I told you I’d be making something for this event-
I’m honestly just making this for fun, I don’t expect it to be put on the blog, I just like any excuse to draw YURI!!!!!! Rougamy… pink gorls… weeps……… Also this event needs more attention so it can run again next year and I can be ON TIME for it and not hear about it after it’s run!!!!! 😤😤😤😤😤
Tumblr absolutely KILLED the quality what the freak!!!! Not that it’s very polished to begin with- I can’t be assed to draw more than sketches these days, but it’s okay, I’m having fun-
Uhhhh Rouge’s design based off of @eeksmok and @cloud-ya and Amy’s design also based off of @eeksmok!! Very talented artists I ADORE!!! I like how I drew Rouge but Amy is… gonna need some tweaks. I have six more prompts to go, so!!!! Jsjdjjdfjjfsiks
pairing: rougamy | word count: 1.1k | rating: G | ao3 | for sonic femslash week day 4: pretty gay! by baybe
By now, it's become routine. Rouge makes sure to hang around the bar every Friday at nine pm, because she knows that's when Amy will show up to complain about her latest failed attempt at capturing Sonic's heart. Rouge will nurse her drink while she tries in vain to keep Amy from slamming hers back like she's expecting to find love at the bottom of each glass. She'll smile and nod and make sympathetic noises while Amy complains, resisting the urge to say I just don't think he's into you like that, honey, because this entire endeavor is supposed to end with Amy feeling better, not worse.
After an hour or so, Amy will press her cheek flat against the countertop, uncaring of the fact that it's perpetually sticky even though Rouge has told her bartenders to clean it better countless times, and pout.
"You're so nice to me," she whines on this particular Friday. This, too, is similar to what she says every week. "Why can't Sonic just be nice to me?"
Rouge, following the script, makes a noncommittal noise.
"Seriously," Amy continues. "You listen to me. Sonic never does that. He never has time for me, either, and he never wants to go anywhere together…"
"If that's true, why do you keep trying?" Rouge asks, idly running a finger along the rim of her glass.
Amy is quiet for a moment, brow furrowing in thought—then all at once she shoots upright with such force that Rouge has to reach out to steady her still half-full glass. She's expecting it, now, but when this whole thing first started there were quite a few spills.
"You're right!" Amy gasps. "You're totally right! I need to just get over him."
Rouge nods. "That does seem like it's for the best."
"There's other guys out there, anyway," Amy continues, almost like she didn't even hear Rouge speak. "Better ones. Ones that are actually nice to me, like you."
Rouge hums, waiting patiently for the momentary burst of optimism to fade the way it always does. Sure enough, a few second later Amy wilts, tilting towards Rouge with her arms outstretched. "Rouge," she slurs, making grabby hands until Rouge scoots her barstool close enough that Amy can lean against her shoulder, arms slung loosely around her waist. "Why can't I just find a guy like you?"
"Well," Rouge says, rubbing a soothing hand down Amy's back. "You know I'm one of a kind."
Amy groans. She smushes her face against Rouge's shoulder, undoubtedly smearing her mascara. "I wish I could just date you," she mumbles. "That would be so much easier."
"I know, honey," Rouge says. She keeps rubbing Amy's back until the pink hedgehog lifts her head, face flushed and eyes shining. Like always, she doesn't make eye contact; her eyes lock onto Rouge's lips, gaze intense and unwavering.
Here, it doesn't matter so much what Rouge does. Today she licks the corner of her mouth, but she could stay perfectly still instead and Amy would still lean forward to clumsily slot their lips together.
Amy's lips are sticky with the remains of her lip gloss, face so flushed with drink Rouge can practically feel the heat radiate off her. The kiss is usually chaste, lasting only a few seconds—but today Amy opens her mouth to swipe her tongue along Rouge's bottom lip. It's habit by now to let Amy set the pace when they kiss, so Rouge parts her lips on instinct, pleasantly surprised when Amy takes the opportunity to lick into her mouth.
It's a bit of a mess; Amy is too drunk to kiss properly, more than a little sloppy with it. Even so, it's nice in its own way; she tastes like the fruity cocktails she's been drinking and faintly of vanilla, which Rouge figures must be the flavor of her lip gloss. Her lips are soft, and so is her chest when she leans in closer to press her torso against Rouge's.
They kiss for a few seconds, until Amy tries to get even closer and instead slips off her stool, saved from falling only by her and Rouge's combined efforts. She giggles as she climbs back on, rubbing her mouth and looking everywhere but at Rouge.
"Sorry," she says, following the script once more. "I don't know why I did that."
