#i have an easel/stand for it coming in that should Help but for now idk look at this. get a load of them

[skyrem]

i dont do a lot of art for Darkwater, my urban fantasy-esque orginal project, but here's a doodle i made on a whim of my main character, Aspen! they're a dog groomer who hits a werewolf with their car and then falls in love with him i guess ♥

[ghostbeam]

1.5k, charcoal artist!dabi (again I’m so sorry), mentions of alcohol, dabi and reader are awkward, idk what this is but I kept it under 2k and that is a win for me

It’s been two weeks.

You haven’t seen him by your tree since then, but you haven’t taken him up on his offer and showed up at his place. You transferred the address from the pen on your skin to a scrap piece of paper and hung in on your fridge before you could lose it forever after washing your hands.

It would be weird to show up without calling, only you can’t call him because you don’t have his number. You don’t have classes in the same building, and you think it would be even weirder to walk around the art department to find him instead of just knocking on his door, like he asked you to. 

So, you do end up at his front door, double checking the address with the numbers outside, because Dabi seems to live in some kind of warehouse, and you would assume he wrote down the wrong address if it didn’t make complete sense in your mind that he lived here. You decided on a Friday night, because you assumed a guy like him would be out, and the thought of him answering his door right now is mortifying. 

But he does answer it, and his hair is sticking out in different directions even worse than before, and he’s yawning into his fist, and you’re realizing you’ve just woke him up. 

It stuns him a little, to see you. You’re cute all bundled up from the chilly night out, chin tucked into your scarf as you let your eyes fall over his form. 

“I didn’t think you’d come.” He tells you, leaning against his door frame, voice heavy with sleep. “Figured you thought it was weird that I gave you my address.”

“It was weird.” You nodded, shivering a bit from the cold. “Can I come in?”

He opens the door wider and lets you through. It’s mostly dark inside, one lamp in a far corner illuminating just a little bit of the room. He mutters a sorry as he passes by you, turning on lights overhead, half of the lightbulbs needing to be changed and not helping to illuminate the place much at all. 

“It’s usually brighter during the day.” He shrugs, turning back towards you. “The windows.”

He gestures behind him and you notice the large panels of glass against both walls. It must be nice in the day, all of the natural light, especially for an artist. 

You continue to look around. It’s mostly one giant room with ceilings as tall as the sky. There’s a small kitchen on the right side of the place, art that you assume isn’t his hung on the refrigerator, handmade mugs hanging on a rack by the sink, boxes of sugary cereal on the wooden island you think maybe he or someone else built.

There’s a bathtub to the left, just out in the middle of everything. It’s strange, and completely out of place, but looking at it gives you some sort of weird vision of the future in your mind. Reading in it, leaning back against Dabi and falling asleep, him peering over the edge and kissing you goodbye. A fond smile crosses your face.

Easels, and standing desks, and giant canvases full of abstract paint fill the rest of the room. A tarp on the floor in the middle of everything is covered with charcoal and red paint, pages and pages of unfinished sketches. Paperbacks lay on tables, stacked up against walls, three on his bedside table, all with bookmarks inside, unfinished.

“It’s a mess, I know.” He shrugs. “I kept it nice for a while, you know, in case you came, but then I kind of figured you never would. But you did.”

There’s something guarded about him this time, less open than he was when you met him on the grass. You can understand it. After all, you’re intruding. He was asleep. You should go home. 

“Maybe I should go home. It’s probably a bad time. It’s late, and—” You feel his hand wrap around your wrist, stoping your nervous ramble.

“Stay. Please, I want you to stay.” He tells you, and you can see that bit of vulnerability shine through, a little bit in his eyes. You nod, unable to look away from him. “You want something to drink?”

You don’t trust your voice, so all you do is nod, and when Dabi disappears into his tiny kitchen, you walk further into the room, entranced by his art. You wish you knew more about it, then, that you had something to compare it to, though you think maybe there’s nothing like what he does. 

