowly nodded, still focused on the liveliness surrounding you. “It feels divine.” It was more prestigious than any event you’d been to so far—most likely because this was held in one of the Pope’s courts itself. 

“You haven’t even experienced it yet,” Ranpo laughed before leading you into the waltzing crowd. “Shall we dance?”

You and Ranpo followed the movements of the other couples. When you were sure of the pattern of the steps, your eyes wandered again to admire the setting. Everyone was dressed to the nines—although, as your tailor said, they all wore darker colors. You pretended to not notice the looks you received from strangers—however, they were not insulting. They were out of captivation and marvel.

Multiple pieces of artwork were hung around the hall, too, and you wondered if the chosen artists who created them were here now. You considered if they knew of your name too, just as you recognized theirs. 

However, your heart almost stopped when you were reminded of a completely different topic. Ranpo noticed a moment of shock flash through your eyes but did not proceed to question you. (Thankfully, he knew when you would prefer him not to be nosy.) 

You saw the back of a man’s head dressed in pure white—his brunette hair in slightly messy, soft waves. 

There is no way. 

However, you could not confirm your suspicions because he approached a lady in a beautiful, deep red gown to ask for a dance. His face and figure became completely hidden as he waltzed with her at the opposite side of the room. 

“See someone you know?” you heard Ranpo ask. 

Of course he didn’t need to be nosy, because he figured out everything about you anyway. 

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” you responded quietly, still trying to get a glimpse of him, but before you could say anything more, a guard standing next to the entrance silenced the entire crowd. 

“Enter, His Holiness, Fukuzawa!” 

You immediately turned around, and once more was someone dressed in white—the Pope, Yukichi Fukuzawa. You glanced at Ranpo, who gave you a nod of reassurance before politely applauding with everyone else. 

“Thank you for attending this event today,” Fukuzawa started. “Our city has made much progress due to the collaboration and contribution of our artists, so I would like to take tonight to celebrate all of them. Ultimately, I want to reveal the next upcoming project.” 

After a few more words, everyone applauded again, and the party resumed activity. You and Ranpo moved away from the dance, him deciding it was finally time to do the thing you were dreading. 

“Look over there.” Ranpo urged his head towards two men in conversation standing a few feet away. 

If the ballroom really represented the heavens, surely these two were the angels. Even without Ranpo telling you, you knew them to be Osamu Dazai and Fyodor Dostoevsky, standing side by side, white suits further proving their empyreal position.

But your eyes widened, and if you hadn’t been careful, your jaw would’ve dropped, too. Obviously, you recognized Fyodor—tall, jet-black hair—handsome and intimidating as ever, but you didn’t dwell on him for too long. Your eyes quickly scanned the room in search of a woman from earlier with dark curls, dressed in deep red, and when you found her, she was no longer dancing with the brunette dressed in white. 

You looked back at the man beside Fyodor.

It’s him. 

And as if hell—fate, whatever wanted to taunt you further, Osamu Dazai noticed you and Ranpo first, pausing his share of thoughts with the ravenette. You locked eyes with him, and you immediately became embarrassed. 

What the hell? First, one of them is my fiancé, whom I don’t even say a word to, and then the second is…him? 

Perhaps we shall meet again, were the brunette’s words to you by that lake. You truly didn’t believe him then, but it wasn’t the first time you choked on your assumptions. 

In a split second, you pulled Ranpo out of sight. “Ranpo,” you pleaded. “I can’t meet them now!” Your fingers hastily ran through your hair, making sure everything was in place. “I’m not even sure what to say-”

“You’ll have to rip off the bandage sooner or later,” he said, tugging on you. “And I say the sooner, the better! I’ll introduce you to them!” You felt even more displaced at the fact that he offered to introduce you to your own fiancé. However, before you could even object (or say, “Ranpo, somehow I already fucking know both of them!”), he dragged you back—toward the two painters. 

“Good evening, my lords,” Ranpo said as you approached them. 

You didn’t miss how Dazai’s face lit up in a curt smile. Meanwhile, Fyodor had on a neutral expression—probably the only appearance you ever saw him wear. 

“Good evening, Edogawa, the darling of His Holiness,” Fyodor said, the slightest spite in his tone. He did not glance at you at all. 

“Still as cold-hearted as ever, Il Divino-Painter,” Ranpo replied with a chuckle, but it was apparent that he did not like the man.

“I am a sculptor,” Fyodor corrected, a bogus smile still plastered on his face. 

“Don’t mind him,” Dazai said, patting your friend’s shoulder. “He’s just jealous you’re in charge of planning out the entire Vatican palace. And also at the fact His Holiness had to force him into a suit!” When Fyodor gave him a look, Dazai turned to you. 

He had eyes of the sunset, paving the way of something between hell and earth—though in a perfect world, it should’ve been the other way around because he looked as if he had just come down from heaven. You felt your cheeks warm and an uncertain feeling in your stomach. 

“Good evening, my lady,” Dazai said, knocking you out of your reverie. You blushed again as he knelt to take your hand and kiss it, bowing before you—the single minute felt longer than nox itself.

Was this the same man you met at the lake a few days ago? 

He was the artist you admired all along? 

“Apologies for not greeting you first,” he continued as he stood up. “I did see you earlier. How could anyone not notice the angel of Florence who creates masterpieces in days, especially when she looks like one tonight?” You became even more flustered by his sweet words. 

He was familiar with my name all along.

“Ah, so you already recognize her?” Ranpo asked. 

“Of course I do!” You suddenly tensed—half expecting him to reveal your previous encounter with him that you did not want anyone else to know. (If Ranpo knew, you hoped he would keep his mouth shut for your sake.) It would cause too much trouble if someone decided to spread it, and even worse if your uncle found out. He was very strict on image.

But to your relief, he did not. 

“I am very fond of your style, my lady,” Dazai said, resting his hand under his chin. “Madonna del Granduca,” one of your paintings. “You capture human sentiment and emotion so well, even in the most simplistic pieces.” 

Finally, you were able to respond to one of his compliments without becoming a mess. “Thank you.” 

“...And sfumato, your technique,” Fyodor added. “Perhaps you like her style so much because she takes it from you.” 

It was only now Fyodor finally acknowledged you. 

He may just be the son of Nyx. His intentions were tucked away behind amethyst eyes, slumbering in the peaceful twilight he allowed mercy to while all else was caught up in chaotic darkness. Maybe no one else noticed that—if anyone did, Fyodor would not be as beloved as he was now—but you did. You saw through the three strands of malice that laced his following words. 

“Good evening,” he said softly. He kneeled in front of you with your hand, tormenting you with eye contact.

“It’s an honor to see you again, miss. Though I must ask, was Florence not enough? 

“Is grasping originality so tough?

“Are you here to copy more artistic concepts to boost your own depictions of seraph?” 

He delivered a deadly kiss to your hand before you could respond, and before he could see the puzzlement on your face. 

“Excuse me?” 

But you did not falter before him as he stood back up. He did not intimidate you. 

“I’m flattered.” 

For once, the slightest sign of curiosity seeped onto Fyodor’s face.

You gave him a poisonous smile of your own. 

“Sfumato—the blending of colors to create smooth transitions between them,” you explained, giving a nod toward Dazai. “I’m honored that you immersed yourself so much with my painting that you could observe such a detail.”

Ranpo pretended to look around the hall as if he wasn’t paying attention to what was happening, while Dazai couldn’t keep a snort from escaping his throat. 

You kept your eyes fixed on your fiancé’s violet gaze, trying to figure out whether or not you’d be dead after the night was over. Actually—he seemed like the type that could seduce someone into death. Stygian black hair framed against his pallid complexion—ethereal, no doubt, yet you would not be surprised if he turned out to be the Grim Reaper’s right-hand man. (And you were supposed to marry him!)

“I’m here because His Holiness summoned me to paint the frescos in his house. I feel that if he sensed plagiarism in my work, he would’ve not trusted me with this project. 

“What about you, my lord?” 

There was a pause; he was thinking. 

“I am simply searching for something important,” he replied. “An inspiration, if you want to call it. I need it to complete a piece I have been working on.”

“And you’re sure you can find it here?” 

“You can find anything in the promised land, solnyshka.”

The foreign word rolled off of his tongue like honey. He dressed his voice to sound like a lullaby, and you remembered why you thought of him as an angel before he decided to insult you. 

What a juxtaposition. 

“What did you say?” 

“Did you not hear me?” 

He wasn’t going to tell you what he said, nor what he meant in entirety. “Nevermind. I did. Good luck trying to find it.” 

…

“May I have this next dance, my lady?” 

The charming brunette extended his left hand out to you. You had become irritated with Fyodor after his apparent distaste for you—So this is how you treat me after years of not seeing each other? You thought you could at least try becoming acquainted with him to make your inevitable fate a bit easier for both of you, but it seemed like that wasn’t happening anytime soon. You left the conversation at the nearest opportunity and moved to the other side of the room, unaware that your other dilemma was following you. 

“Lord Dazai?” 

You noticed something new about him as he stood in front of you. Those sunset orbs also harbored a concept as far as the sun. There was something distant in them that felt like half of his mind was immersed somewhere else. You wondered where. 

“I don’t like Dostoevsky at all either,” Dazai chuckled. “Even though tonight’s given me another rival on my list, I like you way more.” 

“Don’t speak so soon,” you scoffed. “You’re going to hate me when I take all your customers.” 

“I don’t think I could ever hate you, bella.” You frowned at his attempt to flirt. “And besides, many of them are very loyal to me.” 

You hesitantly took Dazai’s hand as he led you to the floor, joining the circle of couples who had already lined up to dance the almaine. 

“I’m still annoyed with you,” you said quietly as the two of you lightly skipped across the floor on your toes, never breaking eye contact with his tawny eyes. That same look was there—it was like he was thinking of everything and nothing all at once. “I’m only agreeing to this so I could boost my status. You just caught me off guard back there. That’s why I acted nice.”

He dramatically pretended he was offended. 

“Why, tesora?” Dazai took both of your hands. You circled around each other gracefully before reversing to step in the other direction. “I saved you! If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t be dancing here tonight and finally knowing the name of the poor soul who jumped into the lake!” 

“If it weren’t for you, I also wouldn’t have nearly drowned, idiota,” you glared. 

“Keyword: nearly!” 

You continued sulking at him while the dance went on, ignoring the rest of his defensive sentences and the friendly endearments he added to the end of them. 

“Ow!” 

Dazai had stepped on your foot during another turn. 

