#I really like the navy colored line art for this | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

averagewriter-inthedark · 1 year

Text

Got Ink? 💉 | Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd Imagine

Takes place before, during, and after the events of TGM

TGM masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Lt. Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x tattooed model!reader (romantic), dagger squad (platonic)

Content Warnings: fluff, profanity, mentions of pain as a result of tattoos. Slight suggestive content if you blink | Female!reader (she/her) | wc: 6k

Requested 📨 yes/no (rules for requests)

Premise: Art comes in many different forms. And when you technically think about it, your body is a canvas that can be become a mural if you find yourself drawn to the beauty that tattoos bring. For WSO Bob Floyd, he appreciated art in every form and loved how patterns and colors could create something beautiful. When his sister invites him to a party for her job shortly after returning from a special mission with the Navy, Bob meets a woman who was the perfect canvas he’d ever seen.

Note: I cannot tell you how much I loved doing this request. As soon as I got it I was like, ‘I’m gonna love this,’ especially as someone who has tattoos and wants to have a lot (I have at least twenty planned) this was feeding my love for tattoos. To the anon who sent this request I hope you like it, I really enjoyed writing this for you and I hope you’re okay with me choosing Bob since you said you wouldn’t mind if it was him or Jake—since I just did a Jake imagine I wanted to give Bob some love 🥹 Also I made it where reader was born in 1989 so if we were to go by Bob being born in 1993 like Lewis then she’d be about four years older since the events of TGM take place in 2019.

——��———————

They often say that when you get your first tattoo it will either be the one and only time you subject yourself to the temporary pain of permanent ink…or it becomes one of many.

“It’s an addiction”, people defend, though they should probably look up the term addiction before using it in such context.

For many it’s the appreciation of art. Whether expressing it by becoming a tattoo artist or wanting to capture the beauty by etching it onto their skin like they are its own personal canvas.

Tattoos come in many different forms. There’s the traditional/old school style that is very recognizable with its bold black lines outlining bright colors. People in their old age, having grown up in the 60s and 70s, are the ones usually seen with these types of tattoos. Neo-traditional is not that far off from traditional, just the lines are not as bold. Delicateness is seen with fine line tattoos. In recent years it’s become popular amongst the younger generation—not just because they are pretty to look at but if one has a job that’s strict on policy then they can hide them better.

The oldest style would be the tribal tattoos. Beautiful elaborate patterns in various sizes, they represent the culture one comes from. Like fine line, watercolor tattoos have become a popular style—taking away the traditional black ink used as an outline so the colors have the spotlight. No color in a piece is blackwork and then there’s realism where it’s pretty much a picture that was printed onto the skin. Go on Pinterest and you’ll find multiple images of patchwork style where a collection of pieces put together can be any style already mentioned.

Japanese style, patch, geometric, black & gray, anime, portrait, the list goes on and on. So many ways to put a design on one’s body where it will remain until they go to the next life. Some people stick to pieces that represent sentimental value, like family or childhood nostalgia, others will simply see something they like and go, “I think it looks cool.”

When looking at Y/n’s tattoos, both aspects were seen in the array of artwork coating her body. After getting all the pieces that represented a person, place, or thing that impacted her life, Y/n started to get whatever the hell she wanted—not having an explanation for anything other than, “it looked badass so I got it. No value behind it, I just wanted it.”

Like many newly turned teenagers itching to get their first tattoo, Y/n was bold and got an intricate design on one of the most painful spots. Her reasoning was if she did it, then any other place in the future wouldn’t be as bad. All through college whenever asked what she wanted for her birthday or holidays the answer was always money to get a tattoo. An artist herself, she majored in drawing while attending Pratt Institute in Brooklyn, New York, also taking on an apprenticeship for a local tattoo artist. There she would get to work on her skills and tattoo people, progressing to doing tattoos on her legs and non-dominant arm. Anytime she traveled to a different state or country during the semester she studied abroad, Y/n got a new tattoo, wanting to have an array of styles from different artists on her body.

By the time she was 26, she had accumulated over 50 tattoos and still had room for more. From her neck down, artwork ranging from fine line to bold and traditional decorated her skin. Both her arms were half sleeves, ending just above her elbows with patchwork along her forearms and hands. The only place free of ink on Y/n was her face, though she did have her inner lip tattooed. If you asked her, it’d be the only place she regretted getting ink because it faded so quickly. But then again, she could get it redone if she really wanted to.

There were looks from people anytime she went out. Y/n loved dressing up in little black dresses and two piece sets to unapologetically show off her tattoos. Older, conservative couples or people who thought tattoos looked trashy on women would look down upon her. Getting hit on was normal, though she never gave the time of day and sending one look that read, ‘get lost’ had men scurry. Sometimes she'd be approached by teenagers asking about certain pieces, saying they wanted to get tattoos once they were of age and were looking for advice. Biker bars were a place she felt comfortable in, Y/n even taking a part-time job as a bartender so make some extra cash. People from all ages—well at least 21–were covered in tattoos like her.

In 2014, shortly after her 25th birthday, Y/n noticed an inbox notification in her instagram. She was used to getting messages on occasion. Being featured on the bar’s and tattoo parlors business instagram pages and accumulating her own following of potential clients had Y/n reach up to 80 thousand followers. The tattoo artist she worked for was very popular, having done work for celebrities and being featured in Inked Magazine.

Speaking of Inked Magazine…..

When Y/n clicked on the icon to open the message, the first thing she spotted was the blue checkmark. Then beside it was in bold lettering inkedmag. Coffee nearly spilled onto the floor when her grip faltered, gasping lightly at the name. She didn’t even realize the page was following her, confirming this by searching herself under their following and found her username staring back at her.

Heart pumping, Y/n opened the message. “Hi, Y/n, my name is Manda Williams and I’m a representative at Inked Magazine. We’re a fan of your profile and would love to work with you on our upcoming campaign. Would you be interested? Please email me at [email protected], I look forward to talking with you soon.”

Never did she think she’d become a model, let alone a tattoo model. She was taller than the average woman, standing at about 5’10 and strikingly beautiful. On countless occasions family members would say, “if you didn't have all that on you maybe you’d been discovered. You’ve got the height, the style, and high fashion look. Plus you’ll never get a well paying job with all those tattoos.” All they were met with was a roll of the eyes from the woman, annoyed with the constant nagging.

“I’m an artist,” she would defend. “I got accepted into one of the most prestigious art schools in the country and I work for a very renowned tattoo artist who has had Snoop Dogg, Angelina Jolie, and Lady Gaga as clients. Not to mention I work at a biker bar where the people there love me. Want me to go further?” the look on their face would read they didn’t but Y/n would put the nail in the coffin with, “Let me point out the fact I get paid more with both those jobs combined than you working a nine to five in your little office job. Also you should educate yourself. Tattoo models do exist.”

If only those family members could see her now. Posing on a motorcycle in nothing but a bra and booty shorts as the camera flashed in front of her.

“You’re a natural, Y/n,” the photographer complimented, making her flustered.

She adjusted her position, running a hand through her hair, “If you think so I trust your judgment.” Being in a studio felt very different than when she would set up her phone on a tripod in her apartment. It took many tries for her to capture the perfect angle, often deleting fifteen out of sixteen photos. Here with this guy calling out movements, “a little to the left,” “bring your hand up—just under your chin, perfect,” “Now act like you’re suntanning on the beach—tilt your head back as though the sun is in your face,” Y/n felt what it was like to be a model.

Not many tattooed individuals got the chance to sign with top agencies like Ford and IMG. Very few were recruited so it came as a big surprise when an agent from IMG Models contacted her following the release of Inked Magazine’s issue. When she took the job she thought it would be a small section in the magazine itself. Instead, she was on the cover.

“You don’t have an agent?” Bonnie’s tone was confused, staring back at Y/n from behind her desk as they sat in her office at the IMG headquarters. Bonnie had seen her cover on Inked, immediately going to Y/n’s instagram where she contacted her though the email listed on the tattoo parlors page. From there she asked the artist to bring a portfolio, which she was shocked to find out wasn’t much. “That was your first model job?”

Y/n shrugged, making a face like it was obvious, “Unless you count the dozens of comments I get on instagram beggin for my next post, yeah it was. I’m a bartender and tattoo artist, modeling wasn’t something I thought was in the cards.” She refrained from adding, “also didn’t think IMG scouted people like me.”

It was safe to say Y/n was unlike the typical runway model. Every now and then a high fashion show would hire a man with tattoos to walk for them. Very rare would you see a woman on the runway. For Y/n, that seemed to be the case in the beginning of her career. She did walk in the Marco Marco show that year which was the highlight of her life. Inked Magazine got so much response on her first feature that they made her their staple girl. Y/n worked with them the most on campaigns and even got to do a cover shoot with celebrities like Travis Barker and Kehlani. Those features got her a lot of recognition to the point she hit one million followers on instagram.

It wasn’t until Y/n went viral on the internet for her Sports Illustrated cover and becoming the first inked model to be featured in a Victoria Secret campaign that the top designers were booking her. Before long she was auditioning for brands during fashion week, securing Tom Ford, Calvin Klein, and Oscar de la Renta. Due to her tattoos being the star of the show, there were hardly any clothes on her save for tiny tops and skirts or dresses with intricate cutouts. She didn’t mind of course. After all, her tattoos were a part of her and the reason she was getting the opportunities of a lifetime.

Milan, Paris, London, New York. Fashion week was gonna have to get used to a new face in town.

Vogue, GQ, Vanity Fair, Inked. Pick up an issue and you’d find Y/n on at least one page, if not the cover.

Every now and then she’d get asked to appear in music videos for bands. The Weekend once asked her to be the cover art for one of his singles, bringing her more attention as "The Inked Beauty from Blinding Lights cover art.”

She appeared on the Inked Magazine YouTube channel several times. The most popular video being when she did a Q&A released shortly after walking in the last ever Victoria Secret Fashion Show in 2018, becoming the first inked model to walk the VS runway. Though it had low ratings, Y/n’s bit was plastered on every social media site, many tweeting: “the best thing VS could’ve done for their final show was put Y/n L/n in it. She carried the damn thing.”

“Hello, I’m Y/n L/n,” she smiled shyly at the camera, her agent Bonnie and publicist giving a thumbs up. “I’m a tattoo and high fashion model from New York City. You may recognize me from the cover of Inked Magazine, or discovered me through some of my other projects over the last couple years—hell maybe I even tattooed you at one point,” chuckling as she feels her nerves slowly evaporate. “Today I’m here with Inked Magazine, the owners of my heart and career, and I'm gonna answer some questions sent in by you guys about my tattoos and career.”

The producer gives a nod, “Ready, Y/n.”

“Let me hear them, sonny boy.”

“What was your first tattoo and at what age did you get it?”

Thankfully she was wearing a tube top beneath her jacket, removing the clothing to reveal the many inked designs on her chest, and stomach. Pointing to the one just below her ribs, Y/n says, “So this was my first one—as you can tell by how faded it is compared to the others. I got it when I was eighteenth birthday, literally wasted no time and my family is actually who inspired it.”

“As of right now, how many tattoos do you have?” The question has Y/n think for a moment, tilting her head back slightly.

“I counted just the other week and I think it was close to…. seventy,” nodding she adds, “yeah I think that’s right. I know I had fifty when Inked contacted me four years ago for my first feature. So I’ve added twenty to the collection since.” She made a mental note to count again when she got home that night.

“Do you have any tattoo regrets?”

A nervous chuckle escaped, “Fuck, uh….yes,” she looks down shamefully, but gives a shrug like, ‘I can explain.’ Lifting her head back up, Y/n takes her two index fingers and gently pulls down her bottom lip to reveal the messy smudged ink that once read, ‘baby girl’. The camera zoomed in and once they got a good shot of it Y/n let her lip fall back into place, “I don’t know if you were able to read that but when it was freshly done eight years ago it said,” she pulled a face showing she was too embarrassed to say it. “It said ‘baby girl.’ I got it when I was twenty on a dare and frankly I thought it would be hot, but it faded so quick—which,” she raised a finger, “that’s the one place I would say don’t get a tattoo. Even though it’s technically temporary…you’ll end up with a blob of ink like mine and it’s not cute.”

“Where were the most painful spots you got tattooed?” Immediately she lifted her arms to show she had ink on her armpits.

“These basterds right here,” the producer and crew laughed, nodding along with her. “You feel me? Yeah, I thought the ones on my stomach and ribs were bad. Those were a tickle compared to my armpits—-oh and my elbows. I think I actually broke a sweat when I got those done. It’s why I have yet to conquer my knees,” patting the covered area, Y/n shakes her head, “I don’t know If i can do it. But funny enough, these tiny little hearts on my palms,” Y/n flashed her palms up, the camera focusing on the two red lined hearts in the middle of each hand. “These hurt so bad. Thankfully I’m not putting anything else here because I strictly wanted the hearts, so I’m sparing myself.”

“What do they mean?” The producer asked, taking a pause from reading out the next question. The little smile Y/n gave was shy.

“I was told a lot growing up that I keep my heart in the palm of my hand,” while she explained Y/n kept glancing at the hearts, “kinda like the saying, ‘wearing your heart on your sleeve,’ but with me it’s literally in the palm of my hand. So I got these little hearts on my palms—that way when I hold someone’s hand, they can feel the love and care I have for them,” sending a wink to the camera she finishes with, “because my heart is in my palm.”

“Have you ever dated anyone with more tattoos than you?”

