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gingerjolover · 6 months

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prompt/blurb: different types of dates the boys would plan

first off, i LOVE this ask and i love the idea of the boys going on dates like we see their outings on insta i think they would be so into dates even if youre in a long term relationship

these are also what i imagine but as always we can discuss 😏

julien:

painting - you know the interview she is SO. CUTE. i think she would be so into taking a painting class or one of those wine+painting things, even like color me mine where you paint plates for your kitchen. she would definitely smile everytime one of you eats off the plate, wiggling her eyebrows.

if you paint on canvas, she gives me the vibes of after your paintings dry hanging them on the wall of her studio, grabbing your by your belt loops and pulling you into her chest so your back is flush with her front and being like "look at us, couple'a picassos baby," and then giggling, smacking a kiss to your cheek.

cooking class - miss pesto pasta over here, i have this very specific scenario where you guys take a cooking class once a month or like whenever she's on break from tour. she despises the baking ones because its not as freeform as the cooking ones, but she loves watching you measure stuff and how excited you get whenever the baked goods are coming out of the oven. she definitely says some cheesy joke after trying it being like "almost as sweet as you sugar," especially in her little twang AHHHH

but she loves the cooking classes, i think specifically pasta making or a pizza class. she loves wiping the flour off of your face and standing close to you, your arms brushing against each other as you both fiddle with the pasta attachment on a stand mixer. she loves the domesticity of it and leaves with recipes that she can make for you when she's home

phoebe:

fall things - okay don't kill me for this but homegirl loves a spooky moment, she DEFROSTS in the fall and i think she secretly loves a christian girl autumn moment. i imagine phoebe taking you (and maxine ofc) to a corn maze-fall farm-apple cider-hayride-esque date. you guys walk around (bundled up depending on if ur in la or somewhere that's colder in the fall) hand in hand, maxine trots along in front of you. you'll be standing in line for caramel apples or some fall treat, wrapped around phoebe as she looks up at the menu options, maxine at your feet, jumping up and stretching at your knees. Phoebe would turn her head, asking what you want and then kissing your nose softly before ordering. i just think she'd live for walking around and looking at all the farm to table goods in the little store near the exit. you'd definitely leave with some pumpkins and some random Halloween costume for maxine.

thrifting - i don't know why but i think she would be so fun to thrift with, like not so much you buy a ton of clothes but she would love to look around and get some stuff for y'alls house, like random dad joke mugs or vintage plate sets. i think she would be SO DOWN for the vintage painting trend where people buy old paintings and paint ghosts on them. she would be so stoked when you found the perfect painting, both of you getting home and painting the lil ghosts, hanging it in the kitchen. you both stare at it, heads cocked to the side when she's like, "good job baby.... but this is like... too on brand...right?" before laughing.

lucy:

museum - cultured queenie! i think she'd take advantage, especially when on tour to bring you to museums with the rest of the boys, you'd walk around with all of them before the two of you wander off and spend some time leisurely walking through different exhibits. she would definitely buy you some overpriced cheap souvenirs at the gift shop, kissing the corner of your mouth before rolling her eyes, a loving smile on her face when she sees you bouncing on your heels excitedly.

if you're living with her in philly, y'all def take advantage of the art museum in the city and visit the ones in the suburbs or even take weekend trips up and down the east coast/mid-atlantic to go to different ones. I also think she'd be down to road trip, stopping at museums and galleries along the way, holding your thigh as she drives on the interstate, nodding along as you describe some new exhibit you're excited about.

bookstore - you know the vibes, luce looooves a good bookstore. i feel like the vibes would be sooooo goood, she would definitely seek out used bookstores and the aisles are more narrow so she walks right up on you, rubbing your hips or lower abdomen as she stands behind you, your back flush with her chest. she would love letting you rest against her in a hug, rubbing your ass through your jeans . You'll be reading the back of a book, her lips subtly kissing the skin of your shoulder and neck before squeezing past you.

okay so it's not all kissing and ass grabs, you def have intellectual discussions about theory and the books you're both grabbing. there's also talks about if more books will actually fit in your home because the spare bedroom is already a library and you love to indulge lucy's bibliophile habits but you genuinely don't know if they will fit.

all da boys:

hiking, conservatories, nature reserves, aquariums, etc.

we know based on insta that they live for this shit, i can imagine any of them taking you to one of these places and just enjoying the shit out of it, maybe even a group date with all of their partners 👀i think they'd all be thrilled by a conservatory or botanical garden, idk so much about aquariums but i love aquariums so let me have this. but again i just think anything leisurely they love, all of them walking hand in hand with you at any of these places, being able to cuddle up to you when standing.... i meannnnn cmonnnnn

#anon cutie #julien baker x reader #lucy dacus x reader #phoebe bridgers x reader #boygenius #julien baker #lucy dacus #phoebe bridgers #boygenius blurbs #boygenius x reader

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weridpersonhelp · 1 year

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Red Phone [4]

Wally x reader?

