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xxx-wounded-angel-xxx · 8 months

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Tear you appart - Felix Volturi x reader

Felix Volturi x fem! reader - contains smut

3456 words

content warning : swearing, darker and wilder than my usual Felix, possessive Felix, size difference (both him and reader like it) - Smut ahead ! please no judgment, this is the first time I'm writing some I tried my best I feel so embarrassed 😅 Stop at the divider if you don't want the smutty part that contains : dirty talk, voice kink, size kink, penetration, virgin reader (she's an adult in her 20's !), praise kink

Taglist : @agirllovespancakes <3

At first, you weren’t sure what to make of your mate. First, Felix was big. Like…two meters tall and really muscular. Like wow. And second, he… was busy. Like very busy, which you could comprehend since he was one of the highest ranked guards of the Volturi Coven. And the executioner… that's it you had said it. His job was to brutally kill people, and you did not fully know what to make of him because of that.

He was kind to you of course. But you could barely see him. He had a very important place in the coven after all, it would be mean to hold it against him, he couldn’t help it after all. But it was making it harder for you to understand him, how could you get to know him better if he wasn’t there with you?

Ever since you were staying with the Volturi after finding out that you were Felix’s soulmate, your existence had gotten kind of lonely. The current secretary would go shopping with you if you needed something but you were mostly staying in your quarters that were adjacent to Felix’s. So, you decided to spend the time by decorating as much as you could your quarters to your own taste.

As a goth, you took advantage of the Halloween season to buy home decor. Artificial black roses, deep red and purple ones, black lace curtains, gothic prints you paired with vintage looking frames Heidi found for you in an abandoned room… You kept the walls white but painted the furniture black. Lots of bookshelves were acquired to hold your book collection, CDs and DVDs, Felix had made sure you had a good TV and even better stereo when you said you basically lived with music. Anne Stokes and Victoria Frances’ art hung all over your walls, nemesis now dark fairy figures and cult cuties shelved neatly above your desk, nightmare before Christmas plushies and figures scattered all around your quarters with the occasional Hello Kitty and Kuromi: it was starting to look like home.

When December came by you bought red velvet curtains, and red crystal beads. A lot of them. Surprisingly, you were now finding every week rose bouquet, that you would put to dry and keep in elegant vases. You were sure they were from Felix, even if he never mentioned it the few times the two of you had met in November.

You were working on the canopy of the bed, after installing the black lace curtains and strings of white pearls that were easy to find as Christmas tree ornament, you were making garlands of red crystal beads that would reflect the light all around your bed canopy. Attaching bead after bead, you were disrupted by Felix. You looked at him, surprised as you saw him sit beside you on the black silk sheets of your bed.

“Good evening my darling mate”

This evening, you finally got to spend time with your mate. He apologized for his lack of presence beside you, the coven had been exceptionally busy and he had not been able to give you the time you deserved. But now, he was here, and could finally take care of you, his mate, properly.

You talked for hours that night, She Wants Revenge playing low in the background as you finally got to know each other.

But no matter how interesting this all was, you were getting tired. Felix noticed your yawn, and with a smile put you to bed, tucking you in and gently kissed your forehead goodnight.

Your Felix held his promise. Week after week you got to know the other better. Going from strangers to friends… to more. After a few months you realized that Felix wasn’t a friend anymore. No, he was more. You wanted him to be more. But it wasn’t easy. He was your soulmate! It was supposed to be easy! But it wasn’t. At all.

Spring came and left, and so did summer. It was the middle of autumn, and you still did not know how to tell your soulmate you liked him. How could you? How could a simple human compare to a vampire? He had not turned you yet, it seemed that he quite enjoyed your human habits for now. Maybe he liked your softness, the warmth of your skin or the color of your eyes? But that did not resolve your problem. How could you tell him when you had never done this before? You were in your twenties and not had your fist kiss yet!

You had started a diary to keep your memories, express your feelings and your thoughts. And the most recent entries were all about him. About Felix, the gleam in his eyes, the way his skin shone brightly under the sunlight, how hot you had found the glimpses of his toned and muscular body you had been able to see, the way his thunderous laugh made your heart smile… How… You love him. That’s it, you had admitted it fully: you loved him. It was written black on white in your diary. Your heart was in his hands. You did not need a prayer when you had his name.

That was the last line you wrote, leaving your diary on your bed as you left your bedroom to take a relaxing bath before going to bed in your favorite attire.

You came out of the bathroom, all clean and fresh, humming some She Wants Revenge song, when you froze. Felix. Felix was sitting on your bed. Felix was sitting on your bed holding your diary. Felix was reading your diary where you very explicitly wrote how much you loved him. Fuck.

When Felix looked at you, you felt like you could die from embarrassment. You tried to leave, but in the blink of an eye you found yourself your back against a wall, Felix’s body pressed against yours preventing you from running away. Anyway, where would you have gone? This was your room, for fuck’s sake! You shivered as he used his big hand to raise your head so he could look you in the eyes.

“You meant it?”

“What”

“What you wrote in your diary about me. You mean it?”

You had never seen Felix that serious before, his husky voice had lost all humor.

“It… It is… Yes, it is true. I … I really mean it.”

You blurted out the last words, anxious. What if it wasn’t what he wanted to hear? What if he hated you now? What if… Wait, why was he smiling?

“You have no idea how long I’ve longed for this. May I?”

You nodded, not sure what he was asking for. He cupped your cheek, and to your surprise he kissed you. You closed your eyes.

It was better than what you had read in your books, much better. His lips were soft against yours, his kiss tender but quite possessive at the same time. You returned it, quite clumsily due to your inexperience, but still with enthusiasm. He was the one to break it so you could breathe again. You were only human after all. Your body needed it.

“Damn, that was…”

He laughed at your reaction.

“Can you do it again?”

Smirking, he eagerly accepted your request.

Later, when you were too tired to stay awake, Felix accepted to stay under the covers and hold you. The feeling of his strong and much bigger body wrapped around your much smaller frame brought unholy thoughts to your mind, that you quickly shook away, but it still let you the time to show slight embarrassment. You thought for a moment that Felix would take advantage of it, but he didn’t, only kissing the top of your head and bringing you closer to his body.

“Does that mean that we are together now?” “You could say that dolcezza.” “So you’re my boyfriend?” “Absolutely not. I’m your mate. If you want a more human term, just say that I’m your husband.”

You looked at him, shocked, and that little shit that was your mate had the biggest grin you’d ever seen.

“I… I think mate is an appropriate term.” “As you wish.”

Your heart was beating so fast he couldn’t not hear it, and his bright smile was the confirmation. Luckily for you, Felix had decided to go easy on you for tonight. But you feared what his teasing would be like…

You fell asleep with these thoughts in mind, Felix’s arms holding you tight against him. “Buonanotte tesoro mio, ti amo…”

When you woke up the next day, Felix was still here, holding you.

“Hi” “Hi. Slept well?” “Yes” “Good”

Bringing you closer to him, Felix buried his face in your neck. You froze as it felt like he was smelling you, and he left a kiss where he could feel your pulse. Being this close to him felt nice, really nice. He smelled good, too. Something musky, homey.

“Are you sniffing me?” “You did a few moments ago” “Touché.” A pause. “So?” “You smell nice. Like home.” “Ah, that’s a mate thing, you know? I smell good like that to you only.” “And me? What do I smell like?” “The tastiest thing I’ve ever met.” “Felix!” “What?! You should take this as a compliment! You smell delicious!”

He had that cocky look that looked so good on him. You couldn't wait to spend forever with him.

It was near Christmas now. More than one year since you met Felix, a few months since you realized you loved him, and a few weeks since the two of you were fully mated. Well fully… There was something the two of you had not done yet. It was… sex. For fuck’s sake, you were an adult, you could say the word sex! But… that did not erase the fact that you had basically no experience in dating. Felix was your first kiss… and would be your first lover. The thing was that he was not aware of it. How could you tell him! This man was cocky enough, if you told him, it would sign you way to a never-ending teasing! Fuck. Wait, that was the point! This man – or vampire – was going to be the death of you.

Your thoughts were a complete mess. You were sure than even Aro couldn’t understand a single shit if he were to read your mind. Which was why it was a good thing that he hadn’t asked for a while. But maybe it could actually help? Wait no! You couldn’t let him know you were desperately trying to get in the pants of his executioner. All of it was driving you crazy.

You tried to keep up with appearances with Felix, behaving as normal as you could with him, but you couldn’t help but let some touches linger more than necessary, brush against him every time you were close with him, dragging the kisses as long as you could without accidentally killing yourself from the lack of oxygen… All of it you thought Felix didn’t notice. But that was forgetting something: your mate was very much a predator. And as a human, you were very much prey for him, even as his mate.

Your heartbeat running faster when he was close, the way his low voice would send shivers down your spine, or how some kisses and touches could get you clenching your thighs… Felix noticed everything, and your asshole of a mate was reveling in it, your love like the thrill of the hunt. He took great pleasure in it, day after day, trying to drive you crazy until you would be your back against a wall, forced to tell him exactly what you wanted. And he would make sure you beg for it, dragging the thrill of the hunt as long as he could. But lucky for you, he loved you more than it. He would try to not make you beg, not too much at least.

Your Felix had become great at reading you, your expressions, your desires. And being as old as he was, it had not been hard for him to put two and two together: the way you returned his affection, always eager but also quite clumsily, always holding back afraid of going too far or doing wrong… That darker, possessive side off him was extremely satisfied of it, no one had touched you like that before, no one but him, you were forever his.

