#I had fun drawing it and I have fun re-reading it frequently

[potpourrifandoms]

Gracie's Ridiculous T'au Comic, Part 1

So, I've posted little out-of-context bits and pieces of my T'au comic passion project on this blog before (here, here, and here, with character introductions and stuff here), and I thought that maybe I should post some in-context pages of the comic.

Please bear in mind that these were drawn about six years ago now (how time flies!!), and they're not as good as my more recent art. They're also extremely unpolished and not lore-accurate, but they make me laugh, so perhaps someone else out there will like them, too. This was also before I had much of the plot worked out, so I promise it gets better later on.

Anyway, without further ado...

there are like three sketchbooks of this if anybody wants more lmao

First (this is the first) | Next

[psicheanima]

i admire how much you love and understand Makima, even as someone completely outside of the csm fanbase i can tell you know her character very well! i really look up to you in the sense of being so deeply connected with a character you can draw and talk about them endlessly.

have you always loved her that much? or was it a more gradual thing? and in your opinion do you feel like it’s easier to instantly attach yourself to a character in such a way, or slowly learn to love them as you consume more of the media they’re in?

i hope that isn’t a weird question, i’d just love to hear your thoughts on the process! seeing people so enamored by a single character is really awesome :-)

Oh wow! I’m really honored you can think that way—- especially as someone who hasn’t even read Chainsaw Man? I find that very incredible. Since I most draw her, it’s interesting not only my work could still connect to you, but you can feel my love, as well.. ahh… it’s a good thing to be known for your love, and it makes my heart really warm. That’s how I want to be seen, so thank you.

I always liked Makima. However, I had other Chainsaw Man characters I was more entertained by (since I read as it released, being amused was the most important thing) But I started to love her when the control Devil arc released and we learned her true motivations. She became my favorite Chainsaw Man character. During that year gap after part 1 ended, my love for her grew, and she became one of my favorite characters of all time.

Because, it’s not just about the antagonist Fujimoto wrote. Her fan content frequently had Catholic imagery, and she was a mother. These are two “themes” that are INTENSLEY attractive to me, even back then (it’s increased since 2020!) and are tropes I push onto characters who don’t even fit it, so having it just there for me was incredibly fun. It felt like she was just for me! I didn’t really think too deeply about her past until the last chapter dropped. And then there was nothing. So I was alone with that.

I found myself really loving her in a way that I had only loved one character before (Kaworu Nagisa, and I’m sure the similarities don’t need to be explained in depth) They’re both characters who love humanity. I love humanity. I love people, and it’s tender. So being able to explore this in a character added to it. Then, as I grew up a bit more, I started exploring womanhood through her character. It was cathartic and also interesting for me, because it did not only aid me, but also helped re-contextualize everything about her, and I saw her in a new lens once again, where there were so many parts of her that I hadn’t even peaked in on.

There was a specific art I saw in about 2021 of Makima with her hair down, on her bed. She looks very lonely. It’s a set, and the other drawing is her greeting her dogs at the front of her apartment— night time. It’s really that artwork that dictated who Makima was to me. She was the type of woman who went home to an empty apartment that she paid for. As Part 2 grew separated from what I liked about the series, and as the anime brought in fans who saw her as a sexual object, and her status as a popular “dommy mommy” character cemented, I found myself attaching to her even more, because in a sea of people who didn’t seem to get her at all, I was always wanting to defend her concept. Not her personally. But what made her a “character” in the story and why she had to do the thugs she did, and why she wouldn’t act certain ways and such!

It’s easy for m to attach myself to characters, but not in such a way I do with Makima. I don’t buy merch much ever, but I have 2 Makima figures and 3 pieces of clothing with her on it. That’s a lot for me! I wouldn’t do that with any other character in existence. She has a comforting presence, because I feel I truly understand her heart down to the smallest compartment. She feels like a friend! Just seeing her makes me happy. I understand her, so the “love” I have for her is like an old married couple that are best friends in older age. For other characters, it might be something a little more— violent? I get cuteness aggression a lot. When I say I love a character, I may say insane things like “I want to push them down a flight of stairs”— actually, that’s only when they’re male. I tend to like pathetic male characters I want to be a parent for, and I tend to like female characters I’d want to be the friend of, so for those, I’d say something like “my lovely sweetie pie❤️❤️”

but for Makima, it’s obviously not that way. I don’t make too many sarcastic rude comments about Makima the way I would for other characters I like. O don’t want to, because it’s not true, and it almost hurts me to even think about— like, the type of hurt that’s vulgar and disrespectful. I really do just love her. But I don’t see her as a sweetie pie either, haha. I don’t want violence on her but I also don’t want overwhelming love. Because she is a character that is grounded in reality.

I don’t want to be her friend. I think that’s kind of a foolish concept! I can only understand her like I do because we’re separated, and I can view her objectively like a bug. But because she’s been by my side so long, her concept is familiar, and I find comfort in just the idea of her. I’ve written a lot, but it was an interesting question, so I wanted to explain it as best that I could. Thank you very much for asking it!

[kaysfanficcorner]

Celebrity Crush, Part 2

Summary: Dieter Bravo's new friend attends opening night of Dieter's play, and afterwards the two of them get more acquainted.

AO3

Author's Note:

I cannot believe it's been so long since I posted the first chapter of Celebrity Crush. Suffice to say, my life got completely turned upside down for awhile. I started a new job, and then shortly after we had a complete psycho living next door to us and had to vacate our home for safety. The last year has been so hard for a multitude of reasons, and although I didn't have the drive in me to do any writing, Celebrity Crush and Out of this World (my Mando series) have remained in the forefront of my mind. Both of these stories are so important to me. A few days ago it suddenly hit me that I was ready to sit behind a keyboard again.

So here we are, the second chapter of Celebrity Crush that should have been posted a over year ago. If you're new to this story, then welcome. If you read the first chapter and wondered why I never posted another, I sincerely hope you're back and you enjoy this one.

As I've said before, this story is really just a fun little fantasy experiment and I probably wont post chapters too frequently. And like most of us, I use my writing to work through personal shit using creativity. Some of it is drawing from reality and some of it is completely made up.

Honestly, I don't care for The Bubble over all. But I think Dieter is such an interesting character for being from a film that didn't have much substance. I feel the Dieter in the film is very different than the Dieter in my head, but what drew me to writing him this way was the thought "What is this man like when he's not riddled with drugs and Hollywood bullshit?" I hope you enjoy my version of Dieter just as much as I do.

 Warnings: Marijuana use. Mentions of depression and self hatred. Hints at suicidal thoughts and self harm. And, of course, sexual situations. Rated M/R/18+ as always.

*****

Against the odds you make it to the theater faster than anticipated, but all the while your nerves make the train ride seem to feel agonizingly slow. Every stop eats away at you. It’s crowded and you’re freezing. The thin lace of the shimmery black evening gown may look absolutely killer on you, but the elegant thing isn’t a very warm piece of clothing whatsoever. All you brought with you as far as outerwear goes is the black leather jacket on your back. The only carry on item a small black and gold purse slung across your chest filled with only the bare necessities.

 You feel borderline insane, still half convinced that everything you experienced earlier today was the result of falling and busting your head open on the Manhattan sidewalk. Surely you're laid up in some hospital bed with a bandage around your noggin, not on your way to spend an evening with your celebrity crush.

 Your thoughts are erratic. Images bouncing around in your head like the orange balls of an arcade basketball game. At first you try to listen to music to quiet the overstimulation, but that only serves to make you more antsy. So you go back to the podcast episode you’d been listening to earlier and the humor is enough to distract you for a little while. 

 Every now and then, though, you pull up the short text conversation with Dieter to re-read over (more like over-analyze) the messages. With a happy little smile playing at your lips, your fingers hover over the letters of the keyboard. You even type out a message or two before immediately deleting it on more than one occasion. The knot in your stomach feels like its getting tighter by the moment, but looking at the contact photo he'd left for you leaves a warmth in the center of that knot. His eyes are so kind, and the goofy little smile is so genuine. 

 Groaning to yourself after the fourth time you do this, you shove your phone back in the small handbag with a huff. You want to talk to him again but you're fully aware that he's busy with the show. Closing your eyes, you force yourself to focus on the host of your favorite podcast describing a scene from Poltergeist II. You can't help the girlish daydreaming that eventually creeps into your mind. You imagine that watching Fright Night at Dieter’s will go so well that he invites you back over to marathon the Poltergeist franchise next. Then you imagine making a regular thing of watching horror films with him, curled into his side on some big luxurious couch that you're sure he must own. His hand ghosting over the flesh of your neck as he drapes a long arm over your shoulder, the other hand feeding you popcorn now and again. The giddiest smile yet finds your lips, and an excited little giggle erupts from your throat. Out loud. 

 Once you remember you’re on the train your eyes snap open in fear. Sure enough, the hot, green haired punk woman across the aisle is smirking right at you as if she knows your worst secret and you flush with mild embarrassment. 

 Mercifully, somehow, your stop comes up only a few minutes later. You’re off the train and back on street in no time at all, the sun almost completely set and the full moon already hanging high over the city of New York. The littlest taste of dark purple left in the sky is enough to make your heart soar, and you're once again reminded that you live here. In this huge, scary, magical place. 

 With the help of your trusty GPS you manage find the correct theater in under five minutes. It’s incredibly obvious as you round a corner and your sight is immediately struck with huge lamppost advertisements of Dieter and other actors dressed in Shakespearean garb. You’re not sure how to feel, gooseflesh making it’s way up your arms and back as you stand under the glowing marquee displaying his name in huge red letters. Checking your watch you find that you're actually somewhat early, so there’s plenty of time to get your ticket. Enough time to grab a drink from the bar on your way to your seat, even. Some of the anxiety subsides as you pop another half of a gummy on your way inside, telling yourself that whatever happens next you’re just along on for the ride.  

 The theater lobby is gorgeous, and it's filled with gorgeous people of every variety. You've been to a Broadway show before, but a matinee of a family friendly musical is a far cry from opening night of a huge production. There are a few minor celebrities you recognize and you're sure a good bit of the crowd is press, or at the very least some sort of influencer. A few of them even seem to be live streaming. 

 When you approach the box office you slide your ID under the thin gap in the glass, saying your full name to the white haired attendant dressed like a bellhop without the hat. For a split second fear creeps into your belly that all of this really is in your head and the woman is about to tell you there’s no such reservation. But then you’re being handed a thin envelope and she’s telling you to enjoy the show. You look down at the off white paper in your hands, very clearly reading the word “weirdo” scribbled in semi-legible masculine-looking handwriting. A new warmth spreads through you in that moment, and suddenly you’re no longer questioning the reality of where you are or why.

   Once you check your jacket at the coat check you’re glad that you found the right dress for such an event. Everyone around you seems very well dressed and well-to-do. In anything else you’d feel so out of place, but in the knockout frock of 2018? You fit in nicely. Henry will most assuredly have to be thanked at a later juncture. 

 With a gin and tonic in one hand and a ticket in the other, you’re directed to a seat down in the front row but slightly off to the left. Of course he got you front row. How? Who knows and frankly who cares. This is a once in a lifetime kind of day and you intend to enjoy it. 

 Lights begin to dim shortly after you take your seat, and shortly after that music begins flowing out from the pit orchestra only a few yards away from where you sit. The sound of it reverberates through every single one of your molecules. The great red curtain begins to lift, and suddenly you’re transported into the realm of William Shakespeare. Admittedly never a subject you’ve felt very passionate about, but being here in this place and under these circumstances it suddenly seems quite magical. 

 Dieter makes his way onto the stage after a short opening scene, and your breath hitches in your throat at the sight of him. This is not the man you met on the street and had coffee with earlier that afternoon. No, this is a different man entirely. His handsome face may be the same, but he’s completely become the character he’s playing. Truly acting, you think to yourself with mystified splendor. Watching him move about the stage with such ease brings the biggest grin to your face. Hearing him delivering lines that you would have stumbled over as if they are his original thoughts is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced while watching a live play. He’s so fucking mesmerizing and so fucking talented and you ache for him so fucking bad in this moment. 

 This is the closest you've ever been to the stage at a show like this, and you realize towards the end of the first act just how much the distance makes a difference. Sure, you can still appreciate a performance from the nosebleeds, but down here in the front row? You can see everything. Every crinkle of the nose, every eyeroll, every movement of the brow. The performance feels so intimate in the front row. You finally understand why people consider it to be worth the cost.

 The scene changes to night. Dieter's character is alone on stage, a spotlight following his movements as he confidently strides across. He's making his way over to your side, the closer he gets the more you feel your stomach flip flop inside you. His movements seem both deliberate and natural at the same time, and he begins to deliver a monologue in a soft voice. His eyes suddenly flick out towards you. For a delusional moment it feels as if he's acting to you and you alone, like you're the only audience he has before him and he's putting everything he has into the words flowing from his mouth. Suddenly his voice falters, followed by a long pause. He's still looking in your direction, but then his eyes slip closed and worry that he stumbled over the line floods your system. 

