#also trying to not be too precious and sketch around

[snejkha]

Trying to draw my own ocs (and adopts I got/) more so heres Chie and Aether, they are gfs ofc hh :2c

[cheapshrimpysheep]

Dating in a Dream - Jade Leech

SUMMARY: What would his dream be like, exactly the same as in the original story, but with the small detail that he is dreaming that you two are dating?

CHARACTERS: Jade Leech x Reader🐬🦐

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader; In a Relationship (kinda); Kiss; Flirting

WARNING: Spoilers from Book 7 and Jade’s dream (Eng Server)

WORD COUNT: 3.390 words

COMMENTS: This was written as a companion piece to the original dream story, so the parts that are the same as the game are just summarized.

I hope you enjoy🐬

Dating in a Dream: Idia / Epel / Rook / Vil / Kalim / Jamil / Floyd / (Jade) / Azul / Jack / Ruggie / ...

“Aether signal tracking successful.” Ortho announces. “We have arrived at the designated coordinates.”

You, Grim, Silver, Sebek, Ortho, Jamil, and Floyd already appeared in the dream underwater and your aerospheres were working well by all indications. After a little chitchat about Silver's signature spell, Sebek and Floyd hear something, and then everything starts to shake like an earthquake.

“Surrounding water temperature rising sharply.” Ortho warns. “Immediate evacuation recommended!”

Floyd shapeshifts into his mer form and takes everyone away from that place quickly. You managed to came out unharmed from an submarine volcano eruption thanks to him.

After talking about how dangerous submarine volcanoes are, not only because of the temperature but also because of the toxic gases, you all decide to go look for Jade. Floyd asked if Idia couldn't give you all a mer-form too, but Idia explained that he didn't have data to do it and that, unlike him, you had no experience in swimming with mer-folk tails. Floyd understands because it took him a while to learn to walk on two legs so he assumed it would be something similar.

But before you set off in search of Jade, Floyd changes his appearance a bit and starts to glow in the dark. He says it's called counter-illumination and explains how it actually works as camouflage in deep, dark places like that.

You searched a lot without success and with your vision and smell limited by the gases. Until Ortho detects an aether signal 20 meters ahead.

“Look at this hydrothermal vent! Though it's spewing hot water nonstop, you can see it's actually home to a colony of shellfish if you look closely!” Jade says smiling. “How do they survive in a place like this? I'd be boiled alive in an instant.”

“If I might remind you, Jade, we're not searching for shellfish worth less than a sorcent.” Azul says. “We're looking for precious metals that settle in hydrothermal deposits.”

“I'm aware, Azul.” You see the dreamer's silver bird around Jade's head. “But it's still nice to take a moment to enjoy the mountain scenery.”

“Yup, that's Jade and Azul, all right.” Floyd confirms.

Azul talks about them looking for very valuable gold and him wanting to become a leading figure in the mining industry. And Jade seems to be enjoying following him.

Jamil says he thinks that Azul is just like the real one, but Idia and Floyd, who know him better, say there's something strange about him. Floyd even says he doubts that Azul would voluntarily go near a volcano.

The fake Azul sees something shining in a vent, he pluged up the vent for a moment with ice magic to then try to scoop up the gold while the flow's stopped. He puts his hand inside and reach for the shiny thing hoping it's gold, but the water redirected and erupt from another vent, right at him, which made Jade start laughing. The fake Azul didn't seem to mind having his arm a bit boiled to get the gold.

And suddenly, both the way Azul spoke and his facial features changed.

“So, uh...” Idia says through tablet. “Am I the only guy thinking Azul's acting like a sketch comedy actor here?”

Floyd and Idia (and maybe you too) are the only ones who really notice the differences between that exaggerated version of Azul and the real one.

Ortho mentions that there is an NPC version of Azul, but he is not seeing any NPC version of Floyd anywhere.

“Ah! Right near where Azul found the gold dust...” Jade says. “There's a school of small shrimp living in a rock fissure that's venting hot water! Floyd! Come over here and have a look.”

The NPC version of Floyd appears, but with facial features way oversimplified.

“It's like Floyd would be if he were drawn in an absurdist comedy manga...” Idia comments.

“Look at these tiny shrimp, living in such a harsh environment.” Jade continues telling NPC Floyd.

“Ooh you're right! They look delish! Eheheh!” NPC Floyd says in a more childish voice than normal. “Ahaha, lookit how cute and teeny they are! I could eat 'em right up!”

“My, my. What a bold gourmand you are, Floyd.” Jade comments with a mocking smile.

The fake Floyd grebes the shrimp and eats them. Idia comments that that Floyd is scary in a whole different way from the real one, and Floyd says that he's nothing like that, that Jade is the one who eats random stuff he finds on the ground in the mountains, not him.

“Heh heh heh. What fun Azul and Floyd are having.” Jade says amusedly. “I just love the mountains.”

“KYAAA! Poor little shrimps!” An abnormally cute voice says. “Floyd is so scary!”

A new NPC appears: You! Or rather, you in mer-form with a tail like a shrimp's, and you see your NPC quickly swimming up to Jade to hug his arm like a scared child.

“Don't let him bite me, Jade~” Your NPC begs cutely with a tear in the corner of their eye. And your face was also different from your real face, the eyes seemed bigger and brighter, but in a way that was almost pitiful.

“Fu fu fu. Worry not, my dear. You're the only little shrimp I would never let him nibble on.” Jade says, as he intertwines his tail with your NPC's.

“T-That (Y/N)...” Idia says. “C-could it be...?”

“Jade~” Your NPC continues to say, without letting go of Jade's arm and happy that he intertwined their tails. “You'll always protect me, won't you?”

“Of course, my love. You can always depend on me for whatever you need.”

“You make me so happy, Jade! I love you so much!” Your NPC smiles like a ray of sunshine.

“I love you too, my dear.” Jade responds with a cute smile and kiss your NPC's forehead.

But your NPC doesn't seem pleased and tilts their head a certain way. Jade chuckles and kisses their cheek affectionately, which makes your NPC finally smile in satisfaction.

“AH! IT IS! IT IS!” Idea continues suddenly.

“What? What is it?” Silver asks.

“(Y/N)'s NPC in Jade's dream is... is... A CLINGY, DEPENDENT DEREDERE!!!”

“Hm... Sorry, but what is a dere..dere?” Silver asks.

“An openly love-struck character who is continuously sweet, flirtatious and affectionate towards their love interest.” Ortho clarifies. “And it seems that (Y/N) and Jade Leech are each other's romantic interests in this dream.”

Everyone is surprised to find out that Jade has a crush on you. As for Floyd, he simply has no reaction.

“I assume you already knew, Floyd Leech.” Ortho says.

“Kinda. I mean, I wasn't sure, but I think it explains some things.”

“Like what?”

“Huh... Ortho, maybe we'll leave that to them.” Idia suggests and the subject returns to observing Jade and the NPCs.

“I was worried about what to do after climbing every single mountain on land...” Jade says. “But the ocean's far vaster, with a great many unexplored submarine volcanoes.”

“I'll never give up before I strike gold!” NPC Azul says.

“Ooh, ooh, Jade! These crabs are pretty tasty, too! Eheheh!” NPC Floyd says.

“Aw, these corals are so beautiful. Jade~, can we pick them? Pretty please~” Your NPC says.

“Heheheh. I'm delighted you're all enjoying yourselves.” Jade smiles. “May the four of us overcome every obstacle and conquer every mountain!”

“Hip hip, hooray!” Jade and the NPCs celebrate together.

“AAAUGH, I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE!” Floyd shouts and charges them right in!

Sebek asks if you should join him, but Jamil says that you are at a disadvantage underwater and it could be dangerous for you all, so it's best to wait for a better opportunity.

“Hey... Jade.” The real Floyd confronts him. “Knock it off with this creepy dream. You're givin' me scale-bumps from gills to tail!”

“Huh? There are two Floyds?”

“Why, it's a perfect mirror image!” NPC Azul claims.

“How'm I a perfect mirror image of THAT? We don't look nothin' alike.” The real Floyd says.

“Who's this guy? It cool if I squeeze 'em and eat 'em? Ahaha!” The fake Floyd says.

“I knew you never paid much attention to other people, but I ain't buyin' this is the best your memory can dredge up.” The real Floyd returns to the subject. “There's no way I'd act all gleeful gobblin' up live shrimp wedged under rocks!”

“Floyd...?” Jade's dream world begins to distort. “You don't eat live shrimp...?”

“Don't let him fool you, Jade!” Fake Azul intervenes. “Look closer. Floyd isn't some menacing-looking gangster. He's more simpleminded and charming than that. Look at this endearing smile!”

“Hey, Jade? I'm bored.” Fake Floyd says. “Wanna ditch this guy and go eat crab somewhere else? Ahaha!”

“Yes... Right.” Jade agrees. “Floyd's always been the endearing type. Our relatives loved doting on him. This has to be the real Floyd.”

“Really, now. How could you ever mix up who your one brother is? Are you getting fatigued? Given your exhaustive knowledge of the mountains, you're essential for my gold search. Please, pull yourself together.”

“Heheheh... Of course. You, Floyd and (Y/N) would be helpless without me.”

The goopy darkness surrounds you and the figures of Azul, Floyd and you become dark silhouettes.

“Come, Jade, let's ignore them and move on.” Darkness Azul says.

“C'mon already, Jade!” Darkness Floyd adds.

“Please, come with me, my love.” Your darkness figure seduces him.

“Yes... Of... course...”

“Oh, is that how it's gonna be?” The real Floyd says. “In that case, you can keep pallin' around with your ‘real’ brother in dreamland. I don't want a brother like that anyway. I'mma knock ALLA you into the volcano!”

The real Floyd attacks all three NPCs including yours, and all three beg Jade for help.

“How dare you hurt them.” Jade defends them. “You will pay dearly for this, impostor. HAAAH!” and he attacks the real Floyd.

“I keep tryin' to tell you, I'M the real one!”

Floyd asks Idia if a good shock to the system wasn't supposed to wake someone up, but Idia realizes that in that case the pattern is different. In this case, Jade had extraordinarily high belief in himself to the point to refusing to budge in his opinion no matter what counterpoints others make.

You all wonder how you're supposed to wake Jade up, but Floyd suggests that you let him sleep forever since he liked that dream so much. He turns back to Jade.

“I'll cut you into chum so you never wake up again, Jade! GYAHAHAHAHAHA!”

“All of you, get back! I'll handle this!”

“Please, be careful, Jade~!” Your NPC tells him.

“He will pay for even daring to touch you, (Y/N).” Jade tells them before attacking Floyd. “*screech!*”

The Leech twins began to fight, attacking each other violently with their sharp nails and teeth, and their fight ends up whipping the water into a whirlpool.

“Their roughhousing is destroying the fragile vents and sending hot water spewing out all over the place.” Jamil says.

All of you take shelter behind a boulder. Even the darkness NPCs are scared and hiding behind rocks. However, the boulder you were holding onto breaks and you are pulled into the whirlpool.

“(Y/N)!” Everyone shouts.

You scream and both Floyd and Jade hear you, making them pause the fight.

“(Y/N)?” Jade looks back, but his vision was limited by all the sand and smoke.

Your aerosphere bursts because it can't resist the heat and gases. Amidst the sand and smoke, Jade sees your silhouette with legs instead of a merfolk tail.

“(Y/N)!!!”

Jade abandons the fight with Floyd completely and rushes towards you. He gets you and sees you holding your breath.

“Did you not take your last dose of the potion? Doesn't matter! I have to get you out of here NOW!”

Jade quickly takes you away from the heat and toxic gases and consequently away from everyone else too. When he thought you were in a safe place, he used his magic to create a bubble around your head. You take a deep breath.

“(Y/N), are you all right?” He asks you calmly with his arms around you in a protective and loving way. “What happened?”

This is your chance to tell him the truth and try to wake him up.

“Jade, listen to me.” You cup his face with your hands. “Would the Azul you know really risk so much for a measly bit of gold?”

“What?” He is surprised that you seemingly completely change the subject.

“And Floyd, your own brother.” You continue. “Between the one who depends on you and the one who attacked you tooth and nail, do you really believe that your twin is the docile idiot one?”

“Floyd...? He... Hrk!”

The world distorts again and Jade's head starts to hurt, but he doesn't let go of you.

“JAAADEEE!” You hear a voice approaching, and then you see... you in mer-form arriving and clinging to Jade's arm. “Jade! What are you doing?” Your NPC whines. “That's not me! I'm right here.”

Jade looks between you and your NPC, confused.

“Is this how you see me?” You say. “Like a helpless and dependent weakling?”

“Wha- Why are they so mean?” Your NPC whines again. “Jade, darling, please leave this impostor and come back with me, my love. I need you so much.”

“You are a kind person.” Jade tells your NPC. “And your lack of magic makes you more vulnerable than me. But you are not that hopeless.” He looks at them with that rare serious face, a bad sign for them.

“WHAT?”

“If you were, you would never have been able to defeat us and Azul that midterms... Urgh!” The world distorts again. “Midterms... At Night Raven College... on land... Augh, I have a splitting headache! Urgh, augh...!”

Jade remembers what you're really like, what Azul and Floyd are really like too, and what you've all been through in Night Raven College. And the dream breaks.

“Jade! Are you all right?!” NPC Azul says, arriving with NPC Floyd. “Oh, thank goodness you're alive! I was afraid I lost my precious subordinate!”

“Your... precious subordinate?” Jade repeats, surprised.

“If we lost you, I'd cry, Jade.” NPC Floyd says. “Don't go anywhere again, 'kay?”

“...Don't go anywhere?... Indeed... The Azul and Floyd I know would never say such things. How could I have forgotten something so important?” He releases you and makes your NPC release him too. “Floyd is never so docile. He's far more unruly. And Azul would never willingly expose himself to danger. He's send someone else to do it instead. More to the point - neither of them would merrily tag along on my mountain expeditions. What was I thinking?”

“Jade! You would believe this imposter over us?!” NPC Azul inquires.

“Unfair! You said I was the real one, Jade!” NPC Floyd complains.

“I implore you to reconsider!”

The fake Azul and Floyd each grab one of Jade's arms.

“Could you please not touch me? It's sickening.”

Jade attacks both of them without mercy and the two turn into darkness figures and disappear in the goop. Jade looks seriously at your mer-form version.

“And you...”

“ME? Jade, my love” Your NPC begs in tears. “Please, stay with me. *sniff* You are my everything.”

“Do me a favor, dear, and shut your mouth. Your despair disgusts me.” And he attacks the fake version of you as ruthlessly as he attacked the false Azul and Floyd.

