Sailor Moon Skylines

NAMI PHOTOCARD 🍊💰🐱

[ What's the next character that deserves a photocard in this style? I think I'll stick with casual clothes in this series (≧▽≦) ]

Shares are appreciated 💖

Ah this series is totally cute if anybody wants more familial/platonic works!!!! The author’s other works are equally as good as well

Hybrid 141 As Parents - Foster Human Child!Reader (Part 10)

"Did you make the water too hot?" Kyle asked as soon as you stepped out of the bathroom, clean and dressed in fresh clothes after sweating all over yourself and Johnny. His eyes dilated briefly as he took in your softened appearance after the shower, his wings and talons twitching subtly, but he remained still.

"No...? I think... just warm...?" You mumble, shruging quietly.

"Okay, okay, good... can't be turning the water on too hot when you have a fever now, can we?" He rumbles, rounding your smaller body for a bit.

"It's not... it's really not that high of a fever..." You mumble shyly, keeping your eyes anywhere but on the Harpy.

"Nonsense." He croons quietly, his wing gently pushing you forward. "Are you still hungry, baby?"

"N-No..., no, thanks, I'm full...."

Which, you actually were. Sure, you didn't eat barely enough for hybrid standards, but you're human, and you're small... it was enough for you. Besides, John's bean and bacon soup was really good. You're pretty sure you ate even more than usual (even if it was mostly liquid).

"Good. But really, if you need anything, just tell us, yeah?" He smiles with that gentle tone of voice, like he couldn't hurt a fly, and....

Yeah, this guy was weird. Not that you would call Kyle outright fake, but... the wolf in sheep's clothing thing is very real.

You heard how he talks to his mates when you're 'not around'. But with you? It's just those weird, bird-like, cooey noises mixed with his gentle voice.

"Kyle, come 'ere." Simon's gruff tone came from behind you, the Wraith approaching you both with a raised brow and analytical eyes. "What's up with your wings?"

Kyle's face immediatly dropped, eyes squinting in annoyance as he turned to stare at his mate. That gave you the opportunity to see his wings for yourself, and... yeah, they looked a little messy, kinda.

"Nothing, hun. Why do you ask?"

Oh... oh, this sarcastic and sassy tone, accompanied by this fake, sweet smile, was definetly more up to Kyle's alley. So much, in fact, that Simon barely reacted besides a small impavient grunt.

"All unkept. Not like ya, bird." Then, his eyes fall on you, making you tense up a little in attetion. "Sick chick causing you stress?"

"Ugh, Si..." Kyle grumbles, frowning in displeasure. "I'm busy right now, so-"

"No, none of that." The wraith interrupts, walking over to the two of you before easily picking you up on his arms, a small squeak leaving your lips in surprise. "Go take care of them. Some nice an' good preaning, yeah? Call Price to help. Can't have you like this now, can we, bird?"

He drawls his words so slowly and paciently, it makes you think this man really have experience with children. It makes you want to do anything he says too, but this is probably just your feelings since Kyle's expression was pretty much one of displeasure, uncertainty and annoyance.

"The chick-"

"The chick's with me. And she's going to stay with me the whole time. No need to worry. I'll keep 'er safe an' healthy."

You flush slightly as he press your cheek against his, the slight stubble on his cheek scratching against your smooth one. Tho, you do calm down a bit as you feel his cool skin against your warm face.

"Hmm.... it's not worse. Actually, it feels like it has gone down a bit. You can go, Kyle."

It's not the tone, but his words seem almost... harsh. Not that Kyle seemed to mind. He just sighed in defeat with a small nod of his head as he retreated to the bathroom.

You watched as he went, eyes fixed on his wings. It was mostly curiosity that made you want to know more about Harpies, but you can't deny they were so freaking impressive. Big and beautiful wings, a tail that matched the pretty feathers on the wings. The shiny, black talons were just as pretty as they were intimidating.

"His wings are pretty, ain' they?"

You startle a little at Simon's voice, turning to stare at him properly as he carried you through the hallway.

"Harpies pride themselves in having those pretty and polished feathers.... Actually, their lives are their wings, really. They are always making sure they are in perfect state, both in health and in apperance..." He sides eye you carefully before speaking again. "Unless, something more important is taking their time."

"I-important...??" You question immediatly, flustered and surprised. "I... no..."

