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#paper’s personal portfolio
piedoesnotequalpi · 4 months
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Shout-out to past me for using [sic] after every instance of "person with autism" that I had to quote in a research paper
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weavebitch · 2 months
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personal vent about boring shit under the cut. i just need to talk about this somewhere before i explode
i hate writing shit for uni with my whole body and soul. i've been chipping away at a term paper for [a ridiculous amount of time]. i have written 10 pages, used like 5 sources who are all quite sad and borderline unusable, formulated not a single original thought about the topic, and honestly given up on anything better than barely passing the course
with the time and mental strain and sleepless nights i could've studied for and written at least three normal exams. but nooo why would that be an option. my prof is like 70 and writes papers as a hobby so he thinks his method is hot shit but my ADHD doesn't agree
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main-character-moment · 4 months
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My mam said we have to clean the house today (told us yesterday) and that we would start at 12. She immediately proceeded to go out at 12 and said we’d clean the moment we got back. She gets back and now there’s lunch to be made. By the time we get started we’re nearly 2 hours late and the energy and allocated time I had for all my tasks is gone. I will get none of the art I need to get done done today.
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humble-butter · 2 years
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uuuunnnngghh i just wanna complain about everything 😅
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ssavaart · 2 months
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Happy Friday All!
In early 2020 (before Covid), I was painting larger paintings like this with Acryla-Gouache. I was really enjoying the medium.
I was inspired by a couple of photos by Annie Bertram on Deviant Art and asked permission to use them for reference.
Since I was just doing these for myself... I had NO plan. No test drawings. No layouts. I just started drawing on a large piece of paper and figured it out as I went.
Because of this... I never really figured out what to do with the hand on the left.
So... it just kind of disappeared.
I may go back and add it in later, I think.
But, for now... it's always a reminder of a time where I just broke out the paints and... played.
A couple months later... Covid hit and it was 3 years until I did my next large painting (the Gothic Vampire).
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(Note: I can't find a reply from the photographer regarding permission or not. My memory is I heard back. But I can't find it.)
I DID hear from the model Theresa Fractale, a couple of years later, who was VERY upset that I had sold some postcards of the painting without her permission.
I was mortified. I hadn't even considered reaching out to the model. I offered her and Annie Bertram all of the profits I made from the sales, but she wasn't satisfied... and we left it at that.
These things DO happen with artists. Sometimes people claim you've "stolen" their art or style or likeness. And sometimes they have legitimate reason to do so.
Me, personally... I believe that artists should use ALL of the world around them for inspiration and if it is HEAVILY influenced by one artist or work of art... CREDIT them.
But change it. Don't directly copy it (unless you're studying someone's work... in which case... copy away).
But always credit.
I believe I REFERENCED the photos above, but didn't copy them.
But, I DID heavily reference them and, honestly, had NO intention of selling it (I still own the painting) or prints (I had only sold a few postcards before being contacted by the model... then stopped).
In any case... if the model or the photographer is unhappy with me selling prints... I don't sell prints. It's that simple.
Their work directly inspired MY work and while I feel that I've changed it enough to be unique... I don't want to cause another artist harm in any way.
Every artist is different. Some are open to sharing their art (like me) and others are very protective of their art.
But, there are no RULES to art. There is no such thing as "cheating" in art. There IS copyright LAW. And that is theft.
But that law ONLY (as far as I know) works if you are SELLING a copy of someone else's work. Profiting from it.
Not for learning. Not for practice. And not for posting online.
Just please... PLEASE credit the artist you're copying. Tell people why you are copying.
Nowadays, if I'm going to do a painting I plan on making prints of, I either use stock photography I've paid for or I get permission and pay the rights holder.
But, this is ONLY for pieces I want to sell prints of.
You do NOT need permission to use photo reference or even copy another artist's work for your portfolio or to post online.
Credit them. Share your inspiration with others. Tell them why you copied the works
But you don't need permission simply to make art. Ever.
Art should be shared. Copied. Studied. And most of all... enjoyed.
Sending Big Hugs from the Hobbit Hole. ♥♥♥
Scott
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People have been asking for a Chang timeline post! Chang not only represents a turning point in the politics of the Tintin series, he also represents a sense of chronology in the otherwise floating timeline of the canon. While Tintin almost never discusses his past, Chang is a key part of his personal story in Tintin in Tibet.
I imagine him and Tintin being around the same age, with Chang being a few months younger.
Child - Chang had a happy early childhood being raised by his father and grandparents. He never mentions his mother when recounting his backstory to Tintin, so my main guesses are she either passed away or his parents separated before Chang was old enough to remember her. His father and grandparents taught him how to cook from an early age, and taught him the importance of solidarity and community, lessons Chang will hold onto the rest of his life.
Early canon - Chang is orphaned. This sudden loss causes him to act out. He turns to picking pockets and causing general mischief until an orphanage takes him in. Chang learns a lot of skills just to survive - he’s stealthy, he’s street smart and pretty decent at climbing. His experiences as a street kid taught him to be wary of authority.
The orphanage provides a brief period of stability until it is swept away in a flood. Until this point, Chang has felt pretty powerless in his life so just goes with the flow, so when Tintin drags him out of a river he doesn’t think twice about going along with him to break up a drug ring in The Blue Lotus. Going on this adventure with Tintin imbues him with a sense of empowerment and purpose he never felt before.
Student - The Wangs adopt him pretty quickly after he busts the drug ring with Tintin. It’s a sudden change he struggles to adapt to, with the Wangs being wealthy academics and Chang coming from a working class background there’s a significant culture clash.
Tintin leaves just as quickly and rarely contacts Chang, even as his journalism career takes off, leaving Chang lonely and heartbroken. Chang tries to send him letters but doesn’t know that Tintin moved out of Labrador Road.
Having missed out on education for a bit Chang struggles with school. He feels unworthy of the opportunities the Wangs try to provide him with and a part of him feels they only adopted him because they were dazzled by him taking down that drug ring, an achievement he increasingly feels he will never live up to again. He struggles with mental health issues, but finds solace in photography, his portfolio getting him a place at university despite his bad grades.
Young adult - In an attempt to try and help Chang’s mental wellbeing the Wangs decide to send Chang off to visit his uncles before he starts university, only for Chang to nearly perish in a plane crash in Tibet. Ironically, it’s this near death experience that shakes him out of it. Chang has a renewed enthusiasm for life, taking to travelling, dance and photography. Didi trains him in some basic martial arts so Chang can fend for himself.
Tintin makes an effort to stay in touch after having nearly lost Chang. The two repair their friendship, and Tintin has him stay at Marlinspike when Chang studies in Belgium for his second year of university. By the time Chang comes around, he’s had a growth spurt and has been working out - Chang is pretty haunted by his skeletal state from his near death experience in Tibet, so has been making an effort to recover.
After helping Tintin with a case, Tintin gets him a job at his paper as his photographer. Being Chinese he faces challenges in the workplace, and he uses his charm to be as personable as possible. Unlike Tintin, he frequents quite a few staff parties, and ends up pretty popular!
A couple of years later, Chang tries to unionise the staff at the paper. He and Tintin are outed as a couple and the two of them are fired.
Middle aged - After fighting fascists with the Marlinspike team during WW2 Chang and Tintin settle down in Belgium, with Chang scraping out some freelance photography work and a part time job at a portraiture studio. War in China causes them to lose contact with his adopted family. 
While Tintin grows more cynical, Chang accepts the chaos of the world and mellows out a lot. He tries to be a supportive partner and makes extra effort to stay in touch with his uncles and cousins.
Elderly - Chang uses his skills in photojournalism when he gets involved in political activism. He and Tintin are finally able to reunite with Didi and his children in the 70s.
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doumadono · 11 months
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Inked by desire - Akaza x Reader
Warnings: smut w/o plot, modern au, tattoo artist!akaza, dirty talk, vaginal sex Synopsis: despite his professional demeanor, Akaza finds himself unable to resist the temptation and ends up taking you to the back room of his tattoo shop where he passionately claims you as his own
MASTERLIST
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As you scroll through the numerous tattoo shops online, you come across one with glowing reviews and a stunning portfolio of intricate designs. The name of the tattoo artist is Akaza, and you're immediately drawn to the intricate and beautiful artwork he has created. You decide to book an appointment with him, hoping that he can create something unique and special for you.
Days later, you find yourself standing outside the tattoo shop, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. The sign outside reads "Rampage Ink," and the interior is just as impressive as the website promised. The walls are adorned with examples of Akaza's work, ranging from delicate floral designs to bold, geometric patterns.
As you approach the front desk, a rather tall and imposing man emerges from the back room. He introduces himself as Akaza, his voice deep and smooth.
You feel a shiver run down your spine as he appraises you with a piercing gaze.
Akaza, the artist, is a towering figure, bulky and muscular, with broad shoulders and thick arms that are covered in intricate tattoos that seem to tell a story. His hair is short and black, with the ends dyed a vibrant pink. He wears a tight-fitting black plain t-shirt that hugs his chest and biceps, showing off his impressive physique. His black jeans have a stylish distressed look, with a hole on one knee that adds to his a little edgy appearance. Despite his imposing size, Akaza moves with a surprising grace, his every movement fluid and precise. He carries himself with a confident swagger, a man who knows his own worth and isn't afraid to show it. His piercing gaze seems to penetrate to the very core of a person, and when he speaks, his voice carries a low, rumbling power that commands attention. "Ah, you must be my next appointment," he says, a sly smile playing at the corners of his lips. As he approaches you, he can see that you're already nervous. He can't help but notice how exposed you are, with your boobs almost falling out of your tight shirt with a plunging neckline and your legs barely covered by a miniskirt. He can see that you're confident, but he can also see the small details that betray your nervousness. Akaza is used to clients who are nervous or even scared of getting a tattoo, but he can sense that you're particularly on edge. The moment Akaza laid his eyes on you, he felt a surge of possessiveness and desire that he couldn't quite explain. He knew that he wanted you, and that he would have you. "Come with me, and we'll get started on your tattoo."
You follow him to the back room, taking in the dim lighting and the low hum of music in the background.
Akaza gestures to the tattooing bed and asks you to take a seat, his eyes never leaving your face. "Tell me, what kind of design were you thinking of?" he asks, his fingers already starting to trace the lines of your skin.
You can feel the heat of his touch and the way it sends shivers down your spine. You take a deep breath, gathering your thoughts. "It's actually my first tattoo, and I was thinking of something floral. But I want it in a place that not everyone can see."
As you describe your vision for the tattoo, Akaza nods along, his face taking on a look of intense concentration. He begins to sketch out the design on a sheet of paper, his movements fluid and precise. "I think the best possible location for this tattoo would be your abdomen," he says, pointing to the area just above your pubic mound. "It's a spot that's easy to hide if you need to, and it's not as sensitive as some other areas, so it shouldn't be too painful," he informs you. As you lay back on the tattooing bed, Akaza orders, "Alright, now lift your shirt and tug your skirt down a little. I need to make sure I can see the pace properly." As he prepares his tattoo gun and positions himself, you stop him abruptly. "Wait, sir," you say, your voice laced with anxiety. "I don't think I can do this…"
Akaza doesn't immediately respond, instead taking a moment to study your face. He sees the fear in your eyes, the way your body tenses up. Akaza sets down the tattoo gun and gestures for you to sit up. "Hey," he whispers, his voice gentle. "It's okay. We can stop if you will want. But if you're up for it, I have an idea that might help." He watches as you bite your lip, waiting patiently for him to share his idea with you, and he can feel his desire grow. He can see that your nipples are hardened, even through the fabric of the shirt you're wearing. It's hot in the studio, but he knows that there is only one reason for that. "I can help you ease some stress," he says with a grin, his eyes lingering on your body. As his fingers deliberately graze your knee, it's evident that the touch is anything but accidental.
You blush at his words, but you can feel your own desire growing. You can see the hunger in his eyes, and it sends shivers down your spine. "I can see the way you're looking at me. It's kind of intense, sir." From the moment your eyes first beheld the figure of Akaza, you knew with utter certainty that he would be the bane of your existence. He exuded an aura of dangerous sensuality that was utterly irresistible, drawing you inexorably toward him with a magnetic force that left you powerless to resist. His piercing gaze seemed to strip away all pretense and lay bare the very essence of your being, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable in a way that was both exhilarating and terrifying. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest as he leans in closer to you. You can smell his strong cologne, and it's driving you wild. You can feel the heat building between you, and you know that you want him just as much as he wants you.
"I just want you to relax before we start," he utters, his lips brushing against your ear.
You moan softly, unable to resist him any longer. Twirling a strand of hair around your finger with a mischievous glint in your eye, you inquire, "So, Akaza, how do you plan on helping me cope with all this stress?"
Akaza takes your hand.
You hop off the bed and follow him.
The man leads you to the door of another room in the tattoo shop. As he pushes it open, the smell of antiseptic and ink fills your nostrils. The room is bright and spacious, with a large tattooing bed in the center and shelves filled with ink bottles and tattoo equipment lining the walls.
So there you are, kneeling in front of a man whom you hardly know, engulfing his entire length inside your mouth, flicking and circling your tongue around it, utterly intoxicated by the sensation, looking up at him. Akaza's well-endowed member causes discomfort in your mouth, as his size is quite overwhelming. You have one hand resting between your thighs, legs slightly spread. Your fingers are teasing your already slick clit, having pushed your panties aside.
He is fully aware of his impressive size, taking pleasure in the sight of you struggling to handle it. His confidence only grows as he slips his hands into your hair, tugging at it occasionally, while emitting satisfied grunts. Suddenly, he firmly grasps your hair and begins thrusting vigorously, his sole aim being to release his load deep in your throat. The grip of your throat around his manhood is heavenly, so tight that it causes him to let out a throaty moan.
Tears stream down your face as he holds your head in place, your eyes rolling back as he empties himself deep down your throat. Mascara smudges down your cheeks, evidence of your surrender to his desires.
Akaza smirks wryly while looking down at you, his voice filled with a sense of satisfaction as he says, "Swallowed it all like a good slut, huh? You fucking cockslut." His eyes are fixed on you, watching your reaction as his calloused hand caresses your cheek.
Akaza takes hold of your elbow and pulls you up to your feet with a firm grip. Without a chance to catch your breath, he slams you against the mirror and fucks you relentlessly. The glass fogs from his heavy breathing while you moan uncontrollably, gripping his shirt and sobbing in pure ecstasy.
This is the thickest and best cock you've ever had, and it's driving you wild.
He lifts one of your legs, wrapping it around his hip, thrusting harder and faster, filling the room with wet, nasty sounds from your abused pussy. "You're so fucking tight, cunt. You came to me almost uncovered," he muses, his voice low and teasing. "Either you wanted to flaunt yourself or you were seeking to get fucked," Akaza remarks bluntly, his thrusts become sloppier with time.
Your body trembles as you climax and cream on his cock, taking all of his cum inside of you.
