#shipping art plus their babies

[dororoxpenana]

It's a crime I never shared this publicly smdjsk art trade I did with my lovely friend @overly-dramatic-artist of her beautiful Angel and Bruno with their gorgeous kids 😭💚✨️

[ca-ca13]

I really love if mxtx make a side story about Jin ling and lan shiuzi because they make a very cute couple and I really like it if they put like an older version of Jin ling and lan shiuzi together like imagine sect leader Jin and some lan you meant to be in a romantic relationship I find it so funny

Credit to the artist who made this

[cuteniaarts]

@katkastrofa, circa 40-ish hours ago: Hey, what if our newest bunch of OCs adopted a baby from one of the other brothel girls who knew she couldn’t afford to raise one? That would make for some fun shenanigans :D

Me, with a notoriously non existent sleep schedule, instinct of self preservation or concern for my poor wrist: Alright, bet. Watch how fast I can make you fall in love with this hypothetical baby >:)

Daneli as a gentle and loving caretaker-turned-adoptive-mother is something that can be So Personal, actually, and originally I was going to leave it at this quick sketch, but then I got carried away thinking about what this child will grow up to be like raised by this little gang of misfits, so…

Here she is!! A little older and so, so beautiful, I need more of her in my life immediately, she’s way too precious

And, because I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t also add a sapphic element to this absolute cinnamon roll, a small crack ship that I’m only half serious about for when she’s a little older still:

All in all, we may be getting impossibly far from canon, but I for one already cannot get enough of sweet darling Kumisai <3

(I fully drew three pieces from scratch in 9 hours I cannot feel my brain or my hands anymore send help)

[just-ornstein]

[JK]  My first job was as an Assistant Producer for a video game company called Interplay in Irvine, CA. I had recently graduated from Boston University's School of Fine Arts with an MFA in Directing (I started out as a theatre nerd), but also had some limited coding experience and a passion for computers. It didn't look like I'd be able to make a living directing plays, so I decided to combine entertainment and technology (before it was cool!) and pitched myself to Brian Fargo, Interplay's CEO. He gave me my first break. I packed up and moved out west, and I've been producing games ever since.

[JK] I loved my time at EA. I was there for almost a full decade, and learned a tremendous amount about game-making, and met the most talented and driven people, who I remain in touch with today. EA gave me many opportunities, and never stopped betting on me. I worked on The Sims for nearly 5 years, and then afterwards, I worked on console action games as part of the Visceral studio. I was the Creative Director for the 2007 game "The Simpsons", and was the Executive Producer and Creative Director for the 2009 game "Dante's Inferno".

[JK] I haven't played in a long while, but I do recall that after the game shipped, my wife and I played the retail version for some time -- we created ourselves, and experimented with having a baby ahead of the actual birth of our son (in 2007). Even though I'd been part of the development team, and understood deeply how the simulation worked, I was still continually surprised at how "real" our Sims felt, and how accurate their responses were to having a baby in the house. It really felt like "us"!

Now for some of the development and lore related questions:

[JK] So I ended up in the incredibly fortunate position of creating the shipping neighborhoods for The Sims 2, and recruiting a few teammates to help me as we went along. 

Around the same time, we started using the Buy/Build tools to make houses we could save, and also bring them into each new build of the game (correcting for any bugs and incompatibilities). With the import tool, we could load Sims into these houses. In time, this "vanguard QA" process turned into a creative endeavor to define the "saved state" of the neighborhoods we would actually end up shipping with the game.

On playtesting & the leftover sims data on various lots:

Basically, we were in the late stages of development, and the Save Game functionality wasn't quite working. In order to test the game properly, you really needed to have a lot of assets, and a lot of Sims with histories (as if you'd been playing them for weeks) to test out everything the game had to offer. So I started defining a set of characters in a spreadsheet, with all their tuning variables, and worked with engineering to create an importer, so that with each new build, I could essentially "load" a kind of massive saved game, and quickly start playing and testing. 

It was fairly organic, and as the game's functionality improved, so did our starter houses and families. 

The thought process behind the creation of the iconic three neighborhoods:

I would not say it was particularly planned out ahead of time. We knew we needed a few saved houses to ship with the game; Sims 1, after all, had the Goth house, and Bob Newbie's house. But there wasn't necessarily a clear direction for what the neighborhood would be for Sims 2. We needed the game to be far enough along, so that the neighborhood could be a proper showcase for all the features in the game. With each new feature that turned alpha, I had a new tool in my toolbox, and I could expand the houses and families I was working on. Once we had the multi-neighborhood functionality, I decided we would not just have 1 starter neighborhood, but 3. With the Aging feature, Memories, a few wacky objects, plus a huge catalog of architectural and decorative content, I felt we had enough material for 3 truly distinct neighborhoods. And we added a couple of people to what became the "Neighborhood Team" around that time.

Later, when we created Strangetown, and eventually Veronaville, I believe we went back and changed Pleasantville to Pleasantview... because I liked the alliteration of "Verona-Ville", and there was no sense in having two "villes". (To this day, by the way, I still don't know whether to capitalize the "V" -- this was hotly debated at the time!)

Pleasantview:

Anyway, to answer your question, we of course started with Pleasantview. As I recall, we were not quite committed to multiple neighborhoods at first, and I think it was called Pleasantville initially, which was kind of a nod to Simsville... but without calling it Simsville, which was a little too on the nose. (There had also been an ill-fated game in development at Maxis at the time, called SimsVille, which was cancelled.) It's been suggested that Pleasantville referred to the movie, but I don't think I ever saw that movie, and we just felt that Pleasantville kind of captured the feeling of the game, and the relaxing, simple, idyllic world of the Sims.

Pleasantview started as a place to capture the aging feature, which was all new to The Sims 2. We knew we had toddlers, teens, and elders to play with, so we started making families that reflected the various stages of family life: the single mom with 3 young kids, the parents with two teens, the old rich guy with two young gold-diggers, etc. We also had a much greater variety of ethnicity to play with than Sims 1, and we had all new variables like sexual orientation and memories. All these things made for rich fodder for a great diversity of families. Then, once we had family trees, and tombstones that carried the actual data for the dead Sims, the doors really blew open. We started asking ourselves, "What if Bella and Mortimer Goth could be characters in Sims 2, but aged 25 years? And what if Cassandra is grown up? And what if Bella is actually missing, and that could be a fun mystery hanging over the whole game?" And then finally the "Big Life Moments" went into the game -- like weddings and birthdays -- and we could sort of tee these up in the Save Game, so that they would happen within the first few minutes of playing the families. This served both as a tutorial for the features, but also a great story-telling device.

Anyway, it all just flowed from there, as we started creating connections between families, relationships, histories, family trees, and stories that we could weave into the game, using only the simulation features that were available to us. It was a really fun and creative time, and we wrote all of the lore of Sims 2 within a couple of months, and then just brought it to life in the game.

Strangetown:

Strangetown was kind of a no-brainer. We needed an alternate neighborhood for all the paranormal stuff the Sims was known for: alien abduction, male pregnancy, science experiments, ghosts, etc. We had the desert terrain, which created a nice contrast to the lush Pleasantville, and gave it an obvious Area 51 vibe.

The fact that Veronaville is the oldest file probably reflects the fact that it was finished first, not that it was started first. That's my guess anyway. It was the simplest neighborhood, in many ways, and didn't have as much complexity in terms of features like staged big life moments, getting the abduction timing right, the alien DNA thing (which I think was somewhat buggy up until the end), etc.  So it's possible that we simply had Veronaville "in the can", while we put the last polish on Pleasantville (which was the first and most important neighborhood, in terms of making a good impression) and Strangeville (which was tricky technically).

Veronaville:

But my personal favorite was Veronaville. We had this cool Tudor style collection in the Build mode catalog, and I wanted to ship some houses that showed off those assets. We also had the teen thing going on in the aging game, plus a lot of romance features, as well as enemies. I have always been a Shakespeare buff since graduate school, so putting all that together, I got the idea that our third neighborhood should be a modern-day telling of the Romeo and Juliet story. It was Montys and Capps (instead of Montagues and Capulets), and it just kind of wrote itself. We had fun creating the past family trees, where everyone had died young because they kept killing each other off in the ongoing vendetta.

[JK] You know, I have never seen The Lone Gunmen, and I don't remember making any kind of direct references with the Strangetown Sims, other than the general Area 51 theme, as you point out. Charles London helped out a lot with naming Sims, and I'm pretty sure we owe "Vidcund" and "Lazlo" to him ... though many team members pitched in creatively. He may have had something in mind, but for me, I largely went off of very generic and stereotypical ideas when crafting these neighborhoods. I kind of wanted them to be almost "groaners" ... they were meant to be tropes in every sense of the word. And then we snuck in some easter eggs. But largely, we were trying to create a completely original lore.

[JK] Well, I think we kind of pushed it with The Sims 2, to be honest, and I remember getting a little blow-back about Bunny Broke, for example. Bunny Broke was the original name for Brandi Broke. Not everyone found that funny, as I recall, and I can understand that. It must have been changed before we shipped.

We also almost shipped the first outwardly gay Sims in those neighborhoods, which was bold for EA back in 2004. My recollection was that we had set up the Dreamers to be gay (Dirk and Darren), but I'm looking back now and see that's not the case. So I'm either remembering incorrectly (probably) or something changed during development.

In general we just did things that we found funny and clever, and we just pulled from all the tropes of American life.

[JK] The alien abduction started in Sims 1, with a telescope object that was introduced in the "Livin' Large" expansion pack. That's when some of the wackier ideas got introduced into the Sims lore. That pack shipped just before I joined Maxis in 2001; when I got there, the team had shipped "House Party" and was underway on "Hot Date". So I couldn't tell you how the original idea came about, but The Sims had this 50's Americana vibe from the beginning, and UFOs kind of played right into that. So the alien abduction telescope was a no-brainer to bring back in Sims 2. The male pregnancy was a new twist on the Sims 1 telescope thing. It must have been that the new version (Sims 2) gave us the tech and flexibility to have male Sims become pregnant, so while this was turned "off" for the core game, we decided to take advantage of this and make a storyline out of it. I think this really grew out of the fact that we had aliens, and alien DNA, and so it was not complicated to pre-bake a baby that would come out as an alien when born. The idea of a bunch of guys living together, and then one gets abducted, impregnated, and then gives birth to an alien baby ... I mean, I think we just all thought that was hilarious, in a sit-com kind of way. Not sure there was much more to it than that. Everything usually came from the designers discovering ways to tweak and play with the tech, to get to funny outcomes.

[JK] Possibly we were just testing the functionality of the Wants/Fears and Memories systems throughout development, and some stuff got left over.

[JK] I can't remember, but that sounds like something we would have done! I'm pretty sure we laid the groundwork for more stories that we ended up delivering :) But The Sims 2 was a great foundation for a lot of continued lore that followed.

--

I once again want to thank Jonathan Knight for granting me this opportunity and taking the time from his busy schedule to answer my questions.

[little-fae-hero]

Linked Universe, Hero of the Winds

My headcanons/aus

Art by Atro Avis

Colored Version.

Long talk/ideas under the cut. Warning for general game violence and kidnapping. (Note: I may add stuff overtime but I will never delete from the list).

Twilight. Sky. Legend. Hyrule. Four. Time. War. Wild.

Wind (Wind Waker/Phantom hourglass). Other Nicknames: The Sailor, Pirate, The baby (hates this), Guppy (hates this as well), Island boy, Ocean child.

Hero’s Title: Hero of the Great Sea, Hero of the Winds, Hero of the Great Sea, Holder of the Wind Waker

God that has claim over his soul: Hylia (for the wisdom to actually find the pieces of the triforce)

Part of First’s soul: Childish Wonder (smallest piece).

History:

Link lived on an island with his sister and grandmother, and had a peaceful life like everyone in the great sea. He was given a green tunic when he turned 12, much to his annoyance. However his sister Aryll was kidnapped on his birthday, taken by a bird monster and he joins up with a pirate by the name of Tetra to get her back.

Through trying to get his sister back he learns that the Gerudo King Ganondorf is back, hunting for the Triforce, the Red king of the seas asks Link to take up the mantle of the hero. To which the young boy does, to make the seas safe for his family. He later learns the man’s reason, a place for his people; however he still tries to kill the hero and the princess. They actually succeed and plan to start another hyrule.

However This plan gets put on the back burner when Tetra and Link run across a ghost ship and Tetra goes missing, causing Link to start another adventure. Link get’s the phantom hourglass and a fairy and they go through the palace of the ocean king. He saved the great seas from the parasite known as Bellum and was finally able to go back home.

Death: Unknown…

Interesting Stuff/Headcanons:

has a sailor mouth from living around pirates. Others don’t let him swear (like grandma) but Time does.