After a few weeks, your struggles were not funny anymore, he wanted you to feel desired, to not see your inexperience as a bad thing. You were so damn beautiful and desirable; he would show you how much he wanted you.

He would be off duty for the next few days, it was perfect. The next time he would get in your bed, you would not be sleeping for a good while.

For the past few days, it seemed like Felix was toying with you, always managing to get you where and how he wanted. He was slowly taking you out of your comfort zone, it was like he had something in mind as he would hold you close, soft breath in the crook of your neck sending shivers down your spine. He would let you back up if you were too uncomfortable, of course, but the bastard knew what he was doing, always taking you further and further of your comfort zone without crossing your boundaries, teaching you a few things about you in the meantime. Damn, did you always have that size and voice kink or was it of his doing? Fuck, you had no idea but did not care much, it was too good for the reasons why to matter anymore.

All of this led you to that very moment, your Felix towering over you, your back against the wall of your room. Voice low, whispering in your ear, driving you crazy.

“Aren’t you pretty like that, all flustered? Your blood smell so good I might just eat you…”

Of course, this led you to grow even more flustered, your blood rushing and tempting him even more. He took another step, and lowered his head even more, leaving cold kisses on your neck, his cool breath driving you crazy. You move your head to give him a better access, and let out a soft moan as his teeth scrap your neck.

“You like that don’t you? To be all helpless as soon as I touch you. My beautiful darling…”

He lifts you, claiming your lips and you can’t help but wrap your legs around his waist. He bites your lower lip, and you let out a soft gasp, your Felix taking advantage of it, his tongue meeting yours to explore your mouth. After a while the two of you part, soft panting can be heard from you. At this moment, you realize you left your stereo on, and as your notice what song is playing you send to hell every hesitation and kiss him passionately.

“I want to hold you close, skin pressed against me tight

Lie still, close your eyes, girl, so lovely, it feels so right

I want to hold you close, soft breast, beating heart

As I whisper in your ear, "I wanna fucking tear you apart"

It drives the both of you crazy, leaving you only wanting more, more than everything you had already done. So when Felix carries you to the bed, you continue to kiss him. When he lays you on the bed, climbing on top of you, you drag him close and deepen the kiss. When he takes off your shirt, you unbutton his, hands roaming everywhere on the other’s body in a frenzy haze, kisses left everywhere.

“I want you” you pause. “No, I need you.” You let out a moan as he rips your bra and leave kisses on your breast, a smile oh so smug brightening his face as he finds your sensitive spot. You writhe underneath him, clenching your thighs together, left wanting more, needing more of him.

“Felix…” His name leaves your mouth as a soft moan, and he can’t help but chuckle at your neediness, he’s finally got you where he wants you to be, he’s going to drag on this teasing as much as he can.

“That’s my name darling, say it again…”

He’s so smug but you can’t help but do as he say, especially when his pants and yours disappear, and his hand slip in your silky panties. As he brushes against your clit, you can’t help but buckle your hips, trying to get more friction where you need him the most.

“Eager, aren’t we?” Always that smug expression, he knows he is driving you crazy and he revels in it: you’re his and he is the only one able to get these reactions from you. He leans over you, pressing his body against yours, claiming your lips once again. You whimper as you can feel his hard bulge against you, increasing your arousal to an extent you didn’t know was possible. But you weren’t the only one left craving for more.

“Please Felix…” “I need you to use your words tesorina. Tell me, what you want?” “You. I want you I need you!” “So greedy my darling… Is that what you want?”

You can’t answer him as he rips your panties, throwing away what’s left of them before making his own underwear meet the same fate. He’s bigger than you anticipated, yet the only thing you can focus on is how much you want him inside of you.

Not breaking eye contact with you, he strokes his penis a few times, making sure it’s slick with his precum and your arousal, and get on top of you, teasing your wet folds with his hard length.

“Are you sure you want this?” He looks at you with such seriousness, trying to read your face and be sure this is what you want, that he’s not going further than you’re comfortable with. “Yes Felix please” “You only have one word to say and I’ll stop if it’s too much for you”

You nod, and satisfied with your approval Felix thrust into you. You moan at the feeling; you feel so full of him. You expected it to hurt, being your first time, but it doesn’t, your love prepared you enough.

“That’s what you want, isn’t it my darling? My cock filling you up, bringing you more pleasure than you’ve ever had.”

You can only whine and moan, too lost in the pleasure you’re experiencing for the first time. Felix eats up every of your reactions, satisfied that only him get to make you feel this good.

“You’re so responsive to my touch” Felix praises you, and his words do something to you you weren’t aware of it being possible. Something good. Really good. Felix, attentive to all of your reactions, notice and whispers sweet praises in your ear, driving you wild. He thrusts faster, eliciting more moans from you. It feels so good, you can only focus on him and the pleasure he gives you, moaning his name.

“I love hearing you cry out my name, tesoro. It’s music to my ears.”

He finally finds an especially sensitive spot of yours, hitting it relentlessly, eliciting moan after moan from you. He growls in pleasure, getting you closer and closer. You feel something ready to snap inside of you.

“Please Felix I’m close so close!” “That’s it darling, come for me.” He kisses your shoulder. “Come for me, let me feel how much you love me. I’ll be right behind you, filling you with everything I have.”

The pad of this finger brushes against your clit, and with his dirty words it’s enough to make you snap, riding the first climax of your life. Your Felix follows quickly, his cool cum filling your cunt as he moans your name, “you’re mine all mine my [Y/N] forever mine never letting you go my sweet and beautiful [Y/N]”

You fall back on the bed, trembling with pleasure and exhaustion. Sliding out of you, Felix admires for a moment your mixed release dripping down your inner thighs, before laying down beside you and holding you close, whispering sweet praises in your ear. He kisses your forehead tenderly, and you snuggle closer to him.

“I love you” “I love you too tesorina”

Exhausted, you fall asleep, safe and spent in your mate’s arms, Felix never letting you go for a second, holding you tight against him the whole time. This is what eternity should feel like, and he will make sure it always is that way for you.

#volturi #felix volturi #felix volturi x reader #fem reader

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jennamoran · 8 months

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The Far Roofs: Systems

Hi!

Today I’m going to talk a little bit more about my forthcoming RPG, the Far Roofs. More specifically, I want to give a general overview of its game mechanics!

So the idea that first started the Far Roofs on the road to being its own game came out of me thinking a lot about what large projects feel like.

I was in one of those moods where I felt like the important thing in an RPG system was the parallel between that system and real-world experience. Where I felt like the key to art was always thinking about the end goal, or at least a local goal, as one did the work; and, the key to design was symmetry between the goals and methods, the means and ends.

I don't always feel that way, but it's how I work when I'm feeling both ambitious and technical.

So what I wanted to do was come up with an RPG mechanic that was really like the thing it was simulating:

Finding answers. Solving problems. Doing big things.

And it struck me that what that felt like, really, was a bit like ...

You get pieces over time. You wiggle them around. You try to fit them together. Sometimes, they fit together into larger pieces and then eventually a whole. Sometimes you just collect them and wiggle them around until suddenly there's an insight, an oh!, and you now know everything works.

The ideal thing to do here would probably be having a bag of widgets that can fit together in different ways---not as universally as Legos or whatever, but, like, gears and connectors and springs and motors and whatever. If I were going to be building a computer game I would probably think along those lines, anyway. You'd go to your screen of bits and bobs and move them around with your mouse until it hooked together into something that you liked.

... that's not really feasible for a tabletop RPG, though, at least, not with my typical financial resources. I could probably swing making that kind of thing, finding a 3d printing or woodworking partner or something to make the pieces, for the final kickstarter, but I don't have the resources to make a bunch of different physical object sets over time while I'm playtesting.

So the way I decided that I could implement this was by drawing letter tiles.

That I could do a system where you'd draw letter tiles ... not constantly, not specifically when you were working, but over time; in the moments, most of all, that could give you insight or progress.

Then, at some point, you'd have enough of them.

You'd see a word.

That word'd be your answer.

... not necessarily the word itself, but, like, what the word means to you and what the answer means to you, those would be the same.

The word would be a symbol for the answer that you've found, as a player and a character.

(The leftover letters would then stick around in your hand, bits of thought and experience that didn't directly lead to a solution there, but might help with something else later on.)

Anyway, I figured that this basic idea was feasible because, like, lots of people own Scrabble sets. Even if you don't, they're easier to find than sets of dice!

For a short indie game focused on just that this would probably have been enough of a mechanic all on its own. For a large release, though, the game needed more.

After thinking about it I decided that what it wanted was two more core resolution systems:

One, for stuff like, say ... kickstarter results ... where you're more interested in "how well did this do?" or "how good of an answer is this?" than in whether those results better fit AXLOTL or TEXTUAL. For this, I added cards, which you draw like letter tiles and combine into poker hands. A face card is probably enough for a baseline success, a pair of Kings would make the results rather exciting, and a royal flush result would smash records.

The other core system was for like ... everyday stuff. For starting a campfire or jumping a gap. That, by established RPG tradition, would use dice.

...

I guess technically it didn't have to; I mean, like, most of my games have been diceless, and in fact we've gotten to a point in the hobby where that's just "sort of unusual" instead of actually rare.

But, like, I like dice. I do. If I don't use them often, it's because I don't like the empty page of where to start in the first place building a bespoke diced system when I have so many good diceless systems right there.

... this time, though, I decided to just go for it.

The Dice System

So a long, long time ago I was working on a game called the Weapons of the Gods RPG. Eos Press had brought me in to do the setting, and somewhere in the middle of that endeavor, the game lost its system.

