HEY GUYS! I’m alive! Sorry for the long absence life’s been hecting and I’ve been focusing more on my non agere art. I haven’t abandoned this account though and I do have some more art ideas. Anyway, agere commission for @kain-achilles Their OC with Makarov from Fairy Tail as their caregiver. Commissions are always open if you are interest in my art feel free to DM me and ask ✨
I'm older than most people here (26), and before agere was a well known thing, the only thing available online that was similar to agere were the abdl and cgl communities, so I can say that there was once a time I identified as part of them.
I made some friends from those communities back in the day. Most of the people there are pretty chill and I don't think it's fair to satanize them, though I do believe Abdl/cgl and the agere community must be kept strictly separated.
GUYS GUYS GUYS LOOKIT! I found a Pokeshop today and when I entered to look around out of curiosity I found this cute shiny Celebi! She means so much to me since she plays a major part in my favorite Pokemon game ever. I had to buy her!
I know I've been really innactive but I've had so much work lately. Hopefully I will post more stuff soon.
Vaggie notices her big bro Angel is upset after Val was being a jerk so she draws him a drawing to cheer him up
Such a cute idea; it was so fun to write ❤️❤️❤️. I myself use making things (name,y drawings or baking) as a love language, so this was so sweet to me. I hope you like it too, and thanks for the request!
SFW AGE REGRESSION FIC. DNI IF NSFW, KINK, PROSHIP, OR SIMILAR. DO NOT REPOST TO OTHER SITES.
Title: Drawing a smiley face
Pairing: Little!Vaggie & CG!Angel (with a brief appearance from a CG coded Husk)
Wordcount: 1472
Description: Angel returns to the Hazbin Hotel after work, looking worse for wear. Vaggie can’t stand seeing her big bro looking so down, so she plots to get a smile back on his face, using nothing but her wit, Husk’s advice, and her crayons (Mostly fluff, a little Hurt/comfort)
Drawing a Smiley Face
There was something wrong with Angie, Vaggie knew that much for sure the moment he arrived back in the Hazbin Hotel that morning.
She herself had just woken up, and had wandered downstairs to the lobby to see if Alastor and Niffty had finished breakfast yet. She was yawning and scrubbing her eyes, carrying a plush bunny under her arm as she descended the stairs, when the front doors opened. A distinct form entered the building, one she could recognize even when her half-asleep eyes wouldn’t focus: Angel Dust.
His white fluff and pink suit and lanky body were impossible to miss, and Vaggie felt herself wake up a little more with the excitement of seeing her friend. She picked up the pace, hurrying down the stairs to greet him as he dragged himself over to the couch and collapsed onto it, seemingly exhausted.
“Hi, Angie!” Vaggie greeted as she reached his side.
The spider only grumbled something, sounding exhausted but not angry. Did he have a bad day? Vaggie asked him as much, but he only waved her off with a shaky “I’m fine, toots.”
But Vaggie didn’t believe him! Not at all! If he was ‘fine,’ then he wouldn’t be slumped over the couch with his face pressed into the pillow and have his arms wrapped tightly around his torso. He only did that if he didn’t feel good!
She poked him, trying to rouse him from his obviously miserable state. Maybe a tea party would help him feel better. Or having breakfast. He always liked seeing Husk in the morning too.
“Angie,” Vaggie insisted. “Have breakfast!”
“Not hungry, right now. We can play later, okay?”
His voice maintained patience, but it was strained. Tired. Hoarse even, as if he was coming down with a cold. But he couldn’t be sick, he was just fine last night before work!
Oh. Work. Vaggie realized. She didn’t know very much, any real specifics, about Angel’s work under Valentino. But even Little she was smart enough to notice when he had new bruises underneath his frosty white fur and when he wouldn’t want to be touched. She didn’t need to hear anything else about it, not that Angel would ever disclose such information with her, to realize that Valentino was not a good person.
Maybe I should leave him alone then, Vaggie thought, sighing softly to herself and walking away. As much as she longed to give him a big hug, she knew it would only make him feel more trapped and sad. But there had to be something she could do to help him feel better!
Dejectedly, the moth demon tread to the dining area, where Husk was sitting with his cereal.
“Hey, kiddo. What’s wrong?” he greeted. Evidently, he noticed her sorry frown and dragging footsteps.