Normally, Rouge shrugs it off, making some comment or other about how alcohol makes fools of them all—but Amy normally doesn't kiss her with tongue. Things are already different, so why shouldn't Rouge improvise a little?
"You know…" Rouge places her hand on Amy's knee and leans forward until she finally manages to catch her eye. "You don't have to settle for a cheap imitation when the real thing is right here."
Amy frowns. "Huh?"
Rouge sighs. Figures Amy would be too drunk to understand subtlety. "I'm right here. If you want to date me, just ask me out."
For a moment Amy looks genuinely shaken—then she giggles again, leaning back far enough as she does so that she nearly falls off the stool in the other direction. "Don't be silly, Rouge," she says, once her giggles have mostly subsided. "I'm not gay."
And that's—
Well. Honestly, it's about the reaction Rouge was expecting—but that doesn't make it any more absurd.
"Sweetie," she tries, not unkindly, "I don't think most straight girls go out kissing girls every Friday."
"What are you talking about?" Amy asks. To Rouge's mild horror, she looks genuinely confused. "One drunken kiss is hardly every Friday."
It's rare for Rouge to find herself at a loss for words, but that does it. She opens and closes her mouth uselessly a few times before she gives up, downing what remains of her drink instead. It's not until Amy flags over the bartender that she finds her voice again. She grabs Amy's wrist to pull her hand back down, subtly shaking her head at the bartender as she says, "I think you've had enough for today, sweetheart. How about I call you a cab?"
Amy pouts and whines for a while, but gives in when she almost falls off the barstool for a third time.
"Thanks, Rouge," she says a few minutes later, when Rouge is herding her into the cab, one hand on her head to make sure she doesn't hit it on the door. "You're so nice to me."
Rouge smiles. She may not have been able to get through to Amy this time, but that goodbye is exactly according to the script—which means she'll have another chance next week.
Welcome to Sonic Femslash Week 2k26! This event will be run here on tumblr, as well as on bluesky and twitter. It's open for anybody to participate, no sign up required. Simply create something for one or more of the prompts & post it during the event period (Febuary 23rd to March 1st) with the tag #sthfemslashweek26 and you're good to go! For those of you posting on ao3, you can add your works to the sthfemslashweek ao3 collection.
The detailed rules have their own dedicated post, but the general gist is as follows: keep the focus on femslash ships between canonically female characters & otherwise just have fun!
Repeat of the prompts below the cut:
Day 1 (Feb 23rd): First date / Semi-public / Body On Me - Nxdia
Day 2 (Feb 24th): Gifts / Lingerie / Girls Like You - Cloudy June
Summary: Amy never considered herself sexy. She was pretty, she was cute, but she was not sexy. Being friends with Rouge — and later dating her — taught her that. Blaze was not sexy, but she was as gracious as Rouge. They both had this commandeering sense to them that made her jealous.
She had long accepted she would never feel sexy like Rouge, or be gracious like Blaze. Amy was cute, and that was enough. It had to be enough.
This was written for @sthfemslashweek Day 2, Gift+Lingerie! It was also my birthday gift to myself :3
Finally, a shitpost! And what is that… is that… THICKER LINE ART?!?!?? I’m trying out a more cartoony style, since forcing myself to do otherwise is… clearly not working. Idek why I was trying to do something more complex (I was inspired by my idols) since I’ve always had a more cartoony style and Sonic characters should be loads of fun to draw if I allow myself to loosen tf up. So now we’re here.
There’s a good chance the rest of these submissions are going to be surgamy. They have me in a CHOKEHOLD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Just one week left! Sonic femslash week 2026 starts Monday the 23rd!
Don't forget to tag your creations with #sthfemslashweek26! If you're posting fic on ao3, you can also add it to the collection there, which will open Febuary 21st for any early birds.
pairing: blazouge | word count: 2k | rating: E | ao3 | for sonic femslash week day 6 & 7
Rouge is a mere few steps removed from the door to the treasury when the light in the hallway suddenly flares. The torches are still spaced the same distance apart, their flames no brighter than before—which means the sudden brightness could only have come from one person.
Figures. Even after all this time, Blaze still remembers Rouge's old tricks.
Rouge turns around slowly, lips curled into a seductive smile. "Hello, darling. Fancy meeting you here."
As expected, Blaze is unimpressed. Her lips are pursed, eyes narrowed as she stares at Rouge. She holds a sword in one hand, a ball of fire—now the same brightness as the torches on the wall—in the other. "You're in the halls of my castle. Were you expecting someone else?"
Rouge suppresses a wince. She's perfectly aware of whose castle she's in—but according to her intel, Blaze should have been visiting a neighboring kingdom on a diplomatic mission right now. She should have been able to get in and out without risking running into her.
