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Prosper-the-XVIII
Wordslut
Artist | Hobbyist | Varied
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:iconuparrowplz: This means Scotland curse those stupid bastards for voting 'No'

The name's Edie. Prosper if you'd prefer. Can't be arsed with a description - if you wanna know about me, look at the stamps - it's why I put them there.



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Avalon Melrose by Prosper-the-XVIII
Avalon Melrose
Didn't take long, did it? :giggle:

Nailing down the specifics of Ava's features took me a while - her hair in particular. The combination of her features, and hair colour/length meant that a lot of the styles I tried out with her turned out looking a bit weird - almost ethereal, but not quite in the required way. She just looked like some sort medieval queen; pretty, but not the desired effect ^^; I absolutely adore the grey strands that frame her face, however :meow: I mean, she's going grey in a pretty flattering pattern, so she's as well flaunting it ;)

Instead of profiling her in the huge spiels I normally use, I had to do an RP form for her earlier, so I'll just post that here instead...

Name: Avalon Beatrix Melrose
Age: Somewhere between 34 and 37, depending upon who's asking (she's actually 41)
Gender: female
Pronouns: She/her
Sexuality and romantic status: Panromantic and homosexual; she has a girlfriend

Brief Background: As far as my characters go, she's very fortunate; no torture; both her parents are still alive and don't hate her; no traumatic love life. Just nice and average. She a very upper/middle-class upbringing; she was an only child; both of her parents were lawyers, and she grew up in Chelsea in London. She went into the Navy after leaving higher education three years into a medicine degree, and through this worked her way up until being offered an MI6 post at 24. She was demoted from her position as an agent after she broke her femur in a pretty bad way in a car wreck in the field, and then discovered not much later that she had osteoporosis, so the risk factors associated with keeping her active post were too high; she finished up with a shitty desk job as a personal assistant that basically involved sitting behind the aforementioned desk with a phone glued to her ear, which she despises. She met Evy through work when she was twenty-five and Evelyn twenty-one - they became romantically involved when they were both in their late thirties as Evelyn was in the process of recovering from her torture and divorcing her husband - it was intended to be a very lax, friends-with-benefits type of fling, but they finished up living together. She was never married or even in a committed relationship before Evelyn, and she's childless, though both of these were out of choice.

Appearance: She's about 5'7", and skinny, but simultaneously incredibly fit - slim-built, but she could probably crush you between her thighs if she wanted to. She wears her hair up in a ponytail at the crown of her head, or pinned up into a bun or halo most of the time. Her dress sense can be largely summed up by the phrase 'monochromatic' - she wears almost exclusively black and white. In fact, the only colour in her wardrobe at all is in her jewellery.

Personality: Thanks to her parents, she's very career/success-orientated; she's borderline obsessed with her job, and resents the notion of ever having to leave it, even if she doesn't particularly enjoy it as much as she used to. She has an exceptionally low bullshit tolerance - she hates stupid people and constantly having to explain things with a passion. She is, on the flipside, very tuned-in to other people's needs and feelings, and can be very caring and almost maternal when the need arises. She's generally good-natured and annoyingly clever, with a sharp wit, and dry sense of humour - however, if she doesn't like you then you know all about it very quickly.

Other: She's very 'posh' and well-spoken, with quite the stereotypical English accent; she suffers with a more-than-slightly inconvenient combination of vertigo and the aforementioned osteoporosis - she's very prone to both accident and injury.
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Married before twenty, Evy had always just assumed herself to be heterosexual, just out of the fact that heterosexuality had been the only option presented to her - she had been brought up in the days where sapphic attraction was as much a mental disease as it was anything else; her mother had drilled into her since day one about the various evils of gayness. It was as forbidden a fruit as premarital sex, or drunkenness, or drugs (all three of which Evelyn would admit to having sampled before the age of eighteen - a natural rebellion, if anything.) But unlike the odd danger and appeal of the others, which she went out of her way to pursue, and then left behind with her teenage years - besides, of course, the drinking - she had never had any sort of conscious urge to be with a woman for the sake of pissing off Josephine, or disgracing Mother; women had always just been a hidden pleasure she had indulged in from afar. School's PE changing room; walking up the stairs behind a particularly short-skirted secretary in the office - it was just a thing she did. And until it had been pointed out to her, she hadn't thought it odd. One doesn't find blinking to be strange. 