“Angie is sad,” she replied grumpily as she flopped into the seat beside him. “He had a bad day at work. Why can’t he get fired or something?”
Husk huffed half a chuckle and patted her head, though his eyes spoke pity and understanding.
“I don’t think Valentino is planning on firing Angel any time soon. But I wish he could stay home too.”
“He doesn’t want hugs when work makes him sad,” Vaggie complained. “But he needs to feel better!”
“It’s important to respect that Angie doesn’t want to be touched right now, but there are other ways you can help cheer him up,” Husk reminded her gently.
Vaggie looked up at him curiously. She hadn’t considered any other ways; especially since Angel didn’t seem keen on playtime right now either. And if he wasn’t hungry then surely a sweet treat would not be helpful. How could she possibly brighten his mood if he wanted to be alone?
“He doesn’t want to play either. And he said he wasn’t hungry,” she pointed out.
Husk nodded thoughtfully, undeterred. “He likes it when you draw him pictures, doesn’t he?”
Vaggie brightened instantly, the realization seeming so obvious but grand nonetheless. Of course! Angie loved coloring with her. And he loved it when she made him a drawing just for him!
“Yeah! I’ll draw him something,” she declared, already scrambling out of her seat.
“Not until you’ve eaten breakfast,” Husk caught her sternly.
“Fine,” she grumbled. “I’ll think about what I’m going to draw him.”
***
Half an hour later, full from scrambled eggs, fresh fruit, and cereal, Vaggie brought all her art supplies to her play mat in her and Charlie’s penthouse. Crayons were her favorite at the moment; their colors were bright like markers, but they didn’t make the corners curl upward like the marker moisture did, and they were easier to work with than colored pencils, which constantly needed to be sharpened. So, the waxy substance found its way across almost every inch of the paper, forming an explosion of colors that Charlie would have approved of. Maybe I should make a drawing for her too. And for Husk. But Vaggie shook the thought from her mind for now. For now, she wanted to focus on Angie! He needed cheering up!
With her determination reinvigorated, she reached for her magenta crayon and scribbled a couple hearts in the corner. A rainbow found its way at the top, in the sky beside the sun. She made use of silver for both of their stick figure forms, sure to include pink on both of their outfits too. She even made the sky blue and grass green because Angel recently said he missed seeing those things. In Hell everything was red.
Finally, she felt satisfied by her work; felt that she had poured enough love and dedication onto a piece of paper that it would be impossible for Angel to stay sad when he saw it.
She folded the page in half, careful to keep the corners in line and the crease even. Once accomplished, she found the front side and in haphazard penmanship scribbled: “To: AnGiE. FRom: vAGGiE.”
Perfect, she thought, giving the drawing one last inspection as she climbed to her feet. Now all that was left was to give it to Angel! Was he still in the lobby?
Vaggie wandered out of the penthouse and took the elevator to the first floor. She kept her card held carefully in her hands, as if even the slightest wrinkle would scar it forever.
When the double doors slid open again, she craned her neck around to see that Angel was still laying on the couch. At first glance, he seemed in better shape than that morning, a bit more spread out and scrolling through his HellPhone. But as she drew closer, she noted his frown had not disappeared and he hadn’t gotten changed into his loungewear yet.
“Angie?” she got his attention before holding out her card. “I made you something.”
The arachnid smiled tiredly, taking the paper. “Aw, that’s sweet of you, toots. And look, you even wrote my name on it. Now Husk can’t try to steal it, huh?”
“Nope!” Vaggie giggled.
Angel flipped open the drawing. The moth watched his reaction carefully, as he took in their crayon-drawn selves holding hands on an earthly field, surrounded by flowers and rainbows and all the other nice things Charlie talked about constantly. She had included as many details as she could, from clouds to a bowtie on Angel’s likeness.
“Aw, I love it,” Angel huffed softly, his smile a little less worn and considerably more genuine.
“Does it make you feel better?” Vaggie inquired, determined to know if the plan she and Husk had hatched proved itself worthy.
“You know what? It does,” Angel replied. “You must have worked really hard on it; there’s so many pretty colors. You even included Fat Nuggets with us; he’ll love it too. I’m going to keep it forever.”
Vaggie relaxed, a burden off her shoulders just hearing Angel’s voice calm and even. It was already improving from earlier that morning, when he had only mumbled his words and strained to even move.
