#locked down

[hopeymchope]

[darkartfinds]

Locked Down by Tapped Ink

[something-tofightfor]

2023 Summer Kiss Prompt #10: Dieter Bravo - A Kiss While Baking

Writing this made me realize how much I miss Locked Down Dieter. This takes place after the chapter I'm currently working on (it's like ... 70% done) ... and it's motivated me to get back to them.

Thank you for requesting this, @jessthebaker - I think I went a little off from the direction you'd anticipated, but I hope you still like it!

No real rating or warnings - but it *is* Dieter, so be aware of his habits.

Word Count: 1,672

You heard him before you saw him. The sound of his voice - low but frustrated - carried from the kitchen to the hallway where you stood. 

“Dieter?” One hand trailing along the wall as you peeked through the open entryway, you grinned at the sight. “Are you … cooking?” 

“Mmmhmm.” He grunted the agreement out without turning to look at you, the set of his broad shoulders determined. “Well… I’m trying to bake, anyway.” Scanning the countertop while crossing the wide-open space, you reached up when you stepped behind him, your hand pressed to the center of his back. 

“What are you making?” 

“Brownies.” He paused, sliding a mixing bowl across the counter to rest in front of him. “Or, they were supposed to be brownies. I think I fucked up and missed a step because this doesn’t look right.” He turned his head toward you, scowling. “I was going to make them and have them waiting for when you got here, but then I got distracted.” 

“I don’t blame you. You had a lot to do last week before you came to see me.” Leaning in, you kissed his cheek. “Can I help? I’m not sure what you’ve already done, but …” Pointing with one finger, you cleared your throat. “I don’t know this recipe, but if you’re already mixing wet and dry, the eggs should probably be out of their shells.” 

He swore, reaching up and rubbing at his forehead. Without saying anything else, he stepped to the side, making room for you. “This is my grandmother’s recipe, and I’ve made it too many times to count, but…” He trailed off, the man’s fingers deftly cracking eggs against the side of the bowl before he split the shells, the contents dropping in with the other mixture. “But today I’m a little … out of it.” 

“The holidays are always harder.” Nudging him with your elbow, you began to grease the pan, sneaking looks at him while you worked. “Especially for you, since you’re trying to wrap up a bunch of stuff in the next couple days and you’ve got a girlfriend that kept you awake really late last night.” 

“Yeah. How dare she.” He huffed out a quiet laugh. “I kinda miss last year, y’know?” He set the spoon down, brushing stray flour from his palms. “When all we had to worry about was whether or not Gunther was going to get pissed that we weren’t following his rules.” You laughed, setting the paper towel that you’d used down, too. 

“It seems like we’ve known each other so much longer than we have, Dieter. If you would have told me last Christmas that we’d be here now, in your kitchen, making brownies together, I wouldn’t … I would have wanted it to be true, but never thought that it could have been.” 

“First of all,” he started, reaching past you for a bag of chocolate chips. “While you’re here, this is your kitchen, too.” He dumped half of the bag into the bowl, paused and then shrugged, dumping in more. Why am I not surprised? “Second of all, if I remember right, last Christmas was when this picked up between us, and  that was about when I started picturing you here.” 

That admission shocked you, but instead of making a comment about it - even as a joke - you stayed quiet. If that’s true then … we wasted so much damn time between then and now. 

 He’d fit into your family’s holiday celebrations with ease - the man charming them just like he charmed so many people he came into contact with on a daily basis. Even though his visit was short, he’d won them over easily, none of your family batting an eye when you’d mentioned that in the new year, you were thinking about exploring the idea of spending more time in California. It’s because I’m already gone so much. It wouldn’t be any different for them.

“Pass me that spatula.” He used his chin to gesture toward the utensil, one hand under the bowl of batter, the other steadying it. “Or, nevermind. Just hold onto it for a second.” Fingers closing around the wooden handle, you waited to see what he’d do next. 

Dieter poured the batter with precision, splitting it between the two greased pans. He focused on what he was doing, the tip of his tongue poking out from between his lips - and you smiled at the sight, eyes flicking down from his face to his hands and then back up. “I could get used to seeing you in a kitchen, Dieter. How’d you hide this for so long?”

“If you move out here, you’d be able to get used to it.” He glanced over, smirking. “And I have a reputation to uphold. Can’t just let everyone know I’m not as inept at taking care of myself as it might seem.” You laughed quietly, turning your body so that you could rest your hip against the counter. When he took the spatula from you and used it to scrape the sides of the bowl, you focused on the flex of his fingers and the way his wrist moved with each motion. I am the luckiest fucking - “Wanna lick?” 

