Tumgik
#disney character tattoos
twstbookclub · 2 months
Text
Inked Blossoms
Summary: Jamil didn't think much of you when he received a flower basket. You were his new neighbor running a flower shop—nothing more, nothing less. So, why can't he stop coming by after visiting you once? POV: 2nd Person Pronouns: Gender-neutral Admin/Writer: Cressa🦋 Tags: Tattoo Artist x Florist AU, Tattoo Artist!Jamil, Florist!Reader, Fluff, Romance, Angst, No happy ending, sorry folks, Mentions of Blood and Self-harm, Use of Flower Language, Jamil's POV Word Count: 4, 025 Main Reference for Flower Meanings: Boeckmann, C. (2023, November 17). What does each flower symbolize? The Old Farmer's Almanac.
And I thought the Riddle fic I wrote is my longest one 💀 I actually had this plot in mind in the same month as I thought of the Riddle fic, which was back in April of last year. I only put in one link here, but I fact-checked every flower I used in this fic with other sources. Admittedly, when I wrote this, I received some heartbreaking news that morning and I cried my eyes out. I may or may not have projected those feelings into this and incorporated my previous experiences here. To all the Jamil stans, I'm so sorry that my first fic of this guy is long and angsty. I hope you all enjoy, though 💕
Tumblr media
Jamil stared at the flowers on his parlor’s doorstep. Pink peonies and coral roses filled the twine basket, along with a purple flower that he didn’t know the name of. The arrangement emphasized the purple flowers, while there were a few peonies mixed in with the roses. What piqued Jamil’s curiosity were the leaves that lined the edges of the basket. He squinted, subconsciously leaning down to peer at the blooms at his feet.
“... Is that basil?” He mumbled, confused about the inclusion of a familiar herb. It was something he often used in his cooking, particularly when he was roommates with Kalim back in high school. That boy’s palate was too refined for anything bland and ready-made, so Jamil always had to cook with spices and herbs. It came to the point that the smell stuck to his clothes, even after a thorough wash in the laundry. Not just his clothes—even his hair. He already had a meticulous process with his hair care and bejeweled braids, so it was a nuisance.
He shook his head, before he took the flower basket in his hands. The blooms jostled a little, and a gentle hand pushed a peony back in place. Something nagged at Jamil to look to the left, for some reason. When he turned his head, the sign of the shop next door caught his attention.
“A flower shop, huh.” That was new. Jamil vaguely remembered this lot being sold recently, but he never thought it’d be turned into a store like that. It used to be an antique store owned by an elderly woman. She minded her own business, despite the weird and judgmental looks he received for the henna tattoos that decorated Jamil’s tan hands and arms.
Jamil’s eyes darted from the cursive letters of the sign to the flowers and plants displayed behind the glass walls. The name of the shop was painted on one of the walls in gold—above some of the artful arrangements of red roses, white carnations, and calla lilies. There was a shift of color behind them, and he narrowed his eyes again for a better look.
Someone was tending to the flowers. He could vaguely make out the color of their hair and the verdant apron over a white polo shirt. With the large bouquets in the way, Jamil couldn’t see a face. Sighing and shaking his head, he walked into his tattoo parlor with the flower basket in his arms.
If all his time in the city taught him anything, it was that nothing in this world was free.
Still, Jamil couldn’t help but wonder what the purple flowers were. They reminded him of tulips, but the petals were thinner and pointed at the tips. The stamen was visible, too. It was a stark contrast to the blooming tulips he knew: blunt-tipped and oval petals without the stamen being visible. He made a mental note to search about them once he went home.
Jamil found out that the purple blooms were called crocuses, and he wound up finding a website detailing the meanings of every flower imaginable. The flowers replaced the lamp that used to be on the table next to his bed. Every morning, he’d wake up to the colorful arrangement in a vase with his mind stuck on the meaning of each flower.
Maybe he should see what the florist was like. If they were like the antique shop owner from before, then Jamil would just remain polite and ignore them whenever he could.
On a slow and quiet day in the parlor, Jamil flipped the sign and locked the door. He shoved the key in his pocket, while his eyes drifted to the flower displays and bouquets through the glass walls. A blur of white and green moved behind them, but he still couldn’t put a face to the florist.
Jamil would have to see if he was curious enough to put a name to that face, too.
A chime echoed in the store once he stepped inside, and an onslaught of fragrance hit him. He noted that it wasn’t as powerful as the smell of spices, ones that he can taste from the scent alone. Still, it was strong enough to leave him a little lightheaded.
“Ah, welcome!” A voice rang through the back, behind an open door that led to what Jamil assumed was a small greenhouse. Sacks of fertilizer and clay pots filled with flowers peeked out of the metal shelves. The sight was obscured by a green apron, stitched with the same cursive letters of the store sign.
Charcoal gray eyes met lively, cheerful ones. The gloved hands that gripped the door frame were smeared with soil, maybe even fertilizer. Dirt smudged your cheek, but his gaze drifted to your lips. Your smile—too bright to be natural—was difficult to look away from. Something churned in his chest the longer he looked at it.
“Oh,” you mumbled, which made Jamil look back into your eyes again, “you’re my next-door neighbor. Hi! I hope you like the flowers. I’m, uh…”
A sheepish chuckle left your lips, making Jamil’s heart lurch. He resisted the urge to scowl at the feeling. He just met you, and he’d rather not make a bad impression. The tattoo artist came to your store to meet you like a proper neighbor, not to antagonize you.
“I came by to say hi, and you weren’t there. I had to get the shop ready and all, so I decided to leave the basket and hope that it stays there—” You sighed, took off one of your gloves, and ran a hand through your hair— “and I’m rambling. Sorry about that.”
Jamil watched you, anxious and fidgety, and he suppressed a smile. There was something amusing about how you acted like a mouse: squeaking and retreating at any sign of danger. Although, he highly doubted that you saw him as a threat.
You were just… shy. You talked a lot, but you were shy.
“It’s fine,” Jamil raised a hand and smiled, practiced and polite, “and I appreciate the flowers. Thank you. It’s a beautiful arrangement—you have a way with bringing out their natural beauty.”
He probably laid it on too thick. It was a habit at this point: butter up people to ease them, to let their guard down. Jamil merely planned to meet this florist to satisfy his curiosity. He never considered the option of befriending this person, much less engaging in a long conversation with you.
Your face lit up, as if something dawned on you in that moment. Chuckling, you stretched out the hand without the glove and gave him your name. It was followed with a cheerful, “It’s nice to meet you! I hope we can get along, um…”
“Jamil,” he shook your hand with that same, practiced smile, “Jamil Viper. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
He noticed your eyes dart towards his hand and arm, inked with the traditional motifs and patterns of his homeland. Under the sunlight that streamed through the glass, your eyes seemed to sparkle. Your mouth parted in a silent, “Oh.”
“That’s so pretty,” you blurted out and continued to stare at the henna tattoos. Jamil simply watched you with wide eyes, but the surprise disappeared in that same instant. Your voice, loud and happy, filled the silence of the room.
“The amount of detail here is amazing, and—Oh, there’s even more tiny patterns inside another pattern. That’s so cool!”
Even though this much praise usually annoyed Jamil (it reminded him too much of Kalim), he found himself flustered. A faint warmth spread across his cheeks as he watched you marvel at the tattoos. You raised a hand, probably to trace the design with a finger, when you paused.
Your smile was frozen on your face, as if you caught yourself doing something embarrassing. Your own cheeks flushed in shame, before you pulled away with a nervous giggle. Jamil almost laughed at how ridiculous you looked at the moment.
He ignored the small voice in the back of his mind that called you cute.
It was supposed to be a one-time encounter. Jamil only visited your flower shop to see the person who opened a new business next to his tattoo parlor. He wanted to see whether this new neighbor of his was going to be tolerable or otherwise. One meeting was enough to deem you tolerable; someone that Jamil could politely wave to if you two happened to pass by each other.
So, why was he looking at a bouquet of irises and white jasmines right now? Why was he standing in your store on a Sunday morning?
“You’ve been coming a lot here lately.” Your voice rang from the back, much like how Jamil first met you. He looked over his shoulder to see you admiring the other flowers with a small smile.
“I don’t mind, really, and it’s nice to have you here. I just didn’t expect you to come here almost every day,” you clarified with a chuckle as you approached him. The telltale flush of your cheeks already told Jamil about how embarrassed you were to confess that. He watched you caress one of the petals of a hydrangea with a gentle look.
For a weekend, it was surprisingly quiet here. People flocked to your store during its first week, and Jamil observed all this in the comfort of his parlor. The window provided a clear view of what was going on, so he didn’t need to go outside. You became frazzled in a matter of moments—running around and arranging the flowers yourself—and that amused Jamil. Just a bit.
Still, you smiled throughout that hectic week.
Me neither, Jamil wanted to say. Instead, he answered, “It’s another slow day in my shop, so I decided to visit. I suppose it’s become a habit whenever I have nothing else to do.”
You chuckled, and Jamil pretended his heart didn’t skip a beat. He ignored the twitch of his lips, curling into a small smile. Oblivious to the look the tattoo artist gave you, you continued to admire the flowers.
“That’s fine with me. Besides, I like your company.”
Your shameless honesty was going to be the death of Jamil. The tips of his ears grew warm, and he tugged his hood over them. He already concluded that you were a thoughtful and considerate person after spending some time with you. You prepared tea and cookies, ones you yourself baked, every time he visited. Careful hands arranged the flowers by meaning and color, which already said enough about you. Being a florist sounded just right for someone like you.
Jamil briefly wondered what flowers you’d give him if you wanted to give him a bouquet.
He cleared his throat, mimicking a cough, before he shifted his attention to the irises and jasmines again. Ever since he searched the meanings of the flowers in that basket, he couldn’t help but be curious.
“Can you tell me what these mean in flower language?” He asked, glancing at you from behind his hood. Whether you found this action odd or not, you didn’t comment on it.
With a curious hum, you leaned over to look at what Jamil referred to and smiled wider. You replied, “Ah, irises can mean wisdom, faith, trust, valor, and hope. As for white jasmines…”
You raised an eyebrow at Jamil with a mischievous grin. He didn’t dare entertain the thought that you were being adorable from the action alone. He didn’t dare hope that the gesture actually meant something.
“They can mean sweet love, and the person who receives them is seen as friendly and pleasant.” You paused, before you suddenly left Jamil’s side and reached for the adjacent wall of flowers. Before Jamil could say anything, you already extended a white bloom under his nose.
Wide-eyed and bewildered, he stared at the flower in your hand. It somewhat resembled a rose in full bloom, but the petals were shaped differently. Another amused laugh echoed in the room. You took his hand, inked with intricate patterns that crawled his skin like vines, and placed the flower in it.
Jamil realized that it was a gardenia. This species of flora grew in some part of the botanical garden of his high school. He was only familiar with it because he used to pass by the area to relax, preferably alone.
“I think this suits you, though.” You hummed and returned to the counter with a spin of your heel. Jamil watched you wordlessly as you disappeared into the greenhouse. From where he stood, the tattoo artist saw pink and white camellias peeking through one of the shelves. He nearly jumped when your head popped out of the door frame.
“Oh, and can you help me carry some of these pots around? They’re pretty heavy, thanks!”