"Yes, kid. You're important to him. To us. You're our kid now, you know that."

"I'm... I'm just a foster... not really a..." You struggled to say more, not quite brave enough to outright disagree with your foster parent, but not really agreeing with his exaggerated words.

"But you're part of our pack now, kid. Even if you're a foster for now."

You just sigh slightly at his words, seeing this is taking you no where. Maybe that's just how it is with hybrids...

Wait, what did he say?

"W-wha... what do you mean, for no-"

"The point is, Harpies are a very parental species." He says easily, ignoring your small, indignated words as he keeps talking. You, of course, immediatly shut up despite your surprise. "So Kyle can get pretty stressed when there's a new addition to the nest."

He stops to analyze you for a second before ressuming his walk once again.

"Such a small, defenseless little thing too..." He grunts, his buff arms tightening around you a little more. "No wonder it's messin' with everyone's intincts. You're sleepin' in the pack's nest tonight."

Your eyes widen immediatly, caught off guard. Simon has managed to throw you for a loop at least four times since this conversation began.

"Pack's nest...?" You try to question quietly, clearly alarmed, but not wanting to sound disrespectful or rude.

God knows sounding or looking rude to your foster parents never end up in good things. Even your small act of not unpacking your backpack has caused comotion in an old foster house you used to stay at.

"Yes, kid. Pack's nest. Gonna be sleepin' with us, where we can keep an eye on ya and be there if you need help."

"B-because I'm sick...?"

He nods calmly, finally reaching the door to his room and pushing it open for you to look inside. It’s the room closest to yours—the master bedroom. You remember thinking it should have been where your room was. After all, what kind of house puts the children’s bedroom at the very end of the hallway?

Still, their bedroom was stunning. Spacious, with a massive nest carved into the ground at its center. The mattress inside looked both sturdy and soft, layered with neatly arranged blankets and pillows. Unlike your pastel-toned room, it wasn’t bursting with color, but it wasn’t dull either. The decor featured earthy and beige tones mingled with blacks and reds, visible in the furniture.

Very... modern and stylish.

"This is where ya'll sleep."

You nodded a little, brows still slightly furred. Maybe in worry, maybe a bit in fear. You weren't used to all of this.

"Right..., sleep... with you four...?"

"Yeah, kid." He nods, rubbing your back carefully to try and confort you. "What do you take us for? Neglectful parents? To leave our baby away from us when they're sick and weak?"

Okay, now he sounded more offended than calm.

"It's... normal, isn't it...?" You mumble, a little confused. "Otherwise... you could get sick too... sometimes..."

He scoffed at your words, shaking his head.

"Us? Getting sick from a human virus? If our immune system was that weak, we’d have died long ago eating those mystery rations during the Outpost Beta mission."

You raise a brow at his deadpan words, expression pinching in confusion and worry as the silence stretches between you two for a few heavy seconds.

"That was a joke."

"Uhum..." You hummed lightly, expression not changing much.

"What I mean is, we’re not getting sick, don’t worry, kid. And maybe it’s normal in human households to leave their children on their own when they’re sick, but that’s not how we do things here."

You quickly notice faint wisps of shadow curling from his gloved hands and masked face, the white of his eyes darkening to an ominous shade. A literal chill runs down your spine as the temperature around you drops. It makes you freeze in uncertainty in his arms, eyes wide as you stare into those shadowy, unrecognizable eyes.

Thankfully, it doesn’t take long for him to recompose himself. You’re not sure what triggered this, but he seems to calm down relatively quickly. The shadowy wisps started to dissipate, and his eyes gradually returned to their normal color too.

"Well, come on now. John wants to check on your condition." He says calmly, like he didn't just lose control for a few seconds there, turning to walk all the way back and down the stairs with you still on his arms.

You really should learn more about them. Like, quickly, cuz all these surprises are making you light-headed.

Move over Marco it’s whitebeard pirates christmas one shot time

Japes and Jubilations, Pt 4

The Sanctity of Sacred Spaces Masterlist

The various antics of the crews and the various ways you’re involved in it.

(Part 1) | (Part 2) | (Part 3) | YOU ARE HERE

Part 4: Pillow Fort

The crew finds out about your sleeping habits.

You snorted awake as a frightened yelp of your name roused from your slumber. A hand around your ankle was all the warning you had before you were tugged out of the comfortable darkness you were under.