The best thing to heal him is his grandmother’s soup. The chain learns how to cook it when they visit the Great Sea.

Link has a good sense of direction, to the point of it being scary. He doesn’t even need a map; it's like the wind tells him where to go.

Wind deals with a lot of self-doubt, he wasn’t born with the triforce of Courage, he had to find it and put it together unlike Tetra. So, he often feels like a fake.

He looks up to Time, since he was the hero of Time who once defeated Ganondorf, plus he also doesn’t treat Wind like he will break at any moment.

The others have a habit of jumping in to protect him, mainly because he reminds many of them of themselves of when they first started their adventures.

Wind actually prefers sandals since he lives on an island, but that’s not considered ‘proper shoes for combat’.

Wind cannot control his expression, whether in sneaking around or in combat, he cannot keep a poker face, which of course makes him terrible at keeping secrets.

Link has no concept of ‘personal items’ he grew up sharing stuff with his sister and then a pirate ship, everything is fair game, unless said otherwise or you're wearing it.

Anything he finds is worn as jewelry until he can get back home, to which the treasure is given to Aryll and Grandma.

He is actually really good with seagulls, I mean it’s not like his sister Aryll, but he can easily feed them without them getting startled.

He’s a great swimmer; however, his legs can get tired from a lot of walking, especially rocky paths, he doesn’t tell the group this.

No concept of ‘oh that’s dangerous’ will happily be shot out of a canon for the laughs.

Wind doesn’t have any piercing even though he wants to, any jewelry is limited to necklaces and ear wraps. 

Letters are a big comfort to Wind, as sometimes he panics that Aryll is missing, or grandma is sick again. The letters remind him that everything is fine.

Wind will fall into his big brother persona; he immediately will fuss others despite bringing the youngest of the group.

Besides looking up to Time, Wind also looks up to War, he doesn’t know why.

Koroks seems to really like Wind, he considered them his friends, Time doesn’t like the Koroks staying around or Wind going after them.

He cannot stand the cold because of growing up on an island. He’s in multiple layers or stealing others' scarves to keep warm.

Wind loves music, especially sea shanties, you will not know peace if one gets stuck in his head.

He knows how to shoot guns; he has one from Tetra and knows how to make ammo for it. It’s just very, very loud and he doesn’t like it.

He is slowly getting use to them and even started to build interesting items of his own.

He will correct anyone if they refer to Tetra as Zelda, since she prefers the name Tetra.

Wind loves fruit sense you can only really get them on islands, they are his favorite thing to snack on.

Wind sometimes realizes how stupid enemies can be, meaning he will sneak around them when others are planning something.

He is the most likely to do his own thing in battle and give the others heart attacks in the process.

The soul piece of the hero’s spirit is the smallest in Wind, it was the childlike wonder of the god, something the god couldn’t have a lot of considering his first life.

Because of this Wind doesn’t get the full burning in his chest that others might. But he does get the call to adventure.

[oppitfs]

Updating mine

MY TOP TEN FAVORITE JJK SHIPPS!!!!

10. SHOKOHIME

They stole Jogo and Hanami's place because I got it into my head that Jogo is like the grumpy grandfather and Hanai is the vegan aunt of the curse family! I like them. I think it's a ship with a lot of potential. I need to consume more content, but I love the fanarts!!!

9. HIGUNANA

This crack grew in me and now I'm suffering for them after the last chapter. In a kind universe, Higuruma and Nanami adopted Yuji and they live happily and happily!!! I think the two go together a lot and the fanfics are adorable! These Old Yaoi will be the death of me!!!!

8. CHOSOYUKI

They've come down a little, but man I still love them!!! Even more so now because my thirst for Choso awakened and I started reading fanfics of him being a good big brother and I fell to my knees! I still want to write more and explore his relationship with Yuji. And God, YUKI IS AMAZING!!!! THEY DESERVED TO STAY TOGETHER, AKUTAMI YOU DAMN IT!!!!

7. HIGUKUSA

A friend on twt is feeding me higukusa art and, god, this crack (not so crack, because that "I'll protect you even if I have to die for it" from kusakabe hit me hard) has taken root in my heart! I'm also obsessed with Higuruma, so I combined the useful with the pleasant!

6. INUOKKO

THEY ARE CUTE OKAY!!!! I AM OBSESSED WITH CREATING HCS FOR THEM!!! I don't consume much of their stuff, but all the fanart I've seen is cute and their participation in the itafushi fics I read is always welcome!!! It's kind of strange to read something where they're not together…

5. NOBAMAKI

MY OPINION HAS NOT CHANGED, OKAY??? NOBAMAKI IS WONDERFUL AND I WOULD KILL TO HAVE MORE OF THEM!!! But since I saw Nobara's flashback I've been wondering if Fumi wouldn't be a good ship too? Does anyone have a fanfic/fanart of him, by the way??? ANYWAY, NOBAMAKI IS STILL MY FAVORITE!!!

4. KIRAKARI

I'M IN LOVE WITH KIRARA!!!! SHE AND HAKARI ARE THE ONLY HEALTHY THINGS IN THIS MISERABLE MANGA!!!! I love imagining what their relationship is like, writing hcs slice to life minis and drawing Kirara! But I'm getting worried because I saw someone saying that Kirara could appear in the Hakari x Urame fight to help her boyfriend and I know what's going to happen and I don't want it to happen! GEGE GET THESE DIRTY CLAWS AWAY FROM MY BABIES!!!!

3. SATOSUGU

YOU RUINED BLACK AND WHITE FOR ME, YOU DEPRESSED BITCHES!!! My friend is obsessed with them and boy can I understand! These two are tragic, with a beautiful dynamic and a happy ending(?). Plus they fucked up my Christmas Eve. I hope these two bitches are causing terror in heaven!

2. ITAFUSHI!!!!

If you've known me for more than a second, you'll know that I have an average of five outbreaks a day because of these two. This whole thing about always trying to save others even if it condemns them destroys me, okay??? Fanfics and fanarts also feed me! And I'm going to convince all my friends to ship this too so I can yell at 2am at them about little details of their dynamic! AND THEY MATCH SO MUCH!!! Of course, no more than our first place!!!!

.

.

.

EVERYONE X THERAPY!!!

Please let the deaths stop and this become canon

Honorable mention for _ Tojikuna (more because a twt artist is obsessed with them and that rubbed off on me) _ Hainana _ Toji x Mamagumi _ Okkofushi (Yuta was Megumi's first crush and you can't get that out of my head) _ Uraume x Sukuna (one-sided) _ Yuta x Maki

[numberonetribble]

A smile tugged at the corner of Megatron mouth and a deep laugh came from the former warlord, "All the audacity of a Decepticon and all the spark of an Autobot! You truly are your Creator's sparkling Little Bug!"

"SHUT UP!" Piston's hands trembled, they'd never held a weapon before and didn't realize how heavy it could be.

My Earthspark Part 2 and 2.5 comic! Thank you so much everybody for your patience, I hope you liked it! I'm also happy to finally announce, Piston's secret ability: Sonic Scream! Thoughts in the undercut!

Hello! I am here to contact you about your car's extended warranty!

Q/A Time! (I won't answer everything hehehehe if I don't say here feel free to send me an ask!)

Q: What just happened?!

A: One night while Piston was hanging out at the air strip, a Cybertronian ship crash lands. They don't know it's Prowl's ship. Piston is growing up around mechs who talk about the war, they see all these videos, and their major take away? If you want something, act quickly. Example: "The mighty Megatron has fallen! I, STARSCREAM am the new leader of the Decepticons!"

Piston is an easily impressionable child. They don't understand nuance. Piston's plan is quite simple, they're going to force Optimus and Megatron to go get that ship so their family can go back to Cybertron.

Piston can change their optic colors, (need to look the part) and hand weapons are plentiful you just need to know where Sire hides them in the house. This shouldn't be too hard, Starscream challenged Megatron all the time and he's fine. Plus, Megatron likes Piston! Optimus? Optimus not so much. In retrospective that Starscream poster was a bad idea huh? :)

(AIM. HIGH. Baby. Hold the weapon HIGHER!!!!)

Q: Why did Piston's optics change back to yellow for a second??

A: When Piston was born, Bumblebee installed a Parental Lock to prevent Piston from triggering their Combat Mode. He wanted them to have an as normal childhood as they could. He planned to tell them about it once their age matched their frame size. I headcannon that new Cybertronian's don't have control over their defense systems until their older. Normally this isn't a problem for sparklings as their don't have their weapons yet, by the time they do, they have control over it. (Please imagine small sparklings with their battle masks covering their faces and extra armor active when upset) Piston does not have control over it and their have their Stinger.

How this lock works is whenever Piston experiences intense negative emotions, anger, fear, guilt, etc, the frame's natural defenses want to deploy, but can't. Piston locks up and freezes instead. The Parental Lock will reset Piston back to a neutral state. Hence the yellow optics.

Piston does not know about this lock as Piston is a naturally happy Sparkling. Breakdown does not know Piston has this either. On a rare occasion, he's seen Piston get really upset, freeze, and then act like nothing happened. He thought it was weird but Piston seems fine so it's probably fine???

When Megatron reaches for Piston, THAT'S when the Combat Mode is triggered and Piston freezes.

The only way for this lock to come off is if Bumblebee takes it off, OR in extreme dire circumstances. IE; the frame takes on too much damage and it's life threatening. The system requires a moment to reset. This is why Piston freezes when Nova Storm catches them in the woods. Bumblebee finds them in the middle of a reset and doesn't allow it to come off.

Here, Megatron ripped off Piston's wings. Bumblebee is too shocked to remember the lock. When Piston hears him agree with Optimus, enough is enough. Baby is experiencing rage for the first time in their life.

Honestly I didn't intended for Part Two to have a 2.5 but I didn't want to leave it on a cliff hanger. Here is where I had to cut myself off as it could've gone on forever. The paper sketches are from January 16th I did during my breaks at work, (consistent art style? don't know her) The tube started off as a joke to fill in plot holes but that is my emotional support tube now. Bumblebee never gets to hold his baby!

Thank you so much for all the kind words of encouragement and I apologize for taking so long! There is going to be a part 3 and 4 but I won't be announcing those, they'll just appear, but not for awhile because I want to see Piston happy!!!!!!!

[silentmoths]

These hands, Unblemished.

Emerges from your dry wall

been a while, huh?

Mark moth writing SOMETHING in the first half of 2025 off your bingo cards.

anyway, this was spurred on after yesterday's stream, where i had a totally very normal reaction to seeing Blade appear in the anniversary art.

Mid crash-out, @pranabefall sent me this image as well which only sent me into another spiral, especially when I noticed Blade's hands. ungloved, unbanaged for free.

and the thought that either Blades hands have been unscarred and perfect this entire time, or they regrow completely fresh and baby soft and uh...yeah my fucking brain wouldn't let it go so here we are.

ANYWAY

Blade x Reader, SFW

Mentions of death, slight mentions of gore, other than that it's just two nocturnal rats doing nocturnal rat things.

The hum of the ship was nothing but white noise to you now. A soothing purr that permeated the entire rig of the small star-voyager you and the other stellaron hunters called home.

She was a little fancier than some other models built around the same time, Kafka had insisted on making sure the one she…procured, (stolen most likely) had the day-night cycle lighting system, for her beauty sleep, she claimed.

(it was her quiet way of taking care of you all, she would never say it out loud, but she worried after her little group of wanted misfits worse than a mother hen…even if she had her own weird ways of showing it.)

For the now however, it’s just you, in the dimmed light of the kitchen, watching the kettle boil at the ripe hour of three in the morning. One of those weird nights where sleep refused to settle into your bones, no matter how heavy your eyes felt. A little peckish perhaps, that’s what was keeping you up, nothing a cup of instant noodles couldn’t fix. 

You throw away the dried vegetable packet, no matter how long you soaked those things in the hot water they never softened up to anything halfway edible, and you dump the chicken broth powder into the cup as you wait for the inexorable boiling of the electric jug, body half-slumped against the cool metal of the counter.

Thats when you hear it, the slow, soft thud of footsteps in the hall; you knew them all by sound now no matter if shoes were on or off. (a trauma response? Perhaps, who was to say, childhood had not been kind, and one had to learn when to pretend to be doing something else, not today.) “Welcome back to the land of the living.” You sigh as Blade shuffles into view of the doorway. If there was only a single word one could use to describe how his day had been? Rough. Although, kafka now owed you fifty credits for him being up before ‘dawn’, that was a plus. Blade was not as stone faced as people seemed to believe. He was not some cold, unfeeling gargoyle, much as you think he sometimes wished he was. Beneath the exterior he worried over his teammates almost as much, if not more than Kafka did. And surprisingly, there was even a touch of humor in there, if you knew where to look. “Unfortunately.” He mutters as he shambles in; his regular coat and trousers currently being fixed…again…that had a tendency to happen when their wearer often found himself being torn apart; he might be able to stitch himself back together, but his clothes were another story entirely. For now it was the regular ‘he died again’ scrubs. Simply something to throw onto him as his body mended so none of the ladies on board (all of them, unless you counted elio) didn’t have to see him naked all the time, even if he didn’t care.