As it all comes to an end, he grabs your face with his hand and gives you the sloppiest kiss you've ever experienced. A string of saliva connects your lips when he pulls away. "You really took it all like a good, little whore," Akaza says, smirking at you.
After the intense intercourse with Akaza, you feel a sense of relaxation and contentment wash over you.
Akaza notices this and leads you back to the tattooing bed with a confident stride, ready to continue his artistry. The atmosphere in the room has changed; it is now charged with a quiet intensity and focus. As he prepares his tools, Akaza explains the steps in the tattooing process, his voice low and soothing, as if no passionate events had occurred between the two of you.
As he begins to work on your tattoo, you can feel his hands on your skin. They're strong and skilled. Akaza gives you a warm smile, sensing that you're feeling more at ease now.
You can feel the gentle pressure of the needle on your skin, a sensation that is simultaneously painful and pleasurable. The pain is bearable, and you find yourself relaxing into the rhythm of Akaza's movements. The man's using his expert touch to create the design you've chosen. As he works, he keeps up a steady stream of conversation, asking about your interests and sharing stories from his own life, ever so casually.
It's a distraction that helps take your mind off the pain, and you find yourself relaxing more and more as time goes on. After what had just happened, the slight stings caused by the tattoo gun's needles feels insignificant to you.
It is an easy job for Akaza to finish the tattoo since your mind is still reeling from the pleasure he had given you. Akaza finishes the intricate design with ease, his skilled hands moving fluidly with the tattoo gun.
You feel a slight stings as the needle punctures your skin, but your mind is elsewhere. You can still feel his firm grasp on you, his cock buried deep inside you as you both moaned in ecstasy.
When he's finished, he steps back to admire his work, but he's not just admiring the tattoo - Akaza is admiring you. "You look even more beautiful with the tattoo," he praises, his voice low and seductive. He offers you a discount on the tattoo, still grinning from the intense pleasure you both shared.
You eagerly ask if you can come back in maybe two weeks for another tattoo, and he nods his head, knowing that he has you under his spell. As you leave the shop, you can still feel the aftershocks of pleasure pulsing through your body. You know that you will be back for more, unable to resist the allure of the tattoo artist named Akaza and his skilled hands.
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rrxnjun · 10 months
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portrait of a blank slate. huang renjun
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pairing: huang renjun x fem! reader genre: college au. fluff, smut, and the tiniest bit of angst. warnings: swearing, alcohol, angry man renjun, very bad dialogue, this is the most un-renjun fic i've ever written, dry humping, a heavy makeout session, unfinished blowjob word count: 5.8k playlist: no specific one this time but i listened to a lot of keshi while writing this, so have this playlist of mine to fit the vibes a/n: inspired by that one tweet describing how someone's art professor met his wife the same exact way, lost the screenshot and also the og post im so sorry!
turns out all it takes to save a life is a bad, bad college party, a few shots and a weird, magical coincidence back in a girl's dorm room.
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It’s hard to believe that Huang Renjun is currently finishing up the art portfolio he needs for his summer internship program after procrastinating and angrily stomping at every single bad stroke of his paintbrush for the last few months.
Because he’s not.
He’s looking at the canvas with stern eyes, the smudges on the white linen so messy he could cry just by looking at them, and the more he tries to save the disgrace currently scribbled in front of him, the worse it gets and makes the levels of frustration in him turn into rage and fury, because let’s be honest– what is Renjun’s primary emotion if not anger. 
And he tries hard to fix it again, he really does– he sighs heavily while doing so as he takes a smaller brush and tries to paint on a few hairstrokes to the portrait of Frida Kahlo he wants to execute– and in honest reality, it doesn’t even look half as bad as it does in the poor boy’s eyes when he takes a step back after holding in his breath and carefully piercing together the artwork. Maybe if there was someone else in the room– everyone but his annoying roommate Donghyuck, because that fucker always manages to make things even worse– they could talk him out of it, offer some words of consolidation, even, hype him up and tell him that with outsider’s eyes, the canvas looks beautiful and very well put together. But the truth is that there’s no one present right now, not a single soul in what feels like the whole campus right now, that could ease Huang Renjun’s frustration from what seems to be art block, when he throws the paintbrush to the wall (he’ll worry about the stain of acrylic paint later, when he gains consciousness) and puts a fist through the middle of the painting.
If he was a character in a comic book, his hand would go through the canvas and create a quite satisfying hole. He’s a real person, though– a weak one as well, to be quite honest– and his fist is stopped by the stretched-out fabric, making his hand bounce back, but now stained with all shades of brown and tan, which somehow only makes him even more mad and turns him into a furious animal roaming around free and causing uttermost chaos in his all true sense.
Nothing can stop Huang Renjun when he opens the drawer he keeps all his artwork in, taking out all the graphite sketches and colored pencil drawings, and then the next one containing the watercolor paintings and various other acrylic paintings done on expensive sheets of paper, stacking all of those onto one pile in the middle of the table. Not one thing is safe– except from the digital artworks he keeps in his iPad and his big A4 sketchbook he forgot about in the heat of the moment, since he keeps it on his nightstand– when he takes the big, heavy stack of art and runs, chimes towards the entrance of his and Donghyuck’s miniature dorm room, luck only standing by his side once in this whole evening when his said roommate opens the door and clears the way for him, looking at the poor boy with mouth agape in a slight shock.
“What the fuck are you doing right n–”
Donghyuck doesn’t get an answer. When he asks stupid questions, Renjun doesn’t tend to pay him much mind, settling on not engaging with the discourse if it doesn’t make much sense, so Hyuck should be used to the ignorance– he thinks this was a very valid question to ask at this moment, though. If he was curious enough, he’d even follow his roommate down the hall and watch him in his endeavors only to find out what’s the intention behind his angry stomping and the fierce look on his face. The truth is, though, he doesn’t care all that much.
That doesn’t stop Huang Renjun, though, as he chimes down the hall of the boy’s dormitory, kicks the glass door open (thankfully not the actual glass part, because that would for sure be expensive) and practically runs the rest of the way towards the bins at the end of the street, dumping the papers into the bin (forgive him for not recycling in his current state of mind) before he angrily kicks the poor object twice for good measure and turns on his heel, slowly, but still as angrily making his way back to his dorm room by stomping all the way up until the entrance.
The dorm guard doesn’t even ask for his dorm ID like he usually does– Renjun must have been quite memorable as he ran out of the building with 5kg of artwork of various sizes in his arms– but the truth is, the man isn’t as old and he saw the boy going out just a few minutes ago, so he doesn’t think it’s necessary. Renjun would appreciate the memo, although, when he remembers that the man always asks for the dorm ID, especially on the nights out when he comes back slightly intoxicated and too disoriented to look for the little slip of paper in his pockets, and on the nights when he forgets his dorm ID as well– the man was set on letting him sleep on the front porch of the dormitory once and it took Renjun 15 calls to get ahold of a sleeping Donghyuck and another 15 of him walking down the hall in slippers and pajama bottoms with his roommate’s dorm ID in hand before he could warm his bones from the cold slowly seeping into his bones on the January night– and that whole thing makes Renjun somehow even more angry at the whole situation.
And so when he comes into his room again, Donghyuck now sitting on his bed still in his outside clothes (something Renjun hates and would murder for), and his eyes land on the damaged canvas still waiting for him in the corner of the room, he wastes no time in opening his window and throwing it down from the second floor, not really caring where it ends up or if he’s gonna get a fine for violating one of the dormitory rules– to never throw stuff out of the windows..
“Dude, what is–”
“Don’t ask.” Renjun huffs as he closes the door and peels his clothes off, taking a towel that’s still hanging from the top bunk of their bed and aims towards the bathroom door. A true tantrum can only end in a cold shower, and that’s what Renjun’s gonna do as he washes his dreams down the drain and ends up silently crying himself to sleep tonight in agony.
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It’s hard to believe Huang Renjun is currently at the best college party since the days of ‘megaparties’ of Johnny Suh, the senior that’s slowly halting his party performance due to stilling in life. Renjun was dragged to Lee Jeno’s party by his roommate Donghyuck after he mourned in his bed for approximately two days before it got too much for the poor gemini, promising and honestly thinking that alcohol is truly the best solution for the poor boy’s misery. Again, it’s hard to believe Huang Renjun is currently at the best college party of the year when he listens to the loud EDM music piercing through his eardrums and he swears he catches a glimpse of a couple dry humping on the couch.
Because he’s not.
He’s at a college party, sure. He’s also getting some alcohol into his system– because why not, am I right? He’s not the one paying, and that’s always enough of a reason to drink. Is it the best college party he’s ever experienced, though? Absolutely not.
It’s quite literally the worst party he’s ever been to. The music is too loud and the whole house smells of cheap vodka, people are pushing each other around and with the amount of alcohol in his system, the whole room feels like he’s on a boat, his stomach weak and his eyes hazy. Renjun must admit Hyuck’s therapy skills are kind of paying off– because at least now he’s not thinking about the wasted opportunity of a summer scholarship and is instead looking into the eyes of his cute classmate from History class across the room– but at the same time, he’s not thinking much of anything in this moment, and the glint of your eyes is the only thing he can focus on when you get closer.
That might be a good or a bad thing– depends on how the encounter goes. There’s a fine line between the amount of alcohol that’s just perfect for Huang Renjun to get rid of his usual shyness and speak to other, much more attractive human species, and the amount of alcohol that’s just perfect for Huang Renjun to black out and puke on the floor, efficiently making it impossible for him to chat up the cute classmate he’s been eyeing the whole semester and ruining his chances of ever being seen in a good light in front of the said person ever again. He prays intensely that he hasn’t crossed the line yet when you open your mouth and speak to him in the crowded kitchen.
“Renjun!”
“Y/N!” he tries to mimic your tone, a flashy grin settling onto his face when you approach him first. You two aren’t strangers, after all– you’ve sat together in class during various exams and also accidentally bumped into each other in the cafeteria, but what were your courageous attempts in making conversation with him and efficiently trying to make him more interested in you didn’t lead to your desired goal of getting invited out by him, instead leading him to think you’re just that friendly to everyone and not just him, making the chances of him taking the next step that much slimmer. Not tonight, though– he really must have had too much to drink.
“How are you?” you ask, clearing your throat as you bump into someone and decide to shift closer to Renjun, making the boy’s breathing hitch in his throat.
“Wonderful,” he gasps, and for some reason, the response laced in irony makes an excited laugh escape your throat, and the more he listens to your bubbly giggle, the more he wishes he did music instead of fine arts, because maybe if he was competent enough, he could mimic the sound in one of his songs and replay it over and over even when you’re not around. 
“That sounds very genuine,” you note, which makes the boy laugh in return, making him wonder if maybe he could have the same effect on you– if you’re smiling wider now because of the sound of his laughter, or if you’re just amused at something completely else. 
It’s pathetic, really– the gloomy boy that was trailing to this party behind his roommate Donghyuck is nowhere to be seen now, instead replaced by the cheap imitation of a ray of sunshine that you brought out of him only with the magic of a few words and the few drops of alcohol on his tongue.
“Oh, trust me, it was genuine,” he teases, and you only nod to his attempt at masking his obviously saddened composure from before.
“Having a rough week?” you ask, and you sound truly interested– something Renjun hasn’t found in the tone of his roommate when he insisted on dragging him here– and maybe that’s the reason why he just shrugs and decides to come clean and be honest with you. You seem like that kind of person that wouldn’t make fun of his troubles, the kind of person that would genuinely want to help– although he’s not seeking counseling tonight, he figures he can talk a bit about his shitty mood if it means that it gets the conversation flowing.
“A rough life, actually,” he snickers before he sees you eye him with a concerned look, “just joking,” he adds before he retracks back and fixes his initial answer. “Some things didn’t work out the way I wanted them to, so I’m kind of moping around for a bit.”
You seem to feel empathetic towards the boy, nodding and pouting at his confession. “Well, I hope things get fixed for you, Jun,” you mumble, tone of voice encouraging– and maybe he could dwell at the caring nature of you a little longer, only if it wasn’t for your use of a nickname for him that just oh so sweetly rolls of your tongue and Renjun wishes he could legally change his name to the nickname so he could listen to the way it sounds forever– scratch that, to the way it sounds from your mouth forever, which means he won’t change it, just so it’s reserved for you and only you to say.
“What about you, though?” he finds himself asking in the midst of his inner screeching.
“Me? I’m great, totally fine, having the time of my life,” you emphasize, the over-the-top expression on your face making the boy burst into laughter as you wave your arms around as if to show him your surroundings. “I am a party person for sure, you know, so this is perfect,” you joke, and Renjun seems to get the memo. If he’s being honest, he’s not sure he’s ever seen you at a party before– not that he goes to many himself, which might honestly be the reason, actually– you could just be at different parties in different times that hadn’t overlaid, but by the way you’re currently tensely sipping at the alcohol in your hand, he figures you’re not too familiar with the scene of college partying.
“Who forced you to go? Was it your roommate?” Renjun remembers the girl from another one of his classes– you two were always walking around together and often got to class at the same time. Figuring out that you two lived together wasn’t as difficult, and she surely seems to be the more extroverted one.
“No, actually,” you say, eyes glimmering when he seems to remember the girl you share a room with, “to my surprise, honestly. It was another one of my friends– Na Jaemin, not sure if you know him– but the moment we got here, he disappeared and left me alone to deal with my thoughts,” you click your tongue and Renjun finds himself totally mesmerized with you– amazed with everything about you; the way you talk, the way you lean on the counter and watch him with stars in your eyes (which might just be the reflections of the kitchen lights, but don’t tell him that), the way you slightly lean into him when he cracks a joke and earns a laugh out of you…
“They always do that,” Renjun scowls, “they drag the introvert in and then force them to survive on their own…” he shakes his head in disappointment, clearly distraught over the situation. 
“Exactly! But if you ask them to come with you to a picnic, or to the library, they decline the offer. So much for being good friends,” you roll your eyes. Renjun finds himself smiling, and although he must admit that as every other college student, he himself would decline an invitation to a library if anyone asked, he’s like 99% certain that if it was you uttering out the question, he wouldn’t miss a heartbeat before joyfully jogging there with you. 
“Ask me next time,” he blurts out, a poor attempt at flirting, “I wouldn’t say no.”
And it seems like tonight is the night where you suddenly get the last kick of courage needed when you talk to Renjun– maybe fueled by his coy smile when he said the previous comment, maybe just acting out on pure hormones– tonight's the night where he breathlessly takes your offer, still not thinking much of it, but igniting a curious spark in his own heart nonetheless, when you scratch the back of your neck in the last residue of anxiety, scrunching your nose at him and mumbling under your nose, barely heard above the loud music resonating through the living room. “Do you wanna sneak into my dorm room, then?” 
