Nuhuuu hello everyone
Here we go, SCP-166 fanart, based on the "Art Nouveau" style (Mucha reference)
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Nuhuuu hello everyone
Here we go, SCP-166 fanart, based on the "Art Nouveau" style (Mucha reference)

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
i havent drawn this little lady in forever
not my finalized design for her by any means, i would've liked to push it to be more inhuman and weird
happy pride month to the toxic lesbian situationship final boss
The design changes they had in the 202X lore look brutal đĽ
The lore is about a scientific organization experimenting with anomalous entities, which accidentally leads to the creation of Bob, a conscious AI that becomes dangerous. From there everything collapses into chaos: broken timelines, failed clones, curses, characters trapped in digital dimensions, and conflicts between the scientists themselves.
It originally started as a joke FNF mod, but the 2025 lore turns it into a much bigger, darker, and more absurd story, mixing serious events with surreal comedy (Meri isn't part of the lore, she's a separate lore made by a fan, I like her new design lol)
Lore Recommended:
THE B.O.B 202X / BOBâS ONSLAUGHT 2025 INFO DOCUMENT Funny update: As of 18th September 2025, the new bad guys have been revealed! We will wo
MERIDIANA
Deepfried version
I'll do a blended version of the art later :p

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
wife has informed me that the masses may enjoy tiny meri
He never said it, but he always showed it.
requested by heesobambi
HAPPY HEE DAY!!!!!!! For five years, Iâve traced the shadows of your birthdays, feeling the same spark of wonder each time, like moonlight spilling over a still, dark lake. Youâre a flame that burns quietly in the nightâpassionate, untouchable, and hauntingly brilliantâand Iâve been lucky enough to watch it glow. May your days be as endless as the night, filled with the love and devotion that follows you wherever you go. Happy birthday, Heeseung⌠always remembered, always admired đđ¤
fayeâs note: This oneâs for anyone whoâs ever been loved softlyâby gestures instead of words. Heeseungâs love isnât loud; itâs gentle, consistent, and always there when you need it.
Itâs too late, and your laptop hums quietly in the background, casting a pale blue glow across your desk. Your notes are scattered, highlighted in every colour you swore would help you focus. The room smells faintly like green tea and the faint sweetness of your shampoo.
You blink, trying to stay awake.
And then you hear it.
A soft knock. One, two. Then silence.
âHeeseung?â you call, your voice hoarse from hours of reading.
The door creaks open. Heâs there, hair messy, hoodie halfway zipped, and eyes half-lidded like heâs been fighting sleep too. He looks at you for a moment, then at the clock.
âItâs almost 1 a.m.,â he says quietly. âYou still at it?â
You try to smile. âIâm almost done.â
He humsâa sound halfway between understanding and worry. He walks in without another word, setting down a small cup on your desk. Steam curls up from it. It's honey waterâwarm, the way you like it.
You blink at it, then at him. âYou made this?â
He shrugs, rubbing the back of his neck. âCouldnât sleep. Figured you couldnât either.â
You let out a small laugh. âYouâre too nice sometimes.â
He doesnât answer. Instead, he takes the seat beside you, eyes scanning the mess of your desk. âYouâve been staring at this screen for hours,â he murmurs. âYouâll burn out.â
You pout, half playfully. âBut Iâm almost done.â
Heeseung leans forward, chin resting in his hand, studying you the way he always doesâlike youâre something fragile and fascinating at the same time. âYou always say that,â he says, voice soft. âAnd then itâs suddenly sunrise.â
You open your mouth to argue, but then he gently pushes your laptop shut.
âHeeââ
He stands, stretching lazily before reaching for your hand. His fingers are warmâsoft but firm enough that you canât really argue. âCome on,â he says. âTen minutes. Just lie down for ten minutes.â
You want to protest, but thereâs something about his tone. Not demanding. Just patient. Quietly certain.
And so, you follow.
You end up lying side by side on your bed, the room dim except for the soft glow of the fairy lights draped across your wall. You turn to him. Heâs staring at the ceiling, eyes heavy with thought.
âYou do this a lot,â you whisper.
He glances at you. âDo what?â
âTake care of me without saying anything.â
He smiles, that small, almost shy curve of his lips always tightens your chest. âI donât have to say it,â he says, voice low. âYou know.â
You blink. âKnow what?â
Heeseung hesitatesâjust long enough for you to notice. Then he exhales through his nose, brushing a strand of hair from your face. His thumb lingers near your temple.