He brings back a bottle of beer, and you take a long gulp because you suddenly feel hot alone with Dabi in his space. He chuckles under his breath and tugs on your arm.

“You wanna take this off?” He asks you, tugging on your scarf. You hand him your beer and take your scarf and coat off, letting him take them from you and laying them across his bed. He walks to one of the desks in the room, pulling the spiral sketchbook from the day before and a portfolio with handles from behind the desk. He hands you the book and drops the portfolio heavy on the floor. 

“Here.” He tells you, rubbing his palms on the sides of his pants out of what you think is nerves. “It’s obviously not everything, but you can start here, I guess. Or stop there, too. If you get sick of it.”

You say nothing, but you move to sit on the floor, opening the spiral sketchbook. It’s not all pretty or refined or finished. It’s a hand and an eye and the face of a friend and a tree and a body of water. It’s all scribbled and jagged, and there’s bits that are smooth, smudged over and shaded in a way that makes you feel like if you touched it, it would feel like skin. There’s splotches of red and yellow, blues and greens, a random water color on one page, ink on the next. 

And when you get close to the end, it’s all you. 

It’s not much, but it’s more than you expected. There’s no more mistakes here, nothing unfinished or crossed out or scribbled over. He’s careful about it. You’re speechless. 

You pull the portfolio into your lap and open the flap. Pages of all varying sizes and textures are stuffed inside. These pieces are much more refined. He’s worked on them for longer, maybe for a class. He has an unbelievable eye for the human body, how it bends and folds. You hate to think about how these are hidden away behind his desk. You’d put them up around the city, and on bulletin boards in cafe’s, and over every inch of your walls in your own apartment.

It makes you feel a little bit emotional, here on his floor with his soul in your hands. There’s this urge you have, to hug him, to push his hair from his eyes, to kiss his hands. You hold one page in between your fingers, the torso of a man and his arms around a woman, her head lying back against his chest. You stand up, and you look at him with your watery eyes, and you turn to walk away. 

You swing a leg over the weird, out in the open bath tub, and settle down inside, looking down at the piece you took. Dabi’s footsteps are slow as he approaches you, crouches down next to the tub and rests his forearms on it.

“You can have that one.” He says, resting his chin against his arm. “Or any of them. Tell me, and it’s yours.”

You don’t know how to tell him you want it all. Selfishly, you’d take every single piece if he gave them to you. 

You look at him, thumbing the corner of the page, yours now. You keep opening and closing your mouth like you want to speak. You want to tell him thank you, and you probably should if he’s really letting you keep it, but it’s more than that. Thank you for letting me see you. I have nothing like this that can show you the inside of my soul, but you can reach through my ribs if you want to.

His hand comes up to rest behind your head, the brush of his thumb against your neck, tender. You lean into it and close your eyes. When you open them, he’s much closer now, so close that leaning forward makes you bump noses. He smiles. 

“Will you stay?” It’s not a question of just to night, but forever, you think. Or at least that’s how it feels to you. You nod. 

“God, yes.” You answer, like you’ve been waiting for him to ask, like you’re whole life has led up to this moment in this empty bathtub. He brushes his lips against yours like he’s asking permission. You give him the slightest nod. 

He kisses you. 

[ilovehimyourhonour]

the art of coffee 005.5 : you should have minded your business (written) . previous ! next !

park j. jongseong x fem! reader . university au , written chapter . reader is anxious , shy/awkward jay tehehe .

a/n mmm idk exactly how I feel about this one , but kinda thought we should see shy/awkward jay 🤭

taglist open !

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the knowledge of jay park’s whereabouts in this particular moment was definitely effecting you mentally, and the classmate seated next to you would say you were definitely being effected physically as well. your hands shook as you attempted to bring the paintbrush to your canvas, your sneaker tapped gently against the tiled floors, and your top teeth now sunk into your bottom lip.