 Dieter continues to surprise you, though, by lunging into the rest of the monologue with such raw emotion and ferocity. He quickly moves across stage again, giving that side of the audience a taste of it as well. You realize then that all of that had been part of the performance. Watching the emotions he's tapped into radiate from his very being strikes you with such emotion of your own. Hot tears well in you eyes, falling slowly down your cheeks as you steady your breathing to keep control of yourself. Dabbing at your eyes with a napkin, your chest swells for your celebrity crush. 

 As Dieter finishes, he exits the stage and the curtain begins to drop for intermission. The crowd claps uproariously, yourself among some of the loudest and most enthusiastic.  

 After such a poignant moment in the show, you definitely feel like you could use to get another drink. You get up to leave just as an attendant stops you at the end of the aisle. The man asks if you are who you are, to which you respond in the affirmative, and then you’re being led out of the auditorium to a restricted area. There you are brought to a green door marked as “Dressing Room 1”, where the attendant raps on the thing three times before taking three strides back.

   Door flying open, a disheveled Dieter is revealed to you on the other side. He looks frantic, almost pained. You’re shocked to see him like this after such a rousing performance in the first half of the play. Grabbing your wrist, he thanks the attendant and informs him that this will only take a few moments before yanking you into the small dressing room.

 “What’s going on?” You ask, wide-eyed and confused. 

 Dieter looks you up and down, biting his pouty lower lip while running a hand through his beautiful brown hair. The he seems to remember that he’s not supposed to fuck up the hair, cursing under his breath while moving over to the mirror to fix it. He’s got on heavy stage make up, the eyeliner making him look like a mix between a rock star and a pirate. The dressing room itself looks like every single one you’ve ever seen in a movie. Costumes, make up, and wigs strewn about. Big white lightbulbs lining the large mirror over the vanity. Its surreal to say the least.

 “I need your help, if that’s okay,” Dieter says as he turns to you again. “I don’t have a lot of time so this needs to be quick.” 

 You’re still frozen in place, slightly dumbfounded. “Help with what? You’re doing really great out there, by the way. Amazing, actually.” 

 “Thanks. Listen, I caught a glimpse of you towards the end of the first act and I’ve been distracted ever since. You look so fucking gorgeous in that dress, muñequita. But I can’t be fucking distracted while I work.” As he says this, he’s taking steps towards you with a very serious expression. Closing the short distance until he’s practically right up against you. 

 Looking up into his deep chocolate eyes, which are fixated on your mouth, you part you lips and ask him, “How can I help?” 

 Then his hands fly to your face, and he’s pulling you into him for a kiss. His soft, plump lips find yours eagerly and you respond by melting into his touch. Your hands find his waist, grabbing on either side to steady yourself against the neediness of the kiss while trying not to upset the placement of his costume. The slickness of his tongue entering your mouth causes you to moan, opening wider to allow him better entry. He tastes so fucking good, like honey from the cup of tea he probably had earlier for his voice. His facial hair feels somehow both scratchy and soft against your skin. 

 And then he’s pulling apart from you, panting slightly as his wild eyes scan your face and his hands drop down to his sides. “Shit, I didn't really ask for permission to touch you like that. M’sorry,” he mumbles, clearly worried that a line has been irrevocably crossed. 

 You chuckle, glad to know his moral sense is sound. “I would have said yes, if it makes you feel any better. Thanks for caring about not being a dick, though.” 

 He looks shy, “I like you. Don’t want to get off on the wrong foot immediately.” 

 You heart rate speeds up when he says that he likes you. “Sorry I’m so distracting,” you offer lamely. 

 “Don’t be, muñequita.” He places another chaste kiss upon your lips before spinning you around and urging you towards the door. You let him guide you with ease. “We’ll continue this later, but I’ve got to get ready. Thank you for indulging me.” 

 “You’re welcome,” you say, grinning over your shoulder at him. “To be continued.” 

 “Si, mi hermosa.” 

 With that, you’re out in the hallway once more as the door closes behind you. You lean back against it with your head tilted up at the ceiling and your eyes closed, replaying the kiss you just shared with your celebrity crush. Once again everything feels both completely unreal and entirely tangible at the same time. A giddy grin spreads across your face as you giggle to yourself, fingers lightly grazing your still tingling lips. And then the sound of someone clearing their throat pulls you back to reality. 

 The attendant is still there, having waited to escort you back to your seat. He looks at you with a raised eyebrow for a moment before he turns on his heel to begin walking back to the auditorium. Fucking really? Again? Oh well, you think with another giggle as you follow him.

 Pulling out your phone, you send a quick update to Henry in the form of a single lipstick stain emoji and five exclamation points. You receive a colorful response almost immediately, making you snort a little as you type out, “I am not a skank! ...not yet at least,” in response. 

 The rest of the show goes off without a hitch. Dieter’s performance in the final scene brings tears to your eyes once again. It has nothing to do with the attraction you feel towards him. You’re completely in awe of him on a professional level. Regardless of the messy reputation he’s been trying to move away from, at the end of the day Dieter Bravo is still a really great actor. Phenomenal, even.

 After the standing ovation and the curtain call, during which Dieter winks down at you just as he lifts up from bowing and your heart skips a beat, everyone in the auditorium starts to vacate. Some people outright leave, others go to the bar for one more drink to mingle and discuss the show. Dieter had told you to stay put, and you never did get that second gin and tonic during intermission so you make your way through the crowds on a quest for your favorite drink. 

 Once at the lavish bar with your order placed, you lean against the elegant mahogany and truly take in your surroundings. It feels odd to be in a beautiful room full of well dressed strangers as they argue the finer points of William Shakespeare’s works. You over hear a couple of people praising Dieter, one person saying that he was “just fine, nothing spectacular”, and you find the concept of difference of opinion very interesting as you quietly hone in your eavesdropping skills. 

 Just as the bar tender is sliding your drink over, the small crowd of people begin clapping and cheering. You look up to see Dieter and some of the other actors from the show enter the bar, dressed in normal clothes once again. Even though he’s forced to smile and shake hands with a few random people along the way, he seems to notice you almost immediately. A wicked grin crosses his features as he tries his best to make a beeline for you. 

 “So you’re a gin and tonic girl?” Dieter asks as he finally approaches the bar, and you’re aware of many eyes on you.

 “Uh huh,” you nod, talking through a plastered on smile, “I feel so fucking awkward right now with these people looking at me wondering why you’re talking to me.” 

 “Fuck these people,” whispering, he grins again almost devilishly, “so are you coming back to my place?” 

 You nod again, “Yes, please. If you'll still have me.” 

 “Fantastic,” he leans over the bar to whisper even lower, careful not to get too close with prying eyes all around. He orders a drink, just a seltzer with lime oddly enough, making it look like he’s idly chatting with you as he waits. “Here’s the plan: I have to mingle for a minute and sign a few autographs, but then I can make my escape. Drink your drink and wait about fifteen minutes, then leave out the front and go two blocks to the left then one to the right. There's a news stand on that corner. Wait for me there.” 

 “Copy that,” you agree, grinning as you take a sip. “Bravo by the way, Bravo. The play was great. You were great. I mean it.”

 “Thanks, muñequita.” He chuckles, smiling almost bashfully. The smile accentuates all of the best things about his features, leaving him looking like a work of art. It’s insane that a man a almost twenty years older than you is so youthful to you. Youthful and so very beautiful. The concept shouldn’t work yet somehow it does. He’s so pretty. And by some stroke of fate he's interested in you. 

 So you execute this plan, waiting the agreed upon fifteen minutes as he fucks off to go mingle. You make quick work of running for one last trip to the bathroom, collecting your jacket, and leaving the theater all together. Stepping out into the chilly night, you walk two blocks to the left and one to the right just as he instructed. The news stand is there just as he said, but it's locked up for the night. It’s cold as hell and you really wish that you’d thought better of it when you left Queens. Holding yourself, you bounce from foot to foot trying to stay warm as you watch your breath form in front of your face. It’s only autumn and you’re from a few states further south, so you hadn’t considered how chilly the night would be. 

 “Hey, weirdo,” a voice appears from behind you after a long while. You turn to see Dieter standing there, a shy little smile playing at his lips and his hands shoved in his pockets. He’s wearing the black pea coat you’d seen him in earlier that afternoon, but the sunglasses have been replaced with a gray scarf and hat that he did not have before. 

 “Hey, crush,” you respond, attempting to grin at him through lightly chattering teeth. 

 He frowns, “Is that all you have to wear?”

 “Yeah,” you pout, “I didn’t think this through. I was too worried about looking cute.” 

 “Well you succeeded, but you’ve got to dress warmer than that in this town.” He shakes his head, chuckling as he slowly unravels the dark gray scarf from himself. Stepping forward, he delicately drapes the warm thing around your neck, wrapping it around a few times so that you can bury the lower half of your face in its warmth if you feel the need to. You nearly moan as you inhale the scent of it, the scent of him. It’s intoxicating, carrying notes of tobacco, weed, and expensive cologne. You could breathe this in forever and never need real oxygen ever again. 

 “Your scarf smells really fucking good,” you mumble into the fabric, taking an obvious sniff. That second gin and tonic must have lowered your inhibitions slightly. 

 “You look really fucking cute in my scarf,” he says, pulling his coat together at the neck to try and shield himself from the fresh blasts of cold in that particular area. “What do you say we go watch that movie?”

   “Let’s go,” agreeing, you nod forward as if to tell Dieter you want him to lead the way. He surprises you by extending an elbow so that you can grab hold of his arm while you walk beside each other. “How far is your place?” 

  *****

 Dieter loves the feeling of your arm sliding into his, pulling you in close as he begins walking towards the apartment. Your hand grazes his for a moment, and when he feels how cold your flesh is to the touch he shakes his head with a chuckle. Working his fingers into yours, Dieter takes your hand in his before shoving both into the large pocket of his coat. Even though it’s cold to the point of being uncomfortable, he relishes in the feeling of your smaller hand in his. 

 “Not too far. Rented close to the theater so I could just walk to work.”

  You snuggle into him after a little gust of wind causes you to shiver, burying your face into his scarf. Dieter is beside himself as you inhale deeply once again, looking up at him with a little grin. “Fuck, this thing smells so damn good. You smell so good.” 

 He's sure he's blushing from that.

 Soon enough he’s guiding you into the entrance of the swanky apartment building lobby, explaining to the doorman that you’re his guest on the way towards the elevator. Once in the elevator, he hits the button for his floor and watches as you adjust to the warmth of the building’s heating system. You shake your arms out, leaning back against the hand rail. 

 “I can’t believe I didn’t think to wear a better coat," you say.

 “You may have suffered, but you do look fucking incredible in that outfit.” Dieter smirks down at you, one hand on the mirrored wall you’re pressed against as he looms over. He enjoys the way you squirm under his gaze. “Tell me, muñequita, did you get all dressed up like this to impress me? Did your hair and make up all nice even though we both know you don’t need any of that fucking shit?” 

 You blush, avoiding his gaze for a moment before meeting his eyes again. He’s already leaning forward and you’re already lifting up to meet him halfway. “I might have,” you say lowly with a little smirk playing at your lips. “Maybe I like getting dressed up, and maybe I wanted to make sure that you knew I wasn’t fucking around with my intentions here.”

   Just as his lips are about to make contact with yours, the elevator stops and the door opens. His head jerks up just in time to see a neighbor standing there waiting for their turn in the metal contraption. Clearing his throat, Dieter gestures for you to exit the elevator with him and the two of you awkwardly shuffle past the stranger. You’re stifling giggles and he lightly slaps you on the ass, no more than a tap really, as he chuckles. 

 Dieter’s apartment is right down the hall to the left. Unlocking the door, he allows you entry first and steps in behind you as he repositions the bolt to locked once more while also locking the chain. When he turns you’re standing there in the foyer a literal fucking vision, looking up at him with big doe eyes. He can tell that you’re a little nervous now that you’re actually in his home, but the awkwardness only serves to enhance how adorable you are to him. Dressed up in a sexy fucking black dress but with an almost timid energy is such a wild contrast. 

 “So, I want to take a shower before we settle in for the movie,” he says, “you’re welcome to borrow a sweater if you want something warm to change into.” 

 “I appreciate that. I could use to get cozy.” 

 Your cheeks flush, and he resists the urge to kiss you once more. Not yet. Earlier had been way too impulsive, like the old Dieter, and he wants the next time he kisses you to feel perfect. He likes you a lot. It makes him want to do right by you in a way that he's never been compelled to in the past. Not even with Anika, who he thought he loved a great deal at the time. 

 Dieter takes you through the decently sized apartment, noticing fondly how you’re slowly taking in your surroundings as he does so. He enters the bedroom, gesturing to the king sized bed with dark trimmings as he moves over to the huge closet and flings it open. Rifling through the selection, he plucks out a heavy eggplant purple sweater. Then he moves over to a dresser, where he pulls out a pair of black boxer briefs. 

 He looks you up and down, savoring every inch of your body in the black dress one more time before he offers you the warmer clothes. “Here, you can change into this if you want to. Feel free to make yourself comfortable while I’m getting cleaned up. I won’t be very long.”

 

*****

 You watch as he lays the clothing down on the bed before moving for the attached bathroom. He shuts himself in with a little smirk on his face and you can hear the water begin to run, followed by the pleasant sound of Dieter humming to himself. The sound of it brings a smirk of your own to your lips.