So the knowledge had been there, as well as the dormant desire to take it further than an occasional glance...And the day that the two of them had met, she had finalised the knowledge, and awakened the desire. As she stood there in front of her - brassy auburn hair; delicate musculature visible through a tight blouse; miles upon miles of long, lean legs; bust and backside accentuated but not shown off by trendy clothing - a light had seemed to go on. She greeted her - syrupy voice which complemented the entire delicious exterior perfectly. She was a similar case to Evy; an old agent felled by unfortunate injury - though hers hadn't nearly enough scandal surrounding it to merit a half-decent replacement job, as she herself had put it in fewer words. Once Evelyn had her jaw rehinged and picked back up off of the floor, she'd eventually had the moxie to introduce herself to her new PA. 

She had always wanted her. Just a little. Just enough to keep things interesting; an occasional fleeting hint of danger and intrigue in her otherwise quintessentially drab life. She'd made sure never to admit it to herself; made absolutely certain to keep it under lock and key, but there it was. She had always longed just a little bit for her; for Avalon Melrose. 

And as they grew closer, and closer still, it became less of a piquing curiosity and more of an obsession. She wanted to possess her. She wanted to own her. She wanted everyone in the fucking world to see her mark on her and know that she was the one who'd tamed that statuesque, marvelous creature. And when those deep green eyes locked on her own...She experienced the exact opposite emotion in equal measure - she wanted to curl up at her feet and worship. It consumed her, almost...and her feelings about this were distinctly mixed.

She was too old for that sort of carry-on, of course. Not that that had ever stopped her; as thankless and dutiful as their lovemaking had been, she and Matthew had always been very much active until she had been rendered incapable by some broken bones, and bullets; even his drunken, slobbering kisses that he occasionally trailed across her, even as their relationship took its last few dying gasps, dripped with a strange sort of passion (and a fair volume of saliva to boot.) Still, she was too old for it. And anyway, age was inconsequential when pitted against the real punchline. 

Evelyn could never be exactly what Ava needed - not now. She was married, for one - not for much longer, but it was still the case regardless. She knew from their embarrassingly long chats on rainy evenings in the office; from the nights sat on each other's living room couches - a tentative hand on a shoulder or a knee - nothing more - she knew that Ava was about as straight as she was - even less, probably, having actually indulged herself fully in her various pursuits of various women - and that wasn't the problem. But she seemed to be the type to wish to settle. And Evelyn couldn't deal with commitment; she didn't want to place her wrists straight back into the shackles she had toiled for so long to free herself from the minute some bit of skirt made eyes at her. She couldn't. She had no idea what Avalon wanted from this, but she had a lingering, worrying feeling that their desires didn't match up. Evelyn wanted exploration; wanted solace as she lay in the burning remains of her marriage. From what she could deduce, Ava wished for something...steadier. More definite. 

She could do it. They would. It would be gorgeous, the weeks that they spent together, wrapped in each other. They'd go to bed together, naturally. Ava'd know exactly what to do with her - she had been there before, hadn't she? 

It would be so beautiful for a while - the most wonderful, intimate fling, but eventually she would have to see it for what it was meant to be - nothing more than a brief interlude in their lives. Evy's conscience would never let her keep her; it wasn't sustainable, and more importantly, it wasn't what Ava needed. She'd become Evelyn's prisoner; too fond to break away in spite of wanting and needing to. Or perhaps too full of pity - pity felt as though it was the crux of the matter. 

