#deogee

Their first impression of your muse: Autism2autism communication. Kind of butch? They were grateful Deogee kept Rowan away when he obviously wanted to bother them.

Current impression:  About the same.

Are they attracted to your muse?:  Nooooo, im fairly sure?

Something they find frightening about your muse:Deogee's very intense and it can be a little alarming.

Something they find adorable about your muse:  Their propensity for dressing up.

Would my muse sacrifice themselves for yours?:  No

Would my muse go on a date with yours?  platonic/romantic:  Yes! either tbh. Amanita likes deogee and spending more time with someone who struggles with verbalness would be nice.

One word my muse would use to describe yours:  Fierce

Would my muse slap yours if they could?: No, no desire to hit the deogee. That's a rowgie game.

[ id: sofi holding up a very long, autism creature version of deogee and showing them off in multiple directions ]

@norikwrites - deogee

“Just, just one more sip,” said Nat. They kicked the door to their apartment closed as they followed Rowan’s movements; they were too far away to swipe it, but they lunged anyway. The two swerved and danced around one another, dodging, diving, until Rowan discovered the couch had scooted up right behind their legs and sent them sprawling ass backwards. Still, they didn’t let that stop them; they kept scooting.

“I’ve been learning, from Deogee. They’ve been teaching me to keep what’s mine.” Sniggering, Rowan popped the top on the champagne bottle with their thumb and took a healthy swig as they tried to fend Nat off with their legs. Nat, though, was faster, and Rowan squeaked as the bottle was snatched away from their lips.

“That’s a steamy load of shit if I ever heard one,” Nat said as they plopped down on the couch.

“Bitch.”

“Bastard.” Nat took a swig. It had long turned warm, but it went down smooth, bubbly sticky and sweet. They offered it back to Rowan, waggling the bottle to entice them. “Last sip, just for you.”

“So generous.” Rowan reached for the bottle, but Nat pulled it back out of their reach.

“Ah ah ah~“ They wagged their finger, but then let themself fall between Rowan’s legs, wiggling and scooting until their head was comfortably rested on Rowan’s stomach, just under their ribs. With a content sigh, they said, “Okay, now, now you can have some.”

“Give me that, you fucking, you fucking drunk,” said Rowan, snatching the bottle and downing it as Nat giggled. It really was only a mouthful left. Swallowing, they peered down at Nat. Arm dangling off Rowan’s side—and the edge of the couch—fingers tapping the floor to an unheard rhythm, knees bent and rocking side-to-side. They were as restless as ever. Rowan tossed the bottle to the floor.

Tilting their head back to peer at Rowan, upside down, Nat asked, “Hey, Rowan? Why don’t you ever talk about Deogee? Like, never.”

Rowan snorted. “That’s easy. They’re a private person; they hate people up in their business. Oh, and they hate you. Obviously.” He gestured to all of them, as if that explained everything.

Nat groaned. “Ughhh, why does everyone hate me? I didn’t even do anything to them.”

“You dated this hot bod,” offered Rowan, grinning, as they stretched their arms above their head.

Nat elbowed them in the ribs—“ow!”—then sighed. “Aren’t you tired of it? Everyone, hating you, and being mad all the time. I am. Everyone was always mad at us.”

Rowan shrugged and swept their hand broadly. “I am who I am. A bastard.” They grinned a bit. “Besides, it’s fun.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t always used to be that way. C’mon.” Nat tilted their head back again to peer at Rowan, frowning slightly. “It doesn’t ever bother you?”

“Nope.”

“Mm… I’m calling bullshit.”

“No, I’m serious, it’s—how’s that stupid fucking phrase go—people who, have a mind? I don’t fucking remember. If it’s not a friend, who gives a shit what other people think? Nothing matters more than the crew—did you fall and hit your head after you left?”

Nat rolled over, folding their arms over Rowan’s ribs so they could look them in the eye and say again, “Bullshit.”

Rowan snorted, loud disbelief, and crossed their arms.

Nat smiled. “You’re different, Rowan, you know? The Rowan of five years ago would’ve chased me into a bathroom to jump me, not apologize. And Nimrod?”

Rowan sniffed. “Don’t think I could recognize someone useful?”

Nat leaned in—Rowan could smell the champagne on their breath—as they repeated, “Nimrod.”

“Nim is—“ Rowan’s protests were cut off by Nat putting their hand over Rowan’s mouth, and Rowan’s eyebrows dropped, deeply unimpressed at being silenced.

Nat just giggled. “‘S not a bad thing to change. You still like me.”

They lifted their hand as Rowan started struggling to get up, leaning back onto their knees to give Rowan the space. Rowan poked their chest accusatorially. “You, you just got me drunk to drill me. Harlot.”

[ id: a two panel comic with deogee and jeremy standing next to each other. ]

deogee: sleeves. knives. jeremy, concerned: don’t you mean cards? deogee, pulling out a knife: no. jeremy, looking worried:

[ id: a doodle page of jeremy. a fully detailed drawing is on the left, and then beside him are a variety of drawings. Jeremy with his welding tools, Deogee telling him to go into the dark, chilling with a drink, going to the beach, having a snack, hanging with his rats, messing with jay, playing the drums, climbing a metal slculpture, and sitting on xander’s lap. /end id ]

sofi time sofi time sofi time!

guest appearances by deogee and sky ( @hellonorik ) and deka ( @vaguewhisperings )

post apoc designs!!! knocked another off the bucket list. also relative heights. (12/26/21)

first 4 are mine, last 2 belong to @hellonorik

Kissie time!!!! Poses referenced from a meme.