âThat Iâm proud of you,â he says. âAnd that you should rest.â
Itâs not I love you, but your heart hears it anyway.
You smile, eyes soft. âYouâre gonna make me cry.â
âThen Iâll take responsibility.â
You giggle quietly. âYou sound like a drama lead.â
He grinsâreally grins this time, eyes crinkling at the corners. âThen I must be doing something right.â
The room falls into a safe silence. Outside, the world is asleep. Inside, itâs just the two of you and the steady rhythm of shared breathing.
When your eyes finally start to close, you feel him shift closer. His hand finds yours under the blanket.
âYou did well today,â he murmurs. âYou always do.â
You hum, half-asleep. âSo did you.â
He chuckles softly, his voice fading into something barely above a whisper. âGoodnight, Y/N.â
And though he never says the words, you know what he means.
You feel it in the warmth of his hand, in the cup of honey water still steaming faintly on your desk, in the way he never lets you burn out alone.
Heeseung never says I love you.
But he always shows it.
Every day. In every small, unspoken way.
end note: love doesnât always sound like three wordsâit can be a cup of warm tea at 1 a.m., a hand reaching out when youâre too tired to stand, or someone quietly reminding you that youâre enough.
MORNING LIGHT
fayeâs note: the kind of morning that feels like a secret between two people who get each other.
The first thing you notice when you wake up isnât the sunlightâitâs the smell.
Warm, buttery, and faintly sweet.
You blink yourself awake, the soft rustle of blankets following as you sit up slowly. Heeseungâs hoodie is draped over your chair, and the fairy lights still glow faintly even though the sunâs already peeking through the curtains.
You glance toward the kitchen. Thereâs movement. Quiet, steady.
And thenâhis voice.
âMorning, sleepyhead.â
You turn, still groggy, to find him standing in a loose white t-shirt and joggers, holding a spatula like heâs been doing this all his life. Thereâs an apron tied around his waistâyour apron, the pink one with little strawberries.
You blink. âAre you⌠cooking?â
He smiles without looking up. âAttempting to.â
Your lips twitch. âShould I be worried?â
He finally looks at you, feigning offence. âExcuse me, Iâm doing great. The pancakes are still round.â
You laugh, your voice still soft while you are asleep. âBare minimum chef standards.â
He grins, shaking his head, flipping another pancake with ridiculous concentration. âYou talk a lot for someone who just woke up.â
You hum, leaning against the doorframe. âYouâre the one who told me to rest.â
âAnd you did,â he says, with a half-proud, half-fond tone. âYou fell asleep mid-sentence.â
Your face warms instantly. âNo way.â
Heeseung chuckles, turning to plate the pancakes. âYou were talking about⌠oh, what was it? Oh, rightâhow this time Iâll actually wake up early.â
You groan, burying your face in your hands. âDonât quote me.â
âToo late.â He slides the plate onto the table, then pulls a chair for you. âEat before it gets cold.â
You sit, still pretending to be mad, but the smell makes your stomach grumble. The pancakes are imperfectâslightly uneven, a bit crisp around the edgesâbut they taste like home when you take a bite.
You look up at him, and heâs watching you expectantly.
âItâs good,â you mumble, cheeks puffed from the food.
Heeseung leans on the counter, smirking. âGood enough to forgive the teasing?â
âMaybe.â
He laughs againâa quiet, low sound that fills the room like sunlight.
Thereâs a pause long enough for the world to feel still. You watch him moveâhow careful he is when he tidies up, the way he hums softly under his breath. Every gesture of his feels effortless, but intentional.
âHeeseung,â you say quietly.
He looks up. âHmm?â
You meet his eyes. âYouâre⌠really sweet, you know that?â
He freezes for a second, caught off guard. Then he scratches the back of his neck, a shy smile tugging at his lips. âI just wanted you to start your day right.â
And againâitâs not I love you. But it is.
Itâs there, tucked between pancakes and sleepy laughter, in the quiet of your kitchen.
You reach across the table, resting your hand over his. âYou always do.â
Heeseung glances down, fingers curling gently around yours. âGood.â
And thatâs it: no grand confession, no dramatic moment.