 Pulling out your phone, you quickly inform Henry that you’re at Dieter’s and you’re safe. Then you shrug off the leather jacket, sitting on the edge of the bed to undo your combat boots and kick them off. Standing while simultaneously unzipping yourself, you begin stripping down to your underwear. The nature of the gown’s neckline made it so that you’d foregone a bra tonight, so for a brief moment you’re standing in Dieter Bravo’s bedroom in nothing but socks, a pair of panties, and jewelry. 

 After admiring yourself in the large full-length mirror next to the closet, you move to grab his big purple sweater. The soft knitted garment slides over your head with ease, falling to just below your hips. You take the pair of boxer briefs, slipping them on like a pair of bike shorts. Your plump ass is almost too big to fit his size and you’re thinking endlessly about the fact that his dick was once nestled in this very fabric, but you manage to make it work. 

  Looking around the room, you try to get a vibe for what Dieter’s private life must look like. You’re happy to see that he’s still painting, having noticed a messy room full of canvases next to this mostly tidy bedroom. He’s got a living room and kitchen, obviously. It’s definitely bigger and far more modern than the apartment you share with Henry in Queens, but its not as extravagant as you’d expected it to be. He’s got a few things on the walls of the sleekly styled bedroom. Various dark atheistic art pieces, a vintage movie poster for some Italian horror film you’ve heard of but never seen, and a few framed Queens of The Stone Age vinyl's. He’d told you in the coffee shop that they’re his favorite band, and he wasn’t kidding. Not only is his tase in film similar to yours, his taste in music seems to be as well. 

 When your eyes land on the golden statue situated on a nearby shelf, said eyes nearly fall right out of your head. It's a shape you know well. An academy award, an Oscar. There are a few other awards on the same shelf. A Golden Globe, a few Emmys, and some you don't recognize. But the Oscar? Holy. Shit. That one is special for a multitude of reasons. You remember the night that Dieter won that Oscar so fondly, given that you and your parents would sit down to watch the award ceremony live every single year. Once you were old enough to appreciate film the way that you do now, the three of you would try and see every singe film that was nominated. That way, when the big night finally came, you could have your opinions and make your guesses with the confidence of someone who had seen the films. You used to look at your parents with complete confidence and tell them you plan to be there one day. That one way or another they'd go to watch and see you on the red carpet. Hopefully a dream that can still be achieved.

 You'd been in high school when Dieter won his. The crush you have on him was already in full swing at this point. You'd begged your parents to go see his film opening weekend, and when the news of his best actor nomination came out you were over the moon for him. After having watched his career evolve from b-movie horror flicks to big studio films, you told your mother and father that he deserved it more than anyone. Your father had knowingly told you that maybe your little crush was clouding your judgment, so of course you'd rubbed it in his face when Dieter won.

 Smiling to yourself, you can recall the way your stomach flipped and your heart swelled at the sight of him on the red carpet. He'd been dressed to the nines, with perfect skin and perfect hair. The biggest take away you have always kept with you from that night was how utterly grateful Dieter Bravo seemed to be there. Like he didn't quite believe that he deserved the recognition at all. It was bashful in a way that feels akin to how bashful he's been acting around you all night. The same kind of energy. 

 Thinking of the shock on a younger Dieter's face when the presenter opened the envelope and read his name to the audience, and the tears in his eyes as he climbed the stairs to the stage to make his acceptance speech, you're reminded of the fact that this must have been one of the biggest moments in his life. You'd watched him hold his Oscar with such fondness that night, and now that exact same statue is not three feet from your face. Involuntary movements cause your arm to reach out, and two of your fingers lightly caress the smooth surface. You desperately want to know how heavy it feels in your hands, but you don't dare try to remove it from its perch. God forbid you break the damn thing.

 Dieter told you to get comfortable so you move to climb onto the bed, laying on your stomach at the foot of it. It’s so fucking luxurious that you nearly moan, pressing yourself into the pleasant material. A laugh bubbles up your throat as you realize that your parents are going to lose their minds when they eventually find out about this evening. Given that they had to hear Dieter's name dozens of times when you were a teenager, this is going to come as a wild shock. 

 Soon the shower cuts off and you hear him rummaging around in there. Then the door opens and Dieter reappears wearing an olive green bathrobe. His sopping wet hair looks two shades darker, falling around his head in a way that makes him look so adorable as he smiles over at you. His naturally tan skin is slightly reddish, indicating that the water of his shower had been hot. 

 “Mm,” he hums, “wearing my clothes in and lying my bed is a good look for you, muñequita. Better than that dress, even.” 

 You smile up at him, rolling onto your back as you stretch out. The littlest bit of tummy peaks out when the sweater rides up, and Dieter’s facial expression changes for the briefest of moments as he blatantly stares at the area of exposed flesh. You wonder if he’s going to try and make a move while he’s already mostly naked, but he quietly grabs himself a T-shirt and sweatpants before heading back into the bathroom without saying a word. You can’t decide if you’re disappointed or not. When he comes out again fully dressed, smelling of tea tree oil and hair fixed slightly with product, you sit up and swing your legs over the side of the bed to stand next to him. 

 Bashfully gesturing for you to follow, he takes you out to the living room where a large couch and even larger TV are waiting to be used for their intended purpose. “Grab a blanket from that basket and make yourself at home,” he says in a friendly manner, moving to a bookshelf imbedded into the wall itself. There he plucks a horizontally placed book-the only one like this-off the second shelf down from the top. Coming to sit beside where you’re doing exactly what you’d been told, he sets the book down on the coffee table before grabbing the remotes to get the TV set up.

   You lean forward, peering at the book for not even a millisecond before you realize that it looks like a beat up copy of Stephen King’s IT in hardcover. But its clearly not a real book. Upon closer inspection, it appears to be a wooden box made to look like a book. 

 “What’s with IT?” You ask, left eye brow raised as you point to it. 

 “That’s one of my favorite books, scared the shit out of me as a young man,” he explains enthusiastically. “I take it the weirdo is a fan?”

   “Oh hell yeah,” you’re also full of enthusiasm, similar to when you gushed about Fright Night to him at the coffee shop. “It’s indisputably King’s masterpiece! I’ve read it three times. But I meant what’s up with the fake copy.” 

 Dieter smirks at you, leaning forward to flick the thing open with an index finger. “This, muñequita, is my stash box. I’ve had this thing since college. It’s been with me through all kinds of crazy shit in my dumb life.” 

 Inside is a small row of four perfectly rolled joints all lined up together with a lighter and a small ashtray. You look down at the nice little set up, realizing that the act of smoking must be somewhat of a ritual for Dieter Bravo. Much like how you view your own use of weed in your daily life. It’s endearing to see that the two of you relate in that way. You’re also relieved to see that there isn’t anything harder than marijuana in the box. 

 “Love the set up,” you bump your shoulder into his, “and I love that you’re a weed guy. I never make any friends with the same sensibilities when it comes to smoking.” 

 Dieter’s face contorts for a second, morphing into something akin to uncomfortable. “Well, it’s the one vice I really allow myself these days besides cigarettes. Don’t really even drink much anymore. Before my last stint in rehab, I nearly died. Again. And then I lost everything. Got dropped by my old agent, then Anika left me. Ended up getting passed over for a role I felt really passionate about and the actor who did get the gig is probably going to be up for an Oscar this year. Some family stopped taking my calls. I didn’t know what real rock bottom felt like until all that shit happened. What a fucking wake up call. That was a little over a year ago. If it wasn’t for my sister helping me out I’d probably be dead right now.”

   You’d read a headline last year about how Dieter was in rehab again, but you had no idea how bad things had actually been for him. Reaching a hand out, you tentatively stroke the inside of his wrist with a few fingertips. “Fuck, Dieter. I’m sorry that happened to you.” 

 “Please don’t be. I did it to myself. I let the pressure of Hollywood kill the little kid in me who just wanted to make movies like the ones I would go see with my family in the 80s. I’ve always had an addictive personality, and once you become famous it’s incredibly easy to get the worst kinds of drugs and fuck the worst kinds of people and do the dumbest kind of shit. That’s why I’m back in New York for the foreseeable future. I needed a break from LA and all the bullshit that comes with it.” 

 “Do you worry that smoking is going to make you relapse, though?” You ask, hoping you don’t sound judgmental. He’s opening up to you a lot, and you’d rather not scare him off. “Also I’m sorry for speaking so fondly of doing mushrooms at the coffee shop earlier today and for drinking at the show, if that was triggering at all.” 

 “Nah. I barely smoked weed like this before now. My thing was always coke and LSD and anything else like that I could get my hands on. Hard shit. Chemical shit. My doctor actually prescribed a medical card because smoking helps chill me out and relax when I feel like the pressure is getting too strong again and a real craving is starting to hit me. And no worries about the mushrooms or the drinks. I’ll never touch that chemically altered shit ever again, but if it grows from the Earth it’s alright by me. I’m also in therapy, so that’s helping a lot. I feel like I got a second lease on life, and I’m trying really hard not to fuck things up this time.” 

 “That’s really admirable, Dieter. Everyone makes mistakes but not everyone has the will power to grow from them.” 

 He chuckles humorlessly, “Yeah. I still hate myself most of the time, though.” 

 “I can relate to that. I used to have a real problem with self hatred. Mine just manifested in a different way.”

 He’s being vulnerable with you, almost a silent permission for you to be vulnerable as well, so you slide up the oversized sleeve of his sweater to show him your left forearm. The colorful, horror themed tattoo that sprawls across your flesh does a good job of covering up what’s underneath at first glance, but if someone is really looking the raised scars beneath the ink are clearly there. 

 Dieter looks down at it for a long moment before his gaze lifts back up to meet your eyes. He reaches out, hovering fingers just above your skin as he silently waits for you to allow this. You nod, swallowing, and the tips of his index and middle fingers graze lightly over the surface of scar tissue. His touch leaves a tingling sensation in it’s wake. He frowns then, looking into your eyes once more as his hand lightly encircles your wrist. “I don’t like that you used to hurt yourself.” 

 You reach out, brushing a damp curl from his forehead as you look his face over with a frown of your own. “And I don’t like that you used hurt yourself. Seems like we’ve both dealt with a lot of pain in our lives.”

   “Seems like it,” he agrees as a self conscious expression crosses his features. “Fuck, I didn’t mean to get so serious on you. You’re just so easy to talk to and I don’t have a lot of friends. Genuine ones, anyway.”

 Smiling, you take his hand and squeeze it once before letting it drop. “It’s okay, really. I’m glad that you feel comfortable being honest with me.” 

 Dieter leans towards the coffee table, grabbing a joint from the box and placing it between his lips before moving to light it with the red bic lighter. He eyes you with a cheekily grin, waggling his eyebrows about. “You wanna split this?” 

 “Hell yes,” you agree, grinning as he hands the burning thing over to you. 

 As you smoke together, Dieter gets everything set up to watch Fright Night while the two of you continue to converse.

 “So what was Dieter Bravo like as a young man?” You ask suddenly, eyeing him with a playfully narrowed gaze as you take your two puffs. 

His eyes widen comically. “What do you mean?” 

 “Like, what was your style? What music were you into, what high school click were you a part of?” 

 “The nerds and the goths and the punks and the theater kids,” Dieter replies immediately, smiling fondly at you. “That character you had such as crush on as a pre-teen? That was pretty much me. I had the jet black hair, the piercings, the black trench coat. My favorite Depeche Mode and The Cure tapes were worn out in my first car. I thought I was a badass motherfucker, going to play practice to rehearse Guys and Dolls dressed like fucking early 90s Dracula.” 

 You gush, “I adore Dracula so you get points from me. Man, I wish I could have seen you in your young goth days. I bet it was adorable. Also, you were in Guys and Dolls? So was I, in middle school! But I had a super small background role. I was basically just in the chorus.” 

 He seems shocked by this, “What? How the hell weren’t you the lead?” 

 “I froze up in my audition just like I always did. I have no idea how you people can act. It’s so nerve wracking. I much prefer the storytelling aspect of the business.” 

 “Really? You think so? It's always been so natural for me.” 

 “Oh one hundred percent. I had one good experience in drama class with a monologue that I nailed and that was about it. You, on the other hand, you make it seem like the easiest thing in the world. God, watching you tonight was magical. I truly believed that you were another person up there. What is it you love about acting that makes it seem like a no brainer?” 

 He seems to mull this over for a moment, “That’s just it. I get to be someone else for a little bit. I’ve never liked myself very much so getting to be another person is so appealing to me. Why I always liked wearing costumes on Halloween. I forget that I’m Dieter and I become whoever it is I’m playing while the camera is rolling or its my queue to be on stage. I don’t worry about what the people watching me are thinking or feeling, because I’m temporarily living the life of another person who’s somewhere else doing something spectacular and those people spectating don’t even exist.”

   “Wow, that answer was kind of incredible.” 

 He shrugs, looking shy again. “Just answering from the heart. That’s not what I would have said in an interview.” 

 You reach over and stroke his hand. “Well, thanks for talking to me like a real person.” 

 He pulls your hand to his mouth, kissing your knuckles once. “Thanks for treating me like a real person.” 