Renjun almost chokes at your question– visitors in the dormitory are only allowed until midnight and as far as he’s aware, the clock is well after 2 AM right now, and he’s a male visitor, which is even more off the bounds in the eyes of the fierce woman guarding the entrance of the girl’s dormitory building. The more he stares at you, the more you seem to translate his silence into disagreement, which you panically try to undo with even more rambling. “I- I mean, since we both kind of hate this party and I think that if I drink more, I’m going to puke all over myself, so… My room is on the ground floor, so you can just climb in, if you wanted to. My roommate went home for the weekend, so there’s no one there, and we could– I mean, we don’t have to, honestly, but it’s kinda cold out and I thought we could both use a place more silent, ‘cause I really wanna head back now, but I don’t want to stop talking to you, y’know, and I don’t know if–”
“Okay, I’m down,” Renjun nods, efficiently shutting up your rambling, and when there’s a very apparent relief flashing over your face, he finds himself smiling in endearance at your antics, going as far as ruffling a hand through your hair in whatever kick the alcohol mixed with adrenaline gave him before you have him dragging his feet out of the house, both of your feet shuffling towards the campus.
The walk isn’t long, but he finds himself enjoying it. The condensation coming out of your mouths at the chilly weather serves more to the atmosphere when the both of you giggle out at absurd jokes and gossip, your voice breaking into soft hums when you sing a song under your breath in moments of silence that somehow feel both kind of awkward, but also kind of pleasant. He drags you by your hand to the other side of the sidewalk when a car passes by and you jump in surprise, eyes wide and glossy, mouth a little agape in an open-mouthed grin when his fingers stay intertwined with yours and you adjust your purse on your other shoulder, clearing your throat before you try to nonchalantly continue on with the conversation.
“I’ll go inside now,” you announce when you get to the girl’s dormitory building, breaking apart from the eager boy and coming closer to him when you confide the secret, “I’ll turn the light on in my room when I get there, so make sure to look out for the window. I’ll help you in, don’t worry,” you smile at him, and before he has a chance to reply, you disappear behind the glass door with a pep in your step. 
Renjun finds himself sighing– now is the moment when he should realistically get relief, the moment when he’s supposed to relax for at least a second and prepare himself for whatever might happen in your dorm room– but when he slowly walks over to the left wing of the building and squints at the dark squares of windows, he wonders how in the hell he’s gonna climb in. Escaping out will be an easy task– the windows aren’t that high up– but coming in will be the problem. He guesses it’s the same with the whole situation– he bets the easiest part of the whole evening will be jumping out and running to his own room– how to survive the night in your presence and not go completely insane, he doesn’t know and wishes he had a manual to before he agreed to do this in the first place.
When the light goes on in one of the rooms and you wave at him from the inside, he finds himself involuntarily jogging towards the window, gears in his brain turning faster than the speed of light when he reaches the wall and you grin at him, opening the window and offering him your hand. 
“If you grip the edge of the window and give me your hand, you can get in easily,” you say, watching as the boy cautiously looks around himself and scratches the back of his neck, mentally calculating his next movements.
“Have you done this before?”
“No,” you bashfully shake your head, “but my roommate did it twice, so I don’t think it’s that hard,” you note and nod at him, waiting for him to finally take action. 
Renjun finds himself doing what he’s been told– and even though he huffs and almost falls over to his back (which would kill him, he thinks, since his physique is very close to a turtle’s), victory fills his veins when one of his legs finally ends up in your window, his body stumbling forward and almost toppling you over when the warmth of your room welcomes him as he lands on top of your desk. 
“Welcome,” you laugh at him when he shakes his head in disbelief and takes off his coat, dropping it on top of the wooden table and watching you close the window behind him, so the cold doesn’t get in. 
“That’s one way of inviting guests over, I guess,” he teases you, watching as you roll your eyes at him and go over to one of the beds. Renjun notices the room is different to the one he shares with Donghyuck– you and your roommate have two beds instead of a bunk one, the table is right under the window and you get a little more space over-all. You turn on the little lamp kept on your bedside table, and the boy watches you with interest as you cautiously walk around your own room as if it’s your first time seeing it, reminding him a little of a deer in the headlights, clueless and suddenly out of ideas.
Renjun finds himself laughing at your behavior– he finds himself endeared by it, the way you play with your fingers in nerves and try to think of anything to do in the intimacy that suddenly envelopes you when you invite someone over to your dorm room in the middle of the night– and when you aimlessly end up standing in front of him, your big eyes even bigger and glossier than before, he snickers at the state of you and shakes his head.
“Okay, so I know I was the one who invited you over, but now I’m kind of helpless in what we should actually do and all…” you giggle, a little embarrassed when you bear your eyes into his, your body subconsciously slotted in between his legs, his position leaning on the edge of the table allowing you and inviting you to do so. 
“You’re cute,” he laughs at you, and before you have a chance to question him about the compliment, he has you silenced abruptly by his next actions.
“What do you–”
His hand is gripping your jaw and he leans into you, the newly found courage and affection towards you having him drunk on more than the alcohol, but also your whole presence– the way your hair smells when he’s this close to you, the way you pull the sleeves of your sweater further down when you don’t know what to do with your hands, the shyness in your gaze now that you have him in your cage– and his lips act on themselves when they press themselves against yours, soft but firm, tasting the strawberry juice mixed with vodka off your mouth, a surprised gasp against his lips more than enough to invite him even further in.
He feels your fingers tugging at his shirt and your skin growing hot under his touch, leaning back from you a little and finding you looking at him with a thousand different galaxies in your eyes, enough of a confirmation to him, but he’s a man– he still needs it vocally, when he grins lazily at you. “Was this one of the things you thought about when you invited me over?”
“Maybe…” you tug at your bottom lip with your teeth, a clearly battled grin trying to settle its way onto your lips.
“You should’ve just said so, then,” he smiles when he leans into you again, a little more confidently this time and kisses you again, again and again.
You stay under the window for a while, lips pressed hard against each other as you try to learn the curves of each other’s mouths by memory, lazy hands threaded into his hair and an arm around your waist now, steadying you in place. Foreheads pressed against each other when you break away for air, giggles resonating through the room when his lips make their way towards your neck and the softness of his hair tickles your skin, fingers threaded when you tug him towards your bed and you watch him kick his shoes off before you follow him onto the soft mattress.
His head falls into your pillow and you straddle his lap, your hair falling into your face when you look down at him from your position, the newly found dominance in your position charging you with unexplainable energy, and Renjun can’t help but smile at you sweetly when your eyes meet and you eagerly lean down towards him, fingers once again intertwined with his, hands laying next to his head. Your breath fans his swollen lips that you once again find yourself attacking, the contact overwhelming you and making it hard to breathe. Who knows how long the both of you have wanted to do this but never had the courage to– it’s a miracle that it’s even happening tonight.
And with the built-up desire, you act instinctively– hands breaking away from his when you grip his cheeks and give him one last peck, lips now traveling down his jaw and neck instead, having the boy shivering under the contact, your actions slowly but surely driving him crazy when you find his sweet spot and you get a satisfied gasp from him, a reward for your tonight’s efforts.
His hand grips your hip, and something about the burn of his fingers even through the fabric of your jeans makes you move on instinct, earning yourself a sharper hiss this time that doesn’t make you stop, however– quite the opposite, actually– as you break into a wide grin at the very evident effect you have on him, your movements slow and painful, but still having him harden under you.
Goosebumps appear all over your skin when his cold fingers capture the skin of your stomach when he aimlessly tries to find a place in your body to ground yourself, but the more he answers to your movements, the more encouraged you get. He tugs you back down so you’re facing him, which does nothing to halt your painful pace as he drags out yet another kiss from you. 
“If we don’t stop now, it’s gonna be really hard for me to do so later,” Renjun huffs into your ear, which only gets you more excited.
“Who said I want to stop?” you ask him, fingers trailing up his side over his shirt, yet still making him fire up and flush in his cheeks. “Do you want to stop?”
“Do I look like I wanna stop?” he snickers, shaking his head in utter disbelief, hand traveling dangerously close to the cup of your breast.
“Let’s continue, then,” you muse, peeling yourself off him only the slightest amount, hands dragging themselves down his body until you reach the waistband of his pants, gently dragging the fabric down until he’s left in front of you only with a tent in his underwear, big eyes curiously and breathlessly watching you in your actions. He could be a gentleman and tell you you don’t have to, tell you to stop and come back up and that he will pleasure you first, but the more he watches you as you palm him over the thin fabric of his boxer briefs with the dangerous doe eyes of yours, the less he wants to do just that. In all reality– who is he to deny a blowjob from you? Or anyone, for that matter?
His whole body shudders under your touch, actions careful, but so painfully satisfying. Renjun watches your face with his bottom lip trapped between his teeth, the reality of it all sobering him up and making him aware of each shift of your body, each centimeter your fingertip travels against his skin, each motion that slowly makes a bundle of nerves appear in his stomach. It only gets too much for him when you lean on your elbows, nails gently pricking the skin of his thighs as your mouth hesitantly greets his dick, and he feels like a virgin again when his eyes peel off you just in case he finishes just by watching you blowing him off like a highschooler at his first blowjob, forcing himself to watch the ceiling instead.
Eyes traveling all over your room– the closed window opposite of him, the bed on the other side of the room, the walls above your bed– he gets lost in the galaxy drawn on a piece of paper that’s plastered right above your pillowcase, and another graphite sketch of eyes bearing right into your soul, as if they were watching him in the act, and another one, of a deer that looks through the shade of the trees, before it hits him.
“Oh my god what the fuck–” he gasps, and his tone must have sounded too different to the satisfied moans that have been spilling out of his mouth up until now, because you abruptly stop your movements and your gazes lock, your eyes completely mortified.
“Am I doing something wrong?”
“Oh– Oh god no, fuck, you’re doing amazing, trust me,” apologies spill off his tongue at your distressed state, “it’s just– where… where did you get these?” he asks, pointing towards all the drawings taped all over your walls that he failed to notice in the heat of the moment before.
“Oh,” you cluelessly hum, eyebrows furrowed, “I found them spilling out of a trashcan close to the boy’s dorms when I was walking to class one morning, and they were so pretty I had to take them.”
“I– you like these?” Renjun asks, full of strange surprise and genuine curiosity. You’re now sitting back on your heels and looking at the boy with big eyes, still slightly clueless and very much in a weird state of distress– because why would a man ask you about the random artwork on your wall in the middle of a mindblowing blowjob?– before you nod with a slight pout, agreeing.
“Well, I wouldn’t have decorated my room with them if I didn’t like them, y’know… Why are you… why are you asking?”
“Oh,” Renjun repeats again, a dumbfounded look taking over his soft features before he sits up on the bed and scoots closer to you, a weird sense of euphoria spilling out every vein of his body when the held-back dopamine is released into his system. A wide grin appears on his lips before he stares into your eyes with a milky way mirroring behind his eyeballs, glittering orbs haphazardly gliding over your face before he reaches your lips again, pecking them one, two, three times before you break away and look at him with furrowed eyebrows, a slight crease right in between them.
“What are you–”
“I think I’m gonna literally cum just at hearing those words, Y/N,” he blurbs out before he kisses the tip of your nose again, completely endeared and close to a happy boy under the Christmas tree, and while you may enjoy that look on him, you’re still slightly confused. Huang Renjun sighs almost a little too dreamingly and smooths the wrinkle between your eyebrows with a careful swipe of his thumb, still not giving you any explanation.
“Renjun, I’m afraid I’m not quite following why this is so important to you right now,” you mumble, having your partner laugh airly– just as if all his worries escaped through the window and you fixed his life with a few drawings plastered on your wall.
“Those, dear Y/N,” he points towards the papers stuck to your walls, eyeing the specific one he worked for 3 hours on and kind of mourned the morning after he realized he threw it away, months of practice and art that maybe wasn’t even that bad in the first place ending up in the trash because of a fit of rage, “are all mine. Mine as in, I drew them… And then threw them out in the middle of a slight mental breakdown.”
You look at him for a few heartbeats, eye contact never breaking before you avert your gaze towards the artwork on the walls– it takes you a few seconds before it hits you– and you gasp, hurriedly looking back at the artist in front of you, stars glimmering in your eyes now as well, matching his excitement. “Oh my god, are you for real?”
“Yeah.”
“You drew all of these?”
“Yeah,” he nods again, breathless.
“This is an insane coincidence,” you snicker, and Renjun didn’t know he had it in him– maybe it’s still the effect of alcohol that slips off his tongue when he speaks– but he cages you in his arms as he kisses you again, a whole new world appearing in front of him when the cheesiness meets the comfort of your walls.
“You’d call this a coincidence?” he hums. “Maybe it was fate.”
Earning himself a sharp laugh, almost mocking him as you swat his shoulder, you fall back with him towards the mattress, and while the heated moment might be gone, you don’t mind at all. Renjun looks at you with a certain softness in his eyes, a pride swelling in his chest, and for a moment, it’s true and you truly did open up a new reality for him and changed his life forever, fixed all of his problems, if you will, because the appreciation it takes for a girl to tape up at least 20 of his messy artworks onto her wall after finding the stash in the trashcan on her way to class might just be the encouragement he needed to keep going with the craft. 
It’s hard to believe that this shitty party actually brought him somewhere– not only to your bed, but also to your life, to a beginning of something new and a restart in something he thought he’d forever be giving up on.
“So… Do you need those back? Because I kinda like them here,” you giggle, and the crinkle of his eyes is enough of an answer to you.
“You can keep them. I’ll just draw new ones you can look at,” he muses, stealing another kiss from you and squeezing your hip, having you squeal against his mouth.
“Now, to get back to what we were doing before–”
890 notes · View notes
spookypete-94 · 5 months
Text
Take a Picture
Scareactor!GhostxFem!reader
Reader is a professional photographer hired out at a haunted theme park where she catches the eye of one of our favorite masked men.
Inspired by a TikTok I saw that I can not find for the life of me! Will do a part 2 tomorrow if time allows it. Feeling festive :)
Happy Halloween!!
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"$1,500."
"For the weekend??" Y/N asked eagerly. After starting her own business, money was tight. Wedding season had slowed down from the change of seasons, and senior pictures would be her next pick-up in the spring.
"For the weekend," the manager of the theme park said before continuing, "if things stay busy and the weather is good, we will ask you back for the next weekend. Does that work?"
"Absolutely!" Y/N said, without any hesitation. Fuck yeah! Was what she wanted to say.
"Great, shift brief starts at 4 PM before the park gets dark. If you want to attend to see how we operate, you are more than welcome."
"I'll be there." Pleasantries were exchanged before the phone was hung up. She felt like she was riding on cloud 9. Gathering her camera equipment, flashes, and extra batteries and a few lenses, nearly skipping out the door to her car. The money would be nice, but how many people get to take pictures at a Halloween event at a theme park for their portfolio as well?
The autumn air was crisp on her skin, the sky bright blue with Toy Story clouds in them. This felt promising for her, and she loved the feeling. She gave up her hated job and moved on to her dream career as her own boss, making her hobby into her life choice.
