#Bodega interiors

[ccmicheau]

[anonymouslymadebydesign]

CG!Howdy Pillar x Little!GN!Reader Headcanons

Side note : GN = gender neutral

✿ I think Howdy would definitely take on the role of caregiver whether you were together or not, he just gives me those vibes (◡‿◡✿)

✿ If you were little at the shop, he would let you sit at the counter with some paper and a box of crayons

✿ If you like juice he’d make sure you have a snack with your favorite juice or if you don’t like juice, whatever you like !

✿ He’d of course make sure you drink water as well, can’t have you drinking juice juice/milk/soda. he’d give you what you like but in strict moderation

✿ It’s the bodega , so of course he’d occasionally have books for sale. to keep you entertained he’d had kiddie books for you to go through, and if it’s slow enough, he’d sit with you and read you a story

✿ I’m not sure how big the interior of the bodega is but I imagine it at least has a employee break room, despite Howdy being the only employee there. I like to think it’s like a townhouse situation, house upstairs, shop downstairs

✿ Anyways, for nap time he’d keep a nice little pull out couch in the break room for you whenever you get sleepy or need to lay down for a minute

✿ He’d keep spares of your favorite comfort items there as well, extra blankets, pillows, your favorite type of stuffie, pacies and bottles (if you use them of course) and teether toys as well !

✿ Since Howdy is the only employee at the bodega, I’d imagine he’d had those “out for lunch, be back soon!” signs on the front door. He would either pack you a lunch or make a simple one in the employee break room. He’d eat with you, and if you needed help eating, he’d gladly hold your food up to your mouth and make airplane noises

✿ Howdy would definitely color with you when he can as well! If hes done cleaning the store and stocking up he’d sit with you and help color in coloring books or make little doodles for you and your fellow neighbors

✿ If it was nap time and you wanted to cuddle I think he would definitely join you in a nap session, especially with how hard he works

✿ Check ins ! He would check in every so often to make sure you’re doing good , he’s always worried you mightn’t be doin to well and he doesn’t know (╯︵╰,)

✿ He would totally organize play dates if you’re comfortable with other neighbors ! I think having a play date with Julie or Sally would be so much fun

[sweetstarart]

Welcome home house interior headcanons!!!

Home looks mostly normal but in every single room something is missing (The kitchen only has one chair, the bathroom has no mirror etc.)

Their indoor walls are the same color as their outside walls and their wooden floors are the same color as the door

Many of Wally's furniture has eyes however they are not alive most of the time

Sometimes Home uses them as an extra pair of eyes

Their favorite piece of furniture is a sofa with eyes at the arms

This sofa can walk if home so chooses!

I've said it before and I'll say it again, almost every floor in the house is made of mattresses!

Everywhere is a cozy place to sleep accept the bathroom

All the rooms are decorated with adorable dog themed stuff and accented with clown and dog stuff (horns, balls, prank stuff, chew toys etc.)

There's food hidden in every room 👀

Barnaby would rather you take your shoes off the door so there's less dirt and mud on the mattresses but he won't rly enforce it. He'll say "Take your shoes off, or dont!" And never mention it again

Sleeps in a rly big dog bed that has a pattern that looks like ketchup (i drew his room before but I wanted to mention it bc it was fun to make ^^)

His bathroom is a mix between a human bathroom and a dog salon (bc I am all about this dog motif)

There's paw prints everywhere even on the ceiling!

The wallpaper looks like his vest

Looks like a Bodega but a lot bigger

Has a freaking grill behind the counter so can make hot dogs

Has tons of stuff in jars behind the counter as well

Has a secret room, thats where he sleeps at night

It's a rly big room and it has everything he needs (including a secret bathroom!)

Sleeps in a sleeping bag in a hammock like a caterpillar in a cocoon

Has absolutely everything in his room

Has a red and orange tile floor!

The wallpaper looks like his shirt

Her house has a green carpet that resembles grass

It even has little flowers in it!

Her wallpaper in her bedroom is pink with little white flowers on it

The rest of the wallpaper matches her dress

Her bed has tons of heart shaped pillows of varying shades of red and pink

Has a massive closet that looks tiny, but is actually a walk in closet!

Has a big cozy love seat ^^

[myinternetaddictworld]

Kiss It Better {P.P}

MINORS DNI 18+

This one is kinda longer than my last posts so if you’re looking for a longer read here ya go. Smut toward the end for my favorite little freaks 🤭

CW: college! peter x reader, oral sex (f receiving) body worship, multiple orgasms, possessive peter if you squint

You were never one for relationships. You figured because you always moved around so much growing up, there wasn't much of a point to getting close to anyone. You figured it would just hurt less to keep to yourself. Since graduating high school, your mom moved once again, this time to New York City. This was the biggest city you had lived in yet. Money was so tight, that rather than starting university right away, you decided to work and help your mom out as long as possible. You referred to it as a "gap" year but really you weren't sure how long this little break was gonna last. All you knew was that you needed to find a job and you had to do it fast. Luckily you found one; a cashier at a small bodega near your apartment.