Previus - Next?

master list!

warning: slightly scary, first-time horror writer, stalking, confusion, gramma and spell mistakes, screaming, getting up a horrible hour of night, neurodivergent reader, slow burnish? , x reader, children, puppets, curse langue, music, be ready for cringe!

Safa still hasn’t responded to my text; it seems she was still searching for the show on the web. I was honestly getting too bored, and I could tell Jim was as well. He just sit’s their sighing while holding a toy, mum and dad went out to do something, and Grandma was down for her nana nap. So, it was just me and the baby, chilling but bored out of our mind.

“You want to watch welcome home Jimmy?” Jim just says gibberish which I take as a yes, I walk to the Vhs player, but the tape wasn’t their! I look around in the box from before and crouch down to see if the tape fell out again. I couldn’t find it, maybe grandma hid it? But why? It’s a nice show from what I could tell. That’s when I notice it in the bookshelf, up high. I had to jump to get it, but it was worth it, and I put the show on.

“Ready Jimmy welcome home! You know what I think we should treat ourselves what is the question, you’re allowed to eat solids now so what should I make?” I ask him as if he was paying any attention.

“Hello neighbour! How are you today?” he pauses as if waiting for a response.

“I hope you are happy. I feel happy too, when I am happy, I like to paint. I like to paint to feel happy. What do you like to do to feel happy?” Wally asks, the pose he was in reminded me of bob rose though his canvas was empty, and he only had one brush.

“I thin that would make me happy too. Even though I am happy, neighbour, I have a problem. I don’t know what to plaint!” the screen focuses on the empty canvas.

“I could paint a butterfly, or a rock. or a tree. There are too many things to paint, I can’t decide what would I like to do. I don’t know how to solve this problem. Neighbour when you have a problem what do you do?” wally pauses again, and the dog comes in eating a hot dog with whipped cream. And started to help wally with the problem, and honestly now I wanted a hot dog.

“Alright Jimmy, I’m going to cook us up some sausages to lunch you stay here for me?” I ask him but his eyes where too focused on wally and Barnaby, and like that I leave him be. I put the sausages on boiling the water, and placing them in I set a timer, and leave the pot there. I pull out a bowl, I am making frank let’s or little boys’ sausages as my grandma would say, I pull out the tomato sauce and BBQ sauce. But once again the red phone catches my eyes, I swear it was if it was pulling me in every time, I laid eyes on the phone. But I felt a sense of danger as if someone or something was begging me not to go near it. It leaves it. And no nothing. I take my eyes off it finally and walk to the loungeroom t leaning on the corridor as I watched a new episode of the show start. But Wally wasn’t their it was just Julie and frank.

“"Where could Wally be?! he's taking forever!" Julie Wines stomping her feet a little i frustration.

"I wonder where he could be, he's never been late before!" Frank asks looking to the camera when Wally structs into the scene.

"Wally where have you been?! now we can finally get the show on a roll! sally waiting for us!" Julie says grabbing his hand and dragging him along while frank stay behind a little.

"Are you alright Wally?" Frank asks.

"Yes of course! I was just on the phone to someone! Sorry neighbour but let’s get going hopefully sally’s okay with us being a little late.”

“I doubt it.” Frank says making me giggle a little at frank, Jim copies and crawls up to the tv pointing to frank while giggling. I sneak up behind the boy and turn the tv off by the remote.

“Come on Jimmy, it’s lunch time! We can watch more after I promise!”

{hello my viewers, tune into the next chapter because I have a Suprise! i feel like I've been dragging out your meeting with him so i though I would do it in chapter 5! but also i need your help on voting something for the serious. it will be in the next chapter but just giving you a heads up!

also please comment if you wanna be tagged, i don't think many of you saw my post on who wanted to be tagged in the next one. thanks for the support! I'll continue to try my best!}

Tag: @quittingfortgebetter

#welcome home wally darling #welcome home wally #welcome home puppet show #welcome home #welcome home arg #wally darling x reader #wally darling #welcome home frank #frank welcome home #red phone #julie joyful #poppy partridge #howdy pillar #sally starlet #x reader #welcome home x reader #partycoffin #welcome home fanfic.

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darklydeliciousdesires · 1 year

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Thy Art is Murder - A Nestor Oceteva/Reader Smut Short.

Just a little thing that popped into my brain, so I had to write it. Enjoy!

Words - 451

Warnings - Smut below the cut, minors DNI!

He wore his hair down. You should have known right away at witnessing those onyx tendrils cascading around him like a dark halo that he’d seek to play your weaknesses. Every single one of them. Your body is the canvas on which he paints the most vivid of sins, your verbal reactions to them the symphonic accompaniment. If art is pleasure, then he is the truest master of such creation.

The bindings that fashion your wrists, intricate knots and twirls of rope binding you to the bed frame are replicated at each ankle, Nestor tying you so that you are a X upon his bed, the marked spot of where his focus draws, where he begins his creation. What he gives, you seek more, from his tongue and fingers to the soft caress of a feather, or the chilled, sharp kiss of a blade, he strokes you before you’re marked, pleasure prefacing the pain.