Pulling into the theme park, she immediately noticed the dark aesthetic, further feeding her anticipation for the next two nights. The black metal gates at the entrance decorated with twinkling purple lights. Seeing what appeared to be a group of workers, she gathered her things and followed them I'm.
"Y/N?" Someone asked as she walked through, assuming it was the person she talked to on the phone.
"Yes," she said, sticking out her hand to shake the other person's
"Thought so with that camera around your neck, come with me, have some information and papers for you to sign before you get started." The woman turned on her heel waiting for y/n to follow.
"My name's Kate. Basically, we want jump scare shots if you can get them and some candids of the actors. We will take your pictures at the end of the night and place a watermark on them. If the customers want to buy them, then they can. Sound good?"
Kate kept walking at a fast pace, heading to what looked like an office.
"Yeah, totally," she nodded.
Once inside, she sat down and signed the proper paperwork.
"Stay out of the actors' way if you can help it. They can get pretty into it and don't want you hurt. Wear this mask," she said, sliding a black and red formal mask to her. "I've already shown them this mask so they understand you're here to photograph, not to be scared. Alright?"
"Got it." She said taking the mask and looking at it. It was flat black with red sparkles outlining it. Black ribbon used to tie it back.
"They should all be in the meeting room, I'll lead you there and then you should be good to go."
Standing up once more, she followed Kate. Heart pounding in her chest, ready to get started.
It was almost like a locker room, men and women scattered through it. Most were in actual costumes that would frighten anyone, fake blood spattered across fabric or skin. Full masks of different creatures on their shoulders.
One of them caught her eye, however. He was shirtless but wearing black pants. Red over his tattooed arms and hands, making it look like he had freshly killed someone. His eyes were brown, like the leaves in the trees right now, the only feature she could see of his face from the skull mask he had on.
Instantly, her breathing hitched. It was like her heart stopped, making her stand still. Awkwardly moving in, realizing that people were watching her move now.
She tried to make herself small, standing in a corner. Listening to who was designated in what area and when everyone would rotate around, trying to pay attention to the map. Her eyes kept wandering over to the large man that was built like a Greek God, finding she wasn't able to control herself. The brown eyes glanced over to her, making her hair stand on end. He caught her staring at him.
"Take a picture. It'll last longer." The voice in his chest rumbled.
She couldn't quite place if he was making a joke about her, or if he was upset with her for staring.
"S-sorry," she stuttered out quietly, turning to face the speaker once more. Shortly after her apology, the meeting was over. He walked past her, shadow looming over, making a chill across her skin.
Kate must have seen their interaction. "Don't mind him. He comes across gruff sometimes but mostly just sticks to himself."
Y/N nodded, readying herself, doing one last check through things ready to get the night started. Tying her mask around her face, she walked out into the main courtyard.
It started off amazing. People come through the gates in waves. Laughing to herself when people were scared by the actors, but then stopping her with them when they wanted their picture taken. It was beautiful to her, even as it was creepy. People were having a good time spiking their adrenaline, and she got to capture it. It made her earlier embarrassing moment go away. She had completely forgotten about it... until it was shift change, and there he stood. Making her stomach feel like it had just rolled.
Underneath his mask, he was smiling. Seeing the fear strike her face. It was what he lived for... but she was untouchable... for now.
She told herself to move past it. Getting paid was important. It didn't stop her. She took her photos of him in awe of his ability to just intimidate his victims, bolting after them, making them run away. His chuckle in his chest made her body heat up in such a way. Heart throbbing at the sight of him.
The night is coming to its end. The clock striking midnight at the park, the bells rolling off in the distance. It was like it signified something to him. She watched his head turn around to her, his eyes wicked. Taking large steps, he approaches, rolling his shoulders in the same manner that he did when he picked his next target. Her eyes were wide, and she turned and tried to run, unable to process what he was doing. He grabbed her arm and pulled him to her, where he then backed her up into the corner of a garden and a doorway. Hands now on either side of her head, all she could do was look up at him and breathe. Even that was hard to do.
"You get your picture, finally sweet girl?" His voice rasped. "Get my good side, did ya? I get to take pictures of you next, right?" He said, taking the camera of her shoulders and lifting it over her head. He snapped a few photos of her before leaning in further, lips now brushing her ear through his mask.
"Would like to take different photos of you...if you're interested." With that, he turned on his heel, walking away now. Just leaving her alone with her thoughts... all she could think was-
And I get to do this again tomorrow.
part 2
Simon Ghost Riley Masterlist
259 notes · View notes
apocalypse-shuffle · 2 months
Text
BLACK NOIR | EARVING (the boys)
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“Promotion” (Black Noir x Fem!Reader)
| Being Black Noir’s new handler and him becoming obsessed with you since Mr. Edgar himself assigned you to him.
| SFW, vought employee!reader, (TW: Noir is kind of stalking the Reader, who’s uncomfortable but adapting mostly)
| 1k+ words
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“You want me to…what?”
“Be Noir’s new personal handler.” He fans his hands out on the table with a shrug and gives you a disarming smile. “You’ll be expected to parlay direct mission instructions from me, accompany him to said missions and stay with the deployment team. I expect you to give written reports on his performance at the end of every day, active mission or not…”
Your eyes continue to widen as his barrage keeps going. This job would require you to be present for everything short of Noir wiping his ass and even then you’ll be outside the restroom.
Mr. Edgar finishes, gives you an expectant look, and you clear your throat.
“And, what if I don’t want the new position?”
“I don’t see why not.” He shrugs, “I mean unless you don’t think you’re good enough for the promotion. Then I suppose I’ll just have to tell Ashley her recommendation was for naught.”
You laugh.
“No no, that’s fine. There’s no need to tell her anything…” you gulp, watching the man just look back at you before taking a second more to inhale, “…ex-cept that her recommendation payed off.”
He tilts his head and it feels like his eyes are boring through your own, boiling your brain to mush. Your voice is small as you push the rest of your words out in one exhale.
“And that I’ll be starting my new position tomorrow. Sir.”
You stretch a smile across your face and hiss out a sigh of relief as that finally gets the man to respond.
He instantly reanimates, reaching atop his desk to hand you a secure black portfolio made from hard plastic.
“That’s great. I’m glad you decided to take on this new journey, Ms. L/n. May it serve you well. Have a good day.”
You don’t dare drop your smile as you take the offered portfolio and shove it under your arm.
“Right.” You take a moment to mourn the loss of your old job before nodding, “Thank you for the opportunity, Sir. You have a good day as well.”
The older man nods back at you, attention immediately gone back to his computer monitor afterward. You blow out air from your nose and then turn on your heels.
It’s not until you’ve left the board room that it hits you.
“Shit.”
The man had just played you. Goddamn Edgar and his resoluteness. Once he’d decided to “ask” you about the upgrade in position he never intended for it to be an actual request.
You rub your temple and head to the restroom. At least you had the rest of the hours in the day before tackling your new job.
You hunker down in the stall after peeing to look over the papers Mr. Edgar gave you. As you're skimming through a whole lot of shit marked “classified” or “redacted” you have the stray thought to be glad that Translucent’s creep ass wasn’t here to ogle you and be all in your business anymore.
Thank the higher power for small mercies, you suppose.
All the snippets of information you're gathering are kind of baffling. Legal name: Earving (of all things), biological male, six foot two, African-American (that’s fun; may be the reason he took such a liking to you too, not many black people made it to the top floors of Vought after all). You dog-ear a packet about some sort of imaginary animals he sees in his mind before looking over a page about a severe peanut allergy. Hmm.
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By the end of the day you’ve nearly gotten all the way through Noir’s portfolio, and you’ve also worked up an itch to get out of your skin that means you’re not working overtime worth a goddamn.
At six o’clock on the dot all of your crap is already quite thoroughly packed, your former workspace - barren thing that it already was due to regulations - was cleaned out and ready for the next poor soul, and you’re in the elevator heading for the sub-level garage.
Dead stare locked onto the floor numbers you become acutely aware of the bags weighing your eyes down.
“Fuck,” you sigh.
Black Noir's Personal Handler.
Despite Mr. Edgar’s clear efforts it was more than a little known open secret that personal handlers rarely got to retire. Madelyn Stillwell’s death might’ve been something none of you dared discuss for fear of either Edgar or - heaven forbid - Homelander catching wind and putting you back in your place, but it was a pattern of the job that you all were well aware of.
Though you’d take Mr. Edgar’s culling over whatever Homelander could possibly come up with.
Something about his blonde, blue-eyed, ass didn’t sit right with your spirit.
Far as PR and wrangling went though, short of maybe Starlight, any wrinkles Black Noir managed to make would be the easiest to smooth out.
Plus, even with you and Noir having some form of a pre-established relationship it was in no way dependent or built upon you being Noir’s emotional epicenter like Madelyn and Homelander’s weird…dynamic was.
You had seen and heard far too much in your years working for Vought to think for a second that there wasn’t something dark and twisted going on with The Seven, but Noir still seemed mellow in comparison to the rest and their constant ego trips and dick measuring.
You had zero clue how letting the fully covered man teach you a few notes to a song at the Christmas party when everyone was drunk off eggnog and watered down booze and sitting with him when he was crying on the floor once led you to this.
Sure the silent man and you had somewhat hit it off - so far as you were one of the few non-supers he didn’t intimidate or just flat out ignore - but to be made so intimately in charge of him seemed like a bit much.
Noir had seemed endlessly patient with you as he played for you and then eventually decided he’d teach you how to play the piano yourself, the sides of your bodies’ shifting incrementally until you were pressed flush to one another in both of yous concentration, so you could really only hope he kept that same levelness with you as his handler.
You bank the corner, work bag and portfolio on the same arm, and fish out your keys so you can unlock your trunk and shove your shit inside.
Hope truly was the name of the game here unfortunately. You could only hope Noir kept up his “good” streak, and that that streak wasn’t just a farce that you were now in charge of covering up. Hope that he didn’t end up getting angry or reckless and making you one of those *redacted* cases with a ‘cause of death, unknown’ attached to your name, because you could do nothing to stop him if he wanted to kill you.
Shiver racking up your spine and turning your blood to static, you snap your trunk closed, turning to leave when—
“—Fucking Christ!”
Eyes gone wide and spit having nearly choked you from your sharp inhalation before your exclamation, you do your best to appear composed as Black Noir himself steps out from a conclave of shadows to stand in front of you.
The Devil, you find yourself thinking. Had he been following you this whole time?
For his part Noir doesn’t move aside from cocking his head to the side.
Steadily, you force calmness onto yourself. Ignoring that your voice is too high when you call his name.
“Black Noir,” you say, trying to seep the professionalism back into your tone while smoothing down the creases in your pantsuit, “surprised to see you here. What can I do for you?”
The smile you offer him feels wonky even as you command the muscles up, but it’s the best you can do with your heart hammering against your chest as if it wants to run off and leave you behind.
For a couple more beats the man doesn’t do more than size you up presumably before finally - as you were weighing the pros and cons of just getting in your car despite his presence - raising a hand to point at your trunk.
You catch on to his meaning fairly quickly, your smile dropping to something more natural whilst you huff a tiny laugh.
“Oh yeah, guess Mr. Edgar must’ve told you. I’m your new handler - you know, if you had one before that is. I don’t…actually know…” you trail off, shifting on your heels when Noir only continues to keep his stillness.
“Mhm,” you mutter, rocking backwards, just staring until finally Noir shifts and there’s suddenly a pad and pen in his hand.
He flips casually to a clear page before starting to write and you’re fairly sure this is the first time he’s ever actually ‘talked’ to you.
Huh.
Not long after does the pad get flipped over and brandished to you. You click your teeth together.
‘Edgar says you’ll do good,’ he scribbles, writing absolute chicken scratch and letters far too large on the medium sized pages, before flipping the pad back to himself and writing some more.
‘Believe in you!’ and a whole bunch of smiley faces is what meets you once he lets you see.
You blink. Noir puts the pad back wherever he had it initially to give you two thumbs up.
You muster a slightly bigger half smile for his efforts.
“Thanks Noir,” you say, words more sincere than you’d been expecting.
A nod and an eternity more of silence and staring is what he gives you in response.
You’re getting ready to shift, to awkwardly relay that you’d like to be getting home soon, when Noir stiffens suddenly - and isn’t that startling, a man so tall and so strapped with sharp explosive deadly things going so alert like that - head tilting like he’s listening for something.
A few seconds go by like that where he doesn’t do anything else and you fight to keep yourself still, smile gone and part of your lip caught firmly between your teeth.
Then Noir’s giving you a nod and leaving just as silently and unseenly as he had come.
You wait another two-three beats before scrambling into your car. The sound of your lock engaging sounds like salvation and the steering wheel feels like a lifeline as you grip it with stiff nearly foreign fingers.
God.
You force a deep breath into your lungs, make sure it comes out more steadily than it came in.
At least Mr. Edgar didn’t dump you onto Homelander’s lap. Something in you shrivels up and dies at the mere prospect. You nod, your hands flexing on the steering wheel.
This was definitely better.
NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!!
This is a semi companion story to “Pandora’s Melody” if you’d like to check that one out as well.
btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it!
116 notes · View notes
belovaskitkat · 7 months
Text
Brushes
Summary: part one of my studio sessions AU, meeting Wanda and making ends meet as a broke college student
Characters: Wanda Maximoff x female!reader, brief mentions of Natasha and Carol
Word Count: 3k
Warnings: 18+!!! minors DNI!! cuteness but also mentions of masturbation
masterlist | wanda maximoff masterlist |
studio sessions masterlist
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The magenta paper with brand new tabs stared you back in the face as you contemplated your next move. The diner you worked at nightly was not enough to help pay for your expenses such as school books and even tuition. You needed another income and why not start there; the bulletin board slathered in advertisements and job positions. Sure it was cliche. But at this point what choice did you have? There were all sorts of options to choose from, dog walking, baby sitting, tutoring; the works. You’d done them all over the years, saving every penny desperately wanting to attend your dream school. And now that you were there, you needed to keep it that way.
“Thinking of becoming an art department model?” A raspy voice asked from behind you.
You jumped in place, having assumed you were alone the entire time. Just you and the crowded bulletin board of new possibilities and dreams. “Uh… maybe?”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you! Wanda by the way. I just finished posting most of the flyers,” she said, gesturing to the few she had left tucked beneath her arm. “You should contact the head of the department if you’re interested. She’s fantastic! And you get paid per session-” Wanda looked you up and down and she smirked. “You could totally do it.”
“Do what?”
“Be a portfolio model, silly!” Wanda said, nudging you with her elbow. Heat creeped into your face, slightly embarrassed at her assessment.
“Uhh.. thank you?”
“You’re so welcome. See you soon!”
You watched Wanda walk out the main doors of the lobby and were left flabbergasted at her bold assumption. ‘See you soon’, she’d said. As much as you didn’t want to hear an “I told you so,” you really needed the money. You gave the department head a call and set up your first modeling session for Thursday. That gave you plenty of time to stress and be slightly anxious and possibly change your mind.