“What was that for?” you asked, silently observing how he made sure he did not catch your dress along too, so it would not ruin. 

“Hm? What do you mean?” Dazai spun you again; this time, he stepped on your other foot. 

“Lor- Dazai!” You disliked how much fun he was having with this. Now, he wore a mischievous gleam in his eyes that coupled an unmistakable, playful grin. 

He spun you one last time, and this time, you purposely stepped on his foot. 

“Hey—why did you do that!?” he pouted. 

“Thou did it first,” you replied dryly. “You’re a bad dancer, my lord. You can’t even keep up with the slow ballroom almain.” 

He smirked as the number concluded, and then he brought you to the center of the floor. 

You looked around to see at least half of the couples moving off, either to watch or go elsewhere. 

“Let’s see if you can keep up with this one,” he chuckled lowly. 

“What dance is this?” you asked.

“A galliard. The La Volta.” 

Your lips slightly parted to say something, but you didn’t know what. 

It made sense now why so many chose not to participate in this one. The La Volta was a bit obscene—first, the women were lifted up in springs and jumps, even though that was usually improper. It was also very fast—it would require skill to do it comfortably, especially with the long, heavy gowns you wore. 

Finally, it required close contact between the couples, which was…scandalous. Like a forbidden fruit. 

You had never danced it before. Nor had you planned to. You were engaged, after all.

I bet noone in this room, but Fyodor himself and Ranpo even know we’re to marry, though, you thought to yourself, even though you shouldn’t even be considering excuses. …And he probably couldn’t even care less.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Dazai said, a bit more seriously, leaving it up to your decision, but his eyes alleged something else. Like he was pleading to let you indulge. 

The forbidden fruit and its serpent. Why was this man always tempting you to things that could sabotage your name? It was as if his heart vowed to drown you to doom…

“No, I’ll do it,” you decided. 

…yet you had let him, again and again. The descendants of Eve never learned. 

“They call you the Renaissance Man, my lord? I’ll steal your title when I show everyone I can do more than paint…and outdo you in dance.” 

“Dance is a form of art, too, y’know,” Dazai smiled before he parted from you. “How about instead, you think of it like we’re creating our own special piece together.” 

“Competition,” you disagreed in one word, curtsying before him as the drums cued.

“Collaboration,” he bowed. 

You two rose, and a new tension was ignited in the room. Your eyes locked with his again, but this time more determined—more passionate, as you gracefully swept to the left while the brunette the opposite way. You continued that movement while also gravitating closer. 

Closer, until he was finally able to lay hands on your waist. 

“Look up, miss,” Dazai softly reminded you. “Too flustered that you’ve forgotten etiquette?” 

You didn’t even realize your eyes chased down to where he was holding you—no man had touched anywhere near your corset before. You felt nervous; it was supposed to be so wrong, so why did his hold feel so right? As if his fingers were always supposed to be wrapped around you, the final touches to a masterpiece of intimacy. 

You were falling for it—the serpent’s art of seduction. This wasn’t supposed to be a collaboration. 

“What happened to your confidence?” Dazai teased, whispering in your ear; you felt his breath tickling your skin.

Your eyes drifted back to his in embarrassment, but you couldn’t give your rival the entertainment of winning against you in something you proposed. Fighting against your nerves, you wrapped one of your arms around Dazai’s broad shoulder.

“Shut up.”

He lifted you by the hips to aid as you lept and turned around him, his left thigh pushing you upward, and that same nervous excitement returned to your stomach. It was as if pools conjoining both everything and oblivion at once lay physically on you. His gaze resembled hands—he caressed your shoulders; he traced your face like he wanted to paint every angle of you. 

He was gentle with his actual hold on you, too; Dazai carried you as delicately as the brush strokes he made on canvas. He carefully set you down with ease after every jump while still treating you like a porcelain doll, and there you made the mistake of wandering your eyes down to his lips, lightly parted—you realized this was the second closest time this man had come near enough to kiss you. 

His body was so warm, he could pull you flush against him if he wanted to. His breath was minty, the coolness of his mouth addicting, and if Eden smelled heavenly too, he had truly just slithered down, carrying the sweet, earthly scent along with him. All your senses were overloaded by the man standing before you like alcohol; you wondered if you’d even end up home by the end of the night. 

“You’re enjoying this way more than to simply boost thy status.” 

In that moment, you snapped out of your haze of dopamine, and the music faded into a new routine. You also realized that an entire audience had been watching you. That was not ideal. 

You scooted back right after Dazai released his hold on you, looking down in coyness. “Maybe I’m just a good actor.” 

“You’re a terrible one,” he chuckled, following you out of the crowd. “You can’t even look at me to sell your lie!” 

You glared at the brunette once more. “I don’t have to look at you to tell you the truth.” 

“So cold-hearted,” he sighed. “Even after a dance to loosen you up. Guess I need to work harder to ask you out.”

“For what, a double suicide?” You once again recalled some other things he had said during your weird, fated meet at the lake. 

“Exactly! You remember!” 

“Well, sorry, that’s not happening,” you responded. “Go find some other lady to ask. I’m sure you do this all the time anyway.”

Because how did he touch you so perfectly? How did he dim out every other person in the room to make it seem like it was just you two?

He paused. “No, I don’t. You’re the first person I danced this galliard with. You realize we were even in skill, right?” 

“Didn’t seem like it. And I don’t understand why you chose me.”

“You fascinate me, angel of Florence,” Dazai said. “You did save me in a way. Sure, we’re rivals. But one day, I’ll paint you myself. 

“You’re too beautiful to not.” 

…

“I hope you all have had a lovely night,” Fukuzawa spoke over the room. “To conclude the gathering, I would like to announce what the Vatican’s next project will be.” 

Artists all around you waited in anticipation, for good reason. You and Dazai looked at each other too. You’d already experienced it for yourself—a commission from the Pope himself guaranteed immediate, enormous success (and money; your job from him was your biggest pay so far). Whatever he proposed required another artist, and it could be anyone in the room. 

“The Sistine Chapel,” Fukuzawa said. “The large crack that has formed along the ceiling is to be repaired in the upcoming year.” 

There were a few chatters after that. The chapel was insanely impressive—the interior of the large building was covered in stunning frescos by some of the great artists who had come before you. Even though the Pope hadn’t even said what the job was to be, anyone working on things concerning it would have to be just as good as its predecessors. 

“Along with reparations, its panels shall be painted.” 

There were a few gasps from the patrons. Was that even possible? How could someone even paint the ceiling without it being taken off of the roof? And it was so large, too, like a mega-sized canvas. 

It was unheard of. 

“I have already selected the person I would like to work on this,” Fukuzawa continued. There was silence again. 

“It’s probably Dostoevsky,” Dazai said to you. 

Fyodor? “Why do you think so?” you asked. 

“He completely stole the spotlight with that statue of David he finished this year,” he dryly chuckled. “Well deserved, I’m afraid. You saw it too when you were in Florence, did you?” 

“Yeah,” you replied. You had to acknowledge how impressive it was for yourself. It was like the man turned hard stone into pliable clay. 

“But that’s sculpting, not painting.” 

“Oh? Do you think you’d be a better candidate?” 

He was smiling again. “No, I never said that,” you scoffed. “I was going to say maybe you’d have a chance-”

“Fyodor Dostoevsky,” Fukuzawa said.

Oh.

You paused, scanning the room to see where he was. 

He was on the other side, intently making his way to the Pope. 

“I request you to paint the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel.” 

Fyodor stood in front of him and then bowed. 

“...I offer my sincerest gramercy for this opportunity, Your Holiness,” the artist said.

There was a pause.

“…I would like to discuss the rest of what this entails in private.” 

Your brows furrowed. That was almost a bit…rude. Sure, he hadn’t declined the offer, but for whatever reason, he also didn’t accept it. 

“Very well,” Fukuzawa replied without a change in his tone. “I adjourn this party. Bonam noctem.”

There was a final applause for him and the city’s next project, and then everyone began filing out. 

However, you and Dazai stayed in place until Ranpo suddenly tugged on your arm. 

“There you are! Let’s go!” 

“W-Where?” you asked as he started to drag you away. 

“Goodnight!” you heard Dazai say before disappearing into the crowd. His small smile remained in your memory, and a part of you wished you could give him a proper goodbye.

“To eavesdrop, duh,” Ranpo replied as he sifted you through everyone moving the opposite way. “Don’t you also want to hear what Fyodor has to say?” 

“I don’t understand why he didn’t just accept the proposal,” you said. “Anyone else would do it in a heartbeat!” You were sort of jealous; that job was given to someone so ungrateful! If you were the one who recieved it, you would’ve put your entire effort into transforming the ceilings right away. 

“I don’t know how he’s so beloved,” Ranpo continued. “Not even His Holiness likes him that much; he just doesn’t show bias when choosing people to paint his architecture. Did you know Fyodor was supposed to produce his tomb?” 

“What happened with that? I thought it was being worked on by a few other artists.” 

“He kept clashing with His Holiness about it,” he said. “Until the plans got so messed up, Fyodor called it a ‘tragedy’ and left Rome for a while. Quite literally abandoned it.” 

What an asshole! Especially in front of His Holiness!

“I don’t like him at all,” Ranpo squeezed your arm. It had become quite apparent to you that Ranpo admired Fukuzawa—not just because he was his so-called favorite or because he was the Pope, but something else. You had seen them together during the party earlier, and you were reminded of father and son. “He has a nasty ego, and I can’t figure out his intentions. I feel off every time I meet with him.” 

“Intentions? For what?” 

“Don’t be stupid, miss,” Ranpo said. “He told you himself, he’s here for something. It’s just so annoying! He hides it all behind those stupid, purple eyes…” 

You approached the entrance to a hallway at the very back of the room, and you heard two familiar voices outside. 

“...I carve marble, not paint.” 

“You discredit your skill with a brush too much.”

“Your Holiness, we had very different views during the last commission you gave me,” you overheard Fyodor say. “I simply don’t want to cause another commotion with this.” 

You only peeked through the large doorway to hear more clearly, but Ranpo continued walking right in as if they wouldn’t notice. 

“R-Ranpo!” you whispered harshly.

Immediately, Fukuzawa and Fyodor looked at you both, and you scrambled behind Ranpo. 

“I’m so sorry, Your Holiness,” you replied, accidentally locking eyes with Fyodor, who looked at you unfazed as if he had already noticed you two a mile away. You couldn’t even think of an excuse to explain what you were doing there, but then Fukuzawa resumed the conversation without a care. 