He held the utensil up, one eyebrow raised. “Oh, you’re one of those.” Rolling your eyes, you cocked your head to the side. “Bet you eat raw cookie dough, too.”

“Fuck yeah, I do.” He grinned, extending his tongue to clean one side of the rubber off. “They have that eggless shit now, and it’s supposed to be safe. But it doesn’t taste the same.” He held it out to you again and you took it, fingers closing around his. “Best part of baking is licking the spoon clean, and the most exciting part is the looming threat of food poisoning or Salmonella or whatever the fuck it -”

“Well then, Dieter… guess we’re both gonna risk it. Good thing I’m here for two and a half weeks.” You closed your eyes at the taste of the chocolate as it coated your tongue, groaning as you got your first taste of the rich flavor. “Wait a minute, is there cinnamon in these? I didn’t see you -”

“If I told you then I would have to kill you.” He winked, reaching for your wrist and closing his fingers  around it. “This recipe is a secret. The only way I can give it to you is if you were to become a Bravo.” Oh. Oh, shit. It was the first time he’d brought that up - even casually - and based on his reaction - the slight twist of his lips and a raised eyebrow - you realized that you must not have been able to hide yours. “Do you like it?” 

“I do.” You set the spatula down into the sink, wiping your hand off on your denim-covered thigh. “And I’m no stranger to carefully guarded family recipes, so I get it.” Your heart was pounding despite your voice remaining steady. “I can’t wait to taste them when they’re baked. You put so many chocolate chips in there, they’re going to be gooey and -”

“Her recipe actually calls for walnuts. But since I can’t eat ‘em, she’d…” He swallowed hard, the joking tone replaced with a serious one. “She’d make me my own batch - first, before she made the other one, and replace the nuts with extra chocolate. So now I do the same.” 

Your chest tightened at his admission - and like so many of the other tiny truths Dieter had gifted you with over the months you’d known him, that one hit hard.  “I’m glad you had people to care for you like that as a kid, Dieter. It’s the small things, right? Those are the ones we rememb-” 

He cut you off when he leaned in to kiss you, Dieter’s lips sealing over yours with a practiced ease that not even all the time you’d spent apart could change. You kissed him back, arms going around his neck to hold him close - and when Dieter sighed against your lips, his tongue trailing over them with purpose, you knew that he agreed with you. He pulled back first, the smile still on his lips though it was lazy. “Got some chocolate right… there.” 

He reached out as he spoke, thumb swiping over the corner of your lip and then toward the center, where he pushed it between them. You cleaned it off, focused on the way Dieter’s eyes darkened at the suction - and when you smiled around the digit, he gave you one in return.

“Fucking tease.” Shaking his head back and forth, Dieter moved to step back, but you didn’t let him. “What?” 

“You didn’t put anything into the oven yet, so we wouldn’t have to worry about them burning…” Leaving things open - and the opportunity for him to make the decision - you waited, fingers laced together behind his neck. 

It didn’t take him long to choose, Dieter’s grin growing and his hands dropping back to your hips. He took a step backward and pulled you with him, never looking away from your face. “You’re a bad influence, and coming from me that’s saying a lot..” But you’re not saying no. 

“I’m about to be a worse one.” He stopped moving, hands tightening against your body. “When I saw you baking, I figured you’d be making pot brownies or something, but -”

“Oh, that’s a different recipe.” He wrinkled his nose. “She’d come back just to kill me if I did that to her brownies, so I never have.” He leaned closer, resting his forehead against yours. “But the ones from the dispensary around the corner are much better than anything I’ve ever made. They know their shit. We’ll order some later, if you want. I’m sure they’re wondering why they haven’t heard from me in a while.” 

You laughed at that, Dieter sliding one hand away and then taking yours, palms pressed together. “Sounds good, Dieter. Whatever you want.” As long as it’s me.

