#anyway yeah was doodling size comparisons and my brain was like. what if

[blaiddraws]

what if i put my dragon OCs into the same continuity. what if it forced me to make up worldbuilding for how the vague scraps of their stories would fit in the same world. what if.

[darkspine10]

Dipcifica - Top & Tail

Top & Tail (4129 words) by darkspine10

Chapters: 1/2 Fandom: Gravity Falls Rating: General (but full version is Explicit) Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Dipper Pines/Pacifica Northwest Additional Tags: College AU, Awkward Sexual Situations, Banter Summary:  Dipper and Pacifica are forced into a tight situation on a college trip. Sharing a narrow single bed, sparks will fly, and both of them will try to overcome the other.

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For an upcoming extended version, featuring NSFW scenes, see the AO3 version of the fic :)

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"This cannot be allowed. There must be some mistake."

 Dipper rolled his eyes again. That must be about the twentieth time she’d said it. Pacifica was now pacing back and forth, getting more and more wound up.

 “I mean, how does this happen? The college booked the trip months ago!”

 “I guess there was just a mix-up or something.” He shrugged, knowing it would do little to calm her down. That wasn’t Pacifica’s way of doing things. She’d complain all evening if she thought it would fix a bad outcome.

 “But it’s outrageous! Making us all share rooms, that’s one thing, but this…” She stared unbelievingly at the narrow bed in the middle of the cold hotel room. “It’s barely big enough for one of us! And they expect us to share?! I did not sign up for co-ed roommates.”

 “No, you signed up for skiing and sightseeing, am I right?” He stretched out on the bed, tired from the lengthy flight to Helsinki and wanting nothing more than to end this debate and go to sleep. “If it’s too much trouble you could always sleep on the floor.”

 “Yeah right,” Pacifica shot back, tapping her boot on the solid wood. She pressed down on the mattress, testing the softness. It was decent enough, she supposed, but not nearly big enough to fit the two of them. Not like she was planning on actually going through with that. “Maybe I can go switch rooms or something.”

 Dipper sat up in the bed and faced her. “No offence, Pacifica, but don’t think you’ll get many volunteers.”

 Since leaving for college the rich girl had made few friends. Away from home her family’s influence had no effect, so her cold and domineering nature ended up isolating her from most circles. Dipper was actually one of the few people she cared to hang around with, simply because he was someone familiar. And the generally socially inept Dipper hadn’t complained about having someone talk too, since he too was a self-admitted loner. Pacifica was intelligent, he had to admit, and though they often sparred, they tolerated each other well enough. It was at least brighter company than spending all his time alone or visiting his sister.

 “We sat together on the plane,” he added, trying to explain himself. “I think the professors just assumed we were fine going in the same room.”

 Pacifica, in the process of taking off her expensive high-heeled fur boots, pointed a bare foot daintily at the bed. “Well I am not fine sharing that.”

 “Yeah, I remember you have problems with ‘Shar-ring’,” Dipper enunciated teasingly. He didn’t see what the whole issue was anyway. Shrugging again, he lightly pushed her foot away with one finger, not failing to notice the pink nail polish and recent pedicure. "We can just top and tail. I used to do it with Mabel on trips all the time."

 "Yeah but you're siblings. And weirdly close ones too." She eyed the bed contemptuously, as if she could intimidate into suddenly sprouting a second copy of itself. Exhaling deeply, she finally threw up her arms in defeat. “Fine. Whatever. Now help my unpack the rest of my stuff.”

 “I’m not one of your servants, Northwest. Lug your own case in.”

 “Ugh, you’re trying my patience, Pines.” Dipper didn’t budge, smirking at the fact that she already knew he wasn’t going to move a muscle to help her. She ducked back out into the hallway, then returned dragging a cumbersome, bright pink suitcase on its rollers.

 When she’d originally arrived at the college in the early hours of the morning, where they were waiting for the coach to take them to the airport, she’d astonishingly had four more cases of varying sizes. He’d delighted in watching her agonise over which stuff to leave behind when she found out about the limited cargo space on the flight. It made his single small backpack fell downright spartan in comparison.

