A reading portrait of an Afghan lady as photographed by Steve McCurry.
I find this beautiful. At first, there’s this simple girl holding something to read, but at a closer look you’ll see her hands are chalked. This photograph of a woman is an epitome of a person’s perseverance to learn, that is unbridled by any kind of hurdles.
Much to my great annoyance, Gaston was the first thing on my mind when I woke up the next morning. Even as I stood in front of my easel, at the kitchen window, I found myself distracted from the one thing I usually lost myself in so easily. Every one in a while, I’d snap to attention, paintbrush paused in my hand and a dopey smile on my face…remembering the way his touch had felt as he brushed paint from my cheek the night before.
Request: i saw this imagine earlier in the tag that’s jugheadxartist!reader and i loved it so much i want more … just anything jugheadxartist!reader or archie for that matter whoever you want
A/N: So I went with Archie because I read the original that inspired this request… and I loved it. I didn’t want to in any way rip that off, so I figured we’d give Archie a shot at some artist fun because we all know artists have more fun… It’s small, and cute. I love it. Also, this was written more from the idea that the reader is an art student, like myself. However!!! I’ll be posting one later for a more creative, cartoon type artist, so be on the lookout for that one. I’ll link it here or something when it’s up.
Word count: 431
Archie always loved watching you work. As much as it pained him to see you stressing over deadlines, there was something about how even through that stress, you were always most at peace with a brush in your hand. You had a very clean, pristine look to you when you were working, even though often it resulted in some material smeared across your brow. “Better paint on my face than sweat on my paint,” you’d always say in response to his muffled giggle.
The art room was your second home, and because you were there most of the time, so was Archie. You were stood at one of the easels, a set of chalk in one hand and canvas at eye level. Your current piece was three by four foot chalk pastel piece, the sheer size of it enough to get your palms sweating. Your light wash jeans, black turtleneck, smooth skin were all covered in the medium, dark blues and greens staining every other inch of your form.
Archie was writing silently, the only noise in the room your scratchy chalk against thick paper and your slightly fast breathing. His gaze lifted for a moment from his laptop screen, looking at your profile against the ridiculously good piece of art.
“Shit,” he murmured. You turned quickly, an alarmed look on your face.
“Oh god, it’s not done yet. Don’t look!” You raced to try and cover it, arms spread to cover it. “We had a deal, Archie! You could be here right now as long as you don’t look until it’s done.”
“Babe, it’s…” He stood up, softly moving your arms down to your side, wrapping his arm around your waist and tugging you back a few feet. “Gorgeous. It’s gorgeous.” You dropped your head to his shoulder, running a chalky hand through your hair. “I’m seriously in awe.”
“Thank you, Arch.” You smiled into his neck, standing on your tiptoes to kiss just under his ear.
“When’s this due?”
“Friday.” He smiled.
“Let’s go get some food.” You smiled in return, however within a moment you looked down to your state, covered in chalk pastel, an art mess.
“I’m in no shape to go anywhere other than my art cave…” He grinned, looking over you.
“That’s a shame because… I love showing off my artist girlfriend.” You pressed a chaste kiss to his lips.
“We dippin’ to go to Pop’s?”
He laughed at the smile that lit up in your eyes, “Yeah.” You begin collecting your materials and shoving them into your rucksack. “And you’re keeping the chalk on your face.”
Lance woke up feeling much better than before, and stretched out in his bed with a yawn. He slid out of the sheets and padded over the the closet, checking his phone along the way.
4:27pm: Hey Lance, the surgery went great! Stop by the hospital when you can! :D
5:13pm: hey, just woke up, how’s he doing? I need to go buy some stuff before I drop by to bring him home :3
5:16pm: he’s still asleep, I have him on tranquilizers until you get here so he doesn’t freak when he wakes up in an unfamiliar place with weird people. And what do you mean, bring him home?? You adopting him or smth?
5:19pm: you’ve been hanging around Pidge too much =_=;;
5:20pm: ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ
Laughing, Lance put his phone down and went back to pulling on a fresh change of clothes. He had some shopping to do, after all.
First stop was the clothing store. He sorted through the Hybrid section first, looking for Maine Coon clothing. He selected a few soft long sleeve shirts and hoodies, as well as sweatpants and boxers specifically tailored to a Cat Hybrid like Shiro. He figured the Cat would appreciate softer clothing than the weird purple shirt and black boxers he’d been found in.
After that he picked out some clothes for himself and paid before lugging it all to his car.
His next stop was the grocery store. If he was going to let Shiro live with him, he’d best stock up so that the starving kitty could eat as he pleased.
Once he’d gotten everything done, he hurriedly put everything away inside his house, food in the fridge and Hybrid clothes in the guest room drawers.
He texted Hunk to let him know he was on his way and stepped on the gas. His phone chimed with two new messages, one an acknowledgement from the Vet and another from Pidge saying she had something to show him at her place.
He pulled up to the hospital and jogged inside, Coran already waiting for him by the reception desk. “Room 524, Hunk’s weaning him off the tranquilizers now.” The mustached man directed, Lance nodding his gratitude and hurrying inside the elevators.
He stepped into the room, fingers crossed. Hunk was examining a chart, face pulled into a slight frown. Shiro was asleep on the bed, bandaged up and peaceful.
“Hey, Hunk. How’s he doing?” Lance asked, sliding the door shut behind him. Hunk looked up and smiled slightly.