“Will more pictures make you feel more better?” she asked.
“I’m sure they would. How about you bring your coloring down here and we put on a movie before I go to sleep?” Angel suggested.
Enthusiastically, Vaggie nodded. “Will you color too?”
“Sure, toots. How about I make something for you, and you make something for me?”
“Okay!”
And so, the rest of the morning and into the afternoon was spent with stickers and crayons and stamps, with the TV playing softly in the background. Their stack of artwork grew higher and higher, surely so big there wouldn’t be room on the fridge for all of it. But, Vaggie wasn’t worried about where they’d put all their drawings when they were done; only whether or not it would make the smile on Angel’s face get impossibly bigger.
Vaggie's been having a really bad day and regresses from the stress and bad emotions. Husk notices and looks after her like a papa cat would do with their kitten
SFW AGE REGRESSION FIC. DNI IF NSFW, KINK, PROSHIP, OR SIMILAR. DO NOT REPOST TO OTHER SITES.
Title: Moth, or kitten?
Word count: 1385
Pairing: Caregiver!Husk & Little!Vaggie
TW: Brief references to alcohol
Description: After Vaggie doesn’t make an appearance for dinner, Husk is a little concerned. Can he help his little feel better?
Vaggie lied on the floor of her play tent. She wasn’t really sure why she had slipped today, but…
Everything felt like too much.
Even the basic things–getting out of bed, forcing some food down her throat at breakfast time, dragging the motions of showering and getting dressed…
It was just too much.
Stupid brain, Vaggie thought, trying her best not to start crying. These were basic needs that everyone should be able to accomplish–the bare minimum. And there really wasn’t anything in particular that was upsetting her; there weren't any major issues, so why were they crying like a baby?
She should be finding Husk right now, Vaggie knew that. The Caregiver had made it abundantly clear that he wanted to supervise her whenever she regressed. But she couldn’t bring herself to leave her sanctuary, where her blankets and stuffies created a shield that reality couldn’t break.
Husk shouldn’t have to deal with me anyway, Vaggie thought, hugging her stuffed dinosaur tighter. I’m a big kid, I can take care of myself.
Desperate for a distraction, Vaggie tried focusing on her tablet’s screen, which was currently playing an episode of My Melody. Don’t cry, don’t cry, Vaggie repeated to herself. She hated crying. Crying was bad; it made her throat tighten, her head pound, and no one was here to help if she started to panic.
So she pretended none of it was real.
***
It was dinner time. Alastor had just finished making po boy sandwiches, with Niffty speedily dishing it up and dashing the bowls to the table. The others filed in one-by-one, from Charlie to Husk, all of whom seemed pleasantly appetized by the aromas emitting from the steaming meal.
Husk, gazed upon the table as he moved to sit down. Surprisingly, there was one seat empty. Vaggie’s. It was rare for the moth to skip meals. As much as she distrusted Alastor, even she couldn’t deny his cooking was delicious.
“Has anyone seen Vaggie?” Husk inquired.
“I texted her to come down; she didn’t answer,” Angel shrugged.
“And I checked her room to tell everyone it was supper time!” Niffty chimed in. “She wasn’t there though.”
Husk nodded, before abandoning his plate. His instincts told him to find the moth; she had to be in some kind of distress to skip mealtime with the Hazbin Hotel’s residents. But where was she, and why?
“I’ll be back; I’ll see if I can find her,” he excused himself.
With that, Husk retreated from the dining room, heading for the staircase. If Vaggie wasn’t in her room…and she wasn’t responding to messages…and she hadn’t been flying for the kitchen the moment the smell of roast beef and shrimp had drifted through the air…
The cat had a hunch.
Instead of going to Vaggie and Charlie’s penthouse, he headed for his own room. The moth had a tendency to hide there when she got overwhelmed, and especially if she did not wish to be found.
When he arrived inside his bedroom, his sharp gaze swept the room for disturbances. It was as calm as ever; the usual mess of a couple empty bottles, cards, and clothes littered the floor (the room used to be a disaster zone, he’s certainly done better of keeping it clean since Vaggie starting spending time here). No unusual sounds or other disturbances disrupted it….
Then he spotted it.
Vaggie’s play tent in the corner of the room was closed, tied off with the velcro straps from the inside.