“I see then,” he replied and then gave it some thought. “I felt you were the only one who was fit for the matter, but perhaps I could just hand it to-” 

Fukuzawa looked at you, and Fyodor looked at him before looking at you. 

“Ah, what I said was just a concern,” Fyodor interrupted to your dismay. “I’ll accept your commission on one condition.” 

The three of you waited. 

“On the contract, it shall be stated that noone shall view the inside of the Chapel until it is completed,” Fyodor stated. “Including yourself, Your Highness.” 

He thought for another moment. 

“Very well, Fyodor. It will be arranged.” 

What a rat!

It had been a few weeks since that eventful ball. You had started work on painting the rooms in the Pope’s chambers—there were sketches of concepts scattered all over your desk. Coupled with your thoughts—thoughts reliving all the situations you were thrown into that night. 

You hadn’t seen the two angels since then. Well…would you even call them that anymore?

Knock, knock, knock!

“Hey! Let me in!” You heard Ranpo’s voice from outside your house. You were still half-asleep, trying to make breakfast, but you immediately rushed to open the door. 

“Ranpo!” You were startled. “What are you doing here so early?” 

“Stop complaining. You’re going to love this.” 

He stuck his hand into his pocket and then revealed a set of shiny keys. 

“Sitting in my palm are the keys to the Sistine Chapel.”

“No way.” It was like the sight fully awakened you, like caffeine. “Ranpo…how?!” 

“Hmph!” He shook his head. “You underestimate me so much when you quite literally depend on me!” When you laughed, he continued. “Lord Fyodor’s on a business trip until next week. Do with that info as you wish.” 

“You’re a genius,” you replied with a mischievous grin as he threw you the keys. 

“Of course I am! I despise him, but I’m too lazy to mess with him right now, so I’ll just leave it up to you. After all, he didn’t want to do it initially because he thought you set it up.” 

“By me?” you asked, shocked. “He hates painting so much that he thought I had a hand in it? Imagine giving away the Sistine Chapel.”

He was really something else. Was dead set on declining the offer right until His Holiness debated giving it to me…

…

Ranpo sat at the dining table eating the remaining tarts left over while you finished washing the dishes in the kitchen after your meal. Your move had gone smoothly, and you were pleased with the home you created for yourself—the windows in front of the sink were opened, letting air and the sounds of nature in as you looked outside. 

“His Holiness instructed me to paint over the previous works in the Palace when I first walked inside because he deemed what I could produce more important than what was already up there,” you told him with your own dash of pride. You couldn’t contain the bright smile that flashed on your face. 

“Just as I suspected,” he replied, pleased. 

“...But social-wise, I think I dug a hole for myself.” 

“Definitely!” Ranpo said with no hesitation, popping another dessert into his mouth. He already knew what you were going to talk about. You gave him a look before sighing, realizing that he probably was right.

“A few days ago, I overheard people in the salons saying that…I have a special thing going on with Lord Dazai. It’s not true! I don’t know why he was being so friendly with me!” 

You hadn’t even seen him after that night. Maybe you were a little disappointed, but you should’ve seen that coming anyway. He was known as a charmer, but he hadn’t committed to anyone. And regardless, you were to marry Fyodor one day. 

Ugh, Fyodor.

“And you were friendly to him in return,” Ranpo replied. “You could’ve shrugged him off like normal rivals do. But it looked like you were completely enraptured with him.” 

Enraptured?! He was completely enraptured with me! However, you couldn’t describe to Ranpo how exactly he was—how the brunette’s eyes pleaded with yours to follow him into the eventide, how he made you feel like the only person that existed in the large crowd of people…maybe Ranpo would have his point proven.

“Well, other than that, I’ve got thee settled in Rome well enough. I’ll be here for the rest of the unwise decisions you’re going to make, but from here on out is on you, princess.” 

“Thanks, Ranpo,” you sarcastically replied. “Seriously? Unwise decisions? Rome is just different from everywhere I’ve been to before. I’m learning.” 

“Exactly, there are arts of everything,” he said. “Thou better grasp them quick or fall behind.” 

Dance. 

Deceit.

Dreams. 

Only a few you had discovered so far. 

“You fascinate me, angel of Florence. You did save me in a way.”

You couldn’t even grasp,

Dazai.

You didn’t know how long you were out. All sense of time was lost when you gained consciousness again, and you realized you had been washed up on land. 

Did God stay true to your pleas? Did an angel really come down to rescue you?

That was certainly what it seemed like in the first few seconds because you were blinded by light when you opened your eyes. You heard insects buzzing off in the distance and maybe even a bird chirping as you lay on lush grass. Perhaps you were in heaven instead, and this was your first taste of peaceful paradise. 

But all was ruined when your eyes finally focused, and a face obstructed your view. (Why was he always ruining your flawless moments?) He hovered on top of you, and the first thing you became aware of was that his mouth was dangerously close to yours. 

You immediately coughed—out of both shock and the need to. Lake water gushed out of your mouth, causing you to sit up without warning. The brunette was flung off of you, landing harshly on his bottom.

“Ow!”

You paid no mind to him as you coughed again. And again. 

When all the water was finally out of your lungs, you looked at him in utter confusion.

“Why the puzzled look?” he asked as if he wasn’t the one who was drowning and you weren’t the one saving him (and less importantly, it hadn’t looked like he was about to kiss you).

Now he sat beside you, almost perfectly fine if it weren’t for his clothes that were soaked. 

“But…you—we were drowning?” You turned to see if anyone else was in the distance because who was it that saved both of you? 

“Yeah, I was drowning,” the man replied, and you now noticed the honey color of his eyes that had been shielded behind closed eyelids and pretty eyelashes earlier. “And this time, it almost worked! Until you decided to rescue me!” 

“Um, what?” You asked sharply, even more bewildered at the way he tried to make your efforts sound negative. 

“At first, I thought maybe thou were a lovely lady who wanted to commit double suicide with me! But I realized that wasn’t the case when you started fighting to get some air…” 

“Are you crazy?” you asked, not caring whether you were speaking impolitely or not. “Double suicide? Why else would I dive into a cold lake to join a stranger? And you were aware of what was happening all along?” 

“Maybe! Women have done a lot to try to get close to me.” You didn’t believe him. “And, well, yeah! Obviously, I couldn’t continue because of two things. The first was you because I couldn’t let an innocent involved be harmed along with me! I had to save you, of course.” 

You became even more irritated. “You wouldn’t have had to if you didn’t pretend you were drowning! I had to use all my strength to rescue you, y’know! I could’ve died as well!” 

“But you didn’t!” the brunette replied. “There was no way I was going to let someone so beautiful drown.”

You scowled at him before you stood up. “You’re ridiculous. What’s your second reason?” 

“Drowning in a lake ended up becoming uncomfortable.” You wanted to punch him in the face—uncomfortable was an obvious understatement. “I didn’t like the feeling of suffocation that set in, so I just decided to give up.” 

“It didn’t even look like you had any air left in you,” you muttered, facing your back towards him, remembering his placid expression earlier. “How were you conscious if you weren’t even holding your breath?” 

“Party trick,” he responded, and when you dared to glance back, he wore a smug grin. 

“Oh…are you leaving me then?” he asked as you started walking away, saying no more. 

“Why wouldn’t I?” you scoffed, not stopping. “I’m completely soaked, and I don’t know about you, but I have important things to get to.” 

You heard a chuckle from him. “Is that so?” he asked. His voice was getting farther, meaning he was no longer following you. “Where are you headed?” 

“Rome.” 

“I live there. Perhaps we shall meet again. And then, I could ask you—properly—if you would like to commit a double suicide with me.” 

“I doubt it,” you replied, assured you were never going to see this man whose face looked kissed by Aphrodite herself again. Perhaps you would’ve found him handsome if he was in a less disheveled state. 

As if you did not already. 

“Why do you seem so sure? Anything can happen.” He chuckled once again. 

Well, I am a painter, and you don’t look like someone who would even have an eye for art, is what you wanted to say. But you didn’t want to open more doors to curiosity and stay there even longer. 

“Maybe you’re right,” you stopped. “Okay, then.

“If you think you’re going to see me again, can you promise to not kill yourself until then? Until I agree to you?” 

You figured you would just give him some hope so that your efforts to save him would not be in vain. If he would actually keep your word, anyway. 

When you turned around, the brunette was still standing on the shore, and he had a smile on his face. 

He really did carry the setting sun in his gaze. It was still midday, but the man’s soul seemed to prefer the softer shades of light that appeared just before the cool shades of night. 

And you felt his eyes tenderly cupping your face, even though you were feet away from each other. You weren’t sure if you were so lost that you were imagining things—but he looked at you as if he’d known you a hundred lifetimes, longing to touch your soul once again. 

“I pinkie promise,” he said. 

You thought that finally ended the conversation, but he asked one more thing. 

“Your name?” he asked. 

“Do you really need it?” It was unlikely, but you didn’t know if he would recognize your name. You didn’t want to risk anyone knowing about this encounter. 

“I saved you,” he said. “I almost thought you were done for. You still weren’t breathing when I performed chest compressions, so I had to—” 

“Okay, stop right there!” you interrupted, becoming flustered. You didn’t need to hear the rest. You imagined the stranger’s mouth on yours—trying to give you oxygen, of course, but his mouth on yours regardless. 

You told him your name. “Don’t bother with yours. I’ll figure it out if we run into each other again.” 

His grin was smug. “Fare thee well, mia belladonna.

“Until we meet again.” 

…

“You can find anything in the promised land, solnyshka.”

ur man of choice (or both if u’d like) dances with u during the ball if u rb; reblogs are incredibly cherished; they are what support me the most. <3

WE DID ITT !! i hope this was decent, tbh i’m rly nervous HAHA ᡣ𐭩 dazai rly got most of the love here, but i promise there’s waay more to come.

+ check THIS FOR EXTRA INFO/LORE, it’s cool ;) comment on the masterlist to be added to the tagslist !! & ilu if you made it this far, thank you so so much for reading ᰔ

TERMS & DEFINITIONS:

CIOPPA - outermost layer of a dress

RUELLA - salons/social gatherings

ALMAINE - slow court dance; GALLIARD - fast court dance (in the renaissance)

TRANSLATIONS: (not all bcz they wanna be mysterious)

gramercy - “thank you”

artigiani; aristocratici - artisans; aristocrats (italian)

bonam noctem - “good night” (latin)

© AUREATCHI 2024. no reposts or translations. do not steal. support banner + animated line divider by cafekitsune. header + series dividers mine; DO NOT SAVE.