He maps out all areas with keen exploration, a tongue under the curve of each breast, fingertips stroking the arches of your feet, lips kissing the round of your knees, until he hears the strain against the ropes, the wordless beg for him to acquaint himself with you more intimately.

"Little dove," he murmurs. "All you have to do is ask."

“Please, Nestor,” you grit, your body shuddering from the radiating hum of energy he’s slowly and carefully been building. “I need to feel you mouth lower.”

He pauses the decadent, slow trawling lick around your navel, dark eyes focusing on you. He then shifts, placing a kiss upon your hip. “Here?”

The action has you in spasm. “No.”

He smirks, his tongue rolling over the apex of your inner thigh. “Here?”

“No.”

He chuckles, his breath misting heat as he nears your folds, the scent of your arousal like summer wine to him, rich, full-bodied and so very sharply sweet. “Tell me where, mi amor.”

“Right on my clit. Please. Please!” you whimper.

He kisses your folds, your nectar wetting his lips, repeating, watching the way the muscles in your abdomen bounce, before finally, his tongue grants what you so desire. The action sends warm wells of ecstasy tumbling through you, little pricks of pleasure melting down your spine, his tongue soft, circles drawn lazily over your bud. It’s gratification unmatched, but alas, not for nearly as long as you require.

You whine, and he reprimands you, slapping your sex with the flat of his fingers. “Uh, uh,” he admonishes, moving to suck upon your nipple. “You will not be greedy. Understand?”

“I do,” you breathe, his mouth meeting the juncture of your neck.

“Good,” he breathes, tongue moving to flick your earlobe. “Masterpieces always take time.”

#nestor oceteva #nestor oceteva fanfiction #nestor oceteva x female reader #nestor oceteva smut #nestor oceteva imagine #mayans mc #mayans mc fanfiction #mayans mc imagine #mayans mc smut #manny mayans mc fanfiction #mayans mc fic

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princessozera · 1 year

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"Would you mind being a nude model for me?"

No smut or other shenanigans

MC is GN (3rd ppov)

Word count: 632

Lucifer

A bit startled, flustered with how forward MC is being (seemingly unaware of the designer eyebags MC was cultivating through sleepless nights)

He lets MC choose his pose, but he insists they do this in his room; his brothers wouldn't interrupt them and he would admittedly be more comfortable.

Since MC's room is so close, they lug over most of their supplies in case they want to add color to the painting. MC sits Lucifer in a chair in front of the fireplace- legs crossed, drink in one hand, head turned at an angle, and the skeleton looming above them. Turning off half of the room lights emphasized the shadows from the fireplace and gave Lucifer a serious and exalted air, even if he was just sitting in a chair with only his boxers on.

He gives MC some wine; a cup that goes untouched but he does see them drop the paint brushes in there from time to time

Despite MC's insistence, Lucifer only accepts about half of the breaks that MC offers. He insists that he can hold the pose for longer, it was relaxing to just talk with them and sit about with no work to attend to. He carries the conversation while MC works, talking about a new vinyl he's obtained, a few song writers he admired had come out of retirement. How he acquired the skeleton statue, how he designed the layout of the room, his thoughts on the art lining his walls- anything but work. He could complain about work anytime, he doesn't want to mess with the relaxed atmosphere now.

Lucifer sneaks a few glances at MC while they draw. Brow set low, so deeply focused on trying to get the shadows right that they didn't notice Lucifer staring at them. They'd smile every so often while looking at their painting and he can't help but wonder if it was something he said, or something they drew. He hoped they wouldn't add hearts to his boxers or paint a goatee beard on him.

MC also takes notice of Lucifer, although they're far more subtle with it. Lucifer had been more nervous than he'd admit to- MC had enough anatomy practice to know that you don't get definition like that unless you were flexing and tense. They drew rough shapes and worked a bit on the background for now, drawing a skeleton was also practice, right? MC encouraged Lucifer to talk and take sips of his drink, and started to draw him more as he began to relax. A softer stomach, shoulders that sloped downwards, a hint of his smile that lingered in his eyes. They didn't know if it was the increased focus, or perhaps an illusion released, but they felt like they were seeing Lucifer a bit more clearly. The silver tips of his hair climbed higher than before, the beginning signs of crows feet near his eyes, a constellation of scars across his skin. MC catches Lucifer smiling while reminiscing about his past and how he came to own some of the more intricate pieces in his room. They can't prevent their own smile and hope the canvas is high enough to hide their expression.

MC shows Lucifer the drawing, pretending to put away their things but actually trying to get a look at Lucifer's reaction. He compliments their technique and shading, pointing out his favorite parts and offering advice if MC asks for it.

He thanks MC for allowing him to be their muse for a night, and if MC can be convinced to part with the drawing, he'll insist on paying for it.

Lucifer develops a crick in his neck from having his head turned for so long, and MC massages his neck while chiding him for not taking more breaks.