I only ever heard Eos' side of this, and these days I tend to take Eos' claims with a grain of salt ... but, my best guess is that all this stuff did happen, just, with a little more context that I don't and might not ever know?

Anyway, as best as I remember, the first writer they had doing their system quit midway through development. So they brought in a newer team to do the system, and halfway through that the team decided they'd have more fun using the system for their own game, and instead wrote up a quick alternate system for Weapons of the Gods to use.

This would have been fine if the alternate system were any good, but it was ... pretty obviously a quick kludge. It was ...

I think the best word for it would be "bad."

I don't even like the system they took away to be their own game, but at least I could believe that it was constructed with love. It was janky but like in a heartfelt way.

The replacement system was more the kind of thing where if you stepped in it you'd need a new pair of shoes.

It upset me.

It upset me, and so, full wroth, I decided to write a system to use for the game.

Now, I'd never done a diced system before at that point. My only solo game had been Nobilis. So I took a bunch of dice and started rolling them, to see ... like ... what the most fun way of reading them was.

Where I landed, ultimately, was looking for matches.

The core system for Weapons of the Gods was basically, roll some number of d10s, and if you got 3 4s, that was a 34. If you got 2 9s, that was a 29. If your best die was a 7 and you had no pairs at all, you got 1 7. 17.

It didn't have any really amazing statistical properties, but the act of rolling was fun. It was rhythmic, you know, you'd see 3 4s and putting them together into 34 was a tiny tiny dopamine shot at the cost of basically zero brain effort. It was pattern recognition, which the brain tends to enjoy.

I mean, obviously, it would pall in a few minutes if you just sat there rolling the dice for no reason ... but, as far as dice rolling goes, it was fun.

So when I went to do an optional diced system for the Chuubo's Marvelous Wish-Granting Engine RPG, years later, to post here on tumblr ... I already knew what would make that roll fun. That is, rolling a handful of dice and looking for matches.

What about making it even more fun?

... well, critical results are fun, so what about adding them and aiming to have a lot of them, though still like rare enough to surprise?

It made sense to me to call no matches at all a critical failure, and a triple a critical success. So I started fiddling with dice pool size to get the numbers where I wanted them.

I'm reconstructing a bit at this point, but I imagine that I hit 6d10 and was like: "these are roughly the right odds, but this is one too many dice to look at quickly on the table, and I don't like that critical failure would be a bit more common than crit success."

So after some wrestling with things I wound up with a dice pool of 5d6, which is the dice pool I'm still using today.

If you roll 5d6, you'll probably get a pair. But now and then, you'll get a triple (or more!) My combinatorics is rusty, so I might have missed a case, but, like ... 17% of the time, triples, quadruples, or quintuples? And around 9% chance, for no matches at all?

I think I was probably looking for 15% and 10%, that those were likely my optimum, but ... well, 5d6 comes pretty close. Roughly 25% total was about as far as I thought I could push critical results while still having them feel kind or rare. Like ...

If I'm rolling a d20 in a D&D-like system, and if I'm going to succeed on an 18+, that's around when success is exciting, right? Maybe 17+, though that's pushing it? So we want to fall in the 15-20% range for a "special good roll." And people have been playing for a very long time now with the 5% chance of a "1" as a "special bad roll," and that seemed fine, so, like, 20-25% chance total is good.

And like ...

People talk a lot about Rolemaster crit fail tables in my vicinity, and complain about the whiff fests you see in some games where you keep rolling and rolling and nothing good or bad actually happens, and so I was naturally drawn to pushing crit failure odds a bit higher than you see in a d20-type game.

Now, one way people in indie circles tend to address "whiff fests" is by rethinking the whole dice-rolling ... paradigm ... so you never whiff; setting things up, in short, so that every roll means something, and every success and failure mean something too.

It's a leaner, richer way of doing things than you see in, say, D&D.

... I just didn't feel like it, here, because the whole point of things was to make dice rolling fun. I wanted people coming out of traditional games to be able to just pick up the dice and say "I'm rolling for this!" because the roll would be fun. Because consulting the dice oracle here, would be fun.

So in the end, that was the heart of it:

A 5d6 roll, focusing on the ease of counting matches and the high but not exorbitant frequency of special results.

But at the same time ...

I'm indie enough that I do really like rolls where, you know, every outcome is meaningful. Where you roll, and there's never a "whiff," just a set of possible meaningful outcomes.

A lot of the time, where I'm leaning into "rolls are fun, go ahead and roll," what it means to succeed, to fail, to crit, all that's up to the group, and sometimes it'll be unsatisfying. Other times, you'll crit succeed or crit fail and the GM will give you basically the exact same result as you'd have gotten on a regular success or failure, just, you know, jazzing up the description a bit with more narrative weight.

But I did manage to pull out about a third of the rolls you'll wind up actually making and assign strong mechanical and narrative weight to each outcome. Where what you were doing was well enough defined in the system that I could add some real meat to those crits, and even regular success and regular failure.

... though that's a story, I think, to be told some other time. ^_^

#the far roofs #jenna moran #rpgs

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an-au-blog · 2 months

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Artist Usopp who has the most vivid dreams of Sanji ever since he can remember, this mysterious blond growing alongside him in the unconscious world. So he grows up, goes to art school, gets his degree, and starts the path of a starving artist. Not a lot of people buy his art, but he keeps making it. He never liked showing the overwhelmingly large collection of sketches, paintings, 3D prints, carvings, clay figurines, literally anything he could make of Sanji. It felt too personal to show anyone, but people would inevitably see them, as he can't stop doodling the man. They keep saying that's what he should be promoting as his work and how people would pay big money for those, but he always doubted it.

A time came where he could feel the "starving artist" title a bit too literally. With regret, he took his friend's advice and sold a painting to some random guy. The man came back with a friend - lover of the arts and before Usopp knew it, he was selling the blond of his dreams to collectors and museums. He started making marble sculptures, now that he could afford it, like the blond was a greek god, an angel sent to feed him in his most desperate times. Usopp knew such a man didn't exist, but it was nice to have him in his dreams at least.

Well... that was until one day Luffy sent him a video. One of those memes where people went to galleries and posed with victorian portraits that looked like them. He captioned it with "lol rly thought it was him for a sec". Usopp thought this would be another video forgotten in the waves of spam Luffy liked to send, but as the different people went by, suddenly, Usopp felt cold sweat down his back. It was the blond. He looked exactly like the man in his dreams... no. that was the same man. He was absolutely sure of it. He had been drawing and studying that face, those hands, the colors and curves all his life. That was him!

He desperately tried finding him, but all he had was a private page and that was it. He couldn't get any clue as to who he was from the user name "LetHimCook" or the bio saying he was 21 and a rat and a cheff's hat emoji.

Usopp gave up hope for the time being as he was supposed to finish a project that was the biggest in his career so far.

The day to present it had come and Usopp stood there, nervous, talking about his art while snobbish-looking people hummed as if they understood anything about his life's work. Some of the asked questions that he absentmindedly answered, but then someone from the back, who Usopp couldn't see asked something that caught his attention.

"I have two questions if I may. Firstly, who is the inspiration to this "dream" collection? It seems to be more about a lover than actual dreams. And secondly, have you ever considered doing an auto portrait?"

The two unrelated questions caught him off guard, and he didn't know how to say anything about the first one without sounding insane, or the second - without sounding depressed.

"Uhm, interesting questions." Usopp cleared his throat. "You see, uh..." he tried finding the words but they died on his tongue when the asker came into view. It was him. "It's you." He said accidentally out loud.

"I beg your pardon?"

They look at each other for a long second. Usopp couldn't tear his eyes away from the blue haunting his every day and night. "Sorry, I- I didn't answer your uh-" Usopp stuttered, trying to keep any semblance of dignity he could. "I don't like doing self portraits, I've made a few but the model kind of sucks." The people laughed with him but the blond only gave a small smile.

"I would love to see them some time, as I'm sure I'm not the only one."

How could this man leave him speechless every time.

After the Q&A bit was over, Usopp tried his best to avoid small talk from the guests so he could get to the blond before he left. But by the time he got there, Sanji was talking to someone, it would have been extremely awkward to join in.

"Hey, Usopp!" The man who was talking to Sanji turned, and oh God it was Luffy.

The artist didn't know if he should be happy or a bit scared. Luffy dragged Usopp into the conversation and it started flowing quite easily. It was not long before Luffy left to see another friend of his but his absence didn't make it uncomfortable. Usopp learned the man's name, that he loved to cook and that he had been a fan of his work for a while.

Agreeing that Sanji would get a "private tour" or the rest of Usopps (not displayed works), the "party" ends.

On their way home, Luffy hits him with a "It was so funny seeing that guy flirt with you all night."

Usopp, stopping dead in his tracks: Who?

Luffy: Blond guy who kinda looks like your obsession drawings...

Usopp malfunctioning: .......... oh...... . .. . . ... OH!

When they finally arrange a date for the "private tour", Usopp keeps an open mind, trying to see if he really WAS flirting. But then they get to the half-assed self portraits Usopp made of himself and, honestly - Usopp never wanted to show them. He wasn't all that good-looking, he didn't like how they turned out, he hadn't put in any effort and most of them were more reminiscent of grotesque caricatures than the usual realistic beauty he was used to painting.

"They're not really - I mean I mostly made them out of boredom, I- I don't really like them and- and-" He tried to excuse himself, but when he looked at Sanji, he lost all his words. The blond was looking at the paintings and sketches with such awe and sympathy. He reached out to the painted face, the tips of his fingers barely grazing the surface.