[starlightmoon96]

Yandere TFP Ratchet x female human reader(Gundam model builder nerd) pt.1

(Not a lot of fanfics of gundam builder nerds and I figured that it would make a perfect combo for something a little different)

__

You where a gundam nerd, from the old models from the 90's to the much more modern ones. Even as a kid you had a strong love for them and would always ask your parents in getting you the model you wanted, your mom was confused why you wanted figurine models like a nerd that lived in his parents basement and never spoken to real women before. Though she saw that you where improving in school with your focus and ingenuity thanks to building the models, your father was on your side with the model building and supported it seeing how much it was helping. By the time you graduated high school you where already a master builder and model painter, so much so that you had gotten commission orders and started earning income for college.

As to how you met the autobots, well it was by accident really bulkhead had almost ran you over after you where in a hurry in getting the tools you needed for your recent commission order. That's where it started, it also worked great for you in having a new building area at the base for more of your detail works. Ratchet wasn't that happy when Optimus as assigned him to you as your guardian and you didn't argue much, you where living your greatest dream. To you it was like having real gundams around and you couldn't be any happier. The kids especially miko where impressed that you build gundam models and being paid in building them, Raf was impressed by the detail work you did with the hand painting of a master grade model that was for a commission.

When the kids were at school you stayed at the base a good chunk of the time since you did online classes and the large space you now had really helped you out, at first Ratchet was worried that you where a talking. But to his surprise you weren't when you where working on a model project or doing school work, he was happy that you understood the value of space and not speaking unless spoken too. You reminded him of himself especially seeing how focused you where in paying attention to details on your models, a lot like him with paying attention to detail whenever he works. He had grown curious into your building and painting, though he admits that he was impressed by some of the designs of the gundams especially the high grades in seeing the detail work and small parts.

Ratchet was impressed when you showed him the detail how too sheets in putting the models together, the amount of patients and being observant for what your liked building got his attention and he ended up started to talk to you and open up to you a little bit more.

To his surprise you wanted to know the model details of his species, you explained your reasons because of all the gundam you had watch and was curious. None of the human children of Fowler had ever asked that before and you where generally curious which he could tell, it had also brought up your science and engineer side that he had never noticed before upon him showing you his blueprints. Seeing your eyes sparkle seeing the blueprints fascinated him, he didn't think humans where capable of being mesmerized by cybertronian anatomy. He slowly started feeling close to you like thee other members of his team with the human children, though he was happy he had someone knew to talk too and understand.

When the children weren't around or the rest of the autobots where out, Ratchet would talk with you when you where at the base working on another model. Instead of building you where painting a 3-D model that you where being paid in doing for a client.

"You've been doing a lot of painting lately (Y/N), is there a reason?" Ratchet asked that out of curiosity and you replied while still staying focused on your model

"I have a deadline with some of these models, I also need the extra cash in paying my tuition loan. It's starting to breath down my neck. The faster I get these done the faster I get paid, not to mentioned my jerk landlord just increased my rent." Ratchet heard thee annoyance in your voice, you continued speaking as you sighed

"If I'm being honest with ya, I'm afraid I might have to move back with my parents if things get worse." Hearing that part Ratchet couldn't help but be a little concerned

"Didn't you mention something about not being from Jasper?"

"Yay I grew up around Los Vegas, serious nightmare fuel for builders like myself and a lot of freaks at night. I like Jasper because it's quiet and no crazy weirdos or basement nerds wanting my phone number." Where your words when you got focused back on your model that you where almost finished with, you didn't notice the look Ratchet was giving you while you where focused on something else. He had concern, he had finally found someone knew and interesting to talk to even if it was human. He started even enjoying your company and like listening to your conversations with him, he didn't want to lose you. Though when he realized that he started questioning himself about what he was feeling, now this is an old bot much like Optimus who wasn't the confident with his emotions and YOU knew right away that Ratchet had little to no experience when it came to romance. But he wasn't thee only bot you noticed that had that same problem, you easily could tell that Optimus Prime was in a worse bot than Ratchet when it came to love. Both felt appreciation and care but it wasn't the same thing, you could easily roast everyone's lives and choose not too in not being a jerk.

Despite your strong love in Gundams more than real guys you where an expert in dating, you had helped a lot of nerds getting girlfriends and they paid you well enough to cover half of your college tuition before you graduated. They even paid you extra in giving them a makeover, along with speak dating progress. When you moved you had to leave your match making business and it was when you had finished painting the model was when you had thee idea in restarting that business, using Jack and Miko in helping to spread the word would really help you out.

Now for Ratchet when he started to see you a little less after close to a week because of your online classes or had recently started your other side business with the help of the children, it had started making him a little depressed. It was in your absence that he realized that he had cared for you a little too much and was in denial of it, it didn't want to convince himself that he had developed feeling for a human. Little did he know that him in denial would make things worse....

[tommieglenn]

A watercolour commission for @blorbologist of Percy and Fox!Vex'ahlia

Check out her Fox Woman Dreaming Perc'ahlia AU fic!! It's written so beautifully <3

___________

Also in October I'm having -25% off the commission prices. Here is the info about that, if you'd like to commission me <3

___________

Links

[sweeneydino]

Welcome to my humble abode.

🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍🌈 lgbtq+ safe space.

✨️Surprise✨️

Turtles and random fandoms I may pop into galore.

Ignore the soda cans and crumbled pieces of paper, never really got the chance to clean that up.

This will collect dust just like all of my other projects and dreams.

No, Commissions are not open (づ_ど)

Please note that this is my escape from life (ง˙∇˙)ว so I might not respond to A LOT. See end notes.

Archive of Our Own (AO3) Fanfics

Lime meets emerald[HIATUS]

Spikeangelo

The Good Father

Comics

Weapons of Hamato [1]

Alternate Universe Shenanigans

Spikeangelo AU!

Au idea | Titan

Spikeangelo Asks!

Transporters don't act like they do in Space Heroes Leo! (TSHL) [CW: BODY HORROR]

Au Idea

Mold

Weapons of Hamato

Au Idea

New Friend [Part 1]

Weapons of Hamato

The Good Father

Au Idea | Rat Dads in New York

Grown Up Don

Future Menace

Past Remembrance / PT.2

Paper Scales/ Little Dragons [CW: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH]

LITTLE DRAGONS

Au idea | Explored

Splintering | Father's Day | Forgive me

Little Dragons | Dragons | Twin Disasters | Eldest and Youngest |Oh Fuck THEY ARE GROWING UP | Awakened Dads | Mood Ring

Himbo | Uncle Mike

New Years | January 1st

DANGER | Forms of a Monster | Trouble

Strange occurrences | Prey drive | Clear Picture | Mimicking | Stronk | Friends | Moody | Omen | Mystic Bab | Holy Shit | Honey | Buddy | Travel

Tot adventures

Actual fucking dragons | Dai | Mura & Aoi | Akai | COLORS

Fanart: 🧡 🧡 💜

A FANFIC BY @/SHYADRI ON TUMBLR AGAIN THANK YOU SMH CHECK THEM OUT PLEASE 🙏 IDK IF I SHOULD @ THEM HERE SO PLEASE LOOK THEM UP THANK YOU

Collection of other Free-to-use AUS [CW:BLOOD/GORE]

1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5

Honestly, a lot of my stuff is free to use. Just credit me is all I ask 😌... unless it's my big ones, then tell me first.

Animations

Shelldon's Daisy

Where is the pizza, Casey?

Give Splinter a break man

TAP

Sunrise Duo, but with a little red

Mystic Bab

Posers

Side Blogs

Mostly Sanic stuff with gay hedgehogs @lintandsteal

Stuff I scraped out of the bottom of my toilet (18+ ONLY because I have 0 clue what I'll pop out on there) @trashinyourpockets

A fair warning that although I draw A LOT fluff and baby turtles, I also draw(and sometimes write) whump, a lot of angst and gore/extremly violent art(those will be properly tagged in their own post).

My joy in drawing cute stuff must be counterbalanced.

Don't take my silence as me being a dick lmao, I'm just incredibly anxious and terrified of social interaction. So like... I'm probably not the best person to rely on for a ton of things lol. Just chill and we cool. Also I'm unmedicated now, so I am 5x as bad to rely on. I forget shit A LOT, so don't ask me to help you, I'm actually terrible at it 😭

[sappymix1]

roulette

7.8k words, dnf, getting together, artist dream!!!!!

The funny thing was, actually, that George didn’t look surprised in the slightest when Dream asked to draw him. He was gorgeous. He probably had artists begging to paint him every day of his life. Burnt out starving artists trying and failing to find inspiration by jerking off to their own pain and falling to his feet in desperation. That wasn’t projection on Dream’s behalf, he told himself firmly. He would have asked to paint George if he had just been commissioned for whatever the French equivalent to the Sistine Chapel would be. But George had said no. - Dream is an American artist struggling to find inspiration in Paris until he runs into George, the only person he wants to draw and the only person who won't let him.

for @theftshrubbery's classics collab :3 inspired by the artist's wife reading by albert bartholomé!!!!

[knightyoomyoui]

Mina x M/F Reader - "Need You Now"

One of my shortest one-shots in the book. Sorry if this is unlike most of my longer fics, unfortunately I have to say that due to how busy I am in my life right now, I can still insert wriing stories in my free time, but not as long as I use to do anymore. Probably my one-shots from now on will be like less than 3 or 5k word count. This fic is inspired from one of my favorite songs of all time, "Need You Now" by Lady Antebellum. The structure of this story is in a music video-type narrative, so while reading this you can just imagine this as an alternative MV with the song in the background. I may have done the ending a little bit longer for the final chorus but I needed to add atleast more dialogue so yeah, just skip any unneccesary parts in your mind to fit it in the song haha. Lastly, I don't accept any commissions for now but I'm very open to accept any donations for you kind readers as another way of appreciation for my works. I can use this for my upcoming on-the-job training so please if you can spare some, I would be highly grateful. ko-fi.com/knightyoomyoui Enjoy reading!

It is nighttime of a random day in the 1700s in Japan, and Myoui Mina is currently living alone in her house. She is standing in front of the window as she views the townscape of Kobe with all the illuminated lights coming from the houses and posts. While her eyes are fixed on the scenery, her mind is busy projecting an image of a certain person to cope with the sadness she’s feeling.