“But... my... love...” Were the last words of your NPC, before also turning into darkness and disappearing.

Jade looks at you and his expression softens.

“You... you are the real (Y/N), aren’t you?”

“After seeing what you did to the others, do you really think that I would deny it even if I wasn't?”

“He he he. Sounds like you, at least.”

“Heeey, Jade.” The real Floyd approaches you two. “You finally awake?”

“Yes, thanks to (Y/N) and you.”

The two laugh a little before attacking each other again. But this time, as brothers would do in a fight at home. The others finally catch up to you too.

“(Y/N)!” Grim goes straight to you to hug you. “You need to get stronger!” He complains with a few small tears in his eyes. It even reminded you of when he finally rejoined you in STYX.

Idia takes the opportunity to restore your aerosphere.

“Ah, everyone,” Jade says to your group, after another exchange of punches and words with Floyd. “What an embarrassing brotherly squabble you've witnessed. I'm terribly sorry you had to see that.”

“Dude, that wasn't a 'squabble.'” Idia says through the tablet. “That was a full-blown super kaiju brothers brawl.”

“Um... Anyway, I'm glad Jade's awake and the two of them mended bridges.” Silver says.

“You call that mending bridges...?” Jamil questions.

“Heh heh. Yes, we've made up.” Jade smiles reassuringly. “My apologies for giving you cause for concern.”

“Tch. Speak for yourself. I ain't satisfied yet, but we're not gonna get anywhere arguin' about it in a dream, se whatevs.”

“A dream? Floyd, what do you mean by that?”

“Mind if I field this one?” Ortho asks. “I've got an explainer video here that will help...”

“I see... What a fascinating tale.” Jade says. “So the false Azul, Floyd and (Y/N) were there to keep me anchored in the dream. Neither Azul or Floyd have ever shown any interest in my hobbies, and yet they joined me to trek through a multitude of mountains... And (Y/N)...” He looks at you and then back at the rest of the group. “Excuse me, could you give us a moment alone, please?”

The others look at you to see if you also want to have that moment alone with Jade and when they see your confirmation they let Jade take you by the hand a little further away.

“If my brother felt the way he did when he saw the Floyd from my dream,” Jade smiles kind of awkwardly. “I can only imagine how you must have felt when you saw your version.”

“So... is it true that that means you like me?” You ask.

“Well, thinking how pleasurable my dream with you was... It seems like I cannot deny my fondness for you anymore.”

“Anymore?”

“Oh, don't mind that part.” He smiles with his hands clasped in front of him. “I can only hope you weren't too uncomfortable with what you witnessed. My deepest apologies.”

You remember the dependent, loving fool you saw.

“Do you really like me, or that version of me?”

“You saw the Azul and Floyd versions. Do you really think I preferred those two poor unfortunate souls to the real ambitious and unpredictable ones? Oh my, you don't believe that my tastes are that... rudimentary, do you?”

In fact, you had already seen several dreams, and Malleus’ spell does not always fit with what the dreamer true wishes. Floyd's own dream, for example.

Well, you finding out, against his will, that he likes you, maybe it would be a good opportunity for you to admit that you like him too.

“Oh...” Jade's smile turns from his polite one to a smirk. “Truly...?” He still had his counter-illumination active, so him getting closer to you with that bright eye in the middle of the darkness gave you a nice, different type of chill. “You know,” He swims around you, “I agree with my brother that happy endings are often quite dull.” to stop in front of you again, but now with his tail blocking any escape you could make. “But in this case.” He tilts your head with his fingers on your chin. “Something tells me this relationship would be more... interesting... after these confessions.” He brings his face closer to yours and consequently his lips closer to yours as well. “I wonder what it would be like if we both stopped holding back.” He whispers with your noses touching slightly. “What do you say?”

He's not going to kiss you, he's teasing you to do it. And if you do kiss his lips, you'll feel his tail wrap around your legs, his arms go around your back, and you will feel him deepening the kiss before suddenly breaking it.

“Don't get me wrong, my dear.” He whispers to you. “But unfortunately, we have people waiting for us and I wouldn't like to be interrupted by third parties. Which is a shame,” He brings his lips close to your ear. “You are a delightful taste.”

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

[sparrows4bats]

So I need to talk about Damian and Wonder Woman. Also, the acrobat on tiktok inspired this a bit.

Damian adores her, and the feeling is 100 per cent mutual.

Like when they interact in the comics it's so funny and oftentimes so heartfelt.

Diana is the daughter of a God and a queen burdened by legacy and truths hidden from her. She is a complex character who tries to live up to the expectations of those she was raised to lead while also trying to protect the innocents of a culture that sometimes despises her.

She looks at Damian Al Ghul Wayne and sees a mirror. Sees the rage, the doubt and need to prove yourself. All things she feels and wishes she did not. The little Robin is so young to be this troubled.

So she tries her best to help. The boy, while quite verbose in his barbs, is respectful to those who have earned it, loyal and unendingly kind. (He was raised by Talia, Damian Wayne, respects women!!)

Diana spars with the little warrior, and they bond over their shared love of swords. He is quite feirce and after he compliments her own skills they start teaching eachother different fighting styles from their homelands.

Damian shows her his art after she catches him sketching, Diana, who has worked as a curator for years, is suitably impressed with his talent and gives him feedback. Damian later gives her a sketch of herself in the heat of battle. She smiles and has this precious treasure framed.

When Damian trusts her a little more, he introduces her to his pets, and she falls in love with the small zoo that Damian has befriended. She especially loves Goliath, but Damian gets a haunted look in his eyes when he explains how he met the dragon bat. Diana just hugs him. There's nothing she can say that the young warrior doesn't already know. (Damian names one of Batcows progeny Wondercow in her honour, and Diana can't think of a better tribute!)

They grow closer after that, She and Damian have tea when they have time and Damian tells her about how Clarks son left and came back a man he didn't recognise anymore. Diana thinks of her own immortality and advises him to stay with Jon, that he will need his friendship now more than ever. Damian takes her advice seriously.

He endeavours to be a better friend to her as well after that, too.

When she has Lizzie, her beautiful daughter, there's no one she trusts more with her than Damian, whom she watched grow up to be a man with more honour than almost any she's ever known. (If Jon joins him, she just enjoys Damians' reaction to the new Superman.)

When Lizzie comes home excited about her adventures and calling Damian big brother all Diana can feel is warm. (She trusts Damian to protect her, she helped train him. She is less enthused about the swear words Lizzie now innocently repeats.)

When Damian decides to become a healer. Finally leading his own path, despite his Fathers protests. Diana is nothing but supportive. She takes Damian into her home while he goes to med school, Lizzie is over the moon to live with her brother from now on.

Diana takes Bruce aside and beats sense into his emotionally constipated skull, but doesn't send Damian home for a while. It's too much fun to have the Dragons and her little warrior around the house.

When Damian becomes a doctor, he handles a lot of the other heros health care, and Diana grants him permission to study in Themyscara so he can provide proper care to the amazons that live in man's world. The other amazons are wary and cold but slowly warm to the young doctor that fights with the fury of Ares chosen to protect his patients. Like any good Amazonian healer.

When Lizzie tells her about walking in on Jon kissing Damian, both Mother and Daughter have a good time threatening the Super to ensure his continued respect for their favourite man. (She does think they are very cute together.)

Batman and Superman are upset that Diana knew about their sons dating before they did.

[scoutswritingcorner]

Can I request Hazbin Hotel characters reacting to an artist!reader that draws a lot but never shows anyone their work but one day accidentally left it out and their partner finds it and sees several sketches and finished drawings of them? Sorry if it’s an odd ask, I’m an artist and I thought it would be a cute idea I don’t see nearly enough, it’s okay if you can’t. Thank you either way!!!

Artist Rendition

Hazbin Gang x GN!Reader

TW:A little flirty with Angel’s reaction. Other than that none!

A/N: Not an odd request at all, Friend! For Angel’s part I did write for a male Reader and Fem Reader for Vaggie! KINDA SHORT I APOLOGIZE FRIEND!

-🦌Alastor🦌-

-🦌 Alastor was very curious to see you carry a sketchbook around all the time. He wanted to pry so badly.

-🦌 But he didn’t, he simply ignored the book and only ever asked about it if you were near him. You always get flustered and hide the book even further. Oh now he’s wondering what kind of dark secrets you have in there~

-🦌 But to his surprise when he finds it open and on a page, he sees drawings of him, he carefully flips the page and sees a half down sketch of him sitting in front of the fireplace.

-🦌 Oh boy you just made his ego inflate and his undead heart soar to new heights. His tail starts wagging and that’s the only way someone can catch how happy he is.

-🦌 Now? He’s going to poke a little fun at you, “My Dear, if you had to pick anyone in the hotel to be your muse who would it be?” 

-🦌 Silly deer man loves you and your abilities, he often tells you that your work needs to be displayed in a museum.

-🍎Lucifer🍎-

-🍎 Oh boy- when he finds out you can draw? Oh he gets super excited and asks if you can draw him a duck- even if it’s a little doodle! He doesn’t care!

-He doesn’t really ask or pry into your hobby much but he will admit he does want to see what you draw.

-When he does see that you drew him of all people he gets all flustered and he’s prideful cause his partner?? His darling little angel drew him?!?

-He will volunteer to pose for you, he’s used to sitting still for hours on end! 

-He will even pose naked if you want him to! Just say the word and he’ll drop his clothes right there.

-🎰Husk🎰-

-🎰 He watched you sit at the bar and draw to your heart's content and never really commented on it.

-🎰 When he does peek into your sketchbook it’s to pull behind the bar into a safe place so nothing ruins your work.

-🎰That’s when he notices the drawings and doodles of him and his tail curls happily. The way you captured him doing menial tasks sends his heart into overdrive.

-🎰 You were too good for him, damn it. The next time you find it? It has a little sticky note on the cover of your sketchbook and it has a little drawing of you with a small message, “Had to go out with Alastor. Love you, Dollface.” 

-🕷️ Angel Dust 🩷-

-🕷️ Oh this man- he loves it! You’re an artist and he’s also like an artist! But of a very very different genre.

-🩷 He also doesn’t pry much as he understands privacy. He wants to give you that as much as he can since he doesn’t get much of it.

-🕷️ Once he finds out you draw him? He’s over the fucking moon cause his man? His precious boyfriend draws him! 

-🩷Expect him to start flirting more and more but with art related flirts. “Come on, Suga’~ Draw me like one of your french girls~” im sorry. He’s very supportive!

-👑Charlie👑-

-👑 oh this baby girl..she’s been so busy lately that if she did notice it completely slipped her mind!

-👑 But when she finds your sketchbook? She gets super excited cause you draw this good?? She’s so proud that she immediately goes to find you!

-👑 She is another who fully supports you! You need anything, don't hesitate to ask!

-👑 Will try to convince you to start painting for the hotel! You can say no it won’t offend her.

-🎀Vaggie🎀-

-🎀 Much like Husk she won’t point it out or comment on it.

-🎀Will find out you draw her when she sees it when cleaning up and gets all blushy cause this is how you see her?

-🎀 Comes clean immediately about seeing your drawings and tells you how amazing they are.

-🎀 Shyly asks if she can pose for you next time, how could you say no to her?

[izuke-the-zombie]

🌸Sorry for the long ass absent guys 🫠 family and holidays have been crazy😮‍💨

I recently came across this short monkie kid wild West AU fanfic

It's short but it's really good, And it sort of got me in the mood to sketch or at least redraw the two mystic monkeys cowboy outfits again

I really wasn't sure whether to give Mac, purple boots or just black boots you can kind of see it in the first pick faded Mac.

🌸🐎🐴✨But I don't think I've seen anyone draw them with horses or write something about it, so I'm going to be the first one to do it! (I don't know how to draw them sitting on horses, so bear with me here.)😗💦 I know I put the scar on the wrong side of the Smokey Horse. My bad, let's just pretend it's on the right side.LOL😅🪷

😽💕I headCannon that when those two summon their horses together, they get really affectionate. The sheriff's horse is more like a big old golden retriever, playful and mischievous, and rarely ever listens to its owner. While over here, Mac's is more well-behaved and obedient, and they can get quite sassy sometimes. I'm not sure what to call it. It's hard to separate those two, so they try not to summon them at the same time.

They're also very affectionate to the monkeys especially the opposite ones.🐶🐎✨💕

😄I want a scenario where they let the horses stay instead of just poofing them out of existence so MK/MEI can play with the horses just a bit longer since they were begging them by giving them the puppy dog eyes (especially on Mei's side; she's a horse girl fan), and after a long while, the sheriff notices that his horse Nimbus was acting a little more strange and protective over the Smokey horse, letting them eat first, and just never leaving their side. All sorts of strange behavior on the Nimbus side. All he ever notices from the shadow horse is that they were a little sluggish, but he doesn't think too much of it.😗🤠🐵

🌟Until one day, BAM! This little cutie came into the world as a precious, adorable little cinnamon roll, prancing around like it owns the world.🧁😽🌎✨

🐎There's stupidly protective over this little guy.👿😡🦄🐴☀️🌙🌠

🐴And there's a huge problem. This little guy is clumsy as heck. He's new and everything, so of course he is, but he likes to adventure out without his horsey parents knowing or anyone else, and he loves playing games like tag his favorite, but because he's so clumsy, he causes damage that MK or his mentors have to fix, so everyone has to be on high alert and watch over the little rascal. LMAO 🐎🍼💥💕✨

🌸I hope you enjoyed this, I certainly had fun drawing this I wish there was more wild West monkeys fics there's some freaking cute💕✨

💥Aaaah! I love these freaking cow monkeys 😆💖

[dustmusings]

let me take care of you

Rex x F!Reader

word count: 5.7k

description: you have been suffering from depression for a few months and have shut yourself off from the world. a few weeks after getting laid off from your job, you get an unexpected knock at the door.

warnings: i'm gonna say this is 16+ just to be safe, heavily implied sex, depiction of depression, suicidal ideation, hurt/comfort, friends to lovers, mutual pining - let me know what I've missed !

a/n: okay so this is sooooo self-indulgent it's actually embarassing. I wrote the first bit of this when I was truly going through it and... yeah, it's just Rex taking care of the reader hehe, with a bit of suggestive stuff but not proper smut. if that's your kinda thing, I hope you enjoy! (also this is the first oneshot that I've actually posted so gimme constructive criticism pls !!)

Everything felt foggy.

For the past months, your life had felt like you were just going through the motions. Wake up, go to work, come home, struggle to sleep, and repeat. You didn't enjoy the things you used to anymore. It had been too long since you had taken a walk in the park, since you had sketched or written, and it hurt that you couldn't seem to even try and do them. Like there was an invisible force stopping you, and yet, there wasn't. It was just your own mind, lacking in whatever hormone would make you happy.