It was only until Jamil got home that he searched for the meaning of the gardenia. The bright laptop screen glared at him as he entered the keywords in the search bar. He clicked on the first result and—
Jamil stared at the words with darkening cheeks. His mouth became dry, and his tongue was tied into knots. His hand slammed the monitor shut, before he abruptly stood up and left for the kitchen. He needed some water. He needed to not think too much into things. You were going to be the death of him, Jamil swore to that.
Still, the words were already seared into his memory: you’re lovely.
Jamil found himself visiting you whenever he could. You always asked for his help whenever heavy labor was involved. If it was anyone else, he would’ve felt annoyed. With you, it was just an excuse for Jamil to stay longer.
Fleeting touches, subtle glances, and shy smiles—it was like your own language. Not a single word was exchanged, yet it felt like you said more than Jamil could comprehend. He didn’t miss the moments when your hands lingered too long over his. He would be a fool not to notice that a cookie jar and a box of teabags sat on the counter each time he visited.
For the past year, you’d give him a single flower every day without fail. One time, after the usual tea, it was a morning glory. Another time, when you were particularly homesick and Jamil stayed to chat, you gave him a hydrangea. When he visited your house and took care of you when you became sick, you gave him a yellow lily the next day. He always brought them home, but it came to the point that a mishmash of flowers in a vase brought color and life to his workspace. It sat under the window, where it bathed under a patch of sunlight. He even considered buying another vase due to the sheer amount.
You gave him all kinds of flowers, but he’d never forget the first gardenia he received from you.
“That looks out of place,” one customer pointed out while Jamil prepared the needle. He already knew what he was talking about, but the tattoo artist still followed his line of sight. A soft smile stretched from one ear to the other, and he didn’t bother hiding it.
Without looking away from the flowers, he answered, “They’re gifts from a friend. It’s the only place I can think of where they can be cared for.”
He ignored the sly, knowing grin on the customer’s face. Suppressing the urge to roll his eyes, Jamil gestured towards the chair and continued to prepare everything he needed for this job.
One sunny day, your storefront was crowded more than usual. Jamil paid no mind to the crowd as he pulled his hood over his head. Inked hands grabbed a bundle of flowers, tied with twine, from the table. They were placed far from the vases that decorated the parlor; just to avoid confusion. His eyes fell on the gardenia he drew on the back of his hand. Jamil added that some time ago, maybe around the past month. Still, it made him smile.
Jamil locked the door, then he instinctively looked at the flower shop. His heart stuttered at the sight of the flowers amongst the crowd. The vibrant and lively blossoms were like a splash of color against the dull tones of the city. What used to be gray pavement and monochrome buildings seemed to come to life with just a few flowers.
He blinked his surprise away, before he gripped the bouquet in his hands. The thrum of his heart and the sweat on his palms weren’t something foreign to Jamil. He always felt like this at the thought of you, even Kalim noticed the change in his friend when he visited once. Your smile flashed in his mind, and his own lips curled into a small one. His feet led him to where he knew you were.
Past the flower shop; past the crowd that lingered at the storefront; past the fresh flowers that gathered against the glass walls. Jamil’s feet grew heavier with each step, as if lead hit the concrete and left faint cracks behind. He stepped through the iron-wrought gates with a soft exhale. His grip on the flowers tightened. He considered going back to the tattoo parlor.
In the end, he thought he’d regret it if he backed out now. Blades of grass grazed his sneakers as he walked through rows of stones. Names were etched into each one, a reminder of who they were to the loved ones left behind. Charcoal gray eyes looked straight ahead. He didn’t bother looking at any of them.
It had been a year since that day, but he still remembered where you were.
Grass crunched under his feet as he stopped in front of an unassuming headstone. Engraved in the stone was your name—funny how he never knew your surname until the funeral. You never told him when you introduced yourself, and he didn’t pry. He even imagined you with his surname at some point, but…
Jamil swallowed the lump in his throat. He crouched on one knee and laid the bundle of flowers on your grave. The tattoo artist made the effort of arranging the colorful blooms in a way that you would. At least, how he remembered that you would.
He stood with his hands in his pockets, and he stared at your gravestone with that same lump in his throat. A sigh rang in the empty cemetery. A cool breeze carried the hustle and bustle of the city. The laugh that used to plague Jamil’s everyday life here was missing. It was gone for months now, but he could still hear it clearly in his head.
“Hey,” Jamil mumbled, clenching his hands into fists, “it’s been a while. I’m sorry I only visited today. It… took me some time to come to terms with what happened. Regardless, you deserved an earlier visit.”
No answer, Of course, there was no answer. You’ve been dead for quite some time now. That was an understatement, considering that a year has already passed.
Jamil’s stomach churned, and an insufferable heat filled his chest. His eyes stung. His nails pierced into the skin of his palms. The lump in his throat seemed to grow bigger, and he found it hard to breathe. Memories of your smile, your laugh, and the time he spent with you and your flowers overlapped in his mind.
He dug his heels into the dirt as he gritted his teeth. The sting behind his eyes grew worse. It was hard to breathe, and he found it harder to speak. He somehow forced the words out with a broken heart, pieces scattered along the ashes of what was left of you.
“You idiot,” Jamil choked out as his vision blurred with tears, “you could’ve called me to help you. How was I supposed to know you were still sick? How was I supposed to know you needed to carry that ridiculously huge flower display across the street? How was I supposed to know that car would lose control and—”
Jamil looked up to the sky with a clenched jaw, teeth clacking and shaking his skull from the force. He wanted to scream. He wanted to curse whatever deity existed in this world. He wanted to forget how you looked, pale and bleeding on the street, that day. He wanted to erase that memory of you until his heart bled out and his voice croaked its last scream.
“—they haven’t found the driver. Everyone who knew you petitioned to keep the shop in your memory. Someone else took over, too. You don’t have to worry about your flowers anymore.”
Since that day, whenever Jamil looked at the ink that adorned his hands and arms, all he remembered was your loud voice and bright smile. Your praise and astonishment echoed in his head like a broken record player. He couldn’t count the amount of times he tried to scrub them clean from his skin. If that didn’t work, he scratched at them until he bled and the patterns were hidden under that shade of red.
In hindsight, Jamil thought that was idiotic of him. Love turned anyone into idiots, anyway.
Sighing, Jamil forced the tears back and looked down at your gravestone. If he tried hard enough, he could imagine you smiling and laughing again. The image of you, lifeless and still on the road, would become a scar that faded with time. He hoped it would be.
“I thought of giving you baby’s breath,” Jamil began as the lump in his throat returned, “along with forget-me-nots, and blue salvia. It would be a horrible contrast, but I also thought of adding pink carnations.”
He paused, before bitterly chuckling to himself. “I don’t have your skills, though. You were always amazing with flower arrangements. I couldn’t hold a candle to you, and I rarely tell anyone that. I didn’t want to give you something that was less than perfect—you deserve more than that, so I settled with sweet peas.”
Jamil knew he was talking to himself. He always found it ridiculous how anyone talked to the dead, even if he understood the necessity to respect the ones who passed. This one time, he understood why people did this. Jamil just couldn’t bring himself to accept the circumstances that led to that revelation.
“They mean goodbye in flower language, but I prefer the other meaning. Maybe, in another life, I would’ve bought you flowers for a date. I was thinking of asking you on a date before. Did you know that?”
Another bitter chuckle. Another shaky breath.
“I was supposed to ask you that day. I finally found the courage to try, and what did I see? You…” The words were stuck in Jamil’s throat. He couldn’t force the words out this time. The clamor outside and the harsh slam of his parlor door echoed in his memories. He didn’t want his last memory of you to be your dying breath. He’d rather not remember that at all.
Jamil shook his head and continued, “I apologize for that. What you need to know is that I like you. I may even go so far as to say I love you, and I’m sorry I never told you earlier. I hope you can forgive me for that.”
The tattoo artist sat down in front of your headstone. He didn’t care if dirt and grass stained his jeans this time. He reached out to trace the name etched into the stone, with the same hand where the inked gardenia peeked out of his sleeve.
“I like your flowers. I like all of them. I still keep them with me. I wish I told you that sooner,” Jamil mumbled, voice cracking at the end. A tear rolled down his left cheek and dripped into the soil. His shoulders shook in a silent sob as he breathed his last words to you.
“Thank you for a lovely time. I’ll never forget you.”
91 notes · View notes
siphoklansan · 1 year
Text
Tumblr media
300 Followers Milestone Celebration🎉
Introducing…
Tumblr media Tumblr media
꧁𝐀𝐧𝐚𝐧 𝐀𝐭𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐤𝗼𝐫𝐧𝗺𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐚꧂
อนันต์ อัฏฐกรเมธา
“A young man from a fallen kingdom, his name strikes fear into many hearts.”
Height : 186 cm.
Birthday : October 8th
Age: 18
Homeland : East of Scalding Sands
Best Subject : Astrology
Club: Magical Shift club
Talents: Knowledgeable in astrology and fortune telling, Skilled with archery
Hobby: Crochet, Weaving silk
Likes: Animals, chrysanthemum tea, supernaturals
Dislikes: Misunderstandings
Favorite Food: Street Food
Least Favorite food: pomegranates
꧁𝐔𝐧𝐢𝐪𝐮𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐜 & 𝐀𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬꧂
"𝐄𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐁𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞" The ability to reverse a person’s (or multiple) movements and objects’ movement/form. The length of how far back he can reverse is unknown, but he usually only goes back to 10 seconds. The longer he reverses, the more stamina it takes.
𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐒𝐤𝐢𝐧 : Warriors are adorned with talisman (tattoos) , giving wearers resistance to black magic and blot. And also some resistance to normal physical damage (ex. a normal blade, a bullet)
𝐒𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 : Anan is from a blood line directly from The King of Yakshas. He has an enormous amount of mana, making him a very powerful mage both in magical and physical terms.
꧁𝐅𝐮𝐧 𝐅𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐬 𝐀𝐛𝗼𝐮𝐭 𝐀𝐧𝐚𝐧꧂
His last name : “Atthakornmetha” means a philosopher with skills as if they posses eight arms. Strange, right?
Anan is inspired by a character from a literature called Ramakien (รามเกียรต์). It is a Thai version of Ramayana (just in case this rings a bell to anyone). The character Anan is inspired by is….*drumroll please!* Thotsakan! Bro is the antagonist of the story and has TWENTY ARMS AND TEN FACES…WHAT-
Thotsakan has the ability to remove his heart. He stores it in a box far away from him, so he’s technically immortal. But if he’s near the box, the heart returns to him so he’s not immortal anymore. I initially planned this to be Anan’s Unique Magic, but man, it’s too op like😭 Bro can rival Malleus and I don’t want to make a very OP character. Weaknesses are good!
Adding on to the previous paragraph, the information about Thotsakan’s ability will have something to do with his backstory…stay tuned >:-)
My best friend helped me design Anan. She’s amazing at art and very creative too!
My sister also helped me with some headcanons for him AND his unique magic!<3
I have a lot to work on with Anan, at first, his personality is similar to Malleus. It was difficult to put my finger on something unique for him.
Screaming crying throwing up on whether or not I should create a new dorm for my OCs or shove them into one of the seven dorms. Thing is I already designed a unique dorm uniform for them </3 so for now, Anan will be wearing an orange vest. I’ll edit this post later if I changed my mind!