Picture perfect memories with you is what she has been replaying on her mind again and again, in which she won’t stop or get tired at all, just like she can do with just being around you. All she feels is joy and tranquility within your presence, and although she needed it right now, it makes her disappointingly wonder why this day is just going to end up unlike what she had with you before.

Her almost-a-month of longing for you has already reached its breaking point, not for the idea of only meeting you in her dreams but to the annoying fact that you had to disappear without leaving any trace for her to follow or indication to be relieved that you’re doing well on wherever you may be at right now.

She reached for the telegraph in her table and tries to contact you until she realizes that she never had your contact with him and it will rather end up being pointless, just like as her search around the town that she has done few days ago, inquiring for your whereabouts.

Slamming the telegraph back into its place, Mina groaned and sighed heavily with a frown on her face. She sat on the bed, her energy deteriorating as the likelihood of receiving a response or an update about you increased. It’s already a wasted 49th attempt at reaching back to you, and she wondered how long it would take to be ignored like this.

Mina then started to question you by herself: did you ever become happy with her and do you even still think about her even when you're not around to spend time together with her? She knows that you already knew that she hates feeling abandoned anymore, and now that you act like you are unaware of it, Mina is now wondering twice if you even listened or understood why she said that and especially

when she told you how much you mean for her.

If she'll be the one to ask the same, she admits that she is and she does it always until now. She won’t be this determinated to find and learn any news about what you may be doing if you’re just somebody that she’s close with. No, for Mina… you turned out to be the only person that holds special purpose in her life.

And not having you anymore will make Mina lose interest or simply, a reason to continue living again. Twice is enough if the pain will just be doubled, she believes.

Mina has checked the time and realizes it's been already quarter after 1 AM that she remained awake. It made her broke down in tears, knowing that this isn't like her who waits for this long and the fear to be alone again is eating her up inside more in which you once helped her to fight it since the first time she met you.

Looking at the telegraph again, she said to herself that she won't call anymore, thinking that she might probably be disturbing you or becoming strange with her frantic efforts of searching for you, but Mina has already lost control, and she doesn't care anymore if she has become this desperate.

She just needs you tonight, and now that you’re gone after showing her how it feels to have someone by her side after living most of her life without a family, relative, or even friends, she doesn't know how she can manage without having you again in her life.

Meanwhile, not so far away from your hometown and from Mina’s sanctuary, you were cleaning your weapons until it got interrupted when your concentration vanished again just by the memory of Mina affecting your heart and mind.

You looked out the window, reflecting the dark sky and atmosphere outside. A sudden concern about how she may be doing had obliged your body to react. Letting out a huge exhale, you stood up and proceeded to your brewery to grab another bottle of whiskey.

Pouring one into the glass and taking it as medicine for missing Mina a lot again alleviates the loneliness from the state you are in. You kept your composure; you know the time is running out, and you just had to remain still and focus on the plan.

The more you keep remembering Mina, the more you have begun to appreciate every aspect of her, even more than you have ever crossed your mind. But then you have seemed to notice that whenever you have an episode of this, a strange feeling is lingering inside your heart.

Which led you to speculate if maybe you are now enjoying the existence of Mina like, way more or far away from just being a friend or a companion that you met when you were alone strolling through the forest. The thoughts of her being actually deadly gorgeous in a way that is obviously not a normal compliment anymore and her admiring personality have captured your attention further to how she really is as a mesmerizing woman.

You looked at the door shut, missing those moments where Mina would just freely sweep open through it and greet you with her gummy smile and her adorable cheeks that puff whenever she’s happy. If only she can visit you again, it will not be the same exchange that you’ll definitely do for her this time.

You owe her one that is more than that, that’s why. But then you took note that you'd save it for later as the perfect time is about to arrive soon nonetheless.

You checked the time and it's been quarter to 1 AM already. You also became aware that you’re starting to get drunk now. The alcohol increased the emotions you’ve been caging up inside, causing you to lose control that results to your tears containing the minimum of what you’re entirely feeling right now that’s making you obvious that you simply want to see Mina again.

You swore that you wouldn't call for her to keep your focus on the plan but at your drunken state, you have gotten lost out of your control, betraying your very own words.

You kept on mentioning Mina's name as you promised to yourself that you’ll come find and save her because if you don’t, you aren’t sure at all on what you can do without her.

And at the same time as when Mina declares to herself that she needs you, it wasn’t coincidental that you share the same sentiment.

Timeskip to 4AM early in the morning, Mina was peacefully sleeping on her bed when her enhanced senses had her alerted back to conscience. She rose from the bed and noticed some flashing lights and growing silhouettes coming from outside the window. It should’ve been dark and quiet during this time since it was still too early.

Checking out to gain a better glimpse of what source its coming from, she observed that the townspeople are marching into her house all bringing their tall torches and knives with them.

“Is there a ceremony being performed today? W-why are they making their way through here?” Mina then watched them seperate, in a form that they’re surrounding her house.

“D-do they know already?” Getting the hint that they all are now aware of her true nature, based on the knives and torches they brough with them, she became scared that this will be the time that she'll die.

They all began to yell and some went on to bump the front door repeatedly. Mina rushes to close the door of her bedroom. Hearing the door collapse from outside, footsteps and chatters came near towards her hiding place.

Mina started to block the door with her body as the townspeople banged through her door again, their intentions come full obvious that they came here with one objective, and that is to eliminate the impostor that has been living with them all along.

“Ah! P-please, stop!” she yelps and cries for mercy as she remains to secure all the doors for her safety while they barge into her place, she wishes for you to come for the last time

until she heard series of growls, curses, and screams from outside.

She tried to take a peek through the little gap that she made by opening the door a little. “YN!!!!!!!” Mina became horrified to witness you getting teamed up by your fellow townspeople with some dead people lying around as they bathe in their own blood along with some scattered through the walls because of what you did.

With your bloody huge knife, she realized that you came all around here to rescue Mina only to get outnumbered because of the ampunt of townspeople gathered to hunt and kill her kind.

“MINA!!! RUNNNN!!!!!” She heard you yell for her name while being battered and dominated by your monstrous townsmen. They all looked around to find her, and they spotted Mina peeking through the door.

She closed it again and barricaded it with her body. Their more aggressive bumps and your wails with your brutally awful state had Mina whimpering and crying poorly.

The pity she feels for you however loaded her infuriation. Every second her eyes blink, her pupils flicker into a purplish color. As she gritted her teeth, her hands clawed with some bio-kinetic energy forming like a ball through her grasp.

Her hair floats at the intense air caused by her transformation, and suddenly her witch powers awakened. She points her hands at the door and blast through it, sending all the townspeople back. The rest looked at her horrifyingly as Mina steps out of the shadows with her figure beaming in all purplish magic.

“KILL THE WITCH!!!” The all roared but Mina used her magic to dismantle every townspeople who go against her and YN, all in brutal fashion.

After she splits a woman in half in mid air with her innards and blood splattered across the room and into her face, she then got caught by the last three men by firing bullets at her, making her groan in pain.

They were about to do a double tap when you quickly stood back up despite being wrapped around in ropes. You attacked them by tackling and headbutting them away from Mina before you leave them for her to finish them all by exploding their brains out.

As she slowly calmed down and degenerates her magic, she breathe heavily and saw you staring at her in awe, speechless at her true identity as a witch. You know who she really is, but this is the first time you’ve seen her in her full potential.

Mina got afraid of how you will but in her surprise, you ran through her and reconciled with her in an embrace.

“A-aren’t you scared of me?”

“Of who you really are? I have accepted you since the beginning, I’m rather scared of what they might do to you.”

She immediately broke down in tears around your arms. “W-where have you’ve been all time? I thought you’ll leave me forever.”

“I’m sorry, Mina. I know, it’s all my fault that I didn’t inform you at all, but its all according to my plan and it has to be done.”

“So you knew about this?”

“I did. I overheard my tutors that one of them discovered your background of being a Myoui, a well-known family came from a coven of witches that they’ve… k-killed years ago. And since they knew me being close to you, I hide and there, I began making my plan to rescue you with the help of an informant.” You revealed the reason to your disappearance.

“Y-you did that f-for me? B-but you hurt yourself came all the way back here because of me… and you killed your-”

“Ofcourse and I don’t care about it, I rather can’t consume the guilt more of having you harmed than killing others who dares to lay their abusive hands at you. Y-you’re… you’re the only person I care… and love the most than anyone, Mina. You’re the only one I have left as much as you have me only in your life. I came here not just because I have to save you. I need you now, Mina. I can’t wait any longer again to see you.”

Mina cried again and buried her head deeper in your chest. “I need you now too, YN. And always. I’ve waited for you to come back.”

“And I’m here now, Mina. I’m never going away anymore. Whoever come across against us, we’ll face them together.”

You kissed her on the lips after breaking your hug with her. She was shocked at your action but it didn’t took her more time to catch up with your movement. As you and Mina stare at each other, both then smiled at this new found relationship that grew within your bond.

You helped Mina stand up and covered all her gunshot wounds, not minding your own evidence of violence through your beaten body. “I think we should go now, others will start coming here and they won’t like what they’re gonna see.”

You offered her hand at her and she looked at it before she returned her gaze at your face. “Should we run away from here?”

“I’ll follow you wherever we go.” Mina accepted, holding your hand with firm grip, enough to consider that she’ll forever stay by your side.

You nodded at her. Pulling her along with you, both left her house and all the deceased fellow townspeople inside as you escape the grotesque scene with Mina.