You couldn't find it in yourself to take care of yourself properly, and ever since being laid off from your job a few weeks ago, you had gone into the worst of it. You weren't eating properly, you couldn't sleep, sometimes staying up all night even though you would lay in your bed and just pray for it to be different. You hadn't seen your friends in months, though they would try and check in on you. You always told them you were busy, but you knew they knew what was going on. You had been like this before, though this time it was worse.

You shut yourself off from the world.

You hadn't been out of your apartment at all in days when you heard the knock. You made your way to your front door, and your breath hitched when you peered through the little hole and saw who was behind it.

Rex.

The clone stood in the hallway, his helmet at his hip, looking down the hall, and handsome as ever. There was no way you were letting him in while you were in this state. You hadn't brushed your hair in maker knows how long, you hadn't showered in… maybe a week? and the last time you had brushed your teeth was probably 2 days ago. Your personal hygiene was sorely lacking.

You watched the Captain through the door, your breath fogging up the glass, and jumped back when the knocking of the door reverberated around your small apartment.

What is he doing here?

You hadn't seen Rex since you lost your job, though he was among the few people who checked in with you regularly, trying to ask about how you were or convince you to come out of the house. Your stomach churned at the idea of people fussing about you, and now one of them was standing outside your door. A particular one of them that, in any given other state, you would be dying to see.

Your deep attraction and affection for Rex only made this situation more uncomfortable for you, the thought of answering the door making you feel physically sick.

You then heard your name called from behind the door in a deep, questioning voice, and your knees went weak.

“Are you in there?” He asked, followed by another knock.

You wanted to reply, to say anything, but you couldn't find your voice. What would I say? You elected to just go back to your bed, let him leave on his own, and pretend he was never here.

You scooted backwards but caught your hip on a table, sending a pile of your precious books hurtling to the floor. You held your breath, hoping Rex had not heard the noise, but it was no use.

Rex called your name again, and this time, it was gentler, “…Please let me in”

Your eyes watered as you walked up to the door, your finger hovering over the button that would cause it to slide open.

“I'm fine Rex, you can go” You tried to sound as resolute as you could, but the quiver in your voice was obvious.

“Cyare… let me in. I'm not leaving”

The nickname hit you hard, and you truly felt like clutching your chest as it pulled at the part of you that desired the clone on the other side of the door like no other.

You had met Rex years ago, at the job you had recently been let go from, working as a civilian medic on Coruscant.

The Captain could rarely be convinced by his brothers to take himself to the medbay, much more of the suffer in silence type. However, once you had begun working there, he had started making trips there for every little bump and scratch, and sometimes even when he was in perfect health, he would go claiming a cold or headache. He had always had a soft spot for you, and though he'd never admit it, he made it obvious. Everyone around him knew, everyone around you knew, but for whatever reason, you hadn't cottoned on at all.

He found you exceedingly beautiful, obviously intelligent, and just the most wonderful and bright spark of a person he'd ever met. Though, that was far from what you were feeling like at the moment.

You had also been enamoured by the Captain from the very start. The moment he walked into the medbay and made eye contact with you, you were done for. Whether it was his loyalty to his men, his commanding presence, or his wonderful smile that did it, you didn't know, but you were kriffed from the beginning.

“I can't let you in” You said, leaning your forehead into the door.

“Why not?” He said in a hushed tone that you could barely hear.

“I- I'm just not feeling well okay?” You choked out, vastly minimising the issue.

“I dont mind Cyare, just let me in. Please” He begged, but you just shook your head, squeezing your eyes shut.

You and Rex had grown into good friends quite naturally. In his needless visits to the med bay, he would often stay after hours and help you clean up, and you would fall into conversation about anything and everything. You shared many opinions about a variety of topics and would talk about your respective favourite things. Rex found that he learned a great deal about the wider galaxy from you, and he could hear you talk about art for hours upon end.

You were a fantastic artist, absolutely brilliant in any media, but Rex loved your sketches the most. You had brought him to your apartment once after work, when he had practically begged to see your work. He liked the simplicity of it, creating life with just a few stokes of a pencil. Your drawings held such character, such joy, such sorrow, and Rex thought that they were always so uniquely you. For that, he loved them.

“Rex I-” You didn't know what to say. You sank to your knees on the floor, letting your tears silently fall down your cheeks.

“Please…” He said one more time, and you finally broke.

You reached up and pressed the button, and the door zipped open to reveal your defeated posture to him. You dared not look up at him. You didn't want him to see you like this at all, but the thought of looking him in the eye when you knew how dishevelled, how weak you looked, you couldn't stomach it.

“Oh Cyare” He said softly and closed the door behind him, sinking to his knees in front of you. He tentatively placed a hand on your knee and began rubbing his thumb back and forth. “What's happened? You haven't been in the medbay for weeks”

“I was laid off” You replied quietly.

“What? Why would they do that?” He asked, genuinely confused. You were a talented medic. He could see no reason for it.

“Money is tight. We are at war after all” You chuckled a little bit, knowing that much was obvious to Rex.

“What are you upset about? I'm sure there's somewhere else that would take you, you're a great medic” He asked so innocently that you could almost laugh.

“It's not about that…” You sighed, running a hand over your face, still looking down.

“What is it about?” Rex said softly, shuffling forwards so his armoured knees touched your bare ones.

“I just… I can't do it anymore Rex” You whispered, the first time you had freely admitted it to anyone before.

Rex tensed up. He brought his other hand up and gently grabbed your chin, tilting your head to look at you properly. The look in your eyes already told him the answer to the question he was about to ask, “Can't do what?”

“It. Life. Anything. I just want to disappear” You said, choking on your tears and overwhelmed by the thoughts that weighed you down. Rex's amber irises burned into yours with such an intensity, but not for long, as his arms made their way around your body, and he pulled you into his lap.

You cried into his chest, with him stroking your hair and holding you close to him with the other arm, scared that you would somehow get your wish and disappear in his arms.

He was at a loss for words. He couldn't understand how someone he thought was so wonderful and incredible could be harbouring such hateful feelings about themself. He feared saying anything that would upset you, and the last thing he wished to do was deny how you were feeling by telling you that you were wrong, so he just held you in his arms, silently letting you know he was there for you, no matter what. The sound of your crying was making his heart break, but he stayed like that until it died down.

“How long have you been feeling like this?” He asked tentatively, drawing back and holding your jaw so he could see your face.

“I dont know… four or five months, maybe?” You replied, and it felt like he had been stabbed in the chest.

How had he not noticed anything was wrong? He felt like he had failed you, that your friendship was for nought if he couldn't even tell when you were upset. He didn't place any of the blame on you, but he had to ask…

“Why didn't you tell me?”

You sighed, “I didn't want to concern you with it. It's for me to deal with”

“What? It's not just for you to deal with, of course I'd want to know if you're not okay. I'm so sorry I didn't notice” He said, his tone so heavy with guilt.

“It's okay, it makes sense that you didn't”

Rex almost took offence to the comment, but the small smile on your lips didn't evade him, “Why does it make sense?”

“Uh, I guess I was always happy around you” You admit, “You- Uh we’re good friends, you know? I like spending time with you”

Despite the comment about being friends, Rex's heart soared, “I like spending time with you too Cyare”

“Why are you calling me that all of a sudden?” You asked. You knew what it meant, you'd spent enough time among the clones, and it was impossible to escape when you overheard their unabashed flirting on your few trips to 79s.

“Um” Rex gulped, not feeling like right now was the best time to admit that he was wildly in love with you, “I don't know, I care about you, you know? Like you said, we're good friends”

You nodded, seeming satisfied with the explanation, and Rex breathed out a shaky breath.

“I'm sorry you had to see me like this” You looked down, playing with your fingers as heat rose to your cheeks.

“It's fine, I really don't mind. Besides, you still look good to me” He said, and your eyes snapped back up to his instantly, your breath becoming short. Rex thinks I look good?

“Thanks Captain” You grinned shyly, your face feeling positively on fire at the compliment.

“It's no problem” He smiled, then he became more serious, “Have you eaten today?”

“Uh- no” You looked away again, feeling ashamed.

“Alright, let me fix you some food then” He readjusted his hold on you and picked you up, setting you down on your couch. Your head was spinning from the intimacy of feeling his breath fanning over your face.

“I don't really have any food here” You admitted sheepishly.

“Okay, how about this then” He crouched by the couch so that his eyes were level with yours, “Why don't you go and have a shower, do whatever you need to feel a bit better, and I'll go out and get us some food”

“Rex… I can't ask you to do that for me” You spoke hesitantly, but he shook his head.

“You're not asking, and in fact, neither am I” He said with a playful glint in his eye, “Go and freshen up, that's an order soldier”

You giggled at him and took the hand that he offered to help you up.

“Yes sir” You saluted him and marched off in the direction of the refresher, earning a laugh from the clone.

You stepped into the refresher and looked yourself in the eye for probably the first time in days. You did not look good. Your eyes held bags that looked so heavy that they could weigh down the skin they inhabited, your hair was a complete mess, and your skin was dull and lifeless.

You sighed, grabbed your hairbrush, and decided to start there. It took a few minutes, but soon, your hair was completely knot-free, and you stripped off and stepped into the shower. You took your time finding the perfect temperature, which ended up being almost scalding hot. You leaned your elbows against the wall, letting the water hit your back and relieving some of the tension you could feel there.

Now that you were actually in the shower, you didn't feel like leaving at all. Though, the idea of Rex being outside the door when you finished was enough for you to quickly wash yourself and your hair and hop out again. You brushed your teeth twice and moisturised your clean skin. Looking in the mirror, you looked a lot better than you did before you went in the shower, and you were eternally thankful for that. If you were going to see the person you had been in love with for years, you only wanted to look your best.

You stepped out of the refresher and headed for your bedroom with your dirty clothes in hand.

“Hey, are you-”

You jumped out of your skin when you saw Rex stood in the living area with a bag in hand, and he did too when he saw you with only a towel wrapped around you. Your eyes went wide, and you wrapped the towel tighter around your body on instinct, only fueling the less-than-pure thoughts that were spilling into Rex's brain. You looked so incredible, your hair dripping water over your body, which was seemingly glistening with its new cleanliness, and your towel left little to the imagination.

“Um yeah, you're out, cool, uh- I'll let you get dressed” He turned around and cursed silently to himself for being so awkward.

You just chuckled nervously, feeling utterly mortified, and made your way to your room as intended. You found a fresh oversized t-shirt and pair of soft shorts and slipped into them quickly, rejoining Rex in the other room.

He had taken off the top half of his armour, leaving just his blacks, the Republic insignia adorned proudly on his chest. The tightness of the top showed off his toned physique as if he wasn't even wearing anything, and you had to tear your eyes away from it.

“What did you get?” You asked quietly, sitting down next to him on the couch.

“Noodles, is that okay?” He asked, looking to you a little nervously.

You chucked at his demeanour, which was decidedly un-captain-like as he looked to you for approval, “It's perfect, thank you”

You both picked up the boxes that held your food and dug in, and your bodies turned to face each other as you rested against oppsite ends of the couch. It was good to have a proper meal, with actually nutritious foods. When you had eaten as of late, it had mostly been ration bars or random snacks you could find in your apartment. You hummed contentedly, and Rex smiled at you.

“Good?”

“Mhm” You smiled, swallowing a bite, “Thank you Rex”

“It’s alright” He said nonchalantly.

“I mean it, thank you for… taking care of me” You said, then looked down, “I'm finding that difficult at the moment, so it means a lot”

“Cyare” Rex moved towards you and placed a hand on your knee, “It's really no trouble, I just want to see you feeling better”

You looked up at him and gave a tight lipped smile, “Well, thank you anyway”

“No problem. You look a little more alive now, by the way” He teased.

“Hey! You're the one that said I looked good before, you cant take it back now” You challenged, and he smirked.

“I'm not taking it back. You just look even better now” He said, but his smirk dropped when you froze up at his comment.

“You dont have to say that just to make me feel better, you know” You said, looking down and taking your final mouthful of noodles.

“I'm not just saying it” He said quietly, and you looked up to see his light frown. You put down your food box as he continued to stare at you seriously.

“What is it?” You ask.

“It's nothing, don't worry about it” He said quickly and put his own food box down as he finished.

“Rex” You scooted closer to him so that your knees were almost touching, “What's the matter?”

“Nothing’s the matter” He avoided your eyes as he spoke, and you used the technique that he employed earlier on, gently taking his chin between your thumb and finger and guiding his gaze towards you.

“What is it?” You asked again, and his eyebrows pinched together as his eyes flicked between the two of yours.

“You're so beautiful Cyare” He said, tentatively placing his hand on your lower thigh.

Your breath hitched in your throat at the gentle touch, and you searched his eyes for any dishonesty but only found them to be as earnest as usual.

“I- I should've been telling you every day since I met you” He said, his voice breaking just a little as he spoke so softly, “I should’ve been telling you how much you mean to me, how much I care for you, how important you are” He stroked his thumb back and forth on your thigh, sending tingles up your spine.

“Rex” You breathed out in a whisper, your hand sliding around to cup his sharp jaw. He leaned into your touch, and you felt as if you could melt at the sight.

“Say something” He urged, his eyes pleading for a conformation that you felt the same way.

“I-” You didn't know what to say. You felt the same, but the words got caught in your throat. It felt wrong to truly admit to your affection for him after bottling it up for so long.

“Rex, I've always cared for you, far more than a medic should care for their patient” You admitted, and his eyes lit up.

“You have?” He asked, and you nodded in reply.

“And for the record, I think you're beautiful too” You let a small grin creep its way onto your face.

“That’s good to know” Rex smirked, bringing his other hand to your cheek.

He looked deeply into your eyes, the eyes that he always found so fascinating, and he leaned his forehead against yours before tilting his head towards your lips. You shivered with anticipation.

“Is this okay? I don't want to take advantage of you if you-”

“Just kiss me Rex” You whispered against his lips, your eyes fluttering shut. He didn't delay after that. With your permission, he couldn't say no.

His lips met yours tentatively, as if testing the waters, but as soon as he felt you kiss him back, he pulled you in more urgently. His lips moved against yours, melding together as if it was how they were made to be. You felt your need for closeness growing, and you pulled him towards you as you deepened the kiss. Rex slid his hand up your thigh, resting it on your hip and tracing small circles with his thumb as his other hand moved to the back of your neck, pulling you impossibly closer as he devoured your lips.