꧁𝐀𝐛𝗼𝐮𝐭 𝐀𝐧𝐚𝐧꧂
Anan really likes animals, especially small and cute ones like rabbits and hamsters. But animals occasionally run away from him. They’re scared of my boi :(
Anan is the type of friend to always look out for you. When you bend down near a table, his hand will cover the edge of the table so you don’t get hurt. Bro always saves a seat for you during lunch time. Bro remembers your birthday too.
He…has an RBF. He’s very friendly, but he just looks intimidating/angry all the time.
He’s also the type to carry a small pouch around with essential items inside. Your lips are chapped? Say no more, he got chu. Need some mints? Here you go, m’lord/lady. Your nails are dirty? Here’s a nail clipper-
Anan is not afraid to show affection. He will show you that he cares, public or private. He’s always there if you need something, and not in a suffocating way either. Despite his intimidating aura (and looks) if you manage (somehow) to relax and let your guard down, he doesn’t seem so intimidating anymore. And it’s quite relaxing.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR 300+ FOLLOWERS💗 I’m so happy I get to share my art on tumblr, in a wonderful community and have people enjoying my silly little art! I’d love to interact with everybody so don’t be shy to ask some questions or barge into my askbox! Thank you again~
Lmk if you have any questions or headcanons about Anan, I’d love to hear them🫶
Tumblr media
183 notes · View notes
anonymoushuman2 · 2 years
Photo
Tumblr media
Slight redesign of both harry and Carlos and a cute bit of fanart. Enjoy. 
145 notes · View notes
update: back on my bullshit
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
33 notes · View notes
azural83 · 1 year
Text
The moana show is the perfect chance for them to finally give her tattoos just saying
22 notes · View notes
thisisalexheart · 1 year
Text
Tumblr media
Abu from Aladdin 🥰
13 notes · View notes
hannahhook7744 · 2 years
Text
Hannah Hook tattoos and their meanings;
Tumblr media
Summary; Despite not even being 16 yet, Hannah Hook has a multitude of tattoos. Mainly due to being raised by pirates and ok the isle.
🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️🏴‍☠️
Present tattoos, their locations, and their meanings;
She has a wrist tattoo on her right arm; it's a skull & crossbones tattoo with a sword running through it and the quote 'Family doesn't (top) end in blood (bottom)' surrounding it. It's a tattoo everyone in her crew has that she, Skia, and Luke came up with.
She has a hooked cane tattoo on her left shoulder. It represents her adoptive grandmother, Mama Hook.
She has a small Hook and wings tattoo on her right shoulder to represent her adoptive parents.
She has a crocodile tattoo on her back left shoulder blade to represent Harriet. As well as a flower compass for Ginny.
And a sword to represent Harry on her right one as well as a rope for Cj.
On her left wrist, she has a pair of three skulls tattoo to represent her, Skia, and Luke's friendship. One is on fire, one has a black cat on its' head, and one has a hook necklace on its' head.
These are all the tattoos she has and she has them all in places she can cover up/show off. She also plans to get a tattoo of Cassandrium to represent her bio mom and a potions bottle to represent her bio dad.
8 notes · View notes
rodentsunite · 2 years
Text
I remember when Twisted Wonderland was announced and anime TikTok was going wild over this guy
Tumblr media
Then absolute radio silence
2 notes · View notes
worldtattooportal · 2 years
Link
Amazing Peter Pan Tattoo Designs with Meanings, Ideas, and Celebrities
https://worldtattooportal.com/peter-pan-tattoo/
1 note · View note
rookthorne · 7 months
Text
⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐈𝐧𝐤
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Fairy Tales and stories always had one ending, that the prince would find his princess and all would be well; a masterful, happily ever after. You had never believed that would be you, not in your wildest dreams. Until the day that two knights in inked armour walked through the door of your castle and made themselves at home in your heart.
Tumblr media
჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𖠺 Tattoo Artist!CW!Bucky Barnes x Florist!F!Reader x Tattoo Artist!Nomad!Steve Rogers
჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 𖠺 6.7k
჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𖠺 Fluff, light show of dom/sub
჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 𖠺 I sincerely blame my hype squad for this, but a very special thank you to SC for her genius mind for helping me build this world, and to @sebstanwhore for putting up with my screaming about it constantly. 𖠺 This is officially my longest published fic as of September 2023!
჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒔 𖠺 So This Is Love by Ilene Woods, Mike Douglas 𖠺 I See The Light by Mandy Moore, Zachary Levi
჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒂 𖠺 @smutconnoisseur
Tumblr media
჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔 𖠺 @stuckybingo 𝗚𝟰 — Tattoo Shop AU (September Adoptable) — Masterlist 𖠺 @allcapsbingo 𝗕𝟰 — Old Married Couple — Masterlist 𖠺 @anyfandomfluffbingo 𝗕𝟭 — Florist AU — Masterlist 𖠺 @mcukinkbingo 𝗚𝟱 — Poly Relationship Negotiation — Masterlist
Tumblr media
𝐆𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐈𝐧𝐤 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
Tumblr media
Sunlight streamed through the window as you stood behind the shop counter. It was a bright, clear day, and the possibilities that a new day could bring excited you. 
The perfume of freshly bloomed buds and bouquets filled your senses, each petal of the flowers that surrounded you just as pretty as the last. Walking into the place you built from the ground up since botany had run in your blood for generations. The love for floristry, specifically, had been passed down from your mother, then her mother before her, and her mother before her. 
As a child, with their guidance, you grew up with such kindness and compassion for all flora and fauna, and you were an avid daydreamer. 
Your daydreams of fairy tales, of wonder and love through the petals and veins of the ages, was how you came to affectionately name your haven and shop Fantasy Floristry. 
Lanterns softly lit the way between the rows of bouquets and arrangements in the shadier corners of your store, and the walls, which were devoid of shelves with bouquets, were covered with pencil drawings of fantasy creatures and characters from many Disney movies – all signed by a local artist. That of which, was you. 
It was a slow morning, customers sparse and fairly few between. Which, in itself, was never unusual, and afforded you the opportunity to potter about. Each bud you passed had a loving caress and gentle touch before they were spritzed with a soft spray of water, and you hummed along to the music playing over the speakers, a classic, timeless Disney tune.
You smiled as you looked upon the shelves fit to burst with blooms – each bunch set to a theme of a movie. Red and yellow matched with a brown ribbon for Simba and his mane, black and white with a red ribbon for Patch and his collar, and your most popular theme, one for Rapunzel; purple and yellow, with a gold ribbon to tie it in. 
The chime of the doorbell sounded at the front of the store, and you looked up just in time to see your best friend and employee walk in, steaming to-go cups in hand. “Late again,” you scolded, and she smiled sheepishly. 
“I brought us coffees to make up for it, darling,” Wanda simpered, holding out one of the coffees and a small brown bag. “And I bought you a bagel. Don’t say I never do anything for you.”
You rolled your eyes and took the coffee. “Thanks, Wands.”
“I’ll be out back,” Wanda called as she strode to the cool room. “See you later!” 
Things progressed as usual after that – customers came and went with bright smiles as they left with small or big bouquets. 
You were behind the counter working away on the store’s social media when the bell chimed loudly, followed by two sets of heavy footfalls and low voices. “She’s off with Ma, you know that, punk,” one of them said, almost as though they were exasperated. “It’ll be nice for them to come back to something, don’t you think?”
“Alright, alright,” the other voice replied placatingly. The door closed behind the newcomers with another chime, and their boots thumped quietly over the tiled floor. “Which do you think- Oh, wow. They’re beautiful.”
You looked up from your phone just in time to see two men approaching, only they had stopped at the Rapunzel and Simba bouquets, the blond one of the two pointing at the purple roses and yellow lilies. His other hand… was holding the other’s – interlocked so their tattoos aligned, and a wedding band shone brightly on his ring finger. 
They were beautiful – far more so than any bouquet you could imagine or conjure. The blond was broad and lithe, his long hair swept back and beard neatly trimmed. A black plaid shirt covered his frame, and the top two buttons were undone, revealing coloured ink creeping up his collarbones. A bright, intricate yellow sunflower was tattooed along the contours of his neck, from the back to the front of the pale skin.
It seemed to match the other man’s, who, in place of a sunflower, had a bunch of purple daisies arranged in a loosely assembled heart. His hair was dark and long, down to the top of his shoulders, and he was bigger, broader than the blond man, though they stood at the same height. His skin was covered in ink – visible under the rolled up sleeves and open collar of his navy henley. 
“Oh, lord,” you whispered, blinking rapidly to try and discern if you were dreaming. 
You were, in fact, not dreaming. 
The dark-haired man looked up at the counter and sent you a charming grin, pointing at the flowers himself. “Did you do these?” 
Don’t make a fool of yourself, you chastised silently. “Yeah, they–yeah, I did them,” you stammered in reply. 
“They’re stunning,” the blond offered, awestruck. “You’ve done an amazing job, doll.”
The two men walked to the counter, hands still interlocked as they neared, and you gulped – they were married, keep it together. 
“I’m Steve,” the blond said happily, holding his hand out to shake, which you accepted politely, with an added bonus of being able to look at his tattoos. “And this is my husband, Bucky.” He pointed at the dark-haired man who also offered his hand, only he brought it to his lips and kissed your knuckles – just like a prince would. Your stomach and heart swooped at the gesture when Steve continued, “We own the tattoo shop next door.”
“Oh!” you chirped, immediately cringing internally. You offered your name, then, “I’ve seen the art in the windows, and it’s all so beautiful. Have you been here long? I know I’ve only recently set up shop, but business has been so busy I haven’t had a chance to come and say hello.”
Bucky grinned. “Too long, we would say,” he chuckled and glanced at Steve. “We saw you set up shop back when you moved in, and I have to say, we were very intrigued.” Both men looked around your store before their focus was back on you. “It’s a beautiful set up, nice ‘n cosy.”
“Thank you,” you whispered, shy but proud. 
Steve smirked and nodded to the display of Rapunzel flowers. “What would a professional recommend for two hovering mother hens–just to remind them that we love ‘em.”
“Oh, that is so sweet,” you rushed before you could clamp your jaw shut, and Bucky snorted. “What? What’s so wrong with that?”
“Nothing,” Bucky rushed, still grinning. “It’s just–if you met them, you wouldn’t be saying that.”
A loud smack sounded as Steve slapped Bucky’s shoulder and shoved him away. “Stop being such an ungrateful son, honey,” he teased as Bucky rolled his eyes. 
“Anyway,” you said haltingly, making your way around the counter. More to yourself, you mumbled, “You can do this, it’s fine, they’re just handsome men, keep it together.” 
Coming to a stop at the far corner, you stopped and watched both of them as they bickered, much like an old married couple, “You know Ma would like that more. She likes teddies and shit-” Bucky emphasised, but Steve raised a brow. 
“You’re telling me that you want to shell out for a damn bear–well, aren’t you son of the year,” Steve teased, staring at the shelf full of small, soft stuffies. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt.”
“Oh, now he agrees with me-” Bucky was cut off by Steve’s hand, who covered his mouth and held his thumb under his chin to keep his mouth shut. The display made your lips part in surprise, though it went unnoticed. Bucky’s brows furrowed, and it looked as though he was pouting. You made out a muffled but determined huff of, “Lemme go.”