—

[lildoodlenoodle]

Three spider ocs I made and have been partially sitting in my drafts 😭 🫠 Orange Weaver, BirdEater, and Brown Recluse. Could not decide on a format lol

Here’s some extra doodles I made while flushing them out

[rolloroberson]

Dr. John and Dan Auerbach

[wasabi-gumdrop]

local ladies man’s signature move totally useless against autistic monster enthusiast. more on Kabru’s fumble era at 6

[nonesuchrecords]

In celebration of Nonesuch Records’ 60th anniversary comes Michael Wilson / 25 Years: A Nonesuch Collection—100 box sets of 20 newly created prints from photographer Michael Wilson’s Nonesuch archive, out tomorrow, including this image of Dr. John from 2012. "Dr. John (Mac Rebennack) dressed to the nines and holding sway on a balcony in New Orleans—what is not to be liked? His sense of playfulness on this day is the thing that stands out strongest in my memory. It is kind of an odd thing to meet and photograph people whose name and work are well known, because, in spite of any such knowledge, at the core of the encounter is the reality that two strangers are meeting and must look for a way into a conversation that is both verbal and visual and which will hopefully prove to be honest and interesting to others."

You can order Michael Wilson / 25 Years: A Nonesuch Collection  in the Nonesuch Store here.

[musicandotherdelights]

Daily Listening, Day #111 - April 20th, 2020

Album: Locked Down (Nonesuch, 2012)

Artist: Dr. John

Genre: New Orleans Rhythm & Blues

Track Listing: 

"Locked Down"

"Revolution"

"Big Shot"

"Ice Age"

"Getaway"

"Kingdom Of Izzness"

"You Lie"

"Eleggua"

"My Children, My Angels"

"God's Sure Good"

Favorite Song: "My Children, My Angels"

[notherpuppet]

How the old timey prick got his pet

[tonichhyy]

[something-tofightfor]

Smutsgiving 2023: Stuffing / Dieter Bravo

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x Female Reader (Locked Down pairing)

Word Count: 1,301

Warning: M.

Author's Note: Our favorite disaster of a man is back, and I loved writing this one for him. The connection here is a little loose with the food, but I think it still works. This is the Locked Down pairing, and takes place after the main storyline.

Smmary: Dieter's packing for his next job, and you're trying to help.

“Dieter, don’t forget your …” Trailing off as you entered the room with his toiletries bag in hand, you laughed at what you saw. 

He had three suitcases lined up next to each other - the smallest was already shut and locked, but the other two were open - and more than halfway filled. Dieter stood above them with his hands on his hips, one foot tapping on the ground. “Yeah the bag in the bathroom. I know, I …” Glancing up, he shrugged. “I just wanted to make sure I had the important stuff.” 

“I think you’ve covered that.” Tossing the bag onto the bed, you stepped over to where he stood, looping an arm around his waist. “You’re only going to be gone for like a month and a half, are you sure you need to -?”

“I fuckin’ looked it up. It’s going to be January in Minnesota. I’m not going outside unless I have to. So yeah.” He nodded - a little overdramatically - and then turned to face you, his hands rising to cradle your face between them. “I’m bringing all of this.”

His thumb moved over your cheek slowly, the man’s eyes clear and warm - something that you’d gotten very used to seeing in the months and years following the overdose in England. “I guess I just figured that for a place like that, you’d fill the bigger suitcase with cold-weather clothes, Dieter … and not your art supplies.” 

“Were you not listening? I don’t need warm clothes if I’m not going outside. I will need a shit ton of paint to keep me busy while I’ve got the heat turned up to 115.” That got a snort out of you, and Dieter’s expression finally cracked, his lips twitching before he leaned in to kiss you gently. “Besides,” he mumbled, both hands dropping to your shoulders. “You’re gonna be there a couple weeks after me and you can bring me anything I missed.” 

With a snort, you pushed him away and then headed back for the bed, flopping down onto it while you watched him return to his packing - the man adding more sweaters and his backup bathrobe to the pile on top of the middle suitcase. That’s not going to fit. There’s no way. 

Dieter was good at a lot of things, and even though most people would have pegged him as incapable of basic survival skills based on his usually disheveled appearance and overall lackadaisical attitude, you knew the opposite to be true. 

It was all an act - and a very convincing one at that - meant to keep people from expecting too much from him at any given time. It frustrated you at the same time you understood how brilliant it was, because even though it made you sad to read the things some people believed to be true about him, it helped Dieter to manage his own expectations and those of others. “Hand me that bag, please.” 

You did, the man thanking you when he took it from your hand, but instead of dropping it onto the piles in front of him, he bent down and unlocked the smallest suitcase, flipping the top open so that you could see the contents. What the fuck?! 