Because Avalon's interest in her seemed only to have appeared after France - sure, this had been what put them in such close a proximity to one another, but they had known each other for years...That worried her; the thought that perhaps Ava didn't want her, or even care for her at all, but had seen her unloved and vulnerable and miserable; so full of fear that she hardly knew who she was any more - and had seized her chance for a quick fix, or a game. To try her on, then cast her off for a sadistic amusement - we all have to get our kicks somehow, after all. She felt her anxiety in her stomach - a tiny pit sitting there. Questioning everything was a behaviour that she knew by now was only an unwanted part of her nature.

Because she knew it when she looked at her; she would catch that occasional glance from Ava as they sat during a break in a conversation, just out of the corner of her eye. That woman had this look...this bizarre look that had the power to turn her to jelly. She would never think Evy caught her doing it; it was always when she looked away. But that look on her face that seemed as though she was gazing at the most beautiful thing in the world; that tentative, touching Mona Lisa's smile. That wasn't the look of a woman who was looking only to mess someone around; to play with a person's heart for some light merriment. 

But smile or none; obsessed or otherwise...Either way, it wasn't to be. At least not for long - forever is a long, long fucking time, and though it pained her to admit, it wasn't a time she was meant to spend by Avalon's side. 

But they had fallen into a relationship - fallen in love - with such a bizarre, unspoken ease. Evelyn hadn't, as far as she recalled, done anything to entice Ava, or lead her on. But nonetheless, there they were. That first night they had spent alone together, and had stayed awake and talked until dawn - just talked

Slowly, over time, they grew more comfortable together as they found a balance for their needs and desires. Ava wasn't one for raucous sex in the way that Evelyn's soon-to-be ex-husband had been; age had given them the patience and understanding that they'd lacked in youth. The drunken all-nighters in each other's company in front of the TV had become chaste, tentative kisses - dragged into the bedroom in a flurry of lips and hands and apologies as they were both too voracious for their own respective goods; hurting one another's damaged knees or shoulders as they bumped against doorframes or pressed too hard against the other's body.

Her desires had been fulfilled, but the obsession persisted. She didn't want Ava's body or experience any more, however; she wanted her. These days for Evelyn, it was enough to have someone there in the night to reach out and caress lightly; a warm body in the darkness to fight off the fears. 

Her worrying still endured, of course - but by each day it became less and less. Every night they spent in one another's arms had taken away a little piece of it, until Evelyn almost forgot that she had ever worried at all. 

The only toxic notion that persisted at all thrived, however - it was one that Matthew had planted there; the idea that she wasn't quite enough for her. It was the looks that made her nervous; because Ava was gorgeous, and had all her life been aware of it. Women wanted to be her if they didn't want her, and she practically had to fight men off with a stick. Her hair didn't get its colour from a bottle twice a month as Evelyn's did, the greys at her ears and her crown only flattering her; the lines and creases of her face exaggerating her beauty rather than obscuring it. She was jealous, of course - but it was a benign breed of jealousy. Evelyn knew that even in her age she was still a handsome woman, and even so, she looked how she looked; she had learned not to let perfect be the enemy. The real cancer was the fear of losing her because, even though she wasn't unattractive, she could never be as much - because after the ordeal in Paris, she had the physique of a corpse from her sudden drop of weight; she could hardly walk; and she was covered in those hideous, angry red scars...Whilst she couldn't say it had broken her mentally, it had fucked her up, and it had ravaged her body to the point that she hardly recognised her own reflection. 

But that loss never came; they never had a do-over of her conversation with Matthew. That man had been hyper-critical - he had made no secret about how he had left her because he couldn't stand the sight of her, and because her panic attacks in the night were too much for him to cope with. "You live from self-induced crisis to self-induced crisis, and expect me to scrape you up off the floor, hold your stupid little hand, and tell you that everything's okay in between them - it's blatant attention-whoring." That conversation had been the nail in the coffin; the final thing that had destroyed whatever fragment of self-confidence she had still possessed after the surgeon's knife had left its mark on her; and the drugs had caused her to vomit up everything she swallowed - knocking about two stone off of her weight; and her hair had turned almost entirely white in the space of a few months. Naturally, she had believed that his words were all that love could offer her; teaching her in the process that she was now fundamentally unloveable. 