“Do as you’re told then, boy,” Steve whispered harshly. 
Internally, you were screaming at the show of intimacy – albeit restrained, and you couldn’t help the shiver that crawled up your spine at the sound of Steve’s command. You shook your head and cleared your throat to get their attention. 
Both of their gazes snapped towards you as though they had forgotten where they were. “D-Do you still want–want help?” you stuttered. 
“Yes, please, doll,” Steve said happily, and he wandered over. Bucky followed soon after and rested his chin on Steve’s shoulder, wrapping his arms from behind – the creak of leather made you look down to see Bucky on his toes to have the slight height advantage. 
You realised a second too late that you were still staring at them because they chuckled and winked at you when you glanced back up at their faces.  
A sudden shyness blanketed your mind at their undivided attention, but you pushed through the murky waters of confused intrigue and desire – the latter a shock to your system. “So, we have these, especially for motherly bouquets,” you explained, pointing at the purple, pink, and yellow hues of petals. “Otherwise…”
The tour of the shop was an eventful encounter. Both men were enraptured and entranced by the beauty of the flowers, and each compliment to any arrangement made your heart soar with pride. It was only when you made it back to the Disney themed arrangements did Steve’s eyes light up. 
“Mom would love these,” he breathed, gently brushing the petals of a yellow lily before doing the same to a purple rose. “She loves this movie. It’s a job to convince her to watch anything else.”
You giggled and nodded in agreement. “I have to say it’s one of my favourites, too. So beautiful.”
“Yeah,” Bucky said suddenly, and you looked at him. He was already staring at you. “Really beautiful.”
The humming of Ilene Woods came over the speaker at that moment: “So this is love, so this is what makes life divine.” Steve nodded in agreement and looked at you with a fond smile.
It was surreal, and it was all you could do to hold in a squeak of shock. On autopilot, while you recovered from such an insinuation, you blurted quickly, “I saw the tattoos on your necks. What do they mean? They’re so beautiful, and I adore them.”
“Oh, these?” Bucky pointed at his and then Steve’s, the flower tattoos bright in the sunlight from the window. “My Ma loves purple daisies, loved ‘em since she was young. I always bring her some each time I visit, and since she and Steve’s Mom are best friends, it’s only natural that this punk has to get Sarah some of her own. Don’t want him lookin’ like the bad son, after all.”
Steve shoved Bucky off and sighed heavily. “Yeah, shut it, jerk.” He rubbed at the tattoo, smiling absently. “Mom loves sunflowers. Dad used to get her a bunch every Friday night.”
You smiled softly at his words, feeling the pain of them. “That’s beautiful, Steve.” Bucky’s hand found Steve’s, and you saw him squeeze once. “Would you like two Rapunzel bouquets, then? I can add a sunflower and a daisy to each at no charge–I want to make your mothers smile. They deserve it.”
“Sweetheart, we can’t ask you to do that,” Bucky interjected. Steve hummed an ascension as you grabbed a bouquet. “Seriously. Your arrangements are stunning. We can’t ask for anymore.”
“You’re not asking,” you whispered quietly, looking at the bouquet in your arms. The beat of your heart thundered as you wondered if what you were about to say would spook them off, but their presence had flourished something inside of you – a boisterous and courageous thing. “I am offering, and I want those who leave my shop to be happy, to smile. If I can do that for your mothers too? You bet I will.”
You turned your back and walked towards the counter, entirely missing the look Bucky and Steve shared – one of adoration and affection.
The bouquet sat proudly on the counter as you turned to grab the next one, when you gasped in shock. Bucky had grabbed the second one, while Steve had picked up one of the largest and most expensive arrangements. 
“Oh, Steve! Bucky, wait, I-”
“Nope,” Bucky cut in, and he placed the Rapunzel bouquet down next to the other one. Then he turned to Steve to help him lift the bigger arrangement onto the counter. “How about this–would you make us something for our shop? We want something on the front desk. This big one,” he pointed to the elaborate piece, “is going in our home–away from Alpine.”
“Alpine?” you quizzed. Steve nodded, and Bucky pulled out his phone before turning the screen to you – a photo of a fluffy white cat with piercing blue eyes as his lock screen. “They are beautiful!”
“She’s an attention whore, but she’s our baby,” Bucky said fondly, a small smile on his lips. He looked up at you and that smile morphed into a grin. “Now, how ‘bout it, sweetheart?”
You blinked. “Sorry?”
“The arrangement for our shop, doll,” Steve answered, and you started – how had you forgotten that?
“Right!” you rushed, flustered. They watched you, but their gazes were gentle, almost coaxing. “Sure–I, uh, I can do that for sure. When do you need it by?” Your trusty paper pad and pen felt comforting in your hands, and you looked between them expectantly. 
They shared a look, and then Steve spoke up, “Are you busy now, honey?”
Mentally, you catalogued the tasks for the day. There were no urgent appointments to meet nor any commissions, and Wanda was around… “No, I am–I am free, today, that is.” You cursed the softness of your voice. They’d see your shyness, your absurd ability to become flustered with the slightest push. 
Bucky grinned and then winked. “Perfect, why don’t we take you to the shop? See how quick our clever girl can whip something up.”
By heaven and earth, how you were unprepared for such a statement. Your mouth opened and closed as the words settled in the cogs of your brain, jamming them with the assurance  and praise. 
“That’s a good idea, doll. You can get a sense for the colours and contrasts.” Steve turned to you more fully. “We can walk you back–do you have someone to watch the store…?”
“Yeah–I, there’s-” You squeaked, gesturing over your shoulder. “I’ll just- Um, go get her.”
The back cooler room couldn’t have been further away at that moment. You rushed towards it, arm outstretched when you heard Steve whisper behind you, “She’s so sweet, don’t you think?”
“She is,” Bucky agreed easily. The words made your heart thump, and you didn’t linger, pushing open the door to the blast of the cool back room air.  
“There you are-” Wanda greeted, but she fell short.
You shut the door and rested against it, holding a hand over your hammering heart.
“What the–? Are you alright?” she hurriedly asked, her face pulled taut and brows furrowed. “You look like you’ve… Wait, are you-”
“I need you to watch the shop for me,” you barrelled, breathing deeply in an effort to calm your racing heart. “Please–just look.” The door creaked open to reveal a slither of the front counter where Bucky and Steve stood, conversing and looking around the store. “They want me to make a–a bouquet for their shop, the tattoo–?”
“Oh, babe,” Wanda whispered, pushing the door closed gently. There was an impish smile curling her lips. “Go on, I’ve got this. If you don’t come back tonight, I’ll close up.”
“What do you mean not come back–?” You stared at her, unable to comprehend her secret, double meaning. 
“Don’t you worry, sweet summer child,” she said, winking. “I’ll see you later.”
Before you could protest or question why everyone kept winking at you, Wanda had undone the bow of your apron, whisked it off of your uniform, and forced you out the door ahead of her. 
“There she is!” Bucky called, his signature grin curling his lips. “Are you set to go?”
Wanda stood beside you, her hand on your shoulder, and she surreptitiously pushed you closer to the counter. She had that same coy smirk on her lips. Both Bucky and Steve waved and greeted her. “Just take care of my girl–she’s going to make you the best arrangement,” Wanda said. 
“We will,” Steve assured, and he pulled out his wallet. “I’ll pay for these now, ladies.”
After completing the transaction for the two bouquets and singular larger arrangement, Wanda’s hand found your back, and she forced you forward, closer to Bucky. “See you three later.”
Steve saluted and walked forward, and you followed, your footsteps quick compared to the heavy boot falls of your companions. As you walked behind Steve, Bucky pointed up to a canvas on the wall – a scene painted straight from the movie Tangled, the beautiful soft hues of yellow and gold of the lanterns in the sky. “Who did this?”
“A local artist,” you whispered, glancing between the canvas and Bucky. “She sells her work here–I wanted to help an old friend.”
Bucky stepped closer to the canvas, and by doing so, he stood right next to you. The smell of his cologne and close proximity made your heart skip a beat – even his voice sounded deeper this close. “Whoever she is, she’s very talented. Pass that on for us, yeah?”
“Okay,” you squeaked, and you cleared your throat. “Yeah, I- I will pass that on for you. She would appreciate it.”
“I would be tempted to hire her,” Steve said quietly, voice awestruck. “Her colour work and ability to capture the moment is beautiful. She has a gift.”
Do not faint, you repeated in a mantra.
“Alright, c’mon,” Bucky urged. “Let’s take our Petal to the shop, or we’ll never leave.”
“Petal?” you whispered, and Bucky rested his hand on your lower back, gently encouraging you forward. 
“Yeah, that’s you,” he said softly. “Precious and pretty–jus’ like a petal of a flower.”
The outside air was a reprieve from the stifling tension of your shop, and Steve turned around and looked at you, then Bucky, and he slowed to walk beside you – opposite to Bucky. You were walking between them, and could not calm your heart’s thunderous beat. 
It was a short walk, but nonetheless, it left an impression. People had hastened to move out of your way as you walked between the two men, both brooding and you had guessed intimidating – if the shocked and double-takes of all passers by were anything to go by. 
A dark brick building came into view – black awnings and dark accents made it feel rustic, paired with the striking art on the windows of a star and a set of wings set just below the artistic calligraphy of Quartet’s Tattoo. 
“Here we are,” Steve said, gesturing at the front door. “Come on in, Petal–Buck, babe, you picked a nice one. I love the way it sounds.”
“What?” you sputtered. “I-”
‘Yeah,” Bucky breathed, then slung an arm over your shoulder, pulling you close. His lips were suddenly on your temple, a soft kiss that left you reeling. “I agree.”
The door, artfully carved with more stars and in place of wings were skulls, opened with a creak to reveal a dark and moody waiting area. Wooden beams were visible over the ceiling where lights with black shades hung in increments, and designs were all over the walls, each as intricate as the last. Dark slats of wood lined the floor until they reached an open space towards the back of the shop where you guessed the booths were situated. 
“Take a seat, sweetheart,” Bucky said, pointing to a black leather couch that seated three, a glass table in front of it. “Do you want a drink–?”
“Water, please,” you replied, sitting down. You suspected you’d need something stronger to dull the nerves, but you refrained from mentioning that aloud. “This is beautiful.” 
Art was everywhere, in every nook and cranny. You could see four booths, and managed a peak at the names lining the walls – Steve, ‘Cap’; Bucky, ‘Sarge’; Nat, ‘Widow’; Sam, ‘Falcon’.
“Thanks, doll,” Steve said happily, and he took the seat opposite you. “It’s our pride and joy.”
Bucky appeared with a glass of water and sat on the other end of the couch, tucking his leg up so he could face you. It was silent for a moment as you took the space in. Choices flooded your mind the more you stared around – reds and burgundies to compliment the dark stained wood, but then, whites and yellows would contrast against the deep, rich hues of the mahogany.
You blinked and looked back at Bucky and Steve, only they were already watching you. “Oh, I’m sorry,” you breathed, smiling nervously as you placed the glass of water on a coaster on the table. “I- I was just looking so I could, um, get a feel for the arrangement for you.”
“Oh yeah? And what are you thinking?” Bucky asked, his tone teasing. 