Rex pulled back, his teeth lingering on your bottom lip for a moment, and you both caught your breath.

“I can't tell you how long I've wanted to do that” You said, your breath still short.

Rex grinned widely, “Yeah? I can guarantee it's probably not as long as I have”

“Probably not” You chuckled, “Unless you somehow wanted to before you even looked at me for the first time”

Rex raised his eyebrows, “You've wanted to kiss me the whole time we've known each other?” He asked, and you nodded your head shyly. “Why didn't you say anything?”

“I dont know, I guess I just figured you wouldn't feel the same” You shrug.

Rex just shook his head with a smile and pulled you onto his lap “Oh, how wrong you were”

“Is that right?” You smirked, “I'd love to hear all about just how wrong I was”

Rex smirked back at you, and placed a kiss to your cheek, “I've wanted to kiss those pretty lips of yours ever since I laid eyes on you” He confessed, and your breath hitched as he continued to place featherlight kisses along your jaw. “I thought you were the most beautiful person I'd ever seen” He kissed down your neck slowly, gently nipping at you with his teeth at the point where your neck meets your shoulder, which earned a small whine from you, and you could feel him smirk.

“I've never felt the way I feel about you, about anyone else” He murmured against your skin, burying his nose in your neck and inhaling your scent.

His words were driving you crazy. They were all you had ever wanted to hear from him, and here he was, speaking them aloud as he kissed your skin so gently, as if you would break if he pressed any harder.

“Rex” You whispered, and he looked up at you, waiting for you to continue.

“What is it, Mesh'la?” He whispered back, his lips ghosting yours. You shuddered in his arms, your eyes fluttering closed, and he watched your every move with anticipation.

“Rex, I-” You leaned your forehead against his, needing an anchor before you spoke your next words, “I need you”

Rex's heart skipped a beat. Possibly a few beats. “What do you mean, Cyare?”

“Please, take me to the bedroom” You asked, begged, and Rex took action immediately.

He held you to him as he stood up, and you wrapped your legs around him tightly. He made his way to your bed quickly and gently laid you onto your back, crawling over you so he was holding himself above your body.

“You're sure about this, Cyare? If it's just a lapse in judgement because you're not in your right mind, I understand, no hard feelings” Rex stroked your cheek with his knuckles, looking into your eyes intently.

“Rex, please. My judgement is just fine. I want you. I've always wanted you” You said, the neediness so obvious in your tone. Rex's expression then settled somewhere between amusement and adoration.

“You want me?” He smirked, his lips hovering just above yours.

“Yes” You spoke breathlessly.

“Say it again” He commanded in a whisper, his amber eyes burning into your very soul.

“I want you, Rex”

He breathed out a shaky breath and brought his lips to yours, speaking between chaste kisses, “You have me, all of me. You always have. I've always been yours”

It was almost too much to hear. Your heart was pounding in your ears, and you thought you'd made it all up.

“I've always been yours Rex” You whispered against his lips, and his breath stuttered.

“You're mine?” He asked in a murmur. The flame of desire burning in his eyes was clear.

“Only yours”

He pressed his lips to yours with a newfound desperation, his hand trailing down your body and holding your hips in place as he slipped his leg between yours. You grasped at his body, your hands finding themselves underneath the top of his blacks, and he stopped kissing you to pull it off. You absolutely marvelled at the sight.

In all your time knowing Rex, mending up his various wounds, you had never had the honour of glimpsing at his form without a shirt on. You traced along a scar at the centre of his chest, “How did you get this?”

“I was shot” He shrugged with a grin.

“No big deal for a big important Captain like you, I suppose” You teased and matched his grin as he rolled his eyes.

“Shut up” He mumbled against your skin as he buried his head in your neck, leaving soft kisses and less soft bites. You struggled to keep small moans from escaping your lips at his touch, and Rex noticed you holding back. He wound his way up to your lips, pressing a short kiss to them before he spoke.

“Don't hold out on me cyar'ika, I want to hear you”

You bit your lip and nodded at him, then kissed a trail across his strong jaw, earning a soft groan. As your kisses made their way down his neck, and you brought your hands to trail down his body, he groaned more deeply. The sound was driving you insane. Before you could breach the top of his blacks, Rex gathered your wrists in his hand and held them above your head, your eyes blown wide with desire and longing, your breath ragged.

Rex just looked at you for a moment, committing the intoxicating sight to his memory. His other hand found your face as he shifted the leg that was between yours, earning a whimper, “Don't worry about that, just let me take care of you”

You shuddered at his words, your body tense with anticipation for what was to come.

He looked so perfect, angelic even.

Watching Rex sleep was never a luxury you imagined yourself getting the opportunity to indulge in, but with it right in front of you, you weren't going to let it pass you by.

You had slept for a little while, wrapped up in Rex's limbs, and held closely to his body. You had been completely at peace, every struggle and awful thought that usually plagued you was pushed to the back of your mind and there was only him, his presence enveloping you; his warmth, his scent, the feel of his skin against yours, his breath against your cheek and his chest rising and falling gently. Now, as you moved away from him and watched the cold light of morning creep across his features, you couldn't help but marvel at the sight.

You slipped out of his arms, a soft sigh escaping him in the process. Your heart clenched at the sound, only feeling your adoration for him growing once again.

You reluctantly tore your gaze away from him and went over to your desk, opening the left draw as quietly as you could. You took out your flimsi sketchbook and a pencil and made your way over to the chair that was against the large window overlooking the city. However, that wasn't the focus of your sketching today, not when there was a sight far more beautiful laying in your bed.

You opened up your small sketchbook and looked at the last thing you had drawn. It was a scene from the park. A couple sat on a bench at the edge of the man-made pond and smiling adoringly at each other. You smiled and pushed down the guilt at the realisation that you had drawn this over four months ago.

When you looked up to Rex again, your heart skipped a beat. The sun had risen a little higher in the sky and cast a golden light across the lower half of his face and chest. You took up your pencil and began sketching the view before anything could disturb it.

The sheets were pooled at his waist, showing off his toned physique in all its glory, especially as he slept with one hand tucked under his head. His features were relaxed, more relaxed than you had ever seen. His face often had a sternness about it that was undeniably militaristic, but that was nowhere to be found as he slept peacefully.

You had the outline and were now just adding the details. The small marks on his skin, some that you had fixed up yourself, and the large blaster burn in the centre of his chest. As you were adding some of the shadows to his face, you heard a small grumble, and your head shot up to see Rex opening his eyes, stretching his arms out.

“Don’t move” You spoke gently, and he looked to you, noticing your sketchbook in your hand as you sat curled up in your chair.

He smiled, a warmth spreading across his chest as he settled back into his previous position, “Like this?”

“Mhm” You hummed in reply, taking in the way the shadows on his face changed now that he was awake. “Relax” You laughed as you saw a small crease emerge in his brow.

He chuckled a little and relaxed with a contented sigh.

“Almost done” You said quietly, as if to not disturb your own work.

You quickly added the remaining shading, adding some small details of the bed and the room, wanting to capture the moment perfectly, so that should your mind ever forget it, which you doubted, it would be forever recorded. That was what you loved about using flimi over a datapad. The physicality felt more personal and permanent.

“All finished” You smiled as you closed your sketchbook and went to place it back in your desk.

“Hey! Aren't you going to show me?” Rex asked, and you looked back to him to see the crease in brow had returned.

“It's not very good, it's just a sketch”

“Cyare, I love your sketches. Please, show me” He spoke gently, an edge of seriousness to deny your self-deprecating words.

“Okay” You conceded, opening the sketchbook back up and sitting down on the bed to show him. Rex then grabbed you by the waist and pulled you into him, making you fall back into his chest as he laid down again. A delighted laugh escaped your lips at the sudden contact, and you looked up to Rex's face to see an equally elated expression.

He took the sketchbook from your hand and looked over the drawing of himself, his smile widening with each second.

“It's amazing” He said softly, meeting your eyes again.

“That's because it's of you” You smiled and brushed your nose against his, earning a small chuckle.

“No, it's… You make me look so…” He looked over the drawing and tried to find the right word to describe what he meant, “I'm not sure. It looks exactly like me, but… There's something else to it”

“Well, all the best things are made with love” You said before you could even really process what you were saying.

Rex’s eyes went wide as they snapped back to yours, “Love?” He questioned.

You shrank backwards, wanting the bed to collapse in on itself and swallow you whole, but Rex’s arm tightened around your waist, pulling you against him. You let the word hang in the air for a moment before clearing your throat and swallowing hard.

“Uh… yeah” You said awkwardly, looking away.

Rex said your name in a soft tone, pulling your focus back to him. He rested his forehead against yours, his amber eyes burning into yours, “You love me?”

“I do” You whispered, gnawing your bottom lip at the vulnerability of the admission.

Rex met your lips in a sweet kiss, slow and deliberate, and pulled away a few seconds later. He caressed your cheek with his knuckles before he settled his palm on the back of your neck. “I love you too” He confessed, and your heart leapt to your throat.

“You do?” You whispered.

“I do. I always have. It's like I said, I've always been yours” He confirmed, repeating the words he had said last night. You brought your forehead to his again and closed your eyes, taking in the sweetness of the moment.

“And I yours”

Nothing was fixed. You weren't back to being happy and full of life like you once were, but Rex had reminded you why life was worth living. You were reminded of all the things that made it worthwhile, all of the things you loved to do, the things that brought joy and colour into your life. If you could just take it one step at a time, one day after the other, you would get through this feeling, and best of all, Rex would be there to support you when you needed him.

[glamourscat]

SWEET LIKE CINNAMON | Ryō Sakurai dating HCS

I’m sorry but dating Ryo Sakurai?!?! sjdjfowowm

He would be THE CUTESTTT. The most adorable BOYFRIEND. Just, he is so precious

Canonically speaking, he is a sensitive and kind guy. Not only he is constantly apologetic but is easy to fluster

He would blush so hard every time you flirt or compliment him

Literally the audio “oh? I am pretty boy? Pretty?” Cue to him being an awkward, flustered mess while inside he is giggling and kicking his feet 

I can see him with someone who’s just as gentle as him, but that can also bring him out of his shell. Not an extrovert, but those types of introverts who can become extroverts with the right people you know? 

Someone who will show him it’s ok to stand up for yourself. Maybe, even someone who’s extremely confident in themselves and will not take shit from anyone. He would find that so hot 

Also, you bet he will be so supportive of you. He is such a supportive teammate, I can’t imagine him being any less with his partner. Coming to see you at your events. Wanna change jobs? Hell yeah, he is right with ya. Wanna travel the world? He has already packed a bag

However, he also has another side. The more competitive, arrogant if not prideful side, when he knows he is right. When he knows he will win. I see this coming out more when he is jealous. He won’t necessarily sulk, but he will be perhaps overconfident for some. “Why would I be jealous? I mean, look at them and look at me? Why would my partner leave me for that?”

His life motto is literally "Don’t do bad things to people that have been done to you"

One of his hobbies is drawing manga. I like to think some of his favourite subjects in school was art and literature. He would draw his s/o 100% From little sketches from before you two got together to proper artwork gifted to you as an anniversary present once together

His type is literally “a drifter girl”.  Meaning he is attracted to a girl who is free-spirited, independent and doesn’t settle in one place for long

Maybe someone who often moves around and is not tied down by commitments or routines. Someone who doesn’t necessarily fit the societal standard. A spontaneous, adventurous and a tad mysterious soul

I can see him with a foreigner. Someone who is from another culture, someone that brings another side to the equation. Travelling with him around the world is truly something not too far fetched. He would be so down

Lastly, he is very good at cooking. Which I feel is one of his love languages. Acts of service/cooking and quality time maybe sprinkled with some words of affirmation— but more for him to receive honestly

Still, he would most definitely try out new recipes and have you there to try them. Or even cook bentos for you too! 

[idorukiss]

Heres a sorta drabble/headcanon of sorts of how I picture MC's relationship with Rafayel would devleop~ I'm not much of a writer but the brainrot is real and im working on making similar ones for the other boys too!

1,051 words || You can also read it on ao3

‧͙⁺˚･༓･˚⁺‧͙⁺˚･༓･˚⁺‧͙⁺˚･༓･˚⁺‧͙⁺˚･༓･˚⁺‧͙⁺˚･༓･˚⁺‧͙ Xavier ・ Zayne ・ Sylus

There have been many different things in Rafayel's life that inspired him when it comes to his art, But nothing took control of his heart so intensely as much as you have. Like a whirlpool you shook him to his core from that first meeting, and all he wants to do is capture you on his canvas for eternity.

It really was quite the blessing with how willing you were to become his bodyguard- not only can he keep you within arms reach but you can also protect him from all the shady people after his life. Like killing 2 birds with one stone, except you were so much stronger and beautiful than any stone he’s ever set eyes on before

He absolutely felt like a flirt to you at the start with all of the compliments and casual physical touch between you guys, He just loved to say how amazing you are while enclosing you in a deep bear hug. It was strange at first you'd admit, but it never felt like he was trying to make any passes at you or act like he was expecting anything in return. Perhaps that's just how he acts with people he trusts?

When Rafayel isnt painting, you two spend a lot of time outside finding inspiration all around. He usually has a sketchbook with him scribbling away anytime he sees something interesting- the landscapes, pretty flowers, or even a parfait you guys got to share. You’ve seen some of these sketches as he works on them, it always amazes you how much detail he can capture with so few lines.

He never let you fully flip through the sketchbook however, claiming all sorts of reasons why, like that the drawings were scared of the sunlight or you had to go through many trials to be worthy. It was obvious how much he cherished it and you respected his wishes, though it would be nice to reminisce on some of the good times you guys had together again. Though its not like your phone wasn't filled to the brim with photos already

Late one night, you stop by his place to make sure he didn't need any motivation to finish a painting for a deadline set the next morning. You have confidence he could make it in time, he always did, but you want to help him as best as you can otherwise. When you arrive you spot a stunning completed painting and a Rafayel sleeping on the sofa below it- both stunning as they're illuminated by the moonlight.

Taking it upon yourself to clean up his supplies a little, just enough to not be a walking hazard of course, you spot his precious travel sketchbook on the floor. Surely he wouldn't mind if you took a little peak in it, you'd love to see how he finished the last landscape you guys saw before he locked himself up to work. As you flip through the pages you see so many familiar sights from your time together so far, but scattered around them filling maybe even more pages was many drawings of a person. Of you. All surrounded by hearts and little notes about things you've said.

When did he have a chance to draw all of these? Is this how you look to him?? Questions race your mind as your face flushes at the image of him intensely scribbling in the sketchbook as you dance around the beach being dumb. You decide to grab a pencil and add your attempt of a sketch of him in the back, signing it with a little heart of your own. It’s nowhere near his skill level but something that captures how you feel, and maybe he would get a chuckle out of it once he spots it.