 Pacifica finished shifting the case into their room. Her attitude was still sour, as evidence by how she was staring down her nose at him, incensed that she’d had to put in physical effort for once.

 “What do you even keep in that thing?” Dipper asked, with a mixture of highlighting her absurdity and genuine curiosity.

 “I have standards, Pines, you wouldn’t understand. Just cause the only thing you ever bring with you is that dumb journal of yours. And that.” She pointed to his chest, where a bulky polaroid camera hung down from around his neck.

 “What about my camera? My course is all about that after all, you should expect me to actually like photography. I know your concerns are above those of us poor ordinary people but have some common sense.”

 She sidled over to him and examined the camera closely. It was clear she wasn’t impressed, and let it hang back limply. “I think you spend too much time taking snapshots or writing in that book. You need to live in the moment more.”

 “Unlike you?”

 “Yes, unlike me,” she replied indignantly. “Architecture is a serious profession, not a distraction like whatever you get up to”

 “Bet you just use it as an excuse to waste time doodling though.” He shook his head. “Anyway, back to the point, I like to travel light. Less junk to weigh me down. Not like I need much, only the bare essentials.”

 “Which I notice doesn’t include any bathroom products.” She wrinkled her nose at him. “Ever heard of personal hygiene?”

 “I don’t like wasting time in the shower, ok? I let the natural cleansing properties of water do the job.”

 Pacifica laughed uproariously at him, and even Dipper had to agree he was reaching somewhat to justify his laziness. “Oh, that’s a good one Pines. You’re borrowing some of my stuff tonight, that’s a requirement.” She unzipped a section of her case and offered it to him. “Take your pick.”

 Bending over to look inside, he saw a selection of dozens of interchangeable bottles. Hair gels, shampoo and conditioner for her long, blonde hair, body wash, she had it all and Dipper couldn’t tell which of any of them he’d need. To avoid looking like a complete fool in front of Pacifica, he just grabbed the first one at random and hoped it would suffice.

 He turned the bottle over in his hand, deciding that since she’d been uncharacteristically generous he should show some courtesy. "I suppose I should go wash. I did kind kinda sweaty on the flight. Especially since it looks like we definitely will be-"

 "Don't say it!"

 "-sleeping together," he finished obliviously.

 Pacifica rubbed her eyelids and tried to avoid her roommate’s gaze. "Ugh, don't say it like that. You make it sound like we’ll be... getting up to stuff"

 "Now you've lost me." He ignored Pacifica and pulled out his phone. Maybe his sister could translate the fancy French written on the bottle of shampoo and tell him what it was. As he was making his way to the en-suite though, he had the realisation of what exactly Pacifica had meant. “Oh, wait a minute! ‘Getting up to stuff’, you mean…“

 “Please shut up.”

 Dipper gave a short, sharp laugh. “You totally meant succumbing to my masculine charms."

 “Puh-lease, Pines. You’re about as manly as an actual block of wood. Like I'd ever stoop to your level."

 "Oh, I wouldn't deign to inconvenience you, Princess." He gave a mock bow, theatrically bending over and unfurling a hand to offer to Pacifica.

 “Don’t call me that!” She slapped the hand away. “This isn’t a joke; I have a reputation to uphold.”

 “And what? If people hear that a Northwest dared to even spend time in the company of a commoner? Shocker.”

 “You are such a dork.” Unfazed by his act, she shook her head and tried to finish her unpacking. “Please let’s just try to act like mature adults. We’ll get through tonight, then tomorrow, then whatever comes next. With a minimum of fuss.”

 “Hey Pacifica?” As she turned her head, she saw him in the doorway of the bathroom, camera raised and aimed right at her face. “Smile and say cheese!” The priceless look of shock and outrage he captured in her eyes made the photo a sure-fire keepsake for his collection. Getting through the rest of the night was certainly going to be an interesting ordeal.

 -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 Unable to sleep, Dipper tossed over in the bed once again, facing towards Pacifica. Somehow she’d fallen asleep in mere minutes. But for him, the cold air and tight space made it hard for him to relax and drift off. Then there was the problem of his companion.