Frowning slightly, deep in thought, you looked around the shop once more before finally settling on the reception desk. 
The wood was stained dark, like the rest of the shop, but the accents of lightened, bleached knots and ridges caught your attention. Whites and yellows would bring that to light, and then, a fiery arrangement for the glass coffee table… “Uh- Well, I have two ideas,” you began. 
Both Bucky and Steve raised their brows, and placed their drinks on the table. Steve leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees and letting his hands fall between his thighs. Bucky, back still against the arm of the couch, leaned against it and put a heavily tattooed arm over the back of it. 
“Let’s hear it then,” Bucky said, his grey eyes bright with curiosity. “What’s our clever girl imagined?”
“Let her talk, Buck,” Steve chastised. 
You took a deep breath and fought against the urge to run and hide – it was strange to feel so safe and attended to by these two strangers, but they had done nothing to warrant suspicion, at least, not that you had thought. 
“Well,” you began, fidgeting in your seat as you nodded to the reception desk. “I thought a lighter arrangement would work. See how the wood is stained dark, but there are lighter streaks and knots?” You pointed at the spots you could see from your vantage point. “Whites and yellows would soften the–I think saturation is the right word?”
There was an affirming hum from one of them, and you continued. “Then it would make the entry feel lighter, as the room feels broody–it isn’t a bad thing,” you rushed to assure, looking at the two men with wide eyes. “The space is beautiful, and I love it–just, some softness might brighten it a bit.”
“Huh, you’re right, doll,” Steve considered, his hand now rubbing his chin as he stared at the desk. “I think we’d do better–maybe attract more clients. What do you think, babe?”
“It would work well, yeah,” Bucky agreed. 
He shifted closer, almost imperceptibly, but your keen, anxious senses saw it immediately. What frightened you more was the fact you were not scared of it. The thought of him being close made your body heat up from some depth that had been untouched. They were married, you intoned. They were married to one another, no less. 
“What would be even better, though,” Bucky continued, his tone impish. “Is if you told us the second idea.”
“Oranges and reds–fiery colours to bring attention to the mahogany wood and dark stain,” you said in one breath. Nerves had started to make your stomach roil and flutter with butterflies. As you stared at your hands while breathing shallowly, a tattooed hand rested over your fingers, effectively stopping your bad habit of picking at the skin. “I-”
“It’s alright, sweetheart,” Bucky said quietly, squeezing your hands. “You’re alright. It’s cute that you're so shy, but trust us, you’re okay. If we are comin’ on too strong for you, we will stop.”
The world stopped. Time froze, your place in the expansive universe suddenly too much to comprehend. “Coming on too strong–?” you asked hoarsely, unable to take in the words. “Are you- You two are flirting with me?”
There was a chuckle from the seat across from you, and you looked at Steve sharply. A bright smile was on his face, one of which conveyed affection, not patronisation. “Yeah, we are, doll. Do you want us to stop?”
You blinked, looked at Bucky, then back to Steve. “But you’re married!”
“We are, happily so,” Bucky said, and he took his hand away. You suddenly missed the warmth of it. “And we know what we want. We were in your shop today for more than just flowers, sweetheart. I wasn’t lying when I said we’ve been curious–a pretty Petal like you, clever and downright beautiful, both generous and kind… Well, we were intrigued.”
The words flushed your system and left you hollow with shock, akin to an overwhelming giddiness. “I don’t understand,” you breathed, staring at Bucky. “You want- What do you want?”
“We want to take you on a date. If you are interested, and want to,” Bucky offered gently. “You can say no, and we won’t think any different of you, don’t you worry ‘bout that. Like hell would we skip on your skills as a florist, and we’d still be friends. If you wanted to be, of course.”
“A date?” 
“A date,” Steve affirmed. “We know polyamorous relationships aren’t everyone’s cup of tea-” 
Bucky snorted a laugh and shook his head. “You sound ridiculous saying that, Stevie.”
“Shut up, punk,” Steve sighed. Then he looked at you again. “As I was saying, yes, it’s not everyone’s favourite. We just- We became smitten with you, doll. So, if you would be interested, we’d like to take you on a date.”
“Oh.” 
The world, still tilted on its axis, started spinning once more, taking your insides with it as it moved. You blinked rapidly, and your hands curled and relaxed on your knees. 
Truly, the offer didn’t scare you, per se. It was the reality shaking thought that not one, but two men found you intriguing enough that they wanted to take you out on a date–a traditional date.
A truly old fashioned notion, you thought. 
Their presence seemed to bring out your reckless, wild side, and you took a deep breath. They said they would still care for you as a friend, even if you said no, and it comforted your heart and screaming, anxious mind. “Okay.”
“Okay?” Bucky asked, brow raised. “Do you want some time-”
“I’ll go on a date with you two,” you interrupted before you could stop yourself. “I would love that.”
Bucky beamed at you while Steve rose from his seat to lean down and kiss the crown of your head. “Perfect, doll. Why don’t you do both of your ideas, and we can pick ‘em up when you’re done?”
Feeling emboldened, you grinned up at Steve and then at Bucky. “I will have them done in a few hours. Walk me back?”
“You heard the lady,” Bucky murmured, his eyes slightly wide at your eagerness. “Someone’s excited to get to work.”
“Well, you have me motivated,” you explained with a shrug and a shy smile. “I won’t let you two down.”
Steve shook his head and helped you up before leading you to the door. “You could never let us down, honey–remember that.” 
The two of them walked you back to your shop, opening and holding the door for you. “Such gentlemen,” you teased quietly. They only winked. 
“There you are,” Wanda called happily as she rounded the counter to greet you. “Have you organised a theme?”
“Two,” you supplied, chipper. Wanda’s brows raised at your enthusiasm. “I’m going to be doing a light arrangement and a fiery toned one, too. It’ll set the colours off nicely, I think.” 
Wanda nodded and grabbed your hand. “You’re the expert,” she said, leading you towards the cooler room. “See you boys later!”
“No, wait,” you rushed, looking back at Steve and Bucky as you pulled away from Wanda’s grip. “Can–can I have your number? So I can text you when they’re done–?”
The smiles on their faces could have made the toughest rose bloom, you swore. Once their numbers were in your phone, they walked from the store, arrangements in hand for their mothers. 
As you worked on the bouquets while Wanda minded the store, you thought long and hard about their proposition. They were grown men. It was not like you were dealing with the decisions and minds of growing boys – marriage was a big deal, and opening it to a stranger was even more risky. Did they truly want to risk all of what they had built? 
Thoughts spiralled, and your mind whirled with all the possibilities – rational thought long cast out of the equation. Until, “You keep pulling a face like that, babe, and it’ll get stuck.”
You looked up to see Wanda standing in the doorway, hair tied up and a soft, kind smile on her face. Her eyes were bright, glinting in the way that told you she knew something was amiss. “What’s got you all tied up, love?”
The stem of the rose was smooth against your fingers, and you considered the thorns that adorned it – helpfully comparing it to your current predicament. “I just, I don’t know. It seems so sudden–doesn’t it? Them just waltzing in here–”
“Hold on.” Wanda glanced back to the store and then stepped into the room, her arms crossed over her chest. “You will not second guess this. I have seen those two make heart eyes at you for the longest time.”
“What do you mean?” you asked, astonished. 
“I meant what I said,” Wanda said a little too easily, and she shrugged. “Have you not seen how those puppies look for you as they walk by the store window almost every single day?”
Your mouth parted in shock. Had they? “No…”
Wanda shook her head slowly, a slow smile pulling the corner of her lips up. It wasn’t a condescending expression, but rather, one of an older sister who cared beyond words for the one they loved. “Babe, you… You have to give this a shot. Give them a chance. I do not know them well, but I know they are kind, and gentle–gentle giants, if you will.” 
A strong feeling of ease settled in your gut and over your mind, cancelling out the cacophony of nerves that screamed and pitched their fits. If Wanda, the one you trusted the most, could see something, maybe, just maybe, it would be worth it. 
You looked at the bouquets before you, one of angelic and pure white to sunny, happy yellow; the other bright, cheerful orange and fiery, passionate red. It was symbolistic of the clash in your mind; resemblances to the possible opportunities. White for the softness of your soul, and reds to Bucky and Steve’s desire. 
“Alright,” you said aloud, voice firm and unwavering. “I’ll do it. I- I want this.”
Wanda grinned, a blindingly prideful smile. “‘Atta girl. Now, get to it!”
A few hours later, as the sun had started to begin its descent, you stood in the back room of your shop filled with awe. The bouquets had turned out perfect – each petal and leaf in place. You snapped a few photos with your phone and then sent a text to Bucky’s number, asking if they would come around after they closed up. 
Your ringtone made you jump in place, and Bucky’s name flashed across the screen. 
“Hey, sweetheart,” Bucky greeted, the low hum of a tattoo machine in the background with the lull of quiet music. “Did you finish the flowers?”
“Yeah, I- I did, do you think you could–?”
There was a huff of breath, a chuckle, and then a sudden yell of “Babe!” before another voice came through the speaker. 
“We’ll be round in about twenty minutes–that okay, doll?” Steve asked.
“That’s perfect,” you replied, looking at the clock. “I’ll be here–I’ll close up, so just knock when you get here.”
“Alright, see you soon.” The line clicked, and you put your phone back in your pocket. 
Closing the shop went quickly, and after you had said goodnight to Wanda, you were on your own in the office, waiting as the minutes went by until you heard a knock on the store’s door. “Coming!” 
Steve and Bucky were waiting on the sidewalk, huddled in coats as they watched you walk to the door. “Hey, come in, come in,” you rushed, stepping aside. “Thank you for coming and picking them up so late.”
“It’s nothin’, sweetheart,” Bucky yawned. “If we’re honest–we wanted to see you before we headed home.”
You smiled and looked at the floor, unable to look him in the eye after such sincerity. There was suddenly a hand gripping your chin gently, and you automatically moved in tandem with it until you were staring into Steve’s handsome face. “That we did.”
Blinking rapidly, you pulled back with a shaky laugh. “Did you guys have a good rest of your day?”
“Yeah,” Steve answered, looking around happily. “Normal shit with walk-ins and then we got started on a back piece. Poor bastard had to tap out.”
“We warned him.” Bucky shrugged. “Not like the poor fool didn’t know what he was gettin’ into. Anyway–how about those flowers?”
You led the two of them to the counter, where you heard two sharp intakes of breath as the arrangements came into view. They were extraordinary, and you had gone above and beyond for them – using flowers and buds that were yet to bloom to fill the spaces, each and every one placed with care and consideration. All of the colours complimented; a true masterpiece. 
“Holy shit,” Steve gasped, and Bucky rushed forward to look at the bundles closer. “Petal– look at them!”
“You are amazing,” Bucky said quietly, his fingers brushing the petals of a white rose. “Absolutely fuckin’ amazing, look at this. You did this.”
“Oh, my gosh,” you whispered, hiding behind your hands. “It’s just two bouquets-”
Steve looked at you, aghast. “No.” 
Both of them stepped towards you, and the next thing you knew, you were between them, squished to their chests and their arms around you. “Don’t you dare discount yourself, sweetheart,” Bucky murmured. “Be proud of yourself–it’s not a bad thing to be proud of what you create. And what you created is fuckin’ stunning.”