But rather than turning her back to her and settling back to sleep with a moan to alert Evy of how much of an inconvenience she was being, Avalon was nothing shy of a saint - holding her until the shakes went away; staying awake with her on the nights that she was too terrified to sleep; teaching her how to love the scars that marked her form. She remembered the way that she had lain with her back to her paramour; stoic as she cried, too afraid of pissing her off and admitting to her weakness - and Ava had turned onto her side, kissing her arms as she embraced her. 

That night had taught her something; that the reason for loving someone shouldn't be a desire for a piece of arm candy. 

She gave up on her denial after about six moths of pretending that she would call it quits after one more night, or one more week. Her every pathetic attempt at querying their romance had been stopped before it was started by Ava's razor tongue, and she had stopped trying. 

That one morning when Matthew had let himself in to demand something-or-other from her; Avalon had been dotting about the kitchen making the pair of them coffee, dressed in a shirt and not much else; Evelyn's lipstick from the previous night still smeared halfway across her face - Evelyn herself, leaning on a bar stool in her underwear, had frozen solid at the sight of him; but Ava had no such nerves. She had greeted him with a sardonic: "Morning, sweet-cheeks," an almost coy smile on her face as she continued trying to figure out the workings of Evy's espresso machine; not dignifying his rudeness with a look. 
"I...Who the fuck are you?" 
She had responded flawlessly smooth; without a stutter, or even much of a pause between his words and hers. "I'm your replacement, dolls."

That was the last time they had seen him; the incident that had cemented the fact that perhaps their love was for keeps after all. 

The heart wants what it wants, as they say; they became fundamental components to one another's happiness - they complimented one another. And soon Evelyn's fantasy of a midsummer night's fling became more grandiose; she wanted more. But not sex - never that; never physical intimacy. Rather their closeness; more domestic. Her fears of commitment were utterly gone. Moving in together; getting a dog...it was too late in the day for both of them for kids, but Evelyn had her son and her daughter - the only good things to come from Marriage No. 1 - so perhaps grandkids one day. Her dreams of a few nights in bed became an insatiable desire just to live...to grow old hand in hand. 

*

"Who the fuck taught you to waltz?" Ava grinned, speaking through her gravelly laugh as the pair of them swayed on the kitchen floor in their tights; old enough to drink, but apparently not old enough to dance like adults. Evelyn pulled herself ever-closer, grinding her rear end into the hand that pressed against it. 
"My husband," a bitchy beam; a squawk of a laugh. It was Ava's terrible music playing over the hi-fi; she was finding it difficult to keep a straight face as they ground against each other's hips, Charlene bawling about how she had been to paradise but never herself in the background. 
"Figures," she sniffed; laughter still playing in her voice. "We're waltzing, darling, we're not supposed to be this close." A wicked smile alighting her face, Evelyn pulled herself in so close that their breasts pressed together; revelling in the bemused expression which came over Avalon's face.
"We are now," she responded cockily; her grace short-lived as she tripped over Ava's foot, and brought them both to the ground. 
Ava propped herself up on one elbow, grinning up at her. "I told you so, Evelyn."
"Oh, fuck off."

"Come on," she pulled her to her feet, taking her hand as she took her waist. "Let's try again...A bit further apart this time." 
"You liked it, you slut," Evelyn gave a throaty chuckle, biting her lip somewhat as she placed a hand on Ava's backside; the other woman grasped it and pulled it up a few inches. 
"Beside the point," she smiled as they drunkenly shuffled around the tiles; Evy ducking under Ava's trim arm in a shaky twirl.

Evelyn grinned bolshily, and with this she leaned forward clumsily, kissing the corner of her mouth, and eventually then her lips as she found them. Ava kissed her back. She’d expected her to, but when she went to pull away, she followed and kissed her again. Her second kiss was as light as the first, but when Evy pulled back to look at her, her eyes were closed; her face was soft. When she lifted her hand to her cheek, she turned her head into it and kissed her palm. Evelyn opened her mouth to Avalon; felt her as she took the invitation - the soft press of their tongues against each other. The knuckles of their joined hands were white as they gripped each other tightly; mindlessly pulling themselves closer to the other's body. 