 As he settled again in position, he tried to minimise his movements. Every time he made the slightest adjustment to the sheets, the rustling sound that resulted was like an atomic bomb going off. He could barely hear Pacifica’s breaths, they were so shallow, but any noise felt like it would wake her up.

 He tried to distract himself, to tell his brain that he was being irrational and to go to sleep. Stop overreacting, she isn’t going to suddenly wake up now, he should just accept the situation and not worry. That only made him focus more on the minute sounds of Pacifica’s breathing.

 He was hyper-aware of anything that might disturb her. Having to endure a rant about disturbing her beauty sleep was the last thing he needed. They had to be up early tomorrow to go with the group on a daytrip to some island in the bay, staying up all night fretting was only going to make him tired and irritable.

 Then he settled on something in the corner of his eye. Poking out of the end of the duvet, Pacifica’s feet were exposed to the air. He noticed her nail polish, and how sharp her toenails were. He had no idea why anyone would care enough to put that much effort into prettying up their feet. Would be a big waste of time in his mind.

 A wicked thought ran through his head. Not sure if it was a smart idea or if he was just too sleep deprived to think straight, he wriggled an arm free of the sheets. One thing he knew about Pacifica was that she was incredibly ticklish. The lightest feather touch could set her off laughing. He could reach out and do it right now.

 Maybe it would be satisfying to get some payback for all the teasing earlier? It might be worth it merely to see the look on her face; she did always have the funniest over-the-top reactions. He couldn’t deny the desire to give her the taste of her own medicine. See how she feels when she’s forced awake in the dead of night. After that at least he wouldn’t have to worry about making too much noise.

 Hovering over the sole of a foot, he prepared to apply the gentlest caress possible. His fingers brushed against her skin, then in an instant her entire body shook with a thunderous force. A burst of awkward laughter erupted from her lips as she jerked awake. Dipper chuckled to himself but regretted it moments later.

 Pacifica’s feet shot out, reacting to his tickles. Her lovingly pedicured toenails, sharpened to razors, rammed right into his eye sockets. Dipper cried out in pain and fell backwards out of the bed. “Holy shit! My eyes!”

 Pacifica, finally free of the uncontrollable spasms, flicked on the bedside lamp, and turned an accusing gaze at Dipper, sprawled out on the floor. “What the hell did you just do?!”

 A hand clutched to his face, he muttered, “Still getting over being jabbed by your talons, that’s all.”

 “My what?” She wriggled her toes, then angrily curled them up under the duvet. “You are such a jerk. What did you think would happen?”

 “Hey, at least I made you laugh.” He winked, but the joke went down like a steel balloon under her steely gaze.

 “Get back into bed, dummy. Some of normal people us are trying to sleep.”

 “No way, nuh-uh,” he protested loudly. Jumping to his feet, he pointed to the head of the bead. “I am not sleeping opposite those weapons anymore. I’d like to not go blind, thanks.”

 “Ugh, if you’re gonna be such a baby about it…” Pacifica’s head disappeared under the covers, then there was a noisy rummaging. Her head showed up again at the opposite end of the bed. “You really wanna do this Pines? Cause I can handle your immaturity up close.”

 Cautious, Dipper climbed back into bed, face to face with his upset roommate. He pulled the covers over so both their bodies were snugly pressed together under them.

 “Happy now?”

 “Sure, it’s just a little… tight.” They both blushed at the implication.

 Pacifica’s eyes darted away from his. “Now, go to sleep Pines. And don’t make me regret letting you back in the bed.” Her eyes closed again, preparing to resume whatever dream had been in progress before.

 “Nighty night… Princess,” Dipper couldn’t help but snigger.

 Pacifica let out an angry groan, but kept her eyes resolutely shut. She was trying to get back to sleep but her breathing was heavier than before. Dipper knew she wouldn’t easily fall asleep again while she was annoyed at him. He closed his own eyelids for a moment, but as before couldn’t find a way to peacefully rest.