You don’t realize when the casual acts of affection he started out with turn slightly more romantic- going from linking arms together to holding your hand, and you swear you feel him press little kisses on the top of your head every time he wraps his arms around you. But you don't hate it, in fact it makes your heart flutter every time you realize it

Rafayel often messages you at the most random times to meet him somewhere, usually it was because he found a stunning view and wanted to share the experience with you. Sometimes he would even show up at your apartment to whisk you away, and every time it filled you with joy. These dates and every moment you get to spend with him fill your heart with so much warmth.

One particularly warm night you were woken up by a call inviting you to the beach near his studio. It was worth crawling out of the bed at an ungodly hour, not only for the view but for him. While you were admiring the waves, he couldn't keep his eyes off you as a cautious pinky is hooked around yours. Two faces flush as you look at him, it lasts for only a moment before its interrupted by your watch.

Your face falls as you read the notification “It looks like I got a last minute mission in the morning…I guess this means I have to head back already.” As you take a heavy step to start walking away he reaches out to stop you with a pleading look on his face “Wait, don’t go yet” “Rafayel…. I’m sorry, I really am. This night- everything was wonderful, it really was” “Can’t you just stay the night?” He wraps his arms around you, nuzzling his face into your neck “Please just stay the night, I don’t want you to leave.” Your heart flutters as you wrap your arms around him in return “Okay, I’ll stay for you my sweet painter”

He is the most clingy man you’ve ever met, constantly torn between wrapping himself around you while peppering every inch of skin with kisses and diving headfirst into hundreds of paintings with you as his muse. His studio would be covered in nothing but paintings of you if he didn't have to focus on his commissions.

He sculpted out a place in your heart that held him, and in turn you've devoted yourself to him- loving him with every fiber of your being

[frogs00]

hiii can i request a janis x regressed fem reader. nothing specific, just fluffy cuteness hehe. thank you:3 <3

Apple Juice

Summary: Janis worries when reader doesn't show up at school, only to find her girlfriend is perfectly fine, and little.

Warnings: Fluff, age regression

Pairings: Janis + Reader

Y/n didn’t show up at school today, which wasn’t typical considering she was an excellent student. Janis knew you wouldn’t miss it for no reason and it made her worried, she texted you a few times but you hadn’t responded— up until now.

The text was a string of incoherent letters and emojis but she could make out a few words. She bit her lip in thought scanning the message over again, concluding you were regressed, she knew you tended to regress when stressed or overwhelmed, really a lot of factors went into it, and she was more than happy to help.

Also, from the looks of it, you were in a good mood… Maybe? Considering the happy emojis used, it wasn’t unlikely but also looks could be deceiving- and was that a frowny face?

Janis quickly shook her head, she was reading too much into things. She’d check on you later, and you’d be okay.

She hoped so.

Due to the worry for her girlfriend, she was very antsy in class. Art was her last period of the day, which she was usually happy with, but right now she just wanted to get out of here.

“Girl, tell that leg of yours to calm down, you’re shaking the table.” Damian spoke, shooting her a playful glare, “I’m trying to sketch. The Mona Lisa didn't happen on a shaky table.”

“And it also wasn’t created by a seventeen-year-old, gay man in the twenty-first century with a knack for annoying me.” Janis retorted, making Damian recoil.

“Rude, but okay.” he studied her, “Girl, what’s got you so worked up?” he asked, concern bubbling in his voice.

“Sorry, sorry. I just want to see y/n.” Janis bit her lip and sighed, worried for her precious girlfriend.

“Darling, she’s fine,” Damian patted her hand gently, then retracted his, “She probably just needed a day off, you know that girl overworks herself. Worst-case scenario she’s sick, but she would’ve told you if she was so calm down.”

No, you wouldn’t have been able to tell her since you were regressed, or at least she thought so. Still, she also knew you weren’t sick. Janis would’ve been able to tell the day before. So maybe she did have nothing to worry about. She nodded “Yeah, you’re right.”

She shrugged and decided to sketch you out a little picture. She knew you’d enjoy it.

_

You were startled by a knock on the door. Blinking rapidly, you internally debated whether or not to open it, you didn’t want to open the door for a stranger, and you knew that wasn’t good, so you just continued coloring in the Paw Patrol coloring book. You turned up the music playing through your headphones, trying to ignore it.

Only a minute later you heard the knock again, louder this time, and your irritation spiked. You got up and threw the marker down, muting the music, and walked towards the door.

“Baby, it’s Janis!” You heard from behind it, your irritation instantly faded and you smiled cheekily, fumbling with the lock and opening the door.

“Jan!” you practically tossed yourself on her, wrapping your arms around her waist then looking up at her, “Hi~”

She laughed, pulling back to get a look at you, her worried brown eyes scanning you, “Hey, sweetie,” You were still in your pajamas and had maker smugged on your face, the sight made her heart melt, “You weren’t at school today, I was worried.”

“I text you, though,” you pouted, not understanding her worry.

Janis chuckled and nodded, “Yes you did! Good job,” she patted your head tenderly, “Can come in?” you nodded eagerly.

“I draw, you wanna?” you asked, guiding her to the coffee table you were sitting at.

“Sure, honey.” she agreed, sitting down next to you criss-cross, and picking up a green marker, coloring in a tree idly. You drew like that in silence for a while, and then she turned to look at your focused face again, “Are you okay?” She was beyond curious to what might’ve caused this regression.

“Yes. Okay.” You nodded absentmindedly. She squinted at you, nose scrunching up for a second, then she relaxed.

“Good,” she looked down at your color page and tapped it with her pointer finger, “This is pretty neato if you ask me.” she grinned and ruffled your hair.

You giggled, “Neato.” You repeated, dragging the world out. She found your amusement endearing.

She set down the marker and nodded, “Yep, want to snuggle and watch TV?” you let out a small ask and nodded eagerly.

“Bluey?”

“Sure, sweetie. Bluey it is.” she stood slowly, gathering up the supplies and putting them away. She knew your parents would get irritated if they were left out, and probably be a little suspicious.

When she returned, you were already curled up comfortably on the couch, clicking the remote till you found what you wanted. She plopped down next to you with a dramatic sigh and you turned your head slightly to look at her and she grinned mischievously.

Suddenly, she scooped you up, and you giggled as she prepared your face with kisses, “Noo, it tickles!” you pushed her face away, and she pouted.

“No kisses?”

“Uh-uh,’ You shook your head, then laid your head on her shoulder, eyes fixated on the screen. You lay like that for a while, Jnais liked this show herself, she wouldn’t admit that out loud but she did, so it was more than tolerable. Especially since she got to spend time with you. She really did like taking care of you or simply just spending time with you when you were in this state, it made her feel almost special the fact you trusted her.

After a while, your voice broke the silence, “Can I have apple juice?” she couldn’t help but smile softly.

“Mhm, I know how my baby loves her apple juice,” she chuckled, “Snack too?” she asked knowingly, sliding you off her lap.

“Yes, pwease!” you gave her a cheeky grin that melted her heart and frankly made her want to squeeze you to death from pure cuteness. She got up to grab you a juice box, herself a glass of water since she was frankly thirsty too, and some goldfish in a bowl.

You were sitting rather politely at the coffee table once again, still staring at the characters dancing across the screen. She set them down, and you hummed out your thanks and drank and snacked. You were suddenly quiet again, but this silence was less peaceful, you seemed tense.

“What’s the matter, little one?” she asked softly, scooting forward to stroke your head.

“I dunno,” you shrugged, picking at your nails, “Mommy and Papa are yelling a lot, I don’t like it,” you mumbled, and her heart clenched, sympathizing deeply.

“It’s okay, it’s not your fault,” she whispered, you perked up at that.

“It’s not?” you sounded unsure.

“Nope, not one bit,” she tapped your nose and your smile reappeared, she loved that smile. She loved seeing your joy. Gosh, you made her such a softy.

After you finished the snacks, she put everything away. You two moved to your bedroom in case your dad came home early, and watched videos on Janis’s phone. She could tell by the way you were rubbing your eyes and the occasional yawn that you were getting tired.

“You wanna sleep, sweetheart?” she asked softly, clicking off your phone.

“Mhm, stay?” you asked, curling up more snuggly against her side.

“Of course, baby.” She smiled, kissing your forehead, watching you fall into some much-needed rest, quick to join you. She was right not to worry, but she knew she would again, after all, she loved you too much not to.

A/N: Low-key got bored, and got a bunch of writing done, expect more fics soon, maybe even another today. Enjoy my first Agere fic, though!

[doodlegraveyard]

Been trying to be more Talky on here because twt sucks and I miss Blogging so I’m gonna talk thru some design WIPS

Working on the winx au- trying to establish Eraklyon vibes. Current criteria is a more cool-temperate climate, inspiration pulled from late medieval/renaissance shapes, as well as certain periods of Kimono and hanbok, scattered Mongolian - the most important thing here is the sense of everything being big and heavy and opulent.

Here is a pass on Queen Samara, trying to reference her canon colors

Going for big and squarish prints and quite showy colors. The crown is somewhat inspired by her canon one but I wanted to make it look more like swept back antlers. My problems with this is that although I’m theming Eraklyon around precious gems, the theme is less light and bright than say-Solaria. I want a vibe of deep colors and mountains and stone. The brightness of this definitely puts it in a fantastical slot, but I’m also worried it almost looks too much like Just a pseudo-ren faire esque costume.

This next pass I decided I wanted to take my colors from some architectural references-actually baroque marble floors with a busy mix of stone in white, black, green, orange, gold. I also more overtly mixed in elements from more of my Asian references. I feel like this could work on Eraklyon, but worn by someone from one of the more Asian inspired culture groups -or maybe Samara could wear it for an occasion, but it��s not what I’m looking for for her default look.

I reworked the original sketch with the architecturally inspired patterns. I think the darker colors vibe better with what I’m imagining for the setting on Eraklyon, but the patterns are a little outlandish and hint at this design not being for a standard fantasy world. I also made her hair a little bigger, like a fusion of the structured hairstyle from the 2nd and the chunky braid. I think it’s neat.

This is just my first pass on things, trying to pin down the vibe. What do you think?

[us3rnam3-r3dact3d]

hiii

u know that drawing u posted of david and darlin in their uniforms w the axes, first of all im still drooling over it

but also what's the meaning behind their tattoos? im especially interested in the snake 👁👁

-🦀

Crab anon!! I’ve missed you!!!

So I’m actually so passionate about Darlin’s tattoos. That’s why their face tattoos made an appearance in the text of the story. The face tattoos are designed to be shitty, scratcher tattoos and for those that aren’t familiar with the term, it refers to tattoos done by unskilled or unliscenced artists. They tend to go too deep into the skin and blow out, go too light and fade quickly, and get infected because of the poor hygienic practices that comes along with not working in a sterile environment.

This is slightly older art of them, and the tattoos have changed a bit, but it works for this demonstration. For the tattoos that Quinn put there, there are three X’s under their left eye, a Q in their right Dimple, and the word “PRECIOUS” over their right eyebrow. In my heart, they have 0903 on their left temple, which they got a week after Gabe died. The scythe and snake on their cheek would come later on. Those are more statistic choices than meaningful ones, but they do like the morbid vibes of having a scythe over Gabe’s death date.

As for the sleeve!! I actually have much better art of it. I sketched out firefighter Darlin and hated every part of it EXCEPT their sleeve. It was my second pass at Darlin’s tattoos and I just love the way that the tattoos came out with the sketch brush I use.

So!! Then burning house!! It’s funny to them as a firefighter to have a burning house tattoo. Just a lil joke for themself. It’s also…. Look have you ever heard that quote “if you grow up with an angry man in your house there will always be an angry man in your house?” That is the vibe they were trying to cultivate with it. They feel like they grew up in a burning house and now they keep running into fires.

The pomegranate!! It didn’t make an appearance in the firefighter uniform drawing, just since it was a less detailed one, but I love it in this one. I like a pomegranate as a nod to Darlin’s canon universe themes. Just… the imagery of pomegranates representing hedonistic pleasure and consumption??? And the ties to Persephone, the Greek goddess of spring who is married to married to Hades, the King of the Underworld. I like the vibes of a dance with death, both tying to their relationships with vampires and their recklessness, which is present in both canon and the au.

I’m gonna be so real with you Crab Anon… the snake was just because it looks cool. I like the idea that the snake being a venomous species native to Washington, sort of like Darlin themself. You can’t see it in this drawing, but the tongue of the spider is wrapped around their middle finger. Despite having a lot of face tattoos, that was their most painful one, getting tattooed in the finger webbing.

This sketch was the origin of the “ALL YOU HAVE IS YOUR FIRE” tattoo I gave to Damien in that one shot I wrote. I think the vibes are great for FFAU Darlin.

Also!! As a note!!! Darlin has knuckle tattoos! They spell “GOOD LUCK.” That was actually Asher’s idea.

So yeah!! There’s all of the meanings!!

[pictomachine]

Elips - studio pencil crayons may 9 2025

A test of your… pencil crayons?

Picked up a dollarama sketch book and set of pencil crayons. They really aren’t too bad for 4 Canadian dollars.

My only complaint about the pencil crayons is they can leave scoring marks and the black paint around them can come off on the paper. But 4 bucks. Not too bad. Like I have no intent to commit to photo realism (it takes too damn long) And I just messed around trying to use each one and then put them back in the box to use them again.

I also wanted a cheap sketch book to mess around in because I can get too precious about materials.

Also pretty much the opposite Elpis colour palette.

[stepswordsen]

【KagePro】 KuroEne Snow Day YCH Commission by Hika 🖤💙🐍🐇

Kuroha (Saeru) and Ene Snow Day YCH Commission by Hika (@/onigiwi2namayo)

Hika's Twitter: (X)

Hika's VGen: (X)

In accordance with Hika's Terms of Service (TOS), editing, using, or reposting these arts, in any way, is prohibited without explicit permission from Hika, and me, the commissioner.

Intro

Ene: I haven't touched snow for a long time, I forgot how cold it could be! (>v<) (*)

(*) = Quote from Feila.

I asked for KuroEne on a Winter Date building a snow bunny together 🐰☃️❄️

I also requested to have an Ene themed bunny snowman with a blue scarf around it 🥰💙

Hika was really nice with minor revision changes. I asked for minor revisions regarding the arrows on his boots, his dot facial markings, and to shift the colour palette more saturated and to use more cool blues for Ene, and more saturated red/purple tones for Kuroha.