Just two people in morning lightâcomfortable, content, and wordlessly in love.
end note: Sometimes, love is as simple as staying. Not in big declarations, but in mornings that start with âdid you sleep well?â and pancakes that are slightly burnt but made just for you.
EVENING GLOW
fayeâs note: This is for the kind of love that doesnât need to be loudâfor the person who stays until the lights dim and then stays a little longer.
The sky outside your window fades into gold, lilac, and soft blue-gray. You can smell the rain before it even startsâthat faint, earthy sweetness that makes the world feel smaller and gentler.
Youâre curled up on the couch, half-buried in a blanket, scrolling through movie options when Heeseung wanders in from the kitchen with a mug in each hand. He sets one down before you, steam curling softly between you.
âChamomile,â he says.
You smile, tugging the blanket tighter around yourself. âHow did you know I was cold?â
He shrugs, sitting down beside you. âYou always pull your sleeves over your hands when you are.â
That makes your chest ache in the best way. He always noticesâthe small things, the in-between things.
The movie starts, but neither of you is really watching. The rain outside grows heavier, tapping gently against the glass. Heeseungâs shoulder brushes yours now and then, the space between you shrinking each time until his arm naturally slips behind you.
You lean into him without thinking.
He glances down, a tiny smile tugging at his lips. âComfortable?â
âMm-hm.â
Heeseung doesnât say anything after that. His attention stays half on the screen, half on youâhow your eyes soften when the light flickers across them, how your hand rests unconsciously over his thigh.
At some point, he reaches over and brushes a few strands of hair from your face. His fingertips linger at your temple, gentle, reverent.
When you look up at him, the scene on the TV fades into a blur of colour.
âWhat?â you whisper.
Heeseung shakes his head slightly. âNothing.â
But thereâs something in his gazeâsomething quiet, sure, and overflowing.
He doesnât say I love you. He never does. But itâs there in how he moves closer, how he tucks you under his chin when you shiver, how his thumb traces soft, thoughtless patterns on your arm.
The movie ends, the rain slows, and you both stay thereâwrapped in the stillness.
âHeeseung?â
âYeah?â
You pause, unsure of what you even want to ask. âHow do you do it?â
He tilts his head. âDo what?â
âMake everything feel so easy.â
Heeseung smiles a little, eyes half-lidded with warmth. âMaybe because itâs you.â
Itâs barely above a whisper, but it lands somewhere deep.
You breathe out, the air between you humming with something tender and unspoken.
He presses a soft kiss to the top of your headâa touch so fleeting, yet so sureâand thatâs his answer.
No words, no grand gesture. Just presence. Just warmth.
He never said it, but he always showed it.
end note: Some people say âI love youâ without ever saying the words. They do it when they make you tea without asking, when they stay through the rain, when they choose you in every quiet moment. Thatâs Heeseung.
AT LAST
fayeâs note: This is when you realize love was always there â it just needed quiet to be heard.
Itâs late. The world outside has fallen asleep, and your apartment hums in soft stillness â the kind that only happens after laughter fades and words have run out.
You and Heeseung are sitting on the floor, backs against the couch, and an old playlist is humming from your phone between you. The lights are dim, just the faint glow of the lamp painting everything gold.
Heeseung leans his head back, eyes half-closed. âWe shouldâve gone to bed an hour ago.â
You smile, tracing your finger along the rim of your glass. âYou say that every time.â
He hums in agreement, voice low and lazy. âYou always convince me to stay up anyway.â
âYou stay up because you want to.â
He opens one eye, a slight smirk pulling at his lips. âMaybe.â
Silence settles againânot awkward but comfortable, the kind of silence that feels like being known.
You glance at him. His hair is slightly messy, his expression soft, and he is far from the composed, confident Heeseung everyone else sees. This is himâreal, tired, human.
Your voice comes out barely above a whisper. âYou know⌠sometimes I wonder what youâre thinking when you get quiet like that.â
He looks at you, eyes searching. âYou really wanna know?â
You nod.
Heeseung exhales, like heâs been holding something in for a long time. âI think about how lucky I got.â
Your heart trips over itself. âLucky?â
âYeah.â He chuckles softly, rubbing the back of his neck. âTo have this. To have you. To be⌠understood, I guess.â
You swallow, trying not to let your heart show too much. âYou donât have to say that just toââ
âIâm not.â
He cuts you off gently, voice steady now. âI donât say things I donât mean.â
Something in his toneâraw, vulnerableâmakes you go still.