They came away for breath; a few strains of Ava's coppery hair had broken free from the clasped updo at the back of her head - Evy reached up to swipe a few of the unruly hairs away from her forehead. "I'm jealous of your bastard husband," Ava spoke through a beam that split her face virtually from one ear to the other. "How come he deserved twenty years of this, and I only get a measly few months?" She dipped her mouth in to indulge in Evelyn's again. The blonde let go of her hand, drawing her closer; feeling the muscles and curvatures of her body beneath her shirt. She broke off momentarily.
"You have no idea..." Then she let her lips glide over Avalon's jawline before finding her mouth again. 

"Oh yes I do," she smiled, pulling away again. "Discontented mother, regimented wife..." she sung teasingly, spinning around as she held Evy by the hips; pulling her in a circle with her. 
"Your taste is abysmal," Evelyn laughed again, bringing her arms around Ava's shoulders, wobbling a touch as she stood on her toes. 
"Don't give me that face, Evelyn," she grinned. "Or I'll have to slap it off before I become violently ill." Her lipstick was visible on Evelyn's face, and she reached to wipe it away. "Jesus, you're about to say something sappy...I can just sense it."
"Well, I'm not now, you ungrateful bitch," she let go of her, stony-faced; before softening again. "Come on...Show me how to dance again, would you? I liked that."

She took one of Ava's hands, placing the other one on her shoulder, this time standing the proper distance away; only to be taken by surprise when Ava caught her by the hips and pulled her forward until their stomachs pressed together. One long arm wrapped around her waist, holding her close to the warm body that possessed it; sneaking a grab of her buttock as it went. 

"Didn't you learn anything?" she murmured as she tilted Evelyn's face up towards hers, leaning down until her mouth was a hair's breadth away. "That's not how you waltz..." 

Evelyn grinned. This was a glorious affair indeed. And what she once feared she could never have, she prayed would last. 
The Glorious Affair
Blatant, blatant, blatant self-indulgence :iconhurrplz: I don't think I have any straight characters anymore, but who really gives a shit? Not me, that's for sure ;) I explained Evelyn's pre-Ava attitude to her sexuality at the start anyhow

I originally had this being just an exercise in making people cry; I killed Avalon off with terminal cancer at the start of the first draft, but I figured that's gratuitous sadness; one step up from shock value death really, and I liked her. So we got that cute little 'I've Never Been to Me' scene (that was the song they were dancing to in case you somehow didn't get that.) 

Avalon is based a touch on Joanna Lumely, at least in the face department; my Ab-Fab obsession is still going strong, but I'm not writing anything for it as I can't fucking think of anything.

Ava's a former agent who lost her job in the field after she was diagnosed with osteoporosis after rolling and breaking an ankle in the field (the only, and i mean ONLY reference to Patsy fucking Stone I'm allowing into her character) and finishing up with a new job working with Evy. The rest, at this point, is history; she's a darling, and I love her. I'll draw her eventually. This is now legit canon by the way :meow: Figured baby deserved a little happiness
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Fine Wine by Prosper-the-XVIII
Fine Wine
Because that is exactly what Ms Evy has aged like :iconhurrplz:

'Proof that older women can be sexy. Even for someone who is on the wrong side of fifty years old and covered in scars, she looks pretty hot.' (I said this back in 2013, but my point still very much stands.)

Inspired-ish by this prosper-the-xviii.deviantart.c… which I drew like close to three years ago now (Jesus Christ :wow:) I've reshuffled Evelyn's design a touch recently - chiefly her hair. She's been through a multitude of styles in the five years she's been kicking about - but personally I'm liking the greying-blonde bob she started with - minus that hideous fringe, of course.