I like the visual contrast it creates, with them taking cool and warm tones ^^

I feel so much joy... My skrunklies are so cute! I love seeing them in alt outfits! It's really refreshing~ 💘

I had trouble deciding whether to commission KuroEne or MaryEne for this. Hard decision since they're both cute. So I'll commission MaryEne next time.

Misc Rambles

I'M GONNA SCREAM THEY'RE SO CUTE IN HIKA'S STYLE 🥹🖤💙

WAHHH THEY LOOK SO CUTE 🥺 MY PRECIOUS OTP 🖤 💙

THE COLOURS LOOK PERFECT 💗💞💖

They look like they're having fun 🥰

The colours Hika chose are so good omg… Hika has really good colour coordination. I love her soft colours

Hika's dot lining style is so cute. Works really well for chibis ☺️ Her lining style is so clean. She has such nice colours.

Seeing my beloveds in Hika's style brings me such joy 🫶 💞

I did NOT expect a sketch WIP so soon. I was shocked by the turn around time

My Message

Thank you very much for the lovely commission! My Snow Day commission came out perfect! It's so cute!!! 💙🖤🐍🐰❄️☃️

I love how Hika drew the couple's poses, expressions, and design details. The finished artwork looks so cozy. It makes me so happy! 💗🥰

Hika has an adorable chibi style and great colours.

Hika is very nice and attentive. Very accommodating with the minor revision changes I asked for (detail and colour revisions)

Great communication and makes sure to check in and provide feedback at every stage. Super quick responses and really easy to work with! The delivery was super fast too! 👍

VGen Review

They're so cute in your style! 🥹🖤💙 I love how you did their design details and expressions. Their poses and expressions are adorable! It makes me so happy to see them in your style! I love how the commission turned out! The Snow Day art just looks so cozy ☺️

I love the soft colours you chose! You're really good at harmonizing colours. Thank you for being very accommodating with minor revision changes and incorporating my requests (scarf on the bunny snowman, minor detail and colour revisions) 🙏

Your lining style is so clean and you have such nice colours! You have a great chibi style!

Thank you very much for the lovely commission as always! It came out perfect~ 😭💗🫶✨ Have a nice day!

Commission Rambles

These were the refs I sent.

We were trying to decide between KuroEne and MaryEne at first, so we gathered the MekaDan's winter outfit refs.

Feila suggested to go with the Winter outfits used for the MekaDan chibi keychains by Fujimori (if MaryEne), but to give Kuroha a funny trenchcoat (if KuroEne), cuz he'd look so edgy mysterious that it'd be funny.

I went with KuroEne this time too cuz I really wanted to see them in alt outfits. I can go for winter MaryEne in the future

Since Saeru doesn't have a winter merch outfit, I asked for him to wear a black trench coat (photo ref) with a gray or black scarf, and his regular outfit's headphones, pants, and boots.

Feila imagined winter Kuroha wearing this big trenchcoat. I think it fits him very well 🥰

I always love seeing charas in alt designs (hairstyles and clothing) 🥰 It's nice to see more of their casual clothes. I would love to comm arts of MaryEne's casual outfits (last images). These fits are SOOO cute

Konoha and Saeru's boots have 2 straps with gray squares on them, so I let Hika simplify it based on the Kuroha rubber strap charm that simplifies them to 1 strap instead, due to the tiny feet in the style.

...

F: I lowkey want him to be in theme. I wanna imagine Kuroha in one of these. Do we want Ene to just be bunny themed or winter themed?

Me: Saeru and his snakes, go!!! Kuroha with a funny trench coat it is

F: Ene's definitely the playful type while the snakes are both the calm type so Ene would be the one standing. And I imagine her expression would be >v<

Me: Yeah they would definitely be the ones on their knees helping Ene build the snowman all calm and content~

F: Winter Anthology has both KuroEne and MaryEne. We are so back 💥💥💥

Me: KonoEne too cuz Ene's holding a Konoha-themed snowball

F: Snow day HebiEne (because it's either Mary or Kuroha)

Me: Both KuroEne and MaryEne are Snake x Bunny themed (technically cuz Mary is part Medusa), but MaryEne is a much softer version of it

Me: Mary should wear warmer clothes since she's more affected by the cold

I imagine Ene with her android body in my KuroEne AU isn't as affected cuz her body's heating/cooling system was made by Saeru

Saeru could just use Awakening Eyes to rebuild his body so it isn't as affected by the cold (he could make it so that his body retains heat better than the regular human, if he wanted)

Commission Rambles

Me: I sent this form.

Hika sends frequent updates and checks in at every stage (sketch, finished art with lineart + colours) so she wanted to check in with minor colour revisions with me once the lineart + colours were done.

Saeru originally had a monochrome colour palette (without any coloured tint), and I preferred for his palette to be more saturated and to differentiate the colours from each other more so there's more visual contrast.

So I showed Hika what I'd like the colours to be, and let her adjust the colours to her preferences. I sent this as a colour guide (and marked where they should be, cuz otherwise it'd be unclear)

Hika used my colour suggestions, and then adjusted some colours ^^

F: This is so oddly detailed, but I think it's a good enough guideline :D

F: The purple palette you suggested looks amazing. Even if it's a slight change, it looks and feels more like a calming winter breeze, while the original is an ecstatic wintry vibe

F: Could be so perfect for the retro style… Maybe it could be a little piece of photo that was printed out and Ene holds it dearly like her life depends on it

F: You know, it'd be funny if Ene has a cool tone in contrast while Kuroha has a warm tone in contrast. Could be a little symbolism

Me: Reminds me of my KuroEne kiss doodle from before 🤭🖤💙🫶 I made Ene have more cooler tones while I made Kuroha have more warmer tones for visual contrast reasons.

Red is the colour of blood ❤️ It's a good ref to these shots from Outer Science where he smears blood all over his face

[queenlua]

Prompt: Sanaki and Naesala and... hmm, "aesthetics"

When Sanaki enters the parlor where Naesala's lurking, garbed from head to toe in her new royal regalia, she's not sure how exactly Naesala will react.

But she was expecting something a little less... monosyllabic.

"It looks fine," he says, with an indifferent shrug, glancing up for only a moment from the armchair onto which he's slumped.  Then turns right back to the book he's reading.

Fine.  Just fine, says Naesala, who's constantly mouthing off about the aesthetics of everything in Sienne.  Naesala, who thinks Mainal's narthex is too drab but its side chapel, too precious.  Naesala, who rolls his eyes at the famed columns and great vaulted dome of the ancient temple on Westover Hill ("dated even in its own time," apparently), but sneers at Mainal's redesigned eastern wing as so much modernist pretention ("did your architect run out of gold before he managed to buy a single shred of color?").  Naesala, who paused, the first time he ever entered Sanaki's chambers, just to call the crown molding tacky.

But Sanaki's currently wearing an entirely new wardrobe for conducting royal business, and all he has to say is looks fine.  Really.

For over a year, Sanaki's royal draper, Ariadne, has slaved over the design of this new regalia.  A special assignment, quite possibly the work of Ariadne's lifetime.  Since Sanaki was no longer apostle and empress, but instead serving as empress alone—she needed attire to match.  Something to project her authority, and her unbroken connection to Begnion's past, all the way back to its founding, while also discarding all traces of religiosity, any symbols of the goddess.  "Can you do it?" she'd asked Ariadne, and the woman's eyes had glittered, then.  She'd pushed up her glasses, pulled a pen from her hair, started sketching at once.

Ariadne was good.  The best.  All the ladies at court, and the aesthetes in their forums and parlors, said so.  And Ariadne herself had not even bothered affecting false modesty: "My greatest work yet," she'd said, the day of the unveiling.

All of that, and yet, looks fine is all Naesala says.

That can't be the whole of his opinion.  So Sanaki waits.

And sure enough, after a few minutes, Naesala glances up from his book to ask, "Who's your draper, again?"

"What is it," Sanaki snaps.

"Nothing, nothing."  Naesala laughs.  "Just might have a word with her, is all."

Sanaki waits again.  And after a moment Naesala sighs, rises from him chair, and crosses the room to give Sanaki a looking-over.  He paces around her slowly, pausing at every step to look closer, sometimes reaching out to touch a bit of fabric, rubbing it between his hands, feeling for the thread count.  When he's behind her, he grazes a few fingers down the back of her neck, and then a little ways down her spine, to just above where the back of the dress dips down toward her waist, and hmms warmly.  That detail, at least, he finds fetching enough.

"It's not a bad effort," he says, once he's in front of her again.  He tugs at the adornment on the edge of her sleeves.  "Very... lacey."  Then he sighs, as though finally goaded into honesty: "It's just that it looks a touch grandmotherish, don't you think.  I mean, Nealuchi'd find it charming, I'm sure, but he's not the one you're trying to impress—"

"It's historic," Sanaki sniffs, with renewed confidence.  He's only revealing his own ignorance.  He's not appreciating all the subtleties that Ariadne explained to her: "These buttons," she says, gesturing toward her sleeve, "are from the very same outfit that that Apostle Yilanti wore at her coronation.  They symbolize—"

"Right, see, I remember when your great-grandmother Yilatni was on the throne," Naesala interrupts.  "Back when filigreed plaster was 'in.'  And back when I hadn't yet learned how to out-cheat my cousins at cards.  Tulips were all the rage, everywhere south of Daein.  And you beorc had just come up with that dreadful little instrument that was going to make my ears bleed in every tavern between here and Melior for the next forty years, the one with the little hand-bellows, what's-its-name—"

"The accordion?"

"Yes.  That."  He shudders.  "Would've served better tending to fires.  Or chucked into those fires.  Anyway."  Naesala steps close again, gesturing at one of her sleeves.  "Those brass buttons have the same little insignia on them as the accordions back then did, all from the same awful maker.  Rather tarnishes the effect for me, personally."  He tilts his head.  "That and.. most of the other little flourishes, really."  He frowns.  "The lace especially.  Are you sure about that bit?  Seems rather unlike you."

Dully, Sanaki notes that this is the most tactful she's ever heard him when it comes to aesthetics.  She'd be touched if she weren't so annoyed at it all.

"Fortunately," Naesala drawls, stepping away, "I imagine the median age of your citizenry runs a fair bit younger than all that.  So probably it's fine."  He flashes a patronizing smile: "Since you asked."

And with that, he turns to leave.

For a moment Sanaki just watches him go.  Watches him close the door behind him.

And then she motions for one of her servants to come closer.

"Fetch me Ariadne," she whispers.  "Quickly.  Before that crow gets to her."  A few adjustments wouldn't hurt.  Sanaki had had a few in mind, after all, even before asking Naesala.  She's not changing it because of him, she just—happens to have agreed with one of his points.  A few of his points.

But she'd be putting in the request herself, thank you very much.  No need for any more meddling on his part.

[sergiosimptellitto]

Your smile

ONESHOT — “You’re Smiling”

Based on L’ora di religione / My Mother’s Smile Fix-it fic. Chiara is OC. If you have seen my latest posts you know that I DREADED this movie for the cheating element, also, it was promoted as a big deal religious-wise but there is ZERO discussion around actual faith and the plot is literally non-existent. But if I can say something is that: This man knows how to YEARN at the movie he was a great suitor, so let me fix a few things: In here he is a widower instead of a married man having an affair, which also gives him a valid reason for his agnosticism, clearer than the one stated at the movie. Tune later for my oneshot fixing Franco Elica and the overall mess that his movie was.

Leo had pressed the permission slip to Ernesto’s chest like it was a treasure map.

“Please, Papà? Everyone says religion is fun. Like drawing and talking about God and fire.”

He said fire with a grin — the kind that only seven-year-old boys can summon, that mixture of awe and mischief. In Leo’s imagination, God probably looked like a superhero from a Greek myth — sandals, beard, thunder in His hands.

Ernesto arched a brow. “You want to go to religion class? You?”

Leo nodded with a proud little hop, curls bouncing. “We get to ask questions. She said so!”

“She?”

“The religion lady! She said we can ask anything and we won’t get in trouble.” Then, in a quieter voice, like it was a secret: “She said faith without freedom is fake.”

Ernesto blinked at that. He looked down at the slip. He hadn’t signed anything like this since Leo was in daycare — a form that felt more like an invitation to complicity than parental approval.

“Please, Papà?” Leo’s eyes widened with strategic precision. “I won’t believe anything weird. Just… I wanna go.”

Ernesto sighed theatrically. “Oh no. My son. A little inquisitor.”

Leo giggled, triumphant, and Ernesto signed.

—

That afternoon they walked home, hand in hand. Ernesto’s other hand held Leo’s backpack — which Leo had declared too baby to wear properly, but also too precious to let go of completely. So they took turns. This was their rhythm.

The sidewalk was cracked, like all sidewalks in their Roman suburb — half-ancient, half-unfinished. Leo bounced on the edges of it like he was trying to balance across time. Ernesto didn’t stop him. He just held the hand tighter.

Every few meters, Ernesto stooped and kissed the top of Leo’s head.

He did this constantly, without thinking. At red lights. In elevators. Mid-conversation.

As if love could be stitched in place with each kiss. As if the world might undo Leo unless Ernesto kept reminding it: this one is mine.

He still said ours, sometimes. When no one was listening.

—

Weeks passed. And Leo flourished.

He came home humming songs Ernesto didn’t recognize, drawing pictures of bright-winged angels with fierce eyes and crooked halos. Once, he handed Ernesto a sketch of a whale and a man inside it, reading a book.

“Jonah,” he explained, poking the paper. “But she says it’s not about fish. It’s about people who run from their calling.”

“She said that, huh?”

Leo nodded and tore into his bread like it had answers in the crust.

At first Ernesto resisted asking too many questions. He didn’t want to break the spell. But something about the teacher’s name — Chiara — stuck in his head like a word from a dream.

“She says God made stars for the joy of it,” Leo announced one afternoon over lunch, grinning through a mouthful of mozzarella.

Ernesto, mid-chew, gave him a look. “Did He, now?”

“Yeah! She said even if we never saw them, they’d still be there. Like art.”

Ernesto paused.

That was not what he remembered from his catechism class. His religion teachers had spoken in formulas and conditions. If you’re good, if you obey, if you memorize this prayer. Stars had been mentioned only as points of order — lights God hung in the sky on a particular creation day, like a factory manager pinning deadlines to a bulletin board.

But Leo’s voice carried wonder. Not fear.

“Do you like her?” Ernesto asked, pretending to be casual.

Leo shoved another olive into his mouth. “She smells like cinnamon and speaks like a sword.”

Ernesto blinked.

“She says truth doesn’t need to shout to be sharp,” Leo added with a shrug.