Still, she can't let Blaze know seeing her has thrown her off. If there's one thing Rouge has learned over her long and illustrious career, it's that showing such weakness almost guarantees a one-way trip to a dungeon—even if the person she's showing weakness to is her ex-lover.
Maybe especially then.
Rouge shrugs a single shoulder. "I'd have expected some guards, for one. Your security has gotten quite lax over the past few years."
"Funny," Blaze says, sounding anything but amused. "I was certain there were two guards stationed at the entrance to the treasury—yet I found one of them unconscious in the hall mere minutes ago."
Oops. Seems that sleeping draught wasn't as effective as Rouge had assumed. Next time she uses it, she'll make sure to deposit her victim in a room with a door she can lock.
Blaze steps closer, the blade of her sword flashing in the firelight. "You knew the guards' schedules. You knew which ones would be susceptible to your—" She grimaces. "—charms."
Rouge inclines her head. No use playing innocent now—and maybe Blaze will appreciate the honesty.
"Just how long have you been planning to rob me, Rouge?"
Rouge makes an affronted noise. "I wouldn't consider it robbing—"
The flame in Blaze's hand flares, becoming bright enough that Rouge is forced to shield her eyes. "You didn't consider it robbing last time, either—yet you took an eighth of the kingdom's wealth with you when you departed." In the middle of the night, without warning or a goodbye.
Blaze doesn't say that last sentence out loud, but Rouge still hears it clear as day. It's in Blaze's expression, in the tenseness of her shoulders, in the tight grip she has around the hilt of her sword. An accusation—and one that Rouge is helpless to deny.
Rouge did exactly what Blaze is accusing her of doing. She seduced the princess to gain access to her castle, then snuck down to the treasury in the middle of the night and made her escape with a jewelry box filled with the kingdoms most valuable gems in tow.
She hadn't expected Blaze to have forgiven her for that, even half a decade later—which is why she'd really, really been hoping Blaze wouldn't be here.
Blaze takes another step forward. She's close enough that Rouge can see her eyes clearly, shining with the light of the fire in her hand and an emotion Rouge doesn't dare name. "Tell me honestly, Rouge—did you plan to rob me from the start? Did those months of companionship, of sharing a bed, truly mean nothing to you? Was everything a lie?"
No. Rouge had finished forming her plan after a measly two weeks—but by that time she had, in defiance of her natural instincts and everything she had been taught, grown fond of Princess Blaze. Continuing to court her for three months was not only unnecessary, but foolish and risky besides—yet Rouge stayed. Because of her feelings. Fondness, lust—perhaps even love.
Not that it matters. In the end, Rouge still went through with it. Nothing she can say could possibly soothe the undoubtedly painful sting of betrayal.
"Would it change anything if it wasn't?" Rouge asks.
Blaze's eyes flick to the side. A blush appears high on her cheeks, light enough that Rouge would think it a trick of the light of not for her intimate familiarity with the princess' body. "Perhaps knowing it was an impulsive decision—a crime of opportunity, so to speak—would ease the pain some."
Rouge attempts a smile. "Only perhaps?"
Blaze doesn't answer. She tilts her chin down, casting her face into shadow while her eyes continue to reflect the firelight; the overall effect is admittedly quite intimidating—but Rouge can't help but notice it's also devastatingly attractive.
Rouge shakes herself. She's here with a purpose, to do a job; she can't entertain these sorts thoughts. Even if she could—if she did, if she tried to rekindle whatever her and Blaze used to have—there's no way Blaze would let her back into her life without making her face some sort of consequences first.
"It was planned from the start," Rouge says, voice flat. She keeps her gaze aimed forward, not so much meeting Blaze's eyes as she is looking right through her. "I only seduced you to gain access to the treasury. So, yes—it was all a lie."
Again, the flame in Blaze's hand flares. Rouge isn't quite fast enough to shield her eyes this time; the sudden brightness momentarily blinds her, leaves her disoriented enough that she can't even struggle when she feels herself being moved.
When Rouge finally manages to blink the spots out of her eyes, she's face to face with a furious Blaze—and Blaze's sword is at her throat.
"I should kill you where you stand."
Rouge's blood runs cold, then burns hot. It's a confusing mess of feelings; the fear that comes from knowing with certainty that Blaze is capable of following through with the threat, as well as the sudden awareness of the cat's body pressing against hers. Terror and arousal in equal measure.
But she can't let that affect her. If she lets Blaze get to her, Rouge will end up in the dungeon for sure—perhaps even worse, if she doesn't manage to talk her down.