“Noooo,” she snorts. “Not because I’m not open to it—I’m very attracted to people with tattoos. And I have dated people with a lot…it just seems that anytime I do get into a serious relationship, I’m the one who has more than the other. And if you’re thinking about who I think you are—,” Y/n points directly to the camera, like a mother scolding her child, “the answer is no, he did not have more than me. Louis has thirty-three, I believe, since the last time he and I talked—which was,” she pauses to think, “I think around New Year’s.”

“Do you find yourself enjoying campaign shoots or runway shows more?”

“That’s hard,” Y/n pouts, causing her agent to chuckle since she knew the answer first hand. “Both are fun in their own way. I love being able to come into a studio or go out on sight and do a photo shoot—except in the fucking winter because I’m usually half naked freezing my ass off.” She pauses to laugh with the crew before continuing. “And then there's this feeling of ‘wow, that just happened,’ when I step off the runway. Getting to work with designers I’ve idolized since childhood and being the face of Mugler is a dream come true. If I had to choose…..it would be campaigns and photo shoots. There I can express myself more freely.”

“Do you see yourself still modeling in ten to twenty years time?”

There was a question she had to think about, taking a moment before answering. “I sure hope so. I love my job and definitely see myself continuing in the future. As long as my agent Bonnie and Inked don't get tired of me,” she laughs, winking at the woman who blows her a kiss. “But honestly I have experience as a tattoo artist so I could see myself opening my own parlor. I’d love to start my own blog or get other tattoo models into the industry. There’s a lot to think about what the future holds, but for right now I’m gonna have fun in the present.”

While home in New York when not booked, Y/n continued to work part-time at the tattoo parlor. She left the bar shortly after signing with IMG, but still visited whenever she could. There was even a picture of one of her Inked shoots framed above the bar.

With her new found fame the parlor had little to no openings each month. Regulars and new clients had to call in to reserve an appointment the second the schedule was dropped, which was sometimes weeks in advance. Several of the friends Y/n made in the modeling industry would get tattoos from her, though they always tended to go for the fine line style. More celebrities booked with her boss, adding Cardi B, Rihanna, and Louis Tomlinson to the list. The latter whom, as mentioned, Y/n actually got romantically linked to in mid 2017. It only lasted a few months, but the photo of the two on the Inked instagram was the most liked on their page.

Louis wasn’t the only high profiled person Y/n was involved with. Unfortunately the downside to fame meant her personal life was to be blasted on every inch of the internet. From starting her modeling career in 2014 to spring of 2019, she’d been spotted with actors Michael B. Jordan, Tom Felton, and fellow model Vladimir Ivanov. Like Louis, they only lasted a couple weeks to months—save for Vladimir which lasted almost over a year—and ended on good terms where they remained friends.

Frankly when it came to settling down Y/n hoped to find someone who was sweet and down to earth. Who was a hard worker—passionate about what they did for a living and wanting to share that with her. Someone who could make her laugh and feel like she was the only girl in the world. It was hard finding someone like when the spotlight follows you around. Y/n had been in the public eye going on six years and due to her connections with big named people she never seemed to catch a break when it came to romance.

All those qualities she desired in a life partner came to her in the form of the adorable weapons system officer she met at a party in November of 2019. The poor guy felt so out of place. From behind the bar Y/n could see him at the corner glancing around like he was searching for someone. Only getting a glimpse at the side of his face, she didn’t recognize him. The party had many from the fashion industry to celebrate Anna Wintour’s 70th birthday. What was ironic was Y/n took up the task of working the bar, kicking into her skills from when she was a bartender at a popular biker club in Manhattan. With her view she was able to see the entire floor as people entered.

The man she’d been eyeing must’ve come in when she was busy making the Hadid sisters their drinks. He wore a white dress shirt with some slacks and a matching blazer. His glasses reminded her of the popular style from the 80s. Come to think of it, they were probably the aviator style. He was tall, roughly six foot so she’d be eye level with him considering she was wearing two inch kitten heels.

Seeing his flustered demeanor and the fact he looked like he didn’t know what the hell he was doing there—not to mention he was handsome from what she could see, Y/n waltzed over, “May I get you anything?”

When he spun around she was met with the most gorgeous pair of blue eyes staring back at her. They blinked rapidly, like they were trying to decipher if she was in fact real. Then they snapped straight to her neck, following the ink of the exposed skin on display from her red latex mini dress—which his face mirrored the color of since he was making it quite known he was checking her out. He had a baby face to him, which was kinda adorable, and Y/n assumed he was maybe a year or two younger than her.

Offering a smile Y/n said, “So what will it be?”

“Huh?” He said confused before remembering what she initially asked before he got distracted. “Oh uh, just water please.” Still smiling, Y/n took a clean empty glass and filled it with ice before adding the water. Finishing it with a straw she placed it on a napkin in front of him.

“Will that be all?”

“Yes. Thank you,” he took the glass, glancing around briefly before letting his shoulders drop.

“You seem a bit out of place,” Y/n wiped down the countertop, catching his attention again. The man nervously laughed, adjusting his glasses.

“Is it that obvious?”

“A bit,” she teased, nodding her head to the crowd in front of them. “All these people walk around like they own the place. You’re the first person I’ve seen tonight who doesn’t seem to know what he’s doing. Are you here with someone?” Part of her was hoping he’d say a friend invited him, feeling a sudden rush of butterflies at the way he looked at her—like he couldn’t believe she was real.

“My sister dragged me along,” he confirms, the model mentally sighing in relief. But she couldn’t get her hopes too high. For all she knew he may have a partner back home. “I was visiting her this past week and she begged me to come. I told her it was a bad idea since I’m not….part of this crowd.”

“Ah,” she hums, biting back a grin at the way he described the industry. “Not a model or influencer, I take it?”

“Nooooo,” his laugh filled her stomach with butterflies. “Not at all. I don’t know how to work social media. Are you?”

Y/n refilled a guest's drink and handed over a beer to another, “I dabble here and there,” it was refreshing to meet someone who wasn’t familiar with her work. Usually at events like the one they were at she had people coming up to her already knowing who she was. “You’re probably like, ‘thought she was just a bartender,’” she giggled at the flustered look taking over him. “I was one before being discovered. I’m doing this for fun honestly—-and because Anna likes what I make her.”

His eyes went to her neck and collarbones, lingering on the ink. She assumed he’d never seen a model with so many tattoos before. “You can look,” she smirked, when he glanced away from being caught staring. “You’re only seeing a small portion of the canvas,” his eyes went wide at her words, making her giggle, “these babies are the reason I’m in this business.”

“You're a tattoo model?”

Y/n raises a brow at the surprise in his tone, “Didn’t know they existed, handsome?”

“No-no,” he quickly apologizes, “sorry I meant no offense. I knew there were models with a lot of tattoos. My sister told me that the industry was starting to expand by signing more people with them.” His words have Y/n intrigued. Obviously his sister was someone in the business, she wondered if she knew her.

“Is your sister one?”

“No, she’s an agent,” Y/n stops what she’s doing, towel long forgotten.

“For a modeling agency?”

“Yeah.”

“Which one?” Just as the question left her lips, Bonnie’s voice interrupted the two, “Bob, there you are! Oh good—,” she grins wide when she sees who he’s talking to, “You guys met!”

Snapping their heads toward each other, the two have the same expressions of, “wait what?”

Bonnie claps her hands, coming beside Bob at the bar and motioning between the two, “Y/n, this is my brother, Robert—the one I was telling you about last week,” mouth slightly agape, remembering the conversations the two had about Bonnie’s brother—in which the agent suggested setting up a date between the two—Y/n watches Bob react the same when Bonnie then says, “Bob, this is Y/n L/n. One of my clients at IMG—I know I’ve mentioned her before to you.”

Not knowing what to do at first, Y/n extends her hand to formally introduce herself, “So you must be the famous, Bob,” butterflies swarm her stomach again by the warmth of Bob’s hand when he goes to shake it. “I’m Y/n. So nice to finally meet you—Bonnie’s told me a lot about you.”

“W-wow,” Bob stutters, mentally hating himself when he does. “It’s really nice to meet you too, ma’am. I wasn’t expecting to meet you tonight, but now I see why Bonnie was so adamant I come.” A pointed look is thrown at Bonnie, who shrugs with a smile like she did no wrong.

“Well seeing as you two found each other without me, I’ll leave you both to it. Bob, let me know if you plan on riding with me back to the house or if you catch a ride. And Y/n I’ll see you bright and early Monday morning.” Winking, Bonnie takes the Cosmopolitan Y/n made for her and scurries off, leaving the two alone.

“I should’ve known,” Y/n laughs lightly, topping off Bob’s water. “Your sister has brought you up the past couple times she and I have gotten together,” lips curl into a smirk, “she wasn’t lying when she said you were a cutie.”

Bob turns red, smiling shyly, “when she told me about the inked beauty she worked with, she left out the fact you’re a walking piece of art.” His boldness impressed her, Y/n leaning closer to him against the bar top, resting her elbow on to so she could lean her head on her hand.

“How long are you gonna be in New York?”

“Till Wednesday,” part of her was disappointed that it was only four days away considering it was currently Saturday. But it was enough time for something to blossom.

“Tell me about yourself, Bob. The night’s early and I could listen to you talk for hours. Let’s see if Bonnie was psychic when she said we’d be quite the puzzle when put together.”

Ever heard of the type of couples where the girl radiates black cat energy and the guy is a literal golden retriever?

That was Y/n and Bob to a tee.

Out in public they stood out—even in a city like New York. Then when Y/n went to San Diego to meet his friends for the first time after four months together—which also resulted in her being stuck in California due to lockdown from the covid pandemic—it was like everyone couldn’t believe someone like Bob was with someone like Y/n.

He was a quiet, reserved naval officer and she was a sharp-tongued, world renowned tattoo model. They were the definition of the couple in high school you’d never expect would hit it off.

When Bob introduced Y/n to the squad, they instantly knew who she was, but had different ways of discovering her. Nat saw her walk in the VS Fashion show, Mickey and Reuben recognized her from The Weekend’s cover art, Javy remembered her from an episode of Ink Master she appeared on, Jake saw her on the cover of Sports Illustrated, and Bradley actually got a tattoo from Y/n when he was in NYC.

The entire period Y/n was in San Diego she grew close to the squad, even Maverick who had a lot of questions about her work and tattoos. “You think I’d look good with them at my age?” Y/n couldn’t help but laugh at the question, ensuring the Captain with a pat on the back.

“Some of the sexiest men I’ve met have been your age with ink more in than me,” she giggles when he goes red. “I worked at a biker bar in New York City. Believe me, Pete. Anyone can look good with some ink.”

Needless to say when it came time for Mav to get a tattoo, Y/n was the one doing it.

A lot of the squad ended up getting work done by her. Jake, Mickey and Rooster had a few already so they were familiar with the process. Nat only had one from a drunk night in college, which Y/n redid on her behalf since it had faded. Payback was a man who liked bold, meaningful tattoos so sometimes Y/n had her work cut out for her but she always came through.

“Yo is this gonna hurt bad,” Javy was practically sweating as Y/n removed the stencil from his shoulder. The design was a geometric sun about the size of an airpod case.

“It’ll sting, but this area generally isn’t too painful. If this was your bicep then it’d be a different story.”

Javy didn’t look convinced, turning to look at the guys while the stencil dried, “How was it for you guys?”

“Didn’t hurt at all for me,” Rooster shrugged, “my bicep was worse—like she said.”

“Yeah, you’ll be fine,” Payback waved a hand. “You see how tiny it is? It’ll be over before you know it.”

Going over the details once more to confirm the colors and shading, Y/n moved her chair closer after turning on the tv to an episode of Chopped. “You ready, Jav?”

“Ready,” he didn’t really sound like it but it was too late to back out. The buzz of the needle filled his ears and soon the stinging sensation they all said had him clutching his first.

“Try to relax, man” Bob sat on the chair next to Y/n, “being tense won’t help.”

After over a year of dating Bob had his fair share of tattoos. His were mostly small and easily hidden by his uniform. When they first got together, Bob loved learning about her tattoos. When she got them, why she did. If there were any meaning behind certain ones and if she planned to get more.

She was like a walking art gallery. So many colors and styles. Large and small. Y/n told him stories about almost every one—even if they were embarrassing like the inner lip tattoo.

“Biggest mistake,” she wiped a tear after she was done, the two laughing so hard. “Not only did it hurt but it faded not even a year after I got it. Now it looks so bad—I should get it redone but what’s the point when it will just end up looking the same.”

Bob hated when people would give her looks of disproval when they’d go out, usually from those who were unfamiliar with Y/n’s work. One time he nearly got into a bar fight with a older gentleman who thought it was okay to call Y/n a Jezebel. Rooster and Mickey had to hold him back, but Y/n simply looked at the guy and said, “Baby, I’m a fucking millionaire because of these bad boys. While you’re about to kick it the dust I’m gonna be on the cover of Vogue magazine next month. So eat shit and die already.” The man was left speechless, making her and the squad smirk in victory. The equally tatted bartender who knew of Y/n whistling and even given her a free round.

“That was so fucking hot,” Bob pulled her into a searing kiss when they left the bar moments later, Y/n smirking against his lips, “You think that was hot? I’m a mess under these pants from seeing you so worked up, baby. Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

Whenever he and Y/n would cuddle she’d trace the raised ink with a finger, Bob doing the same to hers and committing them to memory. He loved to kiss the ones on her neck and collarbones, but his favorite were the tiny hearts on the palms of her hands.

“What do these mean,” he asked one day during the early days of their relationship. They were laying out on the hammock, taking her hands to admire the collection of small tattoos along her fingers and wrists. He hadn't even realized she had any on the palms until he flipped them over. There his thumbs traced over the red outline of each heart.