“What were you doing?” Slick asked, his and Boost staring down at you.

Head full of sleepy cotton, you sat up with a yawn. “Napping.”

“Holy shit, what if those things collapse with you underneath?” he wheezed, an arm thrown out to the bolts of fabric leaned up against each other in a shoddy tent.

You wisely chose not to mention how many times you’ve had to wiggle out of that exact situation. And the bruises that would inevitably form after being pinned by rolls of unyielding fabrics.

“That’s so dumb…” Slick sighed, ignoring your affronted ‘hey!’

It was also a good way to de-stress, the sound and light dampening effects helping you cut off from the world. And you told him so.

“You should just build a pillow fort, then!” Slick harangued. “Instead of scaring us half to death!”

You blinked. “What’s a pillow fort?”

They stared at you like you grew a second head. “You… don’t know what a pillow fort is…?” Boost asked.

Their strange reactions made you defensive as you stood up and crossed your arms. “If you guys are going to be weird about it, then just go away.”

Boost quickly shook his head, denying that. “No! No! It’s not that. We’re just surprised, that’s all!”

Shrugging, you waved them off. “I’m not sure what the importance of this ‘pillow fort’ is. If you don’t mind, I’m going to go back to sleep.”

You caught onto Slick the moment an idea went off in his head, resigning yourself to your fate as the dark-haired male grabbed your wrist and dragged you with him. “No! I have a better idea that won’t risk you being suffocated.”

Boost shot you an apologetic look as he went along with his best friend, shutting your workshop door behind him.

The three of you tromped through the Tang’s halls, with the tallest in the lead, looking for something specific. Slick didn’t stop until he saw Law passing by, absorbed in his documents.

“Cap’n!” he called, halting the man in his tracks.

Law stopped, humming to show that you all had his attention, but never lifting his eyes from the files in his hands. “What is it?”

You were presented in front of him like a guilty party, your name uttered out by Slick. “—doesn’t know what a pillow fort is.”

Law glanced at you and slowly raised a single, dark eyebrow. “And? What is the reason for telling me this?”

Slick’s eyes gleamed as he leaned forward. “The common room’s free for a while, right?”

“Yes.”

“And what about the crew duties?”

“Well…” Law drawled, pretending to ponder over a schedule that you all knew he had memorized. He shuffled the paper in his hands a bit, like a teasing bastard. “Nothing out of the ordinary for today. It’s actually a lighter day, so night shift should be done early.”

Slick’s wide grin grew even wider. “Perfect… Captain…”

Law held up a tattooed hand. “Do as you want. Don’t let it get in the way of your duties, don’t mess anything up, and put things back the way they were.”

The arm in Slick’s hold was yanked up along as he threw his up in victory. “Yes! Thanks, Cap’n! C’mon, we gotta start it early.”

“Start what early?” The plaintive voice of your navigation officer asked.

Slick turned his excited grin on Bepo, tugging you forward. And finally releasing your wrist to put his hands on your shoulders. He shook you back and forth, as if you were a rattle and not a senior officer twice his experience. “We’re going to build a pillow fort!”

 Bepo tilted his head. “Oh, is this a team-building exercise? Can I help?”

“The more, the merrier,” Boost said, with the knowledge of someone who’d spent years accompanying Slick in his antics. “Slick usually makes them pretty big, so it’d be nice to have some help if we don’t want to spend all night on it.”

Bepo’s eyes glittered at that, and you knew it was inevitable that most if not all the crew would get wind of this as the mink sped off. And it was true, the air of the Polar Tang taking on a fervent energy at the thought of a new, exciting event. You had to admit, there wasn’t much to do outside of chores on the submarine, and when the underwater stints were weeks long, it really exhausted all sources of entertainment available. So you couldn’t blame everyone for being worked up at the Captain’s go-ahead.

“Yo.” Shachi popped into the workshop, the redhead stepping in to lift one of the bolts of fabric that you could spare (at Slick’s insistence and the promise to roll them all up later). He paused as he passed by you, leaving space for Uni as he too moved about in your workshop. The redhead’s gaze felt sharp and assessing beneath his glasses, and you blinked, relying on your old, hated training not to shift nervously and give anything away. “You alright with all of this? 

The unexpected kindness threw you for a loop, and you broke your composure, eyes widening. “I—Uh…”

“If it’s too much, let me know right now, and Peng and I will tell everyone to pack it up.”