That evening before the big day, you laid in bed trying to weigh the pros and cons of actually taking this position. Surely you weren’t going to be the only person they were setting up for the modeling gig and the pay was subsequently better than the few bucks a night at the diner; though you’d never quit, Shirley made your evenings better and it was a nice escape from the loneliness of your single dorm. Plus she allowed you to complete your homework and assignments in between the evening rushes. What could possibly go wrong? All you had to do was sit completely still for about 90 minutes a session and it seemed like you’d get to see Wanda again; solely based on your first interaction with her in the lobby of your dorm building. And who could complain about that?
Your thoughts were correct, Wanda sat front and center in the studio; awaiting your arrival patiently. You were in fact early thanks to your nerves and honest to goodness adrenaline. The small room was clearly meant for a one on one session, seemingly branching off from the main art classrooms. The studio was messy; with paint tubes and brushes everywhere, the stainless steel sink even covered in paint from years of use, the mess only adding to the charm. The windows were close to the high ceilings, allowing light to filter in along with some lamps, avoiding the fluorescent lights all together. You looked up and noticed you could hardly see the actual ceiling, which was just a bunch of exposed beams and pipes it seemed but there were lots of overgrown plants hanging from the beams, pots and planters that had been hung over the years just adding to the collection as students moved through their studies here. Blank canvases of every size lined the floors, leaning up against the wall, just waiting to be covered in art.
“Hi there,” Wanda said, smiling sweetly and breaking your trance about the room. “Ready to start?”
“Um.. well, no one has actually explained what I am to do here?” You looked down and shuffled your feet a little. Your nerves were starting to get the best of you and you began wringing your hands behind your back, a nervous habit you’d picked up in middle school that had stuck with you after all these years.
“I just need you to sit and look pretty for me; which shouldn’t be too hard for you to do,” Wanda said, smirking. Again, you felt your face heat up to that of a thousand suns it felt like, blushing profusely as Wanda complimented you. “I just need a basic pose today, I’m working on portraits and things so if you don’t mind if I pose you a bit, you can just have a seat on that stool there for me.”
You nodded in response, moving to sit on the stool and waited for Wanda to approach you. “Is it okay if I touch you?” she asked, looking into your eyes. You found yourself nodding at her request, knowing it would be easier for her to pose you than for her to give you instructions on how she wanted you to move. Wanda’s touch was gentle but her fingertips were also calloused from years of art; moving your arms and legs and head just the way she needed. “Perfect.”
The session went by quickly; Wanda was asking questions to get to know you and you were doing the same. It was easier to sit still than you thought it would be, watching her pencil sketch away on what might be the largest sketch pad you’d ever seen in your life. Talking to Wanda was almost like talking to an old friend, which in itself was crazy to you because you were normally so reserved. Something about the room and the endless sunlight and the quiet peacefulness brought it all together and made it feel easy. “Well, I’ve got what I need, love. You’re all set to go!”
“That was fast! Can I see?” you asked, curious as to what she put together on that large sketchbook.
“Not yet! But I do have something to ask you…” Wanda said quietly, looking at you softly.
“What is it, Wanda?”
“Would you mind perhaps…posing in the nude next time? It’s strictly for art purposes! I promise!” She said quickly, her eyes pleading.
“N-nude? As in…no clothes?” you asked, your eyes widened.
“It would just be for me…and it wouldn’t include your face! Just tasteful art… I really just need more portrait work for my portfolio and you sat perfectly and I just thought that maybe..”
“Can I think about it first?” you asked quietly.
“Yes!! Yes! Absolutely. Please do and I’ll see you here next Thursday again?” Wanda asked.
You nodded, the thoughts swirling in your head too much to say words aloud in the moment. Wanda smiled at you and turned to clean up her space. You hurried out the door and all but ran back to your dorm room. It was nice getting to know Wanda but no one (except one ex girlfriend in the past) had ever seen you nude. On one hand, Wanda was sweet and easy going and presumably talented; based on the art lying around the room. On the other hand… you don't even like seeing yourself naked, let alone letting other people do so. It’s just art though, right?
You’d even asked Shirley that evening what she thought of the idea, which was a bad idea in itself, as it caused her to derail any normal thoughts for the entirety of your shift, talking about how she used to pose nude for her artist ex boyfriend back when she was your age. You brushed her off and tried your best to focus on the rush currently sitting inside the small diner, but despite it all, it was also the only thought in your head as well.
The week came and went and you’d done your best to put the anxiety of it all out of your head, diving face first into your classwork and assignments. Thursday afternoon had finally arrived and you still hadn't made up your mind. Maybe a few ground rules with Wanda and if she agreed, then you would agree to do it. You stepped into the small studio, and noticed this time Wanda had some extra materials set up, a small table covered in brushes and a paint palette and various tubes of colors, ready for the session.
“Hello again,” Wanda said, stepping out from behind her easel. “Have you decided?” Wanda asked quietly.
“I think so. Is there a place I can change?” you asked timidly. You watched as Wanda’s smile took over her whole face.
“Is that a yes?!” She asked excitedly.
“Yes yes quickly before I change my mind instead of my clothes!” You said, smiling shyly.
“Uh I don't have a proper space, but I can just turn around and you let me know when you’re ready? I just need you to sit sideways, facing that window there-” she pointed with a long paintbrush, “-with your legs crossed, and hands folded in your lap if that's okay?”
“That sounds fine Wanda, thank you,” you said, blushing and still completely nervous to be nude in front of this almost total stranger. You’d gotten to know her somewhat with all the questions she asked last week, answering them to the best of your ability. Why is it so much harder to talk about yourself?
You quickly undressed, folding your clothing into a neat pile on top of your backpack, and sat the way you had been asked to, and signaled Wanda that you were ready. “Wow,” she whispered. “You are even more beautiful than I could have imagined.”
“Wanda!” you said, getting all shy and wanting to cover up but not wanting to ruin what she’d surprisingly already started. A shiver ran down your spine as you saw her stare at you through your peripheral vision, having been told to stare at the wall for this session. The shiver had caused your nipples to harden in the cool air of the studio and you hadn’t even noticed until Wanda said something.
“Are you cold? Should I turn the heat on a little? It gets a little stifling in here so I tend to leave it low,” She said, smiling at you.
“Why would you-” You looked down and were embarrassed yet again, observing your hardened nipples as you sat nude on the cold stool in the studio. Wanda giggled and continued painting.
“I actually like the addition if you don’t mind,” she said, her turn to have rosy cheeks now.
“You are the artist!” You said shyly, accepting your new fate now.
The room was quiet except for a few aggressive brush strokes here and there and the constant sloshing of water as Wanda rinsed her brush in a too small cup that she seemed to be getting all over the place. Her outfit was quite messy today in itself, a pair of worn down, paint covered shortalls was her look of choice, a backwards cap to keep her hair from her face with just a few loose tendrils down the sides. She really is stunning and if you were honest, you’d paint her too if you had the talent in return.
“You truly are so incredibly beautiful, love,” Wanda complimented you again. “The freckles that litter your body are perfectly placed and your posture is magnificent and the way your curves-” Wanda stopped and blushed, getting ahead of herself already.
“You’re just saying that so I'll sit for you again, aren't you Maximoff?” you teased, not truly believing any of the words she just said.
“No! I really do mean it! You’re absolutely perfect and I should stop talking before I put my foot further in my mouth!” Wanda blushed again and you did too, admiring the way she spoke about you in a truly artistic way. “May I get a closer look if you don’t mind? I just need a few details in some spots…”
“Uh… sure Wanda.. That's fine.” You were still nervous and you were worried now that she’d see the endless goosebumps covering your arms and the way your nipples still haven’t calmed down since she started. You had more than warmed up but her gaze was something setting you ablaze in a different way.
Wanda stepped close to you and did some humming, stepping around the stool to get a complete view of her subject. You blushed even further, Wanda’s eyes pausing on your breasts; watching as she nodded along to the thoughts in her head. You couldn’t see what was happening on her canvas nor what she was doing with her sloshing paint palettes and brushes but you figured she got what she needed.
“And that's it for the day!” Wanda mentioned brightly after a bit of silence. “Thank you so much for doing this for me! I have to ask though, if you’d be willing to sit the same next week so that I can finish this? I can only book the studio for a small amount of time and I actually have another class to attend despite how much I hate throwing clay and-”
“Yes,” you said, interrupting her.
“Y-yes?”
“Yes, we can finish this next time. Go do what you gotta do, Wanda!”
“You are the BEST! I’ll see you Thursday!”
That evening, Wanda got back to her dorm and could not get her mind off of you. You were perfect in every single way and she couldn’t believe she landed such a beautiful model for her portfolio. It wasn’t every day she stumbled across such art. However, the thoughts didn’t stay pure as she stepped into her shower. She leaned against the wall of the shower stall and imagined you were with her, staring at her like she was art this time instead. She let her hands wander across her abdomen, the water spraying her body as she stood. Her fingers reached her nipples, pulling on them gently and throwing her head back as she imagined you again, talking her through touching herself just for you. As the water began to run cold, she cursed and her eyes flew open, mentally slapping herself for having such thoughts about you.
However, on the other side of town in your own dorm room, you’d showered and gotten cozy in bed; thoughts of Wanda never leaving you either. The way she complimented you so easily, the way it felt so genuine in a way that she was truly fascinated with your body and all of your not so liked parts either. You sighed, knowing you shouldn’t do what you were about to do but you couldn’t help yourself. You slowly slid your hand into your shorts, touching yourself slowly, imagining Wanda’s hands instead; her gentle but calloused fingers running over your clit, slowly touching you in ways that you didn’t know would ever feel good. You couldn’t help but think of the brunette and what her skilled hands could do, even if it was wrong.
Saturdays were typically hell on earth at the diner, it was open late to accommodate all the ‘definitely not drunk’ college students and their friends, often forgetting to pay or not tipping at all. It wasn’t unusual for peers from your classes to stumble in throughout the night, along with the regulars Joes that frequented the diner who didn’t seem to mind the rowdy college kids. What you didn’t expect was to serve a table of Wanda and a few of her friends, tipsy and looking for a late night burger and milkshakes.
“Welcome ladies, what can I get started for you tonight?”
Wanda didn’t notice it was you at first but when she looked up her eyes widened and she smiled sweetly. “You, love.” she said, giggling. You rolled your eyes but your stomach did a flip at her bold remark.
“This is Natasha and this is Carol; they’re also art students with me!” Wanda said, smiling. The blonde and redhead looked way too intimidating for your liking.
“Ew Wands, I told you it’s just Nat. Only my parents call me my full name now,” the redhead argued.
“Ew wands-” Carol mocked. “You think you’re so cool now don’t you? Natasha isn’t even your real name you dumb bitch!”
You tried your best to hold back a chuckle and Wanda looked at you with ‘help me’ eyes as you took her order. “If you two don’t stop and order, you’re not getting anything at all!”
“Geez… yes mother,” Nat said, rolling her eyes playfully and shoving Wanda next to her.
“Nat, it's ‘Mommy’ , remember? You heard that one night when she-”
“That’s enough! Forget the food, we’re leaving. Good grief!” Wanda said, understandably embarrassed.
“Are- are you sure? It’s no problem at all,” you said, not quite ready for Wanda to leave.
“Honestly these two need to drink water and sleep this alcohol off before they say more stuff to embarrass me. Here-” she said, taking the napkin and the pen from your half apron. “-text me.” Wanda had scribbled down her number and you took it and placed it in your pants pocket for safe keeping.
You had Wanda’s phone number and you just met two of her close friends. Could this night get any more interesting? You watched as Wanda and her friends left the booth and slipped out the front door. However, it was only a moment later when Wanda stepped back inside, calling out for you.
“Why did I write my phone number on a napkin when I could’ve just asked for your phone?”
“I’m not quite sure Wanda,” you said giggling. You handed her your phone and she put her number in, and now she was sure you wouldn’t lose it. You texted her a simple ‘Hi :)’ so that she had your number as well.
“Come to a party tomorrow night. Please?” Wanda asked you.
“I- I have work… Wanda I’m..”
“Just promise me you’ll think about it okay?”
“Okay. I promise.”
Wanda leaned in and pressed a light kiss to your cheek and scurried out the front door again where she saw Carol and Nat making annoying little kissy faces at her, mocking her behavior and you laughed.
A party? It wasn’t your scene. It never has been. But you promised her you’d think about it. And a promise is a promise.
279 notes · View notes
hiveworks · 7 months
Text
Convention Guide: Basic Tabling Gear
September 2023
Whether you’re an artist alley newbie or you’ve been doing the convention circuit for years, putting together your table essentials is a crucial part of selling your wares at events and ensuring your weekend goes smoothly. In this guide, we’re covering the basics of setting up your first ever table.
This list is a non comprehensive assessment of things a tabler might need and should be used as a simple starting point. The four main categories we will cover are:
The Display
Behind the Table
Money
Quality of Life Suggestions
—🐝—
1. The Display
a) Tablecloth
Starting from the base layer, we’ve got tablecloths– an easy way to add some color and personality to your table. Your tablecloth doesn’t even have to be an actual tablecloth! You can use a length of fabric cut from a bolt at your local craft store. Convention tables tend to be 6’ long, so when selecting your fabric, look for measurements longer than 72” (183cm).
Play with color and texture to find something that fits the theme of your work on display. Patterns can be fun, but might distract from your inventory or signage if the colors/design are too bold and busy. Tip: your cloth may get messy from food behind the scenes or dust/dirt if you do outdoor events. Get something that’s easy to wash in your machine!
b) Display supports
Most artists these days use cube organizers that break apart into flat panels and connector joints. They are easy to store when not in use, easy to transport in a suitcase or tote, and you can change the shape depending on your table set up and inventory. Tip: constructing your display to include shelves that face you behind the table helps organize your backstock during the show.
These cubes aren’t your only option. Some people use milk crates, picture frames, wooden boxes, custom built shelves, etc. Consider what works best for you, your aesthetic, and your storage/transportation needs. When in doubt, you can always lay your goods flat on the table.
c) Signage
Having clear signage on your items to denote price helps people feel more comfortable purchasing from your table. Your price markers don’t have to be fancy. Prices written neatly on pieces of paper and paperclipped to your books or taped up next to your stickers is a simple and effective strategy. Some people print out a price list or use a sign board. It’s totally up to you!
Include a sign with your name somewhere in your display, including your social media handle if it is different from your artist name. This will help fans of your work more easily recognize you. Tip: use a QR code prominently displayed on your table that links to your portfolio, linktree, etc.
d) Banner/backdrop
Look out behind you! Whether it’s a banner, a backdrop, or something else, the space behind your seat can be put to use. While it is relatively easy to print custom banners at most print shops, many tablers cite this as an unnecessary expense, especially for first time artist alley participants. If you’d like to hang a collage of your work behind you, look for photography backdrop tripods, which can collapse and fold up neatly. The behind-the-table space is shared with other artists, and it can get cramped. Be mindful of your needs when deciding how to do a backdrop. Some artists opt to exclude a backdrop and just use their cubes to arch over them.