 A shiver ran up Pacifica’s body. He thought at first he must have accidently skimmed against her, setting off her ticklishness again. But then her body shook again, and he realised it was simply cold. Despite the temperatures outside being so low, and the room providing little insulation, she was only wearing a thin pink sleep shirt and cotton shorts. Her bare legs felt frigid up against him.

 Her bare feet suddenly stood out as a glaring aberration. Realising that she must have left her warmer pyjamas in one of her other cases that she’d had to leave behind, he felt slightly guilty towards her.

 “Hey, psst, Pacifica.” He didn’t get a reply, so lightly tapped her side with a finger.

 “Shh.” She kept her eyes resolutely shut and pulled her pillow over her ears. “Go to sleep, Pines.”

 “I wanted to let you know, you can borrow some of my winter socks if you’re cold. I packed spares, it’s the least I could do for you.”

 “I’m not taking handouts from you, I’m fine as I am,” she said, despite clutching the covers tighter to herself. That was Pacifica’s way, she would rather freeze that concede any weakness.

 Dipper still felt bad about her situation, so tried to come up with another option. “We could huddle together? You know, like penguins, combine our body heat?”

 Pacifica begrudgingly opened her eyes. “Do you want me to smother your face with this pillow?”

 “I was only trying to help,” he muttered irritatedly.

 “Yeah, well don’t. I can look after myself. I’m not some helpless damsel. Now: Go. To. Sleep.”

 She was about to try yet again to close her eyes, but Dipper suddenly blurted out something. “Unless you’re still afraid of getting up to stuff with me?” There was a small red glow on his cheeks, but he had a determined smirk nonetheless. “Face it, you can’t stand the thought of me lying here next to you.”

 “Oh, now it’s personal.” She lined herself up, so she was staring eye to eye with Dipper. “First one to blink loses. We’ll see who chickens out first. That’ll show you which of us is intimidated by the other.”

 “You’re on.” Intending to take her on and win, Dipper adjusted himself so he was comfortable, then stared deep into her sapphire eyes. She did the same, turning her piercing gaze upon his hazel eyes. Locked in opposition, they steeled themselves to outlast the other.

 They’d often played this kind of game before, competing in minor ways to annoy each other. Seeing who could answer the most study questions in a set time or dinging the other if they were ever late to classes. Pacifica’s competitive streak was a mile-wide, drilled into her by her parents’ mandate to always overachieve, while Dipper didn’t like to tolerate her smug superiority complex. That meant that on average the pair usually ended up drawing in their small victories.

 Dipper realised he’d been staring at her eyes for some time now. Neither of them had budged yet. Though his eyes stayed wide open, they drifted somewhat from Pacifica’s as he started to waver slightly. As his gaze fell upon the copious amounts of dark purple eyeshadow she wore, his thoughts started to drift too.

 Who wears makeup to bed? Like her neatly kept toes, what was the point if nobody would see her this way? Her was hair though, that was one aspect of her appearance she seemed to have lost control off, messily sprawled out. It was a rare glimpse at seeing her in a halfway dishevelled state.

 A whiff of her shampoo floated past him, carrying the strong, sweet scent of champagne and roses. Hyper-awareness of his surroundings returned, but this time it was more about Pacifica than his own movements. They were so close together; they could even feel each other's breaths intermingling in the small space between them.

 Wheels turned slowly in Mason’s mind. Perhaps it was the tiredness from the flight and being kept up all night, but he felt like he was running in slow motion. But as he stared and stared at Pacifica’s face he became more and more captivated by what he saw.

 This was ridiculous. It was Pacifica Northwest for crying out loud. The most self-centred person he’d ever met. A pampered sorority brat who constantly argued with him. Now though, in the dim light, an odd sensation rose in his chest. A sensation of desire. He had the urge to lean forwards, to bridge the minute gap between them…

 Maybe he was drunk off her hair or something like that. That could be the only explanation for why he was suddenly overwhelming drawn to the girl lying opposite.

 “What’s the matter Pines? Losing your nerve?”