“If you ask any person I’ve ever loved or cared for they’d tell you I carry my heart in the palm of my hand,” she flips her hands so they are holding Bob’s, the tattoos against his skin. “So when I hold people’s hands, they know a piece of my heart lies with them.” Letting her head fall back against his shoulder, Y/n shifts so her lips are against his jaw. “And I’m kinda hoping you’re the only one who gets to hold them from here on out.”

Anytime after that Bob would press a kiss to the hearts whenever he held her hands. Then when asked about what tattoo of Y/n’s was his favorite his answer was always, “the hearts.”

His family adored her. At first they were put off by her striking image but learned quickly Y/n was perfect for Bob. The children of his siblings loved taking washable markers to color in the tattoos Y/n had that were black and white. “Can I draw you a tattoo someday?” Little Emma asked shortly after the couple celebrated one year. She was a little artist who loved asking questions about the pretty pictures on Y/n.

“Of course, my love,” she promised. “Draw me whatever you desire and I shall get it done.”

The first fashion show Y/n booked after the pandemic Bob had front row seats. With his phone out he was the ultimate cheerleader, though he refrained from whistling or making noise so as to not embarrass the model, but would be in absolute awe when she strutted past him. It was the Tom Ford show, Y/n had walked out in a long black trench coat, coming to the end of the runway first before removing the item to reveal a silk dress underneath. It was spaghetti strapped with an open back, thigh slit to compliment her legs and the cameras loved it. She walked a few steps back up and turned to strike one last pose before making her exit.

Bob was mesmerized. It was the first time he’d seen her walk the runway and my God if he wasn’t already a simp he sure was then. A photographer captured his reaction to her discarding the coat and it went viral on Twitter.

@ inmyreputationera: if my man doesn’t look at me like @inkedbyY/n bf at NYFW then I don’t want it.

@ Inked✔️: We’re all Bob Floyd when @inkedbyY/n steps onto the runway.

When it came time to pick out her wedding dress Y/n was unsure of the route to go. It’d been five years the two were coming up on, one year of being engaged with the wedding to take place in North Island. A beach wedding in the late fall, Y/n wanted to look elegant and classy.

“Whatever you choose you’ll gonna look amazing, darling,” Bob kissed her head after she sighed when shuffling through bridal magazine pictures of dresses she’d cut out. “You know I love your tattoos—they are a part of you and I don’t want you feeling like you have to cover up for the sake of pictures. Baby, you’re one of the top models in the world. Like you told me when we first met, those babies are what got you discovered. Show them off.” Rubbing her shoulder exposed from her tank top, his lips pressed to the ink covering the skin. “But if you like this,” he pointed to the dress she kept going back to in her pile, it was elegant and pretty with neckline that fell just below her collarbones. “Then you should get it because you love it.”

The ceremony dress ended up being the one with a high neckline. It had open back with Y/n deciding on a her veil cascading down to the floor to become a small train rather than having the dress itself have it. Lace covered her arms, the ink peeking out from beneath to make the material stand out more due to the contrast.

She was stunning. An actual goddess that had Bob’s jaw drop the second his eyes landed on her. For the reception Y/n changed into a white two piece set that showed off her legs.

And you best believe she hired local tattoo artists to do a ‘spur of the moment’ tattoo booth at the party.

It didn’t take long for Inked Magazine to want to do a bridal shoot with Y/n. And if you look at it one way, it was a full circle moment. The issue marked ten years since they discovered Y/n and blessed her with the career of a lifetime that led her to meeting the love of her life.

All because she had a knack for getting ink.

……………..

TGM tag list: @avaleineandafryingpan @caitsymichelle13 @poppyalice2001 @cutelittlepotatofry @luckyladycreator2 @americaarse @elenavampire21 @back-tooo-black @wildellaa

#Spotify #bob floyd imagine #robert bob floyd fanfiction #robert floyd imagine #robert floyd x reader #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x y/n #robert floyd #robert bob floyd #bob floyd #bob floyd fluff #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun maverick imagine #top gun maverick #lewis pullman imagine #lewis pullman #tattoo!reader #tgm fluff #tgm imagine

631 notes · View notes

thrawns-backrest · 9 months

Text

Ba'kif art! (Please don't repost/use without permission)

I designed a book cover version too because I thought it looked neat. As always, headcanons under the cut

These are mostly about the uniform because I'm obsessed with uniforms. I designed it after a navy admiral dress uniform because I like the clean white design with fewer belts. This is however not a dress uniform because of the chain style.

We know the Chiss wear chains instead of medals and this is my version of 'ribbon bars' for them - a more practical way to display awards. The catch here being that ribbon bars still display the individual award which isn't the case here. My inworld explanation is that when you get that many awards in the Chiss military, it doesn't really matter what kind of awards they are lol. It's also meant to resemble an aguillette to a degree.

One side of each chain is attached to a bar clipped to the uniform while the other attaches to another hanging chain hooked to the pauldron. I imagine this ensemble with white trousers worn over the boots in line with that whole navy admiral vibe.

As for hair color, my headcanon is that Chiss don't gray as a rule as humans do. It's something that affects a small part of the population and happens rapidly at an earlier point in their life. It's still considered fairly normal though and even desirable as rare features often are. (ie I really wanted to make Ba'kif the Chiss version of a silver fox so I did.)

#thrawn #thrawn ascendancy #ba'kif #thrawn trilogy #thrawn books #chiss art #chiss ascendancy #chiss culture #click for better quality #my art

266 notes · View notes

furbygoblinxiv · 11 months

Text

Ok now to be annoying about a completely different flavor of Zelda: That cartoon from the 80s that has aged so poorly I take psychic damage every time I watch it (which has been multiple times (I have problems)). A few months ago when rewatching and being sick of the Link's personality from the show (his best feature is how funny the "Well excuuuuse me, princess" line is) I was like "I wish the quiet kid from the games/art was here instead" and accidentally thought too hard and made an au/rewrite of the cartoon lmao.

Anyways Zelda cartoon au where cryptid boy Link saves the post apocalyptic Hyrule of loz 1 and chills in the castle with cartoon Zelda to defend the triforce pieces that they have while trying to find the last piece before Ganon can find it, stumbling across the sleeping loz 2 Zelda along the way lol. Hijinks ensue as he teaches Zelda the brawns to back up her girlboss and he gets an adventure buddy because its dangerous to go alone and Zelda with her boomerang and crossbow goes hard. I think a monster of the week style plot works for the earlier Zelda games, but an overarching plot could coexist with that since that is kinda how games work lol.

As per usual here are a bunch of slapdash barely related sketches of my ideas with my expanded thoughts below bc I think it'd be fun to share:

I look at the official art of Link being a quiet determined little dude with a backpack of tools and wish that that was represented more. Like look at him! What a guy! Imagine giving a quiet puzzle solving 14 year old a sword, lethal magical weapons, and a wasteland to explore! I would love a show about that! In terms of other characters, swap out that annoying fairy character, put in a Navi clone, at least Navi didn't have a crush on Link🤮. Ganon can stay the same so long as he was always a demon pig and was never a Gerudo man because unlike Nintendo, I do not want to imply that the only prominent man of color in the series has only one big braincell thats just screaming "EVIL" on loop. But! Keep Zelda the same, I love her so much in the cartoon, she's obnoxious in a slay girlboss way, maximum vibes. By virtue of not having a paper thin plot, most other characters that were fine get fixed by proxy.

I think plot wise? It takes place a few years after the first game. Initially, Link saved the royal family and they started rebuilding that area of Hyrule, and Link traveled around to help people. One day, Ganon's minions start making attacks on the castle to steal the triforce pieces back to revive him fully, and a Zelda who greatly admires Links steps up to defend the place. Eventually, Zelda requests Link return to help defend the castle while they search for the mysterious hidden third triforce piece in order to combine the full thing and wish for peace in Hyrule. Link agrees and the hyjinks begin.

IIRC the og Link backstory was that he was the son of the hyrulean queen and the elf king or smth? In the manga? I didn't want him to be hylian royalty but I wanted to keep that cryptid vibe, hence why I have him related instead to the great fairy and the kokiri. He just leaves the forest/cave one day with literally nothing to go save Hyrule, what a chad. I think it'd be funny if people describe Zelda as feral due to how boisterous and headstrong she is, especially out on the field, but Link is the quiet version of wild that you don't notice at first. She is openly intelligent and snarky in comparison to "says 3 lines a day, bombs first and asks questions later, explore under every rock and bush" forest kid Link.

It would be fun though if "rushes into danger" Zelda resonated more with the triforce of power and "solves dungeon puzzles for funsies" Link with the triforce of wisdom, then they both resonated with the triforce of courage upon finding it. idk tho lol

I also think two different young Zeldas coexisting with each other after one awoke from a cursed slumber would be really funny. Like that's gotta be so awkward, especially if one has the fighter girlboss slay up to 11 and the other just woke up from a coma to her family gone and her kingdom destroyed and just kinda wants to read books and drink tea in peace. Imagine being the same age or older than your great (great?) aunt. Or imagine if the old lady Impa nursemaid to Zelda 1 Zelda was the young Impa nursemaid to the Zelda 2 Zelda. Wild.

If I wasn't incapable of remembering to finish writing wips I'd write that series lol. Alas, this is all I can pull for now.

I'd love to call this propaganda to go watch the show but maybe don't because its yikes. This is moreso propaganda for someone to make a Zelda cartoon show instead of the movie that I sense Nintendo is plotting to make. Also, if you've read this far, I should mention I also will probably be posting art from some of my actual long term Zelda aus beyond just expanding on the cartoon, though I may continue to do that if my train of thought continues on these tracks.

#legend of zelda #loz #zelda cartoon #legend of zelda au #loz au #zelda cartoon au #zelda au #my art tag #actually yeah i think i WILL post more of my aus actually #to free myself from the shackles of cringe and also to do something with these huge documents sitting dormant on my drawing app

197 notes · View notes

lillazyboithings · 9 months

Text

Cardverse AU

Hi y'all! I've been working on this AU for almost a month now, so I really hope y'all like it as much as I do!

A basic explanation is that Cardverse is an AU based on the 4 card suits. Spades, Hearts, Diamonds, and Clubs.

There are usually 3 major roles like the cards, Kings, Queens, and Jacks. There are also Jokers but i haven't drawn them yet

I decided to split the choir all up based on their connections, and I wanted to add Tammy and Ezra too just to make them all an even 12

Details of my eternal brainrot below:

First of all, they're all organized by rank but if you see the colors, they're already assigned to one of the 4 card suits: Blue and Purple shades for Spades, Pink and Red for Hearts, Orange and Yellow for Diamonds, and every shade of green for Clubs.

•Kings are primarily in charge of both the kingdom and are the generals of their own armies

•Queens are in charge of the kingdom's navy, they check and balance for the king's decisions, and can basically rule on their own as a Queendom if the king is not found yet. Usually Queens are from aristocracy/one family line but in some special cases, they're also commoners

•Jacks are in charge of the finances and policies of the kingdom, they also check and balance the king's decisions like the queen, and also work as ambassadors for other kingdoms

•the role of the joker is kinda conflicting but some portray them as evil trickster gods set on causing chaos throughout the kingdoms, some believe they're there to keep order in the kingdoms, the common thing is that they're rarely seen and have been there since like...forever

•The Black joker can see back into the past, they watch over Spades and Clubs

•The Red joker can see into the future, they watch over hearts and diamonds

They all have marks all over their body to identify their ranks, the card suits also have traits:

Spades: Power {placement of mark}

•King - Ocean { left wrist}

•Queen - Constance { right cheek}

•Jack - Ricky {back of left hand}

Diamonds: Wealth

•King - Hank {right palm}

•Queen - Astrid {left palm}

•Jack - Trishna {neck}

Hearts: Emotion

•King - Mischa {right hip}

•Queen - Noel {back of right shoulder}

•Jack - Corey {right calf}

Clubs: Luck

•King - Penny {left upper arm}

•Queen - Tammy {left shoulder}

•Jack - Ezra {left ankle}

Passionfrenchrap (Mischa x Noel x Corey [shoutout to clem])

The ships are:

CDplayer (Penny x Tammy)

Sugarspace (Ricky x Constance)

Lovebite (Hank x Astrid)

Tags section (thank you Gay Taco Bell for making the brainrot so strong that I had to flesh it out):

@theoneunidentifiedbody @meowelgroober @zstarcatsz @undercoverbumblebeee @fucking-gay-frogs @joeseventies @m1sch4-b4ch1nsk1 @finleyforevermore @cardinaldust @dyne-osaur + everyone else who's in gay taco bell but I'm too shy to tag because idk if y'all would like it (kiss kiss mwuah to everyone there)

Btw, should i make a dedicated blog for this au? like for infodumping, art, and also make it an ask blog. (pls let me make this, i literally have a goofy idea about how mischa became king-)

137 notes · View notes

neon-onyx · 2 years

Text

The hero woke up with a throbbing, burning pain in their side. Their hands pulled back the comforter in search of the origin, four stitches neatly lined up across a closed gash in their side. They grappled with the overwhelming urge to touch them. To see if they were real or if they were dreaming.

The pain was cruelly vivid for a dream. And the flashing memory of a fight behind their eyelids and the lingering feeling of dread felt too intricate.

But dreaming would explain why they suddenly had navy sheets and a thick comforter. Why the walls were dark green and not the dull white of their apartment. Why every movement felt alien and unreal.

“Don’t mess with your stitches. They’ll get infected.” The door of their room was open, revealing villain, balancing a bowl and spoon in one hand and a cup in the other. Villain as their nurse? The hero let their head fall back against the pillow. They had to be dreaming.