Optional: Decorate your table! Flowers, string lights, plushies, etc. can all bring a special one of a kind experience to your set up.
2. Behind The Table
a) Inventory
Now that we’re behind the table, let’s talk about what’s going on back here. Starting with inventory. If you’re absolutely unsure how much to bring, a good starting number is about 10 of each item. If you sell out, congratulations! You’ll know what to bring more of next time, or you’ll know you should raise your prices. For storing inventory during transportation to the con and while at the show, you might consider simple boxes, an accordion folder, or a portfolio case, depending on what kind of items you’re bringing. Reminder: if you’re using display cubes, structuring them to give you shelves on your side of the table will help you keep things organized.
b) Suitcase/storage tote
Under your feet will be your suitcase/tote box, and perhaps a dolly, if you used one to wheel your boxes into the building. It is recommended that your suitcase/tote has a lock on it, as you’ll be leaving inventory overnight. Hopefully no matter what you use, it has wheels of some kind. All this gear gets heavy. If you are not using a wheeled device, make sure to check your pack’s weight as you assemble your supplies. You will have to carry it from the parking garage or bus stop through the convention center, and back out again at the end of the show.
c) Cover cloth
What else is in that box? Your cover cloth. This one is optional, but some artists like having a lightweight cloth to cover their table when the day is done. Something like a vinyl picnic tablecloth works perfectly. The cover cloth helps prevent anyone from accidentally knocking your things over or having things go missing.
d) Business cards
On your side of the table, you ought to have plenty of back up business cards. You’ll have some of these out on the table for passersby to pick up, but this item is the number one thing you’re going to hand out the most of. It’s always better to have too many rather than too few. For a single three day convention, you might need 200+ cards. Make sure your website/online shop is easy to find on your cards. Cute business cards go a long way to making your table memorable long after the con has ended.
Bonus supplies: Here’s a short list of things you might need throughout the weekend to touch up your display. Keep them in a bag and bring them with you every time you table!
Masking and clear tape
Spare paper for impromptu signage
Sharpies and pens
Zip ties
Scissors
3. Money
a) Card reader
The most commonly used card reader is Square, but there are alternatives. Research their fees and prices to determine what fits your needs. You’ll want to get a hold of a card reader and set up your account well in advance of your show. Card readers require wifi/data to work and will only work in your country of business, so take that into consideration when packing for your show. Most convention halls have wifi (sometimes at a cost), but if your show is outdoors you might be relying on data.
b) Cash/change
Cash is king! Make sure to bring enough cash/change for your show. About $25-50 in small bills is usually enough if you’re also accepting card. At the end of the day, consider tucking your big bills away in a secure location in your hotel room. If something were to happen to your bag, you’ll appreciate not having your entire weekend’s earnings in it!
c) Fanny pack
Keeping your cash attached to you at all times is smart. People often use fanny packs or cross body bags to manage their money.
4. Quality of Life
a) Backup battery
Since you may be using your phone to complete transactions, or maybe you’re drawing on your iPad with time to kill, you’ll want to bring a back up battery. Most tables don’t have access to electricity, so having a battery and charging cables is a good idea.
b) Hand sanitizer & masks
One hand sani pump out front and one behind the table. You’ll be handling money, shaking hands with strangers, and touching surfaces that thousands of people have been touching all day. As long as there have been conventions, there have been con plagues. You don’t want to get knocked out with a cold (or worse) so masking is great!
c) Table buddy
If you’re able to, bring a friend to help you table. Cons will often give tablers 2 passes (one for you and one for a friend). They can help you grab coffee or lunch, get change, package a big purchase, cover you for bathroom breaks, etc. Table buddies are truly the unsung heroes of artist alley.
d) No table buddy? No problem.
Check in with con staff and volunteers. Many comic cons will have a green room for artists to take a snack break and decompress, and con staff will help guide you there. Some conventions also enlist volunteers to help sit your table while you’re away. They’ll make sure your table stays in order, direct people to your business cards, and inform curious patrons when to expect you back.
e) Fun stuff!
There will be plenty of downtime. Con hours are long and often slow in the mornings. Bring something to keep you occupied, but not too engrossed, so you can easily pull away to greet customers and fans. Fidget toys, a puzzle book, knitting or crochet project are all great ideas.
f) Get Comfy, Eat Well, Stay Hydrated
Going from your quiet desk to the high octane energy of artist alley can be a shock to the system. Some items to help reduce the fatigue are: noise canceling headphones during downtime and breaks, sunglasses to combat the fluorescent lights and rest your eyes, slippers or comfy shoes for under the table, and layers of clothing. Convention halls can fluctuate temperatures wildly. With lots of AC during the summer, sweaty crowds, and the flow of traffic to your table, you’ll be working up a sweat fulfilling transactions one second then freezing after sitting still for a minute.
Most importantly, have a small cooler with snacks and drinks. You may not get a break, but it’s important to stay hydrated and energized.
—🐝—
The next time you're at a convention, take note of displays that inspire you. #ArtistAlley and #ConTable tags on Instagram or TikTok can connect you with creators sharing their setups. Your table design is an opportunity to be creative and express yourself, while also learning along the way what works for you. Most tables, however, are built up over several convention seasons of trial and error, so while it’s good to take note of others' displays as a source of inspiration, try to keep your first table relatively simple. The more you table, the more you’ll be able to identify your needs for you and your merchandise.
We’ll close out this blog post with one final suggestion. Big, multi-day conventions can be fun, but they can also be expensive. Your tabling supplies and inventory aside, if you’re doing a show away from home, you’ll contend with table fees (often $250-450 USD), hotel, transportation, meals, etc. And not every convention is a good fit for your wares! Small, local events and art festivals are a great, low stakes, relatively cheap (or free) way to start tabling. Check your area for zine fests, queer makers markets, and craft fairs.
Sound off if there’s anything we missed! Good luck on your tabling adventures.
164 notes · View notes
eaglyn · 7 months
Text
Strictly A Business Relationship | Alhaitham x reader smut and confession
Warning: drinking, drunk sex, no use of protection Summary: It took Alhaitham several months to warm up to you, but it only took him one night of heavy drinking to actually confess. Not proofread :)
Today was a day like any other. Sitting at your desk, receiving papers, filling papers, sending out papers, making several trips from the library to your office, so on and so forth. All within of your job description as... nobody knows.
You were just Y/n. The Sages knew you as Y/n, the students and researchers know you as Y/n, everyone knew you as Y/n. Some people called you the 'Jack of All Trades', as anything from cataloguing new information to taking care of official papers, occasionally supervising experiments, keeping track of certain area's monthly expenses and research funding was your responsibility. It became a motto within the Akademiya: You have a problem? Go to Y/n!
Since you did practically every job that nobody volunteered to do part-time, you had quite the network. Everybody knew and trusted you, and therefore you could get any information you wanted, only dreaming about having the freedom to turn against this accursed institution and destroy it from within with all the information you had.
It's through this can of baked beans that you call a job that you managed to get acquainted with the Akademiya's Scribe, Alhaitham. At first, you found him rather peculiar. He was completely objective towards everything, and it seemed like he didn't have emotions at all. He just stated factual information in the most indifferent manner as possible, and emphasis on factual, since nothing left his mouth that couldn't be backed up with a ton of evidence and research. He was so smart it surprised you.
Upon some sort of miracle, many of the free work spots that you filled in for were taken, as such the Grand Sage offered you a new position that would give you more opportunities to showcase your own genius. Your title was still basically the same 'Ask-Me-To-Solve-Your-Problems Y/n', but now you at least had a job description, and a higher salary.
Your new job was looking through submissions of findings and categorizing them, supervising experiments and making sure they are done according to the submitted thesis and ensuring that the experiment materials were used and not repurposed illegally, and being a witness any time people from the Akademiya got in trouble and were handled by the Mahamatra, making records of the case in the process and maintaining a portfolio of them.
You could also be called 'I-Just-Stand-Here-And-Nod Y/n', but occasionally you did have important things to do. Like the one time you teamed up with Alhaitham. It was unexpected, but not unpleasant. His job as Scribe and your job as... whatever you were happened to intertwine, leading you to to go on an errand or two together and end up back at your place to go over all the findings.
After a while, he grew to respect the extent of your knowledge, eventually seeing you as an equal. Over the years of having a job as chaotic as yours, you also developed his way of reacting to things, the exception being that you acted like you cared. The way he saw you was an absolute genius who could still lower herself down to other people's level, entertain their menial ideas, pretend to be invested in their meaningless eventual turmoil, without ending up as a gossip point.
You were a beacon of trust within a giant web of people, and Alhaitham being so unconventional, you were like his equal opposite in personality. So modest, graceful, kind and trustworthy, and he started getting drawn to that.
Eventually your attitude of not losing your humanity rubbed off on him, but only when he was around you. He claimed he didn't care about anything or anyone, but when it came to you, he cared.
At first, it was small changes in his behavior like smiling occasionally when he was with you, thanking or complimenting you when he felt it was necessary. Then it became a habit of you two to go out to a bar and have a few drinks after a long afternoon brainstorming session.
You were a lightweight compared to him when it came to alcohol, so he'd act disappointed when placing his arm around your shoulder as he walked you home, only to maintain his image.
After some time, he'd find it easier to loosen up around you as opposed to staying as he usually was. Whenever you two were out drinking, he'd place his arm around your waist, and as he was walking you home, he'd give you a piggyback ride or carry you in his arms if he deemed you too drunk or too tired.
Once the project the two of you had been working on was over, you two once again went out drinking, but having drunk way more than the usual, Alhaitham couldn't be bothered to care about Kaveh's future remarks, he just walked you to his house, as yours was too far away.
After wobbling into his house, he noticed that Kaveh was probably out tonight, as such he grabbed a few beers and headed to his room in case his roommate would come back. You two continued popping bottle after bottle, to the point when even Alhaitham was seriously drunk. He wasn't your type of drunk. You were the type of drunk that found everything way too funny, while Alhaitham was just clingy. He sat on his bed, holding your waist as you laid with the back of your head against his stomach.
"Hehee, you look funny upside down." You said, looking up at him.
"What is that supposed to mean?" He raised his eyebrows, leaning closer to you.
"You're still pretty, it's just funny." You said after concluding that upside down Alhaitham was just as pretty as regular Alhaitham. It probably wasn't even the alcohol in your system, after all the angle didn't change the fact that his hair was nice and silky, it didn't change the mesmerizing color of his eyes, or his perfect lips.
"Upside down Y/n isn't bad either." You started giggling after hearing this.
"I'm not upside down, silly, you are. I'm normal." You reached up to tap the tip of his nose with your pointer finger.
"If you say so, normal Y/n." You blinked twice at him after he said this.
"I'm always normal, why do you emphasize?" You raised your eyebrows, and he just shrugged. All the alcohol in his brain added onto the fact that you were there made his natural, arrogant responses turn off.
For a while, you two just sat there silently until you decided that you were bored of your current position, so you sat up beside him, only for him to lean onto your shoulder and hug your torso.
"You're very pretty, Alhaitham." You giggled at him after looking down at his face for a while. Your sudden statement made him look up at you. "You have very pretty eyes, a pretty nose and very nice hair. And you also have pretty lips. 10/10, very kissable looking."
For once, he was blushing. While the look on his face didn't change, the redness in his cheeks was not something you could miss.
"Hehe, you're blushing!" You said before pinching his cheeks.
"Ow... Why did you do that?" His words fell on deaf ears as you just continued to squish different parts of his face with your hand before you just settled on playing with his hair.
"I want to ask you something, Y/n." He said out of the blue, completely seriously.
"What is it?" His tone indicated that it wasn't time for you to start joking.
"What am I... to you?" His question almost made you sober up in a sense as you looked at him in the eyes.
"I mean... you're Alhaitham. We've been working together for a while now, but we also hang out after work. And the way we're just laying here, essentially cuddling isn't quite friend behavior either. I don't know. That's the most concrete answer I can give." He nodded and swallowed. "Why? What am I to you?" You asked.
"When I met you, I was interested to see why you were so popular among everyone despite having a seemingly ordinary job. At first, I didn't think much of you, but as we were working on this case together, I realized that you were insanely smart. You are just like me, you're a genius. But even so you can remain so compassionate. You act so human around other people, despite the fact that even you yourself see their problems as meaningless. Everyone trusts and admires you, and rightfully so. I feel like you've shown me that that the part of me that I've always seen as a weakness, an inconvenience is actually good." He said, and now you were the one with tomato cheeks.
"Aww, I appreciate that." You said.
"Truthfully, I need you, Y/n. You complete me." He said, looking into your eyes with utmost sincerity.
You slowly leaned in, pressing your lips against his, one hand buried in his hair and the other tracing the muscles on his back while he just held you close. The way his lips felt on yours had your head in the sky while your stomach was spinning in circles. He was craving you, evidently so.
His hands wandered to your thighs, easily lifting you onto his lap without even breaking the kiss, then he placed his hands on your hips, pulling you even closer. You hummed against his lips as he squeezed your hips, gripping his hair before finally pulling away, breathing heavily.
"Y/n." He said looking you in the eye. "I have to warn you that if we kiss one more time, I won't be able to stop myself. The decision is yours, Y/n. We either go back to just hanging out or we can give in to our desires. You choose."
You nodded, evaluating whether or not it would be a good idea to sleep with someone in your current state. Then again, it was Alhaitham, not just 'someone'. With that, you crashed your lips against his, wrapping your legs around his waist as you sat in his lap. Suddenly the smell of him was even more intoxicating, along with the fact that he was so close to you.
A few months ago if someone told you that in the near future you'd be sitting in Alhaitham's lap, making out with him in his bed, you would've called them crazy. But now, here you were.
He groaned as you pulled on his hair, squeezing your butt as his other hand wandered up to your breasts, feeling them through the fabric of your dress. Since it was an off the shoulder dress, he could easily just pull the neckline down and expose your breasts. The cool air in his room hitting your exposed nipples made them harden while shivers were sent down your spine as he started fondling them with his hand. In the meantime, you could also feel his erection bulging through the fabric of his pants, and you only wanted more.
You started rocking, rubbing yourself against his crotch, chasing after every bit of friction, almost melting when you heard him groan deeply. The way he had you wrapped around his finger had your mind spinning, and you could only imagine what it would feel like to have him inside you.
He soon break free, but only to strip off his clothes, while you did the same. Lucky for you, you only had your dress and your panties, so you sat back down on the bed, watching him undress. You couldn't tear your eyes away from the way his muscles flexed every time he moved, and you could feel your imagination running free. While you valued your dignity, you totally wouldn't mind being bent over a desk by this man, even if half of the Akademiya saw. And you had him all for yourself.
He finally turned towards you with the last of his clothes discarded, and you felt your eyes being glued to his crotch. It was bigger than any you've seen before. It had to be at least eight inches, thick with veins, and a tip that was oozing with precum.