[acid-ixx]

ive recently read this post made by @pantalonte and it's reminding me of hard-dom yandere scaramouche that people often write and nooo i can't tolerate it at all </3

i don't know much about kaveh but what i do know is that he's passionate, a perfectionist, and he cares too much. and when he's obsessed with you then it evidently seeps into his personality. he'd love to share ideas with you, love to see your interest in his crafts, and he'll make sure that with whatever topic you've talked about with him— he's done research on.

it's no doubt that even his roommate would eventually become annoyed at the incredibly obsessed architect who does nothing but yap about you, you, and you. how he'd love to settle in with you by the near future with a house, no, a mansion that he specifically crafts in regards to your tastes (but you're not even in a relationship, yet). wouldn't you relish at the fact that he has multiple blueprints finished that are all inspired by you? he may not earn a lot but he's even willing to take painful commissions that don't cater to his aesthetic just so he could save up some mora for your future home. he knows that his love for you is oozing in every bit of his life but he can't help it at all- he's never drowned in love before he even met you; and he've so much love to offer you.

he's definitely one of the more subservient and submissive yanderes that i could tackle. after all, i can imagine him kneeling on a cold, hard floor if you're on the meaner side, just to please you. he's also the type to be easily jealous and showy on his affections, at the same time flustered if you show him an ounce of it. if someone else were to flirt with him then whoever that person may be, i'd feel bad for because he won't shut up, in a defensive tone no less, about how nobody else can can compare to you: his muse, his love, his world, his everything. but when you flirt with him then he'll have no responses to come back with because his mind is hay-wiring.

jealous yan kaveh! is not only obsessive possessive, but wants to be possessed by you, in a way. he wants to be your only object of affection. he wants your eyes on him; and he'll make sure of that. if you've specific tastes then he'll cater to it, whether it'd be striking up a topic with you on a casual day or even going as far as stealing all your attention and time to ask for your opinion on a future 'mansion' he's planning to build (you wouldn't even know that every single one of your opinion is taken seriously to a T).

murder is definitely not first in his mind whenever his brain is clogged with the thought of competition, but he finds himself subconsciously guilt-tripping whoever is taking your attention, and sometimes even you because of how terribly he keeps his emotions in check. and because he opens up his heart to you, you're well-aware about his financial issues and that's a topic he'd vaguely mention in a conversation with you, and a useless face with a name he won't remember. he's independent, yes, but your sympathy and pity on him is something he'd unknowingly devour as you become closer with the architect.

his heart flutters at the thought of you helping him with a project, or a domestic life where he most certainly caters to the idea of being your house husband. he's passionate, so it won't be long 'til he learns a thing or two about housekeeping. and if he messes up on chores, then who's to say you wouldn't help your poor, needy husband? ahhh, just dreaming about your futures sure does things to his beating heart.

drunk yan kaveh! would be the cutest company you'll ever have if he's with you, and would be the most annoying if not. with his intolerance to alcoholic beverages, he'll be bound to confess. and no doubt that he's a light drinker but you'll never expect him to be drunk after a few shots, no? he's all over you, blushing and giggling and muttering about how you're the love of his life; his soulmate. he nearly falls off his seat trying to scoot over to your body, attempting to hug you, dare even kiss your cheeks and nape if you permit it. his head lolls over your shoulder as he whispers directly beneath your ears that you're the most stunning person he's ever had the joy to meet, that if he could (and most definitely would)- he'll offer you the world, maybe the universe, even if it's impossible.

[justmwahstruly]

YELLOOOOOO

hi hi hiiii! I’m Das !! I usually just go by that or Mwah, but other nicknames include Dasee/Dassi, Dasan, Dassa, or Galileo !! I don’t mind any pronouns, including neos ! im a baby gay (which means I am a MINOR!!!)

I’m an artist! I love bright colours and neons, I regularly stab people’s eyeballs. (with provided warnings, of course <3)

i use tags for my posts from time to time!! (I’ve been slacking a bit though…)

talk tag— #mwahthinkies

reblog tag— #reblogger

art tag— #mwahrt (or just #art, i forget a lot JAJA)

mutual tag (that i seldom use)— #mootie patooties 🫶

ask tag— #mwahskies

I’m in wayyyyy too many fandoms y'all. I suppose the main ones are Gabby’s Dollhouse, Dandy’s World (i do NOT support the creators), Welcome Home (@/partycoffin), Dream Along with Me (@/dreammeiser), and Pokémon! I realllllyyyyyyyy like puppets okay

Creator of the project Celestial Queendom! As well as the Welcome Home Zombie and Steampunk AUs! (All of which are still MAJORLY in development <\3)

other socials!

Instagram | Cara | Bluesky | AF | Discord Server | more

Commissions OPEN! Info

Requests CLOSED.

STRAWPAGE!! CHECK IT OUT PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLE

@zombopaline is my hoe bitchass brother who I hate and is unfortunately gross and cishet

taken by Linz <3

aaaaand my birthday is on 9/10! If I hear one 9/11 joke I’m shooting someone

I love y’all!! Have a nice stay on my blog!

[sukinapan]

honestly would be pretty interested in hearing about all of them, if thats alright

it's no problem o( ❛ᴗ❛ )o i like talking about this

for context, apart from making personal art i'm also an artist and character designer at Smarto Club, so I don't know if these count as OCs but i have posted art of them here: Haco from >Bubblegum Galaxy and Teacup from >Teacup.

you can check the steam pages on those games for more info if u like. i love all my characters but i don't usually make personal art of these two since i already do it as my job.

my newest Smarto Club character is a bit different since she's more in the style of what i'm doing personally so i want to make more art of her soon. her name is Abigail:

she's a kid who likes reading about bugs and catching them but she never hurts them : ) this is a short game in early development but it's about catching creatures called angels. it's got horrorish vibes but i don't think the end result will be full-out horror, since it's also kinda silly...

then there's Peklo, it's a game for which i created the whole concept and story but the plan is to develop it as a studio at Smarto Club. i wrote more context for it on this post, but for the characters, they're my favorites to make art about at the moment. the main ones are Kiku (the cat) and Mi (the bunny):

i recently created these human forms of them for fun but i'm not sure whether i'll establish them as canon or not... they're trapped in limbo/hell so there's space for them to have a past human form. they don't remember their lives but Kiku feels a deep sense of regret about things unkown to her and wants to break out of Peklo. Mi feels trapped in an eternal sadness, she longs to see the ocean, she can always hear it but has never been able to reach it.

the antagonist in Peklo is a frog entity called Guppy but i haven't really shown him outside of his froggy logo

i also have OCs from my smaller games. there's Hlina that i created specifically for >this game that was commissioned to me for a zine. i don't have any plans to use her again for now but i might make more art of her in the future for fun. she's part of a strange dream realm and is hostile to the player:

there's iro from the >game with the same name who's my oldest game OC. i created that bitsy game for her story but she existed previously in my art degree final project, it was a version of the same story but just a section of it. it's a dream of mine to create a full-fledged 3D game for her some day.

she's a bit of a defective space exploration robot, sent to explore planetoid Iridium-3 in search of human contact. it's set in a future where humanity has dispersed among the whole galaxy so lots of groups have lost contact with each other.

my latest game OC is Michtat, a wizard cat that i created just for this silly zine.

lasty, there’s the characters from my comic that I’m working on, called The most distant planet. the main characters are Victor and Mitya, two 9 year olds whose families end up living together.

i'd say these are the dearest characters to me of all. i don't post as much of them because they're mostly in the shape of comic pages and it doesn't spark as much interest as my games. i love drawing them though.

they’re both little weirdos who isolate themselves and don’t fit in much with other children, so the friendship they develop is very special to them. they have almost opposite personalities where Victor (darker hair) is very shy and dorky but also very sweet to everyone, while Mitya mostly gives 0 fucks about what anyone thinks or says, he blurts out whatever he’s thinking and just wants to run around wild.

the story is mostly slice of life-ish but there’s also a science fiction element ^-^ Victor is obsessed with things like ghosts, aliens, etc but Mitya thinks it’s all just dumb tales.

another important character is Alyosha, Mitya’s 17-18yo brother. he doesn’t know how to talk or relate to his little brother and is kinda weirded out by him. they where very close when they were younger, but when Mitya was 2 he had an accident that Alyosha feels guilty about, and has been somehow different ever since.

he still worries about his little brother and how isolated he is, though. at the beginning of the story the two of them live alone with their grandma who does love them but has kind of a cold and distant personality. 

Alyosha was the type of kid to be considered “gifted” but now feels completely burnt out and had to repeat a grade at school. he felt so humiliated by this he eventually stopped going entirely, so he now works part time and just studies at home. he cut contact with his old classmates but he still has 2 best friends from the last few months he spent at school in the grade below, Manon and Min Na. they’re the kind of friends who just show up unannounced at his house and job, and are very involved with his family’s life.

i’ve also included Min Jie in some art, she’s Min Na’s younger cousin and comes into the story later:

i should have like character sheets and stuff for all of these OCs but i’m the kind to just jump head first into drawing/modeling lol, that's why i included all these finished illustrations.

i really wanna publish this comic, i’ve been working on it for a long time and i’m currently waiting for the results of a public funding application here in my country to decide what i'll do next.

hope this could be of interest (^人^) thanks for the ask!

[leiatalon]

hi hi! just played through both IFs and i loooooved both of them so much!! great balance of story/romance <3 i was wondering if you had any faceclaims for the ROs in both books??

Hi! What a wonderful ask! I'm thrilled to hear you enjoyed Ink and Intrigue and Their Majesties' Pleasure! Thank you so much for saying so!

I actually had to look up faceclaims. 🤣 Yes, I'm old-ish.

I don't really have a celebrity cast or anything for my characters. The only solid FCs I have to share are the illustrations I used as inspiration for Prince Galen and Prince Julian while writing TMP. These beauties are on my wallpaper, staring at me with intensity whenever I manage to close or hide all my programs. I love them so! This art is by Asha Venger and shared with permission. I would LOVE to commission art for my WIP characters from her! Gah! It would be an absolute dream. These are actually Celengorm and Curufin from LotR.

As for the rest of the characters, I try to describe them as best I can in the stories and let the reader imagine as they will. The game art by Adrien Valdes is really well done. I provided a bunch of images as guides for the artist, including the ones above, but the other examples are from artists I don't have permission to share, or AI art used out of desperation to give Adrien a guide to follow. (I won't share AI art publicly for obvious reasons.) Here is the game art for each of my games, just so we can have it all in one place and admire the pretties!

I love this art. Really truly.

Though I'd still love to get more character art commissioned for TMP and INK, I'm hoping to have a patreon up soon so I can start saving for character commissions for my next project.

Thanks so much for the ask!

[llamagoddessofficial]

A lovely commission from @vallleyoflilllies, Error being a silly tsundere and not knowing how to deal with his crush on a human <3 absolutely CLASS idea

---

He was back again.

You could always tell when he was back- you’d come home from work and hear the sounds of a random dramatic soap opera drifting from the TV. He liked those... he would binge-watch entire series’ in one sitting. 

... You shook some of the droplets off your coat, then hung it up to let it drip-dry for a bit. The weather was pretty grim outside. You headed to your room first, changing into pyjamas and picking up your project... you didn’t have any other outings planned today. Sitting with him on the couch sounded really nice.

You made your way to the sofa, flopping down beside him unceremoniously. He didn’t look at you. He wasn’t watching a soap opera today, though- he was watching some cooking show you’d never seen before, based in Italy.

“This is new.” You commented. “Why’re you watching an old people cooking show? You never cook. All you do is eat my food.”