“I know you don’t like eggs so I got you some cheerios instead. Iron. Good for blood loss. I also have some Tylenol, some real pain killers, and a lactose pill, just incase.” They rested the cups and bowl on the bedside table. They were meticulous in dreams too.

The hero held their breath as they slowly came to sit up. Painstaking would be a better description, especially when the hero had burrowed their teeth into their lips to keep from whining. “Where am I? And, just to be safe, is this a dream?”

“This is my spare bedroom. Welcome. And you are definitely awake.” The hero looked around the room again, as if they were really seeing it for the first time. The dark, muted colors. The gold detailing. The framed, mind bending, abstract art. It flowed together with the spiced scent of sandalwood and pine and screamed Villain.

The hero’s gaze shifted to the bowl of cereal beside them, only slightly soggy from the milk beneath. Endless little honey-nut eyes staring up at them. Something in them stirred, pushing tears to the brink of their vision.

“Thank you.”

“You can thank me by eating-”

“No, really. Thank you. I don’t totally remember what happened but I think I would’ve died if it weren’t for you. And .. And now you’re giving me cheerios and worrying about if I’m lactose intolerant and -“ The hero’s derailed gratitude was a halted by a spoon full of cereal being shoved in their mouth.

“You’re welcome. Now eat. If you faint again I think I’ll have a heart attack.”

Thanks for reading. If you liked it check out my masterlist.

#writeblr #hero x villain #villain #hero #mine #comfort

554 notes · View notes

hiccanna-tidbits · 5 months

Text

@jackunzel-time

Jackunzel Month Week 1 - The Artist and the Muse

***

You hide your eyes behind the shades Your stroke can make the climate change Your art should see the light of day (you and me a masterpiece)

You never let your colors show Lose your face when we get close I’ve seen you paint, nobody knows (you and me a masterpiece)

You’ve got an artist inside you Come drown in my navy blue Tonight let the artist inside me be you

Baby paint me like a canvas – don’t mind You’re dripping colors on the mattress tonight Dip your brush into the pallet, all mine Make the shades of you and me a masterpiece

Put your body where my heart is My love I’m the muse and you’re the artist Don’t stop Gotta finish what you started Oh, god Make the shades of you and me a masterpiece

You make me Scream in Starry Nights The golden kiss, mysterious smile You never let the paint run dry (you and me a masterpiece)

I’m standing pose for your design Your fingertips, they reach for mine Let’s make a mess and cross the line (you and me a masterpiece)

You've got an artist inside you Come drown in my navy blue Tonight let the artist inside me be you

Baby paint me like a canvas – don’t mind You’re dripping colors on the mattress tonight Dip your brush into the pallet, all mine Make the shades of you and me a masterpiece

Put your body where my heart is My love I’m the muse and you’re the artist Don’t stop Gotta finish what you started Oh, god Make the shades of you and me a masterpiece

Make the shades of you and me a masterpiece

Baby paint me like a canvas You’re dripping colors on the mattress Drip your brush into the pallet And make the shades of you and me a masterpiece

Baby, paint me like a canvas – don’t mind You’re dripping colors on the mattress tonight Dip your brush into the palette, all mine Make the shades of you and me a masterpiece

Put your body where my heart is My love I’m the muse and you’re the artist Don’t stop Gotta finish what you started Oh, god Make the shades of you and me a masterpiece

***

People always ask her at art shows where she gets her inspiration. Come spring, the assortment of pieces she's pumped out during the darker months never fails to amaze.

Streetlights shining through blizzard flurries. Ice on early April buds. Peach, rose, and lavender sunsets through snow-filled clouds. White-topped pine forests so mesmerizing that you can practically feel the stillness and silence of the winter.

Every time, Rapunzel smiles mysteriously and cites another artist.

"He's...underappreciated. His work hasn't ever had its day in the sun. But I've seen the best of it."

She always straightens proudly at the last part. And her customers can't help but be jealous that she gets to see this mysterious obscure talent apparently hidden from the rest of the world.

It has to be hidden, or else Rapunzel's work wouldn't be so uniquely spectacular. More people would paint even the coldest and bleakest of winter nights--even with no holiday lights to shine through the darkness.

"What's their name?" people always ask, hoping to investigate the esoteric artist themselves.

"Jack Frost."

And they laugh, because they think she's just being poetic. Taking inspiration from the fabled creator of ice patterns on morning windows and vast, quiet snowscapes.

If only they could see the white-haired boy just above them, perched on a nearby lamppost and chuckling to himself. Invisible to all the world except the artists who see beauty in his work.

***

HIHI I'M SO SORRY I'M LATE

Heh, you didn't really think I'd forgotten Jackunzel month, did you??? Had a lot on my plate these last couple months but by GOD am I gonna pull through for my children!!! I've been making them November content for 3 years straight and I ain't about to stop now!!!

Anyways this song popped up on my spotify and I was like oh huh. Yeah that's a Jackunzel song all right. And then this happened!

I feel like it could be from both of their POVs, btw! Like Rapunzel is the one we think of as the artist, but Jack kinda is, too--just look what he can do with snow and frost! Art that never sees the light of day indeed ;_____; And "your stroke can make the climate change" like??? Literally Jack??? Also love the idea of him doing little frost designs on her skin and clothes ;_____; Just little reminders of her mans she can carry around for a while before they melt! Especially in the summertime, when she could really use it!!!

But "come drown in my navy blue" is very Jack @ Rapunzel, too. And Punz definitely has a golden kiss and mysterious smile akdjsuilkh

Depending on how you interpret these two and their relationship, you can pretend some of the, er...spicier implications of this song are a metaphor for like. Deep conversations and enthusiastic cuddling if you like XD

Can you imagine Rapunzel actually painting in her bed and getting acrylic all over her blankets and insisting it gives them character??? Shit would be hilarious. Jack would also thoroughly approve of the chaotic and general unhinged nature of it all ajshdksgd

I missed them!!! God, it's been too long!!!

As always, moodboard pic credits available upon request :3

#jackunzel #jackunzelmonth #jackunzelmonth23 #aesthetic #moodboard #jack x rapunzel #rapunzel x jack #jack frost #rapunzel #jackxrapunzel #rapunzelxjack #rotbtd #rise of the brave tangled dragons #the big four #tangled #rotg #rise of the guardians #crossover

30 notes · View notes

peaceandlove26 · 2 years

Note

How do u pick your colors?? I'm always in awe of how pretty they are

this is so sweet. i really like getting comments about my coloring bc i do feel like i have a fairly good sense of color, but its also frustrating bc i really dont know how to explain it

heres a small demonstration abt my instinctual color choices; left is twilights actual colors, right is me coloring her from memory (trying to stay as faithful as possible to her actual colors as i could lol) and disclaimer i LIKE twilights actual colors. theres no right or wrong way to color. this is just how i do it

i think the first and most obvious thing i notice is that my version is more saturated than the original, and thats easy to replicate, just stay closer to the highly saturated colors in a palette. i think if i was to color with lower saturation though, it would be All less saturated colors, and not mostly saturated with a pop of hot pink yknow?

the second thing i notice is that my palette is much more monochromatic than the original (idk if thats the right word— basically i generally choose colors close to each other on the color wheel). her mane base is indigo rather than navy blue, and her highlights are a cooler purplish pink. also generally for me, lighter colors are warmer and darker colors are cooler. this is also shown in my shadows in highlights; the original uses darker or lighter shades of the same hue for its shadows and highlights, but i make the shadows bluer and the highlights yellower. thats basic color theory stuff though i think

finally i try to keep a good amount of contrast between all the colors, which i think comes from me making a lot of lineless art. the blue and purple in twilights hair are a little hard to distinguish when you take the lines away. idk what the technique for this is, i guess maybe just turn off your linework layer to see how your contrast is or smthn

so yeah! as always i dont really know what im talking about. everything here is just trial and error through drawing a LOT of ponies lol

#i know ive posted color ‘guides’ like this before but idl its interesting to try and explain my own process to myself

233 notes · View notes

artykeldeo · 2 days

Text

how i do my (coloring) shit

ok so literally nobody's gonna see this im just doing a tumblr post so i can compile as many fuckin images as i want

first step: do ya line art. bf from friday night funkin is gonna be our subject fo today note: put the white highlights on a separate layer

aight you followin? step two. ya phlat colors

set your lineart layer's blending mode to multiply (shown in the flat lineart color as well) while my lineart color is usually a very deep navy blue, this can also work with black

step three: make a clipping layer/lock the transparency over your line art and then color that shit to make it pop

i unhid the clipping to give you a general idea of what i did to help with my color picking. i hueshift depending on what i want it to look like and go from there. if i dont like the color, i adjust the saturation and/or the value to help with that there's no method to my madness, i just kinda do what i think looks good LOL

step four: shading time! use dark saturated tones to help with making it pop.

here's what the layer blending looks like at normal with 100% opacity

note how i'm mixing in multiple different colors that seem to mirror the tones in the lineart! not required, but helps keep a piece cohesive. mix in different values to really help with this!

step four addendum: this is not required at all but i definitely like the look of it. take your shading layer and duplicate it. take both shading layers to 100% opacity

now gaussian blur the duplicated layer to however you want the thing to look!

and then adjust accordingly!

there's nothing i do this for other than to give a softer look to my shading without wasting my time blending it lol

step 5: highlights :3 this is what REALLY makes the colors go off

do the same thing you did with your shading to add some more interest in the highlights! you can see this particularly where i did the hat highlights

you're basically done here LOL! buuuuut... if you're feeling quirky, you can read below for some extra stuff to make this boy pop!

have fun colorin shit!

EXTRA STEPS!

extra step one: ok so bear with me. y'all remember that fuckin pizza trend? u know this one

ok well do that and blur the hell outta it

also not required but might help: duplicate the pizza layer and use your different blending modes

lineart layer uses the pin light blending option at 100% opacity, the color layer uses overlay blending option at 70% opacity

extra step two: use highlights like you're using a white gel pen on a traditional piece

bada bing bada boom. there he is. the beeper!

hopefully this was coherent enough! if y'all have any questions, rb this post and ask in the tabs OR ask in my ask box! thank you guys so much!

#art #digital art #art tutorial #coloring tutorial #fnf #fnf fanart #fnf boyfriend #fnf bf #clip studio #clip studio paint #cspaint #csp art #my art

7 notes · View notes

quiveringdeer · 1 year

Note

You and Reiner getting to see your kid in their first holiday play, which Reiner treats like a red carpet event. And your child just lights up when they see you guys in the crowd and can't help waving and shouting "Daddy! Daddy! Hi, Daddy!"

THE PTERODACTYL CRY I JUST MADE!!!

Jumpin over to my inbox to see this right after reading those gloriously filthy and smutty jjk text imagines and getting assaulted with this adorable freakin image has me in feeeeeelings whiplash.

Gosh. Reiner is so flippin excited for your kiddo! They're part is something really small, like a dancing snowflake that just skips across the stage at a couple key points with some other skipping snowflakes, but Reiner has been hyping them up ever since they learned they got the part!

And you can bet your ass he's found a way to be there for all the practices he's allowed to be at, and volunteered for every set building day there was! Hell, if they'd needed him to sew all the costumes himself he woulda found a way! Luckily, the school's arts department is nicely funded.

Kiddo knows they're not supposed to break character. But they can't help but wave and call out to Reiner when they see him and you there in the front rows. You have to take over filming on the phone Rei was holding because he's gone all weepy and must wave back at his lil ice fractal with BOTH HANDS DANG IT!

Of course everyone in the audience can't help but do a collective "awwwww" because they're beings with hearts and emotions. And after the play is over all the kiddos line up side-by-side for their big bow. Your lil snowflake is beaming so bright!

Reiner's large hands are probably creating half the volume of thunderous applause that's erupted from the audience. When the house lights come up he's already moved to the front of the stage so your lil darling one can hop off right into his massive arms for a tight hug and twirl. Glitter from their costume is shedding all over his dark navy blazer and crisp white buttondown but that isn't something he'd care about any other time and certainly not in the middle of this momentous occassion!

He's heaping on the praises as you walk over with a bouquet of winter pansies snuggled among many colorful towers of snapdragons and nemesia. You can't bare to breakapart the affectionate display, even though you'd like to be part of that love huddle. Luckily your sweetheart finally catches sight of you and Reiner steadies your kiddo with one arm while reaching to tug you into the snuggle fest with the other.

#i just want this life dude #😭😭😭😭😭😭😭#i dont want babies in real life but dangit if i dont wanna have a whole brood with all my blorbos #reiner x reader #nat writes #nonnie #answered asks #reiner braun #papa rei #another moment of my thoughts running away with me!

86 notes · View notes

themarshmush · 4 months

Text

Welcome to my blog! It's not even really much of a blog, I just reblog the stuff I find cool or interesting, usually in bursts. Do not repost my stuff without credit!

i also occasionally like nsfw things so avoid going in there if you don't wanna see that

My YouTube

My Instagram

Here's a little about me!

- Birthday: November 18th

- I am neurodivergent and very bad with words, so if something comes off as rude, please ask me for clarification and it will make more sense.

- I am a simp so you will be seeing that reflected here. I am also in various fandoms, but my most active ones are Five Night's at Freddy's, Portal, and Hazbin Hotel.

- I am a multishipper.

- My only (fluent) language is English, but I will be using Google Translate to understand other languages, and sometimes reblog them with a translation.

- My profile picture was created by @pillowspace

See details

Some tags that might be helpful when perusing my blog:

#reblog commentary

#poll answer

#poll answer?

#my art

#edit

#text post

#original post

#translation

#answered ask

#get to know me

I also have an ongoing ask game and username tournament! You can find the ask game under #put a number in my ask box and the tournament under #username tournament!