 After the joint is finished Dieter begins the movie. You honestly expect it to last all of twenty minutes, assuming (and hoping) that Dieter will eventually make a move that leads to the two of you making out and missing most of the film. He surprises you yet again, when he shows no interest in carrying on during the viewing. At one point, about a half hour in, Dieter tells you that you’re too far away and motions for you to come lean your body against him. You do, heart racing, and he drapes an arm around your shoulders. But that’s all he ever does. 

 Dieter Bravo is dead set on watching the movie he invited you over to watch. You aren’t disappointed, though. In fact, you’re thrilled that the movie hadn’t been a tactic to fuck you after all. He genuinely wanted to watch it and he genuinely wanted you to be a part of the experience. It endears him to you that much more. 

 When the nightclub sequence happens, your favorite part of the film, Dieter dances a little with you while seated. You laugh heartily when he says, “This is way hornier than I remember it being.” But he still doesn't make a move.

 After the film’s conclusion, Dieter lights up another jay and checks the time. It’s late. “Would you like to sleep over?” He asks shyly, handing the joint over. 

 Taking a long drag, you nod your head before speaking through a small cloud with a sleepy little grin. “I’d love to sleep over, Dieter.” 

 The actor takes a long drag himself, grinning as he seems pleased with this. “You don’t have to sleep in the bed with me if you don’t want to, but you’re more than welcome to join me. Or you can have it and I can just fuck off here on the couch. I want you to feel comfortable here.” 

 “I’m comfortable here,” you smile warmly, amused by him. He looks so cute when he’s high like this, red eyes squinting as an almost gentle timidness takes over. “Are you trying to act like a gentleman, Dieter?” 

 “Kinda,” he agrees, eyebrows raising a little as he puffs on the joint twice more. “Part of me wants to be gentlemanly, and part of me wants to be honest and say I really want you in bed with me. That I want take you into that bedroom and show you what you fucking do to me.” 

 “I mean, I honestly wouldn’t be opposed to that.” 

*****

 And that’s how you find yourself positioned head down and ass up, hands tied behind your back with a designer neck tie from Dieter’s closet as the man himself fucks you relentlessly from behind. His cock, thick and lovely and torturous, sliding into you unprotected with such force and rhythm that your once tandem movements with his are now erratic and messy. You sound like a wild animal, feral noises escaping you as he presses his thumb against your exposed clit with the lightest amount of pressure.

  “Come on, sweetheart," he coos, "I know you can get wetter than this for me.” Then he increases the pressure, and you start to moan deeply against the mattress to this sensation you adore so much. The most private of feelings in the most private of places, a pleasure you've only experienced with a handful of individuals. Somehow, someway, here you are experiencing it with the man you’ve crushed on for nearly two decades of your life. 

 Your legs begin to tremble as the pleasure budding in your core begins to fire up rapidly. “Oh fuck, D. Feels so fucking good when you touch me there.” You can’t see him (you can’t open your eyes is more like it) but you know he’s grinning down at you like a wild man. He’s sweating, and you imagine that his lovely hair is growing damper by the moment. 

 “Mm, dirty fucking girl likes her perfect little clit being played with? How’s it feel to have your celebrity crush touch you like this? Fucking that perfect little pussy at the same time? I bet this doesn't even feel real, does it?” 

 “So-gah-so fucking good,” you repeat the previous phrase, practically purring, and Dieter spanks you once. The right cheek to be exact. You cry out into the sheets bunched up in front of your face, wrists straining against the silky bonds behind your back. Your shoulders and neck are starting to give in a little but you’re also not ready to ask him to stop. This is heaven in every sense of the word.

 “Oh, come on. You’re a smart fucking girl, I know you have better vocabulary in that pretty fucking head of yours. Nerdy fucking girl’s read IT three times, after all.” He spanks you again, the left cheek this time. You squeal, feeling the sting and loving every bit of it’s sharp sensation through your backside. 

 “My nerve endings are on fire,” you start, panting and grunting between words, “it feels like those Fourth of July sparklers are gently burning my skin all over. You now, the ones on long metal sticks that you wave around? Little prickles of heat are assaulting my senses all at once. I can't believe I'm here with you and you're making me feel this good. Fuck, I’m so close to cumming, Dieter, please.” 

 Dieter pumps into you even harder, slamming into your cervix and causing you to squeal from the combined pain and pleasure of it. Never once does it occur to you to ask him to stop as you whine and writhe with a huge, open mouthed smile plastered to your otherwise contorted face. Dieter begins to coo and soothe you, slowing his thrusts down slightly while removing his thumb. “Good girl. I knew you had something more eloquent to say. Oh, fuck, I can’t last much longer, muñequita.” 

 “I want to taste it,” your salacious voice pleads, bound hands reaching back for him. 

 “Fuck. Careful with what you say, you sound so fucking sexy and I can’t take it.” He pulls out of you then, gently guiding your body to lay on your side. Even though he’s been rough with you (at your request), you can tell he’s still displaying a level of responsibility as the one sort of in charge.

   “Give it, D, please,” you plead more, mouth dropping open and tongue poking out expectantly when he turns his attention to you once more. 

 “Dirty fucking girl,” he hisses, his hips bucking as you suckle the tip of his length with a prominent swirl of the tongue. Eventually he’s grabbing your hair with a vulnerable sounding moan, pushing into your mouth as far as he can go while emptying himself down your throat. You eagerly take every bit, adoring how his body relaxes so completely against you. For a moment it seems as if Dieter is trying to savor the feeling of your lips wrapped around him, but then suddenly he’s pulling out and your hands are being untied. “Your turn, mi hermosa muñequita,” he growls, flipping you onto your back as he lays across the bed, positioning his head between your parted thighs. 

 And so you writhe and squirm and shake, mouth spewing wickedly dirty things as Dieter’s expert tongue works you over. Every touch, every whisper of breath against your flesh is both electrified and amplified. Feeling his mustache tickle your swollen nub, the vibrations of his chuckles when he knowingly backs off at the cusp of your orgasm and you groan in frustration at him. It’s torture in the best possible sense of the word, leaving you feeling like you’re willing to do just about anything in order to spend the rest of your life fucking Dieter Bravo and letting him fuck you. 

 After awhile he adds a few fingers, filling you up to simultaneously stimulate the internal nerve endings that were feeling neglected within your warmth. The addition of these sensations is enough to finally send you over the edge and this time he allows it to happen, gripping onto your trembling legs as he bares down on your clit with repetitive swirls. Sparks begin to build within your core, soon cresting over the edge as pure hormonal pleasure takes hold of your body in an intense orgasm. 

 Coming down from the natural high of sex, you’re aware of Dieter climbing to the top of the bed so that he can lay beside you. Little kisses being peppered up your torso until they reach your mouth, deepening only slightly for a moment before the slick lips are gone again. Everything that just happened feels like an insane fever dream for a few moments until his voice brings you back to the present. In the afterglow of the connection you just shared with him, he looks fucking radiant. 

 “I think you and I should just do this forever. That was too fucking good for this to be a one time thing.” He says, looking you over with a hopeful look in his eye and a lazy little smile on his plump lips. 

 You giggle, rolling onto your belly as you nudge him with your nose upon his shoulder. “Yeah? Like once a week we get together and bang until we're too old to fuck?” 

 Chuckling, he grins down at you with a genuine air about him, moving hair from your face while looking into your eyes. “I mean, that sounds like a good arrangement to me. More than once a week is also acceptable.” 

 “I think you’ve got yourself a bargain,” you laugh, a great yawn escaping your lips afterward. “Mm. Get under the covers with me so we can sleep and then maybe do this again when we get up in the morning.” 

 “Oh shit a wake and fuck?” Dieter makes a silly face, drawing out the ‘i’ in shit for a few seconds while he makes quick work of getting the blankets pulled up over the both of you. 

 “A wake and bake and fuck,” you correct him with a little cheeky grin as you wiggle yourself under the warm bed coverings.  

 Morning comes, and so do the two of you. Once before a shower, once in the shower, twice just after breakfast. You’re not sure your ovaries can take much more of it. You’re certainly going to be walking funny back to Queens, that’s for sure. Breakfast is absolutely amazing. Dieter surprises you by whipping up some crepes from scratch. His ability is impressive, even more so when they turn out to be delicious. Banana, strawberry, Nutella. The man goes all out, even sprinkling on some powdered sugar. The fact that he can cook and likes to cook is such a plus.

 You're not sure what's going to happen from here, but you take comfort in the way he acts as if he has to be torn away from you later to head to the theater. The goodbye you share doesn't feel like goodbye forever, and for now that's enough.

*****

 It’s Friday morning, just a few days after the night of your life spent with Dieter Bravo. You haven’t messaged him for fear of coming off too needy or creepy, and for reasons unknown he hasn’t messaged you either. It’s disappointing, but the fact that you even slept with him at all is a miracle in it of itself. You’re trying to just count your blessings that it even happened and not feel too terrible about the fact that nothing more has come of it. Propped up in bed with your lap top and a cup of coffee, you’re trying desperately not to think about him as you focus on the task at hand. 

 Then your phone rings with a FaceTime call. Odd, you haven’t set up a time to talk to your little sister today and she’s the only person who uses FaceTime to call you. Plus, it’s only just after 10 am and you’re currently working on the clerical work you do part time from home, so she knows not to bug you unless its an emergency. Curious, you lean over from your fold out bed-top desk to look at the incoming call and a huge grin spreads across your features. With a fluttering in your stomach, you grab the device and answer. 

 Dieter Bravo’s face appears on the screen, grinning brightly at you. “Hey, weirdo,” he says, sounding happy as a clam while squinting into the phone. He’s outside somewhere with trees, Central Park you’d imagine, and you can tell that there’s a bit of a glare. But he’s not wearing sunglasses, instead the pair you’ve seen him with before is nestled in his mane of wild brown hair. The gesture comes off as if he purposefully wanted you to see his eyes, even if he can barely open them. 

 “Hey crush,” you respond, thrilled that he decided to call you first. “What’s up?” 

 Dieter looks almost bashful for a moment. “Just wanted to see your face. Picture wasn’t good enough, I needed to see that pretty fucking smile of yours in real time. I’ve been wanting to talk to you since the minute you left my place the other day, but I figured it was best to give you space. Didn’t wanna bombard you or make you uncomfortable.” 

 You smile even more brightly for him. “You know, I’ve been doing the same exact thing. It’s been killing me not to text you but I didn’t want to come off as needy. Is it weird that I miss you? I know it’s been less than two days but I really haven’t stopped thinking about you, D. I miss feeling your presence.” 

 “Same here, sweetheart. You’ve taken over my fucking brain.” 

 “When can I see you in person again?” 

 “There’s a performance tonight… but if you want to you could come over now and just hang out around the house until I get back? You could use your lunch break to get here and then finish working. Plus you’re more than welcome to watch my movies and eat my food.” 

 “I think I could be persuaded,” you say, smirking as you lay across the bed, holding the phone out as you do so. “Tomorrow’s the weekend and I don’t have any work to do on that indie project yet so I’m free for the next two days. I could cook something for the both of us to have when you get back tonight.” 

 “You wanna cook for me, muñequita?” 

 “Yeah,” you admit, “I wanna do something nice for you.” 

 “Wanting to hang out with my old, dumb ass again is more than enough,” he says, avoiding your gaze. He’s acting so shy. Its driving you wild to see that you have such an effect on a man you’ve lusted after for most of your post-pubescent life. You smile warmly at him, not willing to give in to his obvious trepidation. “Hey, please look at me?” 

 “M’sorry,” he mumbles, trying to hide the infectious smile pulling at the edges of his gorgeous mouth. The sun must have dipped behind some clouds, because he’s not squinting as harshly anymore. You can see more of his deep brown eyes as they bore into you through the seven inch screen in your hand. “You just do something to me that I’m not quite used to,” he adds, “it can be kinda overwhelming.” 

 “It’s okay,” you soothe, “you don’t need to be sorry. I just want to see you looking at me while I say this.” Dieter nods, seeming to be genuinely looking at you, so you go on, “I like you. I mean, I really like you. One of my favorite ways of showing affection for people I like is through the act of feeding them delicious food, and I’d love to show you some affection if that’s alright with you, Dieter.”

  His face softens considerably, as if what you just said has struck him in some significant kind of way. “That’s alright with me, yeah. I like you too, weirdo. Like, a lot.” 

 Stomach summersaulting within your abdomen, your face heats up as an uncontrollable little giggle escapes your throat. Your celebrity crush just said he likes you a lot. Christ, this cannot actually be real. There’s simply no way. “Well now that that’s out in the open, my handsome celebrity crush who likes me a lot, I’m going to pack a bag and hop on the train. Are you in Central?”

  “Yeah, but I’ll start heading home soon to meet you there. If you want, feel free to pack a bag for more than one night. I don’t have a show on Sunday, we could make a day of it. Maybe go to a museum or something.” 

 “I’d love that, Dieter. Seriously.” You're absolutely beaming.

 “Me too, muñequita. Now go get that thick little ass of yours moving so I can grip it in my hands while I fuck you up against my bedroom wall before work.”

