#god!

[apocryphics]

but! we! cannot! simply! sit! and! stare! at! our! wounds! forever!

[siomaoart]

loser who loves his wife 🙄

[maningning]

read this and started screeching

[ghostbeam]

charcoal artist!dabi x reader, first meeting, takes place before the other drabbles, he is a bit of a creep, his feelings sort of boarder on obsession, dabi is taller than you, suggestive language at the very end but it’s barely anything

He’s staring at you.

Eye’s flickering in between you and the spiral sketchbook in his lap. Concentrated, eyebrows furrowed, hand flying furiously across the page. You aren’t sure how you hadn’t noticed him before with his dark hair sticking in all different directions, black boots heavy on the grass, sapphire eyes piercing, lost in you, in the page. No one’s ever looked at you like this, you think. 

You’re trying to be discreet, looking back down at your book when you see his eyes rise from the page. You’re not retaining a single bit of information as you’re suddenly focused on what he might think of you, how much of you he’s noticed, if you’re sitting weird, if your face looks wrong while reading. You think he’s cute, pretty, almost delicate, all eyelashes. 

You turn the page, not having read the previous one, and then look back up at him. Except this time, your eyes meet. Your breath hitches. It’s a little bit electrifying, paralyzed by his stare like you’re the one who got caught instead of the other way around.

Dabi feels his jaw fall open slightly at the sight of you, staring straight at him. Had you seen him? Did you know? He watches you close your book, not even checking to mark your place. You stand up, still looking at him. Dabi feels his heart drop to his stomach. You’ll call him a creep. You’ll run away. 

“Can I see?” He doesn’t know how he hadn’t noticed you getting closer. You’re all he can focus on, but you’ve surprised him. Can I see? Dabi thinks about the first time he saw you, right under that same tree, some text book bigger than his body sat in your lap. He felt the breath knocked out of him like some lovesick sap, not like himself. He didn’t even know you, but god, he wished for you. He did, like some idiot standing in the middle of the walkway closing his eyes and wishing on nothing, wishing on, well, you. 

Standing in front of him now, he sees now more than he ever has before that you’re every piece of art he’s ever loved all wrapped up in one. One portrait of you would be enough to satisfy him for a life time.

Only that’s not true, because he hasn’t been able to stop drawing you. It’s not enough, to sit across from you and capture your likeness in strokes of black charcoal. Over and over and over again, your cheeks, and your hair, and your lips in a pout, and your eyebrows all pinched. He can’t get enough. It’s almost miserable, except it’s heaven. 

And now here you are, standing over him and looking at him expectantly. Part of him wants to hide it away, keep it for himself, but that’s not fair because it’s you. It really belongs to you, should be yours, but Dabi is nothing if not a little possessive. 

Standing this close to him, you can see all of him, the pink puckered skin that spreads over him in various spots, the bit of black around his fingertips, the sun shining in his eyes. God, his eyes are blue. Could that color ever be mixed, replicated, brushed onto a canvas and still make you feel the way looking into his eyes right now does? You don’t think it could, and you don’t see the point in asking the man who works with charcoal before you. 

“It’s me, right? You’ve been, um, looking over there, so I thought…” You speak, suddenly afraid that it wasn’t you he was focused on. The thought of him being lost in the scenery on the campus behind you suddenly makes more sense than him paying so much attention to you, but there’s no mistaking that his eyes were on you the last time you looked up. 

“It’s you.” He manages to speak, suddenly very conscious of the rasp in his own voice. “You—I’ve seen you sitting there. Couldn’t help myself I guess.”

It’s one way to explain it, definitely less creepy than the fact that he saw you and felt like he might die unless he could put you to paper. 

You hold your hand out, a little impatient, more out of excitement and a little nervousness than anything else. He stands up, and your struck with the fact that he’s much taller than you. He places the sketchpad in your hand, and you force yourself to look away from his face.

You fill the page, almost every blank space filled with your face in different expressions and your body sat in different positions. He had to have been sitting there for much longer than you though to have been able to draw all of these. It’s all you, but it’s him, this piece of him that he’s allowing you to look at, take a peak inside. You want to see more. You want all of him. You want to take and take and take, and not because he has you trapped in his pages, but because it’s not enough to know him through just these strokes and smudges. Even if he lets you keep this, you’ll look at it every day, this piece of his soul, and wish it was the real thing.

It’s the same way he’s felt about you for the past couple of days. 

“Do you have more?” You ask him, a little breathless. 

“Of you?” He asks, but he thinks that it was probably stupid of him to say. He feels exposed, but by his own words and the way you look at both the page and him like your seeing him in a way no one ever has before. 

“Anything.” You shake your head. “All of it. I want to see it all, you—you’re very talented.”

You clear your throat awkwardly, the excitement, the desperation beginning to feel embarrassing. The stunned look on his face makes you feel self conscious, and maybe you should just walk away or leave him alone. 

But he wants to show you everything. 

He writes his address across your palm with a pen he’s pulled from his back pocket. He has classes during the day on Mondays and Wednesdays, but he tells you that you can come by any other time. It’s strange, you think, for him to give you his address instead of his number. It feels fast, and stupid, to meet him at his place without knowing anything but his name. (Dabi. A name that feels like it was meant to fall from your lips, and he would agree). 

But he’s ripped out the page, placed it in your palms, and told you he’ll see you later, like he’s always known you. It’s not enough, to look at your face made from his hands in lines across a page. You want to feel them on you, over your skin, grabbing and taking, your want and his. With a piece of his heart in your hands, you decide that no matter how stupid, or fast, or intense it might be, you’ll go to him.