((Levi))

#obey me lucifer #om lucifer #obey me! lucifer

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yeehawbvby · 1 year

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Leah with a farmer that was trying to be an artist, but got stuck in the dead-end Joja job and decided to quit to be a farmer, but now they miss being able to make art cause there's like no time in the day for it, so Leah sets up a whole thing for them to just make art for a whole day.

I’ve barely written for Leah before, so fingers crossed this is alright!! :’) Hope you don't mind the established relationship either.

Thanks so much for your patience, I hope you enjoy! x

Down by the River (Leah x GN!Reader)

Rating: G | WC: 933

Sometimes when I’m out amidst my crops, I lay down for a bit and look up at the sky. I study the way the clouds make vivid shapes from their vapor; how birds fly in a perfect pattern, going Yoba knows where; the way the inner atmosphere of our planet looks hand-painted by Lupini himself.

Other times, I’ll sit amongst my chickens and ducklings by the pond, amazed at how brightly their feathers contrast against the dull dirt, and how the water sparkles as it splashes against their plump little bodies that float atop it.

There’s so much beauty in nature, and while I love what I do, I want nothing more than to be able to create something just as beautiful as the scenery I work in every day, of every month, of every year.

My wife gets to do such things for a living. I love Leah more than life itself, but I can’t help the jealousy that seeps through me as I watch her etch away at old wood, or paint anything she wants on hand-stretched canvas at any given time of the day. It’s one of the things I love most about her – her love for art being just as fierce as mine – but I wish I could be at her side, collaborating on pieces, or simply being in each other’s presence while we do our own thing.

One early spring morning, I wake up to an empty bed. I’m used to this, though. Leah’s always been an early bird. Unlike most mornings, there’s a note waiting for me on her pillow.

“Hope you slept well <3

There’s something I wanna show you! Meet me at my place at 10.

(Don’t worry about the farm – I got up extra early to water the crops and feed the animals.)

Enjoy your morning off! :)

P.S. There’s some freshly cut fruit in the fridge, if you want some with your breakfast!”

Relief washes over me as I lay back down on my pillow. Even through winter, I’m often busy cleaning the barns and coops or upkeeping our wine and cheese fermentation... It’s been so long since I’ve been able to simply be, much less spend even a few mere hours with my love. I take the opportunity she’s given me to sleep in a little bit longer.

_______________

As I approach Leah’s cottage, I shift through a few different emotions.

First up is confusion. What’s all this stuff laid out on her front lawn? There’s a huge, yellow gingham picnic blanket sprawled by the river, with a small record player next to it. The blanket is covered in paints, small canvases, wood blocks, clay…

My second feeling is happiness. I notice that on the blanket is also a bottle of Blue Moon wine, with two cups and two water bottles all placed neatly in a straw basket. There are two palettes and two sets of brushes of varying sizes. Two sets of pencils, charcoals, pastels; two clusters of tools to carve and sculpt with.

Third? Love. Having expected me, Leah exits her old home just as I near her set-up. Her hair, as usual, is draped to the side in a long braid, but today she’s woven small flowers into it. Her freckled, sun-kissed cheeks are dusted beautifully pink as she looks at me from large, periwinkle eyes, waiting for my reaction to her surprise.

“Do you like it?” she asks, basking in the scene she’s created. “I know it’s been bugging you that you never really have time to make your own art, so I figured we could spend the day doing just that!”

I nod, tears welling in my eyes. “Leah, this is perfect,” I sniffle, pulling her into my arms. Her hugs have always been just as warm and welcoming as her paintings. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

“Thank you.” She pulls away from my embrace, takes my hands in hers, and meets my lips with a soft kiss before explaining herself. “You’re the reason I’m able to spend as much time on personal projects as I do commissioned work. You’ve given me the best life I could’ve asked for.”

Leah beams at me, and I swear her smile makes my stomach flutter with butterflies. She continues softly, “You know, you can ask me for help on the farm any time you want. I know you take pride in your work, but you deserve time to do the things you love too. Okay?”

I nod again, feeling a weight that I didn’t know my shoulders bore being lifted off them. Untangling our fingers, I cup Leah’s face and kiss her again. “I love you so much.” Placing my forehead gently against hers, I whisper, “Seriously, thank you for this.”

“I love you too.” My wife plants a kiss on the tip of my nose before pulling away again. She playfully quips, “You can thank me by making some cool stuff for me to look at! Come on!”

I follow her onto the blanket, my cheeks sore from grinning so widely. “Let me draw your portrait?”

“Only if I can paint yours!” she counters.

Having been so long since I’ve last made anything, I start off feeling a bit rusty. But just as fluidly as the river flows, I sink back into a familiar rhythm. With some of the most picturesque scenery one could ever imagine, everything I need to create anything I want within an arm’s reach, and my amazing partner at my side, I have the most perfect day I could’ve asked for.

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flutterz · 24 days

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˙ ៹ @ aria's place !