“i put-t-t it on for you, actually. since your cook-k-king is gross.” He said, still not looking at you. You knew him well enough to know his words had no real venom to them. “take notes, glitch.”

You snickered. “Doesn’t stop you from coming back. Weirdo.”

You liked when he was here. 

Error... he had a habit of appearing out of nowhere. Literally- he’d appear out of thin air. Disappearing for days, then showing up again, acting like no time passed. Your first encounter with him had been him shaking you awake in the middle of the night; he was visibly upset and berated you for leaving your stove on by accident, informing you you could’ve had a fire if he wasn’t there to turn it off. You were so tired, and so perplexed by what was occurring, that you just sheepishly apologised- convinced you were dreaming. Apparently somewhat mollified by your apology, he proceeded to... vanish like a mirage.

...

Well. You obviously wrote that off as the strangest episode of sleep hallucination you’d ever had.

The next occurrence was when you left a cupboard door open, and almost stood up into the opened door. You would’ve whacked your head pretty hard. But a firm, large hand on your head stopped you from standing up fully- you heard the sound of a closing cupboard and a glitched “st-t-upid human, you’re going to hurt yoursel-l-lf.”. You were absolutely shocked to look up and see that the monster from your ‘dream’ the other night was real, and glaring down at you.

... He then disappeared. Again. Like he wasn’t even there. You didn’t have time to process it.

It happened with further and further frequency, and for lesser and lesser reasons. At first, it was things of genuine concern, he would make sure you weren’t leaving your oven on, he’d replace the battery in your carbon monoxide alarm. Then stuff of slightly less importance... shutting off a tap you left running. Plugging in your phone overnight when you’d forgotten. And it wasn’t long before it was stuff of absolutely zero concern- turning off the TV when you weren’t in the room, tidying up your shoes when you left them at an askew angle by the door, washing up plates you’d abandoned on the counter. 

Oddly, it felt like in certain ways, he had completely slipped under your radar. Of course you were concerned that a large glitching skeleton monster somehow possessed the ability to instantly get in and out of your home. Of course you were worried about your privacy, your safety, his intentions. He would sometimes look at you for several seconds, unbroken, yellow eyelights blank despite your nervous queries- other times, he would say confusing jittering things to you or himself, about ‘universes’ and ‘alternates’. ‘Mistakes’ he had to ‘eradicate’.

... But... also...

... You weren’t worried at all.

Error was funny. Both intentionally, and unintentionally. He tried to act all tough, speaking with barbs and calling you a ‘glitch’- but to you, he was so clearly all bark and no bite. You shot right back, calling him a broken record player and a weird homeless guy... he took it in stride. He obviously delighted in having someone to play off. To banter with.

... He clearly liked you. He kept coming back, again and again. And you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like him too.

Did you still have questions? Sure. But in the end, it wasn’t really worth driving yourself crazy over stuff like his secret backstory. He could obviously go in and out of your home completely at will, he could rob you blind or murder you if he so pleased. All he did was do a few menial chores, and occasionally eat some of your food.

He clearly just... needed someone.

At this point in your... ‘relationship’... Error seemed to have given up on the excuse of doing chores in order to be in your home. He still did them, sure, but sometimes he’d just stay anyway. Once he seemed to clock that you tolerated him, whether or not he was unexpectedly picking up your dry cleaning, he began sticking around all day. He would hover nearby you, drifting in and out of whatever room you were in, watching you like a curious cat. If you acknowledged his existence in any manner, like with a question about his day, he’d visibly brighten and start chattering. He’d sit on the couch with you. Listen while you rambled about work, family, friends, anything... making snide remarks and staring with those bright yellow eyelights.

He was more akin to a helpful, close friend/roommate than anything else. You’d grown to kinda just accept that Error was part of your life now.

... He was very easy to accept.

///---///

Error let a slow breath escape him. His temper had been, only moments earlier, absolutely foul. Foul enough that the multiverse would’ve done well to fear him.

... You had no idea that before you arrived, he’d been seething on your couch, glitches overtaking his vision- literally blinding him with anger. Twitching, burning, infuriated by his difficulty with simple tasks while angry. It had been an awful few days, so awful not even the TV could distract him.

... Then he’d heard your front door open. He heard you sigh to yourself, shake off your raincoat, kick off your shoes.

... His vision had cleared. His Soul had thumped. Finally- the only thing that could distract him.

Your home was the only place where he felt warm. It felt like the only place he could come back to, that welcomed him, with familiar smells and sounds and trinkets that brought him back to reality. Even better when you were physically in the space with him, like you were now, nestled beside him on the couch. Unlike the anti void, a vast expanse of white nothingness where he had only himself to talk to, he liked how your home was full of things that had meaning to you. Your Soul’s energy had soaked into every item in the home- as had your scent.

... He glanced at you, then back to the TV again. Did you know you were the only creature in the multiverse he wanted closer?

(He had one of your shirts, in the anti void. You didn’t know. He figured he probably should return it soon... but it kept him company, when he couldn’t directly be with you.)

It was odd. You calling him a weirdo had made him feel so calm- affirmation that you still didn’t know what he’d done, that you still liked him. Still wanted him in your home. He sometimes asked himself what he, the destroyer of universes, was doing hanging around in a tiny backwater AU with a nobody human... but like most things in his life, he found that if he asked too many questions, the pain in his head became too intense. 

At the end of the day, you being close to him and talking to him made him feel good. That was all he needed to know.

Even just watching you had calmed him down; back before he realised you were happy to let him in.

You had settled in, your breathing was slower. Someone, relaxed around him... it felt good. Though he desperately wanted to stare at you, and talk to you, he also didn’t want to seem clingy. He tried to act like he didn’t care, pretending he was watching the Italian cooking show.

...

He didn’t manage long.

“there are aus with m-m-much better looking-g-g mediterraneans than that.” He said, yellow mouth pulled into a sneer.

... You gave him a customary ‘mhm’. 

You had no clue what an AU was. But you humoured him; he liked that. You didn’t really know what most of the things he talked about were, you’d just give him some nods and hums, maybe you’d tease him. You probably just thought he was nuts.

He finally glanced over at you. You were leaning on the side of the couch... something in hand.

...

He felt his Soul skip.

“a-a-are you crocheting?”

... 

... You looked up at him, you seemed surprised to hear him comment on what you were doing. Your eyes on him made his magic all but purr. He was looking at your ‘project’- a few terrible tangled messes, a ball of brown yarn, and a crochet hook pinched between your thumb and forefinger.

(You were in pyjamas. He liked when you were in pyjamas... he liked when you were comfortable. Comfortable around him.)

“... Oh. Uh... well, I’m trying to crochet.” Your voice soothed his glitches. Everything about you was a balm to his angry, spiteful, troubled Soul. “I’ve only just started. I can’t really work it out.”

He tilted his skull. “what are you-u maki-i-ing?”

Were your cheeks getting pinker? “... Nothing in particular, maybe a scarf? I just wanted to get into crocheting.”

He stared. “what don’t y-y-you understand?”

“Making the knot at the beginning. I dunno where to put everything.” Your brow furrowed. “You know how to crochet?”

“of course.” He said, sitting up. The TV was now purely background noise. “why do you seem surp-p-prised?”

You gave him a look, and a teasing smile that made him feel fidgety and hot. 

“... You’re so right. How could I have been so blind. You scream ‘guy who likes to crochet’.”

Error shifted. “how can you not know how to make a slipknot? they’re easy. there’s a lot of method-d-ds.”

“There are? Course you'd know, grandma.”

“maybe try a pret-t-zel method.” He pointed to your yarn, sitting forward even further. “make a pretzel sh-shape with the yarn. then catch the inside loop.”

You made a loop over your finger.

... Then kinda just paused, unsure.

“n-n-no, a pretzel.” He narrowed his sockets. “don’t you kn-kn-know how to make a p-p-pretzel?”

“No.” You said, honestly. Then you glared at him. “But also, you’re shit at explaining.”

He loved when you sassed him. He leaned in. “maybe the cross method is easier for your t-t-tiny human brain. loop the thread twice ov-v-ver your fingers so it’s an x shape. then tuck the loose end under the x and catch that. eas-s-sy.”

... You looped the yarn over your finger twice.

...

“But like. Where do I tuck the end of it?” You said.

“under the x. you... ugh.” He grunted. “c’mere. gimme the-the-the end of the thread.”

...

You flushed. But you shuffled, sitting up, passing him the yarn.

Error leant over- he took your hands in his.

...

He took your hands. In his.

He froze, for a split second. Your hands were in his. He stared down at them; tiny, soft, warm, shrouded in his blackened bones. He had expected contact with you to feel like lightning, but it didn't, your hands were just... nice. Everything he’d dreamed of. 

... 'fuck' was the only thought running through his head. Repeating over and over. He didn’t mean to take your hands, he didn't realise what he was doing until he’d already done it- he was just so accustomed to instinctively hating the idea of touching anyone, he had no idea how to stop himself from doing it when the urge overcame him. He was just so comfortable with you, so warm- he hadn’t thought twice. In that moment, the thought to recoil from you hadn’t even occurred to him.  

He hadn’t thought twice about touching you. 

... It wasn’t until this very moment, your hands warming his bones, that he realised he was indulging an urge he’d had since the moment he first saw you.

...

Error couldn’t allow himself to acknowledge how deeply he’d been taken off guard. And equally, he couldn’t allow you to see it. So he forced himself to continue.

He didn’t want to let go of your hands.

“it-t-t’s a basic slipknot. i don’t get where you’re conf-fused.” He said, defaulting to insults, as he did when he felt any kind of gentle emotion. He hoped his glitches would hide the nervous stutter.

He moved your fingers in his claws, precisely, holding up the end of the yarn. Your hands felt tiny in his.

“do it lik-k-ke this. you want the end to be about this long. not too sh-short.” With the eye of someone who had done it a thousand times, he looped it over your first two fingers. “make an x, over your fingers, like that-t. you see? then you tuck the tail under here. but not-t-t all the way through.”

... 

... His eyelights moved from the thread, to your face. He caught you looking at him. He was very close, his mouth only a few inches from your face. Close enough to literally feel the warmth coming off you. 

... Just like that, he found it was difficult to swallow. 

You flinched, seemingly flustered at getting caught staring- you forced yourself to look back down at the crochet hooks. You bit your lip, apparently in embarrassment.

Your mouth.

...

It took him a few long, difficult moments to draw his eyelights away from your soft, soft lips. 