Husk sighed softly, making his footsteps obvious (as not to startle her) as he approached the teepee. He could hear slow, heavy breathing from the other side, and the occasional rustling confirmed his theory.
Husk knelt down to the floor, sitting outside the tent. Dutifully, he knocked on the hardwood boards. True, he could have simply pulled the tent flaps open, but he had manners, thank you very much. If Vaggie wanted to be left alone as her hiding place suggested, he wouldn’t disrupt.
“Vags, you’re missing dinner. You want to come down and eat?” Husk’s deep voice inquired as softly as he could.
A short puff of breath, then a soft, “...no.”
“Do you want me to bring you some? You can eat here if you don’t want to come down.”
“...No.”
Husk paused for a few seconds, considering his options and the situation. Vaggie wanted to be alone, she was refusing to eat, and she didn’t seem inclined to talk either. Chances were, something had triggered her earlier, something that caused her to slip into headspace and shutdown.
He could leave her alone as she wished…but would that really be the most helpful thing? The thought of leaving her unattended with her misery sounded wrong; his instincts imploring him to find the root of the problem and solve it. And leaving her to neglect her needs was the very opposite of the job he had signed up for.
“Can I come in there with you?” Husk suggested.
There was a brief hesitation and then a fumbling of the tent flaps before the fabric doors opened. Inside, Vaggie was surrounded by stuffed animals and blankets. Her tablet played a cartoon, which she seemed to stare at dazedly. There was also a stack of crayons and coloring books which lay untouched.
Carefully, as to not disturb the sanctuary’s order, Husk crawled inside. The tent was cramped, but not so much that it was uncomfortable. Vaggie scooted over to make room, hugging her stuffed animals to her chest.
“What’s going on, kiddo?” Husk inquired, sitting cross-legged beside her.
Vaggie shrugged, burying their face into their stuffed animal's fur. Though her face was half hidden, Husk could tell she was lying.
“Whatever’s bothering you, I’d be happy to help,” the Caregiver prompted, hoping to encourage some real response. “I just don’t know what you need right now.”
Vaggie stared down, refusing to meet his eyes as she rocked in place. A self soothing motion, Husk noted. However, the additional notice of distress did little to actually explain what was wrong.
“Bad day. Dunno why?” she mumbled.
“Sorry to hear that, bug,” Husk replied, keeping his voice even and soft. “How about we start with taking care of you? Have you had anything to eat?”
Vaggie shook her head.
“How about a bottle?”
A nod.
“Some snuggles?”
Another nod.
The responses weren’t much but they were enough to encourage Husk. If Vaggie was responding, even nonverbally, then it was a positive sign. She likely wouldn’t resist caregiving.
Gentle and precise, Husk gathered the moth in his arms and carried her out of her play tent, her tablet also tucked under his arm. He thanked his past self for having the idea to keep some of Vaggie’s gear, including her bottles, in his room. His minifridge, which had once been exclusively inebriating drinks, was now stocked with protein-enriched formula that would make a suitable meal for his Little one.
Feeling Vaggie’s arms wrapped around him tightly, he couldn’t bring himself to leave her on the bed alone. He gave her a soft, comforting squeeze as his wings shifted to wrap around her like a blanket. With a soft pur, he rested his cheek on the top of her head.
As much as he hated his demon form, he couldn’t deny its uses in instances such as these. He had never been the parental type while alive, but his distinctly cat-like instincts at least made him adequate. He would live with this form, perhaps even grow to be thankful for it as long as it helped Vaggie.
Soon, the bottle was filled and heated, and the two made it to Husk’s bed. Snuggled up to her Caregiver’s side, Vaggie mumbled a few words behind her bottle, but otherwise seemed content. Husk kept her close, nudging her with his furry cheek if she became fussy. The sunset outside, the stars gradually appeared, and the two were left to themselves.
The peacefulness calmed them both, Vaggie returning to her usual little self. Soft, unintelligible mumbles became clearer as she rambled to Husk about her day, the drawing she was working on, the cartoon she wanted to watch—absolutely anything that came to her mind. Husk nodded along, enjoying every word, knowing them to be sure signs Vaggie was feeling better.
(I had an idea where kinger takes a tired pomni to her room, but suddenly screams pomni gets scared and then squinting and sleepy stared at him like: "Kinger, wtf")
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