" since when did painting become this difficult ? " head tilts to the side , unsure if the product of her paint by numbers is exactly what the original artist had intended ⸻ no doubt thanks to the near empty glass of chateau margaux sat on the table next to the palette of gouache paint to her left . " i mean , it sort of looks like a mountainscape . . . doesn't it ? " she can barely stifle her laughter as she turns the canvas around , blobs of purple and pink that were meant to be flowers bleeding into green grass , brown mountains speckled with white spots that could almost looked like snow if she squinted . " pretty sure i could give van gogh a run for his money with this if i'm being honest , " not even she could take that seriously , laughter spilling out of her mouth as she sets the canvas down and picks up her wine glass to finish it off . " please tell me yours looks just as bad . " ( @gemmajcmes )

#( interactions )#( featuring : gemma )

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hymnoire · 1 month

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Am I boring you? Stop I know I am... Come on, you can tell me. These are always the words Gaya would blabber once the wine has gained her spirits, by the end of the night after many glasses shared with Micha ( @crue11 ) . If the Ice Princess was known not to be so talkative, so open in the little things about her life she allows herself to speak on, it is different here. Endless conversations about a flawed law system, sometimes her annoyance of the management issues at her art gallery, other times the insane tales of an unstable family. Blabbers usually tell more than one would want, through the smallest details of facial expressions, tones and whatnots. The color of blood is wipped from Micha's pale skin, now spreading on the damp cloth in Gaya's hand. Tonight isn't so different than their usuals. If Gaya is talkative, Micha right now isn't so much. Gaya believes the other communicates differently, by letting her near whenever in states Micha shouldn't be seen in. I don't have to ask, I already know. Is a silent rule as in, Gaya does not mind ignoring the fucked up Micha might commit. The heiress wouldn't be the slightlest surprised, shocked nor alarmed. There is blood, on Micha's hands and body and face ; blood under the stilettos of Gaya's too. The Kang never kills out of pleasure, never hunts herself, never does that dirty work - she Has her targets killed, the glock in the hand of her henchmen as she watches the secret allies of her Father perishing before her eyes like the seasons passing, unavoidable, dreaming of the day she will be the one murdering the said Patriarch but this time : the glock will be in her hands. "Do I?"

Gaya's voice, when it isn't raised to dictate, to command, to demand, is less cold than one would ever think. There is delicacy, almost tenderness while she handles Micha's neck, turning it to the left, her fingers sometimes slipping from the fabric, bumping into Micha's skin. The water is warm and so is the air. "Thank you." She whispers with a natural smile on. "I've been told Black hardens my features even more than they already are. That I should color myself to appeal to the masses." Gaya scoffs, in that sarcastic cynical way she always has, when her brow arches slighly and the corner of her lip turns into a smirk full of disdain, disdain she has for these teams managing her public image. "What am I, a clown ?" Gaya is a public figure indeed and well, the heiress isn't known for her warmth. More than that, she believes warmth should only be given to the ones deserving it, like right here, right now as her grin over dump cloth is tender, tender on Micha's skin. "That color suits you, too." The color of red, the color of blood she means as her eyes linger on the other slowly, only guessing Micha's curves that are blurred in the red tainted water. "On these nights, all I do is washing it away, the color... When truly, your body is a canvas. It tells a story, doesn't it? Maybe a story you don't wanna tell yourself. You don't have to, it does it for you." The story of Kim Micha, one Gaya wants to discover one layer after the other, savour. "Will you let me paint you sometime? On a night where I don't feel like washing you right away. Not your face. Just your skin. Something for my eyes only."

#龍 : 𝐤𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐚𝐲𝐚. / the heiress.#龍 : 𝐤𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐚𝐲𝐚. / interactions.#Homoerotism 101 #Sociopathic girlfriends or nothing

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apexart-journal · 15 days

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Jevijoe in Tbilisi, Day 27

It is my last day in Tbilisi, and I miss the city already.

I was packing up my things for New York, and I could not believe that I accumulated so much stuff that it wouldn't fit in my luggage.

I have to buy an additional luggage bag and also some souvenirs and gifts for New York friends, colleagues, and coworkers. But before I did my itinerary, I prepared a brunch for my last stay in this beautiful and historic apartment, just a noodle soup left over and wine while viewing the window, my last stare at the street of Tbilisi from this perfect balcony spot.

I'm filled with gratitude to the people whom I have met here, especially Mariam, who is a wonderful fellowship coordinator here and also an accomplished artist who represented Georgia in the Venice Biennale in 2022!

I thought of a last-minute farewell dinner later this evening, so I messaged most of the people I met through Whatsapp, hoping they could come over.

I rushed outside to buy the cheapest luggage bag. Then I went to the flea market to buy souvenir gifts and ended up being obsessed with coin and money paper bill collections. I found an old $2 US dollar bill that is so rare in the US, as well as commemorative Olympic coins and silver spoons. I was beginning to wonder why I was buying stuff for myself and not for my friends in New York.

During my flea market buying spree, I was impressed by a woman artist's humility and kindness in selling her small paintings of Tbilisi scenes for 5 lari (that is 1.85 US dollars!). Made of watercolor on linen canvas cloth, I bought several paintings signed by her. I dropped by the local grocery store for souvenir goods and bought variety of Churchkelas, a traditional Georgian candy that looks like candles.