I'm thoroughly enjoying her undies - I have a very similar bra, and if matching undies were available for it, I'd have them in a heartbeat. And she honestly is just :drool: She's crazy-fit for a woman in the back end of her fifties (some slight de-ageing has occurred too...breaching seventy is probably a touch too old for..well, everything she does with herself; I've pushed basically everything back by about ten years) and she basically secretes class and elegance even though she could snap you in half by looking at you too harshly. God, I have such an embarrassing thing for older women at the moment (well, just in general actually) so take this as me projecting. I'm also loving figure drawing and pinups, so hence the volume of tits and bums in my recent artwork. 

I found her almost being recast as Joanna Lumley earlier this week after I got stupidly attached to Patsy from Ab-Fab, but I reined in the urges; she's been Emma for far too long.
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I literally started watching Ab Fab six hours ago, and already ship Eddy and Patsy so much it's sickening - must be some sort of a new record for me....
Sassy, Classy, yet Somehow Still Slightly Trashy by Prosper-the-XVIII
Sassy, Classy, yet Somehow Still Slightly Trashy
I started watching 'Absolutely Fabulous' at the recommendation of my Netflix, and came to a discovery....Patsy is LITERALLY Bernadette. I swear to god - they're both sassy as all hell blondes, they both have gravity-defying bomb-af hair (see my last pic of Bernie,) they both drink so much that...well, I think Patsy says it better than I do - s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/7… and 66.media.tumblr.com/42b18625e2… and...look, I've been trying to find a way to summarise how Bernie would be characterised without actually writing anything as her seeing as I don't have anything outside of scraps and rp stuff; she's essentially Bernadette Bassinger and Patsy thrown into a blender together. 

So evidently the hair was inspired by Pats (I have a slightly inappropriate semi-crush on Joanna Lumley, which is quite an odd thing to admit to, but it's entirely correct) and as for the pose...no context. She was meant to have a dress on, but that ass turned out too fine and I figured gratuitous nudity is very Bernadette. 

As for the tattoos, besides the peacock - I figured the profanity on her knuckles was a touch crass and unnecessary, so I gave her a few more little ones and scrapped those - that's a dagger piece on her thigh, and the transgender symbol in a heart on her shoulder blade. 
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I'm scribbling this down at midnight  on the notes app of my phone purely because I refuse to let myself forget it.

Tonight, I went to see The Rocky Horror Show in Edinburgh. For those unaware, I have a long-standing love affair with all things Rocky Horror - it's fun, and I like it, and it was also entirely pivotal in terms of figuring out and subsequently coming to terms with my sexuality. Little Nell was the first woman that I actively acknowledged I had a proper crush on - not 'I find her kind of attractive' but 'she makes me kind of weak at the knees and I want her to sit on me'. Additionally, for all his shitty character traits, Frank's 'I'm me, I love being me, and anyone who doesn't like it can fuck off' thing is something that gave me huge confidence; that mindset has been essential for me at times.

Before anyone asks, the show was astonishing; I dressed up as Columbia, I sang along to fucking everything, made as many call-outs as I could remember, and Time Warp-ed my fucking legs off. The performance was amazing in itself, and I give major credit to the actors for doing their characters 200% justice. Lea DeLaira is still the best Dr. Scott/Eddie in history, but this guy was a close second. As for Collie and Frank etc. - they were all great.

But I'm really making this journal to discuss something that happened concerning an audience member. The camaraderie in the audience just out of our shared love for RHS was stellar, but this blew me away.

My accompaniment for the evening was my mum's best friend/my fairy godmother, Lesley - we were seated next to each other, but with steps between us; on her side were a gay couple who she got talking to. At the interval, I waddled over to her to get a drink, and the guy - who was about twenty or thirty, bald, and wearing a bow tie; very Stanley Tucci-esque - next to her taps me on the shoulder, and asks "Are you a lesbian?" Alarm bells at that point started ringing - while comfortable discussing it with my own social groups, I hate talking about my sexuality to adults, and I'm also just a little antsy around men by default. Don't ask me why. I mumbled a bit, and he only asked me again; more mumbling; again, so on and so forth, until I eventually said yes. He then turns to me and asks me how old I am - j say 15. He said to me after that "That's great. That's awesome. You're out there just doing you, and I love it. I love being gay - it sounds weird to say it, but I do. When I was your age, I hated it - I was ashamed, I was suicidal, I got the shit kicked out of me, I finished up in hospital. Don't ever let yourself get like that. Be proud of it. Don't change yourself for anycunt." We then proceeded to have a conversation on how I had lost one of my 'best friends' over it, because she thought it made her boring, so said that I was making it up for attention. And he goes "Well, fuck her. Don't bother with it; don't change yourself. By the way, you've got really nice skin and I like your eyeliner."