Profile picture image description: a mischievous-looking animatronic (Eclipse from Five Nights at Freddy's, but not in disrepair like he is when he appears) with a flat, two-toned beige and black grinning faceplate split down the middle. Their eyes are different from each other, one has a red sclera and the other has a yellow one. They both glow and have white rings as irises. They look past the camera. Orange rays like that of a cartoonish sun surround their faceplate, and the ones at the top are covered by a navy blue nightcap dotted with yellow stars and lined with white fur around the rim. Their chest is split in color just like their faceplate, but it curves into the black side more at the top and has a black button on the beige side, in the middle of their chest. They wear a navy ruffle collar with thin, golden lines towards its ends. Around the image in a circle shape are two pride flags, the non-binary flag on the left and the omni flag on the right.

#tw: cursing

10 notes · View notes

albatmobile · 1 year

Text

The Art of Rehabilitating Snowbirds Chapter 10

𓅪 After not hearing from Roy or Jason for five years, you suddenly find yourself taking in extra income as a babysitter for Roy and Jason's child.

𓅪 Rated: M | TW: Joker, violence | 6.3k includes: Wayne gala, slow dancing with the batboys (u know we got height difference w dami), wet adventures w jay ;p, finally the backstory about the scar

fem!Reader x Jason Todd x Roy Harper [masterlist]

Chapter Ten: Your Protector | ao3 - wattpad

THEN

True to his word, Jason got you an invite to the annual Wayne Gala.

Your mom only had one nice dress that she’d stolen while in Europe (X) , but it was a perfect outfit for the event, so you stole it from her closet. It wasn’t like she'd notice on the off chance she did stop by the apartment.

You’d pinned your hair in a few places to give your locks some dramatic volume to match the elegance of the night. Your light, smokey makeup accentuated the color of the vibrant blue dress and, somehow, ended up matching Damian’s navy suit.

Roy hadn’t been invited, though you already knew his rambunctious behavior would not bode well with an uptight, stuffy environment like this, but you?

You loved this.

Even though you were too shy to mingle and your mother’s dress was definitely made for someone her age and not yours, you were just as glad to follow Damian around as he forced himself to socialize under Bruce's watchful, read: warning, gaze.

He only really stopped to talk to a few people who eyed up your scantily clad body with a certain snobbish glare that only Gotham elitists could manage. You, on the other hand, were just happy to have found any sort of formal outfit. After the fourth grandma gawked at your tits, you asked Damian if he wanted you to leave, but he assured you made the event ‘much more tolerable.’ That was Damian speak for: he’s really glad you came.

It wasn’t until half an hour later that you managed to find the table of Waynes and were truly able to enjoy the gala. Tim and Dick waved you over eagerly, leaving Damian to trudge petulantly behind the slight train of your dress. Dick donned a dark gray, plaid suit complete with his usual messy-on-purpose locks, while Tim wore a plain, burgundy three-piece with an oddly patterned, colorful tie.

“Where’s Jason?” You searched around the sea of well-dressed socialites, but his signature gray streak was nowhere to be found.

“Well, hello to you too,” Dick was already standing when you approached and Tim was quick to do the same. “Nightwing Blue?” He raised a brow at the color of your mother’s dress.

You glanced down at the silky fabric and began to smooth out the nonexistent wrinkles as you inspected the color. “I’d say it’s more of a darker Celtic blue than anything he’s had, but I definitely appreciate that that’s the first thing that came to mind.” You fist-bumped, noticing the glares from an older couple at the table next to you at such informal contact with, god forbid , a Wayne.

You pulled back sheepishly, allowing your hands to return to fiddle with the skirt of your dress.

“Don’t be that blood-orange bitch (X) ,” Damian snorted as he swatted at your unceasing nervous hands. “It’s fucking blue.”

“You wouldn’t even know that meme if it weren’t for me!” You admonished him.

He tutted lightly and checked out of your conversation with his brothers to focus instead on the dancing couples behind you. Your eyes flickered from Dick and Tim to Damian’s, following his line of sight as a new song took over.

“Why do you keep acting like you want to dance?” You questioned, “You wouldn’t even dance with me at the party.”

“That god-awful seizure you and Roy had together wasn’t dancing. This, ” He gestured to the graceful movements of the socialites right next to you, “is dancing.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think that was Damian’s way of asking you to dance. Right, little wing?” You both turned to Dick’s crinkle-eyed smile, startled.

You turned back to Damian and took in his embarrassed state with slight amusement, “You want to dance?” You asked.

He looked at you warily, “You’re asking me?”

You raised a brow at him, “Would you have asked me?”

“No.”

You snorted and held out your hand as an open invitation, “Then, that’s why I asked you, twerp.”

“I resent that,” But he took your hand, nonetheless and guided you away from his analytical brothers, who still seemed baffled, if not slightly intrigued, by the entire interaction.

When you arrived on the floor, he came face to face with you before allowing his guiding hand to drop from your grasp. You’d never had any ballroom dancing experience and felt completely lost. Damian didn't seem to care as he confidently took your hand in his own and firmly placed the other on the small of your waist and drew you closer to him.

“Resent what?” You unwittingly let out a giggle as he immediately drew you into a spin that had you grasping for his shoulders. You caught your breath as your mirthful eyes peered down into his intense gaze. “The nickname or the fact that I asked you?”

He huffed, looking away from you, “Both.”

You let out a laugh in his arms, but it was cut off when he suddenly tightened his hold around your waist, steadily dipping your taller form languidly toward the polished wood below. His hazel eyes trailed down the exposed curves of your body shamelessly and you let him, relishing in his attention.

The band changed the tempo, starting a slower, sensual rhythm. You watched as the couples around you quickly shifted to an intimate embrace. Damian followed suit and raised you up to nestle you against his chest, adjusting his grip slightly lower on your waist.

With your already standing height difference and no help from your heels, the close position left him face-to-face with your over-spilling corset. You could practically feel the emanating heat of his cheeks against your chest. You startled slightly when his head slowly came to rest against it, but you quickly found your bearings and drew him closer. You laughed lightly as his eyes innocently met yours, knowing that, while he was far from the innocent boy he was portraying, he was still somewhat vulnerable like this.

Hell, if you hadn’t known any better, you’d probably thought he was going to kiss you or something.

A twinkle of hope rang out like ripples across his dark eyes. You couldn’t help the low gasp you produced at the sight.

Was your first kiss going to be with the Wayne heir at the Wayne Gala?

What the fuck?!

His poised lips parted and your eyes darted to follow as his tongue peeked out and glided self-consciously across them. A ringing note settled lowly across the crowd, drawing your eyes to his with a silent question. His hands dragging up to rest at the back of your neck was the only response you needed to bend slightly to meet him on an even level. You allowed your eyelids to flutter shut as you leaned into his constipated thinking face that you’d come to love. You noticed, with a hint of amusement, how he seemed to wait for you to lead with bated breath.

“Damian.”

You stepped away from him so fast you nearly tripped over your heels and fell into the couple beside you. When you regained your balance, you hesitantly met Bruce’s all-knowing gaze. With one look, he seemed to take in whatever information he hadn’t already deduced simply based on your shared eye contact. It was slightly invasive and incredibly creepy. Damian, on the other hand, seemed largely unaffected aside from his lingering blush.

Bruce gave Damian an unreadable look that Damian somehow understood in an instant. He then excused himself to follow behind Bruce’s retreating form without a glance your way. You shook your head, still spinning from the whirlwind of events that occurred in such a short amount of time and made your way over to Tim, who was busy petting an older woman’s crusty white dog. You greeted them both.

“Ah, I’m afraid I’m being stolen away,” Tim said once you arrived, petting the dog a final time before smiling at the woman. “Please continue to enjoy the evening, though! I think there’s an ice luge somewhere you should see.” The woman beamed with a jovial wave to your retreating forms as you made off toward Dick and Barbara at the aforementioned luge.

“Are you sure you don’t want to finish your conversation back there?” You looked back only to see the woman had already moved on to squeeze some poor kid’s cheeks.

He followed your line of sight with a chuckle, “Trust me, you’re doing me a favor.”

You shrugged, “Alright.”

The four of you messed around with the ice luge until Alfred caught wind of what was happening and came to usher you away. The last thing he needed was for you to get drunk at another manor party or worse- Dick got drunk enough to break out the karaoke machine. Alfred did, however, grant Tim the pleasure of taking a group photo in front of the ice sculpture.

Slightly buzzed and incredibly enraptured with your conversation with Tim, you hadn’t noticed the intensity of the pair of green eyes that rested on you from across the party until Tim’s eyes repeatedly shifted over your shoulder. Finally, you turned around to see just what the fuck he was looking at-

Oh.

There he was, across the room.

You watched, hypnotized, as Jason’s half-lidded emeralds shocked yours through the throng of people between you. He smirked once he realized he had your attention and made a slow show of tugging at his tie until it was sufficiently loosened.

He wasn’t wearing a jacket, you noted as your eyes trailed up his exposed forearms to his rolled-up sleeves.

You cleared your throat, forcing yourself to tear your eyes from the steamy show Jason was putting on to nod vacantly at Tim’s hypothesis. You vaguely heard something in his explanation for why the unstable particles were able to comprehend continuous observation, but you could barely contain yourself from looking back at Jason.

“Oh, I never thought about it like that!” You said cheerily after half-paying attention, which only suited to spur on Tim’s enthusiastic babbling, much of which resembled your own.

The fuel you threw his way allowed you to turn around again and you bit your lip at the sight that met you. It was as if Jason hadn’t even noticed you’d ever looked away because he was still taking each step with a tantalizing carefulness that left you desperately gulping for air.

He reached off a nearby tray and downed a champagne flute before seamlessly placing it on another tray, never faltering in the process. You were left to wonder how could you be so turned on just by the way he walked.

“Do you think?” Tim asked suddenly, effectively stopping you from drooling any further.

“Hmm?” You turned back toward Tim only to see him glaring. “What?!”

“Hey,” Jason’s low voice rumbled your name against the roar of the party deliciously. “Wanna dance?”

Tim took in your awed form and huffed to himself, “Of course.”

“What was that, Timbo?”

“We were just debating Quantum Physics relating to the Zeno Effect and how it could be linked to dark matter,” He said, looking to you for backup, but you were too entranced by Jason’s raw, sexual prowess to respond.

Jason easily noticed your hypnotized state and smirked, “No one cares what dark, kinky shit you’re into, Timmy. Let the woman dance.”

He didn’t wait for a response, though and you put up no protest when he guided your transfixed form away from Tim. You tried to shoot an apologetic glance back at him but were ultimately too enraptured with the weight of Jason’s steady hand resting at the small of your back to do so.

You were surprised he’d even suggested this in the first place, considering how reluctant he’d been to even dance at his own party. You thought back to Damian’s random desire to dance tonight and chalked it up to the most likely cause: dancing plague-causing fungi.

While Jason easily lost himself in the crowd ahead, you still felt Tim’s watchful gaze on you until you disappeared into the hallway just outside of the ballroom. A quick movement you'd caught out of the corner of your eyes had you slightly jogging to catch up with Jason’s suited form. You watched as he flitted around the caterers that lingered in the area before finally disappearing behind a corner with a beckoning finger.

A giggle escaped from your lips at the realization he wanted you to chase him.

You couldn’t help but find the entire situation highly amusing. Well, you chasing Jason around a mansion in an evening gown like some princess movie was amusing; you nearly falling face-first to the ground from the overwhelming length of your mom’s dress- not so much.

You flipped him off when he stopped some ways ahead of you to mock your plight. You quickly righted yourself and bunched the length of the satin fabric in your fists.

And, so, the chase continued.

“You’re never gonna catch up to me in those heels, babe,” He was jogging backwards now, complete with a tipsy, shit-eating grin. You wanted to rip it right off of his dumb, attractive face. “I could do this for hours .” You, on the other hand, were already panting lightly, with your ankles ringing out angrily in tandem with each stomp you took. You were sprinting at that point and yet were somehow further away from Jason than you’d ever been. “All that training, what? Three times a week?” His eyes wrinkled with mirth at your over-exerted form. “Damian’s bullshit about finding your anchor or something.”

“Fuck off ,” You whined, coming to a stop to lean against the wall of the empty corridor, attempting to catch your breath.

The sounds of the party had long faded. Not even the caterers had a reason to be this deep into the manor; yet, there you were with Jason.

You rubbed lightly at each ankle, rolling them one after the other. It was your second time wearing heels and these were a lot higher than the ones you’d worn to the party by a long shot, so your feet were definitely feeling it.

When you finally looked up, you noticed the hallway was empty. The glass doors at the end of the hall, however, were wide open, beckoning you closer. You limped down the hall before noticing Jason in the garden through one of the windows, waiting with his back turned to you.

“You like the chase or something, freak?” You nudged his shoulder with your own when you finally sidled up beside him.

“You don’t?” He raised a brow at you.

It felt like a question you would only truly understand enough to answer if you'd been older, but, for now, you merely shrugged. You were still figuring, well, everything out.

“Why’d we come all the way out here to dance?” You asked instead.

The gardens were done the Wayne way: over the top and absolutely magical. Everything was placed with precise intention that left you feeling like you were right smack in the middle of a fairytale.

You could somewhat hear the music, but it was more like a muted warble that carried throughout the courtyard with a quiet hum. Still, definitely nothing loud enough to truly dance to.

His gaze returned back to the fountain in front of you, “You may be enjoying that shitshow, but this is more my speed.” You looked around at the quiet that surrounded the two of you, noticing as he shifted beside you to face you.