“I cant do this,” you mutter beneath your breath, dropping the paintbrush into the little cup of water next to your tray of paints.

“are you alright?” the girl next to you questions, you muster what little calm you posses and give her a weak smile—she isn’t fooled but she doesnt press on. giving you a weary glance before turning back to the canvas sat along her own easel.

you take a deep breath, then another, and then another. your hands glide up and down your thighs, an attempt to calm your nerves. willing your anxiety to come back down to earth, for at least a moment—you’d beg for just a second of peace. why are you getting so worked up about this? and where was jungwon?

it had been a little over a week now, jay hasn’t done anything to effect your social status, honestly you’ve barely heard or seen jay throughout the campus over the last several days. its all in your head. he probably doesn’t even remember you. youre just some clumsy girl who ruined his shirt. you mean nothing to him. everything’s gonna be fine.

“has she been like this all day?” jungwon’s volume brings you back to reality, he stands next to the girl who was most likely questioning your sanity. “what’s got your pretty head in the clouds?” he hums, you sigh and push yourself up from your stool. taking the lead, you direct the two of you towards a table along the back of the room.

“is he still out there?” you whisper as you pass by a window, not daring to peek out.

“this is what’s got you so worked up?”

“is he?”

“yeah,” he frowns, setting the paper bag onto the table. “hes just out there sitting on the front steps, it looks like hes waiting for something.” jungwon reaches into the bag and begins unloading the boxes of food. “but lets not worry about it, im sure he’s just waiting for this weeks hookup.” jungwon turns to you with his brightest grin, and you cant help but let your own smile peak through—he was just too cute.

the two of you settle into your chairs, separate your chopsticks, and dig in. jungwon mumbles about something that happened earlier in one of his classes, the food stuffed into his mouth making it hard to understand what he was saying—but you simply nodded, trying to catch as much information as you could.

“I just cant believe she would say that, you know?” you hum and turned back to your food. “oh lord,” jungwon whispers. you glance up at him, assuming he dropped food onto his white shirt, but he is staring straight past you.

“what?” you frown, turning to face the same direction he was.

you should have never looked, you should have minded your business and continued eating.

jay park stands near the entrance, along with one of his minions and a boy thats very unfamiliar. the taller, older boy meets your gaze, and he smiles softly—taking a few steps in your direction in the process.

“hi,” he says. “um, one of the theatre teachers sent us to check on the props,” he rubs his hands together—almost as if he’s nervous.

“oh, um,” you glance past him. jay still stands by the door, his gaze focused on the ground. “I didn’t work on them,” you chuckle awkwardly as you rise from your seat. “but,” you turn to where your classmate had been sitting, only to see her space empty. “oh, she left.”

“its okay, we can come back later.” the younger boy smiles, taking a step forward.

“I think that would be best,” you sigh. “im sorry I couldn’t be more help.”

“oh no, its all good. thank you,” you smile as the two boys retreat back towards jay—who stands with his back turned attention lingering on the wall of past projects, his fingers gently trace a drawing tacked to the wall.

a drawing made by you…

@heeseungsim @thekinkpopstandsforkrackheads @yizhoutv

© ilovehimyourhonour

[you-get-to-exhale-now-cyrus]

can you PLEASE do us all a favor and write a soft ass wonah fic/oneshot??? they deserve way more content and honestly i'd read that shit everyday nO JOKE

((you mcfreaking bet i can! this was so fun to write sdkjfs))

“So, you’re the artist?”

Jonah took a seat on the bench near Walker and his supplies. Out of all the people he’d expected to see at his sister’s birthday party, Walker was not one of them. Maybe he was a more popular artist in Shadyside than Jonah realized.

“Jonah, right?” Walker asked, setting out his charcoals of varying densities and a few erasers. Beside his easel, he had a small stack of papers, cut to size.