He looked a mess, you were sure Kafka had only cut his hair recently, and yet his tousled bangs looked even messier than usual, one eye completely eclipsed by navy, the other was distinctly exhausted, the kind of exhaustion that never seemed to leave him, but with the added weight of his mara, and what the curse of his revival added. 

“Unfortunately.” You hum with a small nod as he shambles up beside you, the warmth of his newly regenerated body radiating a little, as it always seemed to for the next twelve or so hours after a death, “One day.”

“One day…” He parrots, not entirely there, not entirely uncommon either. “Hungry?” You question, knowing his response would be unhelpful, but also knowing him well enough that he wouldn’t turn down food if it was made for him, much to his chagrin. (wasteful, he would always claim, he never ate for pleasure, simply for the nutrients…thats what he claimed anyway…if left to his own devices you were all sure he would eat nothing but plain rice, not aboard this ship.) “Mh..there’s little point.” He mutters, gaze following as you disregard his response and reach up to the top shelf for another cup; you had to keep yours up here, lest Silver Wolf snag them, the problem therein being that you weren't exactly much taller than she was.

Your fingers brush against the cup, but instead of gripping, they push the cup further from your grasp. Just as you move to press up onto your toes, Blade beats you to it; fingers brushing softly against your own as he clasps at the cup, bringing it down to the counter for you. Your gaze follows, but not the cup, brow furrowing.

“Your hands…” 

His tired eyes follow your gaze down to his hands as he sets the cup on the counter, and turns his hands over, not quite understanding what the problem was. “They sustained heavy damage when I was on my mission…I assume Kafka cut the old ones off once she and firefly collected my corpse… or I lost them before then and did not realize” A morbid thought to be sure, but not entirely new for him. However the thing that was getting you was that in this state, freshly awoken from the only peaceful rest he ever seems to get, he had forgone the usual bandages and gloves…and his hands were… “Smooth…” You mumble, reaching out to run your fingers along the back of his palm, unblemished, unmarred skin silky beneath your fingers “soft…” 

Blade says nothing, watching as you simply stroke his hand, his face is unreadable, but considering he wasn’t pulling away, or making a remark, it wasn’t entirely disliked…at least that’s what you hope when curiosity gets the better of you, and you gently take that hand and turn it over, spreading your fingers out along his palm. 

His hands were larger, obviously, the tips of your fingers reaching just above the second knuckle’s of his own; with all the heavy training and how recklessly he used his sword, his past life, you expected roughness, callouses and time-worn skin.

You’re met with that same smooth softness, the kind that most women would likely kill for, the kind that would be totally lost on a man like Blade, and yet he lets you keep touching. 

“The extremities of my limbs, and my head always seem to regenerate like this.” He mutters after a while, sounding somewhat frustrated. Deep down, there was the dog in his heart that bore its teeth and raised it’s hackles, angry at his curse, and angry that it seemed to pick and choose what bore permanent marks and what did not; did lan really have such perverse tastes? 

“If so…why do you wear the gloves?” your question comes from a place of genuine curiosity, assuming that it had been to hide away the scarring, to appear as ‘normal’ as possible. Blade considers this for a moment before slowly pulling his hand away from your touch.

His answer is…far more sentimental than you expected, for a man who claimed he was nothing but a tool without need for such things as sentiment. 

“These hands have spilled a lot of blood…” He tells you after a moment, he stares down at his knuckles, flexing his fingers as if really looking at them for the first time “Too much…They don’t deserve to touch those I hold respect for.” 

It’s a quiet admission, something that twists your heart a little. He wasn’t heartless, he wasn't stone, he was not a statue, or a mindless robot, yet he would always try and treat himself as such. “These hands haven’t.” you point out matter of factly as the kettle finally boils “these ones aren’t even a day old, they’re innocent.”

“That which they are attached to is not.” He retorts; not even referring to himself as a person, watching with quiet intensity as you pour the water. You add the vegetables into his cup, for some reason Blade actually seemed to enjoy them, strange creature he was. 

“So? Why do they have to suffer?” You chuckle softly, resting pairs of chopsticks atop the flimsy paper lids to keep the steam in “that’s like…I dunno, denying a child candy because the parent is a dentist.”

A strange correlation, you blame it on three-am delirium. 

You expect him to huff, to pout in his own way, which was just going silent and refusing to respond.

You don’t expect those soft fingers to gently brush against your cheek, fingers tracing the line of your jaw, before lifting to carefully tuck a stray lock of tousled hair behind your ear, an act so unbelievably tender from Blade of all people, you knew Kafka would never believe you in the morning if you told her. 

You blink up at him, his one visible eye glowing softly in the dimmed light of the kitchen. His expression is the same sort of unreadable it always was, but beneath you could swear you see something…soft, softer than usual. 

“Perhaps.” Is all he says to you as he takes his cup of noodles from the counter, turns and slowly shuffles from the kitchen, leaving you alone with your own steeping cup and a soft warmth spreading across your face. 

Just what the hell was that? You were…stunned, left staring at the door dumbfounded. 

Had he hit his head a little too hard before he died? Of all the strange and borderline outlandish things Blade had ever done, of which there had really not been many; it was horrifically unlike him to touch. He always kept to himself, hands always kept close, never reaching unless it was for a utilitarian reason; to pull someone out of the way…never just to touch.

Perhaps your words had resonated with him in some strange way.

Or perhaps, just perhaps, you had bore witness to an incredibly rare moment of…you don’t want to call it weakness, that’s not what it was…a moment of acceptance perhaps? Acceptance that he was not always the cruel and unfeeling monster he claims he was. It’s enough that, after a long moment of figuring yourself out, you grab your cup and trudge from the kitchen (after turning off the lights, waste not what not and all that).

Surprisingly, he’s in the common room, perhaps not yet willing to return to his own cabin, the innate need to move after being dead for a little while perhaps? The cabins on the ship were a little small, perhaps he just wanted some semblance of ‘fresh’ air? Either way, he sits, hunched on the couch like an angsty gargoyle, quietly picking at his meal. Molten gaze flicking up to you a moment before returning to his food. Blade often held an air of grace about him in the things he did, the kind of Xianzhou mannerisms that ran deeper than even his mara could reach.

And yet, as you take a seat beside him to eat, you note that most of that grace is gone for the now, replaced with a tired sort of apathy, it was late, you were both eating junky, sodium ridden noodles, who the hell cared about being ‘proper’ at a time like this?

Neither one of you speaks, it didn’t seem proper to in a time like this, your own gaze lingers on the porthole window, watching the stars and the galaxy quietly twinkling outside in the vast nothingness of space. Meagre meals are eaten and cups are left on the coffee table; it seemed to have done the trick, tire finally beginning to seep into your bones like it should have hours ago. You’re about to wish Blade goodnight when he breaks the silence first.

“You seemed…shocked at the state of my hands.” Blade states more than he asks, his gaze lingering on fresh fingers, unmarred and unblemished. “Just surprised really..” you admit with a shrug “I think this is the first time I’ve seen you not wearing gloves or with them bandaged…” 

For a moment, Blade looks like he’s about to answer, his brow furrows slightly in thought, but an answer never comes, instead you watch as his gaze seems to shift, to somewhere far away from the quiet comfort of the ship, somewhere you don’t know. 

You’d pried too deep, pushed too far, that much you could tell, and yet Blade never saw reason to snap when it happened. This was his response, silence, distance. Perhaps his reasons for keeping his hands covered was something akin to fear, to trauma…perhaps it was something as simple as it being a comfort..either way, it wasn’t something he was willing to share right now. You shrug, breaking the tension as you lean against him, a casual move, something that surprises even you; like this, he feels more approachable, and perhaps, a man in need of reassurance, a man who never allowed vulnerability, not for himself, vulnerability opened pathways to pain, and anguish, something you’re sure he’s experienced more than enough of on his own personal quest for vengeance. “It’s fine.” you chuckle, waving it off “you don’t have to answer, it wasn’t even a question really…just curious, don’t think too hard about it.”

“Foolish.” He mutters, you feel his shoulder shift beneath your leaning frame, making things slightly more comfortable for you; dangerous perhaps as your eyelids grow heavier, harder to keep open with every blink. “...perhaps…one day.” The closest thing to an admission you might get from him, at least. “We’ll see then, hm?” You chuckle, taking his hand again to quietly run a thumb over his knuckles.

“We will…” he nods, his head slowly turning to look you in the face, “Sleep.”

“Mh, but that means getting up.” You sigh, perhaps a little too comfortable where you were. 

Much like his sudden touch in the kitchen, you’re thrown off when he shifts again, an arm slowly draping over your shoulders, pulling you closer into his side, sinfully comfortable and blessedly warm…you hadn’t realized how chilly you’d grown until then as he weight of his arm slowly comes to rest. “I’ll stay a while.” He mutters, his gaze slowly fixing on the porthole now, his voice still distant, far off “Sleep…” You swear you feel his fingers slowly stroke at your hair as you drift off, quiet measures of comfort that draw you in faster than you expect. Kafka is the one to find you both the next morning, a sly smile creeping to her lips as she quickly snaps a photo to show silver wolf and firefly later: you, fast asleep with your head resting against his shoulder, Blade also surprisingly asleep, his head resting softly atop your own, looking peaceful for once. One arm still draped across you, the other with your hand resting in his. She considers being a bitch and waking you both, but she decides to leave it be for now, Firefly wouldn’t be up for another hour yet, and Silver Wolf even later still..what was the harm in letting you both sleep. She does however, begrudgingly leave the fifty credits on the coffee table. A bet was a bet.

[slitherinfest]

🐍 Slither In Fest Masterlist

Huge thank you to all of our talented participants! We love and appreciate all your enthusiasm for bottom Tom | Voldemort content in this fandom. 👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼

Here is a list of all our fantastic entries this year! (Please comment here if you don't see your Tumblr @'ed, so we can add it!)

💚 Karma’s a bitch by @albondiguilla007 4,130 | Completed | E | Ship: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle

Tom betrays Harry. Harry’s not happy about it.

💚 Resonating Souls by @endlessburningdarkness 4,063 | Completed | E | Ship: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort

Minister Riddle has an unusually dream filled night.

💚 To Corrupt a Unicorn by beanclip 4,766 | Completed | E | Ship: Tom Riddle/Hepzibah Smith, Tom Riddle/Original Male Character(s)

Blood, fear, and ancient, untouched books. Amortentia.

💚 To be Entwined by @cyandenial 5,055 | Completed | E | Ship: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle

Harry and Tom grew up together, and it's more than just a brotherly bond that connected them.

💚 as sweet as blood red jam by @cindle-writes 4,974 | Completed | E | Ship: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle

Tom meets Harry for the first time at a Ministry function that Tom’s attending as Minister Diggory’s plus-one.

💚 delicatus by @cindle-writes 4,974 | Completed | E | Ship: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle

Lord Voldemort is an instructive Lord-Father-God-Master-Papa.

💚 forgive me father by @cindle-writes 2,396 | Completed | E | Ship: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle

Tom sneaks into his father’s bed and touches himself while Harry lies sleeping next to him, unawares.

💚 Pink Shorts by @crowcrowcrowthing 5,574 | Completed | E | Ship: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort

Tom was very good at pilates. Harry had a problem with that.

💚 Aliquot (sequel to Pink Shorts) by @crowcrowcrowthing, @cindle-writes 4,644 | Completed | E | Ship: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort

Harry and Tom continue fucking on every available surface.

💚 synoptic by @duplicitywrites 1,380 | WIP | E | Ship: Tom Riddle/Tom Riddle

Fifty years in isolation is enough to drive anyone a bit mad.

💚 Is It Baby Trapping if I Didn’t Actually Want to Trap You? by @dearestdo3 12,398 | WIP | M | Ship: Orion Black/Tom Riddle, Walburga Black/Orion Black, Walburga Black/Tom Riddle

Tom Riddle just wanted to scam Lord Black so he'll have enough money to run away from Wizarding Britain for good.

💚 french affair by @heyob 2,693 | Completed | E | Ship: Rodolphus Lestrange/Tom Riddle | Voldemort

Rodolphus Lestrange was willing to do anything to avoid getting married, even if he has to get caught fucking the Dark Lord.