Heâs quiet for a while, his gaze drifting to where your hands rest between you. Then, slowly, he reaches out, fingers brushing yours before fully intertwining them.
Heeseung doesnât look up when he speaks next.
âYou know Iâm not good with words,â he murmurs, thumb tracing small circles on your skin. âIâve always thought⌠if I said it wrong, itâd sound too small for what I feel.â
Your breath catches.
He looks at you then, really looksâlike heâs memorizing something he never wants to forget.
âBut I guess⌠saying nothing isnât fair either.â
You blink, realizing whatâs happening, the air between you suddenly fragile.
âHeeseungââ
âI love you.â
Itâs not loud. Not dramatic. Just soft. Certain.
Three words, spoken like a secret.
You stare at him, everything inside you melting all at once. He doesnât flinch or look away. He lets it be there â simple, honest, unpolished.
You smile, a tear slipping down before you even notice. âRepeat it.â
Heeseung grins faintly, squeezing your hand. âI love you.â
And then he laughs, that breathy, boyish sound that always feels like sunshine after rain.
You lean forward, resting your forehead against his shoulder. âYou finally said it.â
He hums, tilting his head so his cheek brushes your hair. âYeah. But you knew already, didnât you?â
You nod against him. âI did.â
Heeseung smiles, eyes close, and words and actions meet perfectly for once.
end note: He never rushed it. He never forced it. He just waited for the moment when it would sound like breathing. Thatâs love â quiet, patient, and real.
ONE YEAR LATER
fayeâs note: This is for the kind of love that grows in small moments â the soft routines, the shared glances, the laughs in the dark.
The apartment smells faintly of coffee and vanilla muffins. You hum along to a playlist, but neither has changed in months.
Heeseung is perched on the counter, bare feet dangling, laptop open but forgotten. Heâs scrolling through old photos on his phone, grinning at each one like a private joke unfolds just for him.
âLook at us,â he says softly. âRemember that night we stayed up until 3 a.m. watching rain through the window?â
You glance up from the muffin youâre icing. âHow could I forget? You insisted on a second cup of tea and then spilled it on the table.â
He chuckles, mock-offended. âI spilled it once! You exaggerated.â
You grin. âOnce. Twice. Three times.â
Heeseung shrugs, that signature smirk tugging at his lips. âOkay, maybe more than once.â
You sit across from him, letting your legs dangle off the table. âI canât believe itâs been a year.â
He looks at you, expression softening. âTime flies.â
You lean back, stretching, eyes half-closed in contentment. âAnd yet, some things havenât changed.â
Heeseung tilts his head, eyebrows raising. âOh? Like what?â
âYou,â you say. âStill the same⌠quiet, thoughtful, annoying in the best ways.â
He chuckles, shaking his head. âAnnoying, huh? Iâll take that as a compliment.â
You watch him for a moment â how the sunlight hits his hair, how he always notices the little details, how heâs learned your patterns and quirks. The way heâs always there, even in silence.
âYou know,â you murmur, âI still remember the first time you said it.â
Heeseungâs eyes soften, a small smile curving his lips. âI do too. I think I was more nervous than you.â
You nudge him playfully. âNervous? You were so calm.â
âCalm on the outside,â he admits with a chuckle. âInside? Chaos. Always chaos.â
You reach across, brushing a strand of hair from his face. âYouâve gotten better at showing it, though. Even when you donât say much.â
Heeseungâs hand finds yours, fingers curling around yours naturally. âI learned from you,â he murmurs. âYou made it easy.â
You smile softly, squeezing his hand. âThatâs because you let it be easy.â
For a moment, neither of you speaks. The only sounds are the playlist's soft hum and the coffee mugs' faint clink.
Then he leans in, resting his forehead against yours. âHappy anniversary,â he whispers.
You smile, heart full. âHappy anniversary, Heeseung.â
And just like that, a year of quiet love feels like a lifetime of warmth, comfort, and homeâin each otherâs presence, in every small, unspoken gesture.
Heeseung never rushed it, never forced it.
And a year later, he still shows itâin ways louder than words ever could.
end note: Love grows quietly. It grows in coffee and muffins, shared glances, laughter over spilled tea, and presence rather than proclamation. With him, it always has.
Copyright 2025 - present Š hazelira all rights reserved. All writing here is fiction & not in any association with characters mentioned.