“Yeah! I didn’t think I’d be seeing you here,” Jonah admitted, picking at the chipped green paint on the bench, “not like, I didn’t think I’d ever see you again, but like…I guess you’re a much more popular artist than I thought,”

If Jonah hadn’t had his gaze so intently focused on the ground, he would have noticed a light blush creeping up Walker’s neck. But just Jonah’s luck, he missed it.

“Do you mind if I draw you? I think the bouncy castle is taking the attention away from me,” Walker chuckled, placing a piece of paper against the board on his easel and a piece of vine charcoal between his fingers.

“Oh, sure,” Jonah fumbled, trying to find a pose. He tried crossing his legs and placing his hands in his lap, but that just looked like an awkward school photo.

“Relax, dude. Just..let’s have a conversation. You don’t have to stay frozen in one position. I can draw you pretty well from you just being here,” the other boy supplied, lightly sketching the outline of a face.

Jonah nodded, still fumbling with what to do with his hands because he’d be damned if they weren’t doing something. Opting for picking at the remnants of purple nail polish that lived on his ring finger, he tried to start a conversation.

“So…do you come here often?”

Walker snorted, smudging a little bit of the ears, but he was able to fix it quickly. “Quite a pick up line, dude,” he chuckled, making Jonah blush deeply, his lips curling into an impish smile.

“But in all seriousness, I don’t come here often enough,” he admitted, studying Jonah intensely for a few seconds before reverting his attention to his array of charcoals, “The occasional birthday party, a school field trip…a date,” he added softer, his lips quirking into a small smile.

Date. Jonah’s face fell, but he tried not to let it show when Walker was looking at him. He could study the boy’s brown eyes for hours, probably finding more and more beauty with each passing moment. But Walker would probably think that was weird, so he kept quiet.

“Oh, yeah. Dates. How’s Buffy?” Jonah asked, swinging his legs over the bar on the bench. Walker would never have told him that the way the light hit him made him look like an angel, instead smiling to himself.

“You haven’t heard? We broke up,” he stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Oh, shoot sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up a sore subject,” Jonah apologized quickly, mentally scolding himself.

“Don’t worry about it,” Walker met the boy’s gaze, and for a second, Jonah thought that something was about to change, “sorry I’m staring. I wanna get your eyes right,” he explained, his attention once again returning to the easel.

“The break-up was mutual. It was just creating so much extra drama with Andi, and I think we’re all happier now.” A short pause followed, during which Walker tried to get Jonah to talk a little more.

“What been going on with you? I hear you’re still writing music,” the boy asked, switching over to his eraser to fix some highlights.

“Yeah. I’m actually trying to work on this one about this…person,” he edited his speech, but he couldn’t help but smile, “and I don’t know whether or not I’ll perform it, but I just wanna have it, you know?” He sighed happily, his nose crinkling up from his smile.

“It’s the same way with visual arts,” Walker agreed, “sometimes I’ll draw portraits of people and I have no intention of showing them to anyone. I actually have a pile of them sitting in a drawer in my room. I still look at them from time to time, but they’re mostly hidden.” Another pause.

“You must think that’s pretty lame,” he added, smiling weakly at the boy on the bench.

“Of course not,” Jonah assured him, his smile showing off the dimples that were craters in his cheeks, “I have songs I’ve recorded on my phone that I sometimes listen to when I get the chance, but nobody else has heard them,” he admitted, chewing on his lower lip, “I can…do you wanna hear one?”

“Oh, you don’t have to, really,” Walker assured him, adding the final touches to the drawing. Without Jonah noticing, he scribbled something in the bottom right corner, and then turned his attention to Jonah, who was holding out a pair of headphones.

“I want to,” he promised, scrolling through his video album and selecting one. He was internally cringing at the lyrics, but apparently, Walker found them endearing, grinning throughout the whole performance. Somewhere during the performance, Jonah stopped paying attention to his singing and started focusing on how close he and Walker were; sharing headphones kinda did that. Andi was right; he did look cuter up close.

Walker must have caught him staring because the next thing he knew, he was being jostled by the boy.