*****

Part 1

[myl0v3l1f3]

hiiiii hello hii Jecka is the prettiest girl at the party so can u drop all ur headcanons for her? I wanna hear ur thoughts 🔥🔥🔥🔥

Hehe I love you

Also im giving u this (Jeckole sims mobile cus my dad won’t let me use his pc or laptop 💔)

Anyway I got distracted

She has a little brother, his name is smth generic like jack, Jake, Finley (I like this one so ima stick w this) or whatever. Hes 8 in the re-up, and hes literally such a cutie. Jecka is putting all of her free energy into being somewhat of a good big sister. She’ll play with him, watch tv with him, read with him, let him “help w homework” (when he was little, like 4) and like, protect him when their parents got violent, aggressive, started arguing or shouting etc.

She really loves her mum, like, a lot and she hates it sometimes. Since her mum puts all her time and effort into looking good, heroin, alcohol, cigs etc, Jecka (from a young age) picked up these habits (like smoking and drinking and looking good all the time) and cant get rid of them. But when her mum is sober, or trying to be, she is actually an alright mum, like jecka can tell her about school, about some drama she leaves stuff out of, they paint nails, or just sit at the table talking, and she genuinly really enjoys it because again, she really loves her mum and hates to hate her.

Hopes her dad kills himself

She drinks monster quite often with Nicole if they can’t get any alcohol (or they mix it w it for a fun kick) and her favourite flavour is pink or watermelon. In my silly British au Ive made up in my head (pls ask abt im dying), she drinks the winter edition, watermelon and any pink version of redbull, because the can is pretty.

She doesn’t really know what she wants to be when she’s older, so she’s picked something like a nurse or surgeon for now. Honestly I never really think about it like that because my favourite version is some random version of the meth eaters au.

Is actually quite artsy. She isn’t like art GCSE artsy, but she can draw more than a stick figure. She likes drawing herself a lot, because she thinks shes gorgeous (we love a self confident queen)

Anyway so some more angst ones (idk how deep these will be so tw??)

She’s always being catcalled, even from a young age and sometimes she fucking hates it, it makes her feel disgusting and gross, except when she’s thinking late at night and she’s laying on her side sobbing her eyes out because she feels so ugly and she fucking craves being catcalled because then she knows she’s pretty enough for that :(

Is constantly being sexually harassed, and again like the last one, it makes her want to vomit and make herself look ugly but when she’s crying at night wondering why she can’t be prettier she remembers it and relishes in it. It means shes pretty enough for that. It means shes a skinny, pretty, stunning bitch.

She does struggle a bit with eating and how she looks, mainly because bitches like Jeffery will see the slightest stomach roll that everyone gets from sitting down, and be like “ewwww wtf is that’ and start crashing out. Things like that make her feel so self conscious

Shaves all over everywhere incase one day she gets r4ped and she won’t look ugly.

Originally, her parents weren’t gonna get her braces, until she begged on her knees, crying, shaking etc for them because she felt so insecure about her teeth (they were a little bit wonky)

Her mum installed some really, really damaging mindset into her, so now she had this toxic routine to keep herself “pretty”

Her upper thighs are different colours to her from scars

She was never allowed friends over for sleepovers during middle school and elementary school because neither of her parents could stay sober past 6pm. They would have screaming matches (including breaking stuff) at last mindnihgt.

Her fake tan is kinda blotchy and you can smell it from a mile away

Her birthday is April 8th (same day as my irl bby ❤️)

She does frequently self harm on her thighs, and a few times on her wrist, but it’s mainly from pulling hair, over exciersiing etc)

Her red tube addiction is actually seriously bad. It’s mainly from sexual trauma she’s gotten from family members in the past.

Snes so bby Icl . There’s def more Ive forgot about somewhere.

Edit 1: Forogot to add shes a quarter Swedish, a quarter Dutch and the rest American cus no one talks about it enough

The Mir ski lyric is her, and the cats r her and Nicole

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

I'm on vacation with my dad this week, and tonight, I showed him the movie Peacock Season, which I bought off Go Faster Stripe. It's a movie about the Edinburgh Fringe Festival, and my dad is interested in that sort of thing. He and I have bonded over comedy since I was a kid, and he likes hearing about the festival, though he's never been to Scotland. He also likes independent movies and things, so I figured he'd have fun watching that. And he did.

The movie has a storyline about the major comedy awards at the end of the festival, which they don't name but are clearly meant to be the Perrier Awards (not called that anymore, and in fact weren't called that even in 2009 when this movie was made, but it's those awards). So I explained to my dad what those awards were, why every character in the movie is making such a big deal about them.

I also explained to my dad the context of why it's funny that they cast Adam Hills to play the character of a comedian who's jaded from many years of performing at the Fringe, who warns the main character that it gets deeply demoralizing to care more and more about things like whether you win those awards. I told my dad that this is funny because in real life, Adam Hills was nominated for the Perrier Award three years in a row - 2001, 2002, and 2003 - and never won it.

The movie also had the main character perform at a rowdy late-night show that was clearly meant to represent Late 'n' Live. So after the movie ended, I told my dad what the actual Late 'n' Live is, and then, since my hard drive was still hooked up to the TV from when we used it to watch the movie, I showed him some clips from my Late 'n' Live folder to demonstrate the "real-life" version of that thing from the movie.

Guys, I showed my dad Cowgate. I made my father watch the entire Cowgate video. I told him that it's interesting to watch in the context of that movie, because it features Adam Hills, performing in a late-night Edinburgh show for real, after seeing him play a character in a movie who did the same thing. I explained to my father that this was filmed on the final night of the festival in 2003, the night after the Perrier Award ceremony. When Adam Hills had been nominated, for the third year in a row, and had lost, for the third year in a row. This year, he'd lost to Demetri Martin, who'd won with his iconic If I show.

Demetri Martin, of course, appears in the Cowgate video. He takes the cow apart while Adam Hills narrates the whole situation via an improvised song. One of the lines in that song is: "Martin, Demetri Martin / The Perrier win has left me smartin' ". I explained to my dad that this is a reference that Demetri Martin had just beaten him in the award ceremony that was probably just a day or so before, and that's the thing that was featured in the movie, and it's cool to see it come up in real life.

Then I watched Cowgate with my dad. And because I was seeing it with that context fresh in my mind... well, it's been a while, hasn't it? It's been quite a few months now since the last time that I decided to comb through the Cowgate video to try to pick up on some extra detail, or clue that might tell me what the fuck is going on in it. I think I'd come to believe that I'd wrung out all the ideas I could get out of that video, there's nothing more to pick up on.

And yet. I come to you tonight, Tumblr, after yet another re-watch,

In case anyone is reading this post without context, here's the video in question, which I've named Cowgate:

I would like to draw your attention to 2:47 into the above video, as Adam Hills starts his song. The meaning behind those first couple of lines in the song have been a mystery to me for a long time, I've frequently posted on this blog to wonder what they mean: "If you had three chances, would you take 'em, or would you quite literally, bottle it?"

I have always assumed that those lines must be referring to the Cowgate event in some way. These lines are the main cornerstone for my theory that maybe this wasn't the first cow-destroying attempt of the night. Maybe they'd tried two other times, and it hadn't worked, and this was their last try. Hence, "three chances". There is some other supporting evidence for that theory, such as the fact that they seem to pick up weapons that were just lying around the stage, as though they'd been dropped there earlier.

But there are several problems with that theory that I've not been able to adequately resolve. First of all, that wouldn't be good planning. Cowgate was the finale of the night - if they had succeeded in an earlier attempt, what would they have done for the finale? And if they'd failed on two previous attempts, they'd probably have already learned that those things are surprisingly hard to break, and they wouldn't have used a third attempt as the finale. Because they'd have reason to believe they'd probably fail again, and failing to destroy a cow isn't a good finale to the final Late 'n' Live of a festival.

I thought that maybe, if there weren't two previous attempts, when Adam Hills says "three chances", he could somehow be referencing the fact that three people ran on stage to take the cow apart. Maybe they were responding to an audience challenge to see if they could destroy the cow with only three people? But that doesn't fully make sense, for a number of reasons, the main one being that no one seemed to consider it cheating when Kitson jumped in partway through, making it four people.

Those lines seemed so significant, though. Again, watch that video at 2:47. Adam Hills mentions "three chances", and that gets a big laugh from the crowd, and he puts his head down as though this is messing with his head. The he gets up and says, "Would you take 'em, or would you quite literally bottle it?" And he sort of emphasizes the word "literally", as though there really was something literal in the way something was getting bottled. I assumed he meant that they might figuratively "bottle it", by trying to destroy the cow and maybe giving up at the last moment? But it sounds like that statement had some double meaning, like literal bottles might also be somehow involved? I can't tell.

However - obviously, watching that scene with the context of Hills' Perrier nominations in mind, it sounds different. I think that maybe earlier in the night, before that video clip started, he was complaining to the crowd about how he'd just lost the Perrier Award for the third year in a row (which he then referenced again during this song, "The Perrier win has left me smartin"). So that's why the audience laughed so hard when he took Eminem's song about having "one chance" to achieve your goal, and changed it to be about having "three chances" - and still, three chances weren't enough to win. Hence putting his head down in disappointment during that laugh.

I'm still not sure what "bottle it" means, even in that context. Maybe he'd talked earlier in the night about how he performed when the judges were in, that his show wasn't good enough that night because he'd "bottled it" somehow? I'm really reaching here, just trying to come up with theoretically possible explanations. But overall, it is a significant revelation to re-contextualize the beginning of that song, as Adam Hills not talking about the Cowgate mission at all, but about his own comedy career. So that probably destroys my theory about there being two previous Cowgate attempts, earlier in the night.

Anyway. I then showed my dad the recent Bugle clip, of John Oliver and Andy Zaltzman answering Lee's @lastweeksshirttonight question about Cowgate, to further contextualize it for him. And that clip had John Oliver mentioning DO'D crowd surfing, so of course I had to also show my dad the Kitson/DO'D rap battle clip, to say that this was when DO'D crowd surfed, and I think John Oliver was conflating the two. Then I showed him the video of Andy and John answering my question about the CMG, just for good measure. So my dad's up to speed on the Cowgate situation now. That's good.

[sforzesco]

hiii so. i really really admire you because of the depth of research you put into your art (even as someone who tends to fall down deep research holes i'm in Awe) but also because of the art itself - and i wanted to ask if you had any recommendations for someone who wants to get better at drawing? (books to read, things to do?) especially for figure drawing as you have (to my untrained eye) one of the best balances of style realism and naturalness and in general just overall make some of the best art i've ever seen methinks

this is really high praise, thank you so much!

as for art advice and recommendations for getting better at drawing, I 100% believe in carrying around a sketchbook wherever you go. if the pressure of having nice pages is something that bothers you, get a stack of sticky notes because you can cover up mistakes and re draw over it immediately, and squares of color will add some fun to a page later when you flip through everything.

ideally, I think there's a balance to skill building and having a good time, and I tend to split my own sketchbooks between life drawing (frequently I'll draw windows I think look neat or my morning coffee) and doodling shit for fun. I try out a lot of different styles and draw a lot of nonsense just because it felt like a good time. I do a lot of edward gorey type stuff because the line work process is comfy.

one way to go about doing this is to pick a direction (so to speak) that seems interesting, and build along side it! when I first decided I wanted to take art more seriously, I started looking up pictures of renaissance statues and drawing those. trying to draw those. it took a long time to get my art to look anything like a bernini statue, but I had a lot of fun learning that I really enjoyed drawing hands! comics are another good one, naoki urasawa's work is fucking genius level to me, I regularly revisit monster and do studies off of literally everything he does.

(I also keep a separate sketchbook for figure studies. this is mostly because I really enjoy drawing the human figure, this is very relaxing for me personally: I rotate between doing gesture drawings, contour drawings, and longer anatomy studies)

finally, I have found reading books on art history to be critical in my own process. so much about art history will tell you how to convey a million words into a singular composition. idk how much of that will be of interest or help to you, but I personally found it helpful, especially in understanding how to read things visually, which in turn helped me figure out how I wanted to tackle drawing something

and! two books I've found invaluable for anatomy were george bridgman's constructive anatomy and michael d. mattesi's force: drawing human anatomy, although I might recommend morpho's books above them now, like oh my god morpho is so good.

OH the other thing. this is something I picked up from when I was taking an animation class in art school, but sometimes I'll put on a movie or show I really like and do thumbnail studies of the frames while I watch. there's a lot to learn in a frame! shapes are important. god I love shapes.

[power-handmaiden]

what I want to (re?)gain from reading all these tinglers.

Long ass personal ramble below because this is my blog where I ramble about things now

I used to draw all the time and even longer ago I used to write and at some point I just stopped because I got hung up on whether I was "good" at these things things or whether it was a waste of my time creating such "trivial" things rather than art with "meaning" or maybe of I should be spending my time on more "useful" skills. Why write if you're just going to write gay fanfiction? But when I tried more "serious" things to "develop my skills" and also do things like proofread and edit, it just wasn't fun anymore and the hobby was dropped. Drawing lasted longer and I never dropped it so completely but I think smartphones put a damper on it. Once we all got little Google machines in our pockets I was never just out somewhere doodling freely, there was always the option to look up a reference, to draw the thing Correctly, and then time would pass where I was trying to find a picture of a ram's horns at just the right angle, and my number at the DMV would be called or whatever else I was waiting for would demand my attention and I would never even set my pencil to paper in these moments when I used to doodle.