“... pinch the tail so you dont lose it.” His claws continuously brushed yours as he circled the thread over your own fingers. He took your left hand. “put your other finger through the loop. like... that. then slide the hook through and catch it. there you go, a slipknot.”

... He could hear your heartbeat. It was faster.

“make sure not to tighten it too much. the knot doesn’t count as a stitch. if you were knitting, it would count. but it doesn’t count in cr-crocheting.”

...

He felt like he’d reached the end of his list of excuses to keep holding your hands.

... He let go. And... he sat back against the couch, refusing to look at you, worried about what he might do if he did. He could feel the energy in his cheekbones, they were probably bright blue. 

His hands balled in his lap.

...

“Thanks.” You said, gently. Genuinely.

...

Error didn’t know how to process what he was currently feeling. He wasn't sure if he'd ever know how. So he just kept his sockets glued to the TV.

“... s-s-sure." He said. "whatever.”

[ghosts-and-glory]

Master post / bio n whatnot It’s kinda a wip for now.

Call me Malachi

They/Them/He | Aromantic & Queer | 21 | Canadian

My Carrd

The Disease Machine Master Post

Bottlenecked Master Post

COTL No Devotion AU Master Post

I do art and writing. Mostly for comics and animation about sci-fi and horror. I have crazy pipe dreams.

Commissions: Soft open. My commission page and prices are a wip, dm if interested.

Dms and asks are open. Please send me asks I love them <3

PROSHIP AND TCEST DNI. I will block you, I will not debate on this.

I’m the art director on the fan made rise project, feel free to ask me questions. Just keep in mind I’m one person on a big team and this is my blog not the project’s.

FAQ AND MY OTHER SOCIALS ARE UNDER THE CUT

Follow my other accounts

@demons-and-diatribe

On other socials

Instagram main: ghosts_and_glory

Instagram side: demons_and_diatribe

TikTok: ghosts_and_glory

AO3: ghosts_and_glory

I do horror. This includes surrealism, unreality and gore. I believe that a main pillar of good horror is consent, I try and tag and hide anything that may be upsetting, please let me know if something accidentally gets through.

I have ocd. This means I never post cognito hazards like reblog for good/bad luck, even if the original is a joke. At worst I may mention one in reference to media but it will be tagged.

I don't interact with people under 16. I may reblog or leave comments but I won't take dms or any other remotely long term communication. This is for both of our safety.

FAQ

What programs do you use?

Usually Photoshop. I animate in Adobe animate and 3D models are done in blendr. I draw on a Wacom Cintiq 22” her name is Gertrude after Gertrude Robinson. I edit video with Capcut and audio with Audition.

Can I use your art for a wallpaper or pfp?

Yes, I ask you don't remove my watermark or claim it as your own.

Can I repost your art?

God please no. A, even with credit, it creates a barrier between myself and my art and B I don't want people to be confused on what is my own post or account. The only acceptation is transformative works like edits or comic dubs. But I ask again, don't remove my watermark, provide credit and only use fanart, not my ocs or work I did for others.

How long have you been on Tumblr?

Since like 2016? 2017? Idk a while. I use it like a idiot and like never posted or reblogged anything so that’s why my account is kinda empty. I go through phases of like scrolling it everyday and not touching it for months. I’m bad at social media.

How long have you been drawing for?

Got into it when I was 12 in 2016. Before that I was more into writing and I only started drawing because I wanted to draw my characters.

What is the best way to contact you?

Discord. I check my dms there most often. Other than that Instagram also works, I might ignore you on Tumblr on accident because my inbox is a mess.

Can I join the Rise Project?

For now we don’t have any team openings but you can join our discord. That’s the best place to get up to date news.

[bubblyernie]

Riskbreaker's Gambit!! Excited to share this, it's one of the coolest projects I've worked on :3

I had the opportunity to do the cover (above!) and character+monster art for an upcoming SRPG game, which you can find out more about here! Easily a job I can say was my dream gig! Go check out the art and the mechanics :D

art tag // commission info

[heaven-is-in-your-arms-series]

Adorable chibi Khem and Chatra

I commissioned them from the talented @apoluvre and they are so cute 💖

Heaven Is In Your Arms

Part 1 - A Phantom and A Dream

Khem struggles with tricky choreography, Chatra attempts to be encouraging but he needs some practice at it.

A cat is judgemental.

A self indulgent reflection on the frustration of dance practice and the questionable actions of epic heroes. Inspired by a short trailer, my own love of traditional dance and pure vibes.

Part 2 - Unraveling In Your Arms

Khem needs a hand getting out of his elaborate dance costume. Chatra Volunteers to help 🌶️

The minute I saw a dancer being sewn into their costume, I knew I needed Chatra to sensually unstitch Khem 😌

Part 3 - When The Nightingale Sings

Man Suang is a place where dreams come true but its fabled enchantments mask sinister activities and darker delights.

In a place where love can be traded freely, bought or sold, loyalties are hard won and today's friend could be tomorrow's enemy.

Khem and Chatra are drawn to each other but can their blossoming romance survive the cut throat world they live in and the responsibilities placed on them by others that lead to dangerous secrets between them?

Beautiful art by @chatoyen 💛

Lovely gift from a reader 😊

*almost this entire story was written before I was able to watch the film so consider this an au of sorts and if you haven't already seen it, go watch ManSuang on netflix because it's beautiful 💖*

[caesariawritesstuff]

♡ CaesariaWrites ♡

● Ao3 ● X ● Retrospring ●

Hi! I'm Caesaria. I write for the Riddler and other Gotham Rogues, but you'll find 95% of my content is Riddler orientated. My current focus is on my long-fic, Cat & Mouse.

♡ I'm a 30-year-old cis female living in the Midwest.

♡ When not writing fanfic, my focus is on my original fiction, as I have big dreams of becoming a published author one day.

♡ I was diagnosed with Anxiety, Depression, and OCD.

♡ Fun fact about me: I'm blind in one eye.

♡ I'm pretty active on here, so my ask box is always open for requests, to chat, or just send me whatever you want.

♡ My Ask Box is OPEN

♡ Current No. of Requests: 8

♡ I write primarily for the Riddler (Arkham, Telltale, Gotham, Zero Year, BTAS), but I will write for the other Gotham Rogues, particularly for Scarecrow, Mad Hatter, Penguin, and Two-Face.

♡ My preference is smut, angst, and other dark-themed fics, but I don't mind fluff, either.

♡ My main focus is my long-fic, Cat & Mouse, a Riddler x Reader story about a reformed Riddler coming to work for the GCPD three years after Arkham Knight.

♡ Anything to do with minors

♡ The Reader being of another species (vampire, werewolf, alien, etc...unless I have a very specific idea).

♡ Anything to do with scat, vomit, or piss. Just not my thing!

♡ Bestiality

♡ Major character death

♡ Sexual assault/rape. I don't mind writing something where a character comes to the other's rescue, but I won't write about an actual rape/assault taking place.

♡ Anything in general that makes me uncomfortable is. Sometimes I don't realize what that is until I get a certain ask!

♡ At the moment, I'm primarily taking requests for anything to do with my long-fic, Cat & Mouse (involving my Cat&Mouse!Verse).

♡ Requests for anything else will be considered, but please keep in mind that they are not my top priority at the moment.

♡ Because Cat & Mouse and my original fiction are my focus, requests do come in last on my priority list. Sometimes this means it can take me weeks, if not months, to respond to an ask. I apologize if you have to wait so long, but just keep this in mind, as I do also have a life outside of writing and Tumblr.

♡ When requesting from a specific prompt, please be specific in as to which one so I can make sure I'm doing the right one!

♡ I write for the Riddler, Scarecrow, Mad Hatter, Penguin, Two-Face, and occasionally Harley Quinn, if a request interests me.

♡ Anyone outside of this list I do not write for. Mainly because I either don't know enough about the character or just don't feel comfortable in my ability to write them (such as Bane, for example).

♡ Please be specific in the type of request you'd like to see. It really helps me write the best content I can!

♡ My preference is Female or GN centered fics, though I will write from the male perspective as well. I do not write f/f or m/m fics, since I'm straight, so it's just not something I have experience with.

♡ If your request is similar to something I've written before, I may redirect you to that fic instead.

♡ I reserve the right to refuse any request that comes in that I'm not comfortable with answering. Please don't take it personally!

♡ I reserve the right to cross post any request over to my Ao3.

♡ Here's a masterlist for all of my fics.

General Masterlist Cat & Mouse Masterlist

♡ Cat & Mouse is my long-fic, and really, my passion project.

♡ You'll find I talk quite a lot about Cat & Mouse on my blog. I like to post snippets, chapter updates, and write non-canon stories, headcanons, and "what if" stories in my Cat&Mouse!Verse.

♡ For an extensive playlist of all the songs that inspire me while I write Cat & Mouse, you can check them out here!

♡ You can check out the cat&mouse!verse tag for all things Cat & Mouse related.

♡ To see all the incredible fan art I've received for Cat & Mouse, you can check it out here!

Comic Panel from Chapter 20

Reformed Scarecrow Art

Commission #1

Commission #2

Commission #3

Commission #4

Art Collection

Stim Board

♡ A masterlist of general prompts you can request from.

Put that Guy in a Situation

Build a Fic

The Look of Love

Best Friends to Lovers

Jealousy No. 1

Jealousy No. 2

Jealousy No. 3

Jealousy No. 4

Idiots Who are in Love

Random Various Prompts

"I Want You"

Date Gone Wrong

Hopelessly In Love

Longing for Someone

Injury

Nightmare

Angry Confessions

"I Want You" No. 2

♡ A masterlist of smut prompts for you to request from.

Smut Prompts No. 1

Smut Prompts No. 2

Smut Prompts No. 3

Smut Prompt No. 4

Smut Phrases

Dirty Text Prompts

Discreet Sexual Tension

Smut Prompts No. 1

Smut Prompts No. 2

Smut Prompts No. 3

Smut Prompt No. 4

Smut Phrases

Dirty Text Prompts

Discreet Sexual Tension

♡ I'm OPEN to Stim Board requests!

♡ When requesting a Stim Board, please go through my Ask Box.

♡ For Stim Boards, I do ask that you be specific in what you're looking for. Please include things such as color scheme, general vibe, character(s). If there are any particular images you'd like me to use, please include them in your ask.

♡ Check out an example of my stim boards here, here, and here!

My Ask Box is currently OPEN for my 50 Follower Celebration Event. Please read the rules before submitting an ask!

*Header by the amazing @finzphoenix