“Dieter, let me see that.” Scrambling to your feet, you peered around him and into the suitcase, surprised laughter tumbling out of your mouth moments later. “That’s how you pack?”

“Well I mean …” He scratched the back of his head and wrinkled his nose. “I couldn’t just shove it all in there. I had to have a plan, y’know?” A plan? That’s more than a plan, it’s… “So I put all the extra shit in that one, my clothes in the middle one, and then my paint and shit in the …. You’re making fun of me.” He frowned when you couldn’t stop a laugh from escaping, Dieter’s expression falling. “Why are you laughing?” 

“Because.” You spun toward him, reaching out with one hand and curling it against his cheek. “I’m laughing because that is the most organized suitcase I’ve ever seen, and I wasn’t expecting it.” You paused, lifting a brow. “It’s impressive, Bravo.” 

“Yeah?” You nodded when he smiled, his hands moving to your waist. “Tell me more about how impressive I am.” You rolled your eyes but decided to indulge him - hoping that the brief moments of doubt could be erased easily. I know they can. 

“You were impressive when you carved the turkey, Dieter.” Wetting your lips, you continued to speak, even as you led him backward and to the side of the bed, your eyes never leaving his face. “You were impressive when you entertained our families for four days for the holiday and didn’t once seem like you needed to escape for a fix.” His eyes widened in surprise and you felt his fingers tighten against your hips. I noticed. I always do. “You were especially impressive when you got this role, Dieter, and you were so fucking excited but you managed to keep it together until you hung up the phone, and -”

“And then I dragged you into the downstairs bedroom and fucked you for hours in celebration?” His voice was low and you shivered at the sound of it, remembering the way his hands and mouth had mapped your body, relearning it for the hundredth time. You’d been in the middle of prep for Thanksgiving, wanting to get a head start on all of the food you’d need for your families by yourself instead of having it catered in like so many others in Hollywood did. “I’d like to do that again right now.” 

“What would we be celebrating now?” He urged you closer, grinding his hips against yours so that you could feel just how much he wanted to do it again. “Me not burning your kitchen down while cooking dinner for eighteen people?” He shook his head slowly, eyes locked with yours. Oh, so he has an answer? Ok, interesting. “Hmm.” 

Dieter’s hands moved over your ribs, pulling your sweater with them, and for a few seconds you let yourself enjoy his touch, a lazy smile pulling your lips upward. “Our kitchen. Keep guessing.” 

Our kitchen. I’m still not used to that. “The end of November?” He shook his head. “The temperature here finally dropping enough to -”

“No.” Dieter leaned in, running his nose alongside yours. “Close.” 

“All of the leftovers we have? Because no one took anything, and -”

“No, but when we’re done you and I are gonna go into that kitchen, and I’m gonna eat as much of that stuffing you made as I can, because that shit was fucking amazing and I didn’t want your family to think I was a goddamn raccoon or something, and …”

“Dieter.” You laughed again, turning your head so that you could kiss him, your next words coming with your mouths pressed together. “Shut up and tell me what we’re celebrating so we can get to the celebrating part.” 

“We,” he replied, opening his mouth and using his teeth to tug on your lower lip. “Are celebrating that from now until the time I leave in January, it’s going to be just us in this house.” He groaned when you whimpered, Dieter’s thumbs digging into your sides, but not uncomfortably. “And that means we don’t need to worry about anyone listening or hearing or interrupting.” He kissed you again, Dieter licking across your lower lip before he backed away, eyes full of mischief.   

“Can we turn this into an all night celebration?” You let the want creep into your voice, knowing exactly what it did to him, but instead of answering right away, Dieter only maneuvered you closer to the bed, his head moving up and down in a slow nod of assent.

“Fuck yeah, we can.” 

— 

[egophiliac]

do skully have pokemon?

Pumpkaboo is the obvious one, but y'know, sometimes the obvious one is the right one! (we'll say SUPER SIZE Pumpkaboo, just for fun. big pumpkin for big skeleton boy.) and another person actually also suggested Greavard, which I somehow hadn't considered, but feels so perfect that I feel like I should have. dangit.

(they can also have little Nightmare Suit costumes :D)

[marvel]

Lorna Wu’s Version of the Ballad is gonna wreck my Spotify Wrapped 🎶

Agatha All Along is now streaming on Disney+!

[morninkim]

new way of telling nathan he did a good job just dropped

[cyarti]

‘CAM - GO LOUD.’

[jabesa0]

🏝️Until Next Summer…!☀️