I also felt like I could never express sexual ideas as much as I wanted to because of the "quality" of my work. Making "bad" art was one thing, everyone in the learning process does that, but sharing "bad" sexual art? Well, everyone on the internet forums I frequented was *justified* in reposting their art to mock them and linking to their online galleries for passersby to point and laugh personally, I thought at the time. How dare they be horny and express it in an appropriate adults-only space without mastering their craft first!

There's a lot holding me back. I deeply miss drawing and writing. I miss how freely I used to be able to just do them without the mental block telling me I need to run certain steps for Quality when I never did intend to do these creative things as a profession or anything?

Why is it so easy to sit down and "waste time" playing a video game or scrolling the internet, but so hard to spend the same amount of time drawing something for fun?

here's where Chuck Tingle comes in. He is someone who just DOES IT. This is the writing of someone who is not overthinking the process like I am when I become too paralyzed to create. And, I cannot stress this enough. IT'S SO GOOD. I LOVE IT SO MUCH. So much fun, joyful art has come from a process that I had convinced myself was something to be reined in and feared. The free act of creation that I'd convinced myself was nothing if I didn't learn to refine it into something "respectable". Ideas that would definitely not have passed a committee vote but make the process of reading all these stories one after another so exciting.

Even when I hit the occasional one like today that doesn't hit well anymore, it's evidence of someone who was creating from the heart, in the moment. Weirdly, they make me feel that yearning even stronger, with the knowledge that I know I'll love future stories.

I still haven't gotten there yet but I hope the love I find in these stories eventually breaks down the mental walls I've built and makes me feel free again to DRAW SOME GODDAMN LESBIAN FURRIES.

[prismatoxic]

I know you've been having oc brainrot recently, (which, fucking epic btw I just now found out about those guys and they're really fucking interesting too) I was just wondering if you had anything sitting in your brain about promises to keep specifically, something about them that you just can't stop thinking about? Or a thing you really enjoy about their dynamic? Even something completely unrelated to chilaios that you always think about. I'd rlly love to hear abt what makes you tick!

this is such a nice ask wtf

glad you like the sillies, they fill my brain with worms. but as for ptk and/or chilaios...

i do still rotate ptk in my mind fairly frequently, and was actually re-reading it recently so try and get back into the headspace for it. (i got to chapter 4, i have to get back to it soon.) i do have a variety of disorganized thoughts about it

i've been deliberately drawing out the sex stuff, obviously. to tell you the truth i'm not someone who's beholden to realism; i chose to have them actually work their way up to penetration, and actually realistically negotiate the daddy kink, because i thought it fit the tone of the story and would draw things out in a satisfactory way. it also gives me time to explore the different ways their inexperience manifests, show them learning each other's bodies and desires, and explore chilchuck's view of his own body and his relationship to his gender via sex over a longer period of time.

which brings me to another part i put a lot of thought into--chilchuck's gender! i am a fan of a lot of interpretations of him, both cis and transmasc in ways other than what i've been writing. i have plans for at least one fic where he's post top surgery and on T. but i chose to make him pre-everything in ptk for a few reasons, and i'm honestly really pleased with the portrayal. some things i haven't gotten to mentioning yet are that half-foot names are considered unisex (not a headcanon i always go with, but i am fond of it), and he did voice training after he came out. it was more accessible than, like, hormones, at least back in kahka brud, and then he ended up pregnant anyway which delayed doing anything. eventually he decided he didn't really need any of it, anyway. (sorry to deprive everyone of tdick chilchuck 😔.) i like exploring his dysphoria, where it exists versus the many places where he's moved past it, his relationship to sex as a trans man and his concerns about a gay cis man wanting him... while i do insert some of my own experiences into the narrative, chilchuck's transgenderism does manifest in several ways mine doesn't, and it's really fun to figure out what makes sense for him.

speaking of things that are fun to figure out: worldbuilding!! i was told early on that the casual inclusion of "the dungeon age" as a phrase was a really genius method of suggesting the state of the world without exposition, and it very much went to my head, lmao. i do exposition every so often, but only when someone in the conversation doesn't already have the information. so laios explaining monsters and their history, and chilchuck explaining the social structures around half-foots and the differences between kahka brud and the northern continent, are easy ways to try and build on the world i've made--make readers see my vision--without it seeming too out of place. i do hope i'm doing that well, i worry about it when i'm not being subtle, lmao.

other than that--i've set up several plot threads i intend to follow through on later. i really enjoy calling back to earlier things, big or small, and using them in ways people might not expect. (like chekov's plastic wrap from chapters 3 and 10. sorry, chilchuck.) i also thought of a new one while rereading that i think will slot into the narrative nicely. it's going to be a fun ride!!

i hope any of this was interesting :')

[issie-https]

𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐍 - 𝐒𝐋𝐈𝐏𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐓

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐬𝐢𝐱 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐧.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Mentions of kidnapping, mentions of injury and Sid mocking your moans.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 1116

𝐀/𝐧: HALLO! Im currently sick so uploads might be more frequent for the next couple of days. MAY OR MAY NOT!!

NOT PROOFREAD‼️

I woke up in Chris's arms, his mask was slightly off centre and I could see his lips.

"Stop staring," he groaned as he sat up.

"Wasn't staring, I have fixated eye syndrome," I said.

"Mhm, sure," he grumbled.

He got out of the bed and walked over to the door, "come on."

I furrowed my brows but followed him despite my grogginess. He took my wrist in his hand and pulled me towards the kitchen before pointing at a seat, "sit."

I did as I was told, guaranteed, I felt somewhat safe around Chris but I still didn't know what any of them were capable of if I didn't obey them. He opened one of the top cabinets and pulled out a first aid kit.

"Couldn't you have done this in your room?" I narrowed my eyes at him.

"Mick told me he wanted to show you something today so it's better if I do it in here," he shrugged.

"Any heads up on what it is?"

"All he said was he wanted to show you something."

I just nodded and held out my hands to him. He removed the bandages and took a look at them, the swelling had gone down and the bruises had gone a different colour whereas the scabs and cuts were very visible but completely fine.

"You won't need them re bandaged but go careful," he said as he put the box back in the cupboard.

"What happens if I don't?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Attitude," Mick warned as he entered the room, "you need to go get dressed."

I turned to look at him, he was just wearing his mask and a pair of black sweatpants. Me on the other hand, I was still wearing Chris' boxers and shirt. I got up from my seat and shuffled my way through the halls until I reached an open door, I peered inside and saw Sid sat on a roof swing while flicking through a comic.

"Has that one got words, Ivy League?" I smirked.

"Fucking Christ, you scared me," he placed his hand on his chest, "only a few but you said it counts."

I rolled my eyes then studied his room from the door, "you just gonna gawk at me or invite me in?"

"Wanna come in?" He offered.

"Yes, thank you," I replied and sat on his bed, "do you know where Mick is showing me today?"

"Nope. Did you have fun last night?" He smirked.

"What do you mean?" I avoided eye contact.

"Please, Chris. Fuck me, Chris," he mocked me with a laugh.

"Shut up!" I gritted my teeth at him.

"Fuck, ahh~ Chris," he continued his mocking.

I got up from his bed and started to walk towards the door, "wait, Y/n don't go. I was just joking."

"Mhm."

"I'm sorry," he said quietly.

I stopped in my tracks and walked back into his room. I one again looked around, my eyes landing on a sketchbook on his desk, "can I see?"

He nodded and went back to reading his comic. I flipped through the pages, some had drawings of flowers, some had drawings of bugs while others had drawings of... body parts.

"I'm a boob guy," he whispered in my ear.

"Stop doing that!" I gasped and swatted his chest.

"You like them?" He asked pointing to the sketch of boobs.

"They're very real looking, I'll give you that," I nodded slowly.

He rested his head on my shoulder, watching as I flipped through the pages. His arms held my waist tight, I could tell he just wanted some comfort — and I didn't blame him because I did too. However, our wholesome moment was cut short by Mick calling my name.

"Mick needs me but I'll be back," I waved to Sid.

I ran down the hall before running directly into Mick - who was now wearing a plain black shirt- "where were you? And why haven't you changed?" His blue eyes bore into my soul, staring into me as if he wanted to know more about me.

"I couldn't find my room," I replied shyly. I'm not gonna lie, Mick scared me - he was at least six foot five with black hair and blue eyes. Every time he looked at me, his eyes held one emotion — what emotion it was was hard to determine without seeing the rest of his face. It could be anything from hatred to admiration or annoyance to lust.

"It's just down here," he replied, grabbing my arm and leading me to a door with so many fucking locks on the outside.

"What should I wear?" I looked up at him.

"There should be a knitted sweater in there, so wear that with anything," he said before closing the door behind me.

I went over to the closet in the corner of the room and opened it to find a few of my clothes from my house and some clothes I hadn't seen before and amongst all of them was one knitted sweater. I grabbed that along with a pair of mid-rise jeans and my favourite Converse shoes.

"Im dressed!" I yelled to Mick on the other side of the door.

He let me out and held my wrist tight, pulling me towards two big wooden doors.

"I thought I'd take you out to the garden today, Clown gave me the green light to," he said, this time, a smile was evident in his eyes and slightly on his lips from what I could see.

I also smiled, for the first time in what felt like ages, I was finally allowed to go outside.

From the second I stepped foot outside, I didn't want to leave. I could hear the birds, I could see the sky and the minimal clouds, I could smell the fresh rain that must've fallen the previous night and most importantly of all, I could feel again. I could feel like a human and not just an object that had been stolen, I could feel... feelings again — happiness, anger, contentment and fear. "Look here," Mick said as he dragged me - again - towards a flower bed.

"Are these your flowers?" I asked while inspecting all the different kinds.

"Yep, all of us got to add a couple pieces to the house that we thought you'd like and I chose these and something else you'll see later," he replied.

"Mick, they're lovely!" I beamed as I hugged him tightly.

I could tell he was unsure about the hug but he nonetheless hugged me back, rubbing soothing circles on my back with his thumb.

Once again, our sweet moment was cut short by someone yelling our names.

[misc-obeyme]

Hi! I'm terribly sorry for bothering you, but I would like your thoughts if you don't mind!

I'm having a hard time enjoying my own writing. I genuinely think it's terrible, and that anytime people say it's good, I think they are lying. I really try and like it, but most the time I end up not liking it. I would not say I'm a good writer, but I'm not a bad one; just somewhere in between? If that makes sense?

I want to get better at writing, which takes practice, and I was wondering if you had an advice possibly?

Thank you for your time 😊

Hello there!

No worries, you are not bothering me at all! In fact, I quite like talking about writing, so anyone should feel free to ask me such questions!

Now, I'm not sure if you're looking for advice on how to get better at writing or advice on how to not dislike your own writing. So I'll kinda talk about both since they tend to go hand in hand.

First and foremost, I totally understand the feeling you're describing and you should know that you are not alone! This is by far the type of thing people ask me about writing most frequently. Is it normal to not like your own writing? How do you overcome it? Do you ever get to a point where you feel like your writing is good?

It's really difficult to tell how good your own writing is. You're always going to see it differently because you wrote it.

How you should perceive your own work depends on your reason for writing. I tend to assume people here are writing fanfiction for fun. In that case, the best thing to do is to judge your writing based on how much fun you had writing it. If you enjoyed writing it, then it actually doesn't matter if it's good or bad. You wrote something, you had fun, and you gained experience about how to write while doing it.

It's like playing an instrument. You have to practice a song in order to play it. You aren't going to play it well the first several times you try. But you can still have fun playing, even if you play badly. The more you do it, the better you get, until you can play the song well. And you had fun the whole time.

Writing is the same. You write bad stuff continually, getting better and better each time, until eventually you're writing good stuff. The key is to have fun writing the bad stuff. (Or at least, what you perceive to be bad, which is never as bad as you think it is.)

How to get better at writing in general aside from practice? Read.

Read the kind of writing that you want to get better at. For instance, if you want to write mystery novels, read mystery novels. If you want to write novel length fic, read novel length fics.

But also read about how to write. Read books about how to create scenes, how to develop characters, etc etc. Find blogs of writers you admire and read through all the writing advice they've posted. Listen to podcasts about it, watch youtube videos, basically find any kind of writing advice out there and consume it. You don't have to actually do any of that stuff. But it will give you things to try and might also give you your own ideas for writing methods that might work for you.

The more knowledge you have about the craft of writing, the more you have to draw from when it comes to doing it yourself.

For what it's worth, I almost never re read my own fics. For me the fun is in the writing, not the reading. I trust the reactions of people on tumblr far more than I do my own thoughts on it. If someone here leaves me a single reblog with comments in the tags, I consider that fic a success, whether I like it when I read it or not.

It gets easier with time, but that feeling never really goes away. You just learn to challenge it and question it. Because it's never accurate.

I hope some of that helped! Please feel free to ask me anything you like, I'm happy to talk about writing all day every day lol!

Good luck with your writing! I believe in you!

[imagine-knb]

Hi can I request a matchup :)

My nickname is Ibti, female pronounces are she/her.

When I'm surrounded with people that I feel comfortable with I can be loud, outspoken and goofy, but with people I just met or don't feel comfortable with yet I can be reserved and quiet.