His concern warmed your heart even after so long with the crew, and you gave him a close-lipped smile. “It’s fine, Shach’. I’m just… It’s kind of exciting.”

It embarrassed you to say that, but it was true.

Shachi’s face broke into a broad grin at that admission, shooting you a thumbs up. “Don’t worry, then. We’ll make sure this is the best blanket fort you’ll ever have.”

Somehow, miraculously through the power of very careful maneuvering, lots of squabbling, and two unrolled bolts of the largest fabrics and what you think was all the blankets and pillows possibly on the Tang, the recreational space became a massive fabric structure that every single one of your nakama could fit under in comfort. Even the tallest ones, should they choose to partake, had a space for them. It wasn’t surprising that the thing got built (not with those like Ikkaku and Morsa helping), more so that everyone wanted to participate and wanted to join in on this silly little escapade that only happened because you had revealed an embarrassing facet about your childhood (or lack of). Of course, not everyone was present, as there were those who still had to go through their shifts. But they would come when their shift ended and someone else’s began. But not you for tonight.

Because tonight, you’d get the joy of experiencing your first ‘pillow fort’.

You couldn’t believe it. Full-grown pirates, led by the most fearsome surgeon of the seas. And there you all were, piled into a pillow fort of all things.

“So?” Slick prompted in a whisper, picking his head up to look at you from where he was. “How’s your first pillow fort?”

You hummed, feeling the gentle rise and fall of Bepo’s bulk behind you. Uni, already in his sleep, tossed a leg over you, the long limb pinning both you and Clione down under it. “It’s nice,” you said simply.

Law’s gravelly brogue rumbled over the space, a little grumpy after Bepo corralled him into the space. “Go to sleep, you two.”

In the dark, you smile gently up at the canopy above you.

Slick had a satisfied look on his face as he shot you a final smile before lying down. Unbeknownst to you, he exchanged a victorious fist bump with Boost for giving their dear tailor one more experience to cherish.

these are thumbnail sketches

i wanted to practice colors and thumbnailing

It's him.

Rules

-I will take requests for exclusively x reader content

-Characters of all ages are permitted for platonic requests, characters 13+ are permitted for romantic requests, and characters 18+ are permitted for sexual requests

-I will be pickier with what NSFW requests I take on. If I refuse a request, don't take it personally! I just have highly specific tastes

-No yandere content

-Please be patient! I am one person who has a lot going on in his life. Unless I outright refuse your request, it is likely in my WIP doc and will be finished eventually

-Please make sure I have requests open before you request anything

old art from 2021 that i still like! this is a comfort series for me

snapshots. [—chilchuck tims]

TAGS / WARNINGS: gender neutral reader, modern au,       minor pining, background marcille/falin WC: 1,000 NOTE: divorced father of 3 save me... save me       divorced father of 3...

✗ MINORS / AGELESS / BLANK BLOGS DNI.

“Move over.”

Chilchuck’s voice startles you. The bowl in his hands is steaming: a hearty stew made with Falin and Marcille’s collective effort—(“Senshi’s tried and true recipe!”). A thick slice of bread perches on its rim. It smells just as heavenly as it did at dinner.

“Here?” you ask, stupefied. The armchair you’ve claimed is wide; there’s easily enough space to fit a Chilchuck-sized person, but your mind jumps—unbidden—to the reason he’d been late in the first place.

“Where else?” He nudges you with his knee. “As if I’m gonna sit near that love-fest over there.”

“You’re not welcome anyways,” Marcille tuts, midway through dipping the maraschino cherry from her sundae into Falin’s mouth.

“This is my apartment!”

You concede with a laugh: it’s just your bruised heart working overtime. The moment his body settles, shoulders touching, you stop being able to taste the ice cream Laios had scooped into your bowl. Existence narrowing to that point of contact with a familiar little rush.

It’s Laios’ turn to choose tonight’s movie, much to Marcille’s dismay—(“A documentary classifies! This is a really interesting one!”)—and he scrolls to find it as Chilchuck digs into his food.

Midway through, you engage him in a thrilling mock-battle of fencing spoons. Falin dozes, lulled from the careful stroke of Marcille’s fingers through her hair. By the time the credits roll, they’re folded onto each other, soft snores drowned out by music.

“They fell asleep again,” Chilchuck drawls, chin cushioned against his hand.