 Shit. It was like she’d read his mind, easily figuring out his mood had changed. He couldn’t hide the crimson blush flooding across his cheeks or the thin layer of sweat starting to form. She raised a single eyebrow to express her insight, making him crumble like tissue paper.

 “I- uh- that is to say-“ He gulped, hoping she’d think he’d given up and would declare herself the winner of the little contest. Anything to get her out of his head. Deep breaths, Dipper, he forced himself to remember. “I was just distracted by something, ok?”

 “Oh.” Instead of the expected reaction, she too blushed now, though as with all things kept a better level of composure. Actually I was kind of distracted too.” This caught him off guard. What about him could she possibly be interested in? Then he saw her gaze wander upwards and he understood.

 “This?” He lifted his hair out of his forehead, slowly exposing his unique birthmark. The strange arrangement of spots that perfectly formed the constellation of Big Dipper. He sighed and rolled his eyes. “What, you think it’s weird or funny? Go ahead, make some petty remark, I can take it.”

 Pacifica frowned, thought not in an angry way. More like he was interpreting her wrong. “I’ve never really got a good look up close at it before, that’s all. May I?” She reached forward to touch his forehead, hesitating when he recoiled slightly. He didn’t have far to go in the cramped bed though, not if he didn’t want to fall out again.

 Relenting, he held up his hands. “I guess you can have a quick look. Why though? It’s just a rare thing I have, nothing special.”

 “I don’t think that.” Her hand delicately moved his hair aside. For second she halted, then he allowed her to continue and she stroked her fingers across the birthmark. Her touch was electric, sending chills down his body. No-one had ever gotten close enough to actually feel the birthmark. “It gave you your nickname,” Pacifica added, “that’s gotta count for something. ”

 Normally he hated when people noticed or talked about his birthmark. They would either react in horror or have a sort of morbid curiosity. Either way it marked him as a freak. Never before had anyone been genuinely curious and sensitive about in this way.

 It surprised him coming from Pacifica of all people. Sensitivity wasn’t her usual style. Maybe she knew something about intimacy and vulnerability though. In her daily life she put up a façade to most of the world, a mask that rarely slipped. Yet he knew underneath there were things she didn’t like sharing. Like keeping her videogaming habit to herself or getting embarrassed if people heard her singing. Safeguards to prevent her parents’ from discovering anything they deemed ‘improper’, most likely.

 He wondered why this was happening. Why she was acting more caring towards him, and why he didn’t mind having her enter his most sacrosanct personal space. Pacifica wasn’t the sort of the person who was easy to like. She was snooty and elitist and cold at times.

 She had flaws in her personality that people steered away from. Her biting wit, which he often clashed with, her competitive drive. To him those aspects didn’t seem so bad right now. They just showed that she was a quick thinker, somebody confident in her abilities and unwilling to back down. Qualities he admired.

 If she was willing to treat with him with such respect regarding the concealed oddity on his forehead, perhaps he was right to trust her. She'd consented to this sleeping arrangement after all. Despite all the pretentions, under the rough exterior she did consider him an honest friend.

 And what an exterior it was. The upside to her over-indulgences in beauty regimes meant that she had a constant dazzling appearance that often turned heads. The luscious blonde hair, her sultry lips, those sparkling eyes. Though she was tired and unprepared, even now he found her looks so enticing.

 Under the covers, his hand traced the smooth curves of her hips. As with her exploration of his birthmark, she didn’t protest at all. In fact, her hand descended from his birthmark to cup his cheek. The soft smoothness of her skin stood out, frozen as it was.

 The intensity of their close breaths was heightened like never before, as Dipper’s rate stepped up noticeably. His heart was beating faster and he felt nearer to Pacifica now. He fixed his gaze back in her eyes, then asked the obvious question. “What exactly is happening here?”

 A warm smile shone back at him. “I think, maybe… we both lost the staring competition.” Pacifica’s other hand grabbed at his chocolate locks, pulling him across the last, tiny gap separating them. Their heavy breathing was finally interrupted when he pressed his lips forcefully to hers. She seemed surprised by his boldness, but then leant into it, gripping his head close.