Many emotions swirled through your mind until you sniffled, pushing back against the burn of tears in your eyes. “O-Okay, thank you,” you whispered. Steve pulled away from the embrace to look at the flowers again, his face slack with awe, and Bucky held you tighter to his chest.
You felt a kiss at your temple suddenly. “Don’t you listen to those voices, alright? We’re louder and you’re gonna learn to love what you do, no matter what.” Unable to answer, you just nodded jerkily, wiping your eyes. Bucky’s thumb brushed your cheek, and he smiled softly as he pulled back. 
“Why don’t we get dinner?” Steve asked suddenly, and you looked at him. “This isn’t our date, Petal, don’t you worry. Let’s just get dinner. How do you get home–drive, walk?”
“I walk-” You tried, but Steve shook his head. 
“Not anymore, can’t have our Petal walking home on your own, okay?”
Ordinarily, you would have grimaced and grumbled at the commanding nature of such a statement, but somehow, this didn’t feel out of place. They cared, they just wanted you safe, you reasoned. “Okay, but Wanda normally walks with me, so–”
“That’s fine, we’ve got you both,” Bucky said simply, as though giving you both a lift was, in fact, not a big deal. 
“If you’re sure,” you said quietly, and Bucky squeezed your shoulder.
“Let’s go, I’m starved,” Steve said loudly, almost obnoxiously. Bucky rolled his eyes and grumbled under his breath. “Don’t start with me, babe. You know how I get when I’m hungry.”
Bucky looked at you. “Yeah, he becomes more of a pain in my ass.”
“Literally,” Steve chortled, and you gasped in quiet shock as Bucky hit Steve on the shoulder.
“We are in polite company, you fucker!” Bucky shoved Steve, and the two of them bickered as they arranged the flowers in their arms to better carry them out of the store. 
Finally, Bucky huffed and stuck his tongue out at Steve. “Let’s get these in the shop, then we can go to that diner.”
The three of you wandered out of your store, bouquets in hand, and Bucky took them into the shop. “How about here?” he wondered aloud, placing the red bouquet on the table, and adjusting it slightly. 
You strode forward and adjusted it again, turning the vases and humming to yourself as you righted it. When you were satisfied, you stepped back and nodded. “How ‘bout that?”
Steve hummed approvingly as he placed the white arrangement on the reception desk – perfectly, you may add. Bucky looked between you and the flowers once, twice, then, “You’re decorating from now on, sweetheart.”
“If you say so.”
“We know so.” Steve’s hand was warm on your shoulder, and you briefly glanced down at the intricate designs that covered the back of his hand, the swirls stopping at the gold wedding and engagement bands. He flexed his hand and raised a brow. “What is it, doll?”
You considered your answer, and then ploughed on. “How long have you been married?”
“Feels like our whole lives at this point,” Bucky answered before Steve could open his mouth. “I’ve been with this punk since, what–college? Before that, even.”
“Really?”
“Yeah,” Steve said. “We’ve been partners for a lifetime, and all those before-”
“Don’t go gettin’ all poetic on me, honey,” Bucky hushed, and he kissed Steve on the lips, then the cheek. “You said you were starved.”
“Can’t I be soft on my love?” 
Bucky laughed and shook his head. “You’re a punk–c’mon, Petal, let’s go.” He grabbed your hand and pulled you along – it was hard to ignore how warm his hand was or how your hand fit so perfectly in his. “And, just so you know, we’ve been married for nearly a decade now.”
“Wow,” you breathed, impressed. Neither gave the impression of being much older than yourself, but you supposed they were youthful in attitude, and that was one thing they had in abundance.
“So, what about that old diner on the corner–?”
“Yes!” you cried, brightening at the mention of your favourite spot to eat. “I love it there.”
Steve came up behind you and took hold of your other hand. “Alright, that’s settled then–off we go.”
They led you to a sleek, luxurious looking car parked a few feet from Quartet’s Tattoo. Bucky opened the back door for you, and you slipped into the leather seats with an awestruck gasp. The interior was immaculate and, for lack of a better word, rich. “Whoa–”
“We figured rather than letting that money sit and collect dust, we thought we should spend some of it,” Steve explained as he turned the ignition, and all the screens along the dash lit up. “Bucky spent more on his bike.”
You quickly looked at Bucky, who grinned proudly. “You have a bike?”
“Sure do, sweetheart. I’ll take you out one day,” he promised with another wink. 
Steve sighed. “That’s enough, you. Don’t want her passing out before dinner, at least.”
Bucky snorted a laugh, and Steve backed the car up before you were on your way to the diner. For dinner, with the two men that had asked you out on a date. The two married men. Wow, you thought to yourself. 
There was a slither of hesitance, but it was nothing next to the bounding hope of your heartbeat. For too long had you been shy and hesitant to take life by the reins, to take control and make something for yourself – your shop being the only proof that you could indeed take risks. 
That would end now, you intoned, promising yourself. Maybe this would be okay, maybe it would work. 
You could only try. 
Tumblr media
⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ⠄⠂⠁
⠈⠂⠄ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁
607 notes · View notes
uva124 · 3 months
Text
Tumblr media
So yeah, I finished the drawing of Asha's redesign from Wish :D, maybe I'll make some changes in the future, but I'm happy to have finished it, it should be noted that I haven't seen the movie. , so I can't give my opinion on it yet, but I found it very interesting that their fandom is mainly made up of people who rewrote or made their own version of the movie, they are all very creative and it got me out of an artistic block. that I had a few months ago, but above all I found the rewriting of @annymation which is the one I have been most hooked on, so I wanted to do some redesigns of the characters coming out of its rewriting, that's why everything that has to do with the story of this version of Asha, as well as her personality and her world on which I base my drawing are the ideas and work of this account: @annymation
I'm just making a drawing of her character and how I would design her as well as sharing part of the process I had to do to draw her because, why not?
BOARD:
The first thing I had to do was put together a table full of references that reminded me of the character and things that I would like to add to her design, so I used milanote to do it:
Tumblr media
-Looked for some Asha's concept art and save the ones I liked the most, and add the main colors that I used in the design. -I also created notes to write down the personality of the character and some of his data to have a better guide, I did a little research and found publications that talked a lot about Asha's discarded designs and how Disney workers had put that she had tribe ancestry Amazigh on his mother's side and since his father was from the Iberian Peninsula, that's why the next thing I wanted to do is research more about their culture. -I am not an expert on this topic, nor do I belong to the cultures from which Asha has ancestry, so you can comment on any correction regarding this topic, I wanted to implement details of this culture to her design and I would really like to give a correct representation :)
HAIRSTYLE
Continuing with the theme, I saw that the hairstyles in the Amazigh culture mostly had this type of colorful decorations on their braids and dreadlocks, that's why I also posted these reference photos for Asha's hairstyle.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
-Finally I decided that Asha would not have all her hair full of braids or dreadlocks, but only a few accompanied by these decorations with a great variation of colors, although it was fun to sketch the many hairstyle options that I had in mind based on these concept art and other photos that I had saved
Tumblr media Tumblr media
TATTOOS:
-Another detail that I liked was giving Asha some tattoos with designs from the Amazigh culture, because I saw that it was quite common for women to get them, the tattoo on her forehead is a symbol of protection against bad influences, that's why the The middle symbol is responsible for deflecting it in the 4 directions, I also added a similar one in Asha's right hand.
Tumblr media
ASTROLOGY AND THE SPACE:
-An important part of Asha's rewrite is her knowledge of astronomy inherited from her father, especially with the stars for obvious reasons xd, so in addition to adding constellations to her dresses, research the meaning (or something like that) of the planets. Only 3 really reminded me of the character, which were: -Mars: Symbolization of the internal conquering function of moving forward, independent, self-determined, enduring failures with new energy, courage and energy to fight for your desires. -Saturn: Maturity, effort to solidly build realistic criteria, frustrations are transformed into objectives to continue growing, critical and realistic, far from getting frustrated when an objective does not work, you strive to move forward and obtain even more resistant and solid achievements, perseverance , and tenacity (I feel like yhis it the most similar to Asha :D) -Moon: protective role, feeling very vulnerable outside your known areas, feeling of security with your ties, importance of family ties. The one that reminded me the most of Asha was Saturn, that's why I drew those Saturn-shaped earrings :).
Tumblr media
SUITS:
I looked for references and placed some on milanote, I noticed that the concept art was mainly divided into whether the dresses have lilac colors or warm colors, I decided to draw 2 models based on the discarded designs, although at first I thought of using only one color palette lilac and bluish, I realized that the reddish colors of her dress reminded me of Mars which has certain meanings that in my opinion coincide with Asha's personality. In the end I didn't decide what wardrobe she would primarily have 😅, but I like to think that in this version of Wish, Asha would have wardrobe and hairstyle changes like in some older Disney movies.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
-These are some of the concepts that I mainly used for my version of the dresses
FINAL COMMENTS:
I am satisfied with the result, it was fun to make all this, although what I researched mostly seems little, it actually cost me several hours and I did it at night, so as a funny fact the next day I was explaining all this information to my mother and I felt like I looked like that:
Tumblr media
(Make this drawing was so funny LMAO)
(Apologies if there are errors in my writing, English is not my first language and my writing is very basic)
225 notes · View notes
jollyfunvoid · 3 months
Text
Bucci gang headcanons
Bruno Bucciarati
-Wes Andersson fan (his comfort movie is Grandhotel Budapest)
-fave era is roaring 20s (aesthetic & music wise)
-listens to electro swing, swing, jazz and blues
-has a very strong sweet tooth. His cravings are so extreme he is able to eat whole giant chocolate on one go and not gain a single kilogram. His favorite ice cream is stracciatella and his go to dessert is tiramisu. If you wanna bribe him, use sweets
-loves Golden Girls (Sofia is his favorite character)
-hardcore Eurovision fan, always prepares for the Eurovision weeks in advance, it's like a holiday for him
-brings small camera with him everywhere he goes, gets very emotional and sentimental when taking pictures, loves to keep all the memories
-shares an old record player with Abbacchio, they collects vinyl records together
-in charge of shared Netflix and Disney+ account
-has an ornamental lower back tattoo which matches the one he has on his chest. Has a lot of tattoos all over his body in general
-is very good at sailing and has a captain's licence. As a kid he used to be obsessed with pirates, he still lowkey fantasizes about life at sea
-surprisingly a very good dancer and hella skilled belly dancer. He is also very flexible
-Caterina Caselli number 1 fan
-drinks a lot of coffee, never starts a day without a cup of cappuccino
-obsessed with candles
-as a kid he used to build wooden ship models with his dad. Now as an adult he still does it sometimes, when he is not too busy
-bought himself a sewing machine because he is really into fashion and wanted to start making his own clothes. Isn't very good at it tho, his sewing skills are poor, so he always ends up zipping everything up with his stand and then acts like that's how the "sewn" piece is supposed to look like
-has a sweet melodic laugh
-extremely flirty, he is a snarky little shit who loves to tease others
-"Oh my god look at the sky! The colors are so beautifl!" *takes a picture* "And the clouds? Wow!" *takes another picture* "Guys, come look at the sunset!" *takes 20 more pictures*
-has a very low alcohol tolerance (3 glasses in and he is under the table)
-although he seems like a very well put together person, he is very messy and tends to misplace things, especially when he creates extra storage with zippers he can't find anything. He calls it "organized chaos"
-can easily sneak up on others, he just silently spawns out of nowhere. Is it his natural ability or is Sticky Fingers involved? No one knows
-is able to talk his way out of anything, uses his charm to his advantage a lot. Also the master of puppy eyes
-suffers from PTSD because of the attack on his father, that's why he always sleeps with a knife under his pillow. Everytime he hears noises in the middle on the night he gets paranoid that someone is hiding in or sneaking into his home with the intention of harming him and his love ones. When the panic attacks hit him really hard, he irrationally makes extra safety precautions, such as blocking doors with furniture or leaving the lights on. Also has trouble sleeping in unknown places because he feels vulnerable and exposed to potential dangers, he is always in a state of high alert.