💚 Premium Pussy by @hopeforthewitch 3,200 | Completed | E | Ship: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle

Tom shouldn't, but he has favourites, case in point: James Black.

💚 Fake Boyfriend by J0305 2,432 | WIP | M | Ship: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle

Tom needs a boyfriend, and Harry is the perfect one for him.

💚 Taking Feet Pics Is Serious Business by Just_praises 2,151 | WIP | E | Ship: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle

Tom didn't think selling feet pics would end up sustaining his entire livelihood.

💚 Slow Soak by @lyceana 1,431 | WIP | E | Ship: Rubeus Hagrid/Tom Riddle, Whomping Willow/Tom Riddle

These tender roots need to soak in water. They'll slowly grow, but it will be worth the wait, or this it what he's praying for.

💚 Your Wish, My Command by @moontearpensfic 3,987 | WIP | E | Ship: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle

Tom wants to deepen his relationship with his father. If only his "mother" wasn't in the way…

💚 throne sex by @zolpidem105 Art | Completed | E | Ship: Harry Potter/Voldemort

harry potter is an undercover auror. voldemort is lord voldemort.

💚 family friends by @reggieblk 12,279 | Completed | E | Ship: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle

Harry had always considered Tom to be a little brother of sorts.

💚 Make a wish by @sri-verse 2,664 | WIP | E | Ship: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort, Horcrux/Harry Potter

An attempt to fulfill an innocent childhood wish of a gold cauldron has some unforeseen consequences for Harry James Potter.

💚 i wanna have sex with you (your sweet caress won't do) by @ujiin 8,061 | Completed | E | Ship: Tom Riddle/Tom Riddle Sr.

Tom Sr is horrified to find out that his son is the lowest of the low in society.

💚 compromising positions by @virgil-anon 2,294 | Completed | E | Ship: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort

He was Tom Riddle! (He was Tom Potter) ((He was Lord Voldemort))

💚 An Abundance of Riddles by Anonymous 1,223 | WIP | E | Ship: Tom Riddle | Voldemort/Tom Riddle | Voldemort

November 1st, 1981, Tom Riddle wakes up in the cave and learns that he used to be the Locket Horcrux.

💚 Time in a Whiskey Bottle by Anonymous 5,401 | Completed | E | Ship: Rubeus Hagrid/Tom Riddle

Stripper Tom & Rubeus Hagrid fall in love at the club.

💚 Ride it Like It's Quidditch by Anonymous 2,163 | Completed | E | Ship: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort

Tom hates Harry and plans on making him kneel.

[anonymouscheeses]

Can you draw Showtime and Bunnydoll?

Day one of drawing and rating your fav ships!

FIRST UP: Showtime!! Imm giving this a 6/10! Im not 100% sure how i feel about this ship? I love them but also i dont care about Caine so... but hey, still a really solid ship! Plus sm-baby's art really makes me wanna contribute more to this ship aaa

Bonus! This is totaly how they kiss bros just a normal kiss 😈

[vanishedinvain]

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒'𝐋𝐋 𝐁𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈 𝐃𝐈𝐄

—𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞: 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥-𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡

pairing: benedict bridgerton x fem!reader (but she doesn't show up yet, sorry lol)

summary: benedict's last moment of contentment before the storm that marooned his dreams.

warnings: very very brief mention of a gun, baby's first fic (it's me, i'm baby)

wc: 1.6k

next chapter // series masterlist

The Wiminet Art House sits just outside the limits of Mayfair, owned by the Dowager Baroness Lyra Wiminet. It is only half the size of a wing at Somerset House, and most of the artists are either anonymous or so unknown, they are as good as anonymous. It crams in an overwhelming number of pieces, barely a centimeter between each frame. It features a myriad of styles: soft landscapes, portraits, absurd finger-paintings, violent war scenes. 

When it first opened, every London newspaper dismissed it as the eccentricity of a widow, mad without a man to guide her. There was no cohesion, they said. Downright tasteless. Where was the class? The refinement? It was a laughingstock for all of two days before the ton moved on as they always did.

It was also Benedict Bridgerton’s most frequented gallery. And Eloise had no idea why.

“You have been here at least twenty times in the past year, and they have only changed a single painting,” Eloise pointed out on one of these trips. Though she did not prefer to visit the same blasted gallery with the same blasted paintings, it was more merciful than watching Daphne and their mother flit about the house searching for the perfect dress to secure a proposal from the Prussian prince.

Plus her brother promised to buy her an apricot ice afterwards.

“What could possibly be left to see?” she asked.

They were standing in front of a rather large seascape, one that spanned a quarter of the wall. Benedict turned away to look at Eloise, a grimace upon her face as she tried to see what her brother saw. It was a quality Benedict most appreciated in her; she was stubborn and quick to snark, but she never wrote off his interests as frivolous. She was attempting to understand, even if she was staring at the painting like it personally offended her.  

“Do you remember when you were eleven and Colin brought home that mystery novel for all of us? The one where an opera singer was killed in the middle of a show.”

“An Aria Most Deadly,” she recalled, smiling, “I couldn’t put it down. Col was scolded for bringing home such a—how did Mama word it?—terribly gruesome and improper book.”

He chuckled, remembering their mother’s scandalized face. As Colin was being scolded, she had set the book down on the settee. Eloise, ever nimble, snatched it and ran up to her room with nary a scuff across the floor.

“You re-read it over and over, looking for the clues, even after you’d finished it days prior. A snide comment from the stagehand that was once humorous turned dark. The author’s insistence on describing the location of the candelabra suddenly became obvious.”

“The details were so much clearer in hindsight,” she remarked.

“That is usually the privilege of hindsight.” He gestured back to the painting in front of them. “What do you see?”

She stared for a moment, tilting her head to one side to see if a change in angle would help. It was a turbulent scene, violent even, with outbursts of red and orange screaming amongst the cerulean and imposing slate clouds as the ship went down.

“A shipwreck?” Eloise answered with a shrug. “An unfortunately timed storm?”

Benedict stepped back, and grabbed Eloise by the shoulders, shifting her to the right so that she could stand in his place. “Do you see that spot of red on the ship?”

She squinted slightly. “Clearly, a fire broke out on the ship. Likely from the gunpowder catching on the wood. I mean, it says it in the title, Ship on Fire in Water,” she said, reading off the plaque underneath.

“But look closer at this spot of red at the front of the ship. Or that one by the captain’s quarters. Compare it to how the artist paints the flames,” Benedict insisted, gesturing to each area of interest. “He or she blends out the flames with orange and a bit of yellow usually. But these particular spots aren’t. They’re blended with brown. Maybe even a bit of black. That’s not fire, is it?”

Her eyebrows raised as the realization dawned on her. “It’s blood! Someone was killed. The captain, maybe?” She turned back to look at him in unbridled excitement at the newly-uncovered narrative.

Benedict smiled widely, crinkles forming around his eyes, watching his little sister finally get it, get him. “Possibly.”

“What do you think was the motive? Was it a mutiny?”

He shrugged. “That I am unsure of, dear sister. Every time I come back, I see something new. So, perhaps we need to look at it longer. Or make our rounds and come back with fresh eyes.”

Eloise had bounded off before he even finished.

They spent another two hours in the gallery, making little comments on each one, attempting to decipher a story from it. They even requested a step-ladder for the ones that had been skied because Benedict, having met Lady Wiminet, knew that there was no rhyme or reason as to the placement of each painting.

There was a most brilliant park scene about half a meter down from the ceiling. The artist did not draw a realistic, soft sunset, but a heightened one with punchy plums and a bright tangerine shade to blend. It was a bold choice that Benedict would’ve never thought of. The scene itself was of a promenade, much to Eloise’s displeasure, but she found amusement in mapping out the interpersonal relationships of the swans in the lake.

They made their way back to the bloodied, fiery ship shipwreck, standing in amicable silence before Eloise spoke.

“I understand it now. Why you've been here twenty times. Why you sketch until your fingers shake at dinner, but then use your drawings as fire kindle at night. You’re chasing greatness.”

“I want to get one of mine on these walls one day, El,” he said quietly, as if they weren’t the only people in the room. It was the first time he had admitted that ambition out loud.

“You will,” she replied, equally quiet back.

He sighed in relief. He wasn’t worried about Eloise’s reaction, though her vote of confidence was cherished. He was worried about being so unworthy that the words would refuse to roll off his tongue, lodging in his throat as a croak. But the idea was out there now, and a mirthful giddiness sprouted forth in the soil where his insecurities were rooted.

“I’d be anonymous, though,” he added after a pause.

She frowned, but neither of them made further comments on the subject. He already understood what she didn't verbalize. She dreaded living and dying in anonymity without a university degree or prolific novel attached to her name, something to outlast her that wasn’t a dullard husband or terrifying child. She could not stand the thought that the world might feel zero impact from her existence. 

Benedict, however, was far less eager to sign his name on a canvas. He could be displayed in any gallery in England if he simply asked, regardless of whether he was even good enough. Who would dare criticize a Bridgerton painting, with nine generations of viscounts breathing down their necks? If he were to ever put his name on any of his work, he wanted—needed—to be so good that everyone would be too awestruck by what was in front of them to check whose name was etched onto the little copper plaque beneath the frame.

This was one of the only points of incongruence between the second eldest Bridgerton brother and sister that couldn’t be remedied by a simple anecdote or shift to the right. Though, perhaps there was no need for one; a painter would never ask a writer to adjust her palette and a writer would never tell a painter his meter was off-tempo.

It was an afternoon well spent away from the ornery obligations of the social season, coming home with their appetites spoiled from the promised apricot ices. Benedict grabbed An Aria Most Deadly from the library, and read the first few chapters before retiring for the night. He’d finished the novel after he pried it away from Eloise years ago, so he knew it was the conductor who had killed the opera singer. This knowledge only pulled the deftly placed clues into crisp focus upon this second reading; even the first chapter was littered with hints.

Perhaps that is why when he sits in the viscount’s study, the one that was never supposed to go to him, he often thinks about the night of Granville’s party. That night began with him feeling so alive, more alive than he could ever fathom. Yet, it ended with a sinking stone of dread taking up a months-long residence in the pit of his stomach.

Were there clues he should’ve seen?

If he’d been less drunk off the wine or the women or both, he’d have noticed Daphne wasn’t wearing the necklace gifted to her by the prince, even though he clocked the ostentatious clunk of jewelry when she left for the Trowbridge Ball. Or that the hem of her dress was muddy and her face was pinched, on the verge of tears.

If he wasn’t so preoccupied with how to take advantage of his freedoms as the spare of the family, he’d have noticed the blooming violet bruises on Anthony’s knuckles as he yanked Benedict into the study with considerable force.

It wasn’t until he was rolling his shoulder, about to complain that his arm could've been popped out of its socket, when the gun box was placed on the desk with a resounding thud. 

Things only clicked into place as Anthony began frantically talking about estates and dowries and an appointment with the duke at dawn, but there were signs from the moment he walked in the door.

The details were always so much clearer in hindsight.

next chapter // series masterlist

a/n: they dropped new abc pictures last month, and i decided to make it everyone else's problem by starting this fic. now it’s bridgerton eve!!! rejoice!!!

[sturnsblogs]

INTRODUCTION

NICK STURNIOLO X TATTOO!ARTIST!MATEO

21. Gay. Genuine. Playful. Bossy. Sarcastic. Blunt. Fast talker. Chaotic. Causes chaos (good way). Loyal. Caring. Sweet.

21. Bisexual. Independent. Creative. Artistic. Gets lost in art. Quiet. Gentle. Shows love. Art lover. Loyal. Slightly sensitive.

—

Nick walked into the tattoo shop, the familiar smell of ink, antiseptic, and faint music filling the air. He was used to the place, having been a regular for a while. He made a beeline for the counter, scanning the room for Cindy, the artist who had done most of his tattoos. As he reached the front desk, he noticed a guy with brown curly hair sitting at a table near the window, sketching something in a notebook. His fingers were smudged with ink, and he looked completely absorbed in his drawing.

Nick tapped lightly on the front desk, his voice low but playful, “Um… excuse me?”

The guy looked up, a small but warm smile pulling at his lips as he set down his pencil. “Hey there, what’s up?” he asked, his tone easy-going and friendly.

“Hi, I was supposed to meet Cindy today for my appointment. Is she around?” Nick asked, shifting on his feet slightly, a hint of impatience in his tone, not used to waiting.

The guy’s smile faltered, his eyes dropping for a moment before he spoke again. “Oh… I’m really sorry, man. Cindy actually quit last week,” he said, shrugging a bit, though he seemed genuinely apologetic. “She left kind of suddenly.”