[sashayed]

MAN: The first time I had the opportunity of reading your book, "Another Country," I believe—and this was quite some time ago. But that was the first book I ever read from cover to cover. And I haven't read another since. And—really!—and I still remember the characters and everything, and this really did a lot for me, you know? JAMES BALDWIN: I know that from my own point of view, it was—it was, in a sense, all for you. Do you know? I know that I love you, but you haven't necessarily got to know that. And I suppose I never thought that I would live to hear you say that you love me. That sounds very corny, but—[laughter]—but you know what I mean.

Meeting the Man: James Baldwin in Paris

[blacksailsgf]

the way they need to peel the years between them with teeth

[girlgerard]

gerard letting the crowd sing the main power belt during the climactic moment of famous last words while they sing the backing vocals. this is the best band in the world and we are so lucky

[pactw]

when jaiden went home and was alone for the first time today, she broke down crying and yelled "fuck, dude! what do i do?" while staring at the sunset to remember her son.

in other news, i'm going to walk into the sea to never return.

[drivestraight]

can we talk about max’s stupid 83.33% pole -> win conversion rate. the next closest in % are emerson fittipaldi (66.67%, 4 wins from pole), ascari alberto (64.29%, 9 wins from pole), and fernando alonso (63.64%, 14 wins from pole).

max has 30 wins from pole 😭

[seance]

Do none of you heartless bastards care about our murdered moms?

[wormswurld]

hahahahahahahahhh felix with fem!ollie HAHAHHAHABAHAHAH IM SO NORMAL HAHAHAHAHA this is literally felix’s song. i can’t i can’t i can’t i can’t i cant this is cattonquick..you guys.

[smolycule]

spencer thinks he’s ME

[beauxjangles]

literally forgot how obsessed I am with garashir its keeping me awake

[devil-worship]

lisa frankenstein i love you

[spicechica]

Ernst Robinson x fem reader AU

*this idea has been in my head for a while, ever since I re-watched barbie as the island princess. But, imagine Ernst having a relationship with an island girl and slowly falling for her*

You peaked through the damp forest trees, watching below as you spotted two cuertin creatures that walked and talked, like you. You slowly move up the tree branches, causing the leaves to russell. “Did you hear that?” You stop in place thinking they spotted you, until you hear the loud echoes of crunching twigs and low grunts coming from the bushes below. The two step closer towards the rustling sounds, until it stops…..”Run!” The loud grunt of a large boar emerges from the bushes, charging after the two. 

You quickly follow behind, still staying out of sight, watching as they both struggle to climb up a nearby tree, the boar almost nipping at their feet. You pierce your lips together and blow in the boar's direction, causing it to startle and run away into the large bushes, allowing the creatures to catch their breaths.

“Who’s there?”, one of them shouts. “Please, we're looking for our brother. We got shipwrecked and now we're stuck here…please help us!” You sigh and slowly emerge from the tree, lightly landing your bare feet on the cold wet ground. Not like you haven't gotten used to it by now, your feet were already covered in dirt, bruises, cuts, grime, and any other part of the forest you've explored that day. 

You keep your hand on your pocket sized knife you made from rock and yarn, not sure if you should trust these…People? “A girl.” A young boy, looked to be about 15, short messy hair, and now covered in dirt, slowly steps towards you, while you hesitantly take a step back. “It’s alright. We’re not going to hurt you. I’m Fritz…and this is my brother, Ernst.” You glance over at the other boy. He looked older, about 17 or so, taller, had slightly longer hair than the other, and had these piercing blue eyes. 

“Can you speak…English?” Fritz asked. You slowly nod, continuing to scan the boys up and down like a feral cat.“Could you help us? We're looking for…” As he tries to touch you, you quickly point your knife towards him, the tip barely piercing neck. “Wow…wow, wait…we're not looking for any trouble.”, Ernst said with a shaky voice. “We were in a shipwreck and…”, “Shipwreck?” you replied. “Yes, at the front of the island.” you remove your knife away from Fritz neck and look to the floor. 

It’s been years since you’ve seen another person, and from what he said reminded you how you got here in the first place. You sigh, “You said you needed help, right?”, they both nod. You didn’t know if you should trust these boys, but you had a gut feeling that something good might come out of this.

Both the boys stare at you as they proceed to lead the way, gazing at your unique attire. You wore an old white cloth that you wrapped around yourself and tucked into your sides. When you first washed up on the island you wore an old childs Victorian dress with ruffles all over, but over time the dress became damaged and mangled, and soon you started to grow out of it, to where you could barely fit it over your shoulders if you wanted to. Surprisingly, your hair was pretty neat and tidy, placed in a neat french braid ponytail tied back with vine . Of course, you had no shoes. as you grew out of those as well, so through the years you had just gotten used to being barefoot, and whatever you stepped on you’d just had to be lucky it wasn’t poisonous. “You think she’s from a previous shipwreck?” Ernst whispered. You couldn't properly remember the night of the wreck, but sometimes you could imagine bits and pieces here and there, but most of the time it was a haze. 

“Father! Mother!” Fritz shouted. “Fritz”, his mother called. “Where were you? You were supposed to stay on this side of the island!” His father shouts in a stern voice, his face almost turning red. “Yes, but father we found…a girl.”  They all look up at you, shocked to see a girl your age in this state, and surprisingly alive. “Oh my goodness.” Their mother takes her damp shawl and wraps it around you, trying to cover your body from the boys. You jolt away at first, confused why, you never really cared to notice the changes in your body, or even know what it was like to experience woman hood. So it was clear she was covering you so you would have some decency. “Where did you find her?”, “In the forest, she helped us get away from a boar,” “A boar!” their younger sister shouts. “Oh you poor thing. What’s your name sweetheart?” 

“My name is…is…Y/n.” 

PART 2!??

[lottiemilfews]

simone kessell as sasha clarke in wonderland (2013-2015) - 2x06 (2/3)