He looked back at Usopp, causing his breath to catch in his throat.

"You're far too mean to yourself." Sanji said, faint, barely audible. His eyes widened slightly as the words escaped his lips as if he didn't mean to let them slip.

On instinct, the deep-rooted self-loading Usopp had harboured all these years bubbled just the slightest. "Haha, or maybe not enough."

But then Sanji turned to him seriously, lips in a thin line, a bit hurt. "In... in an interview you once said you're glad the public liked your art, because you wouldn't bare sharing a piece of your soul and seeing anyone insult the man who's haunted your dreams." A stuttering breath. "So, I'd like to request you don't insult the man from mine..."

Oh...

#sanuso #sanji x usopp #idk i just uhhhh #something something the artist and his muse #something something kiss already #op

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kinardsevan · 2 months

Text

snapshot.

(finally fulfilling that prompt @30somethingautisticteacher sent me about Tommy dropping facts at an art museum / aka, me abusing my art degree.)

They stroll into the museum and Evan is all but bouncing on his heels as they wait to get through admission. Ever since Tommy mentioned going for a day date, he’s been on a deep dive on the Rembrandt collection currently on display. He has so many fun facts he’s excited to share with Tommy that he couldn’t even keep them all to himself until they made it into the exhibit.

“Did you know he painted over 300 paintings in his life,” he’d told Tommy on the drive over. And Tommy had responded the same way he always did, always invested in his deep dives.

“Really, babe? What else?”

He’d launched into half a dozen facts about the artist while they were still on the 10 before remembering that he wanted to save the best for when they actually got to the museum.

So he’s a little thrown when, after getting past admission, Tommy leads him down into the basement instead of up towards the third floor where he knows the collection is stored.

“Where are we going,” he asks, being pulled along by Tommy’s fingers interlaced with his. He’s not upset, but he’s definitely curious by this change in plans.

They make into the basement and around a corner, through an open doorway.

“Photo department is always in the basement,” Tommy murmurs as they start walking into the room. “Why they keep them hidden away from the light is beyond me, but…”

Evan follows after him, watching with rapt attention as Tommy leads him forward, towards the first set of photographs. They’re black and white prints; portraits. A man at a desk with books stacked in front of him. Another man at a kitchen table from the 60s, metal lunch pale in front of him. A bed with a stuffed animal on it.

“Chauncey Hare,” Tommy states softly, not wanting to interrupt other people’s study of the photographs in the room. “He started out at Standard Oil Company and ended up shooting all this work on the bullshit that goes on in the work place. Got a degree in psychology and abandoned it all to work with his second wife on working against workplace abuse.”

Evan looks up at Tommy then, a little baffled. Tommy tugs his hand gently, pulling him further along to see more of the pictures. There’s one of a girl sitting in who Evan assumes in her father’s lap, facing the camera. Two other men also facing the camera but not in focus are also in the image. A blonde girl holding a cigarette in the next. A child without a shirt on, laying in someone’s lap.

“Sally Mann,” Tommy tells him as he continues to stare at the picture of the little girl holding the cigarette. “She shoots a lot of stuff, but her bread and butter are her family, even now. There’s been a lot of controversy over her work because of the state of nudity, but-...”

“It’s amazing,” Evan murmurs, almost a whisper. He can’t stop looking at the picture of the daughter with the cigarette.

Tommy keeps pulling him along, showing him pictures, talking about the artists, moving through decades of images, until they’re standing in front of newer work. Color photos.

Children standing in a doorway. A boy at a table, looking at the camera as an adult holds a baby in the background. Sisters—a blonde and a ginger—next to each other. Three boys on the floor in front of empty chairs. A woman laying in bed holding a small blonde child of maybe one or two, bathed in sunlight.

“Jessica Todd Harper,” Tommy says as Evan reads the label next to the image. “She shoots her family too. Some posed, some not. Always trying to tell a story about family interactions and complex relationships.”

Evan stares at him, utterly enamored as they walk out of the area, head back towards the stairs.

“We can still go see the paintings,” Tommy tells him. “I just… I like the photography.”

Evan stops walking, pulls Tommy back when he keeps moving. His boyfriend looks back at him, gives a small smirk.

“Did I steal your thunder,” he asks, a little bit sheepishly so.

Evan shakes his head, stepping into Tommy’s space, resting his hand on his chest.

“I like it when you let me in like this,” he murmurs. “When you share.”

Tommy’s smile widens a bit more, even as his cheeks flush.

“I just think…most people don’t think a lot about what’s happening in an image. Is it real? Or is it just a concept of what you think is real? Is it telling an actual story, or just the version of a story you’ve decided on?And what makes one more important than the other? Is digital better than film? Some people think nothing will ever top painting, others think digital photography is a hack and doesn’t have the same connotations as film photography because there’s less effort in the process,” he states. He pauses for a moment, somehow getting pinker in the cheeks. “That’s what I nerd out about.”

Evan grins at him and then leans forward pecking him on the lips.

“Well we’re just gonna have to go see more photo exhibitions then,” he says when he pulls away. “Can’t have you holding out on me now.”

Tommy rolls his eyes, shaking his head. He tilts his head towards the stairwell again. “Come on. Tell me all you researched about Rembrandt.”

(I posted all of these pictures on my feed if you want to see them!!!!)

#prompt fic #mini fic #bucktommy #tevan #kinley #firepilot #firebeast #mel abuses her art degree #photo is literally my emphasis #and these are the photogs i love

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averagewriter-inthedark · 2 years

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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

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thetravelingtyper · 4 months

Text

On The Same Page Pt 8 (Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader Bookshop! AU)

With Simon, Sam, Sofia, and Kyle, you divulge your past relationship with James...

Part 7, Masterlist

Warnings! Allusions to Cheating

AN! This chapter isn't as complex as I wanted it to be due to a massive writer's block, but all the points are there!

I stood alone, upon the platform in vain

The Puerto Ricans, they were playing me salsa in the rain

With open doors and manual locks

In fast-food parking lots

It was about your 2nd or 3rd month in when you were starting to finalize your old draft. The tale was a hit in the children's department, test prints at the local library were eaten up and parents were chomping at the bits for more. You had been out in the courtyard, sitting in the shade with your papers, some books and your Corsair set aside, when you heard a smooth voice talking into a phone.

“I know it is due - come on you know me, Sir, I'll find something.”

There is the sound of steady footsteps as you look up. They get louder on the cobbled path as a man approaches. You cock your head as he mutters something before pausing in his walk to run a hand through blond hair. There is something handsome about him you think at the moment, he is tall, taller than Sam, and broad. But he carries himself tightly, coiled like a spring and you frown. You shrug, spinning the pen in your hand before reaching out to the colored manuscript before you. It's the turning of the page that has the man finally clock you. He was taken aback for a moment, head tilting down to regard you in the shimmering shade of the tree. You are engrossed in scattered illustrations, rough concept art trailing over glossy pages. Blue eyes then catch the typewriter as your hands seek it without a glace, like a steady friend grasping for comfort.

He watches your eyes lighten then when you focus on it, fingers pressing into ivory keys with a steading thrumming click. He runs his hand to his chin in thought before his phone rings again calling your attention to your watcher. Your wide eyes focus on him then and he feels a pulse of his heart. You were beautiful and he curses mentally before answering his phone. His voice is steady but you can hear the frustration, he mutters an affirmative before hanging up again. His eyes then meet yours and you give him a small, if hesitant, smile. He returns it with a charming grin and he approaches the shade of the tree.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, I hadn’t realized you were there.” He reaches the edge of the path before taking a booted step into the grass. He wears a formal white dress shirt sharply tucked into a pair of dark jeans and you take him in further. The fabric at his shoulders is taunt on his form but not unfitting, and the unevenness of his collar suggests a suit or other type of jacket. Given the cool weather of fall, you were not surprised. The topmost buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned leaving sun-tanned skin and a strong collarbone. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up a quarter showing clear forearms and a slim silver watch. He watches your observation, stepping to the edge of the blanket you had sprawled out.

He motions to a clear space across from you, and debating you nod. He easily clears your Corsair before stepping into the clear space and settling down into a comfortable position. He smiles at your silent acceptance and you give a light ‘good afternoon’ fidgeting lightly with the pen in your grasp, unsure of how to progress. He senses this and offers you a hand over the manuscript.

“James, James Marin.” His accent deepens a little bit at the ‘r’ of his last name and you take his hand and give a firm shake replying with your name. He rewards it with a winning smile.

“You must be the new children’s author. I am sorry I am so late in coming to meet you. I have heard a lot about your recent success in the stores, congratulations.”

You speak up after collecting yourself offering him a shy smile under the praise. His eyes remain on yours before flickering to a rough sketch of a dragon. The wyrm swirls in a vortex of color its scales shining in the gloss of the page. You notice and explain the concept of your first book. James listens dutifully as you break down a world of dragons and knights. You become more and more animated when you start showing him your rough sketches in the manuscript. There are dragons, female knights, and a saintly queen. Next to them, there are notes marked in ballpoint and some metallic sharpie, the gold font glimmering in the sun.

As you finish your tale you find James with a fond smile on his face that makes you a little flustered. You offer him the book and he takes it tenderly, fingers brushing yours with a spark.

“I like this,” he says it confidently and the praise has your heart lifting, “I like this a lot. Have you brought this outside the children’s department?”

You shake your head. You were only a few weeks into the business. You didn't want to overstep boundaries or step on any toes.