Nick’s eyes widened in surprise, and he felt his stomach drop. “No way… really?” he dragged the words out with a hint of sadness in his voice, clearly disappointed. He had been looking forward to this session for weeks, and now he wasn’t sure what to do.

The curly-haired guy seemed to notice Nick’s dismay and pushed his notebook aside, his expression softening. “Yeah, I know, it’s a bummer. She was great. But, hey, I can help you out if you want. I’m Mateo,” he said, extending a hand across the counter. “I’m new here. I just started last week. But if you’re interested, I can take a look at your design and see if I can do it for you.”

Nick hesitated for a second, unsure about letting a new guy tattoo him, but something about Mateo’s calm demeanor and the way he didn’t push him made Nick feel more at ease. He took a breath and shook Mateo’s hand, the disappointment still lingering but beginning to fade. “I guess… I’d like to see what you can do. I trust the shop, you know?” he said, his voice a bit lighter now.

Mateo smiled, a spark of excitement in his eyes. “I appreciate that,” he replied. “Let me take a look at your design, and we can go from there.” He gestured toward a chair, motioning for Nick to take a seat. “We can chat about the idea, and I’ll show you a few of my designs while you’re here. I might not be Cindy, but I’m pretty good with the needle.”

Nick sat down, still trying to adjust to the idea of a new artist. But as he looked around the shop, he saw that it had the same vibe he loved. It was relaxed, welcoming, and full of talented artists. He figured this might not be so bad after all. Plus, Mateo seemed cool, and the way he spoke with such confidence gave Nick a sense of reassurance.

“Well, alright, Mateo,” Nick said with a small grin. “Let’s see what you’ve got. I’ve got this idea for a sleeve, and I want something a little different than usual…”

—

My beautiful babies- @blushsturns @starrii-sturns @izzylovesmatt @chrisslut04 @jimmasterflashh @oopsiedaisydeer @csturnioloswifey @just-a-girl-1 @sturdyyolo @sturnslvtt @sturnbows @sturniolosrtewsexy @chriss-slutt @franticroads @thecrawlys @ribbonlovergirl @freshlyinlovewchris @whore4chris @matts-girlfriend

LET ME KNOW HOW WE FEEL ABOUT THIS CUTE LITTLE SHIP (: I FELT LIKE NICK NEEDED MORE APPRECIATION.

[moxanji-real]

I’m so amazed with how this turned out! I’ve been dreaming of having art of Moxie in her Whole Cake Island outfit for so long, and now it’s finally a reality—plus, she’s with her stinky baby! Huge thanks to @elphaedel for bringing this to life. Not only are you an amazing friend, but you’re also an incredibly talented artist. By the way, she’s currently open for commissions and specializes in self-ship art. I can’t recommend her enough! 💖

Now for a little lore dump~

Moxie and Sanji are separated for a while, but they reunite on Whole Cake Island. Sanji had been feeling grumpy and closed off because of everything he was going through, but the moment he saw me—his beloved Moxie-Moon—everything melted away. I ran straight into his arms, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he was happy again. The reunion was brief, with everything else going on (if you’ve watched One Piece, you’ll understand), but it was such a sweet and heartfelt moment—one neither of us would ever forget. 😔💞

Anyways that’s about all I have to say! Thank’s for reading!

[lowkaylove]

Room for Improvement

Pairings: MC x Xavier, MC x Rafayel, MC x Zayne, MC x Sylus, MC x Caleb

Not beta read

Every LI’s tag list will have the general content warnings plus specific tags that go with their scenario.

18+, MDNI (angsty/dangerous thoughts. Suggestive material, but no graphic smut)

Note: This story is very much cathartic for my own lived experiences in life. I do not want to imply or place the burden of my thoughts and feelings onto you (the reader) so this will not be in the 2nd POV or have uses of “you, Y/N, or reader.” Rather it will be 1st POV as the inner thoughts of MC. I do not mean to offend anybody or trigger any past trauma other people have experienced. I simply mean to put thoughts and feelings into writing as how I’d hope the LADS would be able to comfort me in times of feeling like I’m not enough.

CW: *LOTS OF UNHEALTHY HABITS* *ALLUSIONS TO EATING DISORDERS & GRAPHIC INNER THOUGHTS OF SELF-LOATHING* angst, hurt/comfort, hurting starts now, comfort will come later, MC is insecure/self-conscious, body image issues, MC feeling the need to change/better herself for LI, feelings of inadequacy, feelings of not being enough, feelings of being weak, Rafayel is baby, Thomas totally ships MC and Rafayel, MC is self-sabotaging, MC is straight up delulu in the image of herself, kissing, non-sexual intimacy, Zayne makes an appearance, Sylus is briefly mentioned

*PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF I MISSED ANYTHING IN THE WARNINGS*

1st Person POV

Prompt: I can’t believe I’m actually in a relationship with the man of my dreams. Congrats to me for bagging a fucking angel of a man! If only the little voice in my ahead would lift my confidence instead of agreeing with some comments made by those who are jealous of our relationship. But no problem, I’ll just have to turn into someone worthy of his time. Change is good, right?

Another note: please be kind, I’m really bad at writing. This took a lot and I wanna try to get better.

Rafayel

“Come on, cutie! We’re gonna be late and you’re the one who’s making me go to this exhibition in the first place! The sooner we get there, the sooner we can leave!” Rafayel’s whines echo throughout his house. I can just imagine his signature pout he makes when he’s forced contracted to attend his own art exhibitions.

“I’m almost done, Rafa!” I giggle at his typical apathy towards going to these events. Usually, I would be the one that’s ready to go before him. The Lemurian really shows me up with his own extensive routine to get ready to go out.

But this time is different. I’m not attending as his bodyguard. At least, that’s not the main reason.

Tonight is the first exhibition we will attend after officially becoming a couple. I need to look my best at Rafayel’s side.

There won’t be much fanfare about it (much to Rafayel’s dismay at not being allowed to hard launch his relationship), but it is the first time I will attend in an evening gown arm-in-arm with him rather than in my uniform and walking in his shadow.

The black, long-sleeve evening gown didn’t look too bad on me. The color added a slimming look, giving my frame a curvier look rather than my normal frump, and the fact that the ambiance called for dimmed lighting around the gala gave me courage to go with a backless design. It had a little stretch and give for me to move comfortably and a slit for me to quickly grab my gun in case there was an attack.

It should be good enough right? Besides, this night is for Rafayel. Most people who have seen me attend galas with him as his bodyguard rarely paid attention to me then. I doubt there will be much of a change from the normal looks I get.

As I finish spraying perfume and put on my earrings, I hear a low whistle to my left where the doorway leads to the bedroom. I smile in my reflection at Rafayel’s antics.

“Don’t even think about it, fishie.” I try to remain serious and focused on my task of putting on the last fucking earring, but I can’t help my mind slipping.

Rafayel gasps. “I haven’t even said anything. Cutie, what do you take me for? I am a distinguished Lemurian gentleman.”

I hear a few slow steps before I see Rafayel come up behind me in the mirror. His arms encase me as his lips meet my exposed neck tilted to the side as I am still trying to put on this fucking earring.

I finally get the damn thing secured before straightening my posture.

I revel in his touch. His arms are strong and secure around my waist as he brings me as close as he possibly can. I feel his hot breaths shudder against my skin as he inhales my scent. A low groan sends shivers throughout my body.

“I swear I will go to every exhibition for the rest of the year if you let me cancel on Thomas tonight.” His fingers dig into the fleshy part of my hips, hard enough to leave that lingering feeling throughout the rest of the night.

I scoff in absolute disbelief. “Rafa you’re a terrible liar. You and I both know you’re just going to plot even harder to get out of them if I say yes.”

His brings his left hand up to my upper arm before softly dragging the dress sleeve down to expose my shoulder. Kisses follow the exposed skin as he inhales more of my perfume. “I will make it worth your while my darling.”

I can’t help but lean into his touch, even as I protest. “Rafa, we can’t miss this tonight. Thomas will-”

His kisses cease to look at my reflection. “New rule: The word ‘Thomas’ is banned from leaving your gorgeous lips while I am kissing any part of you.”

I roll my eyes. “Such a dramatic merman.”

His eyes narrow. “Or mayyyyybe I just don’t want the most beautiful woman in my arms uttering the name of another man. My name should be the only one you say while I hold you.”

My face flushes with nerves and embarrassment at his praise. It’s still something I’m not used to. “We should get going. Like you said, the sooner we get there the sooner we can leave.”

Rafayel sighs in exasperation and rests his forehead on my shoulder. “You’re gonna drive me crazy all night. You better not leave my side into the arms of another man.”

“I don’t think anyone will snatch up an opportunity to take me from you.” I giggle in response. It’s a complete miracle that Rafayel has chosen me. Maybe since he’s not human, his tastes are different? Or maybe I’m a part of the taxi cab theory right now. Honestly anything is possible. But I’ll take what I can get and bask in this feeling while I have it.

Rafayel’s grip tightens even more on my hips, nearly to the point of bruising me. He looks back up into our reflection and stands tall. “I will damn sure scare off everybody into trying, but I know they’ll be thinking about stealing you from me. You are absolutely breathtaking, my dear.” He turns me to face him and looks at me with such reverence in his eyes. I seriously don’t understand what he sees, but I can only stay silent at his compliment and give him a little smile, lifting my hand to cup his cheek and give him a soft, chaste kiss.

Pulling away, I can’t help but give him a kiss on the check as well, hopefully reassuring him that his fears will never become reality. “Okay we really need to go before we’re late.” I walk past and grab his arm to drag him with me.

“One whole year of exhibitions and I won’t even complain about it!” This man is impossible. His affinity for the dramatics is always a breath of fresh air.

I laugh while walking out the door. “Not a chance, little fishie!”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Idle chatter fills the room as guests mingle around the pieces Rafayel submitted this month.

The dimmed lighting gives off a romantic, yet somber feel with some of the pieces on display. Brighter lighting around his paintings really allow all of the focus to be on each piece. Candles are lit throughout the area and the gallery windows have been left open to hear the crashing waves in the distance.

I nurse a glass of champagne as we walk around the gala. Rafayel explains his inspiration about every piece to me as critics and collectors creep near us, desperate to get his attention. Unfortunately for them, he spares none of them a glance as he continues to maintain his conversation with me, his right hand stuck to my exposed back. The pressure is gentle yet firm on my skin.

I’m actually a bit relieved that we have a little space to ourselves. Due to Rafayel’s dismay at not being allowed to use this event to announce our relationship, he rebelled and tried to enter the gala with the rest of the guests, thus thwarting Thomas’s plan to introduce him properly.

His plan backfires to nobody’s surprise because this literal God can’t be missed if he tried. His ethereal beauty and purple waves are not mistaken for anyone other than the very reason everyone was here tonight.

Expressions of awe and admiration were littered across almost everyone in attendance. Those whose gaze waver from Rafayel to me transformed to haughty indifference at best and downright disdain and envy at worst.

I felt naked all of a sudden. It’s like everyone could see all of my flaws and they were brimming with anticipation to point them out to everyone. Including my boyfriend.

Rafayel hasn’t even seen all of me yet. I’ve been putting off that next step in the relationship for weeks for fear he would look at me with the very same expression most of the women - and about half of the men - were giving me.

I refocus on Rafayel’s words as he continues with sharing everything he can about his paintings to me. I shouldn’t be thinking about those insecurities right now. Tonight’s attention is for Rafayel, not my flaws that will inevitably cause the downfall of his affection for me.

“This piece was actually inspired by the time we crashed the bicycle together. I remember the blush on your cheeks with dirt smudged all over and couldn’t get it out of my head.” He laughs at the memory.

I laugh in response as I look around us before my gaze locks to my right.

I notice Thomas walking towards us with frustration in his eyes and halt my movements. Rafayel doesn’t notice I’ve stopped until two steps later he bumps into my side and his hand on my back meets resistance. His eyes meet my face in confusion. “Cutie?”

“Incoming.” I warn as Thomas gets closer.

In my periphery, I see his gaze follow the direction of mine and his body tenses against me.

“Rafayel. You need to speak to the guests here. They came to see you. Show a little gratitude towards the buyers if you plan on selling any of these.” Thomas goes through his usual spiel in getting Rafayel to mingle with people he doesn’t care for.

“I’m here aren’t I? The old farts should be grateful I allow them to be this close to me.” Rafayel hisses the words through his teeth.

Afraid these two will cause a scene and attract the wrong attention towards Rafayel, I turn to face the Lemurian and placed a calming hand over his arm.

“Rafa, I actually need to go to the bathroom to freshen up. I’ll be a few minutes, so this will give you some time to talk with some buyers.” My eyes plead with him to just go with what Thomas is asking.