 Dipper’s pushed his way further into her mouth, and their two tongues wrestled and danced around each other. At last he came up for air, gasping for only a second before Pacifica leapt at him again. She rolled on top of him, freeing up space in the bed and tightening their budding connection. Dipper’s hands made their way to her hips, supporting her above him.

 Though he deeply desired to continue just as they were, kissing passionately, he had an impulsive idea. “Hold on Paz, just a second.” He laid her back down on her side, then groped in the darkness on his bedside table. She looked at him, concerned why he wanted to stop, then understood when held his polaroid camera aloft. “Smile for me, please?”

 He wanted to capture this moment, this tentative blossoming between them, to keep as a permanent reminder. Pacifica understood that keenly, so snuggled up beside him in view of the lens. A quick flash, and it was done, recorded on celluloid forever.”

 As soon as the flash faded, Pacifica snatched the camera away from him and put it away. “Now, enough of that. Where were we?”

 Side by side, the two previously reluctant roommates returned to exploring their new relationship. It was the start of something, a potential beginning that neither knew where it could lead. With their bodies squeezed up against one another, their hearts aflame, the cold atmosphere of the room would no longer be a problem for either of them.

[itsnotdavid-blog]

MY VILLAINOUS LAIR

TL;DR - I’m indecisive and I don’t know if I want to live in a large house surrounded by friends and family, or if I’d be better off hiding away in isolation inside some tiny, walled off excuse of a home. No to cars, yes to gardens. Fuck yeah, nature!

-

Nothing’s more fun than being tasked with writing a blog post for a class activity. To start things off, I’d like to apologize beforehand for this needlessly long wall of text. I don’t expect you to read along, and I certainly don’t expect you to remember all the itty bitty details, but I do want you to know is that I’m what the cool kids call extra. We were expected to draw one house and my stupid self ended up coming up with three. If that doesn’t give you an idea of what kind of person I am, then I don’t know what will. 

The question still lingers: what exactly do these houses represent? If there’s one thing I’ve learned today, it’s that all these seemingly insignificant little doodles form a bigger picture. Isn’t it exciting - a big picture made of little pictures? Like one big mosaic where each tile delves deeper into the myriad insecurities that stir within me. My inner optimist says it’ll paint something pretty, like a field of vibrant sunflowers, or a horde of zombies getting ravaged by a pack of fire-breathing velociraptors. Then again, there’s also the possibility of this picture taking the semblance of a donkey’s sphincter, or possibly even Mama June after a hot, sweaty yoga session. 

Either way, the picture isn’t what’s important. 

What’s important is that I’ve got three houses, each more pointless than the last, and it’s my job to figure out what these doodles mean. Even as the professor spoke and told us to put our pencils aside, I simply couldn’t keep mine off the paper. It was like there was this odd, supernatural force compelling me to finish what I started. But why? I don’t even put this much effort into waking up in the morning, so what’s gotten me to go full-ham on something entirely fictional and meaningless? The more time I spent on the drawing, the more I began to realize it was wholly unrealistic.

So I started again.

Scratched that one after five minutes. Too small, too unambitious. This one didn’t seem right to me at all.

So I started again.

Eventually I ran out of time, and was ultimately left with three unfinished houses; all distinct with little-to-no similarities save for the essentials. Needless to say, I was devastated. How could I fail something as simple as drawing a house? This was the unassuming sort of task you’d give to a five year old and I’m sure they’d manage to get it finished one way or another. I’ll bet their houses even have dinosaurs. Life isn’t fair.

The first house I drew was far larger than the other two - the perfect home for a less-than perfect family. There’s even a small patch of land in the back that’s dedicated to growing fruit and vegetables, it is fucking awesome. Despite the sheer size of the building, the rooms totaled to four, and that’s only if you don’t count the garden and the backyard. Think of it this way: if a house is big, you can assume it’s got a lot of rooms, and if it’s got a lot of rooms, it’s got a lot of space for inhabitants and/or guests. Generally, some of the more introverted people prefer returning to a lonelier home after a long day of work, faking smiles and chatting up people they’d never interact with outside the office. The last thing they’d want to deal with at home is even more needless social interaction. 