The water from the extravagant fountain trickled in the silence while the symphonious sounds of the night chirped around you.

“I’m cool with whatever.”

He laughed, genuinely laughed, before extending his pale hand out toward you, “Cool.”

Your eyes crinkled, easily meeting his cold grip with your own, “Cool.”

A brassy tune settled across the garden as Jason walked forward to close the remaining distance between the two of you. His hold was relaxed, more tender than Damian’s rigid form had been. You allowed yourself to melt into his arms.

His feet moved with intention as he managed to avoid every misstep you made and changed direction with ease each time, dragging you lazily with him into a new rhythm. You giggled when he spun you once and roared when he continued to spin you, all while using his free hand to help your skirt lavishly fan out.

“Now I see why Roy calls you what he does.”

You snorted. “Can’t even say the nickname now, even when I’m quite literally a princess at a ball?”

Jason rolled his eyes and finished spinning you before drawing you flush against his sturdy chest. You gulped, allowing your eyes to travel up the careless, wrinkled remains of his suit all the way up to his emerald eyes.

Why was he looking at you like that? You hadn’t actually kissed that one night in the library as far as you knew, but damn, did this seem familiar.

Unlike with Damian, you rested your head on Jason’s chest. Your eyelashes accidentally tickled against his bare skin when they fluttered open to stare at the protruding veins and scattered moles that lay across the expanse of his pale neck.

“You are a princess.” You smiled, lips lightly brushing against the delicate skin of his neck in the process before you shifted to meet his gaze once again.

As if to prove him wrong, your weakened ankles collapsed from under you. Jason caught you with ease, bending his knees as he helped right you on your feet. It was a wonder you could look as beautiful as the socialites inside and still be as clumsy as you were.

“Maybe just to you and Roy,” You insisted with a gorgeous smile that left Jason visibly affected.

“Maybe,” He said weakly, drawing his face closer to yours with a delicate finger placed under your chin. He dragged you lazily up until your wet lips were practically against his. You waited for him to take charge and just fucking kiss you already , but his mouth merely twisted into a smirk. “You know, babe, I really didn’t think you’d actually go through with all of this.”

What?

You sighed, wishing he would shut up and stop stalling, “Coming to the gala? I mean, you did invite me, Jason.”

“No, not that,” He snorted. “I knew you’d come-”

You cut him off, “If you knew I’d come, then why did you ditch me until just now?” You were still centimeters away from locking lips, but the growing frustration between you was threatening to kill the mood with every passing word he spoke.

“I might’ve had a few,” Jason removed his finger from your chin, quickly sensing the shift. “Didn’t help to see you with the replacement. Maybe I just wanted to see where your loyalty really lies.”

“My loyalty?” You struggled from his grip and stepped away from him, feeling your guard go up immediately. “What do you mean?”

He sighed, rubbing at his temple, “I just didn’t expect you to follow me ’sall.”

“You…” You couldn’t possibly be hearing him right. Right? Clearly, he’d had too many and lost whatever weak filter he usually had. “Jason, you mean to tell me you invited me out here as a joke?”

“Not a joke,” He reassured you like that was somehow any better.

"A test then?" You rephrased.

“I suppose more like a test than anything, yes.”

“Jason…” You trailed off, not even recognizing your friend in front of you. “I don’t need to be fucking tested , you cunt.” The Jason you’d come to know would never have the nerve to say something so casual yet cruel.

He laughed humorlessly as he walked away from you and closer to the fountain, “You did.”

“Fuck you. No, I didn’t. What would even make you say something like that?” You followed after him, coming to a stop right next to him.

“Maybe because you’re so god damned annoying and never shut the fuck up,” He uncharacteristically snapped. “Ever thought about that?”

You gasped, feeling your patience slip further and further away with each passing second, “Says the stuck-up, angsty, woe-is-me fucker who has mood swings every two fucking seconds.” You shot him a venomous glare, “And that’s being generous.”

It was then that he got up in your face. You couldn’t help but be startled by his sudden anger.

“Oh yeah?”

You pulled yourself together, steeling yourself for whatever Jason threw your way.

“Yeah, buddy. Two can play this game,” You said indignantly. “And, you know what?”

“I have a feeling you’re gonna tell me anyway, babe,” He drawled tonelessly.

Your face instantly scrunched up in anger, “I am!”

He gestured for you to continue, “Go on then.”

“My loyalty is with myself and only that. Don’t get it fucking twisted.” His breath caught in his throat unexpectedly at your statement. You used this to your advantage, stomping forward to take his face into your hands with a confidence you weren’t used to having. “Where does your loyalty lie, Jason?” His eyes flashed passionately with an intensity you easily met.

Did it still sound like the two of you were about to kiss?

If it had been a movie or one of those steamy romance novels he claimed weren’t his, maybe.

But this?

This was you and Jason Todd.

You pushed first, knowing it wouldn’t move him at all, but it was the thought that counted, “Back the fuck up, Todd .”

“Or what?” His eyes were pure electricity, crackling like heat lightening in the sweetness of the intimate night.

“Or find out what I’m about,” You insisted sharply.

"What you’re about?" He firmly poked you in the forehead with a mocking laugh. Your jaw clenched. “Find out what I’m actually about, babe. I taught you everything you know, dumbass, so go ahead. Try it again and see what happens,” He threatened your last name like a curse.

You smiled widely and humorlessly at the challenge, replicating exactly what Damian had told his family. Any time you would argue or spar, without fail, you’d have a creepy smile adorning your face. It was unnerving and you knew this, but you didn’t care if Jason thought you were psycho when you were already .0005 seconds away from pushing his smug ass into the fountain.

“This is so rich,” You gestured between the two of you. “For once, just once !” You reiterated, “I think I finally understand how you actually feel about me, then we go back to this dumb shit.”

You pushed him harder this time, which he replicated easily with a swift shove back.

Then, you were falling.

You felt the concrete ledge of the fountain hit your calf before you felt the shocking cold of the water as you plunged down into the fountain’s shallow basin. You thought, no knew , that he let you pull him in after you, probably after some guilty conscious thing, or whatever. Probably to protect you from hitting the bruising, stone bottom.

Whatever.

The running water from the fountain, along with the guests out front, were the only noises that stirred across the courtyard when you and Jason resurfaced.

You were both soaked to the bone in the middle of the Wayne Manor Gardens, arguing, poking and pushing at each other while Joker’s goons closed. A low, ominous chuckle reverberated throughout the gardens, though the chilling echo didn’t quite reach either of your ears yet through all the hormonal ruckus and splashing.

Jason pushed you back down into the algae-ridden water each time you tried to get back up, so you returned the favor by kicking the shit out of his ankles in order to get him low enough for you to tackle him back into the water too.

“You wanna fucking play,” He spat out your name in a low rumble. The noise tickled the tips of your ears as he pulled you into a loose headlock, which… felt good?

You stopped kicking up water, trying to place your confused thoughts while an intense blush steadily crept across your damp cheeks.

Jason, sensing your lack of movement, quickly let go, effectively dropping you on your ass in the fountain one final time. You both cursed at the same time and guiltily glanced at each other. It wasn't long before you were both laughing at the stupidity of the whole fight. Hell, the entire situation.

Jason waded closer to your shaking, wet form with a shit-eating grin and put his arm around your neck again, this time lighter.

“I bet you liked that shit.” He chuckled darkly and secured a slightly tighter grip. Feeling his muscled body flush against yours with his heat seeping through the cold wet of your own body, you couldn’t help the choked moan that escaped your rosy lips. “Oh,” He released you in an instant.

You turned around with your finger pointed, ready to start yelling again out of embarrassment when you heard it. A sound shook you to your core.

Goosebumps subconsciously trailed up your body like splintering ice.

You strained to make sense of the maniacal laughter that appeared seemingly out of nowhere, but Jason seemed to sober up fast enough for the both of you. He slipped out of the fountain at a lightning speed that you’d only ever seen him use during training. Before you could process anything, he grabbed you from around your midsection and hoisted you out of the freezing water.

Your dress was long and now extremely heavy as you tried to maneuver around its incapacitating weight to give you the ability to attack if need be, but it seemed to be in vain. He pulled you into as fast of a run as you could manage with your already strained ankles and added weight.

If earlier in the halls was any indication of how this chase would go, you and Jason both knew it would be over quickly.

Your breath came out in strained pants, unable to focus on the twists and turns as Jason guided you through hall after hall. You were definitely slowing him down and the goons were hot on your trail. You could practically hear their high-pitched, hyena-like cackling as if they were directly next to you.

Their presence was like an overbearing shadow that was threatening to envelop you whole.

At the last moment, Jason doubled back to a dumbwaiter shaft to shove you into the opening. He piled the remaining damp fabric of your dress in with you just as a group of burly men came into sight.

Under your weight, the mechanism dropped out from under you, sending you sprawling down until it smacked the ground hard. Upon impact, the cart jostled, sending shockwaves of pain reverberating across every bone in your body. You heard what sounded like struggles from above the shaft where you’d just come from and quickly realized that if they opened the hatch, they'd be able to aim their guns down and shoot at you.

Based on the howling laughing and gaudy face makeup, you deduced that these were most likely Joker’s men and you knew they wouldn’t mess around. Anyone who came into contact with them would most likely be injured and robbed, if not killed.

You gathered your bearings and heavy dress as you gracelessly fell into what you realized instantly to be the manor kitchen. While you’d only been in here a few times, you felt comfortable enough to know you could probably fit in the ground-level cabinets. After seeing how many cabinets there were in the expansive kitchen, you felt pretty secure in your hiding place.

You evened out your breathing, thinking back to what had just happened.

You now had the burden of time, left to wonder if everyone was okay. It was almost a curse to be here and safe while everyone else was still out there in the chaos. Your pitying, however, only lasted minutes before you heard a barrage of footsteps trampling around the marble tile of the kitchen.

It sure didn’t sound like scared party guests.

“How quaint,” You froze at the chilling voice that scratched at your ears. Joker . “I’m absolutely starving someone fetch me something.”

You heard Joker’s goons ripping apart everything in the kitchen and were startled by the banging of cabinets being opened on either side of you. It was only a matter of seconds before you’d be discovered. Your brain was completely shutting down.

“Well, well. What do we have here?” It was a big, bald man who ripped you from your hiding spot, leaving you no time to duck your head. You ended up smacking it against the top of the cabinet as you were aggressively pulled out.

You winced, trying to resort back to your self-defense training, but it was all eluding you as you were pulled tightly against his chest. The man secured both your arms with his own in an unescapable grasp. You were completely immobile, no matter how much you struggled.

“My dear,” Joker’s scarred smile slithered across his grotesque face, leaving you to uselessly pull away from his sudden close proximity. You could only escape so far back, however, before the back of your head hit your captor’s chest, “You’re completely missing the party upstairs! Shall we escort you back? You are, after all, the main event.” You didn’t say anything, attempting to avoid eye contact, but he grabbed your face, squishing your cheeks as he did so to force your eyes to peer into his grizzly, yellowed ones. “It’s so rude to ignore someone. You’re amongst civilized people; best to act like a lady ,” He emphasized it with a swift crack of his jester-looking cane against your calf.

You cried out in agony as he replicated the violent movement with a bout of creepy giggles on your other leg. You quickly lost your balance, completely relying on the man restraining you to keep you standing. You uselessly dangled in his arms as your legs were too weak to support themselves anymore.

“What do we do with her boss?” You felt his chest vibrate with every word.

The goons around you eyed you up animalistcally. How you wished you could pull up your slipping bodice to regain some sense of modesty in front of these heathens, but it wasn't in the cards.

“Were you not listening, idiot?! Take her to the ballroom. Batman should surely be on his way at this point.” He skipped in place. “I love it when a plan comes together!” He glared at the man behind you and hissed. “Why are you not moving, you pillock? TAKE HER- NOW !” He erupted into an abrupt anger that easily silenced all the chuckles in the room.

A heaviness fell across the room as everyone moved in sinister tandem to grapple your injured, sopping form back up to the ballroom. You’d lost sight of the Joker on the way up but quickly found yourself face-to-face with Batman and Robin.

You wanted to laugh.

It'd been your dream to meet the crime-fighting duo for as long as you could remember, but not like this. Not while you were being pushed and pulled around like meat by these goons.

The heroes took you in, ruined makeup and hair, a dress that was barely covering your nipples and your legs that were doing more wobbling than holding you up after Joker's barrage of attacks.

“Let her go.” Batman’s voice was like velvet as it fell unsettlingly across the frenzied room of rich socialites.

Robin, on the other hand, looked absolutely rabid. It was as if he were barely holding himself back from killing the men behind you who stopped pushing you around at the commanding tone. Without their support, you quickly crumpled to the floor like a doll with a gasp of pain that emanated throughout the wooden walls of the ballroom.

Looking deeper into the audience, you saw Jason’s dripping form standing with fists held at his side next to a highly concerned Tim. They noticed your gaze and held it in what was supposed to be comforting, but it only made your stomach churn.

You were in trouble.

Big trouble.

The men snicked at your pathetic form as you scrambled to pull up your bodice over your exposed chest. You hoped Batman’s arrival meant that Joker was going to leave you alone, but you doubted it. You were only safe for the time being, though it was merely borrowed time.

You stared up at Batman’s form fearfully. From this angle, he was just as frightening to you as he was to the men behind you. You tore your eyes from his daunting form, searching around the room for some way to escape, but with your busted legs, you knew you wouldn’t be able to get far.

You were helpless.

“This is between me and Joker.” It was a ruthless growl that had you shrinking back along with the goons behind you.

At the resounding silence, Robin let out a frustrated cry.