Now Ernesto stared at him. “Are you sure you’re seven?”

Leo laughed, leaning across the table to steal his father’s last tomato slice.

—

Ernesto wasn’t sure what exactly made him go. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe suspicion. Maybe something softer — envy, even — of the way Leo came home filled up with light. Like someone had cracked open the world and poured gold into its lines.

So he came.

To the school. To the classroom with the crucifix over the door, the smell of pencils and dust, the faint murmur of prayer behind closed doors.

He told the secretary he wanted to meet the religion teacher.

“Ah,” she said, nodding toward the hallway. “She’s just finished. Second on the left.”

He hesitated outside the door. Then knocked.

And she opened it, smiling.

“I’m Ernesto,” he added, lingering in the doorway like he might change his mind. “Leo’s father. The heretic.”

She smiled again—slower this time, like a candle flickering into life.

“Heretic?” Her voice carried no judgment, only gentle mischief. “You’re smiling.”

He hadn’t realized he was. It faded a little. “I imagined you differently,” he said, tone dry, almost apologetic.

“Conventional.”

She turned to face him fully, her arms crossed loosely at her waist, like she’d heard that a thousand times and still hadn’t tired of it. The sunlight from the window caught in her hair, and he noticed it wasn’t quite blonde, not quite red—just something bright and alive.

She raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

He blinked.

Risk it, something in him said. Say it like you’d say it to your wife. Say it like you mean it, not like you’re afraid of meaning things.

“Ugly.”

There was a pause—just long enough to feel the weight of the word hang, suspended between them.

Then, softer. Like he wasn’t trying to charm her, but confess something to himself.

“Pure prejudice. Like we think of nuns as ugly. Dutiful. Greying. You know. Suffering through it.”

A beat. Her face remained unreadable, curious more than offended.

He let out a breath. “You’re very beautiful.”

She blinked, as if it had taken her a moment to process the words not because they were rare—but because she didn’t expect them here, from this man.

“Me?” she asked, incredulous, laughing a little.

“Yes,” he said. “Actually, you are whatever goes after ‘gorgeous.’”

That made her still. The corners of her mouth curled upward slightly, but there was a searching in her gaze, like she was trying to figure out whether this was flattery, projection, or something else entirely.

“Why?” she asked, more serious now. “Don’t you believe it?”

Ernesto tilted his head, caught off-guard. “That you’re beautiful?”

She shook her head gently. “That beauty and faith can belong to the same face.”

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I used to.”

There was a silence. Not uncomfortable—more like the space after a good question. Then Chiara said, with quiet conviction:

“God makes all things beautiful in its time.”

He looked at her then—really looked at her.

She went on, a soft breath carrying memory:

“There was this song at my church. Old, clapping rhythm, voices louder than the microphone. It said: See how pretty my Lord is! Nothing equals God’s beauty. Nothing equals His power. Because everything He does—”

“—He does with a reason?” Ernesto offered, instinctively filling in the blank. His voice was dry, skeptical. Like someone who’d once believed that and had the floor fall out from under him.

But Chiara didn’t nod.

She smiled—not sweetly, not triumphantly. Just truthfully.

“No,” she said.

“—With love.”

That stopped him.

With love.

It wasn’t the answer of a doctrine. It was the answer of someone who’d lived it, or tried to. Someone who didn’t need to convince him of it, just needed to say it out loud.

There was something childlike in her certainty. Not naive. Earnest. Defiant. And it made Ernesto feel—just for a moment—like maybe it wasn’t all lost. Like maybe belief wasn’t always about proving something.

He studied her face. She met his eyes, steady.

“I can see why Leo likes you,” he said finally, voice quiet.

She gave him a small, tilted smile. “He’s a fierce little philosopher. And he’s grieving.”

“I know,” Ernesto said. “We both are.”

Something fragile passed between them then. Not attraction—not yet. Recognition. Two people who had walked through fire, and come out with skin, still.

The second time Ernesto went to the school, it wasn’t to pick up Leo. He said it was, to himself, but Leo was at his mother-in-law’s for the weekend and Ernesto knew it. Still, his feet had brought him back. His mind had not stopped turning since their first conversation. Her words kept circling like brushstrokes around a missing canvas.

He wandered the hallway slowly, as if he might run into someone by accident. Voices drifted from the closed door of the headmaster’s office—low at first, then sharper.

“Children have no business seeing a half-dead man with his skin and flesh torn out!”

Chiara’s voice. Clear. Firm.

Ernesto paused, heart picking up like he was overhearing something holy.

“It is tradition,” the director replied, exasperated.

“Torture is not tradition,” Chiara snapped. “Crucifixion is a method of execution designed to humiliate, to destroy the body and the spirit. Would you put up an image of Jesus in an electric chair? A gas chamber? What lesson are we teaching with a bleeding corpse on the wall of a classroom?”

“That’s not what it means! You—do you even understand the nuance, the importance of the crucifixion?”

There was a pause.

“I do,” she said. “Do you?”

The headmaster didn’t answer. Chiara’s voice softened, but it didn’t lose its fire.

“Do you understand what it meant for God—not a symbol, not a metaphor, God—to become flesh, and to be torn apart by an empire? Do you understand what it means that we keep him on the cross, instead of letting him live again?”

“This is not a theology seminar—”

“We keep Jesus broken because we are more comfortable with his pain than with his power. We teach the suffering, but not the resurrection. We teach guilt, not freedom. What are we telling them? That life ends in agony? That death wins?”

The silence that followed was so complete it rang.

“We teach Christ crucified,” the headmaster said stiffly.

Chiara's reply was so calm it made Ernesto shiver.

“We should also teach Christ risen. The way. The truth. The life.”

A door opened. Ernesto ducked slightly around the corner like a schoolboy caught spying. But it was too late.

Chiara stepped into the hallway, expression unreadable—until she saw him.

“You’re back,” she said, not unkindly. There was surprise in her voice, but not suspicion.

He tried to make up a reason, a lie maybe, but nothing came out. Just—

“I overheard.”

She blinked, adjusted her bag on her shoulder. Her eyes were stormier today. Not tired—just... sharpened.

“I take it you don’t like crucifixes.”

“I love what they mean,” she said. “But not what they’ve become.”

Ernesto swallowed.

“You think children should be spared that?”

“I think children should be guided. Not haunted.” She glanced down the hallway. “Faith isn’t about fear. Or spectacle. It’s not about forcing belief through trauma.”

“You sound like a heretic,” he said, watching her.

That got the ghost of a smile. “You sound like you like it.”

“I do,” he said.

There it was. No retreat.

Chiara exhaled, and for a moment Ernesto thought he’d gone too far, or not far enough.

But she said, “Most people avoid me when I talk like that.”

“I paint saints with cigarette burns and sleepless eyes,” Ernesto said. “I’m not most people.”

That earned a full smile this time, quick and disarming.

“Well then, Ernesto,” she said. “Maybe you’re starting to sound like a believer.”

“Saints with cigarette burns?” she asked, half-laughing, half-intrigued.

Ernesto shrugged, scratching the back of his neck like it had only just occurred to him that it might be strange. “It’s what I do. I paint them tired. Hollow-eyed. Lipstick on the rim of a glass. A halo scratched on with biro. You know. Relatable.”

Chiara tilted her head. “You think the saints were glamorous alcoholics?”

“No,” he said. “I think they were exhausted people who didn’t give up.”

That made her pause.

She looked at him again, properly this time. Not as Leo’s father. Not even as the man who called her beautiful in the hallway. But as someone who might’ve touched the edge of her own preoccupation—divinity, brokenness, survival.

“You’re not joking,” she said quietly.

He smiled crookedly. “I’m always joking. Doesn’t mean I’m not serious.”

She nodded, once, then motioned toward the school’s little exit gate. “Do you want a coffee?”

He held up his hands. “I was just about to ask you.”

They walked a block in silence and ended up at a quiet, ugly cafe that Ernesto insisted was the best in the district. He ordered two espressos like it was muscle memory. She thanked him and stirred hers with slow, delicate turns.

“So you don't like crucifixes, but you paint saints with burnout?” she asked again, gently teasing.

“I said I love what they mean,” he replied, “not how they’re used.”

“And the saints?”

He looked at her, brow slightly furrowed. “They’re the only ones who stayed human.”

Chiara smiled to herself. “I think you’d like Saint Teresa.” she mentions, not that she believes in saints, and if she did, not definetely in the one that trafficked children across Asia.

“Oh, the one with the ecstasy statue?”

“Yes, that one.”

“The one Bernini made look like an orgasm.”

She snorted. “That’s not what it is.”

“Sure.”

“It isn’t!”

“Alright.”

“You’re impossible.”

“You’re beautiful.”

She stilled, espresso halfway to her mouth.

“Sorry,” he added, not sorry. “It just comes out.”

Chiara gave him a warning look, but it wasn’t serious. Still, she changed the subject.

“You said something about not liking modern art?”

He exhaled dramatically. “Right. Modern art. Don’t get me started.”

“I already have.”

“Well then,” he leaned back, theatrically, “I’ll say it: it’s all nonsense. Lines, splatters, sculptures that look like kitchen accidents. It’s not art. It’s anti-art.”

Chiara set her cup down. “That’s ridiculous.”

He smiled wider. She was waking up now.

“Modern art was a movement that emerged in response to social crises, not because people forgot how to draw. It was deliberate—revolutionary. A protest against the mechanical reproduction of beauty.”

Ernesto blinked. She’d used at least four syllables more than he expected.

She leaned forward. “Do you know how many women were excluded from traditional galleries? From the academies? From commissions? Abstract art was the first space where women could say: look at this and see me.”

He blinked again.

“And the Futurists,” she continued, “before they got swept up in fascism—were obsessed with speed, dynamism, machinery. It was the first time people asked, what if the soul isn’t static? What if it races? That is profoundly theological.”

Ernesto stared.

She noticed, and softened. “Sorry,” she murmured, a little flushed. “I didn’t mean to lecture you. I just—”

“No, no,” he said, quickly. “It’s...”

Beautiful, he thought.

But not her words. Not her insight. Not her spirited defiance of his shallow hot take.

It was her voice.

It was the way her lips moved when she said “Futurists.” It was the pink flush in her cheeks. It was the shine in her eyes when she spoke with conviction.

He liked that she knew things. He liked that she had a spine. But he didn’t know how to listen.

Chiara, however, believed he had.

And for a second, that belief made her feel... seen.

“You actually care about what I think,” she said softly, almost surprised.

Ernesto tilted his head, smiled again, something sly in his mouth. “Yes,” he said.

He meant: I like watching your mouth move.

She heard: You matter.

Neither of them was entirely right.

But neither of them walked away.

Not yet.

It started with a question, as most things did with Ernesto.

“Oh, hi! Is Leo here?”

Chiara glanced up from her stack of marked drawings. “It’s Thursday. School ends at one.”

“Right, right,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Must be at the playground.”

She nodded. “Probably.”

He lingered. Looked like he was trying to remember something else he came for.

But he never found it.

“See you tomorrow,” she said, without looking up again.

This happened three times that week.

By Friday, even the janitor gave her a look.

“You have a new parent volunteer?” he asked, with a wink.

Chiara rolled her eyes. “He’s just... anxious. About Leo.”

“Mhm.”

On Monday, he came again. No Leo in sight.

Chiara caught him on the stairs. “You do know the way to the playground by now, right?”

“I just thought he might’ve come back inside.”

“He doesn’t have your same devotion to hallway loitering.”

Ernesto laughed, bashful. “You caught me.”

“Did I?”

“Maybe I just like the atmosphere. These tiled walls. That disinfectant smell. Makes a man nostalgic.”

“For what? Detention?”

He gave her that half-smile, half-poem expression again. Like he was crafting a sonnet just behind his eyes. She didn’t know whether to feel flattered or faintly concerned for his health.

By Tuesday, the other teachers had noticed.

In the lounge, during her break, someone passed her a thermos of coffee and said, “Your painter came again.”

“Not my painter,” Chiara muttered, though she took the coffee gratefully.

“He asked for Leo, but it’s always you he looks for first.”

Another teacher chimed in, grinning. “What did he say to you last week? Something about Saturdays?”

Chiara bit down on her laugh, hard. “Oh Lord.”

“No no—tell them!”

She wiped at her eyes, trying not to spill her drink. “He—he called me last Saturday morning. Said he thought maybe we offered weekend courses, because he’d come by and no one was there.”

The whole lounge erupted.

“What did you say?”

“I said—‘It’s Saturday, Ernesto.’ And he just...he sounded so wounded. Like the school betrayed him personally.”

Someone doubled over. “He’s a lost puppy, Chiara.”

“Puppies aren’t that dramatic.”

“Oh, come on,” said the gym teacher, wagging a finger at her. “The man is clearly smitten.”

“Smitten,” Chiara repeated, suspicious of the word.

“It’s cute.”

“It’s persistent.”

“Same thing!”

She smiled, despite herself.

It wasn’t like she didn’t see it. The way his eyes sought hers in the crowd, even when Leo was somewhere else entirely. The way he stood a little straighter when she walked by, like she was sunlight and he hadn’t felt warm in years.

It was funny.

The painter who’d called her beautiful on day one, now pretending to be coincidentally lost near the music room every afternoon.

But it was also…strange.

He knew she was religious. Traditional. Structured, even if she taught revolution. She wasn’t the kind of woman men like him flirted with—messy men with long fingers and haunted eyes who looked like they hadn’t eaten anything that wasn’t espresso and regret in weeks.

And yet.

And yet.

That evening, when she packed up her things and walked out through the side gate, she found him standing by the low wall again. Pretending not to be waiting.

“Let me guess,” she called. “You forgot the way home again?”

He smiled, sheepish. “I was thinking of asking if we could have coffee somewhere less terrible than the teacher’s lounge.”

“And Leo?”

He blinked. “...I’ll call my sister.”

She laughed despite herself.

Not yes.

Not no.

Just—despite herself.

It started the week after she mentioned where she lived.

It was just a passing comment—“Oh, that bus doesn’t go near Monteverde Vecchio.”

To which Ernesto said, “Then I’ll drive you.”

She laughed. Thought it was a joke. Or a one-time act of kindness.

That is what she expected after he picked her up on monday, they chatted, and he opened the door for her, he also waited until she came inside her house.

What a beautiful, sporadic act of kindness, right?

The next afternoon, he was parked in front of the school, leaning on his beat-up Citroën with the windows down like he was in some indie short film.

“Oh. Ernesto,” she said, surprised. “Hi.”

“Hi, dolcezza,” he beamed. “Ready to go?”

“To go?”