Rouge takes a moment to gather herself, to make sure her true feelings are well hidden, then tuts. "Without due process? My my, Princess. What would the people think?"
Blaze's eyes waver—but then she leans more of the weight on the sword, the edge cutting into Rouge's skin just enough for her to feel the sting. "That I rid them of a dangerous criminal—and the reason over half of them were denied aid when they requested it in the year after you robbed the castle. I suspect the common folk will wish to throw a parade in my honor."
Ouch. Rouge knows robbing the castle made things harder for Blaze's subjects, but it's not like she left the kingdom with nothing. The people have a right to be angry, yes, but a parade is going a bit far.
Rouge's breath trembles on its way out. She breathes in deeply, steadying herself, and meets Blaze's eyes. "Then do it. If you really think me no better than a common thief—if all I am is a threat to your kingdom, do it. Kill me."
Blaze's hand trembles, the sword shaking where it rests against Rouge's neck. For a moment, just a fraction of a second, the pressure increases even more. In that moment, Rouge fears she's made a grave miscalculation, that she really is about to have her head cut off—but then the sword drops.
Rouge barely has time to heave a sigh of relief before Blaze's lips are crashing into hers.
It's nothing like the way they used to kiss before, back when they were young and Blaze was still fumbling her way through a series of firsts. Those kisses were sweet, delicate; the way Blaze is kissing her now is heavy with history, rough with anger. It's as much teeth as it is lips and tongue, digging into Rouge's lips and leaving them bruised and bleeding when Blaze pulls away.
Rouge is panting, bosom heaving with her breaths. She doesn't miss the way Blaze's eyes dart down to her cleavage; she takes advantage of the moment to jut her chest out as far as she can without pushing Blaze away. "Would your subjects still throw a parade if—"
"Rouge." Blaze places a hand on Rouge's throat. She doesn't squeeze, but the threat is still present—and she's perfectly capable of burning Rouge's flesh off, so there isn't any need for her to squeeze in the first place. "Shut up."
Rouge shuts up. When Blaze leans in again she kisses her back just as fiercely, scraping her teeth over Blaze's lips and sucking her tongue into her mouth.
For all that Blaze has clearly changed in the time they've been apart, pleasing her is no more difficult. Rouge still knows just where to touch her to make her gasp, what to do to draw out sweet moans.
Before, Blaze tended to be rather hesitant in bed, preferring to let Rouge take the lead. It's impossible to know if this change has come with time or if it's a result at her anger at Rouge, but there's no trace of hesitancy now. Blaze is bold, moving with confidence and surety. She slots her body against Rouge's, pulling her closer with a hand on her upper thigh. Rouge wraps her arms around Blaze's shoulders in turn, arching her back so her breasts rub against Blaze's chest.
Blaze's sword clatters to the ground. Her newly freed hand finds its way to Rouge's other thigh, squeezing roughly at the flesh there. Rouge moans into her mouth, trying to push herself even closer, only to break the kiss with a startled gasp when Blaze uses the grip on her thighs to lift her into the air. Rouge wraps her legs around Blaze's waist on instinct, even though it will make it harder to run—but she can't bring herself to regret it when Blaze leans her against the wall, shifting her grip so she only needs one arm to keep Rouge up, and plants her other hand firmly between Rouge's legs.
Rouge gasps, head tipping back when Blaze grinds the heel of her hand against her cunt. Blaze takes the opportunity to mouth at her neck, licking at the edge of the cut left by her sword. It hurts some, but it's more pleasurable than it is painful—and even if that weren't true, Rouge supposes she deserves a little pain.
As if reading her mind, Blaze mutters, "I despise you."
Rouge opens her mouth to respond, but all that comes out is a moan when Blaze slots her thumb between her labia and moves it in tight circles around her clit.
"You stole from me, from my kingdom. You hurt my people." Blaze's voice is tight with emotion. She teases two fingers at Rouge's entrance; when she finds her already wet, she pushes them both in without warning.
Rouge hisses, then moans when the initial burn starts to fade. Blaze waits a few seconds for her to adjust, then starts thrusting, keeping her thumb on her clit.
The pleasure builds fast, almost shockingly so. Rouge is nearly too distracted to catch the words Blaze mumbles into her skin, her voice soft and almost pained.
"You broke my heart."
Rouge comes with a cry and a shudder. Blaze doesn't stop, keeps working her until Rouge is approaching the edge again, nearly shaking with it. Overwhelmed tears well up in her eyes when Blaze bites her neck and mutters something again, something about—
It doesn't matter. Rouge can't let it matter. Because if she wants to keep her freedom, she's going to have to leave again. Once Blaze is tired out, once she lets her guard down, Rouge will slip out.