“COME OUT AND FACE US, YOU COWARD,” Robin snarled, drawing his sword in an instant. You gazed at it in amazement as he unsheathed the impressive weapon and held it with a certain elegance that couldn’t be portrayed in any of the comic books you’d read.

“Haven’t you ever heard of the little old saying, ‘ be careful what you wish for ?’” Joker drawled as he theatrically circled your form, skipping and hopping once every few steps or so in a jerky, disturbing manner that had you shrinking away. “Oh, no, no, no . That won’t do. You’re the main event, sweetheart!” You shook your head, closing your eyes as he leaned in close enough for you to feel the warmth radiating from his face. You could smell the rancid sourness and gunpowder that emanated from his cackling form. Before you could blink, he battered you with the front, then the back of his hand, forcing your eyes open as he gripped your cheeks in a way that caused your mouth to pout outward comically. “Look at me, look at me ,” He whined in an eerie, childlike voice. “ LOOK AT ME.” Your eyes shot open at the intensity of his voice against his gritted, yellowed teeth, “Good. Good, girl.”

He giggled hauntingly at your terrified form before socking you squarely in the eye. You cried out at the intense blow that had you falling to the floor from sheer force. Once he was satisfied with your pained state, he turned his attention back to Batman.

You knew you probably had a black eye and bruised cheeks already from the hits, but if the vigilante didn't intervene soon, you knew it was about to get so much worse. And fast.

“See, this is good. We’re all here,” He knelt next to you before grabbing your face to haul you back into a kneeling position. You felt like a doll as you allowed him to lead your body where he saw fit. You hated it.

You hated him.

Mostly, you hated yourself for not having the energy to fight back.

He shook your face once more before releasing his clenched grip to stand and walk around whimsically again like he hadn’t just beat the shit out of you. “Celebrating, drinking expensive wine.” He motioned one of the waiters with a tray filled with champagne flutes forward.

They slowly walked toward him as he continued to beckon them obnoxiously. He smirked as worried murmurs settled across the room before grabbing the one closest to the waiter's body with a slow intensity.

You knew Joker was unpredictable, but this? This was just psychotic.

He held up the glass toward Batman in a calm, silent cheer before taking a sip.

You turned your attention back to Robin, who was busy sneaking toward you at the Joker’s brief lapse in attention, but it wasn't enough time. Joker opened his eyes just in time to see Robin nearly reaching you. The psychotic man didn’t hesitate to throw the filled glass of champagne directly at you. Robin was quick to take the hit as he pulled you into his arms and let his back take the brunt of the assault.

He hadn’t spoken since drawing his sword, but you didn’t have time to wonder why.

"You see," Joker’s henchmen were on you in seconds, savagely swinging haymakers Robin’s way to distract him from you. Meanwhile, Batman had also been swarmed as he tried to advance on Joker, only to be clubbed over the head by multiple henchmen wielding baseball bats. “It’s best I get what I want, Batsy . Or do you really just want to see her struggle as much as I do?”

As soon as he finished speaking, he rushed to your struggling form, producing a wicked-looking knife. You immediately stilled in the sea of your captor’s grasps. Multiple men tugged you back and forth, brushing the sockets of your arms as they caused the Joker’s intentional grip on the blade to slide back and forth against the delicate skin on your neck.

Blood steadily seeped from the stinging wound like a curtain of red. You hoped that, if this light cut into your skin had shed this much blood, that he wouldn’t go any deeper.

“Drop her,” Joker said suddenly and the goons obliged. You wailed in pain as you were dropped into the small pool of your blood that had collected onto the floor below you. He pulled you back up by your hair, causing you to wince at the stinging that spread across your scalp as he brought the knife to its point just below the stinging cut you felt on your throat. “That’s better, now. Isn’t it, sweetie?” You gulped and instantly regretted it as the blade sunk into the new spot he'd picked on your neck.

“ANSWER ME,” He tugged your hair again, forcing your head upward to look at him. You winced as you met his crazed eyes through your exhausted, half-lidded ones. His hits had really taken it out of you. That, coupled with the steady blood loss, you could hardly keep your eyes focused. “Pathetic,” He ran the blade up your throat in a swift, searing act of violence, leaving more blood in its path.

You struggled to take in air, though you knew he’d only grazed your skin. If he cut any deeper, you’d be toast.

He yanked your hair backward harshly, startling you from your brief thoughts, as he used the momentum of the motion to send you sprawling to the hardwood floor. Your body landed with a resounding thump as the back of your head made contact with the brutal surface below.

“Inject her,” Joker said monotonously, waving his henchmen on as if he'd become bored with the whole ordeal. You were swooped up again before you could regain your bearings, watching Robin desperately clawing in your direction, but he had too many men on him to allow him to come to your rescue. You were held in a similar fashion you’d been in the kitchen as a goon stepped forward and held out a briefcase. Joker’s giddy form, who danced at the sight. “Oh, goody! I do love a good concoction!” He unlocked the case to produce a bulky syringe filled with toxic-looking green liquid. “Number one outta mean something good, eh, Bats?”

You struggled at your human restraints while simultaneously looking for Jason and Tim in the crowd, but they’d moved from where you’d last seen them. Your stomach sank. Regardless of the gala guests, you felt completely alone in the crowded ballroom.

Your whole chest and bodice were slick and stained from the waterfall of crimson that steadily gushed from your gashes. You tried not to panic and to stay alert, but your head grew fuzzier with each passing moment.

All your injuries were mounting as your original adrenaline from the kitchen had worn thin, if not vanishing entirely. You braced yourself for what was to come next.

A/N: aint no party like a wayne party, right? oof

[next] || masterlist || pinned

#reader x jason todd #damian wayne x reader #reader x roy harper #reader x jason todd x roy harper #my fic: the art of rehabilitating snowbirds #my fic:ars

38 notes · View notes

yellowflowerbub · 1 year

Text

you? card making?

♡ Feb. 13th ♡

♡ Day 4 of 5 ♡

꒷︶ ̇ ̟ ෆ ‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿ ෆ ̟ ̇ ︶꒷

summary. you’re situated at your desk when megumi and his art supplies take a seat in front of you

wordcount. 0.8k+ (kind of unfinished)

pairing(s). megumi x reader

tag(s). newstudent! reader, megumi is a little shit, fluff, card making, flirting, teasing (?)

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The classroom is small. So small you wouldn't have believed it to be one if not for four desks seemingly arbitrary scattered around the dust spotted floor. The rest of the room itself is undecorated; standard pearly white walls partnered with a bare bulletin board were really the only things that occupy the room. No teacher's desk. No chalk board. No individuality from any of the other insanitary rooms in the building.

The full bag of binders and an array of colored led pencils dangle from your shoulder as you sit in the desk furthest from the front of the room. You wish to draw as little attention to yourself as possible. Having a bad reputation in a four student classroom would have you socially exiled from everyone within a mile of the classroom. A seemingly impossible task but do-able enough that you’d avoid it at all costs, even if that meant squinting to see if something was put on the board.

You pull paper from your bag and plant it on your desk, deciding to sketch whatever comes to mind in the margins to pass time after being early to class by a few minutes. Before you can finish any form of art, the classroom door knob rattles and twists forcibly. A boy who you imagine is another student emerges from the now open door and trudges through the frame. He has on a uniform similar to your own, the same deep navy blue long-sleeve shirt with a pair of cream colored buttons to support its quaint collar. To your surprise he sat himself down on the desk in front of you. If not for the desks being diagonal from each other, his messy and near pointy bed head hair would've blocked your view of the bulletin board.

You almost felt a bit offended that he hadn't spoken to you upon his arrival yet you hadn't said anything to him either. You were new, it would’ve been expected of you to announce your presence or greet him first, no matter the severity of the frown he wears. Or how hard he glares.

Curious, your torso falls over the side of your desk, barely enough to catch a glimpse of his collection of school supplies which consists of a few sheets of lined paper, an accordion style folder, and a clear cased, blue ink filled pen. His pen is loud, it scratches the paper rather than drags along it prompting an irritable dry noise. It seems he doesn’t mind as much as you do for his eyes are affixed to the characters he writes along his paper, however he’s definitely noticed you staring.

“What are you doing?” His voice is like silk however the tone in which he speaks is commanding enough to overpower the satiny of his words.

“Sorry,” you were really but he looked doubtful, “I was just wondering.”

With his back still facing yours, he grumbles.

A sigh, "I'm working on cards." Megumi's not sure what internal loose screws made his mouth fix to respond to you but he’d already spit out his answer before he realized he spoke.

Cards? You think.

Right. Valentines day.

A look at the assortment of pre-folded cardstock paper showed a few small doodles hiding by its corner. They look like they'd been drawn by a child no older than eight.

“That’s cute.”

His head whips back to his own creations, in a few quiet deep breaths he utters, “Thank.. you.”

“Who are they for?” You're not sure why but you suddenly yearn for a conversation with him. To intake his soft voice for another moment, even a brief one. He’s alluring in a fashion that makes your heart and thoughts race, his presence makes your cheeks sear, and the passionate and intimate way he rants on about his cards he’ll soon give away is incomparable.

“It’s really sweet that you’re spending so much time making this stuff. Like, the card making in itself is thoughtful but I think it’s admirable to actually try.”

“Are you hitting on me or something?”

“No,” you weren’t entirely sure if you were or not. Maybe your mouth kept running out of desperation but it hadn’t felt that way absolutely, “I just want to give you a compliment on your art and crafts stuff here.”

He scoffs, “This is barely ‘arts and crafts.’”

“Card making is definitely arts and crafts. You’re crafting a card.”

“All I did was fold it.”

Yes but, “That still qualifies as arts and crafts.”

“Take a shot everytime you say crafts.”

You honestly laugh, he’s funny, “You’re funny, y’know.”

“I’ve been told.” You hear the smile in his tone. You wish you could see it.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

a/n: i wasn’t sure how to end this so this is the best i’ve got. Ill be back if i think of something

Feedback and Reblogs Are Appreciated!!

#megumi x reader #jujutsu kaisen megumi #megumi scenarios #megumi x gender neutral reader #megumi x you #megumi x y/n #poc friendly #as usual

27 notes · View notes

aikoiya · 7 months

Text

LoZ: Wild - MOM (Nemma's Attire)

While Nemma's hair color is the typical Sheikah white, her eyes are deep ocean blue from her mother's side of the family, who was half-Deyan. Aside from that, her skin is a healthy tan compared to most other Sheikah of the time, making her resemble more the Impa from SS than the fairer-skinned Sheikah of Wild. She also has red face tattoos under her eyes. They underline her eyes with the outer halves being underlines with upside-down triangles & come with a pair of curved teardrops much like the Royal Family's Secret Stones.

When Nemma first left her village, she cut her hair off at the nape & it has since grown out.

At the beginning of the story, it will be about shoulder length.

It will continue to grow out through the story until it reaches at least ass length, but the ends will always have the straight edge look shown above.

Before her marriage & when out on missions after, it is normally pulled up into a top knot, held in place by Kôgai (Hair Sticks) that can also be used as daggers in a pinch, with her right bang braided into a fishtail.

As it grows longer, so will her braid & once her hair grows long enough to reach her butt, she'll regularly switch styles. Either wearing it as her typical topknot with the braided right bang, in a long braid with the right-side bang left loose, or in a style similar to her husband's, but with her right bang either being braided again or left loose.

Though, she'll keep the hair of her right bang cut to about a couple inches below her chin, really only letting it get a couple inches longer.

Topknots will also be accompanied by similar hair ornaments to what her husband wears as well as her signiture sharpened Kôgai.

And the tattoo on her shoulder is her Dokuso Shokushei mark, which identifies her as a Toxin Mistress.

---

At the beginning of the story, she'll normally wear a white traveling Yukata with red lining & a pattern of simple, red Sanke Carp swimming across it & her Kamon (family crest; a trio of Cool Safflina, a.k.a. Blacksmith Lupin flowers) in white on the back inside a red circle & a brown leather Obi cinching the Yukata closed, the symbol of the Mind's Eye imprinted into the leather or a simple navy Obi with a simple Mind's Eye.

Like this:

Or this:

The belts are from someone else's art, but I'm really just using them as an example of what I mean.

She'll often wear a woven, straw Sugegasa hat atop her head when traveling, replacing it with a Kāten Sugegasa in the desert, & a pair of practical Kitatami Setta, which are woven from rice straw, over Tabi socks on her feet.

This is what Kitatami Setta look like:

She'll switch out her Setta for Taka-Ashida Geta, which have high supports, when it rains or is otherwise poor weather.

Which look like this:

And Jika-Tabi, or Tabi boots, when she has to do hard work outside. Specifically, when she's on a job.

Example:

For the Kāten Sugegasa, it's basically a straw conehat with a sheer curtain attached to the rim that encircles the head.

@haaam-bugi made me this really amazing art! WITHOUT ME ASKING!! :D

(All I did was add the fish pattern on the yukata & adjust the tattoo on her shoulder so that you could see it in more detail. Otherwise, everything else is their work. I also asked permission if I could do this & they said yes. All she's missing are the Setta! X3 Though, her skintone isn't quite right. She's supposed to be more tanned. More like Impa from Skyward Sword or Hyrule Warriors.)

But when on a mission, she'll generally wear something not altogether different from what HW Impa wears (but less aqua & more navy), though without the odd Sheikah bikini top thing. Just give the Haori another strap. Plus, with a traditional Fukumen, a.k.a. a close-fitting mask that only covers the neck & lower half of the face. Also, it's held together by the same leather Obi that she wears over her Yukata.