-his favorite season is winter, he enjoys Christmas the most because he loves giving presents and being with his family. He definitely plays an old Ella Fitgerald vinyl records during Christmas time
Leone Abbacchio
-tea lover, his favorite is earl grey
-doesn't like sweets, however he enjoys dried fruit (especially figs)
-Narancia is his favorite kid
-movies enthusiast, has seen sooo many movies and is the biggest critic. He has a Letterboxd account where he writes reviews. Loves watching old horror movies the most because of the gothic aesthetic, but DC movies have a very special place in his heart
-hardcore Depeche Mode, Calabrese and London After Midnight fan
-goes jogging every morning
-after getting sober he tries to look after his diet more, thanks to Bruno
-knows a lot about occult stuff
-secretly watches RuPaul's drag race with Trish
-owns a motorcycle
-named his stand after Bruno's favorite music genre to honor everything Bruno has done for him
-takes very cold and brisk showers
-taught all the boys how to drive
-thanks to Mista he became a huge Gorillaz fan
-since Moody Blues doesn't have lips, she communicates with him via symbols on her digital forehead screen
-never puts down his headphones
-has a playlist for literally any occasion. Tends to gatekeep music, you have to be very special if he shows you his playlists. Has made a playlist for each member of the Bucci gang, the only one who knows is Bruno (Leone created him multiple playlists, they even have a shared one, which they play when they are alone)
-his skin is very prone to bruising
-Moody Blues also allows him to see fragments of the past when he touches various items, he is able to sense the overall vibe and emotions of their owner and the situation they were in while using the item.
-his clothes may be dark, but I know for a fact his socks and underwear are colorful af, wild patterns all over
-his favorite season is autumn, he loves rainy and foggy weather
-the biggest prankster of the group. Everyone thinks either Narancia or Mista are always responsible for the pranks, but it is actually Leone. No one ever suspects him, because he doesn't look like the type of guy who would enjoy such childish things. And thanks to his stoic appearance he always gets away with it.
-true crime podcast listener. Him and Fugo share this passion and often discuss their favorite podcast shows. Sometimes they watch detective movies together and bet on who will solve the mystery first
Pannacotta Fugo
-reads a lot of crime novels in his free time, always comes up with his own theories and tries to solve the case before the detective (got mistaken only once and couldn't get over it for a long time). His favorite author is Sebastian Fitzek
-loves watching cartoons and animated movies, because he didn't get to enjoy them as a child
-hates horror movies because of loud jumpscares, but doesn't mind gore
-drinking green tea helps him to calm down
-gets sunburnt easily
-either never gets ill, or is sick for several weeks straight
-developed not only respiratory, but also digestive problems because of Purpe Haze and feels nauseous a lot (also throws up very often)
-uses make up to cover his facial scars
-his skin is extremely dry
-has a very light sleep, he finds it extremely difficult to share room with others during missions (he is only able to fall asleep with either Bruno or Giorno because they are not noisy sleepers like the others)
-Sheila, Murolo and him have regular sleepovers and movie marathons. They also cook dinner together
-his favorite bands are System of a Down, Slipknot, Bad Omens and Motionless in White
-can't go on rides in amusement parks because he gets sick
-him and Abbacchio visit rage rooms regularly
-always carries a book with him
-chews a lot of bubblegum to release his anger
-everytime the gang travels abroad he is the one who has to translate everything since he knows many foreign languages. He speaks english, french, russian, spanish and norwegian fluently, his pronunciation is so spot on you could barely tell he is not a native speaker. Doesn't have an accent at all. Also knows basics of sign language and cyrillic alphabet. He uses these skills often in Italy too, when he gets approached by strangers on the streets he pretends he is a confused tourist who doesn't undertand italian
-gets overstimulated easily, he is especially sensitive to noises (suffers from misophonia)
-bites ice cream and ice
-"the book was better than the movie" type of person
-picky eater, very cautious with unfamiliar food
-takes extremely hot showers. Whenever he is in the bathroom it ends up looking like a sauna in there. Also the gang has an unwritten rule that if they share a room during a mission, Fugo can use the bathroom first because he hates feeling dirty and has to use the shower immediately, otherwise he will be grumpy and won't shut up about it
-has a nasty skin picking habit, which results in him picking patches of dry skin and scabbed-over cuts and scratches (many of his injuries never fully heal because of this)
-never leaves the house without a hand sanitizer
-fidgets with his hands a lot when he is anxious
-goes to bed first and also wakes up the first
Narancia Ghirga
-vegetarian
-convinced Abbacchio to watch Brooklyn 99 with him (although Leone didn't like it at first, they now binge watch it together). They also watched Breaking Bad and What We Do In The Shadows
-has heterochromia
-thinks Orange Capri Sun is the supreme flavor and refuses to drink any other flavor
-created a shared playlist for the squad, he blasts it everytime the gang travels somewhere (it mostly consist of EDM, trap, phonk and rap)
-always beats everyone in Just Dance game sessions
-wears mismatched socks
-somewhat good at drawing, has a very unique cartoon caricature-like style
-hardcore Marvel fan (loves Guardians of the Galaxy the most), argues with Abbacchio a lot because he likes DC
-Mista, Trish and him had a podcast at some point
-his favorite candy is Kinder Surprise
-makes paper airplanes when bored
-bites people he love
-cries when animal dies in a movie
-suffers from seasonal allergy
-sleeps with tiny Creeper and Enderman Minecraft plushies, he takes them everywhere and even made them an instagram account, where he shares random pictures of them. When someone from the gang goes on a separate mission, he gives one plushie to the group or the individual, so they wouldn't feel lonely. And they also take pictures of the plusie and send them to Narancia.
-speaking of Minecraft, he manages a server where the gang plays together. He even created custom skins for everyone which look like their stands. Since he is the only one without humanoid stand, his skin is Mr. Smith, the pilot or Aerosmith. He wears a jacket with a picture of his stand in the back
-he is afraid of doctors and doesn't like hospitals. Everytime he gets sick or injured, he gets very anxious about his health. He hates dentists the most.
-loves when Fugo reads to him because he has a very smooth audio-book-like voice when he is calm
-experimented with different hair dyes couple of times, Trish and Abbacchio helped him
-die hard South Park fan, quotes the show on daily basis
-steals everyone's clothes. Can't find a shirt? Narancia is wearing it. Your hoodie is missing? It's in Narancia's closet
-has sticky notes all over his room, because if he doesn't have something written down, he will most likely forget it
-surprisingly very strong, the only person from the gang he is not able to lift up is Leone
Giorno Giovanna
-his emotions effect his powers (different flowers grow around him or from his hair when he gets excited, angry or scared), however he manages to control and hide it well
-master builder in The Sims game; doesn't care about the gameplay as such, he just enjoys building the houses and spends hours decorating them. Fugo loves to join his gaming sessions, but he on the other hand doesn't care about the houses or decorations, his goal is to always kill as many sims as possible (he loves to play around with various gruesome mods, which Giorno secretly enjoys watching)
-walking cottage core moodboard aesthetic
-goes on a picnic at least 2 times a week. In general preferst to eat ouside, terrace or garden are his favorite places
-has a very complex skincare routine
-heist movies enthusiast
-Trish got him into astrology and tarot cards
-loves theatre and poetry, even tried to write some poems himself
-writes official Passione documents on typewriter
-installed beehives in the Passione mansion gardens and makes his own honey
-collects dried flowers
-is the best liar in the group
-a bug magnet, there is always some type of insect crawling on his clothes
-him and Fugo have library & bookshop dates, they also visit museums together and exchange random facts about nature. Nerds in love, what can I say
-caramel is his favorite ice cream and dessert toping
-has a small floral tattoo on his wrist
-autistic
-loves taking bubble baths
-takes part in any bet without hesitation, no matter how absurd it is
-very bad dancer, has no rythm, but he is the best singer from the group, his voice is angelic
-very rough driver; hits the breaks hard, pumps up the gas fast and does very sharp turns. Also drives hella fast
-learned how to differentiate the steps of other people (especially the fellow teammates, since they live together). This is an old habit from his childhood.
-he walks very quietly, others barely notice when he walks into a room or when he leaves
-hates the smell of cigarettes
-others think he has a very odd music taste, because he will be singing a song from a Disney movie and within a couple of minutes you can catch him vibing to Banshee. He is forbidden to play his music in the car because it consist of all kinds of genres it makes it almost uncomfortable to listen to. His fellow gang members say his playlists are inconsistent, but they just make sense to Giorno.
-speaking of music, he is a huge fan of Hozier, Die Antwoord, Ghostemane and Little Big
-very creative, his hobbies include all kinds of crafty ativities, such as sewing, embroidering, pottery making, felting, knitting, soap making, candle making…. you name it, if he can create something, he will. And he is very good at it
-extremely fascinated by venomous animals and poisonous plants. The deadlier the better. His obsession with killer plants led to him nicknaming Fugo "his aconito", because he associates the aconite flower with his stand (it disables nerves, lowers blood pressure, and can stop the heart, plus it's purple). His other favorite flowers associated with Fugo and Purple Haze are Nightshade, Love in a mist, Spider lily and Morning glory
-zones out a lot
-sleeps with dozens of pillows, when he sleeps he is literally burried under them
-when he gets overwhelmed he lights up an incense stick and it calms him down. He is very fond of nice smells.
Guido Mista
-enjoys shitty movies, especially buddy commedies and low budget rom coms. Abbacchio hates when Mista picks films for the movie nights. Bruno on the other hand loves it
-Adam Sandler number 1 fan
-signed up for an archery course, also tried to use crossbow at some point
-can fall asleep anywhere, snores very loud
-likes the weirdest food combinations (like ice cream and pickles and stuff), the type of person who eats fries with McFlurry
-kills bugs with Nerf guns, Giorno hates it
-plays airsoft and paintball in free time
-enjoys camping, rockclimbing and rafting. Outdoor activities are his thing
-hella superstitious, made up various rituals he repeats in order to avoid bad luck
-very religious, always says a prayer before every mission
-reggaeton is his favorite type of music
-idk why but him having diabetes makes so much sence, since Pistols have to eat regularly to keep his energy and sugar lvl. stable
-mayo is his go to dressing with everything (fries, hot dog, nachos...)