“Earth to Jonah!”

Jonah blinked a few times. “Oh, sorry. I just got…distracted,” he admitted, and both boys were definitely blushing at this point. In the distance, a few kids, along with their parents, were wandering over to Walker’s stand.

“I should…probably get going. You have company coming,” Jonah smiled, taking the headphones, along with his phone, and shoving them into his pocket.

“Wait!” Walker said, grabbing the drawing off of the the easel and rolling it up, “keep it,”

Jonah could not control the smile that made its way onto his face. “Thank you,” he murmured, graciously.

“I have to get to these kids but…maybe I can show you some of my art someday?” he offered, rocking back on his heels.

“I’d love to,” Jonah beamed, giving the other boy a polite wave and following the path back towards where the leftover cake was. He stopped for a moment, glancing back at Walker, who was definitely in his zone. Smiling, he took his drawing and unfolded it. He could not have been more blown away when he saw the masterpiece.

It was a drawing of him, obviously, but it was so…magical. The way that the light hit his face, the small crinkles by his eyes, the way that Walker had drawn his smile, it was all so beautiful. He looked genuinely happy. As he was about to put it away, he noticed a much harsher scribble in one of the corners. Walker had written his phone number and a little winky emoji.

Smirking, Jonah pulled his phone out of his pocket and added Walker to his contact list. Before he left to get cake, he sent Walker a quick text.

[Walker The Smooth Talker: so…you’re the artist]

tag list: @shortstackofpeaches || @seanna313 || @geekingbeautytx || @heavenlybyers || @ghostswasp || @wlwandimack || @giocondasstuff || @lemonboytyrus || @adorejrizzle || @swingsetboys || @ifellintotyrushell || @idk-dude-17 || @rbf-lesbian ||​ @marianara-sauce || @kaptainjinxz || @alex-poster-pizz

[xkyl0-ren]

I had a nightmare last night and I think it’s because I spend a lot of time on /r/nosleep in my spare time. Yikes.

So I was at a bar. And it was a collection of all my ex boyfriends/crushes/flings and the girls they ended up with or cheated with mixed in with randos. Kevin had just broken up with me so I was getting drunk and whatever. (This is probably because two of my best friends just broke up yesterday and I spend my whole evening talking about it)

Some important guests include:

BiggestCrushEverWhoHasAChildAndADrinkingProblemNow

SluttyHSFriend #1

JewishGuyWhoJustWantedToUseMeToPissOffHisRoommateWhoLikedMe (Dumped me for SluttyHSFriend #2)

SluttyHSFriend#2

CheatingScumbagWasteOf3Years (Accompanied by a handful of the women he cheated with and his current GF who he still cheats on)

LongtermExBoyfriendWhoIReallyFuckedUp 

UglyGuyIHadAThreesomeWithAndNowIt’sWeird

So first there’s BiggestCrushEverWhoHasAChildAndADrinkingProblemNow and he’s standing at the top of this ramp to the outer area of the club. The inner square is the bar, then the area where people can sit/stand, and then the outermost square level is a dance floor. So he’s at the top and I walk up to him and he’s on his cell phone (the one he had in 2009 when we met... wtf brain???) and he’s standing next to SluttyHSFriend #1 (my friend in HS that ended up fucking him behind my back) and I’m already mad about it. So we’re talking and catching up and it’s pretty nice. Then she grabs his phone and is giggling and laughing and being a flirty idiot and whatever. And I was literally in the middle of talking to him so it really set me off. (remember, I’m already mad about Kevin dumping me.. Not that I need to justify my freaky dream anger issues but whatever.) So I grab the 2008 phone and push her off the railing before smashing it on the ground and shouting at him that “SOME THINGS NEVER FUCKING CHANGE DO THEY????” and stomping towards the back door. 

