𝖌𝖎𝖗𝖑 𝖔𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖗𝖚𝖓

where: parton festival, heart+sleeve booth

when: 11pm

 He’d finished his official shift at the booth Heart + Sleeve had set up for Parton Fest, but hadn’t quite escaped the small, tented area just yet. It was probably his fault for falling still and leaving her unattended while he worked on entering a few of the appointments he’d scheduled onto his phone’s calendar. There was an official system back at the shop, but Theo wanted his own reminders on a few of the bigger pieces he’d need to sketch out before hand. The booth had stocked up on a few temporary tattoo pens, and as soon as he felt the tip of one hit the back of his left arm, a rare, empty bit of canvas, he’d frozen.

 “Swear to god, Noa,” Theo said, although they both knew the threat came without venom, “If you draw a dick on me, I’m never carrying you home again, I don’t care if you lose your shoes.”

a  groan  follows  suit  as  the  SHUDDERING  of  the  camera  is  made  audible  &  noa’s  gaze  shifted  upward.  ❝  you  better  not  fuckin’  post  that.  ❞  this  certainly  wasn’t  one  of  her  finest  moments  —  crossed  nearly  out  of  her  mind,  and  generally  DISARRAYED  after  a  day  of  enjoying  the  festivities.  she’d  certainly  have  hell  to  pay  with  the  hangover  she’d  be  suffering  the  morning  after. ❝  what  can  i  say  ?  i’m  a  woman  of  many  talents.  ❞  lips  press  into  a cheshire  grin,  teeth  sinking  into  cherry-chapsticked  lips  for  a  moment.  ❝  depends  on  your  DEFINITION  of  the  word  . . .  ❞  noa  started  up,  a  cheeky  look  sprawling  across  her  visage  with  brows  raised  on  her  forehead.  ❝  are  we  talkin’  ‘sparking  a  joint  backstage’  fun  or  ‘throwing  up  strawberry  cheesecake  funnel  cake  after  too  many  bouts  on  the  ferris  wheel’  fun  ?  because  if  we’re  talking  about  the  former  —  i  might  have  just  the  thing  for  you.  ❞

LOCATION: Parton Festival, Medical Tent. 

Dark wash jeans with the hems tucked into Timberland boots, and a bright coloured Henley that was slapped with the festival’s logo on the front and the word ‘VOLUNTEER’ on the back; the outfit was different from the usual scrubs he wore at Parton General, but he couldn’t complain. He was dressed for the for the weather, after all, and was prepared to spend the whole day at the medical tent. 

It was only a matter of time before the tent was flooded with the festival’s attendees who needed medical attention, and Jake was treating anything from the occasional injuries, allergic reactions to the foods being served, the effects of alcohol consumption, and even dehydration. All expected during an event like this. 

❝  JAY  !  ❞  noa  beamed  at  the  sight  of  him,  ❝  just  wanted  to  pop  in  to  say  hi  &  see  how  things  are  going  for  ya’.  ❞  for  a  moment,  she  felt  as  if  she  had  been  transported  onto  the  set  of  m*a*s*h,  camera  straying  from  one  end  of  the  bustling  medical  unit  filled  with  meager  cases  of  dehydration,  and  minor  cuts  &  bruises.  ❝  oh,  and  i  come  bearing  GIFTS,  ❞  two immaculately  plastic-wrapped  lemon  bars  are  retrieved  from  the  daypack  slung  from  her  shoulders.  ❝  i  got  you  these,  there  were  originally  three  but  i  may  or  may  not  have  eaten  one  —  which  was  really  good  by  the  way.  ❞  polish-chipped  digits  gesture  the  gift  over  to  jacob.  

where: parton festival, heart+sleeve booth

when: 11pm

 He’d finished his official shift at the booth Heart + Sleeve had set up for Parton Fest, but hadn’t quite escaped the small, tented area just yet. It was probably his fault for falling still and leaving her unattended while he worked on entering a few of the appointments he’d scheduled onto his phone’s calendar. There was an official system back at the shop, but Theo wanted his own reminders on a few of the bigger pieces he’d need to sketch out before hand. The booth had stocked up on a few temporary tattoo pens, and as soon as he felt the tip of one hit the back of his left arm, a rare, empty bit of canvas, he’d frozen.

 “Swear to god, Noa,” Theo said, although they both knew the threat came without venom, “If you draw a dick on me, I’m never carrying you home again, I don’t care if you lose your shoes.”

her  day  was  spent  MINDLESSLY  dancing  against  stranger’s  she’d  likely  never  cross  again  &  sipping  on  nauseatingly  sweet  cocktails  that  noa  was  convinced  she  could  recreate  ten  times  better  blindfolded.  meanwhile,  theo  had  been  busied  with  work,  that  of  which  noa  had  popped  into  the  tent  to  check  in  on  the  tattoos  every  now  and  then  —  at  least  from  what  she  told  theo.  in  all  REALITY,  noa  had  been  using  her  frequenting  in  and  out  of  the  tented  area  as  a  momentary  sheath  from  the  sun  &  to  rest  her  tired  feet  throughout  the  day.   ❝  WOAH,  ❞  southern  rasped  voice  piqued  from  her  seat  atop  of  one  of  the  few  swivel  stools  she  managed  to  snag  from  the  other  tattoo  artists.  ❝  are  you  seriously  trying  to  limit  my  artistic  expression,  right  now  ?  that’s  like  artist  on  artist  crime.  ❞  an  attempt  made  in  vain,  the  evidently  inebriated  woman  stifled  a  laugh.  tattoo  pen  in  hand,  noa  STALLED  over  a  moment  of  contemplation  before  finally  agreeing.  especially  considering  she’d  in  fact  already  lost  one  of  her  shoes  and  definitely  was  going  to  need  a  ride  home.  ❝  suit  yourself,  but  i  fear  this  outcome  may  have  been  worse  than  a  dick.  ❞  said  outcome  had  taken  the  poorly  misshapen  form  of  a  cat  in  a  pool  float.  ❝  go  take  a  look  —  tell  me  what  you  think  of  my  artistic  genius.  ❞