My likes: Jonathan Joestar 🤣🤣🤣, food, trash reality tv

Dislikes: Bugs especially spiders and bees (have a huge fear for both lol), people who behave like snakes

My hobbies: Gaming, watching/reading anime/manga, drawing

Team preferences: GOM + Nijimura captain 🥺, Seirin, Rakuzan, Kaijō, Vorpal swords

Type of Romance

Strangers to Friends to Lovers

How You Two Met

Before Kiyoshi healed enough to begin playing basketball again, he often frequented stores that sold books, playing cards, and the like. On a whim one day, he decided to go through the manga section and that's where he walked into you.

Literally.

It wasn't until after he'd apologized and you walked away that he realized he recognized you from class. After that day, he made it a routine to find you at least once throughout the day to say hello.

"Ibti-san!"

You startle as a loud voice interrupts your thoughts, nearly dropping the book in your hands. Looking up from the pages, you notice the guy from the day before — Kiyoshi Teppei — entering the room with a wide smile on his face. He's waving at you, walking directly into your bubble.

"I knew I recognized you from yesterday. It's good to see you again."

How He Fell For You

Initially, Kiyoshi thought it was just in your nature to be softspoken around people and he didn't mind it in the slightest. When the two of you would hang out at first — his insistence, not yours — it was more often than not that a quiet game of cards was played. Or perhaps he'd ask you about the manga you were currently reading, always curious what you were up to and making polite conversation.

As things naturally go, you would eventually open up to his presence more and reveal more of your outgoing nature. It came as a surprise to Kiyoshi the first time you began joking around with him, showing more of your sillier side. But it's that slow burn of getting to know you better that has him falling, though he doesn't realize it at first.

His confession was actually an accident.

"You're always fun to be around, Ibti-san," Kiyoshi says behind laughter, the joke you had previously told him still bouncing around in his mind. "I really like being with you."

The way he had phrased it doesn't go over your head and it makes you pause to look at him. At your silence, Kiyoshi also goes quiet, re-evaluated what he'd said. It dawns on him then all the feelings he had for you that had been building up.

Tentatively, he repeats himself. "I really do like being with you. Could we do it more?"

What a Relationship with Him is Like

He's really good at reading the room, despite his own lax nature about certain things, so he's quick to realize when you're uncomfortable or shy around strangers. Thankfully, he's a naturally outgoing person no matter the situation, so he's often the one talking for the two of you when new people are involved.

He's the type of boyfriend to want to make sure you're taken care of, so if that means chasing away a few creepy crawlies even if he thinks they're not a big deal, he's gunna do it (though he might tease that you'll have to be the one to chase away any rats).

He takes interest in your hobbies and likes, though he might not understand a few of them, and he hopes you'd do the same in return.

"My grandparents wanted to know if you'd like to come over tonight?" he asks you one day, scratching at his cheek while he gave a sheepish smile. "That show you all like is on tonight, right? They wanted to watch it with you."

The way he seems to have a slight pout to his lips and furrow to his brow tells you that there's more to his request. When you press him to continue, he gives you a hopeful smile.

"Well, I was hoping maybe afterward I could show you how to play some games with my hanafuda cards? I'd like to spend more time with you, too."

Match Up Requests are Closed

[henrysglock]

finally got the time to read chapter 3 of ptolemaea…. MISTER NIFTY AND MISTER NEAT JSKSBSJSNS CRYINGGGG SOBBING

Bob and henry have my whole heart I love them so muchhhh and young Scott is exactly how I’ve envisioned him, I also love how u write henry in regards to his trauma n how it can warp your perspective of situations, I relate so hard to how he downplays or twists things in his head because of what he’s been thru like being excited by hearing that Scott liked him to deciding it must just be fascination or something and settling on that. And I like how u don’t hold back w him still being triggered by the actions/words of ppl who have good intentions, that’s v real. And his pang of fear at the mere mention of doctors, also v real.

I felt it IN MY SOUL henry would take to sleeping in an oversized t shirt that’s why I always draw him it one !!!! I started kicking my feet when I read that

THE WAY I GASPED WHEN THEY WENT TO THE LIBRARY AND READ THE EDWARD TIMELINE PAPER DJSKSNS not bob calling it all a big coincidence lol

I also just love the small touches of references from the show like Henry’s insistence on “it’s not safe” and a bunch of others I noticed while reading like that

The pacing of it all is rlly satisfying too Im so intrigued

<3<3<3 shsksnsj

THEY'RE A PAIR!!! DO NOT SEPARATE!!!

The Bob-Henry dynamic has been so fun because like. Bob's in kind of this Steve-like role? Where he's a teenager himself but he's just got this kinda batshit kid attached at his hip and he has NO idea what the hell is going on. but he's here for it 🫡 Which is kind of akin to his role in ST2. Mans has NO idea what he's getting into, but dammit he's going to be helpful!!

Young Scott is my sweetie pie pookie little guy. He's got so much enthusiasm. He's dramatic and a little over the top sometimes which...looking at the dramatics he uses in canon as an adult? Yeah. 15 year old Scott feels like an absolute goober of a kid. He puts so much energy behind his interaction with Henry, it's just natural for him to. He's kind of puppy-like in that way; he charges forward with so much enthusiasm, only to realize a bit later that he may have come on a little strong and that he needs to be a little gentler. He's learning how to interact with Henry in a way that isn't overwhelming, but he's doing it without framing that change as burdensome (like we see with Max in canon, when she corrects him on her name and he just goes with it like it's no big deal). I adore him. He's such a good kid.

Young Henry has been a joy to write honestly. There's a delicate balance between capturing the fact that he's just some snarky teenager and having that trauma come in with a steel chair every once in a while. Because like a lot of the time that's how it is with trauma. Henry's got baggage, sure, but it's not everything all the time. He can still be and think about so many other things outside of his experiences in the lab. It just means his perception of himself is a little warped and certain settings/phrases make the hurt kick up a little dust.

Like that's how trauma goes! It's the lights going on in the foyer, something Bob doesn't think twice about re: the Creels, and Henry being hit hard with the last time he was there. It's Henry having a nightmare about something that was done to him, or a mistake he made that had disastrous consequences, and that turning around to color his self worth, making him go from expressive and present to completely shut down in a matter of seconds. Like you said, it's Bob with the best intentions (Bob, who's 100% correct), trying to get him to see a doctor for his concussion and him getting snappy about it out of fear.

And that's something that follows Henry, too, into adulthood. His mother still haunts him. Brenner still haunts him. The self-esteem issues still haunt him. It all just happens less frequently/with less intensity. It never goes away, he just...gets used to it. He gets better at pushing it away.

But anyway moving on!! Yes!!! He's such an oversized t-shirt guy. Personally I was thinking about that John Mulaney bit about the ghost of the little girl vs him in the too-big sleep shirt, because that's SO Henry. (Was there ever a ghost? Or was it just me all along?)

And okay like. As one of the main timeline theorists on this hellsite, I had to include my baby Edward in here somewhere. Yes, he is going to be plot important. It may or may not end up being canon compliant. We'll see how it fleshes out!! But yeah Bob doesn't know what he's getting into lmao he's seeing the Surface. Hell, even Henry doesn't know what's going on with that, but he knows that every "coincidence" has something more to it, even if he doesn't know what that something entails.

Okay okay and finally. I'm a slut for direct references to canon. Henward/El/Will are all canonically very similar to each other, it's just that they're shaped by differing circumstances. That is to say, 15 year old post-lab Henry would react to things in a mixture of El and Will: shoving hurt down/turning it inwards while also taking matters into his own hands and refusing to let others help. So...I would die before missing chances to make references!! (there's also a Robin-Steve reference, in chapter 2, I think, about being friends with 15 year olds pfft)

Gougjhfghjf I'm so glad the pacing is coming across alright!! I have No idea how long this fic is going to be so I'm just. writing how it comes and seeing how far it goes!!

<3 <3 <3

[snowmuttgetsweird]

12/6/24, witching hour

About to put my Snorlax to bed. I have Pokemon Sleep- if you wanna add me, feel free, I've got room for a few more: 6817 7349 5163

I've been sick the last couple days. I was sick just, like, last week too, but I got over it pretty quick and was just coughing, but then the cough got worse so either I never stopped being sick in the first place or being sick and returning to work too fast with a compromised immune system re-sicked me right away. Either way, I've felt like shit the last few days and didn't have a voice the last two, so I had to call out of work and get someone to cover my shifts. Hate that, would really have liked to have those hours. Starting to feel a bit better today, hoping after a good night's sleep I'll be right as rain and ready to work tomorrow.

Otherwise I've been drawing, reading, playing some mobile games, replaying Hollow Knight in small doses, and catching up on some movies and shows. Finally saw Logan, which was pretty good and made me cry (wish all the Marvel movies could have real emotional impact instead of back-to-back one-liners occasionally interrupted by CGI action sequences), then watched Deadpool and Wolverine, which was just okay by comparison (see above).

I was walking by the book store a few weeks back and noticed Absolution, Jeff Vandermeer's new book in the Southern Reach series, was out on hardback. I had completely forgotten about it. Ran in to (hopefully) grab the paperback real fast but it's not out yet apparently. Waited a few days but I started getting anxious without a book to read after having finished my previous book (The Archive Undying, little Pathfinder novel I think called Prince of Wolves, and What Dreams May Come), and ended up scooping Gideon the Ninth on a coworker's recommendation.

REALLY fantastic read. I absolutely fell in love with Gideon the Ninth, I've already read and finished Harrow the Ninth since, and I'm now waiting for a copy of Nona the Ninth to ship in from another location at my local discount book shop. Hadn't been so prepared and excited to move on to a sequel since I played Bravely Default for the first time- during which time I purchased Bravely Second BEFORE EVEN FINISHING THE FIRST GAME and immediately jumped into it the second I was finished with the first. Sadly, I hear Bravely Default 2 is a train wreck. Shame.

Harrow I didn't love as much as I loved Gideon. It may have been a purposeful and thematic thing, but it felt like a lot of the characters had very little agency and the story just kinda happened at them. Having just recently come off of The Archive Undying though, I really appreciate the use of second person perspective, and I greatly appreciate the extra look into Harrowhark's life and mental state. Ianthe is an absolute delight the moment she walks in the room too, every time. The way they play off each other is incredibly fun in their antagonism. That said, the second book overall, while still great, feels like a big ol exposition dump and feels like it answers a lot more questions than it asks, unlike Gideon, which doesn't really make me as excited for the next book because there's less for me to chew on and extrapolate. We'll see where Nona the Ninth goes.

Besides that I guess my offhand distraction has been Pokemon Pocket TCG. As you know, I love trading card games. Pocket is an excellent little time sink to scratch the TCG itch when I can't get anyone to sit down and play Digimon with me. I can open packs, I can build decks, I can play whenever and wherever I want. The events give you plenty of time to complete and acquire everything, and you don't have to spend a single cent to do so (outside of a handful of cosmetics). If I have any complaints it's that I hate coin flips, which is a problem in Pokemon in general. They're a little too feast or famine for my tastes, especially cards like Misty and Aerodactyl that can turn the tides so severely that they frequently make the game unwinnable. The only saving grace for coin flips in Pocket is that the games are so quick and streamlined that you don't really get the sunk cost effect as a full TCG- that disappointing feeling of having worked so hard and built your board so perfectly, and then losing it all to sheer luck. Anyway, overall great experience. Very fun, pretty casual, not all that sweaty, and looking forward to future sets to release- I'm already stockpiling hourglasses to rip a bunch of packs right off the bat as soon as a new set comes out. :)

Uhh I think that's it. I can't begin to describe how excited I am to get Nona the Ninth- I bought Gideon, I borrowed Harrow (I'll scoop a paperback of this later), and I'm getting Nona from a local discount bookshop- and I'm vibrating waiting for Absolution, which I forgot was even a thing. The whole rest of my set is paperback so I feel like Absolution has to be too, and so I wait. :')

Gonna try to sleep now I think. Snorlax beckons and I'm hunting Sneasel. :)

[redfish-blu]

An Open Letter to the Danger Days Tumblr Community:

Now that you’ve read that overdramatic title and are wondering who fucked up, I have something to say about the Danger Days Tumblr community: I Love You.

Danger Days was the first fandom I ever posted for on any site. All the way back in middle school (ho-ly shit). And let me tell you what I found out even way back when: this is not an easy fandom to be in.

For one, most people don’t even know it exists. For two, even less know it in the way it’s been cultivated on Tumblr. Almost every single person has such a niche interpretation of every little detail, that it’s impossible to draw a line through any two versions of the story. Which is a fact I personally love, but I also think it scares a lot of people away. You have to work to be in this fandom. Both as a passive and active fan. It requires patience and tolerance for disappointment.

But that’s exactly why I want to encourage everyone who creates and everyone who listens to Keep Doing That. Like I cannot stress this enough, that is what keeps this fandom and IP alive. Danger Days as a universe would be absolutely nothing without fan work (re: the California Comics), especially a decade later. Without fans who care about this story way more than it has warranted us to care, it would be six feet under. And sometimes I really think that’s what it deserves (and maybe the writers think that as well), but for the life of me I just can’t let that happen. I’ve tried to let this fucking thing go, believe me.