With that in mind, it wouldn’t be too much of a stretch to conclude that an introvert wouldn’t want to live with other people unless they absolutely had to. The second house drawn seems to represent this on a deeper level. Let’s pretend for one minute that there’s more to me than meets the eye. It’s not totally unreasonable to assume that a self-proclaimed introvert would want some company every now and then - there’s no shame in wanting to be alone, but that doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to enjoy spending time with friends and family. The two aren’t mutually exclusive.

Though it might not be clear, given my abysmal skill with architecture, house planning and all things creative, I poured a lot more passion into this house in comparison to the others. Even if I firmly believe that what other people think of me is none of my business, I still feel as if my appearance matters in some way. I’m all for sticking to the status quo but there’s no denying that I’m, as I said before, what the cool kids call extra. For better or for worse. 

It’s strange. I’d never admit it in person, I do actively try to distinguish myself from the crowd for whatever reason… but at the same time, I resent the attention that comes with it. It’s a hard duality to put into words, so you’ll have to pardon my inability to explain it. I don’t quite get it myself, you see. Even if everyone in the world’s special and unique in their own whimsical little ways, people are too busy concerned with themselves to notice this about others. It’s an easy to trap to fall into, perceiving someone as dull simply because they’re not good conversationalists; because their quirks are of the subtler sort and only tend to shine once you truly get to know the person. 

The tragedy is, people won’t ever invest enough time to see that side of them.

This is only highlighted by the sheer difference between this house and the two drawn after it. It could be argued that the first home - the larger home - represents the side of me that wants to be surrounded people, and stand out by towering over all the others. This is in stark contrast to the other two, which arguably fits the size of an apartment room than an actual house given its scale and lack of a second floor - a claustrophobic little hovel that’s more fit for a gremlin than a man. I’d imagine it’d be like living in a trash compactor. Don’t get me wrong, it’s good living. Doesn’t change the fact that you’re living in a trash compactor.

Still, I get the feeling I’m only scratching the surface and that there’s so much you can take from the size of the two houses alone. Maybe it represents my desire to live in isolation in my villainous lair, walled off from the rest of the world. Looking back on it now, there’s no way I’d survive in a house like that. I’d go insane, mainly because there’s nothing to do but also because I’m a bit of a claustrophobe. What was I thinking?

Just by looking at this house alone, you can already tell I’ve started to lose a bit of steam. There’s a reason why I don’t do interior decorating - it’s because I’m absolutely dreadful at it. Look at this. What kind of madman puts the bathroom next to the kitchen and not the bedroom? It’s hilariously inefficient, if you ask me. Takes a certain kind of idiot to come up with a house like this and even bigger one to want to live in it.

Bah! It just gets worse and worse!

If there’s something all three of these houses have in common, it’s a kitchen. Funny. You’d think the bedroom would be something I’d prioritize, but apparently food comes first. In all fairness, the only reason I didn’t include a bedroom in the first doodle was because I lacked the time. It’s strange though. I haven’t exactly cooked a proper meal since I moved here just a little over a year ago. Perhaps this the brain’s strange and subtle way of telling you to start cooking once again, though it’s also possible that my brain’s simply calling me fat. Either way, it capitalizes on my love of food. 

On the other hand there is something that all my houses lack and the only person I can blame for that is myself. There’s no fucking garage. Whether it was a simple overlook or a subconscious desire, it’s given me a lot to think about. I’ve never been fond of cars, and I’ve never exactly wanted to drive either so it’s only natural that there’ll be nothing in my house related to such things. Still, every family ought to have a vehicle. They’ve got to get around town somehow. Walking simply isn’t an option in this day and age, as fun as it sounds. Speaking of oversights, I’ve also failed to make any note of what house would look from the outside. All I’ve got is a top-down view: a simple outline that maps out where the furniture’s supposed to go. 

Not that I’d end up following it anyway.