James chuckles,

“I understand you’re new but I think you have something good here and I want to present it to the higher-ups. Who do you work under?”

You answer with Sofia’s name and he nods in confirmation.

“You know what, we should do dinner sometime. Bring your manuscript and supplies and we can come up with a plan of attack together! If that sounds alright with you?”

He smiles at you and you nod, a little caught off guard, but the chance to wedge yourself in a little higher is one you would definitely take.

“Sure, that sounds nice.”

He gives you a winning smile at that.

“Its a deal doll.”

Sofia sighs after you recount this meeting. She leans forward, setting an elbow on her knee and her head in her palm.

“That man.” She says it in exasperation a hint of sad fondness. You frown with a heavy sigh and continue.

I headed West, I was a man on the move

New York had lied to me, I needed the truth

Oh, I need somebody, I needed someone I could trust

I don't gamble, but if I did I would bet on us

The meeting was a success, you and James worked over a consecutive month to present your book to the board. There was a moment of silence before a smile lit up the face of the lead of the children's department.

After the meeting, she pulled you aside with a grin.

“That was the most fun I’ve had in a while with a story. Sofia was right in taking you under her wing.” She then turns to James, “James. I want you to keep working with her and Sofia.”

She sets a hand on your shoulder,

“I am proud. Good work kid.”

You and James left the department suite, and you collapsed against the wall with a heavy breath. James's hand comes to your shoulder for support.

“You ok?”

“That was insane!”

He laughs a rich deep laugh one that seeps into your bones and you look up to him. He gives you a secret smile, eyes flickering over your face before returning to yours.

“You know, I think a celebratory dinner is in order, my treat.” He offers and you look up to him in surprise, a hand comes to the back of his neck then before he adds,

“If you wouldn’t mind me taking you out.”

A blush hits your face and your heart skips a beat. You were not going to deny the mutual attraction between the two of you. His hand sprawls out over your shoulder. You nod an affirmative,

“I’d like that.”

Like the Dead Sea

You told me I was like the Dead Sea

You'll never sink when you are with me

Oh Lord, like the Dead Sea

That dinner passes into another and another and soon enough you find yourself developing feelings for the man.

A few dates in you both make it quietly official and during a bookstore tour of your first published book, James meets Sam. Both men get a long swimmingly sharing both affection for you and a solid understanding of business logistics. You practically have to pull James back from a debate with Sam and you both step out into the street. Your arm tucked in his you stroll the water-streaked street. The Sunday is quiet, the sound of a passing car breaking up the sound of lingering pedestrians every once in a while. However, as you turn the block you stumble upon masses of color.

Set up in an empty lot is a vibrant and busy farmers market. You smile up at James and he chuckles, allowing you to pull him into the stalls. There are fresh ingredients, tomatoes, and strawberries, and your eye catches a gleaming orange gradient. You leave the food and pull James to the neighboring stall, flowers and assorted blooms everywhere the eye can see. Your eyes pass peonies, lavender, and roses to find a single bouquet of sunflowers. Your heart lifts and pulling your hand free you tenderly lift the bouquet to your chest.

It is a collection of annuals, A warm orange fading into a brown at the center. You take in the smell of sunflower fields and open skies and they remind you of home. You turn back to James in excitement but find him looking at you intently. There is a small smile on his face and when he meets your eyes his crinkle. He pulls out his wallet and hands a bill over to the florist. The older woman watches the two of you intently when you look at him with wide eyes in surprise. James returns his wallet to his pocket and opens his arms, tucking you in them, and with a quiet goodbye to the woman you both continue on your way.

The months pass into a steady relationship, spring turning into summer.

Whoa, I'm like the Dead Sea

Finest words you ever said to me

Honey, can't you see?

I was born to be, be your Dead Sea

Sam is out of town for a week and James is over for dinner. You tend to the pan in front of you when you hear James pad into the kitchen. You turn taking in the appearance of your boyfriend shirtless and in a pair of sweats. You raise a brow.

“You used my shampoo?”

James looks like he's been caught red-handed before an easy grin surfaces,

“Smells like you sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes and he laughs before stepping behind you and pulling you flush against him. You relax against the muscle of his torso, his head leaning on yours. You both sway in the quiet moment. He pulls back and spins you easily in his arms before looking at you intently.

Minding the pan you smile up at him and his heart quivers. He swallows, for once caught off guard. You cock your head confused hand reaching for his face. James’s face is rough from not shaving for a few days, but he leans into your hand anyway. He presses a delicate kiss to your palm before reaching to turn off the stove.

He chuckles then, swallowing his feelings with the laugh.

“The chicken is done.”

Your eyes widen and you try to spin to address dinner but James cages you in his arms playfully. You wiggle in protest and he eventually lets you go to tend to the food. He backs up and just watches as you return to working on the food, emotion simmering in his heart. Later that night you were getting ready for bed after a shower. Leaving the hall bathroom you enter your room to find James sitting on your bed deep in thought, to the point he doesn't realize you entered. You call his name softly and his head darts up to you.

“Are you alright?”

He exhales shakily but smiles, a soft smile that speaks to your heart.

“I am sweetheart. I love you.”

You exhale pausing at the moment with a clenched chest. Sofia takes your other hand and squeezes it. Your eyes meet Sam who is tense, leaning back with an unreadable expression on his face. You find Kyle listening intently, a concerned frown on his face. Simon has shifted closer to you, and the ottoman quietly scooted to bump up next to your chair. With his height he is able to rest the elbow of the hand connected to yours on the armrest, gradually having inched himself into your space.

You lift your hands and Simon meets your eyes, then glancing to his position he seems a little surprised to be so close. He moves to scoot back but you tug his arm lightly and set your head on his shoulder. His eyes widen a fraction before softening, relaxing into the side of the chair for support.

You told me you were good at running away

Domestic life, it never suited you like a suitcase

You left with just the clothes on your back

Took the rest when you took a nap

Summer brings sunflowers in fall. The success of your first book sweeps you into a little tour. Both Sofia and James join you while Sam remained home to work on a large project for his company. You three spend days exploring the American East Coast, visiting both local and chain bookstores and community libraries. You tended especially to the children readers. While Sofia was handling business James would watch from the sidelines as you were engaged with the kids. While the plot of your book was simple the poems in it allowed for intrigue from older kids. And on this particularly warm day in Boston this is where James found you.

You sat in a pair of jeans and a blouse with a dragon stuffie in your lap. The children watch in fascination as you read, showing fully illustrated pictures and making voices. Eventually, at the end of your tale one of the younger children, dressed in a lion onesie, points to the good queens and asks,

“Are you a queen?”

You are about to keel over from the cuteness and are about to answer when James steps in and takes a seat next to you.

“Yea, she’s my queen.” He raises a brow in humor when all of the kids give a collective gasp and he presses a kiss to the side of your head.

Yes, there are times we live for somebody else

Your father died and you decided to live

It for yourself, you felt, you just felt it was time

And I'm glad, 'cause you with cats, that's just not right

Months later you were both cooking dinner, the entire night James was off, nervous. As you both work around the kitchen the man keeps checking his phone. Worry gnaws at your stomach and you ask if he is alright. James smiles at you and nods before going to take a call.

You were in the drafting stage of your second and honestly most favorite book. James had been with you every step of the way. He was like a liaison between you and the head of the department and often would play devil's advocate for your literary decisions.

A song pulls you from your memories as you add the final ingredients to the simmer.

You moved to turn the record player up as James reentered the kitchen. He pauses on the phone, taking in the sight of you in a sundress and cooking. His voice pauses in his throat as the faded light of spring catches the blushing reds and yellows of the florals.

Blue eyes darken as he hangs up the phone with a hushed later. He then approaches you with love welling up in his chest before pulling you into a dance.

Like the Dead Sea

You told me I was like the Dead Sea

You'll never sink when you are with me

Oh Lord, I'm your Dead Sea

A year and a half into your time at the company you found yourself in the courtyard surrounded by coworkers and fans. Your second book has been a success! Covered tables were scattered around the yard. There was a calm chatter in the air with a string of excitement that pulsed as you walked around mingling. You were dazzling James thought. The man paced back and forth through the crowd eyes turning to you naturally as he fumbled with the box in his pocket.

Later in the evening, you are standing with Sam when James approaches. Something in his eyes flashes and Sam nods. He presses a kiss to the side of your head and mentions going to Sofia. You nod, and as he leaves James runs a hand to yours.

“I want to show you something.”

Your head tilts at the tone of his voice, a sure seriousness you aren’t used to in the man. You nod to him nonetheless. He leads you into the dark beyond the light of the tables and small venue. You trace a cobbled path to the location of the oak tree. He pauses a moment before grinning at you and reaching for a spot on the tree and then there's brilliance.

He hits a button and flashes of lights like drizzled starlight trace its way up the tree. You gasp, the limbs of the tree alight with figures from your book, illustrations like stained glass dancing with the alternating flickering light. Your eyes follow the gleam of ruby, the shaded underside of wings to emerald scales on a whirling dragon.

You look at the tree in awe before feeling James dip down, you turn to him and your breathing spikes, he is down on one knee! There is the reflection of stories in his eyes as he starts with a breathy version of your name. His voice is a little shaky as he continues, watching your eyes widen and tears fill your eyes.

“-you have been my everything. Meeting you that day felt like fate intervened. You've taught me that the most powerful stories are the ones told from the heart, and you epitomize that truth. Through working with the kids, the tours, and countless long hours, I've witnessed not only your boundless love and creativity but also realized how much I need your stories in my life. Will you marry me?"