“Must be crashing after all that sugar,” Laios suggests, drapes a blanket over them.

“They were pretty high energy tonight. Eager to hear about how Chilchuck’s date went, I guess,” you tease, taking up the mantle with Marcille fast asleep. “You didn’t even tell us her name.” Keeping the tone casual despite the haunting little pit in your stomach.

(It’d been a shock to hear about it: for as long as you’ve known him, Chilchuck has been eager to keep his life private—even from long-time friends. And there’d been no signs of anyone—except you and your little group—coveting his time and attention; no extra, unexplained toothbrushes, no brands you don’t recognize in his pantry, no missed get-togethers.)

“Huh?” He gives you a look, confusion twisted in his features. The TV’s light illuminates a silver hair. “I wasn’t with any girl.”

Your brow furrows. “…His name? Their name?”

Chilchuck stares. This close—where the minuscule twitches in his expression are noticeable—it’s strangely evaluating.

“You know Marcille was joking when she said it was a date, right?” Heat sears along your cheekbones; embarrassment flushing hot under his gaze—the realization of your mistake.

“Of course I knew,” you say stupidly. Chilchuck’s eyebrow quirks. “Shut up. Don’t look at me like that.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Well, then if it wasn’t a date, who were you with?”

“Senshi,” he says. “He was—we, uh,” his eyes slide off to the side, “I asked him for a favor.”

“Oh?” you hum, relief and mirth creating a warm hum behind your ribs. “Looking to get a side hustle as a cook?”

“Not even close,” he grunts, looking away.

“Should we start calling you our little master chef?” You nudge him with a grin.

“Chilchuck is already quite good at cooking,” Laios pipes up without taking his eyes off the screen. “Maybe he’ll learn to make something else after mastering ramen.”

“Hey—”

“Ramen?” you ask, head tilting. “Like, the instant kind?”

Chilchuck splutters. “No!”

“From scratch!” Laios beams. “Senshi’s said he’s been making really good progress since his first day.”

“Oh?” you grin. “Our little master chef is gonna open a ramen shop?”

“Shut up. No way. Not ever,” Chilchuck grumbles, the high curve of his ear a soft pink.

“I hope you’ll make it for us one day—I love ramen,” you say. “Very tedious, though, so I’ve never done it myself.”

His face scrunches, mouth pursing together like he wants to speak, but doesn’t. His cheeks puff with air, releasing as a long, quiet sigh.

“Oh, hey, so after ramen”—you lean a hand on the chair’s opposite arm, boxing him in with a cheeky little smile—“you should look into French onion soup. It’s probably easier than ramen but caramelizing the onions takes so long—”

“You—!” he leans back, shoulders tense and eyes wide. “Don’t go making requests before I’ve even cooked anything decent.”

“Why not? I bet it’ll be great! You’re good with your hands, so soup is probably a piece of cake for you.” You watch—with no small amount of pleasure—as Chilchuck’s face flushes with vivid color.

“Get away from me,” he mumbles, but his tone is so insincere all you do is laugh. He knocks a loose fist against the inside of your elbow. A surprised noise jumps out; you retreat back against the chair, rubbing the spot.

“Mmh?” Marcille rouses with a sleepy hum. “What’re you requestin’?”

“Chilchuck is making us ramen,” you joke, relishing the way he knocks an admonishing leg against yours. “He’s our little master chef.”

“Oh, yeah. Did Laios end up spilling the beans?” Marcille yawns. Falin stirs, eyes fluttering. “Congratulations, you two.”

Chilchuck goes stiff beside you. “What do you mean?” you ask.

Marcille pauses, head tilting with a drowsy look of confusion. “Huh? Didn’t you ask why he’s learning to make it?” she asks. Falin tugs her sleeve.

You blink. “No. Should I have?” Marcille doesn’t respond right away, head bent to put an ear by Falin’s mouth, expression pinched as they whisper. Then, with a sigh, she reaches up to stretch.

“No. Never mind. Forget I said anything.” Laios is quick to grab her attention.

“Hey, so are you actually opening a ramen shop?” you whisper to Chilchuck.

“You’re such an airhead,” he grunts against his palm.

“I’m great,” you reply. His eyes meet yours, holding your gaze. When next he speaks, his voice is soft—acquiescing easily to your jest.

“Guess you are.”