He just had a grin on his face as he observed the look in your eyes. "Don't worry, I'll be gentle." He said, walking over to the bed. He signaled for you to lay down before opening your legs and getting on his knees.
"You're wet." He said before proceeding to drag his tongue over your slit. He looked you straight in the eyes as he dove in, sucking on your clit while his fingers ghosted over your thighs, making you shiver. It didn't take long before you were moaning at every swirl of his tongue around your clit, and even more so whenever he licked over your opening, teasing to push his tongue in before going back to your clit. You could feel a knot forming in your stomach, but just before you could finally cum, he pulled himself away, once again looking you straight in the eye as he used his thumb to clean his face and lick everything off.
You gulped as he climbed on top of you, nervous because of the size, but also boiling with anticipation because of the climax he robbed you of. He teased your clit by rubbing his tip against it before aligning himself with your entrance and slowly pushing in. He was huge.
He moved very slowly, pushing it in inch by inch and stopping to let you adjust after every inch. The way he stretched you out hurt, causing you to scrunch your eyebrows. Seeing your expression, he leaned down to press a small kiss on your chin before pulling out and slowly pushing you in.
He started moving at a slow and steady pace. It was still a little painful, but the pain was quickly shifting to pleasure as his veins rubbed against your walls. It all felt like a fever dream. He looked insanely attractive as it was, but something about the way his naked body towered on top of you made you want to scream.
"You good?" He asked, looking up at you with a lustful, but patient gaze. You just nodded in response and waited for him to start moving again.
This time his pace was a little faster than before, but it was still overall slow and steady. You were trying to stay quiet which ended as soon as he leaned down to start sucking hickeys onto your neck. He supported himself with one hand while the other kept squishing your breasts and pinching your nipples. This combination was simply too much for your mind and body to handle, as such you quickly turned into a moaning mess as Alhaitham continued rocking his hips against yours.
You barely even realized that he'd moved you when he flipped you on top of him. He was sitting with his back against the bedframe and positioned you on top of him, hands on either side of your butt. You used your hand to direct his dick to your entrance before lowering yourself onto him, releasing a soft moan in the process.
He once again buried his face in your chest, kissing your neck, your breasts, sucking on your nipples all the while guiding your hips with his strong hands. He paired that with the movement of his own hips, and soon you were back to moaning out loud every time your pubes made contact. He was so deep inside you that you could feel his tip kissing your cervix each time. You started craving more, taking control of your hip movements and starting to move a lot quicker, and he soon got the idea, matching his pace to yours.
It was like an itch in inside you that needed to be scratched, but nothing was enough. That was until he held your hips down tightly and started thrusting up into you at an insane speed. Sounds of skin slapping and moaning from both parties filled the room, and you could feel yourself tightening around him as you threw your head back and squeezed your eyes shut.
"You're... so tight." He said, continuing this pace for about ten more seconds before both of you had climaxed. You were seeing stars and your walls were pulsating around him, sucking every bit of his cum out of his dick. The sensation of being filled with cum was something you didn't know how to even describe, but it had you hugging Alhatiham close, still heaving for air.
"That was amazing." You said, resting your chin on top of his head, giving him a face full of boobs.
"Yeah..." He said. "Let's get you cleaned up."
He cleaned you up and gave you one of his t-shirts and a pair of boxers to sleep in before he himself put on a pair of pajama shorts and climbed into bed next to you, covering the both of you with a blanked and holding you close. Your mind wandered back to the conversation that lead to this spectacular experience in the first place.
"Alhaitham, remember what you asked me?"
"Hm? Oh you mean when I asked what I mean to you." He responded, almost half asleep.
"I think I have an answer. To me, you are the one I love." You said, placing your hand on top of his hand that laid on your stomach.
"I love you too, Y/n." He said, then placed a kiss on the back of your head.
"Hehe, I'm no longer single." You giggled once again, but this time it was more because of how tired you were. "I managed to bag Alhaitham! Al-fucking-haitham! Can you believe it, Alhaitham?"
You heard him chuckle quietly, which made you do a little victory dance in your head.
"Sleep, Y/n." He said, and you muttered a 'fine' under your breath before closing your eyes and falling asleep within a few seconds.
Both of you were severely hungover when you woke up in the morning, but Alhaitham went to prepare breakfast for the two of you while you stayed in bed, rubbing the sleepiness out of your eyes. He soon came back to tell you that breakfast is done, and you got out of bed walking out of his room with a big stretch and a yawn.
Unbeknownst to either of you, Kaveh, his roommate was coming out of his room, to the living room just then. Poor man would've never expected seeing Y/n from the Akademiya being there in none other than Alhaitham's clothes. As such, he screeched. "AAAH! Y/n from the Akademiya? What are you doing here?" You knew Kaveh, there have been times when he had to interact with you for certain jobs.
Alhaitham walked to you and hugged you from behind, looking Kaveh in the eyes before saying: "She's my girlfriend."
"What? Is this true? Blink twice if he paid you to act." Kaveh said, looking at you, but you just blankly stared at him without blinking.
"I'm pretty sure I have a higher salary than him, he can't bribe me with money. So yes, it's true." You finally responded, making Kaveh once again turn his attention back to his roommate.
"But how? When?" He was absolutely, positively flabbergasted.
"I'm simply better at talking to women than you are." Alhaitham said with a completely straight face, and you were just entertained to watch this whole drama unfold.
"No. That's not true. Amani from the Spatamad Darshan is going to confess to me any way now!" He crossed his arms in front of his chest.
"You've been saying that for half a year now." Alhaitham responded while you just giggled in his arms.
"You- How dare you?" Kaveh said, storming off, while you and Alhaitham just went to the kitchen to have breakfast.
You were certain that your life will never be boring again.
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miamochi-writes · 11 months
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hihi! can you write vash being with an artist and them needing to finish a commission since they're running low on money and ends up pulling multiple all-nighters, not really taking care of themselves and vash like forces them to take a break? (college is killing me rn :,)) thanks !!
A/n: Ooo I can sort of relate to this, just mainly the all-nighters :’) Also hope you don't mind Vash giving the reader some much needed TLC ❤️Enjoy!
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A Break from Perfectionism
“Ugh, why does the chin look weird?”
“Now the eyes aren’t leveled,”
“Hands are the worst to draw!"
"Why do they still look wonky? They shouldn't look like this!"
You kept muttering to yourself as you tried to sketch on your drawing pad. You were limited on supplies, so this drawing had to be perfect. You already used up most of your supplies at the last town with your previous commissions. You already spent most of your double dollars to restock on the set of charcoal sticks and sketch paper you used. Just like clothes, art supplies were expensive to buy in No Man's Land.
However, you managed to get one commission that would cover all your future expenses. One of the townsfolk noticed your portfolio and wanted a portrait of themselves. When they told you how much they were willing to pay, you nearly passed out from the amount of double dollars they held out in front of you. Of course, you couldn't say no to this commission and promised to work on it immediately. Usually, you would have finished this commission quickly since it was your only one. The only problem is, your perfectionism was getting in the way of making any progress. You needed this commission to be perfect. One second it would look great at a glance, but after five seconds, you would find a flaw upon closer inspection. Thus, you would fix the mistake with some erasing, sketching, or shading until you were satisfied. This process would repeat itself until you lost track of time. You were currently working on the face until you heard someone come inside your room.
“Y/n, you there?” A familiar voice asked. You didn’t need to look up. You recognized that voice from a mile away. You couldn’t afford to look away from your sketch as you were shading in the shadows of the person you drew.
“Yeah I’m here, what’s up Vash?” You asked as you started finishing up the last shade of the cheek. It wasn’t good, nor terrible, but it would do for now. After all, you were going to fix it again for the umpteenth time.
“I’m just checking in on you. How's it going with the artwork?” Vash asked as you could hear him walk closer to you. When Vash first asked about seeing your drawings, you were such a nervous wreck about him seeing your work. Now, you've grown used to him seeing your portfolio after you started dating each other. He was your muse whenever you had an art block. The way Vash expressed himself and his little mannerisms were perfect for you to draw.
"Wow, that looks amazing Y/n! This is probably your best one yet!" Vash complimented as you sighed.
"Thanks, I wish I could see this the way you do. It's not nearly finished. There are so many things wrong with this piece that I need to fix. The shading is all wrong on this part, and the face looks wonky at certain angles," you whined as you looked at the sketch again and started zoning in on all the flaws. The more you looked at the piece, the more you felt the urge to crumple up the paper and start over.
"Hey, don't be so harsh on yourself. You're a great artist, and everyone knows it. Why don't we take a break from this and work on it later?" he suggested, putting his hands on your tense shoulders.
"Vash I can't! I have to keep working on this. I need to finish this soon. I promised this person I would have it ready before we leave in a few days!" you argued.
"Y/n, you need a break. This isn't healthy for you. Besides, when was the last time you took a break? Did you even eat?" Vash persisted as you thought about how to answer those questions without worrying him.
"Uhhh...I took a mini break when Meryl checked in on me sometime ago. And I had a snack not too long ago," you answered vaguely. Before any of you could answer, your stomach growled loud enough for five seconds. Long and loud enough for Vash to hear. You immediately turned red at that moment, cursing your stomach and its terrible timing.
"Y/n, when exactly did you last eat something filling?" Vash asked. When you looked at him, you saw his glasses were glinting at you. This was not a good sign, as you knew he was dead serious if you couldn't see his pretty blue eyes anymore.
"When we all ate together?" you answered quietly. You then felt two strong hands on your waist. Next thing you knew, your feet were no longer touching the ground. Vash was carrying you over his shoulder with his prosthetic hand. It was at this moment, you knew there was no escaping your boyfriend if he had you in his prosthetic grip. You knew how strong he was with that arm in particular as he adjusted his grip on you.
"Vash please! I promise to take a break and eat later! Just please put me down!" you begged.
"Y/n, I can't believe you haven't eaten a proper meal in days! You're not leaving my sight until you eat and rest," Vash argued as you whined in defeat. Vash took you out from your room as you were covering your face in shame. You felt embarrassed being carried like this, and it didn't help people were going to see you and Vash like this.
"Wolfwood, make sure Y/n doesn't go in this room unless I say so. We'll be back later," Vash requested. You then saw Wolfwood waiting outside your room and placed his weapon in front of your room. He told Vash he'd watch over the place as you were in complete shock. Now there was no way you could sneak back into your room and continue working.
~*~
Vash brought you down to the hotel's dining room. You were a blushing mess when you saw a couple of people lounging there. It wasn't every day that Vash carried you over his shoulder, let alone in a public space where people could see. He finally set you down at a table for two where Meryl and Roberto sat. They then left once they saw Vash as the both of you took a seat. You could see two plates of freshly cooked Thomas meat in front of the two of you.
"Vash, is this for me?" you asked as he nodded.
"How? This must have cost a good chunk of our funds!" you added, feeling bad just looking at this meal.
"Y/n, you deserve to eat a warm meal. Plus, I don't mind spending money on you if it means sharing a meal with you like this. I haven't seen you in days since you started working on that piece," Vash explained. Oh how a wave of shame washed over you. You didn't realize how much time and energy you spent working on this commission. When you thought back to how Vash checked in on you earlier, you didn't even bother to look at him.
"I'm sorry Vash, I didn't mean to ignore you like that. I got so invested in working, I didn't realize how much time passed. I'll make it up to you somehow," you apologized.
"No I understand, just promise me to take breaks every now and then okay?" he replied with those sweet blue eyes that held so much love and kindness for you every day. You nodded your head and began to dig into your meal. The meat was succulent and tender with each bite you took. Your mouth was overwhelmed with flavor as your stomach was finally getting fed actual food.
"Vash this is so good! Thank you for getting this," you chimed as Vash smiled at how content you were.
"I'm glad you like it! Eat as much as you can, you need all the energy you can get for later," he replied before taking a bite of his meal. You didn't realize how hungry you were until you finished everything on your plate. Even Vash managed to wipe his plate clean as there were no scraps left behind. Once you were finished, Vash led you to his room while holding your hand with his warm cybernetic arm. Once you entered, he locked the room and led you to his bed.
"Y/n, when was the last time you slept? Be honest," Vash asked. Guilt-ridden, you averted your e/c eyes from your boyfriend. You already knew you didn't get a wink of sleep when you saw your dark circles in the reflection of your silverware earlier. Vash exhaled as he knew more or less the answer to his question. He then pulled you over to him as he held you close. Vash then caressed your cheek as his blue eyes locked on to yours. His eyebrows were furrowed with a small frown apparent on his beautiful face.
"Please take better care of yourself next time. I know I'm not great at taking care of myself, but I don't want you catching my habits too," Vash spoke. Your heart sunk as you rested your hand on his right cheek.
"I'm so sorry Vash, I will. The last thing I want to do was worry you. But you better take care of yourself too. We both can't be neglecting ourselves or each other. Promise me we'll both take better care of ourselves and each other?" you offered as Vash nodded with a smile growing on his face. His eyes gleamed as they crinkled from his smile that you loved ever so much.
You then kissed Vash gently on the lips as he pulled you closer to him. He rubbed small circles on your back as you melted into the kiss. Once you pulled away for air, Vash stared at you in such adoration as he slowly brushed his thumb on your cheek.
"I missed you so much Mayfly," he said as he laid down and pulled you with him. You loved it when he called you by your nickname. That name never failed to warm your heart as you showered Vash with butterfly kisses.
"Aw I missed you too my angel. I wished I was commissioned to draw you instead. I love to draw your beautiful face any chance I get," you cooed. Afterwards, Vash's cheeks were turning slightly pink as he wore a shy smile on his face before covering his face with both hands. He was a blubbering red mess the first time he heard you call him that. When you explained why you called him that, Vash nearly passed out from the overwhelming love and compliments you showered him with. When you first met him, you mistook him for an angel, because there was no way a human could look that pretty 24/7. When he saw your portraits of him in your sketchbook, he was in awe of how you drew him. How you perceived him in all your work was how Vash wanted to see himself in the mirror. Whether it was him smiling, laughing, or gazing, you always drew Vash in all his beauty. Plus, you always left little comments about how ethereal he was in your work that he practically melted. That nickname always turned Vash into absolute putty in your hands.
Vash then snuck a peak at you with his beautiful eyes as you chuckled at how childlike he was. He then grabbed your wrists and started massaging them slowly. All the pain building up from all the late night sketches and awkward positioning of your wrists was finally alleviated.
"How's that Mayfly?" he asked as he continued massaging you from your wrists to your hands and lastly to your fingers. Every little rub and massage he did brought so much relief to you. Your muscles and joints were slowly relaxing with each touch. You had no idea you were so tense earlier. If it wasn't for Vash, you probably would have gotten carpal tunnel syndrome much earlier. Once Vash finished, he planted kisses on both hands.
"How did you know?" you asked him.