You can barely choke out a yes when there is cheering and you find the guests and your coworkers have found you. You see Sam and Sofia filming and smiling and James slides the ring on your finger before spinning you into an embrace.

Simon's hand clenches yours as you have to take a pause after recounting the moment, tears welling a little bit. You turn your forehead against his shoulder and his other head comes up to caress your cheek. You breathe in a shaky breath and lean into the warmth of his hand, heart raising as the taller man turns to look down at you. The others are drowned out by the hazel of his eye. A moment later you blink and with a nod to Sam, you continue.

Whoa, I'm like the Dead Sea (dead sea)

The nicest words you ever said to me (said to me)

Honey, can't you see?

I was born to be, be your Dead Sea

A few easy months passed in happiness on your part, but as you progressed on your third book, James got called onto other projects, namely YA and NA book tours. This meant working closely with your biggest headache in the company, Sabrina. While you had tried your best to interact with her, her consistent brushing off of children's authors and favoritism towards her own interests irked you. You and Sarah were the only two who didn't bother engaging with her unless necessary. Moreover, Sabrina’s consistent interest in James didn't go unnoticed.

James was partnered with her for her tour, and while he maintained a respectful distance, Sabrina would often stubbornly take his arm or pass a hand over his arm when moving past him. Despite this, you respected and trusted your partner and thought nothing of it.

However, after the tour, the late nights began. You knew they worked well together through the talk of her publicist, who gossiped like a little girl.

“They really nailed that final report! Goodness me, they work wonderfully together!” she would say.

The late nights concerned you, but James always reassured you with a firm peck on the forehead, insisting there was nothing to worry about. He still made it home in time for dinner. However, things tipped eventually as the gala was announced.

You were swept into the preparation for a children's author section when you noticed odd things. As James prepared for work, he would often leave the kitchen to take a call, returning 10 to 15 minutes later with a smug smile on his face. When you asked what happened, he would always reply with “successful business.”

As the months trudged on, James became more absent, missing dinner first with super apologetic messages, then skipping work lunches to take up work in his office. Sabrina made more motions to interact with you too. You thought it was for the sake of the committee, but something in the pit of your stomach simmered in warning at the flash of her teeth in a smile.

A month before the event, there was a weekend trip for the NA authors and James was invited. As he packed his bag, you stood with your arms folded in the door frame.

“Be sure to text me when you guys get to the retreat.”

He nodded absentmindedly, his blue eyes turning to you and noticing your tense posture. Something in him softened as he came to you and pulled you into his arms.

“It’ll be all over soon.”

You couldn’t even begin to ponder the meaning of the statement before he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

He didn’t message until days later, quoting poor signal.

Sam frowned as you paced the apartment. You had voiced your concerns to him, choosing to leave Sofia out of it.

“He's been picking more projects up with Sabrina,” Sam said almost accusatorily, his arms coming around you.

You were about to answer when there was a knock at the door. Sam opened it to find a dark-eyed James. He brushed past Sam to find you.

“You weren’t home,” he said darkly.

“I hadn’t heard you would be home,” you replied, standing up. James tugged you forward into a possessive kiss.

From then on, James was at your side more, for some reason possessively snapping and tense towards Sam. Despite his longer work hours with Sabrina, he would often crowd you at your apartment, especially when Sam was around.

Moments in the kitchen, like a palm to your neck, pushed you away, but then James would apologize, claiming stress as the gala approached.

It all hit a boiling point that night.

I've been down, I've been defeated

You're the message I was heeding

Would you stay

Would you stay the night? Ooh

That night, a fine Friday outside the statehouse, was scattered with strung lights and pulsing stars. You and Sam arrived together to attend the Children’s Department party. You received many congratulations, and as Sofia joined you, you enjoyed your time, waiting for James's arrival from the board meeting. As you stepped outside alone, you checked your phone but found no messages from James.

Last night, he had come home exceptionally late, skipping dinner and passing out from exhaustion. He left early in the morning with a quick peck on your sleeping forehead before slipping into the pre-dawn light.

As you turned from the secluded section towards the entrance, you caught a familiar voice. It was Sabrina, talking to someone hidden by the shadows.

“You can’t back out now, think of the headlines! I’m not letting you ruin this because of cold feet.”

She surged forward to kiss the man, dragging him into the light—it was James. Your little gasp was muffled by the sudden flashing of lights as the outer doors opened to the news, the flashes of cameras catching the affair. Something in James seemed to click as he pulled away, eyes wide. Then he saw you. Panic and something you couldn’t name passed through them. Sabrina turned to you with a pleased smile curving on her face.

She motioned to you as tears streamed down your face and other authors approached, drawn by the commotion. An arm tugged you into a chest as you felt Sam’s protective embrace, his anger palpable. There was a shift in James’s eyes then, and he pulled Sabrina to him, muttering the words that broke your heart,

“I never loved you anyway.”

Dead Sea

Told me I was like the Dead Sea

Never sink when you are with me

Oh Lord, I'm your Dead Sea

The next minutes passed in a blur of camera flashes and reporters' shouts as Sam pulled you through the crowd, Sofia and Sarah following close behind. The other guests caught on and—laughed? The tails of your dress cleared the ground as you slid into the passenger seat of Sam’s car. As he drove, your tears flowed freely. You could already imagine the headlines. You didn't want to think about them and turned to see Sam's knuckles white on the wheel.

“That bastard!” he muttered.

Sofia’s hand reached from the back seat to your shoulder. Her eyes were clouded with shock and shame, both for James and out of concern for you. As you arrived back at your apartment, the reality of the situation sank in.

The next day, the headlines featured your tear-streaked face. There was outrage from your fans, but Sabrina's influence and her larger following had others cheering for her and the handsome man. After silencing and privateing your socials, James tried to call. You just turned your phone off and continued packing. Sam had a crazy idea—jumping an ocean and starting fresh with his family’s publishing company.

At the airport, Sofia pulled you into a tight hug.

“I’ll take care of everything,” she promised.

And that, dear reader, is how you found yourself settling into and naming the Fox’s Den.

The group goes quiet as you finish with a shaky sigh. Simon is tight against you, and Sam is tense with a seasoned rage. Kyle had a frown on his face and Sofia set her hand on your knee.

“Its all over dear, I’ll make sure of it. Ill talk and see what I can-”

“No” Your firmer then you though your voice would be.

“I can’t run from this Sofia. It would only make things worst.”

The older woman nods solemnly.

“He is a right sod” Kyle makes you laugh with the sudden exclamation. The tense mood is broken then as you feel Simon's arm flex under yours. As the others start a conversation you turn to him to find him looking down at you with narrowed eyes.

“I'm here dove, he’ll keep off if he knows what's good for him.”

You breath out at the statement, its said simply and with promise.

You look to the others, finding their drinks empty and you stand suddenly and pull Simon with you.

“Tea?” The others nod and you go to let go of Simon’s hand but his hold yours firmly. You move over to the bar with the coffee machine and Simon follows one step behind. As you approach Simon spins you to lean against the counter before stepping into your space.

“I mean it Dove, I’m staying,” He looks away for a moment, “if you’ll have me.”

There is a flutter in your heart at his shyness and as the others chat you are shielded by Simon amongst the bookshelves. You look at his lips and he smirks, lips quirking up before he dips and kisses you. Between breaths, he chuckles,

“I'll take this as a yes.”

Whoa, I'm like the Dead Sea (dead sea)

The nicest words you ever said to me (said to me)

Honey, can't you see?

I was born to be your Dead Sea

Taglist!

@ghostlythots, @tapioca-milktea1978, @cmbghost, @nexthyperfix, @feedthefandoms995

#cod mw2 2022 fanfic #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #soap and reader #simon riley fluff #fanfiction #simon 'ghost' riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #on the same page #Simon riley x you #Simon riley #cod mw2 2022 #john soap mactavish #Protective ghost #kyle garrick #kyle gaz garrick

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purplealmonds · 6 months

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I watched the Mononoke Zashikiwarashi stage play!!

I watched the performances on 03/29 and 03/30, and I have so many Thoughts. But I’m on vacation and haven’t the spoons to draft them up coherently until I return home in a few days.

For now, I'll do a photo/art dump of my experience.

I arrived a few hours early to the theater (I had to take the train from Kyoto to Osaka, and built in time for potential navigational incompetence). While I waited for the theater to open up, cracked open my iPad and started painting in Procreate.

This is the exterior of Cool Japan Park Osaka's WW Hall. Shaking off a lot of rust from painting from observation, but I'm happy with how the colors came out.

Photo for reference, though I painted it live. Shadows moved quite a bit while I worked because I am slow.

This is the interior of the theater. I was forbidden from taking photo and video of this space, so I painted it it, albeit messily because of the short time I had before the performance began.

Winding back time a bit, here's the cardboard cutout stand the theater staff set out right before they started admitting people into the lobby:

It was a bit windy that day, so it actually snapped in half mere minutes after its installation lmao. Not pictured is the flustered staff tying Mr. Medicine Seller to the railing with some twine.

Selfie taken after the disaster:

Keeping an eye on Mr. Medicine Seller to ensure he doesn't misbehave agains, prints in hand to be gifted to unsuspecting theater-goers:

When I was seated, some of the giftees stopped by to gift me with an acrylic standee and a cookie! The standee is given exclusively to audience members who preordered their tickets super early, so it's amazing I got my hands on one! After the performance, someone also posted my art on their instagram story! O:

The performance visual, gift shop, and posters were also deployed around this time.