He looks betrayed almost, but sighs in resignation. “Only a few minutes okay? Then we can go home?” And cue the puppy dog eyes begging me to go along with his plan.

“Rafayel, that’s not enough time for the people -” Thomas begins, but is immediately cut off.

“Why don’t you go and gather a small handful of people who I’ve tolerated before, hmm? Anymore than that and I’ll set fire to all of my works.” Rafayel is tense as he grips my hand in a last attempt to not leave him.

Thomas gives up, sighs, and walks away.

“Rafa, my darling, I will be as quick as I can. I promise I’m not leaving you.” I rest my free hand over his heart where I know the bond mark is. A small tremor is felt as he places his hand over mine. After a few calming breaths, he takes my hand and moves it up to cup his cheek, turning his face to kiss the center of my palm.

“One minute and then we leave these idiots.” Oh dear, negotiations are impossible with this man.

I giggle at his never-ending dramatics. “Rafa I can’t promise that. It’ll probably be a little longer than that. I need to make sure everything is in its place. Can’t have your girlfriend embarrass you in front of all these esteemed guests now can we?”

He scoffs. “Puhhlease. More like groveling peasants who validate themselves by throwing their money in every direction and spitting on people who aren’t them. You are a goddess among mere mortals here. Don’t even spare them another thought.”

“Rafa be nice.” I raise my eyebrows at his harsh choice of words.

“I. Don’t. Care. About. Them.” His eyes are steeled with vitriol as his right hand applied more pressure to the small of my back, closing the distance between us a little.

My thumb softly rubs his cheek back and forth to calm him down. “Rafa, I’ll come right back to you. I always do, right?” His eyes soften at my words and he nods after a beat of silence.

I take one step back from him and he reluctantly lets me go. “5 minutes.” I whisper before turning to head to the bathroom.

Reaching the bathroom, I make my way into a stall to take a breath in private. I could feel myself sweating a bit under everyone’s stares.

Just before I gather myself and head out to check everything in the mirror, a fit of giggles enter the bathroom.

“Oh my god did you see her dress?! She has to be soooooo confident in herself to wear something like that.”

I pause, my gut stopping me from potentially embarrassing myself if these women are talking about me.

I decide to wait just a bit longer. Maybe it’s not me, even though I loathe the idea of anyone being talked about this way.

No such luck though.

“I know, the bravery to show off all of those rolls on her back and embarrass Rafayel.” My heart drops at the other girl’s words.

“He had to have hired her out of pity right? I mean, with her physique she doesn’t look like she has the reflexes to guard anything except a buffet table.” Their giggles turn shrill as tears form in my eyes. I can’t face them. I can’t let them see me cry.

“That’s probably where she just went. And now that we have an opening to catch him…” I hear silence in the bathroom except for some shifting of fabric. “How do I look? Are my boobs propped up all the way?”

I’m going to vomit.

“Oh totally girl. You’ll catch him for sure. And once you’ve got him, you can kick that whale’s ass on the street and away from your man.” Their giggles fade as they walk out of the bathroom.

I’m on autopilot as I check to make sure they’re gone before walking to the mirror.

I twist my body to find all of the rolls those girls noticed. I don’t know why I thought I had curves to show in this dress. That illusion faded as I realize I’ve made a grave mistake in wearing this dress and embarrassing Rafayel.

I need to get out of here.

I dry my tears and try to gather my wits just long enough to get through the next five minutes before I leave. I’ll just make up an excuse that I’m feeling sick and should go to my apartment so I don’t get Rafayel sick.

I open the bathroom door and walk around before finally spotting my boyfriend across the room.

And two women along with a small group of men, most likely the buyers.

They were gorgeous. One would think they were models with their dresses fitted to their figures like a second skin and not an ounce of fat to be seen. The one with obvious cleavage must be the woman trying to take him home tonight.

I’m not sure what to do. Her beauty obviously compliments his in ways I never could. I don’t have the guts to go up to him and look them in the eyes. But I don’t think my heart could handle leaving him without saying anything.

Big Tits places her hand on his arm and gives him a radiant smile, leaning in closer to no doubt shower Rafayel with praise and lure him in like a siren does a sailor.

Rafayel clearly looks down at her hand with confusion and something else, but doesn’t remove her hand. He just takes a step back and smiles politely.

I know that Rafayel is a gentleman and takes pride in holding himself in a higher regard than human men. But I can’t help but think that he deserves someone that compliments him. Maybe being out in public with me will only garner negative attention for him. Beautiful people should surround themselves with other beautiful people.

Disheartened, I turn and walk in the opposite direction to the bar and ask for some water. Just as the bartender places the glass in front of me, I hear someone say my name rather close behind me.

Thomas slides up right next to me and orders a water for himself. I manage a smile as best I can for him. “Thomas, I’m so sorry for causing a problem. If I had known he wouldn’t speak to anyone because of me, I would’ve done a better job of keeping my distance from him and the buyers.”

The bartender slides a glass in front of Thomas who takes it and turns to lean against the bar. He has an exasperated, yet slightly unbothered look on his face as he looks across the gallery. “Rafayel has always been this way, even before he met you. Trust me you were never the problem here.” Thomas gives me a sideways glance and smirks.

“I can’t say I’ve ever had a truly easy time since working for him. But ever since you’ve become a part of his life, his hunger for anything this world can offer him has reflected in his work in a way I never thought would happen. It’s just a matter of getting him to actually finish the paintings and sell them.” I can tell that, despite how exhausted I’m sure it is for Thomas to work for Rafayel, his respect for his boss is very apparent. Although I’m not so sure about what Thomas is implying.

I give him a nervous laugh to shoo away his words about my supposed influence on Rafayel. “Oh, I’m sure a genius like Rafayel gets so much inspiration and fulfillment from all things around him. You can’t possibly think that I-”

“You have no idea, do you?” Thomas’s words cut me off and his expression becomes sharp and discerning. His fingers tighten around his drink. Worried I offended him or Rafayel, I try to rectify my words.

“I don’t know what you mean, Thomas. I just-” And I’m cut off again.

“People from all over the world spend fortunes to travel in hopes of a miracle that Rafayel will give them a direct wave or smile in their direction. People throw themselves at him all the time, promising their everlasting devotion to a creative genius like him. There are some that have received a glare from Rafayel and took it as a sign to take a chance for more.

“You have never had to work a day in your life for Rafayel’s affections. He gives himself to you freely and without any doubts or reservations. I’d even go as far to say he gives you too much of himself and overwhelms you at times. You challenge him like nobody else can. You keep up with his dramatics without letting him take advantage of you. You’re clearly stunning and keep him on his toes. Obviously you’re his muse that inspired all of these paintings-” I can’t take anymore of this.

“I don’t think me doing the bare minimum and treating him with common courtesy and decency constitutes as being his muse. He deserves to be treated with kindness and compassion.” And all of that is true. Even if it weren’t by me, he deserves to be treated like a person and not some prize to win over. I’m just the lucky rookie hunter who’s here for him now. And if he finds someone better, I’ll be whatever else he needs me to be. That’s just how lovesick and pathetic I am.

Thomas gives me another discerning sideways glance. “I agree. He’s one of the best people I’ve ever known. His genius is unlike any other and, contrary to how exhausting it can be to work for him, I’ve never regretted choosing to be his manager.”

As we are speaking, I maintain my gaze on Rafayel from afar. Big Tits is till with him, smiling up at him and pushing out her cleavage in a very unassuming way. Kudos to her for that sly move. Rafayel barely seems to notice so it looks like her subtlety is working on him.

I look down at my figure briefly, plucking at my dress so the rolls and flabby areas are concealed under the little wrinkles. Since I haven’t eaten anything tonight, I can suck in my stomach without any bloating issues.

I stand up straight and feign confidence, hoping that the stretch in making myself taller has smoothed out any protruding areas.

“Do not pay them any mind.” Thomas speaks up again, jolting me out of my inner thoughts.

I lift a brow in confusion. Did he mean my rolls? Are they clearly still showing?

“Clarice has vied for Rafayel’s affections for months now.” Oh, he was talking about her. I remain still and calm, like water, so as to not give away my thoughts about her taking Rafayel away from me.

Thomas continues. “Her father is a regular buyer and sometimes sends her in his stead. His health has been declining so he can’t make the trips to exhibitions anymore. She is your typical heiress to an empire and has never been told ‘no’ in her life. That is, until Rafayel declined her efforts to romantically pursue him about 2 years go.” His eyes are fixed on Big Tits — Clarice — who is speaking animatedly with Rafayel and men I also do not recognize.

I stay silent after Thomas’s reassuring explanation for me. He probably saw me spiraling and is trying to console me to get myself together. Can’t have the woman that came with Rafayel make a spectacle of herself.

“Clarice…a beautiful name for a beautiful woman…” Water. I am a pool of water. Cool, calm, and collected.

Thomas lets out a scoff. “Don’t be fooled, dear. She paid for her good looks. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, per se. However, she likes to use her powers for evil. She’s more like a witch who disguises herself to lure victims to their demise.”

Clarice points to Rafayel’s empty champagne flute and heads to the bar near them, no doubt getting him another drink to schmooze him.

The handful of men stay behind and chat with Rafayel. I see them shuffle even closer to Rafayel as if to whisper a secret. They look like they’re offering something to him. Rafayel’s expression turns stunned, then dark. Offended.

“Oh dear gods, Rafayel, please don’t kill them.” Thomas sighs as if he’s had to deal with this before.

Rafayel places his hand on one of the men’s shoulder and leans in close to whisper something to those gathered around him. With his angelic smile plastered on his face, Rafayel’s lips move as if countering their offer. But the men’s faces turn ashen…and horrified.

And just as Big Tits - Clarice - comes back with a new glass of champagne to offer to Raf, he turns to look in all different directions before finding me across the way and leaning against the bar.

Completely ignoring Big Tits - Clarice - Rafayel’s eyes light up in relief as he makes his way over to me, leaving his victims behind without a care in the world.

I can only force a small smile and give him a pathetic wave as he closes the distance between us. My eyes briefly shift to see the witch (fuck her, I don’t care about her name anymore) turn her nose up at me with a look of disgust. The friend does the same before whispering in her ear and they giggle to each other.

“Cutie! Why didn’t you come get me sooner? It’s been over ten minutes, by the way! Jellyfish are walking around naked and I’m dying to get out of here. Ready to go home?” My attention is back on Rafayel as he reaches me and immediately takes my hand in his. His aura is lighter now that he’s reached me. The murderous look he used for those men has completely vanished.

“Rafayel, what did you say to them? Are the buyers interested in any works tonight?” Thomas interrupts Rafayel to bring the attention back to the group of men who still seem rattled but whatever he said to them. Rafayel, however, was too busy trying to get us out of there. I guess I don’t need to convince him to let me leave early.

“Rafayel, what the hell happened with those buyers?” Thomas catches up and grabs Rafayel’s elbow.

Rafayel stops in his tracks and turns to Thomas. “Those insufferable cockroaches are never allowed at any of my exhibitions again. You would do well to find better options worthy of owning my paintings.” Rafayel turns and is dragging me again towards the exit.

“Let’s go home, my darling. I need a nice soothing bath to cleanse myself of all this stuffiness.” His grip on my hand tightens. It feels as if he’s afraid I’ll let go, but he would be more likely to leave me behind…right?

I hesitate in my steps. “Are you sure? You don’t…want to stay and get to know anybody here? Don’t you still want to sell some of your works?”

“Eugh, no. We should’ve left five minutes ago. I’m ready to blow this popsicle stand.” Rafayel tugs me along through the building. The crowd makes way for him to walk through.

“But…if those men aren’t going to buy anything, shouldn’t you stay to schmooze some of the other guests?” I realize how pathetic I am in trying to give him an opportunity to stay. Jeez I’m acting like a wingman to my own boyfriend.

“I changed my mind. None of the paintings are for sale tonight.” Rafayel’s hand tightens around mine even more as we leave the building, Thomas’s protests continue in the background, but Rafayel doesn’t seem to have a care in the world.

“But why? I thought-” I don’t get a chance to finish though.

“Those idiots thought they could insult me. They thought they could insult y-” Rafayel stops his words short, but the anger that remained served as a warning that I shouldn’t press him to finish his sentence. When we make it to the car, he stops before my door and turns to me.

The anger from earlier has dissipated from the air around us. “Don’t worry about it, cutie. They don’t matter. Let’s go home, yeah? I need a bath.” His hands come up to cup my face and brings me closer to kiss my temple.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Rafa? Is there anything I can do to help?”

A glint of mischief reaches his eyes. “Welllll you could always join me in the bath?”

