I think I post/make less now because I’m actually pretty damn happy and so my escapism and drive to prove something has gone down. The only thing I’m unhappy about now is that I feel a little less talented and driven now.
I got a guinea pig. He doesn’t trust me yet.
Ah, I really don’t have anything to post. To be honest I’m not that productive lately and whatever I do manage to share is via instagram.
Hey guys, I don’t know how to feel about this fic anymore so here’s a draft of hat I have so far. I’m not sure if I should just make it a three parter or not.
Any suggestions,edits, comments, or whatever would be greatly appreciated.
“It’s been two weeks.” Norman said gritting his teeth and yanking a stack of DVDs from Dipper’s shockingly death-like grip. “I know I lied to you….sortta, but I thought we were, ….you know?”
Dipper puffed his cheeks and bent down to collect the DVDs that fell in the tussle. “Friends don’t withhold that kind of information.” He shoved the mystery movies into the romantic comedy section and flipped Norman off.
Norman sighed and began to re-sort everything out. “Jesus, Dipp….”
After a few more days Norman couldn’t take it anymore. “DAMN IT DIPPER!” He slapped his palms on the break room’s small wobbly table. “Just talk to me again.”
Dipper’s hands fumbled and he nearly choked on his sub. “What the fuc-c-c-ACK!” okay maybe he did choke.
Just a little.
And if that wasn’t embarrassing enough for Dipper, Norman had to give him the Heimlich maneuver. For a fleeting moment Dipper thought this must be what dry humping feels like- Then he promptly shoved Norman away. “STOP! Jesus, I’m okay….” He flushed with shame; catching his breath before noticing he shoved Norman into a stack of boxes. “Shit….”
To Norman, the days and weeks slugged on, becoming an indistinguishable blur. Dipper on the other hand, had marked the dates since they had stopped talking. (It’s been two days shy of a month.)
It wasn’t until they had to close together that they really started talking again.
"You know I thought we had a lot in common."
"We do." Norman sighed and set down the display he was supposed to set up. "Listen, I didn’t tell you who I was because I just didn’t want any problems at work, its just-"
"Why do you even have a job?" Dipper sneered. "Shouldn’t you be sipping wine with slam poets or something?"
"What do you think painters do, Dipper?" Norman shook his head. "I’m not really famous or anything.” He adjusted his pants. Eyes may have lingered, “It’s just dumb luck that what I do it kitschy at the moment, but shit…. when that fad ends I’ll be out of luck.”
Dipper squinted his eyes, “Yeah sure, whatever sellout.”
“Dipper.” Norman almost begged. “I just paint what I see okay. There’s nothing to it more special then that.”
Dipper raised a brow, “Suuuure, like you actually see dead people.”
“Well actually….. I do.”
I’ve noticed that I’m not good at making online friends anymore.
Well then, when you’re antisocial and lose THAT skill….well fuck.