Also was pleasantly surprised to see a huge Mononoke Karakusa poster displayed. Unlike typical movie posters, this one was printed on a rather thick matte rather than thin translucent gloss paper.

And here's the merch and goodies I acquired at the lobby:

I was originally buying just the pamphlet, but as you can see I did a few more impulse purchases! I ended up getting:

📖 Zashikiwarashi Pamphlet - Hoping if productions of other episodes are a thing this can become a collection. The Bakeneko pamphlet was also sold here. If there's interest I can do a flip-through video of both the Bakeneko and Zashikiwarashi pamphlets!

🎟️Mononoke Karakasa Bonus Gifts: I thought it was just the clear file and a neat lil trading card but it seems like the trading card is actually a movie ticket??? I’m not gonna be in Japan when the movie comes out though but it’s a nice souvenir nonetheless!

🌇 Mononoke Karakasa flyer - The theatre had massive stacks of them to be taken freely. The first one got a bit wrinkled on my ride back to the hotel, so I grabbed 2 more after watching the 2nd performance!

💿Bakeneko Blu-Ray - This was something I thought I’d never get my hands as a US resident so I was pleasantly surprised they were selling this. Definitely a pretty penny but now I get to watch it at my leisure when I get home! May do a write up about it eventually. The Zashikiwarashi Blu-Ray actually went on sale today, but it only delivers in Japan. Sighhh. I guess I have no choice but to fly back when the Umi Bozu stageplay goes live. Or if it pops up on Mercari some time in August the price gouging hopefully won't be too horrific.

#mononoke 2007 #mononoke 2024 #モノノ怪 #mononoke #butai mononoke #mononoke karakasa #purplealmonds #blogging #2024 #🔕

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itsdrawingmen · 3 months

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I saw a dunmeshi art where they lined up the characters in their underwear, and got brainworms from it. I'm not really good at painted studies, it turns out, or maybe it just didn't work right now, but I like how the drawing came out. It was an excercise in different bodies, and I think they’re all neat.

Some headcanons and musings:

Zen has boobs, tits even, but that's canon, and all the time I was drawing him I was thinking about that selfie from his album where he's wearing a half-buttoned white shirt and his cleavage is visible. I am looking at him respectfully (not really, I am looking at him like this:

He's shaved everywhere, and he wears very plain, neutral-coloured underwear. His normal state is being pretty meaty, but he doesn’t like himself that way. He’s often dried out for his roles.

Yoosung is narrow-chested, thin, covered in moles, and comparatively kinda hairy — not by my European standards, but compared to the others here. He doesn't care about shaving, for himself or anyone else. He often wears funky boxers, and has sort of got a collection. Even when it's not funky-printed, his underwear is usually bright-coloured. He's cringe, but he's free. Also, not pictured, but he’s often covered in hickeys, normally from the chest up. Not gonna say who leaves them, but anyone who knows me even a little can take a wild guess 👀

Jaehee is wide in the hips and big-breasted. Her underwear is normally mismatched, because she doesn't care. The only thing she cares about is that it doesn't show through her clothes. In the canon timeline, she usually wears those thick stiff heavily padded bras that smooth everything out, and then over the course of the postcanon she gradually switches to softer cups. She's sedentary, often stressed, and doesn't eat well, so she's not really thin. She has acne on her face, neck, back, chest, and shoulders. She shaves because she’s too used to it, but she gradually gets more relaxed about it.

Next up is Joori Nam, the MC. She's a big, tall young woman, quite heavy and strong. She likes to show off her edgy and feisty personality in clothes and underwear, and she's also pretty expressive and energetic in gestures. She's depressed and a self-harmer. She barely shaves, only where is absolutely necessary to look ‘presentable’ for work. Otherwise, she can’t be assed.

The Chois are emaciated and scarred. They've both got some mild pectus excavatum. The Mother Choi used to stub cigarettes on them, and Saeran has got it worse.

Saeyoung is slightly more muscular and slightly less scarred. He has knobby square fingers, and nails bitten to almost nothing. He's also an active self-harmer. He's missing several toenails. All of his underwear is a little baggy on him.

Saeran is even thinner and less muscular. He has a lot of piercings, and his tattoo is blacked out into a full sleeve. He has barely any body hair at all. He is pretty much covered in cigarette burn scars, as well as scars from being whipped with cables, and several deep and crooked scars from gashes made with glass bottles.

Jumin, without his PR team, can't pose for shit. He is good at doing what they tell him, and he looks fine when photographed candidly, but as soon as he starts posing on his own, he just looks awkward and stiff. He has a weird case of CEO-body, where he's fit, but also weirdly soft in unexpected places (namely, his chest and arms). He shaves because it's 'hygienic'. He also wears briefs. Sorry, to me he looks like someone who wears briefs.

Jihyun is normally pretty toned, but after the whole ordeal with Rika and having to cover for her he has gained some weight and gotten soft. He has a long torso and wider hips and a bit of a belly. He hunches his back a lot, and picks at the skin of his fingers.

Rika is slender and dancerly, and very traditionally feminine. She’s small and graceful, not muscular, but soft, with smooth porcelain skin. She wears lingerie, always matching, always beautiful, and pretty much only owns thongs and tanga. Somehow, despite always looking up at people, she can easily make you feel like she’s looking down at you.

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genericpuff · 1 year

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no but listen, rachel has truly embodied herself as persephone because she's constantly trying to "distance herself" from her past as a medical fetish artist but then keeps the name that's affiliated with her medical fetish art-

Like, I can't believe I never noticed it before tbh, but that was the thought that hit me while I was explaining to someone on reddit what the name "used bandaid" meant and why it was weird that Rachel is STILL using it on her print cover books, even now when she just recently set up a new Facebook account with her REAL NAME and not the used_bandaid penname (I feel like this is an attempt to "legitimize" herself in the industry but idk).

But that leads me into talking about how she keeps lying about LO being her first webcomic project and that really pisses me off. And yes, this is related to the used_bandaid thing, just bear with me here.

A lot of my contempt for this is for reasons that go beyond her, I just hate the notion that people should succeed on their "first try" and that's an idea that's often sold by people like Rachel who spin these grandiose stories of how they were just "trying it out" and suddenly wham! Fame and fortune! You can achieve all this and more if you just xyz!

Literally, in every interview I've found over the past couple years, she always heavily implies that LO was her "first attempt", that she had never used Webtoons prior to LO, and that she was just "dipping her toes" into the medium. None of this is true, she's literally been drawing webcomics since the early 2000's (possibly earlier but the earliest documentation we can find is of The Doctor Pepper Show), LO wasn't even her first webcomic on the Webtoons platform (that goes to The Doctor Foxglove Show which she ended up dumping a chapter in to work on LO almost immediately after starting it on Tumblr) and as much as she'll claim she "couldn't pay anyone to look at her work", she had landed a number of gigs that got her work out there, had been printed in anthology collections, and IIRC she had even won some small local NZ awards for her comics prior to LO. Shit, there was a local beer brand that had her art on its labelling.

But it really feels like she's trying her damn hardest to hide all that, never mentioning or implying that she did anything prior to LO, that she was just a "struggling graphic artist working in retail" until LO happened.

So why keep the penname that's directly affiliated with that past identity ??

It boggles my mind, honestly, especially considering she had gone by MULTIPLE usernames back then, some of which were actually pretty sane that she could have used instead (such as Rach Alex, which she uses in her FB groups, and Rachel Royale).

I wouldn't blame her if she was trying to hide her old medical fetish stuff, whether she didn't want it affiliated with her new LO branding or if she's just embarrassed by it, I can totally empathize with that because god knows I wouldn't be all that proud to show off the cringy shit I got up to during my early days on the Internet. But if she IS embarrassed by it, you'd think the last thing she'd want to keep is the name that's directly affiliated with the thing she's embarrassed by. Almost like a certain pink protagonist who goes by the name she earned after doing the thing she doesn't want to talk about.

But if she ISN'T embarrassed by it, then why lie?

Why paint this picture that LO was a one hit wonder, that she lived on "struggle street" until she found fame and fortune on Webtoons?

Oh right. Because it's a better story.

Because it's way more romantic to be some struggling indie darling who "came from nothing" and achieved fame through one big idea. Because it looks good for the platform who's trying to attract people to their app and website on the promise that you, too, can be a success story simply because you followed the exact same perceived steps that you saw another person follow and advertise.

If you can't tell from my tone, I really fucking hate this kind of disingenuous wish fulfillment advertising. It's manipulative, it's cruel, and it sets people up with expectations far beyond their scope of reaching, both due to the luck and "being in the right place at the right time" involved at best (which is a HUGE factor in stories like these that people never talk about), or through joy-killing comparison at worst when you don't achieve worldwide fame on your first try and wonder why everyone else did (spoiler: they didn't, they just want you to think that because it makes for better headlines and it gets you using whatever product they're affiliated with.)

If Rachel doesn't want to be tied down to her past, that's fine. But it's incredibly irresponsible and flat out cruel to lie about that past existing at all because it sets a horrible precedent to those who look up to her and want what she has.

And I say all that because I've seen what happens to the people starting out who admire these creators who painted the picture that they were just successful right off the bat. It's not a fun headspace to be in, it's robbed many creators like myself and others of their joy in creating, and it's really all just a ploy to get you to spend time and money and energy on a stupid corporate phone app that profits off your emotional investment and labor. Don't fall for it. Pretending like the Act of Wrath didn't happen doesn't remove it from history.