-him and Narancia have 1am fast food trips
-makes silly bets with others and always challenges them to do something stupid for money, Giorno is always the first one to participate
-the best hugger
-big brother energy, everytime the other teammates screw something up and are afraid to tell Bucciarati or Abbacchio, they go to Mista for advice. He is extremely responsible and can always keep his head clear in stressful situations
-claims to hate drama but is always down to listen to some fresh tea
-loves watching cooking competitions. He is always judging the contestants harder than Gordon Ramsay ever could, Abbacchio occasionally joins him because he finds it amusing
-whenever someone tells him "I love you" he replies "Ditto", referencing one of his favorite movies (Ghost, 1990)
193 notes · View notes
gffa · 4 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
WHAT WE KNOW OF THE KIFFAR PEOPLE:
I was never sure (not having read all of Legends) but going through the High Republic Character Encyclopedia and Dark Disciple, it's (Disney) canon that Kiffar markings are definitely tattoos and they receive them in childhood. It seems they receive them at least before the age of four years old, as Vildar has his in a flashback he has to when he was that age, in his birth village:
Tumblr media
There also seems to be some variety in them--Vildar's are white, Quinlan's are yellow--and possibly further tattoos, as Quinlan has a yellow one on his arm as well:
Tumblr media
And it makes sense that these are probably clan-related, which the Star Wars Databank backs up:
"Kiffar seem human in appearance, but are identifiable from facial tattoos which indicates their clan affilation [sic] on their home planets of Kiffu and Kiffex."
And while psychometry was not limited to just the Kiffar (as there's no indication that Cal Kestis was Kiffar and Karr Nuq Sin from Force Collector definitely wasn't Kiffar, Rey and Ahsoka both seem to have some level of ability to do it), it seems like it's slightly more common in their population:
Tumblr media
Which tracks with that Vildar and Quinlan both had the ability (though, Vildar only uses it rarely, possibly because he's not as gifted in it as Quinlan is):
Tumblr media
205 notes · View notes
cogentranting · 6 months
Text
Ranking Animated Horse Designs Take 3
This time I really am back by popular demand because the other two posts have been getting a steady trickle of notes for over a year now.
(If you're looking for stuff like Disney and Dreamworks there are two other posts. Here we've got mostly random cartoons and also the Pokemon horses)
Tumblr media
Starlite (Rainbow Brite) 6/10 Little weird that he seems to be drawn in a style that's like 3x more realistic than any other character in this show but hey sometimes you just ascend to a higher plane of existence. (2014 Reboot Starlite gets a 3/10. I do not trust him.)
Tumblr media
Skydancer (Rainbow Brite) 7/10 I bumped Starlite down a point because he wants what Skydancer has. Skydancer doesn't need rainbows to fly. Skydancer has a lightning bolt. Skydancer has the Drama. (The one wiki page said he's a Shire or a Clydesdale and um I don't think so. Maybe a Friesian.)
Tumblr media
On-yx (Rainbow Brite) This is a rocket powered balloon animal. 2/10
Tumblr media
Sunriser (Rainbow Brite) 5/10 Eh. I like her hair though.
Tumblr media
Swift Wind (She-Ra and the Princesses of Power/ She-Ra Princess of Power)
Right (older version) 8/10 I don't understand the wing physics going on here. Also not sure if the horn is part of the mask or just attached to the mask. Diggin the bib though. Also love that he's a ginger.
Left (new version) 4/10 If the older version wasn't there this would score higher because just as a character design I don't think it's bad but if these are supposed to be the same character he seems so cutesy and I do not vibe with it. I don't know either show. So maybe that works. But it feels wrong.
Tumblr media
Amalthea (The Last Unicorn) 9/10 They gave the unicorn the split deer hooves, and the lions tail and that is automatic points from me. Bummed they didn't go all out and give us the goat's beard. Rude. Any distance shot, I love. Close-ups of the face creep me out with the giant doll eyes and tiny nose.
(Pokemon and more below)
Tumblr media
Honey Pie Pony (Strawberry Shortcake) 8/10 Adorable. Fantastically chunky design. The others from this... show? book? brand? are like 6s or 5s depending. But Honey Pie has the It factor. (The It Factor here apparently being that recurring pattern of only the main character's horse being able to talk?? This is the third. Swift Wind, Starlite and Honey Pie have dark secrets about how they come by this knowledge).
Tumblr media
My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic "ponies" Just as characters they're cute in a "trying so hard to be cute that they almost miss the mark entirely" way. But this is about how they are as HORSE designs. And these are magical gremlins not horses. 1/10 (WHAT is happening on the far right of this set. I do not approve. Zebra is fine though).
Tumblr media
My Little Pony: A New Generation Like if the MLP: FM ponies and the Trolls characters somehow had children. Somehow the main character of Bee Movie was also involved. The one on the left makes TikTok thirst traps. -2/10
Tumblr media
My Little Pony Tales 3/10 I can almost tell they're meant to be horses. Plus that one has a tattoo of a comb. So. Full extra point for the comb tattoo.
Bratz Horses I can't tell if there's an official video game or cartoon design for these but in ANY given version I found the conclusion is the same: if you look into the gigantic distended eye you will be put under the horse's curse. 1/10
Tumblr media
Boxer (Animal Farm) 4/10 All horses are equal but some are more equal than others, but Boxer is not one of them because his mouth is not okay.
Tumblr media
Marvin (Marvin the Tap Dancing Horse) 5/10 I mean. Dude's got spats. Come on.
Tumblr media
Ponyta (Pokemon) 3/5 The armpit and middle thigh flames were a choice.
Tumblr media
Rapidash (Pokemon) 8/10 Look at his face. The angst. He has seen things.
Tumblr media
Mudsdale (Pokemon) 8/10 The classic mohawk, dreadlocks and legwarmers trifecta. Love it. Would love to hug him.
Tumblr media
Galarian Ponyta 3/10 It's giving sheep, and it's giving dog. Very little horse.
Tumblr media
Galarian Rapidash (Pokemon) 4/10 He's angry because his hair is too long and he can't walk and also he has not eaten enough somebody feed this horse.
Tumblr media
Origin Palkia (Pokemon) 6/10 A built-in hoola-hoop AND thigh high Boots?! what fashion.
Tumblr media
Keldeo (Pokemon) 1/10 Clown goat.
Tumblr media
Spectrier (Pokemon) 10/10 Beautiful goth girl horse floating around like a Victorian ghost who's too modest to show her ankles.
Tumblr media
Mudbray (Pokemon) 5/10 He has passed through the depths of existential dread and returned world-weary but unshakeable and with a snazzy bowl cut.
Tumblr media
Glastrier (Pokemon)
20/10 ICE HORSE ICE HORSE ICE HORSE. I love him so much. He's punk rock
Tumblr media
The Fat Horse (Looney Tunes) 10/10 Queen.
292 notes · View notes
serpentpatrol · 4 months
Text
Astro Observation: Gemini ♊ part 1
Tumblr media
Animation of Hyuna & Dawn for Ping Pong MV created by Hanavbara @hanavbara
👥 Gemini placements have tendencies to love to walk or how they walk is so fast or quick, like their quick wit. They love to explore and experience various types of activities which is why they can move quickly. Gemini reminds me of Hermes, the messenger of the gods in Disney Animated Movie 'Hercules'. He is quick and always flying around everywhere. Apparently Hermes represents Mercury and in Roman religion, Mercury is the god of shopkeepers and merchants, travelers and transporters of goods, and thieves and tricksters.
👥 Gemini doesn't belong to one type of group, they could go anywhere to diverse groups and socialize everywhere. They are not and cannot be categorized in one particular identity. Even though some of them would be introverted but they always have a hybrid personality which cannot be pinned down to one description, their interests are varied hence theyre informative about things around them (similar like Sagittarius). When at first they are 'A', the next time they could change themselves as 'B'. Due to its mutable modality, their expressions are unpredictable.
👥 Gemini moons could have changable unpredictable moods, one moment they could be cold and detached (especially when there are heavy emotional problems related with other people, they would prefer to avoid or disengage, unless they have fire placements) and other moment they became carefree, cheerful, snarky, lively, sensitive and vulnerable. The unpredictable moods occured due to how they need time and space to understand their own emotions first before dealing with the emotions of others.
👥 Gemini placements or Air Moons, 3rd House placements, 12th House Mercury, or Mercury dominant have talent in writings, or they have a penchant to write varied information with creative or eloquent sentences.
👥 Gemini placements either express themselves with a youthful vibe or carry themselves elegantly (mostly the females). (few examples: Lily-Rose Depp, Naomi Campbell, Hyuna, Kylie Minogue, Marylin Monroe)
👥 Gemini likes to collect/wear things based on their own personal preferences, and mostly it could be colorful things or they love to create something like Libra and those creation becomes part of their unique identity/interest, they indeed have versatile and quirky style. For example a Gemini female likes colorful jelly candies and she loves to restock them in a bowl in her office desk. Another example would be Hyuna (a KPOP Idol) with her colorful unique tattoos all over her body. But they could also have fascination to or the ability to express things with dark or unusual themes (the example is Johnny Depp with all his characters in movies). Another example of Gemini is Kylie Minogue with her variative style. Below is Hyuna & Dawn's Ping Pong Live Performance ✨️ (both of them are Geminis)
👥 Gemini women are effortlessly flirty or seductive in how they communicate whether it is intentional or not, while at the same time emotionally detached from others. They are confident in themselves so when connecting with others, they need more mental stimulations. They are like faeries *Tinkerbell* based on Manly P. Hall description about air elemental spirit in his book titled 'The Philosophy of Astrology'.
©SerpentPatrol
Tumblr media
160 notes · View notes
Text
Why Bumbleby Matters
Yesterday was the first anniversary of one of the biggest kisses in queer media. Blake Belladonna and Yang Xiao Long, of the cult hit web show RWBY, confessed their love and smooched on March 25, 2023, and I was totally normal about it. I don't have all the manga and figures and a tattoo and half a million words of fanfic; that would be *crazy*, especially compared to socially-acceprable normal fixations like season tickets to sportsball games or thousand-dollar concert tickets. 
A lot of things make RWBY an important show. It's an animated action story that puts its four heroines unambiguously front and center, with arcs that are about *them*, and not as set dressing or motivation for make protagonists. It's increasingly represented sapphic, trans, and nonbinary characters across its nine seasons, and its won awards for taking its silly, cheesy origins and developing a complex story about broken heroes and traumatized villains finding themselves and struggling with love, loss, disability, abuse, and a whole spectrum of human experiences, with the fate of the world hanging in the balance. 
But what's important about Blake and Yang was that they got a real romance that, across nine seasons, they had to fight for. In an era where queer representation is largely still a diversity checkbox for most media (see: Disney crowing about having background characters looking at each other a little gayly while passing on movies like Nimona that actually revolve around queer relationships), or struggle to be more than titillation (Saltburn) and are swatted down by corporate censors (Legend of Korra and She-Ra were years ago, and this year's blockbuster Witch from Mercury was still officially "open to interpretation"), getting an actually romance cooked for nine seasons across ten years... y'know, like you'd expect from a straight slowburn... is huge. 
RWBY's studio was just shut down by Warner Bros, infamous for shelving projects for the tax writeoffs, so who knows if we'll ever get a conclusion to the story. But one year ago, we got a beautiful conclusion to Blake & Yang's love story, one that mattered to queer people around the world. 
cross posted from Patreon
Tumblr media
89 notes · View notes