And funny enough, that exact feeling is evidenced by the community on this site too. Which has changed faces almost completely from what it was three years ago for better and less better in some cases. And it’s something I still struggle with adjusting to, but I look at the tag daily. I look everyone’s posts and blogs and art and effort. If you have posted even once in the dd tag my eyes have 100% seen it. So even if I still feel a little out of place, like a ghost of fandom’s past, at least I know everybody. And I know people feel the same way: No rest for the wicked.

When I reanimated from my fandom coma I was fully expecting to find that the community had gone extinct. Partially because all the blogs I used to frequent had straight up died in the three years I was gone. But I pulled up to the gates of the Danger Days tag like Rick Grimes outside of Alexandria, fully expecting to be devastated, only to find New People tilling the fucking field. And it didn’t matter that I now had no idea who any of you people were, it was The Most welcoming thing ever.

I’ll be the first to tell you this fandom bares almost no resemblance to the one I left, and I’m not going to lie and say it’s better now, but the foundation didn’t get blown away in the storm. That’s what I find uniquely profound. That everyone here still wants to try. And that makes me really want to try. And I’m sure everyone would agree that there is often little reward for the effort; but that’s precisely my point in saying all this shit. That even despite the not fun aspects, we all still clock in; and there’s a new post, headcanon, drawing, or fic every freaking day. It’s commendable, really.

If you’re lurking, or post sometimes but feel afraid to actually take a leap here because (the fandom is comparatively tiny to the greater MCR fandom) you’ll be way more out there, and the already established figureheads of the fandom will definitely see your stuff: post post post. This is my formal endorsement to Just Post That Shit. And Interact With That Shit. I spent a year gathering the courage to publish the tiniest thing while behind the scenes I literally wrote about 60+ works. You have to respect your own creativity and trust that other people will give it the time of day.

So do not feel crazy or discouraged about your ideas here! Like we literally need them to function, I would not be here if it wasn’t for all the people three years ago who just posted all their thoughts about Danger Days. About everything. Obscure or not. It’s truly a gift that this fandom has attracted people who are willing to work their brains because the original creators let it fall flat. I cannot tell you how much being in this fandom has actually helped me out in my writing and analysis skills.

So yeah. I fucking love this fandom, I love being in it and I love seeing that people are still stoking the flames. I wanted to say all this crap because I knew I’d be able to articulate it for the people who can relate but don’t want to be the first to say it. Which is okay, understandable. As I said earlier this fandom is like yelling your thoughts out into a very echoey room that only has a few people in it. So I’ll shout first and maybe it’ll make other people more comfortable to shout back.

[bakapandy]

BakaPandy’s FAQ

Hi, I’m Pandy, welcome to my tumblr! I thought I’d make a little post about me and some frequently asked questions I get. Please read this before sending me an ask!

ABOUT ME

Who are you?

I’m BakaPandy, but you can call me Pandy! Pronouns are she/her/hers. I’m 27 years old and I draw for fun or whatever catches my fancy.

Where are you from?

USA

Do you draw professionally?

No, I draw as a hobby. I work in the medical field.

(While I’m glad people are interested in what I do, I’d rather if you don’t ask me questions about it as I would like to keep my professional life private and separate from fandom)

How did you come up with your username?

I was a 11 yo weeb in the 2000s - early 2010s where everything had “baka” or “kawaii” or “sugoi”, etc. The name bakapandy stuck from way back then and has become a bit of a brand and changing it is just too much effort. 

How can I support you as an artist?

I have a Ko-Fi!

Reblogs are always the best. And feel free to comment! I love reading comments, replies, and tags. They always make my day.

Unfortunately, I don’t have the time to take commissions, but I do appreciate any sort of support!

ABOUT MY ART

Do you take commissions or requests?

Currently, no. Since I have limited time to draw because of school, I’d prefer to spend it drawing something that I want to draw. I do read suggestions and ideas if they end up in my inbox but I can not promise that I will draw it. 

Where did you learn to draw?

I’m self-taught. Lots and lots of admiring other people’s work and practicing a ton.

When did you start drawing/How long have you been drawing?

I’ve loved to draw all my life, but I got invested when I was about 10 when I truly dedicated time and effort into improving. So I guess it’s going on 17 years now.

What do you use to draw?

I use an 11in iPad pro, apple pencil, and Clip Studio Paint iOS

I’ve previously used a Wacom intuos, but switched over to the ipad pretty much exclusively a couple years ago

Can I use your art for my profile pic?

You can use my art for icons, phone and desktop wallpapers for YOUR OWN USE ONLY without asking me, though I’d really appreciate if you’d credit me if you use it in a public domain. 

Can I share your artwork on other sites?

No, please don’t repost my artwork anywhere else. You can always link to my blog or the page of the drawing (if there’s a thumbnail involved that automatically generated, then that’s fine), BUT PLEASE DON’T RE-UPLOAD ANYTHING. Share my work with whatever function is given to you on the site (reblogs for Tumblr, retweets for Twitter, etc.) so that it comes DIRECTLY FROM ME. I really appreciate your cooperation for this.

Can I translate your work?

The ONLY exception I make for reposting my artwork is for translation purposes. I don’t require you to ask me, but I would you appreciate it if you did. I’d also love to see it! 

PLEASE DO NOT REMOVE MY SIGNATURE AND PLEASE CREDIT ME AS THE ARTIST AND AUTHOR IF YOU DO. 

Where else can I find your art?

I have a Twitter and Instagram

FANDOM RELATED

Will you ever draw Free!/sourin again?

Honestly, I don’t know. I loved Free! and SouRin for so long but my creative energy for them fizzled out and I just don’t have anymore ideas...maybe when I finally see Final Stroke, I’ll make something?

Who are your favorite Naruto characters?

In case you couldn’t tell from my art content, I love the Sand-Nara family. Gaara has always been my favorite since I was in middle school.

Who do you ship with Gaara?

No one. I headcanon him as aro/ace.

What do you think about Gaara ships?

They’re not my cup of tea but people can ship what they want. Go live your best lives.

What about Boruto ships?

I don’t ship the kids. I just like them all being cute and friends. 

Recently, though, I got into Konohamaru X Log lmao.

Please note that Log is an adult and I consider him separate person to Mitsuki. I do not ship or endorse KonoM*itsu in any way, shape, or form. They are not the same people and have entirely different personalities. 

Do you have ANY ships in Naruto?

Pretty much only ShikaTema is the one I’m the most invested in. I follow along with the canon ships (e.g. NaruHina, SasuSaku, ChoKarui) but I have no particularly strong feelings for or against them.

Other ships I enjoy in passing: KakaGai, NejiTen, SaiIno, NejiLee

Do you have a Naruto OC?

I have one OC and her name is Kotori, and she’s Shinki’s daughter haha. She’s a joint OC with my friend @bichobolitagaarashusband

Usually though, I prefer to stick to canon characters, relationships, and dynamics

Do you not like Naruto OCs?

They typically don’t really interest me so I don’t really engage with them. But people can do what they want and I’m not going to criticize them for it. I have Kotori and tbh I really only interact with one OC mostly bc he belongs to my friend haha

[bogkeep]

hiya! hey! welcome to my bog! my name is

Theodore Haiz Heartsword-Thyme

but you can just call me Haiz, really! i'm the bogkeep around here, so let me know if you need anything!

🍄 twitter | bluesky

🍄 toyhou.se (overview of my OCs)

🍄 Ao3

🍄 Ko-fi (tip jar)

🍄 Etsy (art originals)

🍄 linktree

🍄pronoun cards: EN | NO

🍄 reblog sideblog @longlostpath

About Me, This Blog, And Frequently Asked Questions Under The Cut:

🌿 BEFORE WE DO ANYTHING ELSE WHAT ARE YOUR PRONOUNS??????

in english i mainly use they/them and he/him, lately with a preference for They!

i'm also vibing with ey/em/eir, it/its, and No Pronouns

my preferred norwegian pronouns are dem, han, and nøkk/nøkken/nøkkens

when it comes to gendered terms i prefer gender neutral + gently masculine terms, or terms used in a gender neutral manner. i don't like to be strongly gendered in either direction, and i don't want to think about my own gender more than neccessary!

the best way to describe my gender identity is Taurus II by Mike Oldfield hope this helps

🌿 WHAT THE HECK IS A BOGKEEP

it's like a barkeep but for bogs! this particular bogkeep seems to be a mix of nøkken, huldra, vodník, and possibly a changeling. maybe a cat? i wouldn't worry about it

if i look human that's just glamour. we live in a society and all that

🌿 WHO'S THE BOGKEEP?

hi i'm haiz nice to meet you. you can also call me theo or teddy or dori if you'd like <3

officially in the 30+ age bracket

i'm norwegian and czech !

i've been many things, such as an art history student, a children's book illustrator, a volunteer for queer organizations, a hotel receptionist, And Many More. most recently i've been a watchmaker student. i hope to be even more things in the future!

unicornkin but my fursona is a hare

i love to DRAW and sometimes WRITE and i have a lot of FEELINGS ABOUT THINGS

🌿 CAN I USE YOUR ART FOR -

headers/icons/digital decoration?

- yes! just please credit me somewhere. anything that's just fun personal use and not in any way profiting off of my work is a-ok! in fact i am flattered and honored

tattoos?

- please ask me first! a lot of my work is of OCs, commissioned, or otherwise very personal - so it's a case by case decision!

real life wall decoration?

- i do have a redbubble, but it's a little limited in scope - mostly because a lot of my work is fanart of other people's property. if there's something i've made you want to see on there, let me know and i'll see what i can do! as for fanart - i'm honestly okay with people printing their own prints for their personal blorbo shrines or whatever, as long as it's not for profit! if you contact me i can even share a hi-res version of the art with you ;3c

anything AI- or blockchain related?

- nope! any use of my work in this context is without my permission.

🌿 WHAT'S THIS BLOG FOR?

this is my personal blog where i post my art! i also post Thoughts and Feelings when the urge strikes me. you can't really get one without the other sorry

i post both Original Work and Fanart. the fandoms i dabble in tend to be a little obscure, but if you're reading this, chances are you've found me through one of them. thank you for enjoying my work <3

i also post photos sometimes. i love the sky and the world around me

i've had this blog since 2011/2012! it's a bit of an archive. i don't mind if you root around in the old stuff, just keep in mind that it's old!

sometimes i reblog unicorns as they are a Personal Motif of mine, but pretty much all other reblogs go to my sideblog, @longlostpath

i have two other sideblogs - one for funky fashion and the intricacies of having a body @ishallwearcosmos

and a sky blog @whentheskydoesthething

🌿 WHAT ARE THE TERMS AND CONDITIONS?

this is my personal space and i decide what goes on here.

i block the following: people who engage in bad faith, people who disrespect my humanity or that of my peers, people acting awful or annoying on my posts.

anonymous asks are turned off. if you send an ask you don't want me to publish, just let me know!

i don't mind DMs, but please tell me what you're messaging me for upfront instead of just saying "hi" or "hello". if you're just looking to chat, bring a topic to the table! i do not have it in me to do the heavy lifting for a conversation i did not choose to have.

i do my best to tag common triggers but i cannot promise 100% consistency.

likewise, i do my best to write image descriptions for the art i post, but due to personal inacessibilities it's a little sporadic. i write them in the alt text when i do.

i have no wish to publicly participate in the Discourses. do not mistake this for neutrality or a lack of principles. i enjoy good faith discussions but i prefer to have them in private.

🌿 WHAT ARE YOUR BELIEFS THEN I SIMPLY MUST KNOW

i feel very strongly about inclusion, compassion, boundaries, personal growth, the vast diversity of human experiences, the right to safety, autonomy, dignity and the inherent imperfection of being a person.

it's none of my business how people describe themselves or their experiences. they know better than i do what is true for them.

there is no one single experience that is exclusive to one demographic. solidarity above endlessly splitting hairs over semantics.

english is not the only language. western culture is not the only culture. tumblr is but a sliver of the earth's total population. the world is really really big and complex.

you can't do Everything. you're only one person*, you've only got one body. some things are within your powers and many things are not. (* unless you are plural, but sentiment still stands.)

self-flagellation does not lead to growth and betterment (unless it's a kink thing for you, in which case, have fun). i believe that if you really desire to change something, finding the things you can do is much more productive than punishing yourself for the things you can't.

i hope it goes without saying that i believe exploitation, slavery, genocide, and oppression in its many forms is Bad.

i believe in striving for a world that is better and kinder to all its inhabitants.

i believe in learning and listening and thinking through why you believe what you believe. learning about the structures we live and partake in will grant a greater understanding than just repeating rote phrases you've been taught are the correct thing to say.

many people speak impulsively from a place of pain and trauma. many people react from a place of pain and trauma. i am not excluded from this. i find this useful to remember when perusing the internet.

i am not immune to propaganda. you are not immune to propaganda. moral panics are easy to give in to.

the internet is never going to run out of assholes with bad takes.

for my fellow prisoners of the Brain Spiral: breathe. there is ground beneath your feet. it's okay to just exist.

🌿 WILL YOU COMMISSION ME/PROMOTE MY THING ON YOUR BLOG/GIVE ME MONEY?

nope! please don't ask me to.

🌿 I DON'T LIKE YOU BUT I CAN'T TELL YOU BECAUSE ANON IS TURNED OFF :(

you can blacklist my handle in your settings. be free. live your best life. you'll never have to read my annoying ramblings again...!