On the way out I see LongtermExBoyfriendWhoIReallyFuckedUp and he looks at me like I’m fucking crazy (because at this point, I am, and he’s seen what I’ve done in the past, so it was probably just generally upsetting and my dream is making it very apparent because I still feel guilty for cheating on him and basically crushing his soul because I was confused about what i wanted and generally immature) and asks where I‘m going. So then I burst into tears and tell him he shouldn’t be nice to me or care what I do, and I leave out into the rain. (Dramatic, right? I should write for Degrassi. I promise I’d never do this shit in real life)

So I’m in a back alley and walking at a moderately quick pace. For some reason I go into this door and it’s a stairwell. I’m talking huge. It’s a square all around and the center just drops. I get spooked over heights so I didn’t bother looking over the edge. I walk up the stairs for a while until I see a door. I go into it and I’m in an empty swimming pool with easels everywhere. Paint and smocks etc on the floor. The deep end of the pool has a mural painted on it of a swimming pool. What the fuck. I don’t know.

So I look around, it’s weird, so I leave. At the door when I open it is a woman with Julia Roberts-esque curly blonde hair. She’s wearing a smock and looks pretty fucking crazy. She asks me if I felt a breeze. “It’s not cold for long. Just breezes. When she’s around.”  WHAT THE FUCK AGAIN. So for some reason, Dream Aly that is literally in the dream doesn’t seem scared. But Dream Aly that is really me in my head watching the dream is fucking terrified. I don’t know how there were two of me in my brain but there were. Brains are fucking weird.

So I walk out and things are weird. There’s a dresser, and a bed. The only thing is that the bed is suspended in the middle of the stairwell that is a super long drop. It’s held up by piles of pool ladders coming from each of the 4 sides of the stairwell. They are stacked and then meet in the middle, and the bed is there. For some reason I want to get in the bed and go to sleep. There’s a little dog laying on the bed. What the fuck is wrong with me. Whatever. So.

I climb up onto the rail of the stairs and am holding on for dear life. I put my cell phone in my bra and brace myself on this pole and keep stretching my leg over towards the bed to see if I can reach. The woman is back again and she’s standing beneath me telling me to go. Just do it. She’s wearing a pink outfit with a lacey white top. “You’re wearing different clothes...” and she just smiles. So at this point in my brain I know she’s a fucking ghost and once again battle of my brain, Dream Aly is still chill AF and getting on the bed and I’m watching and flipping out. I’m hesitating a little but am about to get on the bed. I jump and somehow land on it and fucking feel it sway and dip a little bit. Really not a fun time. 

The woman then appears on the effing bed with me.”I knew you’d make it.” She’s creepy as hell now and basically scaring the shit out of me. She starts talking about art and how we can be friends and go swimming and all this crazy shit. Dream Aly is finally catching on and I check my pockets for my phone and can’t find it. (Because it’s in your bra, asshole. Audience Aly is yelling and Dream Aly is just like ?????) how the fuck do I get off this weird bed hanging in a stairwell by old pool ladders? Why is my brain so fucked up???

So I’m listening to her talk and she’s staring at me really intently. She reaches towards me and I slide backwards on the bed, trying to think. I jump off the fucking bed onto the stairwell again and pull out my phone and call  LongtermExBoyfriendWhoIReallyFuckedUp and ask him for help. He asks where I am and for some reason I give the exact address? The woman SCREAMS so freaking loud and I see her in the mirror of the dresser and she’s turning grey and old probably into a ghost IDK i didn’t write this shitty story so don’t bother me about it!!!

So she’s hollering about my betraying her and saying I should have known better whatever and then I look at the couch next to her dresser and my friend Ryan is DEAD!!! AND HIS FACE IS PAINTED LIKE A MIME OR A CLOWN OR SOMETHING AND I SCREAM AND IT was horrible and I woke up.  LongtermExBoyfriendWhoIReallyFuckedUp never saved me so who’s the guilty one now huh??? jk but seriously 

how am i going to sleep alone ib my house for a week while kevin’s away in Minneapolis fuck my life

fin