Panic grips my heart. No. I’m not ready for him to see me yet… “Oh, actually I-“

Rafayel stops me. “Okay I know what you’re thinking. I know I take a lot of really loooooong baths and you’re probably tired. But just hear me out: I can open the windows that lead to the ocean and we can just relax. I can light some candles and put something on the vinyl player. Very romantic if I say so myself. What do ya say?” He’s worried about me being too tired to bathe with him? His pleasing eyes are fucking killing me. I don’t know how I can say “no” to him.

Oh wait, yes I do. Because the minute he sees me completely uncovered is the minute I’ll lose him. That woman was right about me. Beautiful people deserve beautiful things.

I am water…cool, calm, and collected. I just have to get out of this.

“Actually, Rafa, I think I’m coming down with something. The open windows probably brought something in the air. I don’t want to get you sick…maybe I should go home for a couple days and make sure it’s nothing contagious.”

pleasebelievemepleasebelievemepleasebelieveme

His eyes fall in disappointment before worry replaces it. One hand leaves my cheek to feel my forehead. “You do feel a little flushed. Are you sure you want to go home? I can cook and take care of you if you wanna stay with me.”

I give him a small smile. Thank god he fell for it. “I’m sure Rafa. I would feel so guilty if I got you sick. Hopefully it won’t be too long. I’ll keep you updated okay?”

He’s clearly sad but nods in understanding. “Okay my darling. Let me take you home.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

A Week Later

Ma Petit Fishie: Are you feeling any better? Want me to bring some soup to you?

Me: I just placed an order for some soup. It’s not too bad today. I’ll let you know as soon as I’m over this cold.

I feel awful for lying to Rafayel. But this is for the best. I’m sure once my plan works and shows results fast enough, he’ll be so happy with how I look and that we can move forward in our relationship and be seen in public together without any doubts of me belonging with Rafayel.

I put my phone away as I continue my workout. Luckily this gym is reserved for employees at the Hunter’s Association only so there’s no chance of running into him.

I’ve been coming to the gym around nighttime since there’s typically not a whole of people here around this time. The less people to interact with the better.

I was hoping for something a little more fast-acting, but I can’t afford cosmetic surgery and Zayne wouldn’t prescribe me anything to help with weight loss.

I was able to get an appointment with him the day after the exhibition, but I couldn’t get what I was looking for.

Zayne just looked at me with calculating eyes before jotting down some notes. “Why are you asking me for this? Your weight is within the range of healthy for your protocore syndrome.”

That’s gotta be the biggest lie. Barely hanging on the larger side of a 60 pound range is laughable.

“No major reason, I just wanted to see if there was something that could shave off fat so that I could build muscle easier.” Jeez I hate that the lies are falling off of my tongue so easily. As long as I can look at his face, but not his eyes, this could be successful.

“There is nothing on the market that would pair safely with your heart condition.” Zayne leans back in his chair and narrows is eyes. “Are you sure there is no other reason?”

I shake my head with an innocent look. “No other reason. I just wanted to get stronger for large-scale missions.”

“I can refer you to a dietician that can create a meal plan, but I do not feel comfortable prescribing fast-acting drugs that have more negative side effects than the positive results you’re looking for.” Zayne types something on his computer before printing a sheet. “You can take this to suite 200 of the office building and she’ll help you.”

I take the sheet with a grateful smile and absolutely no intention of using this referral. Back to the original plan. I need to hurry before Rafayel gets bored of me for taking too long to move forward or disgusted with how I look now.

“Thank you, Dr. Zayne!” I rushed out of his office before heading to my apartment to finalize my original plan.

That was a week ago and I think I’ve got a solid plan.

I’ll play sick for a couple more days. Luckily Thomas has Rafayel extremely busy since he didn’t sell any of the pieces from last week.

I also volunteered for more rigorous missions to put my body to the test.

I also found a lot of tips and tricks. Water is my new best friend.

I jump off the treadmill to refill my water bottle and head to the weight station.

I continue pushing myself until the lightness I feel starts to make me a little wobbly. Then I refill my water again and head home.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Cutie! I missed you so much you have no idea! Please tell Thomas to go away! He’s been so cruel to me and I want some time alone with you!” Ever the drama queen, Rafayel gives me the biggest puppy-dog eyes to plead his case.

It’s only been a week or so. I extended my absence from him as much as possible and played it off as lingering symptoms that could still be contagious. Gods I missed him. But I’ve been trying my best to get the plan moving.

Looking at him now, I pray my efforts work so I can keep him.

For now, I’ll enjoy hanging out with him today.

“I’ll see what I can do, Rafa.” I give him a quick peck on the cheek.

His arms wrap around me and pull me close, his face nuzzling my neck. “Thank you. You have no idea how much I missed you. I can’t tell you how many times I-”

His arms tighten and loosen around me before his hands rub up and down my back. His hands linger on my hips and waist as they roam my figure.

It becomes too much as I realize he might be able to feel my shape through my clothes. I quickly step back, panic beginning to settle in. “Rafayel, what-?”

“Have you lost weight? Did you eat anything while you were sick?” His stance is intimidating as is eyes roam up and down my body. While the hoodies and sweatpants should make it difficult, it definitely feels like Rafayel can see through the baggy clothes and pick out the flawed areas of my body.

“Oh um…I highly doubt I’ve lost weight. It was just hard to keep certain foods down so my appetite was lost for a bit.” Lie.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve brought you some easy foods to help you.” At the mention of eating, I picked at my jacket to peel it away from clinging to my frame.

“It was nothing, my darling. I’m feeling better now and I actually feel good. I’m surprisingly very energized today.” Lie, but I give him my best smile to reassure him.

He doesn’t seem convinced until he smiles as well. Phew. “Well, as long as you’re feeling better. Are you hungry now? I was actually wanting to try this new Italian place. Wanna go there for lunch?”

Italian. Carbs. Absolutely not. “Oh Rafa, I’m so sorry. I already ate lunch today. I had some leftover soup that I needed to finish.” Lie.

His face falls. Fuck I hate disappointing him right now. But it’ll all be worth it in the end.

“Oh…yeah you should probably stick with easier meals since you were recently sick. How about dinner with me tonight? We can order in so it’s just the two of us” Dammit, I can’t say no to those eyes. And I can’t decline food twice or else he’ll catch on.

“I suppose we could have dinner…as long as it’s light and small.”

And he lights up again. I don’t know who cursed Rafayel to date me, but I’ll be forever grateful for these moments.

“Perfect! I know just the spot to order from! And while you’re here we can have a day in all to ourselves. Whatever you wanna do, cutie.” He winks at me playfully.

I giggle at him before playfully smacking his chest. “Okay little fishie, lemme see what I can do about Thomas.”

“My hero.” He brings one hand to his heart and the other to his forehead as if a damsel is about to faint.

God I love my little fishie.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

After I successfully convince Thomas to leave the house, I walk back to the living room where Rafayel is sitting on the couch scrolling on his phone.

“Mission accomplished. Thomas has agreed to give you a break for the next couple of days.”

“You, my darling, are a blessing. I don’t know how I was able to survive without you for so many years.” His words are teasing, but his eyes hold something deeper. I can’t exactly pinpoint what, but something about it nags at my brain.

Letting go of that thought before it gives me a headache, I sit down next to Rafayel, making sure to keep a little space between us. Rafayel throws that plan out the window and pulls me close to him.

My body tenses slightly as I feel him wrap his arm around me. “Okay cutie, what did you want to do today? We could watch a movie, go for a swim in the pool, or even go to the beach!”

Fuck, I knew he wanted to go to the beach. Of course he does. It’s his home where he’s the most comfortable.

“I wouldn’t…mind any of those options. I just don’t think I should do anything too strenuous like swimming right now. But I’m more than happy to sit on the beach and relax while you swim. I also don’t have a bathing suit with me today.”

His shoulders droop a little in disappointment, but shakes it off and shrugs in nonchalance. “It’s okay cutie. We can always go another time. How about we take it easy before dinner?” Rafayel’s hand is too close to my stomach.

I try to keep myself in check. “That sounds good, Rafa. Did you just want to lounge around and watch some movies?”

His hand gently caresses my waist over the hoodie. “Yeah we can do that. Let me just clean up the paints around here and-” He moves to stand up from the sofa but stops and turns to me. A devious smile matches the light in his eyes. Oh no…I’ve seen that look on his face and right now he has something crazy in mind.

“Orrrrrrr what if you let me paint you? You are my muse after all, cutie. I’m sure I could have a masterpiece done around dinner time.” His eyes are eager and hopeful. I would even go as far to say he looks crazed at the opportunity.

Yep, definitely crazy. No way is that ever happening.

I immediately curl in on myself a bit. “Rafa I’m not…I don’t think I have the capacity to sit still that long. Also…wouldn’t a professional model be more suited for an artist of your caliber?”

Rafayel looks at me with confusion and determination. His hands clasp over mine. “Nonsense! You would be a perfect model. There’s nobody else I would want to immortalize on a canvas.” He gives me a reassuring smile while running his thumb back and forth over my hands.

“Immortalize?” I can’t fathom a world where Rafayel paints how I look now and being proud of it. He would most likely be unhappy with the outcome and wonder what he did wrong before realizing that it’s not a matter of skill issue, but it’s just the way I look.

“Well yeah. It would be just for us. I would never allow anyone to own something as precious as a painting of you.”

“Rafa, I don’t think-”

“I mean, I already have countless drawings of you in multiple sketchbooks, but I’ve always wanted to paint you.” My blood turns cold. He has drawings of me? More than one? But why?

“You have drawings?” I feign light curiosity. “Can I see them?” I need to know what he sees. I know it’ll hurt, but maybe these sketches will show me the areas he notices that I will make sure to fix.

Rafayel in his excitement doesn’t notice my inner panic. He practically skips over to where he keeps his workbooks and paintbrushes. He grabs a handful of sketchbooks and brings them over flipping through one of them until he finds what he’s looking for.

“Here. There’s a couple more after that, too! See? You’re the perfect model for me, my darling. And these were all done by memory! Imagine the masterpieces I could create with you right here in front of me to capture everything.” Rafayel hands me the book and it is not what I was expecting.

The first one is a portrait of the face. The girl is beautiful when she smiles. I can clearly tell he poured himself into the finer details.

The problem was that this wasn’t me. It’s supposed to be me, but this isn’t what I look like. I can clearly tell what he meant when he said they were done by memory due to the obvious differences. This must be what Rafayel wants me to be. This is what he envisions compared to the real thing.

I flip the page and it’s a full body image. The girl walking along the shore and reaching for something beyond the page. She is also beautiful, but she isn’t who I am right now.

My heart breaks knowing that I am nowhere near this version of me.

But I can work with this. I can become this. At least I can visualize the goal now.

I run my fingers down the page. “She’s beautiful.”

I feel a finger lift my chin to look into the most beautiful eyes. “You are.” Rafayel whispers.

I let out a nervous giggle. “Stop, Rafa. I’m not-”

“Don’t. Do not finish that sentence.” His pinkish-blue eyes harden with his warning and I can see a flicker of the stormy blue they become when the Sea God makes an appearance. Just a flash, then they’re back to their normal shade.

I don’t want to argue, so I can only silently nod. “May I keep these two sketches? Please?”

“Of course…you can have anything you wish.”

All I want is him…

“You could command anything of me. A thousand sketches? Done. A million paintings dedicated to you? Say the word. You already have my heart.” Before I have anytime to register his words, Rafayel leans in to kiss me and I can’t help but lean into it. Who knows when it’ll be the last time. I need to make the most of these moments.

His finger remains under my chin, holding me in place. The slightest pressure from his other hand on my back is all he needs to apply as I lose myself in the feel of his lips on mine.

We stay like that for a few minutes before I reluctantly pull away. The guilt eats at me. I know I should give him more. Rafayel deserves the best kind of love in this world and all the intimate expressions it comes with.

But the best kind of love is not something I can give him right now. Because that love is free of disgust and shame and embarrassment.

His breath is shaky and his lips tremble against mine. “I could kiss you for an eternity and not notice the time pass.” The hand on my back twitches in excitement, but does not apply more pressure. Ever the gentleman, Rafayel doesn’t push past the invisible line I have drawn between us.

I don’t think I will ever understand how this beautiful Lemurian can shower me with such devotion. To even be allowed a smile is a blessing in itself.

Overwhelmed by the desire laced in his voice, I giggle and attempt to divert the attention from me. “I feel like you would eventually get tired of it after…oh I would say 24 hours, little fishie. You’d at least need to rest and replenish your oxygen levels.”

His body stills and he leans back to fully look at me. His entire demeanor changes and I wonder what I said to make him look so…insulted? No that’s not it. Challenged is more like it.

His pupils dilate, the pink and blue melting into a stormy violet. “Did you forget that I am a Lemurian, my darling? We have no need for something as trivial as stopping for air. At least…not for a long, long time.”