Anyways, I was gonna leave it at that, but then I ended up doing another rabbithole deep dive through her Wayback Machine and found album art she had illustrated for NZ band PorcelainToy. Enjoy this piece of her "dark era" art that still exists without needing to use the Wayback Machine.

youtube

#sorry btw if this seems like a sequel to the post i just made i stg they're not related #this post was written at like 4 am after doing another hyperfixated deep dive #so it's literally just an unfortunate but funny coincidence that it came right after me talking about my own roots LOL #i gotta go to bed i'm getting stabbed with ink tomorrow #lore olympus critical #lo critical #antiloreolympus #anti lore olympus #Youtube

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chellescripts · 4 months

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Career Legacy Challenge: Rules

A Sims 4 completionist legacy challenge that plays through all the careers while aiming to complete all collections, rewards, aspirations, degrees, skills, using all traits and worlds in-game.

Basic Rules

Since there are 26 generations in all, heirs could be named alphabetically

Spouses must complete the other career track, unless there’s only one career branch

Spouses may complete the side quests, second aspiration, and/or after-school activity

University is optional except when an organization or an after-school activity is specified

The family museum should contain the collections, career rewards, and other memorabilia of the family. It can be a closed retail lot that is passed throughout the generations.

Generation A: Actor

Traits: Self-Assured, Snob Aspiration: Master Actor/Actress Aspiration Collection: Crystals Side Quest 1: Complete the Successful Lineage Aspiration Side Quest 2: Start the Family Museum

Optional: Home: Del Sol Valley Degree: Drama

Generation B: Astronaut

Traits: Materialistic, Loves Outdoors Aspiration: Fabulously Wealthy Collection: Space Prints Side Quest 1: Fully upgrade the rocket Side Quest 2: Go to Sixam

Optional: Home: Oasis Springs Degree: Physics: Space Ranger

Generation C: Athlete

Traits: Active, Romantic Aspiration: Serial Romantic Collection: MySims Trophies Side Quest 1: Win the MVP Soccer Trophy as a Soccer Team Player Side Quest 2: Complete the Bodybuilder Aspiration

Optional: Home: San Sequoia Degree: Biology: Bodybuilder

Generation D: Business

Traits: Cheerful, Kleptomaniac Aspiration: Party Animal Collection: Holiday Cracker Plushies Side Quest 1: Become a Senior Member of the Foxbury Spirit Squad Side Quest 2: Max the DJ Mixing skill

Optional: Home: Magnolia Promenade Degree: Economics: Investor

Generation E: Conservationist

Traits: Child of the Islands, Vegetarian Aspiration: Beach Life Collection: Buried Treasure Side Quest 1: Cleanup Sulani until it is thriving Side Quest 2: Watch a Tutle Hatching event

Optional: Home: Sulani Degree: Biology: Marine Biologist

Generation F: Criminal

Traits: Evil Aspiration: Public Enemy Collection: Metals Side Quest 1: Befriend the Grim Reaper Side Quest 2: Complete the Villainous Valentine Aspiration

Optional: Home: Willow Creek Degree: Villainy: Criminal Boss

Generation G: Critic

Traits: Hot-Headed, Foodie Aspiration: City Native Collection: City Posters Side Quest 1: Learn all the City Food Stall recipes Side Quest 2: Buy all 5 Trash and Treasure items from the Flea Market

Optional: Home: San Myshuno Degree: Art History: Arts Critic

Generation H: Culinary

Traits: Glutton, Jealous Aspiration: Master Chef Collection: Experimental Food Photos Side Quest 1: Prepare Ambrosia and bring back a ghost to life Side Quest 2: Marry someone who will complete the Master Mixologist Aspiration

Optional: Home: Windenburg Degree: Culinary Arts: Chef

Generation I: Detective

Traits: Insider, Gloomy Aspiration: Leader of the Pack Collection: Microscope Prints Side Quest 1: Meet with the club at least once a week Side Quest 2: Complete the Neighborhood Confidante Aspiration

Optional: Home: Newcrest Degree: Psychology: Detective

Generation J: Doctor

Traits: Cat Lover, Neat Aspiration: Friend of the Animals Collection: Feathers Side Quest 1: Make a purple owl statue from another set of feathers Side Quest 2: Max the Veterinarian skill

Optional: Home: Brindleton Bay Degree: Biology: Doctor

Generation K: Education

Traits: Family-Oriented, Art Lover Aspiration: Super Parent Collection: Frogs Side Quest 1: Complete the Big Happy Family Aspiration Side Quest 2: Max the Cross Stitch skill

Optional: Home: Henford-on-Bagley Degree: Psychology: Professor

Generation L: Engineer

Traits: Geek, Unflirty Aspiration: Nerd Brain Collection: Space Rocks, Aliens Side Quest 1: Become a Senior Member of the Bot Savants Side Quest 2: Create a Servo

Optional: Home: Oasis Springs Degree: Physics: Mechanical Engineer

Generation M: Entertainer

Traits: Dance Machine, Lactose Intolerant Aspiration: Joke Star Collection: Sugar Skulls Side Quest 1: Win an award at the Starlight Accolades Side Quest 2: Complete the Musical Genius Aspiration with a Guitar

Optional: Home: San Sequoia Degree: Drama: Comedian

Generation N: Freelancer

Traits: Adventurous, Bro Aspiration: Extreme Sports Enthusiast Collection: Snow Globes Side Quest 1: Max all extreme sports skills Side Quest 2: Complete the Renaissance Sim Aspiration

Optional: Home: Mt. Komorebi Degree: Communications: Supervisor

Generation O: Gardener

Traits: Animal Enthusiast, Music Lover Aspiration: Country Caretaker Collection: Village Fair Ribbons (Main Competitions only since the Minor ones are bugged) Side Quest 1: Complete at least 3 errands Side Quest 2: Hatch a Golden Chicken

Optional: Home: Henford-on-Bagley Degree: Biology: Botanist

Generation P: Law

Traits: Perfectionist, Mean Aspiration: Angling Ace Collection: Fish Side Quest 1: Fish at Sylvan Glade and Forgotten grotto Side Quest 2: Win at the Sulani Fishing Tournament

Optional: Home: Willow Creek Degree: History: Judge

Generation Q: Painter

Traits: Creative, Clumsy Aspiration: Painter Extraordinaire Collection: Decorative Eggs Side Quest 1: Become a Senior Member of the Art Society Side Quest 2: Complete all emotional paintings with masterpiece quality

Optional: Home: Brindleton Bay Degree: Fine Arts: Master of the Real

Generation R: Politician

Traits: Ambitious, Hates Children Aspiration: The Curator Collection: Fossils Side Quest 1: Become a Senior Member of the Debate Guild and win at a Debate Showdown Side Quest 2: Complete the Mansion Baron Aspiration

Optional: Home: Newcrest Degree: History: Politics

Generation S: Salaryperson

Traits: Proper, Loyal Aspiration: Mt. Komorebi Sightseer Collection: Simmies Side Quest 1: Befriend Yamachan Side Quest 2: Complete the Soulmate Aspiration

Optional: Home: Mt. Komorebi Degree: Computer Science: Expert

Generation T: Scientist

Traits: Genius, Slob Aspiration: Academic Collection: Geodes Side Quest 1: Become a Senior Member of The Brainiacs Side Quest 2: Create all the serums from The Chemistry Lab

Optional: Home: Britechester Degree: Physics: Scientist

Generation U: Secret Agent

Traits: Childish, Erratic Aspiration: Chief of Mischief Collection: Voidcritters Side Quest 1: Become a Senior Member of the Secret Society Side Quest 2: Have a secret baby with Father Winter

Optional: Home: Windenburg Degree: Villainy: Villain

Generation V: Self-Employed

Traits: Noncommittal, Good Aspiration: Freelance Botanist Collection: Gardening, Magic Beans Side Quest 1: Purchase 6 Retail Perks that unlock items (Placard: My First Simoleon, Provocative Pedestal, Stunning Sign, Snazzy Shirt, Register of Tomorrow, Placard: Fobbs 500) Side Quest 2: Complete the Lord/Lady of the Knits Aspiration

Optional: Home: Magnolia Promenade Degree: Communications: Management

Generation W: Social Media

Traits: Self-Absorbed, Goofball Aspiration: World-Famous Celebrity Collection: Positivity Posters (Buy them from a pre-made retail lot) Side Quest 1: Max the Media Production Skill Side Quest 2: Max the Dancing skill

Optional: Home: Del Sol Valley Degree: Drama: Internet Personality

Generation X: Style Influencer

Traits: Outgoing, Child of the Ocean Aspiration: Friend of the World Collection: Seashells Side Quest 1: Become a Senior Member of the Britechester Spirit Corps Side Quest 2: Max friendship with a dolphin

Optional: Home: Sulani Degree: Fine Arts: Stylist

Generation Y: Tech Guru

Traits: Loner, Dog Lover Aspiration: Computer Whiz Collection: Elements Side Quest 1: Reach the top of the eSports Competitor career in University Side Quest 2: Max the Pet training skill

Optional: Home: Britechester Degree: Computer Science: Start-Up Entrepreneur

Generation Z: Writer

Traits: Bookworm, Lazy Aspiration: Bestselling Author Collection: Postcards Side Quest 1: Write the Book of life Side Quest 2: Complete the Grilled Cheese Aspiration

Optional: Home: San Myshuno Degree: Language and Literature: Author

#sims 4 legacy #sims 4 generations #legacy challenge #the sims 4 #chellescripts #sims 4 challenge #sims #sims 4 #ts4 #career legacy #career legacy challenge

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