"You were stiff when I first saw you today. Plus, your movements were rigid when we were eating earlier. Did my massage help?" he asked as you kissed him once more.
"More than you know," you replied as Vash brought you to his chest and kissed your lips and cheeks.
"Good, you deserve it after working so hard," Vash added. He then caressed the back of your head. He then slowly and gently ran his fingers through your hair. Furthermore, he rested his other arm on your back as you rested your head on top of his right chest. You loved hearing his heartbeat as it always calmed you down.
"Can we stay like this for awhile Angel?" you asked him.
"As long as you want Mayfly," he answered.
"Good, I think I'll take a quick nap on you if you don't mind," you added.
"Go ahead. I'll be right here. Sweet dreams my Mayfly," Vash wished as he planted one soft kiss on your head. Your eyes slowly got heavy as you drifted off to the sweet bliss of sleep. Once Vash made sure you were asleep, he slowly rested both his arms on top of your back and stared fondly at you. Oh how he missed having you in his arms these past few days. Vash loved and adored you every second. He knew how much this commission was stressing you out when he realized how important it was to you. Vash isn't the type to bother you while you work, but after not seeing you for days, he mustered up all the courage he had to knock on your door. The blonde was touch starved for days and missed seeing his favorite person. After all, you were his safe haven in this cruel world.
~*~
You woke up to see the sun setting. You looked to see Vash sleeping next to you as he held you by the waist. The minute you moved, Vash slowly stirred since he was such a light sleeper. Then those beautiful eyes slowly blinked at you as a smile crept on his lips.
"Sleep well?" he asked as you nodded.
"Good," he replied as he pecked your lips. Vash looked at the window and realized the time. He then walked you back to your room and allowed you to go back to work. Except, you would have to sleep with him later tonight, which you happily obliged. Wolfwood moved his weapon away as you walked inside. Once you settled in, you looked at the sketch you did and started redrawing the areas that bothered you. Once that was done, you started shading and outlining the prominent features with your charcoal sticks. Then, you started adding little touchups to the smaller details. Finally, you looked at the outcome of your work. You couldn't spot any mistakes after giving it a good look. Finally, you were done with this piece!
You immediately grabbed your things and ran to Vash's room. He was excited to see you once you knocked at his door. Once you changed clothes, showered, and brushed your teeth, the both of you got comfortable in each other's arms in bed. Despite how stressful the past few days were on you, you were grateful to have Vash intervene and take care of you. After today, you were not afraid to take a couple of much needed breaks. Especially if it meant Vash would be spending time with you during those said breaks.
@daschstuff @bunnigrimm
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A Flower For Every Secret Ch. 3 - Basket Flowers
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Buckle up my friends because I was giggling and kicking my feet writing this.
WORD COUNT : 1885
WARNINGS: Extreme fluff, mutual pining. MINORS DNI. These guys are sickly in love I can feel it in my bones.
Pair the dancing scene with the song J's Lullaby by Delaney Bailey. ALL THE FEELS.
“You going to Colleen’s wedding tomorrow?” a voice piped from behind the glass window.
“Good morning to you, too. I’m not sure. I feel like it was a tentative invite because I’ve only been here like a month.” I looked up at Agent Carrillo through my lashes, phone on hold between my neck and ear. 
Joel hadn’t been home hardly all week. His truck always leaving at dawn and not back until late, Sarah begrudgingly following close behind him. Both of their clothes had been covered in sawdust several of those days.
He hadn’t acknowledged me much since the dinner he had invited me to, the only conversation being passing hello, how was your day? He didn’t have time to play in the streets with the neighborhood kids, much to the dismay of many parents who had to pay extra attention without Joel keeping watch of the street. He had mentioned a big job in the city, renovating an old shop front into a high-end bakery.
“Still nice to get to know people better, you’re kind of in your own world over here.” he shrugged, leaning past the barrier to peek at my desk space.
I covered the note I was writing, waiting to get it sent out to a patrol unit. A welfare check on an elderly woman, I hung up the line when I was confident my message went through, and sighed. “I don’t have a date. So I won’t know anyone, and I’ll be alone. You have a wife, Carrillo. You have a buffer.”
He seemed to consider, “Find one. I mean this in the most platonic way. You’re pretty. Someone would want to go with you, even if it’s some shitty blind date.”
I chewed the end of my pen gently, the only person that came to mind being the neighbor I’d been pining over for the last week, “I think there’s someone I can ask.”
Joel’s truck was surprisingly in the driveway when I pulled into the cul-de-sac, Sarah in the front yard with one of her friends, laying in the grass with a neatly folded fortune teller. They played the game with smiles on their faces, even from across the street I could hear the flip, flop, flap of the paper with the swish of their hands.
I tentatively walked across the street, “Hey, Sarah. Your dad home?” I questioned.
“In his office, just walk inside and let him know I said it's okay.” She looked away from me and smiled at her friend again, “Pick a number one through four.”
“Joel?” I called into the silent house, “Joel, it’s me, Sarah said to come in. I have to ask you something.”
A shuffling noise and a door opening came from down the hallway and Joel appeared, phone pressed to his ear, he motioned for me to follow, using his spare hand to silently shush me, “Again, it’s not possible with the current price of lumber, tools and extras. I gotta pay my guys, I gotta feed my kid. I’d love to continue offering the labor rate I had five years ago when I previously did work at your home, but I am a small business.” he was rolling his eyes, rolling up his long sleeved shirt to his elbows.
I watched him as he sat at an l-shaped desk, stuffed into a corner of the small room, a window directly in front of his chair. A few photos of him and Sarah framed, dusted. A tiny cactus potted, and neat stacks of binders with printed labels. Money In, Money Out, Project Portfolio, Current Client List and Job Sites, Employee Records/Handbook.
He pinched his brow, exhaling slowly so as not to let the person on the other end hear his frustration, “I offer very competitive rates, you won’t find someone cheaper than me right now, I don’t think. I’ve held off on raising prices again… I understand your frustration, times are changing for everyone. Yes, just let me know. I’d love to be of help to you, have a great weekend Bob.” he put the phone into its cradle and groaned aloud, “Sorry, Sweetheart.” he drawled as he spun on squeaky wheels to face me.
“Sarah let me in, I wanted to ask something pretty big of you this weekend. I understand if it's a no, I just have nobody else I’d like to ask.”
He pressed his elbow into the desk, resting his chin in his palm, “I’m all ears.” 
“There’s this… Thing.” I started, looking up at the ceiling.
He waited for me to continue, “Gosh, I’m nervous.” I huffed a laugh.
“Don’t be nervous, just ask.” he had started grinning at this point.
“The chief’s secretary is getting married tomorrow. I was a last minute invite, I wasn’t planning on going, but was given the option of taking a plus one and-” I froze, trying not to stammer over my words, “I was hoping that maybe you’d like to come. With me. As a favor. It doesn't have to be like…” I trailed off.
His ears turned a soft shade of pink and he looked out the window, now to the side of him, “Let me make a call.” he turned back to the phone and in moments, “Maria.” a pause, entirely too long as he stared directly in my eyes with the phone to his ear. I began wringing my hands together in anticipation. My heart thrumming wildly in my throat, “Nothing serious, just a favor.” he started, “I have uh… A date tomorrow… Need someone to feed Sarah dinner, make sure she’s okay.” he was chewing his lower lip nervously, that eye contact still unbreaking, “Of course,” he was grinning now, the pink in his ears flushing through his cheeks, “I really appreciate you guys. Thank you.”
The phone clicked back into its home on the desk, and Joel stood from his chair, “It’s a date.”
Joel promised to wear his best. Based on what I’d seen I’d hoped it was a little more than a blazer and nice pants. But he could show up in anything and I’d be happy just to hear his laugh again.
I wasn’t sure exactly what to label my feelings for my neighbor as, other than when I look at him it feels like the breath has been taken from my lungs for a moment. I spent all evening laying everything out, he promised to pick me up by three p.m for the four o’clock ceremony in the gardens of the event center. The reception would follow in a large barn. From what I had heard, Colleen’s family spared no expense. I opted to wear a lilac, solid colored dress that ended at my ankles, off shoulder sleeves and tulle underneath the skirts to plump up the whole thing, paired with silver heels. My hair in a french twist with pieces left out to frame my face, my makeup bright, blushy and glossy.
The knock at the door as I put an extra coat of lipgloss on and stuffed touchup stuff into my clutch almost sent me into a panic. I rushed to answer the door, careful not to trip over myself before opening the door. I was not prepared to see him look so- 
“Wow.” we said in unison, wide-eyed.
“You look-” we both started, 
“Handsome.”
“Perfect”
Joel really pulled it off. Hair neatly parted and slicked, facial hair trimmed. He sported a full tux, perfectly tailored. He offered me his arm and I graciously accepted, the cul-de-sac was bustling with life, but it was as if he was the only one there with me. Drowning out everything else in a haze of warm, woodsy cologne and perfect smiles. The warmth made each vein in his large, rough hand rise. It was nearly impossible to keep my eyes trained on any single spot of him. He cleaned up good.
He led me to his truck, opening the door and helping me up.
The ride was near silent, only the radio covering the thrumming of my chest. The nerves electrifying my every fiber.
He kept his hands off of me through the entirety of the ceremony, though our eyes often drifted to each other through the vows. The soft music.
The reception was dimly lit, candles gracing every surface they made sense on, baskets overflowing with blooms of every shade to mark doorways, placed on tables as centerpieces, a chandelier of candles with wildflower blooms laced in every spare beam. 
Joel was seated firmly beside me at a table full of strangers. Eventually his hand found a spot to rest on top of mine, our fingers tentatively lacing together. Both of us obviously nervous. It was different than last week on the walk back to my house from his. I was keenly aware of his every movement, the feeling of his skin. The flush of my face, and each beat of my hammering heart.
Eventually I heard the slow, soft guitar and words sung so softly it was like a private prayer.
Darling I’d wait for you
Even if you didn’t ask me to.
Tie a lasso around the moon
And bring it on down to you.
His eyes found mine again and he rose from his seat, keeping our fingers laced together, glancing around at the other couples slowly moving along to the beat, “Normally I’d say I have two left feet… But this time… Dance with me?”
It took a moment for the words to leave after the nod of confirmation, “Of course.” I whispered as he took me toward the middle of the room. One hand pressed into my lower back, bringing our waists together, his other holding mine so delicately I was sure I must be dreaming. The candlelight illuminated his face in a golden haze. Surely things like this are only in fairytales
Cause, Baby, when your arms are around me.
I’d swear that I’m holding the sun.
“Joel,” I started, “Thank you - for coming with me.” his eyes were so warm I could have melted in them.
“There isn’t a way I’d have missed something like this.” he squeezed his hand at my back, bunching up tulle and soft fabric.
You could have the stars and the trees.
When dividing up the universe.
My breath hitched as words failed me entirely; and my hand, pressed firmly onto his shoulder, loosened, slipping further up and around to the back of his neck, burying in the soft hair at his nape.
His brows furrowed, almost a question. Almost a hope. We studied each other as everything else fell around us. Deeper and deeper. Until all that remained on the crowded dance floor was Joel. Me. And the words of a lullaby.
Darling, I wish that you
Could give me some more time.
To herd the whole sky in my arms,
And release it when you’re mine.
At the same moment he leaned in, so did I. It was hardly even a kiss. More like a tentative brush, testing the waters before making a full swan dive in deep water. He pulled away only to look at me again for confirmation. I nodded and he sealed his lips to mine.
I’d put the beach in your backyard
In hopes to be enough for you to stay.
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cogitoergofun · 29 days
Text
Several years ago, the political scientist Michael Bang Petersen, who is based in Denmark, wanted to understand why people share conspiracy theories on the internet. He and other researchers designed a study that involved showing American participants blatantly false stories about Democratic and Republican politicians, such as Bernie Sanders, Ted Cruz, Hillary Clinton, and Donald Trump. The subjects were asked: Would you share these stories online?
The results seemed to defy the logic of modern politics or polarization. “There were many people who seemed willing to share any conspiracy theory, regardless of the party it hurt,” Petersen told me. These participants didn’t seem like stable partisans of the left or right. They weren’t even negative partisans, who hated one side without feeling allegiance to the other. Above all, they seemed drawn to stories that undermined trust in every system of power.
Petersen felt as though he’d tapped a new vein of nihilism in modern politics—a desire to rip down the elites, whatever that might mean. He wanted to know more about what these people were thinking. In further research, he and his co-researchers asked participants how much they agreed with several statements, including the following:
“We cannot fix the problems in our social institutions, we need to tear them down and start over.”
“I need chaos around me—it is too boring if nothing is going on.”
“When I think about our political and social institutions, I cannot help thinking ‘just let them all burn.’”
The researchers came up with a term to describe the motivation behind these all-purpose conspiracy mongers. They called it the “need for chaos,” which they defined as “a mindset to gain status” by destroying the established order. In their study, nearly a third of respondents demonstrated a need for chaos, Petersen said. And for about 5 percent of voters, old-fashioned allegiances to the Democratic Party or the Republican Party melted away and were replaced by a desire to see the entire political elite destroyed—even without a plan to build something better in the ashes.
“These [need-for-chaos] individuals are not idealists seeking to tear down the established order so that they can build a better society for everyone,” the authors wrote in their conclusion. “Rather, they indiscriminately share hostile political rumors as a way to unleash chaos and mobilize individuals against the established order that fails to accord them the respect that they feel they personally deserve.” To sum up their worldview, Petersen quoted a famous line from the film The Dark Knight: “Some men just want to watch the world burn.”
Several months after I first read Petersen’s paper, I still can’t get the phrase need for chaos out of my head. Everywhere I look, I seem to find new evidence that American politics is being consumed by the flesh-eating bacteria of a new nihilism—a desire to see existing institutions destroyed, with no particular plan or interest to replace and improve them.
In a much-shared Politico feature from January, the reporter Michael Kruse profiled a 58-year-old New Hampshire voter named Ted Johnson, who voted for Barack Obama in 2008 and 2012, then for Donald Trump in 2016 and 2020. Johnson explained his pivot only with vague, destructive allegories. “Our system needs to be broken,” Johnson said. And only Trump, whom he acknowledged as “a chaos creator,” could deliver the crushing blow. Johnson reportedly works out of his three-bedroom house, which he bought in 2020 for $485,000 and which has appreciated almost 50 percent during Joe Biden’s presidency. He has a job, a family, and, clearly, a formidable financial portfolio. Still, he said he hopes that Trump “breaks the system” to create “a miserable four years for everybody.” We cannot fix the problems in our social institutions; we need to tear them down and start over.
Or take Representative Marjorie Taylor Greene, one of the more energetic MAGA mascots. Last August, she attended the first GOP presidential-nomination debate, which Trump declined to join. Ratings were abysmal, and Greene noted a certain lack of joie de vivre at the proceedings. “The number one comment I’m hearing in Milwaukee is ‘it’s boring without Trump here,’” she posted on X. I need chaos around me—it is too boring if nothing is going on.
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