“Oh…” Oh? That’s all i can come up with? Why am I so lame?

“In fact, if I were to take you out to the sea right now, one kiss would let you breathe underwater like me. Then…you would have no need for oxygen as well. There would be no limit as to what we could do for hours and hours.” Rafayel’s gaze trails from my eyes to my lips and even further down before landing back on my eyes. I self-consciously move to cover myself more and shield my body from his scrutiny.

Conflict pulls at me from both ends. On one hand, my body is responding to his words. I feel my thighs clench together as desire sets my nerves on fire. On the other hand, I know I’m nowhere near the standard of feeling worthy enough to take that next step with Rafayel.

My focus clouds, thinking of all the possible ways things could go wrong if I give in now based on the hope that he would still want me.

Even in the worst-case scenario, I know Rafayel would be a gentleman. He would gracefully help me get redressed, reassuring that someone is out there for me, but I’m just not the girl for him. He would then either call me a taxi or leave his own house to give me time to collect myself and leave on my own terms. I would most likely be fired as his bodyguard to save him from the awkwardness.

Maybe after some time we could still be friends and my personality would be enough for him to want to be near me.

But if I could just buy myself some time, maybe I can turn myself into those drawings he made.

“…tie? Cutie?”

I snap out of my reverie to find Rafayel extremely close to my face. The storm in his eyes has faded to the normal pink and blue again. But they’re filled with worry this time.

“Oh, Rafa. I uh…I’m sorry I’m just…not used to um…I mean I haven’t-” Gods I can’t seem to pull myself together. I wring my hands together in anxiety.

Why does this have to happen now? Why can’t I stop thinking about the worst that could happen? Rafayel doesn’t deserve to be thought of in this light. He has done nothing to warrant the doubts I have placed on us. He deserves someone who can trust his intentions. He deserves someone who will enjoy this relationship. He deserves someone who can be present in the fucking relationship and this moment with him.

He deserves better than me.

Fuck it’s starting all over again.

My breaths quicken as a torrent of emotions swirl in my head. I need to find a way to fix myself faster. Maybe I can ask Sylus for a favor. He might know somebody who can get me something on the market in the N109 zone.

Or maybe I can just get off my lazy ass and work harder. Maybe if I can keep up with the plan for the next few months, Rafayel will notice some results. I just need to keep him occupied and entertained so he doesn’t get bored with me in the meantime.

In the few minutes I have these thoughts, I barely notice Rafayel trying to get my attention.

A wave of his hand in front of me and his evol quickly produces a flame that shakes me out of the trance I was in.

I gasp sharply at the sudden burst of light the flame emits. My senses focus on my surroundings and I feel a grip on my shoulder.

With a flick of his wrist, the flame extinguishes and I can now hear Rafayel over my breathing.

“Cutie, just breathe, okay? Hey, look at me. Look at me.” His hands hold my face, his grip reassuring yet firm. He guides my face so that I’m looking directly at him.

“There you are. You’re okay. Just breathe, baby. No need to get yourself worked up. I was only teasing, okay? I would never pressure you into anything you weren’t ready for.” His gaze remains on me. One hand leaves my face to take my hand and place it over his heart. “Focus on me, yeah?” He slowly takes a deep inhale, then exhales. I steady my breathing to match my heart rate to his.

Once I’ve calmed down, I rest my head on his chest and close my eyes, too embarrassed to maintain his gaze. “I’m…sorry, Rafa. I don’t know…what came…over me.”

Rafayel keeps my hand over his heart while the other trails from my cheek to the back of my head. He runs his fingers through my hair, the sensation keeping me calm.

“Don’t apologize, cutie. You have nothing to be sorry for. I didn’t mean to make you anxious. It was all harmless teasing I swear.” Rafayel makes no indication for us to move, his hold on me is unwavering in its mission to keep me grounded.

After a few minutes though, the adrenaline from the panic attack wears off, and I become aware of the fact that my body is still trembling, as well as covered in a sheen of sweat.

Then I feel Rafayel’s hand running up and down my back in soothing circles. His head lays on top of mine as he hums a tune, slightly swaying us in a rocking motion. I wonder if it’s a Lemurian song.

I can’t help but want to fall asleep in his arms, lost in the daydream where Rafayel doesn’t mind settling for who I am now.

And the shield surrounding that dream once my skin prickles and instantly becomes hyper aware of the fact that Rafayel’s hands have been roaming over my lumpy form.

If I play it cool, we can both pretend he’s touching the wrinkles in the hoodie. I just need to leave his embrace, however difficult that task is right now. I never want to leave the safety of his arms.

I twitch my hands a little and wiggle my body a bit to hopefully indicate to him I need to move. However, his hold tightens even more around me.

“Rafa, I need to-”

“Don’t. Just-just stay here for a while longer. Please.” He whispers into my hair so softly. His lips kiss the crown of my head as he continues to hum.

I can only pray he doesn’t notice what he’s actually touching. I pray he has mercy on me if he does.

“Okay…just a bit longer.” I whisper, too afraid my voice will break if I speak any louder.

We stay like that for a couple minutes (even if my anxiety made it feel longer). Rafayel stops humming and gives me another kiss to my head. His hand lets go of mine to join the other one to hold my waist. His fingers add pressure to the tense areas of my hips and lower back.

“So soft…” Rafayel whispers in awe.

I giggle. “You can borrow it anytime if you want. But this is my favorite hoodie so please don’t lose it.”

He pulls back to look at me in total confusion. “What are you talking about?”

It’s my turn to be confused now. “Uh, the same thing you’re talking about…my hoodie? You said it was soft.” I giggle nervously. “Does my poor fishie have the memory of a goldfish? It was only a few seconds ago.”

Rafayel shakes his head in disbelief. “Silly girl, I was talking about you. You’re so soft and warm. I would squish and snuggle up to you 24/7 if I could.” He resumes his previous position and grabs my hips in demonstration. He lays his head over mine again and continues to squeeze bits of me up along my torso making his way to just below my breasts.

It feels like cold water is thrown over me. My body tenses in response to his ministrations.

Squish me? Why would he say that?

Maybe this is his subtle way of letting me know he’s always known how I actually look. And the areas he’s paying attention to with his hands are the areas he wants me to fix.

If him touching me everywhere is any indication, then I have a lot of work to do.

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Note: Whoa boy that was a lot. I hope y’all don’t mind the angst and inner turmoil in this story. I have different scenarios for each LI that I will be writing.

Let me know what y’all think!

[cookiesandcantarella-art]

Ballet Print Series: Giselle

Yippee you can see the process on my YouTube channel. I have like 10 subs atm so any views or comments helps. I wanna be an art youtuber baby!

Prints are $25 USD plus $5 shipping, though I'm only shipping within the US for the moment. Check out my shop here!

[ID: digital painting of the titular Giselle from the ballet as a Wili. She is a black ballerina dancing against a dark, moonlit sky. Her white dress almost glows with multicolor highlights. End ID]

[ryuichirou]

Why is Ortho included in ship art? He died as a child, and although he was rebuilt, his emotional intelligence and maturity level stayed the same as that of a child. Although I fully disagree, I do want to understand your reasoning. Especially since Ortho and Idia are related and I saw your art of them kissing. I am genuinely confused.

I’ll be honest, Anon: the amount of people who message us pretending to be genuinely confused while having ill intentions are more than I care to admit, and this is very tiring; this is why I might sound a little dry in my reply. But I don’t mind explaining it if you genuinely want to understand it. That being said, let this be the last time I am ranting about this topic because there is nothing new I can say.

Here is the short answer: Ortho is included in ship art because we ship him with other characters. Ortho having a maturity level, mentality and/or intelligence of a child is a myth that contradicts canon and only exists to antagonise people who view Ortho as anything other than Idia’s baby mascot with zero agency. The fact that Idia and Ortho are related is not a reason not to ship them: shipping is fictional and doesn’t reflect one’s views on irl matters. Exploring taboo and problematic dynamics and tropes in fiction is a part of natural human experience. What I care most about in shipping is characters’ dynamic that I find fun for shipping. Their relation to each other comes second, but I won’t pretend it doesn’t exist if it does exist.

Now I’ll give you a long answer. Starting with “Ortho is a child/8-year-old/5-year-old/toddler” argument.

We actually saw real 8 yo Ortho before his death in Idia’s flashback and, wow, we can see that AI!Ortho and flashback!Ortho aren’t the same Ortho. "My largest amount of birthday data comes from eleven years ago, when I was five” is the line that Ortho says in one of his Birthday vignettes, which indicates that even though he does have memories of dead!Ortho, he is not stuck in the age of 8 – he thinks and feels that his fifth birthday happened eleven years ago.

But also just in general, if you listen to him talk and compare it to how he talked in Idia’s flashback (both the voice and the manner of speech), it becomes pretty clear that he is older. He is younger-looking and has a high-pitched voice but it’s due to the fact that Idia designed him to look that way, and there are a lot of potential reasons why he could’ve done it (all non-canon and theoretical, so we won’t dive into them today), but he is definitely not 8 years old. Ortho’s AI constantly learns new information, learns more about being a human – he is clearly maturing as the story goes, thus showing that he is in fact capable of aging mentally, and he’s been doing it from the moment Idia first created him. He is naive and inexperienced, but that doesn’t make him an infant.

Plus, post ch.6 he is always being grouped with other freshmen who are also sixteen years old. This is his age group. This is how old Ortho would’ve been if he was still alive, and this is how old AI!Ortho feels. He’s a proper first year student just like Ace, Deuce and the rest of the boys, and the story keeps highlighting it in all the events that happened post ch.6.

Speaking of post ch.6. At the end of the story AI!Ortho and real/blot!Ortho actually merged a little, as far as you can remember. Blot!Ortho, wow, is also 16. He’s been stuck in the Underworld since he was 8 and he existed all those years and grew up as well despite his terrible situation and more than unusual company, so we can safely assume his age. His merging with AI!Ortho also influenced him (AI!Ortho) in a way, making him more human as a result as well.

Not to sound mean, but I think the majority of people who still insist that Ortho is mentally 8 either don’t pay attention to his character, his story and how he interacts with others at all, or straight-up choose to believe that lie because it makes it easier to attack shippers or anyone who likes Ortho in general.

But also guess what, none of that matters actually because ultimately he is a fictional boy, and fictional characters’ ages are irrelevant. Just like fictional characters’ family relations are irrelevant. Even if you don’t think it’s right, that doesn’t change the fact that it is irrelevant, and the only thing that could be done about it is that you can block people and/or tags that make you upset. There is no shame about it: I avoid a lot of ships and tropes that make me upset.

I would prefer people to stop accusing me, a real person, of actual vile crimes (or having dark thoughts about them? What the fuck is wrong with you?) because of fictional, made-up things. If I want to, I can unrelate Ortho and Idia, and my fanart would stop being incestuous with a snap of my fingers. I can make them enemies, I can make them kill each other over and over again, I can kill Idia instead of Ortho. I say this to show how little it matters, and no, ~the implications~ don’t count. People make them up and choose to believe that instead of listening to the person in question. About a real person, let me repeat myself. You (plural/neutral you, not you, Anon) cannot make shit up about another person’s thoughts, ideas, and views just because you find it convenient.

As for why I personally ship Ortho with Idia despite them being siblings, you’re in luck because in addition to this already long post I have an even longer post for you to read if you’re interested! It’s been more than a year since I’ve written that post my reasoning is still pretty much the same, so I think it’s a pretty good one to read if you genuinely want to understand us better.

But if you don’t want to read another long post but are still interested, here is a TL;DR:

I love their deep love for each other and don’t want to just explore the platonic aspect of it – there are a lot of other scenarios that I want to play with;

there are a lot of tropes related to this ship that we love (us two against the world; AI in love; causing an apocalypse for the sake of your loved one; unhealthy and codependent relationship; obsession, etc);

their story has a lot of motifs that could be read as romantic (i.e. Orpheus and Eurydice analogy) that we really enjoy;

personal reasons; relatability (not elaborating on that; not related to incest though lol);

they’re sexy lol I love robot parts, size difference and a lot of other aspects that I won’t mention here.

I hope that explained some stuff. Just to be clear: I don’t want to force anyone ship Shroudcest, in fact I don’t care if we are the only people in the world shipping them (that will never be the case though lol). I just love Ortho very much, and I think he is a very fun character that has a lot to offer, and I really don’t like that people want to create this aura of “he’s just baby don’t touch him” that stops people for getting to know his character better. He is cunning, he is smart, he is caring, he is psychopathic, he is a lot of things, and all of those things make me want to see him bossing Idia around, acting cute around Vil, bonding with Malleus over their differences and similarities, all of those things.