In the evening, I had an incredible dinner night with the Georgian folks, and we talked about a lot of crazy stuff about Georgian history, etc. I recall Nika asking me, "So tell us about your experience in Georgia; we already knew the good ones, but tell us the bad ones." Honestly, I could not think of "bad ones" or a bad experience at all. It's one of the cities I visited where I felt safe even in the "after-party" early morning hours. I was searched by police twice, but it was a random routine and respectful.

My Qvevri that I made during the pottery class was delivered that night by Anna, our pottery teacher. It took a while to process the firing, the glazing, etc. because I told her days ago that I really wanted to bring the earthenware to New York.

5 a.m. is my flight the next day, so I have to return the key to the apartment to the Airbnb owner. I met Vahtang, the Airbnb owner's father, and handed him the key, and I told him, If I'm going back to Tbilisi in the near future, I really want to stay in the same place!

My one-month stay here in Tbilisi has taught me a valuable lesson: Just be present.

#jevijoe vitug #outbound to Tbilisi

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greysdrug · 2 years

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Sip and paint near me

#Sip and paint near me how to#

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#Sip and paint near me how to#

At painting with a twist in oklahoma city we know how to show you the best wine and paint. Sip and Paint aims to be your go-to spot where you could sip your favorite drink meet people relax paint and have fun.įind nearby sip and paint. The OG of Brisbanes paint and sip art scene its a thing Cork and Chroma will equip you with a glass of BYO wine in one hand and a paintbrush in the other before teaching you the basic techniques of painting with acrylics on canvas. Its Always Paradise At Flamingo Beach Painting Crafts Paint And Sip Time Painting Painters choice is typically offered on Tuesdays and Thursdays 7pm. To date Painting with a Twisters have donated more than 5 million to local and national nonprofits such as Habitat for Humanity the Multiple Sclerosis Foundation and the Vera Bradley Foundation for Breast Cancer.

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tran16swanson · 2 years

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artstudioofthesmokies · 3 years

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wallpaperpaintings · 4 years

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wallpaperpainter · 4 years

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

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Portrait of a Dangerous Man🎨2

Warnings: (series) non-consent sex and rape; slow creep; cucking; (this chapter) nothing as yet.

This is dark!mob!Clark Kent x reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: Your dream of having your work hung in an art show comes true but your first buyer is not all he seems to be.

Note: Thank you for your positive response to this one! I hope you enjoy what I have in store.

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Your Spotify list of redundant tracks flowed through the apartment as you sat typing at your small desk in the corner of the front room. The boxy space was as oppressive as any office space, another reason for your voluntary work at the gallery. Vanessa let you in the studio to paint. Without the privilege, you wouldn’t have the space for your easel.

You stretched your fingers and rubbed your eyes. You felt dizzy from staring at the screen, even with night mode on. The work was monotonous and made you restless. You wanted a pencil or brush in hand, a canvas before you, not this blaring laptop. You yawned and took a sip of your lukewarm water.

Your phone vibrated from across the room and you checked the time. Your lunch started soon but no one was really keeping track. As long as you got your assignments done, it didn’t matter when you chewed on toast and disassociated.

You got up and grabbed your phone from the corner table and leaned against the arm of the couch. You remembered how Marcus woke up there and grumbled as he lifted his head in pain. You couldn’t really feel bad for him going into work hungover. He embarrassed you and it didn’t quite sink in until after Clark left you to stare down at your drunk boyfriend.

An unknown number showed on your screen and you answered tentatively, ready to hang up at the first sales pitch. Your name came from the speaker and you recognized the deep voice in an instant. It took you back to the night before and the canvas hung on the wall.

“I hope I’m not disturbing you,” Clark said, “I only just had the paintings hung and I thought… well, I thought you might like to come see them in their new home.”

“Um…” you chewed your thumb, uncertain how to respond.

“Sorry, I know I can be a bit… to the point,” he laughed at himself, “how are you?”

“I’m good, just… taking a break.”

“You working?”

“Yeah, but I work from home,” you said as you touched the side of your neck, “I could… I could come see them but it might be a while before--”

“When are you finished work?” he asked bluntly.

“Four but I… maybe another day.”

“I don’t mean to be pushy but I did have something else to speak with you about,” he said, “a commission, like I mentioned.”

“Oh?”

“I kinda wanna get it started sooner than later, it will probably be pretty time-consuming,” he explained and you heard a clink and a soft sip, “I don’t wanna get into details on the phone but I promise, you will be compensated nicely.”

“You can’t wait until tomorrow?” you wondered.

“I suppose I can but it’d have to be during the day,” he responded, “why don’t you take some time to figure it out and get back to me by two? You can text me through this number.”

“Erm, sure,” you said uneasily, “I’m sorry, it’s just… very sudden, I don’t--”

“You can bring the boyfriend,” he said casually, “if you like.”

“He won’t be… home,” you said carefully, “I’ll let you know. Thank you.”