“You look better.” The Vet commented, lowering the chart to eye his friend approvingly.
Lance chuckled. “Thanks, but I’m more interested in how Shiro’s doing.” He asked, noticing the flicker of unease in Hunk’s eyes. “Hunk? Is something wrong?” The smile dropped from Lance’s face, and blue eyes scanned worriedly over the Cat Hybrid.
“Well… Shiro was definitely abused. Badly. In fact, I think he was part of one of those underground fighting rings, Lance. He’s at least twenty seven, and he’s an Omega. But there’s no sign of any sexual abuse, so my guess is he got away before they tried anything. If he’s lived this long, he was probably one of their top fighters.” Hunk listed off grimly.
Lance frowned. “That’s… not good. Do you think they’ll come for him? His old owners?” He asked, concerned for the Cat Hybrid he’d gotten attached to in such a short time.
Hunk shook his head. “I doubt it. In fighting rings, the prime fighting age is between the years of thirteen and twenty-five. If he hadn’t escaped he’d either have been put in a Hybrid mill or killed. Poor guy… he’s been through a lot, if all the scars I saw were any indication.”
Lance moved over to brush his fingers against Shiro’s forelock. “Well, I’m definitely keeping him now. He deserves better. When I gave him a bath and some food it was like I’d hung the moon for him, Hunk. Nobody, not even a Hybrid, should go through something as terrible as a fighting ring for the amusement of others.” He growled, free hand clenching into a fist.
His fingers brushed against Shiro’s cheek, and the Cat Hybrid’s eyes slowly fluttered open. Lance quickly changed his facial expression to a kinder one, not wanting to scare the injured Cat.
“Hey kitty, feeling better?” Lance prodded carefully, relief at the soft smile and nod he got in return flooding his chest.
Checking his chart, Hunk hummed idly and scribbled something down. “I’d like him to stay one more night here to make sure he doesn’t get a fever and that his arm heals properly. Sickness caused by infection often shows up when the body relaxes and lets its guard down. It’s just a precaution.”
Lance nodded. “Hear that buddy? You need to stay here and rest for a little while, okay? I’m gonna go and run a few more errands but I will be right back. I promise.” He soothed, ruffling Shiro’s forelock affectionately, eliciting a happy purr from the Hybrid.
He pulled away and began to leave. “Hunk will take good care of you and make you feel better, okay? I’ll be back.”
As he headed to his car, he wondered what Pidge wanted to show him.
From under a pile of rubble called writer’s block, a dusty chalk covered hand barely manages to push this chapter towards you. The writer isn’t entirely happy with it, but it’s all she’s got for now. She apologizes and hopes you enjoyed the short chapter.
Hi! I was wondering if you could write something about Jason seeing Dick doing a trapeze act and just being in awe with how talented his boyfriend is?
I was thinking to myself “How do I write this one? How do I approach it?” and then I was reading another fic and the beginning dialogue popped into my head and wouldn’t leave and that’s the glory of writing folks! It’s not that much, but I think it was a cute little drabble?
“You didn’t have to come with me,” Dick said as they pulled up to the warehouse, both of them getting out of the car and Dick slipping a duffle bag over his shoulder.
“I know,” Jason said as they stepped up to the doors, opening them and stepping into the large space. “It’s just that I’ve never seen you do this before.”
“You’ve seen me do acrobatics before,” Dick said as he signed in at the desk.
“In the field,” Jason told him, referring to the way he’d seen Dick do acrobatics in combat or while flinging himself between buildings. He’d seen Dick doing some stuff at the gym, but never anything close to what he’d done when he was with the flying Graysons.
“I can promise you this won’t be nearly as exciting,” Dick said as he walked back into the large space. It looked like a gymnastics gym with some of the same things; uneven bars, a foam pit, mats everywhere. But then there were hoops and aerial silks hanging from the ceiling and a mock tightrope set up. There was a large space in the back half of the warehouse with a net hanging below it, loose and ready to catch anyone that might fall.
“Sure, Pretty Bird,” Jason replied as he followed Dick to the back of the room. Dick opened his bag and chalked up his hands.
“It’s not as impressive with one person,” Dick told him. “The hoop or the silks are more for one person than this is.”
Jason was quiet as Dick climbed the ladder. It may not be as interesting, but as Dick gripped the bar and swung out into the air, it became clear to Jason that he was born there. Dick swung out and alternated between holding the bar with his hands and his knees. He moved to the second bar with ease, grabbing onto it and doing the same movements around it before going back to the original bar with a few flips.
Jason watched as Dick swing through the air like it was as easy as swimming and he clapped when Dick landed on the platform with a flip and barely a sound. He climbed down the ladder and when he reached the bottom, Jason handed him a water bottle.
“See,” Dick said, hair mussed from the wind and a grin on his face. “Not that impressive.”
“It was beautiful,” Jason told him. “And even if it wasn’t, the look on your face is so stunning, I want to come here with you every week so I can see it.”
Dick laughed and gave Jason a gentle nudge with his foot, but Jason saw the blush coloring his cheeks. Jason kissed it, because he could, and Dick kissed him back before he pulled away.
“Come on, I’ll show you the silks so you’ll know what an impressive performance looks like.”
Jason followed behind Dick and looked at the sway of his hips. “I’m impressed already.”
He caught the water bottle Dick threw at him, and Dick had a smile on his face the entire time he did his silks routine.