He looked around. “You said Monteverde. I’m waiting for you.”

She blinked. “Oh… for me? Again?”

“Of course.”

She hesitated. But it was late. And the bus really didn’t go near her place.

“Okay,” she said slowly. “Just today.”

But it wasn’t just today.

The next day he was there again, leaning on the hood like a teenage boy outside a dance.

And the day after that.

And the day after that.

By Friday, she barely had her bag over her shoulder before a voice called out, cheerful as ever: “Ciao, Chiara bella!”

She walked over, half amused, half exasperated. “Ernesto. You know I can walk.”

“But why would you?”

“Because it’s normal.”

He squinted, baffled. “What’s normal about walking alone when you can sit in my car and tell me stories about Saint Augustine’s mother?”

She shook her head, laughing. “You really are impossible.”

He grinned. “You’ve told me that before. Twice.”

It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy it. The drives were short. Pleasant, even. He had a gentle way of listening, punctuating the silences with curious questions and strange theories about God, art, and Leo’s obsession with snails. But he was always... there. Waiting. Watching. Without ever explicitly saying what he wanted.

The other teachers were noticing again.

“You’ve got a chauffeur now?” the math teacher teased.

“Chiara, I think he’s nesting,” said someone else. “Any day now he’s going to bring you a paintbrush bouquet.”

She ignored them, but inside, she couldn’t shake it.

It wasn’t courtship. Not really.

He never asked her out. Never made a proper move. Just... showed up. Always just for her. Like the decision had been made in private, and she’d somehow agreed without realizing.

On Sunday, her phone buzzed.

Ernesto: *Hey! We’re going to the zoo today. Leo insisted. He wants you to come. We’ll pick you up at 11? :) *

She stared at the message for a long time.

Then typed back: You know you can ask. Like a normal person.

The reply came instantly.

Ernesto: Ask what?

She rolled her eyes. Then, after a moment, added: Never mind. I'll meet you at the zoo.

Because it wasn’t creepy. Not quite. And it wasn’t cute. Not quite. But it was... him.

And that, somehow, was worse.

But not the worst it could get.

She was locking her front gate when she saw it: that dented silver Citroën, idling by the curb like it had nowhere better to be. Inside it, Ernesto was smiling at her like he’d discovered fire.

Her bag dangled midair. “Ernesto?”

“Buongiorno, sunshine,” he chirped.

“What are you doing here?”

“Taking you to work.”

“You—how do you even know where I live?”

“You told me. Monteverde Vecchio, remember? Then last Tuesday you mentioned the yellow building with the cracked step. I’m an artist. I notice things.”

She crossed her arms. “You stalk me with style. I’ll give you that.”

“It’s not stalking if I brought coffee.” He held up two cups. “One is espresso. The other is holy.”

“…Holy?”

“Contains a morally alarming amount of cream and sugar.”

She hesitated, sighed, and got in. “You do know this is still weird, right?”

He handed her the cup without looking. “But charming?”

She didn’t answer.

But she drank the coffee.

“Chiara!” said the headmistress, poking her head into the staff room. “There’s someone here to drop off some supplies for your class.”

Chiara stepped into the hallway.

Ernesto stood there holding a plastic bag, beaming.

“What is that?”

“Paper. Paint. Glitter glue. All the things a good religion class needs.”

“…Since when?”

“Since Leo said you let them paint biblical scenes like comic books. I thought—how radical. How you. I thought I’d help.”

She stared at him. “Ernesto, you know we have a budget for supplies, right?”

He shrugged. “Yes, but mine comes with admiration.”

“And an invoice?”

“No. Just—just maybe coffee later.”

She looked down into the bag. “This is enough glitter to blind a bishop.”

“Then I have succeeded.”

Some days, she’d find folded pieces of paper inside Leo’s homework folder.

“Don’t work too hard today.” “Do you still believe in resurrection?” “What’s your favorite psalm?” “I think God invented your laugh. Not to be forward.”

They weren’t signed. But she always knew.

Once, she sent a note back: “Matthew 6:6.”

When Ernesto got it, he messaged her: "I’ll take the hint. But the door’s always open."

She didn’t reply.

But the next day, he was there. With Leo. With a red umbrella. With that look that said he didn’t think he was doing anything strange at all.

And maybe that was the strangest part.

Chiara glanced at the schedule. Leo - Ernesto: Parent-teacher meeting, 5 minutes.

She wasn’t expecting anyone to show.

But there he was. Early. Coat off. A notebook in hand like he was meeting the Pope.

“Ernesto,” she blinked. “You came?”

“Of course.”

“This was just an optional check-in for first semester—”

“And I’m checking in.”

“You already talk to me more than Leo does.”

He sat down anyway. “Humor me.”

She folded her hands. “Leo is kind. He shares. He’s curious. He’s stubborn, but honest. He asks difficult questions and doesn’t always like the answers.”

He tilted his head. “Sounds familiar.”

She narrowed her eyes. “This isn’t your performance review.”

“Isn’t it?”

There was a silence.

He tapped his pen twice. “Chiara.”

“What?”

"When do you finish?"

"In...around one hour."

"I'll wait for you. Let me take you home."

"Are you sure? It may last longer." The teacher said, it was not unusual to have problematic parents that would not leave.

"Then I will wait longer, Leo is having a sleepover."

"...do not say I did not warn you."

The meeting delayed.

Not one hour, two and a half.

And he waited for her, even when the sun set, even when the clouds went gray and the air started to smell humid.

She went out when the droplets of rain were already pouring generously, he went to meet her at the entrance door using his coat to shield her from the rain until they reached the car.

She watched the street glide past, then said, airily: “Don’t wait for me tomorrow.”

He blinked. “Tomorrow?”

“I’ve got plans.”

“Oh?” He tried for neutral. Failed. “With…?”

She glanced out the window, deliberately casual. “José.”

“José,” he repeated.

“Mhm. Dinner.”

A beat.

He gave a tight smile, eyes fixed on the road. “Nice. Spanish?”

“Colombian, I think. Or maybe Italian—on mom’s side.”

“Right.”

The rest of the ride passed in silence. Not unfriendly, but taut.

She bit back a grin. It was just a test. A nudge.

Let’s see how you actually feel, Ernesto.

Saturday night, Trastevere.

The restaurant was warm, candlelit, slightly too crowded.

Chiara sat with her back to the entrance, swirling water in her glass, when Josephine waddled in, round-bellied and radiant.

“Still vertical,” Josephine sighed, collapsing into the seat across from her.

“Barely,” Chiara smiled. “You’re glowing.”

“That’s just sweat and regret. Remind me not to get pregnant in May next time.”

They were only halfway through antipasti when Chiara noticed him.

Standing near the bar. Frozen in the entryway like he’d wandered onto the wrong stage.

She didn’t flinch.

Didn’t smile, either.

Just raised her hand, as if greeting someone she hadn’t caught spying.

“Ernesto!”

He startled.

Looked like he’d considered fleeing.

But instead he walked—slowly, stiffly—toward her.

“Oh,” she said innocently. “What a coincidence.”

He didn’t speak at first. Just looked between her and Josephine, jaw tense.

“Chiara,” he said at last. “Evening.”

“Out by yourself?”

“I… was nearby.”

“In Trastevere. On a Saturday night.”

He hesitated. “I like the atmosphere.”

Josephine arched an eyebrow and whispered loudly, “Is this the famous painter?”

Chiara grinned. “Yes. The very one.”

Josephine stood awkwardly to shake his hand over her belly. “I’m José.”

He blinked. “You’re—?”

“Josephine. But she calls me José when I start talking too much.”

Chiara smiled sweetly. “I told you I had dinner with José.”

Ernesto looked like he’d just been pushed off a cliff.

“I see.”

“You were jealous,” Josephine said, too bluntly.

“No,” Ernesto said, too quickly.

Chiara tilted her head. “You ‘happened’ to be here?”

He opened his mouth. Closed it again.

She reached out and took his hand, gently. “Sit. Eat with us.”

He stared at their joined hands like it was a sacrament.

“I wasn’t—jealous,” he mumbled, sitting down. “I was just… surprised.”

“By what?” Chiara asked.

“That you’d go out. On a date.”

“With someone who isn’t you?”

His eyes lifted to hers, vulnerable and cornered.

She didn’t look away.

Josephine raised her glass and grinned. “Well, this just got fun.”

After dinner, the streets of Trastevere were slick with mist, the cobblestones glowing under the streetlamps like melted gold. Laughter echoed from trattorias. Someone was playing accordion near Piazza Trilussa.

Chiara and Josephine stood outside under the canopy, buttoning coats and saying their long goodbyes.

Ernesto hovered nearby like a ghost.

“You okay?” Josephine asked, loud enough for him to hear.

“I’m perfect,” Chiara said, with the kind of smile only women with a sense of control ever wear.

Ernesto looked up then. Like he’d heard a language he didn’t speak anymore.

Josephine leaned in and whispered in Chiara’s ear, “He’s in love with you. Like...pitiably.”

“I know.”

“You gonna let him keep tailing you like a sad greyhound or you gonna put the poor bastard out of his misery?”

Chiara tucked her hair behind her ear, suppressing a smile. “We’ll see.”

He turned to Chiara as if unsure what role he was meant to play next. Lover? Friend? Failed romantic spy?

“Lovely night,” she said, clasping her hands behind her back.

He looked wrecked. Quiet. That tragic softness she was beginning to associate with him entirely—wet man, dry wit, hurricane heart.

She almost wanted to shake him.

“So,” she said, half-teasing, “would you like to confess your sins or should I guess them?”

He shoved his hands into his pockets. “You were beautiful in there.”

She tilted her head. “So were you. In a... ‘found my ex’s engagement photo’ kind of way.”

He half-laughed, then shook his head.

“Chiara,” he said quietly, “I’m not good at this.”

“I know.”

“I want—” He bit his tongue.

She watched him for a moment, then walked slowly past him toward the curb.

“I’ll meet you at the car,” he said, voice low.

She paused just long enough to make him think she wouldn’t come.

Then kept walking.

Inside the car, it was warm. Silent.

The city blinked by in yellow streaks and neon signs. Rome always looked older in the rain, like it was remembering things.

He parked in front of her apartment. Turned off the engine.

She moved to undo her seatbelt, but didn’t. Instead, she turned toward him.

“You didn’t have to follow me,” she said gently.

“I wasn’t following you.”

“You were in the doorway like a lost pilgrim.”

His smile came slow. Tired. “I’m not sure I ever left.”

A pause.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he admitted. “I just… want to be where you are.”

“That’s not a plan, Ernesto. That’s a weather pattern.”

He huffed a laugh, rubbed his face. Then leaned in—so hesitantly, she could’ve stopped him with a breath.

But she didn’t.

His lips brushed hers like a question he didn’t dare ask out loud.

When he pulled back, it was with the stunned expression of a man who had just touched something holy.

“Goodnight, caro,” she said softly, amused and fond.

He blinked, trying not to smile. “Goodnight, bellissima.”

And for once, he didn’t wait. Didn’t linger. He just stepped out into the night and let her go.

Until tomorrow.

Of course.

Until tomorrow.

[quibbs126]

so I heard that you allow oc x canon fankids.. so erm, would you mind making a fankid for my oc Sour Butter Cookie and Dark Choco cookie?? no pressure though!

Sour Butter (they/them) was raised in the St. Pastry Order along with Pastry Cookie, however, after seeing the true intentions of the order and seeing the manipulation and indoctrination of young cookies by the order, they decided to leave the order in secret. They tried to convince Pastry Cookie to come with them, but Pastry Cookie wanted them to stay in the order together, so Sour Butter had no choice but to leave without her. Sour Butter Cookie now runs a "church" that serves as some sort of hospital and refuge for cookies, devoting themselves to helping cookies that feel under the false teachings of the St.Pastry Order. I ship them with Dark Choco bc they both are my precious little blorbos🥺🥺

I finished faster than I normally do, but here’s Butter Fudge Cookie

Okay, so I have to admit right off the bat, I didn’t really know anything about Sour Butter when I went to make her. I know I like the pictures, and I try to keep up to date with the designs if I know the artist who made them, but I don’t usually take the time to read them, I’m sorry. All I really knew was they were connected to the St Pastry but weren’t part of it, and the pictures gave me shady vibes

Also note for others that this is true of basically every OC that gets requested. I usually either have only seen them in the ask or I’ve haven’t taken the time to read their descriptions. Pretty much all I know about them is what is provided in the ask, so if the ask doesn’t have a description, I am only operating off of vibes from the design. And sometimes I don’t realize the asks have a description attached until I’m done. Sorry about that

Anyways, I got to the ask to post her, and I saw Sour Butter had a short blurb attached, and when I went and reread that I realized her vibe didn’t match, so I did a quick change of her character to better match. And also slight design tweak

Anyways, so on to Butter Fudge, so she lives in the church with her parents. She can be sweet and help out around the place, but also she can be a bit mischievous sometimes. Ever since she was a kid, she knew her parents and those around her consider her cute, and she sometimes will use that to either get away with things or do stuff she isn’t really supposed to. She usually doesn’t get herself into too serious of messes, but know that there may be shenanigans you didn’t sign up for if you engage with her

I’d say she’s somewhere in her teenage years right now. She’s not a kid (because I didn’t design her that way), but she isn’t entirely old enough to realize she probably shouldn’t use her charms to get her way

She visits her grandpa on occasions and she dresses more Dark Cacaoian since she just likes their style

Anyways, that’s about it for Butter Fudge. It’s not really much, but she’s got some character

Now on to her name. I don’t entirely know what butter fudge (or more accurately it seems, cookie butter fudge) is, but it was because of the two parts of the names. I wanted something that incorporates both chocolate and butter, and I remembered “oh yeah, fudge is commonly associated with chocolate, maybe there’s some kind of butter fudge” and lo and behold. Also, it’s a light brown color, which I thought was a good in between

Cookie butter fudge:

So I'm gonna be honest, I'm not too sure about her hair. It was what was giving me trouble in the rough sketch up top left, and all I really had was "symmetrical, but also not all over the place". Maybe she needs longer hair or something, I'm not sure. I think it looks better in the little sketch though

To be honest, there isn't really much to say on the design front. She has browns because the fudge was light brown and it works with it. She has squares because fudge is square shaped

I do wonder if maybe she should have had some contrasting color somewhere, since her design is pretty much all shades of brown/orange, but I don't know where or what. She did originally have some light blues from Sour Butter, but I thought the yellows worked better

Overall I think her design's fine, it works. Though I do feel like she doesn't live up to the bangers that are some of my other OC x canon fankids

And yeah, that's Butter Fudge, I hope you enjoy her