“I look forward to hearing from you,” he replied, “have a good day.”

“You, too,” you said and the line died.

You put your phone down and took a moment. Good things rarely happened to you. You struggled so long it was hard to think that might change. The skeptic in you told you there was something behind it all. That it couldn’t possibly be your art.

You went back to your computer and sighed as you waved away the screensaver with your mouse. The blinking cursor made you want to believe it was your big break.

🎨

You texted Clark at one and at four, you were in an Uber. Marcus drove his car to work and you stuck to buses and the underground when you could. The address was at least an hour out, the house among those estates on the edge of the city reserved for the upper echelon. You’d only ever seen the sprawling yards on your way to the next town.

When the car finally turned up the drive and you passed beyond a low brick wall, you felt entirely out of your depth. You tipped the Uber but didn’t feel too bad with the check from Vanessa sitting soundly in your account. You clutched the strap of your bag and walked along the curve of the brick work towards the stairs.

“Hey,” you stopped as Clark called to you, your ankle still tender from the night before.

You glanced over as he came out of the large garage and peeled off a pair of leather gloves. He smiled as he tucked them into his jacket pocket. You watched him and played with the clasp on your bag.

“Just got back from a drive,” he said, “I almost got carried away. I’m glad you made it.”

“Yeah, no problem,” you replied.

“Well, come on, let me show you around,” he waved behind you towards the front doors, “we’ll go on a tour and then we can talk details.”

“Wow,” you uttered mindlessly as you climbed the stairs to the door but kept the weight on your uninjured ankle, “this place is huge.”

“My contractor went a little crazy,” he scoffed, “but I can’t complain.”

He led you through the doors and directed you to the left. In the front room, your work was hung along the opposite wall, arranged in a way that drew the eye to them. You stepped closer and peered up at your work with a hint of awe. They looked even better in a place like that.

“I had my interior designer make the final call on where to hang them,” he explained, “I hope you don’t mind, I gave her your details. She said she had clients who might be interested in your work.”

“Really?” you breathed, “that’s… too nice.”

“Oh yeah? One day, you’ll be sick of rich pricks like me,” he grinned, “I’ll show you the pool, that’s usually the main attraction.”

“Sounds good,” you said as you followed but he paused and watched your stunted gait.

“I forgot, we can go slow,” he offered, “how’s the ankle?”

“I’ll make do,” you affirmed as you neared him, “just need to get my steps in.”

🎨

As you finished the tour of the second floor, you slowed along the long hall and admired the work of artists you only ever saw in museums. You couldn’t help but be enamoured by the historic blots of paint. You almost forgot where you were as you leaned in to read the initials beneath the pastel flowers.

“So,” Clark’s voice brought you back, you almost blanked him out entirely in your mind, “I think you might have noticed the empty space above the fireplace in the front room. I was hoping you could fill it.”

“Oh?” you looked at him and smiled nervously, “did you have something in mind? A landscape or--”

“Well, your portraits are great. I like the old world style. I was hoping you might do one of… me,” he suggested, “I know, it’s vain but why not?”

“I mean, yeah, I could do that,” you said.

“I’ll pay hourly plus materials,” he continued, “three hundred an hour.”

You almost choked at the number. You blinked and swallowed through your surprise.

“Even a small portrait would take at least twelve hours,” you warned, “are you sure?”

“I know it’s a lot of time for you, so… I was thinking, if you have to miss work, I’ll factor it into your rate. I would really like to get the project started as soon as we can,” he put his hand on his hip as he looked down at you, “the only thing I need from you is a list of materials. I’ll have them waiting for you here.”

“Here?”

“Well, yeah, I figure it makes most sense,” he turned his palm out.

“Hmm, sure, I prefer my own brushes but… you know I can just buy the stuff myself--”

“Ah, no, I want it to be perfect. You send me a list and I’ll have my assistant go out and get it all ready,” he assured, “How does Sunday sound?”

“Sunday?” you blanched. That was two days away.

“Like I said, Marcus is more than welcome to come with you,” he offered, “I’d hate to keep you from him too long.”

“I guess Sunday works,” you squeaked, “I’ll talk to Marcus.”

“Great,” he said coolly, “well, that’s business. How about a drink to seal the deal?”

“I don’t know, I should probably get back,” you fiddled with your bag against your hip.

“One drink won’t hurt,” he said, “go on, call the boyfriend and let him know you won’t be much longer.”

“I… thanks,” you murmured.

“You’re humble for an artist,” he joked as he sidled by you, “once you grow an ego, you’ll be unstoppable.” He neared the stairs as you turned to watch him, “I’ll be at the bar, waiting. You like gin?”

“Sure,” you answered as you pulled out your phone, “I’ll see you down there.”

🎨

When you told Marcus about your new side gig, he was even more excited than you. You were anxious and slightly hesitant. You hated to jump in feet first and risk losing more than a few tubes of paint. What if the work wasn’t good enough?