I'm practically in tears as I write this. I never got to have another conversation with this guy; he left before we did, so I didn't see him after the show. Odds are I'll never see him again. At no point did he have to say what he did to me. He didn't have to take time out of his life to be nice to a kid in pyjamas who he didn't know and would never see again once we left that theatre.

The thing that this world has going is that kindness is very tit-for-tat. Nobody is nice for the sake of being nice; only for the sake of getting some kind of gain out of it. But tonight, somebody took time out of their life to boost the confidence of a teenage lesbian, and while it may be inconsequential to him - while he might not even remember me this time next week - this absolutely made my night. I still hate telling people - specifically adults - about my sexuality because it's so unnecessarily called under question and scrutinised. But this guy just came out of the blue and made me so unbelievably happy just because we shared 'a love of a certain dope' if you will (RHS) and a mutual understanding of how fucking hard being a queer teenager is and because he wanted to.

In the highly unlikely situation in which you're reading this, Glaswegian Stanley Tucci - thank you. Thank you so much from the bottom of my heart. You were so crazily nice to me tonight, and helped me so much even though you may not know it. I only wish I could give you something back.

And to everyone else - adding this to the huge pile of reasons why I adore Rocky Horror.

Prosper xx

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:icongmdwilcox:
gmdwilcox Featured By Owner May 10, 2016  Hobbyist Photographer
Thank you for the fave!
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:iconnaaren:
Naaren Featured By Owner Mar 17, 2016
Hi there Smile 
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:iconprosper-the-xviii:
Prosper-the-XVIII Featured By Owner Mar 19, 2016  Hobbyist General Artist
Hey
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:iconnaaren:
Naaren Featured By Owner Mar 19, 2016
What's up? 
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:iconprosper-the-xviii:
Prosper-the-XVIII Featured By Owner Mar 20, 2016  Hobbyist General Artist
Not an awful lot. I was nosing around on your profile, and came across something that probably shouldn't be a pressing question but is anyway; any particular reason you're looking for Scottish people?
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(1 Reply)
:iconvintage-devil-queen:
Vintage-Devil-Queen Featured By Owner Jan 27, 2016  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Woah, thank you so much for the generous amount of points, Prosper! :hug:
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:iconprosper-the-xviii:
Prosper-the-XVIII Featured By Owner Jan 28, 2016  Hobbyist General Artist
You're welcome ;)
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:iconepicwolfofdarkness:
EpicWolfOfDarkness Featured By Owner Nov 10, 2015  Hobbyist General Artist
Dear Prosper,

:iconhplz::iconaplz::iconp-plz::iconp-plz::iconyplz:
:iconbplz::iconiplz::iconrplz::icontplz::iconhplz::icondplz::iconaplz::iconyplz::iconexclamationmarkplz:

:squee: :party: :happybounce:

Hope you have an amazing day! :icondragonglomp: :D


I'm so sorry about your present, it's just I've been really busy with school and other drawings I still need to finish. Please forgive me. ^^;
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:iconprosper-the-xviii:
Prosper-the-XVIII Featured By Owner Nov 10, 2015  Hobbyist General Artist
Thank you so much! :meow: It's been an absoute blast ;)

:icondragonglomp: It's okay - don't worry about it :meow:
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:iconepicwolfofdarkness:
EpicWolfOfDarkness Featured By Owner Nov 10, 2015  Hobbyist General Artist
No problem! :D I'm glad you had fun. :-)

Okay. I won't worry about it. :hug:
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