However, underneath her suit, she has cloth that wraps around her breasts & reaches down to her stomach to form a Haramaki in order to improve her core strength. She wraps her chest relatively loosely in order to make her bust more manageable. Nemma's pretty busty, so they get in the way of her swings. Binding them somewhat helps to make it easier to fight.

She actually has a similar figure to Istina from Harvestella.

She also takes very good care of her nails & tends to wear a special, reinforced nail polish that she makes herself from the hooves of the Lynels she kills. This polish allows her to be able to reliably use her nails as a viable weapon in a pinch. Though, she prefers not to get blood under them. She tends to switch between the colors red, blue, & clear. Polish made from Lynel Hooves actually have a particular sheen to them that's easy to identify, which is why the Sheikah wear this polish partially as an intimidation tactic.

Also with climbing boots & climbing gloves with Han Kote (半籠手, Armored Sleeve or Gauntlet). One Han Kote (the left one) being a traditional Sheikah Jōhyō Han Kote (縄鏢半籠手, Chained Kunai Gauntlet), which she uses either as a weapon or for traversing terrain.

Think of the rope dart modification made to the Hidden Blade that Arbaaz Mir used in Assassin's Creed Chronicles: India.

Nemma's other Han Kote has a spring-loaded climbing hook hidden inside, which makes getting around much easier & can also double as a Tekkō-Kagi (手甲鉤) or hand sickle. Basically being the Hookblade from Assassin's Creed.

Once she begins to learn hand-to-hand, she'll build Tekkō (鉄甲, Knuckle Dusters) into her Kote. Though, they will be more akin to metal studs welded into the knuckles.

She'll also add Kakushi Ashiha (隠し足刃) to her Jika-Tabi, which are essentially the Hidden Footblades from Assassin's Creed as used by the Assassin, Shao Jun.

(There's just a lot of Assassin's Creed influence in her design, okay?)

Either way, all this will essentially turn her into a living weapon.

---

Anyway, Nemma's wedding attire would look something like this:

But silver instead of gold & featuring Gerudo-style orchid patterns. Also, the head veil rests over the head. Plus a few extra things that I'll explain in a minute. (Also, not my art. I do not claim it as such.)

This is sort of the orchid pattern that I was thinking of:

There, of course, would be variation. But this would be the main pattern used.

This dress, in Gerudo, is called a Màtu'kàvtéda Shàree or a wedding saree in real life. And the aqua sash that drapes over the shoulder is a Màtu'kàvtéda Bàndaràshï.

But, add on the head veil that commonly goes with a royal Moroccan Dubai wedding Kaftan in the same shade of blue as the dress. I'm calling the head veil a Màlàki Kopfab.

Except, here, it's supposed to be so long that it trails along behind the wearer the same way a wedding train does & is the same shade of blue as the Shàree above.

And add on what, in real life, is an Arabic harem face veil. This one is aqua & is called an Màtu'kàvtéda Hunfàm. This veil is meant to be worn by the bride the entire week before the wedding & only to be removed by the groom the moment before the sealing kiss. It originates from a superstition that says the bride being seen directly by anyone before the wedding will bring about a disaster within the marriage. In order to prevent the disaster, all but the groom must close their eyes or shield their vision so that the first one to see the bride as the groom's new wife is the groom himself. Doing this is said to bring about good fortune in their marriage as well as, purportedly, improving the chances of a child in the future.

It isn't true, but it's tradition by now.

It's held in place by a pair of hooks that curve around the ears so it's easy for the groom to remove.

Like this one:

Also keep in mind that all the embroidery & patterns for all these articles of clothing are designed with Gerudàn patterns instead of the patchwork mix of various Middle & South Eastern styles that is actually featured here. She'll especially like the design of the lotus-like one & other floral designs. For her wedding Shàree, she specifically requested for the patterning to be inspired by Sweetheart Orchids specifically, which is a Sheikah tradition as they symbolize a happy couple, love, abundance, sexuality, & vivifatility (both verility & fertility). She likewise requested that Ganon's clothes also feature them. To which, he acquiesced as he was rather fond of the flower seeing as she proposed to him with Sweetheart Orchid petals.

She also wears a pair of silver orchid earrings with mother of pearl petals that she made just for that day. As well as a golden pendant featuring her Kamon (family crest) which is 3 Cool Safflina.

Nemma will wear a traditional, pale Sweetheart Orchid foundation covering her face. Though, not so much so that she appears snow white, just enough to pale her skin slightly & make her appear made of porcelin. With pink, almond set style eyeshadow & layered over that, the edges of her eyelids are painted red in a hooded or close set style (see some geisha eye makeup) with a hard edge.

The outside of her eyes have sparkling silver dots or circles of eyeliner that orbit around her eyes to create crescents. At the same time, she will also wear thick, Egyptian-like sliver eyeliner. This metallic, silver eyeliner is made from Moonblooming Arguses (they grow from Voltfruit Cacti, but only bloom at night). Which, this eyeliner is a sign of status in Gerudo culture & the silver color is an indication of the fact that she is marrying into the Royal House of Drāgamīr.

Here's how her makeup will look during the wedding:

Her hair is also pulled into a low, complicated bun decorated with a lovely, delicate-looking, floral, Sheikah bridal hairpiece called a Shinpu Kanzashi (新婦簪, Bride Hair Ornament; inspired by Hanfu Ji or Chinese Bridal Hair Ornaments), featuring Sweetheart Orchids & Cool Safflinas. These are mostly Sheikah traditions. This particular Bridal Ornament was actually made by her grandfather for her grandmother, which she wore when they got married.

Nemma isn't normally the unreasonable type, but this was one of the few things she had to put her foot down on.

Her hair is also woven with silver threads as per the Gerudo tradition.

Anyway, the day after the wedding, Nemma is coronated & given her Vàtta'jï Tàj or Queen's Tiara.

It looks like this:

The oar-like protrusions that are from the chief's headpiece, go down & to the sides. And, instead of the ovular piece that sticks up from the top, that is replaced with a similar halo-like part to what TP & HW Ganondorf wears. The overall design is just much less complicated than the Chieftain Hairpiece.

I also modeled the marking on the coin-like object in the second one in a way reminiscent of the original design for the Mirror Shield in OoT before people complained.

Still a little bit of work to be done.

Anyway, all of this, except instead of gold, Nemma's attire uses silver or platinum.

Finally, after the wedding, in accordance with Sheikah tradition, both she & Ganon with have red dots tattooed between their brows. Within these dots with be hidden the swirl of each other's fingerprints.

---

One of the important parts of the wedding is something adapted from Sheikah culture, where the bride & groom dip 2 fingers into a bowl of red ink, then press the pads of their fingers to their other half's forehead. Upon the brow, right between & above the eyes. After the wedding, they go to another room to have a Sheikah tattoo artist that they'd hired for the occasion. She will tattoo the dot into their skin in such a way that, if one looks closely, you can see the impression of their new spouse's prints in red.

This becomes a permanent part of their design for the rest of the story.

---

Now for an explanation of the clothing words I used above.

Let's start off with Nemma's formal attire as queen would typically be a dark blue Shàree & Kopfab with a silver, opal, & moonstone Vàtta'jï Tàj featuring a crescent moon at the center of it & Voltfruit blossoms surrounding it, beneath the Kopfab.

A Shàree is a dress inspired by a saree, which is a Hindu dress. It generally features vibrant colors & is ankle-length. Featuring pretty patterns in gold or silver embroidery, & is made of light & airy fabric. They tend to have short sleeves & also comes with a sash, here called a Bàndaràshï, & a wide, gold or silver fabric girdle called an Àrïqna here with Gerudo emroidery. This'll be her preferred outfit to wear formally as it isn't difficult to move in. Màtu'kàvtéda Shàree, or Wedding Saree, are not much different from regular Shàree, except that the skirt reaches the floor & it's much more finely made.

A Kopfab is an opaque, colorful hooded veil made of silk with a golden or silvery-patterned embroidered border at the hem that sits perfectly upon the head without covering the face & reaches somewhere between hip & floor. The Kopfab being the traditional headdress of a Gerudo Queen. However, civilian Gerudo are allowed to wear one on their wedding days. When worn with a Shàree, it needs to be the same color as the Shàree itself, which I'll get into in a bit. Màtu'kàvtéda Kopfab are different mostly in how high quality the materials are to make them & the fact that they are long enough to trail along the floor behind the bride. Only queens & women marrying kings are allowed to wear them.

A Bàndaràshï is a strip of fabric that acts like a sash & is typically draped over one shoulder & circles around the opposite hip. Typically a different color to the Shàree to give variation. They often have gold or silver patterned borders. Non-wedding Bàndaràshï leave both arms free, unlike Màtu'kàvtéda Bàndaràshï, which are usually very long & hang over an arm to trail down to the floor.

A Màtu'kàvtéda Hunfàm is a sheer face veil much like that of an Arabic harem girl's in real life. However, in Gerudo culture, as mentioned above, this veil is supposed to be worn the entire week before the Vai's wedding day. There are, of course, exceptions for when eating & in one's room, which is where the bride is supposed to eat until the wedding.

When worn by a soon-to-be queen, the Hunfàm & Bàndaràshï are both supposed to match & be a different, yet complementary color to the Kopfab & Shàree.

As for a Vàtta'jï Tàj, it is a tiara or circlet of Gerudo make, often featuring Voltfruit blossoms & other desert iconography in its design. Worn only by queens & is fundamentally different from the complicated headpiece that a chief wears. Often made of silver or, in rare cases, platinum.

The Vàtta'jï Tàj & Kopfab are supposed to have hooks so that the Kopfab can be fastened to the Vàtta'jï Tàj & you don't have to worry about the Kopfab falling off.

Nemma wears a Shàree because she isn't a Gerudo & thus isn't as adapted to the desert as them. As a result, she requires proper covering to survive the sun in the day without severe sunburns. Though, it's extremely likely that her tan will darken over time due to living there which will make things easier.

However, due to her specific circumstances, her regular Kopfab & Shàree are both made of very high quality Bighorn Sheep wool (the Hyrule equivalent to Merino wool) rather than silk. As silk is not as good at temperature regulation the way wool is.

She, does, of course, wear the silk versions when it's important to make a good impression.

Something like this for the Shàree:

But with a wide, gold or silver Àrïqna.

There, of course, would be other formal dresses available with lots of different patterns, but for now, let's just use this one as a placeholder.

One such dress would be this:

Which, here, is called a Kafchïta, a dress of a different style. In real life, it's called a Kaftan.

When at a formal setting, such as royal functions where she needs to make a good impression, she'd wear Streshibpen. Which are Gerudo-style heeled slippers with wing-like protrusions. Basically, what a lot of the Gerudo wear in BotW. Otherwise, even when dressed as a queen in the palace, she'd largely wear sandals as they're much less prone to slippage on sand.

Nemma would have difficulty learning how to walk in Streshibpen as she prefers sensible & practical shoes, but as it'd be one of the formal dress expectations of her, she'd endeavor to learn.

Though, she'd require that the heels have blades in them & steel toes.

If she has to wear these torture devices, she's gonna weaponize them, damnit!

And, the patterns she'll mostly feature will be the sort of lotus-like Gerudo designs with many of them coming in some variety & combination of blue, aqua, green, navy, & even a smattering of pink, white, & purple.

---

Now, these generally aren't things she'd wear normally as they are more formal in nature.

For one, rather than wear her crown & Kopfab everywhere, she'd instead tend to wear her hair in her typical topknot, held in place by a silver or platinum Ebè'túijïl or hair crown, which is what I call the hair ornament that Ganondorf wears in TotK. However, she'll still wear her Kogai with sharpened, metal tips.

As for clothes, she'd have a Xularàz'ùl Thōbora for Vaien, which is basically an embroidered women's thoub. Mainly blue & silver or blue & white with a few other colors for accents, with slit bell sleeves.

As for shoes, she's more inclined to wear Shibpin, which are the flats with pointed toes from the Gerudo Vai & Desert Voe sets.

She'll also always be wearing a simple pair of earrings, one of which featuring a Gossip Stone after a certain point in the story.

—

Anyway, when out in the desert, she, of course, wears a Sheikah stealth suit, specifically modified to better survive in the desert. It's made of Bighorn Sheep wool & dyed white to reflect the sun & blend in with the environment. Though it still features the Sheikah eye, it also has the cobra hood symbol of the Gerudo as well. Add to that her climbing gloves, a Burnùs, & Gàlkhutwàïr Adhien & she's ready to survive. The boots having extra grip specially added to the soles to help with climbing.

A Burnùs being a white or beige hooded cloak with a split in the front that keeps the sun off you. And Gàlkhutwàïr Adhien, also known as Sandstrider Boots (basically just the Sand Boots), are boots made of sand seal leather with soles of Molduga hide, specifically designed to displace a person's weight evenly, thus allowing the wearer's feet to keep from sinking into the sand. She also continues to wear a traditional Sheikah Fukumen mask rather than opting for a Gerudo Shemàgh, though she goes with white here to go with the rest & this one is made of summer weight wool from Bighorn Sheep to help keep her cool in the day.

So, something of an Assassin's Creed look.

---

She would still, of course, wear traditional Sheikah attire, but she is now generally expected to put herself forth as a queen.

Such things include sleeping yukata for going to bed.

---

Also keep in mind that Nemma always has weapons on her. She is just not comfortable without a weapon on hand.

It may be overt or covert, but she always has something on her to defend herself.

---

Nemma is from a story prompt of mine called Meeting One's Match.

LoZ My Fanfic Masterlist

#loz #legend of zelda #ganondorf x oc #fem!oc #sheikah oc #aikoiya oc #fashion #meeting one's match

8 notes · View notes