Marcus was more than willing to come with you when you told him about the size of the place. He knew by the area that it was extravagant. You sat in the passenger seat with the most expensive bottle of wine you’d ever bought cradled between your legs. You hated to show up empty handed after all of Clark’s generosity.

Marcus got lost and went down the wrong driveway before you righted your course. As you drove up, you were once more overcome from the rich rosebuds and sparkling fountain at the centre of the mosaic. You gripped the neck of the bottle and got out as Marcus whistled in awe.

“You weren’t kidding. This place is fucking nuts,” he swore, “I should’ve worn the tux from my brother’s wedding.”

“Please, Marcus,” you rolled your eyes, “let’s both try not to break anything.”

“You’re the clumsy one,” he chirped, “shit, you’re so lucky. You get to hang out here and paint all day? God, I wish I had an ounce of artistic talent. I’d trade it for code in a minute.”

You climbed the steps and clanged the large knocker on the right door. You waited a moment before an answer came and Clark appeared on the other side and beckoned you inside. He smiled as he shook Marcus’ hand.

“Thanks for joining us,” he said, “I would’ve felt awful stealing your girlfriend on the weekend like this.”

“Are you kidding me? She said you had a pool and I snuck the swim shorts into the backseat,” Marcus chuckled and you nudged him with your elbow.

“See?” Clark arched a brow, “the pool is always the seller.”

“Here,” you said as you held out the bottle of red, “for everything you’ve done and welcoming us into your home.”

“Ohhh,” he took the bottle and looked over the label, “I got a spot for this right behind the bar. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, I brought my brushes,” you patted the canvas bag on your shoulder.

“Mmm, yeah, well, I’ll just put this away and we’ll give Marcus the grand tour. Then I’ll get you situated,” he assured and rushed off.

He returned and pointed Marcus through to the front room, “you’ll see, just over here,” he directed him to your paintings.

“Oh, wow, babe,” Marcus marveled at the hung portraits, “you really did it.”

You smiled bashfully and Clark peeked over at you and winked. You squirmed as your cheeks burned and you turned away as he beckoned Marcus past the mantle.

“It’s a big place,” Clark said, “I’d like to get you started before noon.”

Clark led you along the same path as days before and slowed as you came back to the top of the stairs. He turned back and clapped his hands together.

“Marcus, if you wanna hop in the pool, we’re gonna start just in there,” he pointed to the one door you hadn’t looked through, “that’s the studio.”

“What about you?” Marcus asked.

“Well, I’ll be a part of the process so I’m afraid I will be just as busy but if you need anything, Nina, she has a crooked nose and mean mouth but don’t let her fool you, she’ll get you whatever you need,” he said, “just don’t track in water from the pool or she’ll string you up.”

“Oh, well, that doesn’t sound too bad. Some alone time in the sun and a pool,” Marcus grinned, “I really couldn’t ask for anything else… except you, babe.”

“Sure,” you scoffed, “go, have fun.”

Marcus kissed you quickly and thanked Clark again before he excitedly barreled down the steps. You scratched your neck as you looked back to your host, and you guessed, your new boss.

“I’m sorry about him. He can be such a kid sometimes,” you said.

“Nah, it’s fine,” he waved it off, “so, you ready to see your workspace? I kinda wanted it to be a surprise. Also, a bit last minute so it’s not perfect… yet.”

“Uh, yeah,” you answered, “can’t wait.”

He motioned you over to the tall dusty rose doors and hooked his fingers in the slotted handles. He slid them open and revealed an airy room with a tall ceiling and long windows. An easel stood facing the sun streaked glass, an immense canvas bigger than yourself, bigger than him, propped up on it. There was a ladder nearby and the table was set with a rainbow of paints and a large pallet.

Your lips parted as you neared the easel and stared up at the canvas, “you were right, it’s gonna be a lot of work.”

“I hope it’s not too much,” he said, “but you name your price. We’ll make it work.”

“No, no, I think for what you’re paying, I’ll do just fine,” you put your bag down daintily on the table, “so, uh, a portrait, I guess that means…”

Your voice trailed off as he went to the upholstered chair across the room, at an angle so you could see him from your vantage. Behind it, hung a velvet curtain to add to the scene and a bust on a pedestal. It felt surreal, like a dream.

You turned and pulled out the brushes, “I think you’ll get more tired than me, just sitting there.”

“I’ll make it through,” he assured as he sat, “is there anyway you’d like me to sit? Chin up, or…”

“Hmmm,” you turned to look at him, “I think… if you just put your shoulders back and… did you want a profile or--”

“I was thinking front-facing,” he stared at you steadily, unflinching as his eyes stuck to you, “just like this.”

“Perfect,” you said nervously and looked back to the table.

There was water to rinse your brushes, rags, pencils, blending sticks; everything you needed and more. You took a pencil from the bunch and pulled over the ladder. You climbed up and looked over at Clark as he sat stoic and still. He looked picturesque in real life, you expected paint would only lend to his figure.

His eyes met yours and you turned to start tracing the basic shapes onto the canvas. You had to stop and steady your hand as you did. His gaze made it hard not to tremble.

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