The owners were nice and although the money wasn't that much, they promised you more after your first three weeks. You liked the environment and the local customers were surprisingly sweet. Most of them were nice older people usually coming to pick up their morning newspaper and maybe a lotto ticket. Your favorite customer, however, was a tall, curly-headed brunette who looked around your age. He would always come in and grab the same four items: a bacon egg and cheese bagel, a bag of barbeque Lay's, an Arizona iced tea, and a bag of M&M's. He must've been a regular for a while because your manager knew him by name; Peter. The two of you both enjoyed small talk from time to time. You even started having little inside jokes that he would shyly bring up every chance he could get.

One day, you supposed he finally got the nerve up to ask you for your number because he seemed super nervous when he did. From that day on, you two became really close friends. His aunt May even loved you, often inviting you over for dinner. You would be lying if you said the two of you hadn’t “fooled around” a bit in the months you’ve been in New York. The first time it was your idea. You proposed it after a fun night out clubbing with the boy. With the small amount of alcohol in your system, you embarrassingly mentioned how attracted to him you were as well as the few wet dreams you had about him. Peter didn't oblige so you found your partially exposed back pressed against the cold interior of the bathroom stall. It was messy—very messy but you loved every bit of it. From that point on the two of you were classic friends with benefits. It's not like the two of you fucked every chance you got, but when the both of you were in the mood and available, you always took the opportunity.

"Hey sleepy head," he said walking into your empty store.

"Hey," you grumbled out, placing some juice cartons into one of the now empty refrigerators.

"Jesus, good morning to you too," he laughed.

"Sorry, just not having the best morning," you say tossing the plastic container that held the cartons in the trash.

"Sheesh, sorry. Do you wanna talk about it?"

"Don't you have work in like half an hour?" you say, looking at him.

"Please, work can wait...plus I wanna know what's wrong with my favorite person."

The comment made you smile.

"...I'll tell you later," you say. Peter frowns.

"Seriously, I'll meet you at your place when I get off," you said, looking at the cash register in front of you.

"Okay...but promise me you won't mope around all day or otherwise I will too,"

This comment makes you let out a small laugh.

"Alright, I promise Parker. Now go, before you miss your train again."

He smiles, before leaning over the counter and placing a small, chaste kiss on your forehead.

"Okay, okay I'm out the door." he says quickly grabbing his items and placing his money on the counter. With a small ding of the door alarm, Peter is gone.

You loved when Peter and you shared small domestic moments like that. Of course, he wasn't your boyfriend, but he was the closest thing you had ever had to one. When the two of you first started messing around, you were also the one who insisted on not putting a label on it; more just enjoying each other's company. He hesitantly agreed. Despite the "no label/ just friends" agreement, Peter was still one of the sweetest guys you had ever been with. Always opening doors for you, insisting on taking you to his favorite restaurants, and even buying you little gifts here and there.

The real reason you were so upset was that your mother broke the news to you that this would be your last week in New York. She had gotten laid off from her job and there was no way she could make next month's rent in time. Even with the money you were making, there was no way the two of you would be able to afford to stay. In any other case, you would be slightly disappointed but quickly get over it. In this case, you were angry. New York was the first place you felt you fit in and most of all you were nowhere near ready to lose Peter. The thought of you ate at you for the rest of your shift. You hadn’t even realized how fast time was passing. It was now 5 PM and time for you to leave. You let your manager know you were on the way out and gathered your things.

The city looked nice as you walked to Peter’s apartment. Once you arrived you knocked at the door that Peter quickly answered.

“Hey bug, May is working a little late tonight but I could order us pizza if you’re super hungry,” he said as you made your way into his apartment. He had just gotten out of the shower; you could tell because his hair was wet and his lower half dawned a bath towel.

“It’s okay, i’m not really hungry right now.” you say smiling.

“Come here,” he says walking over and pulling you into a hug. His damp hair brushed against you, making you laugh.

Despite this, you loved his hugs. You loved how he always smelled of vanilla. His hugs made you forget everything bad in the world.

“I missed you today,” he said while pulling away.

“I missed you too,” you say secretly missing his embrace.

“So how was work? Do you feel any better from this morning?” he says motioning you to follow him to the couch.

“Uhm, yeah a little,” you say awkwardly taking a seat next to him.

“You sure?”

You nod. He pats his lap urging you to lay on him. You oblige. He begins playing with your hair. You enjoy sitting in this comfortable silence with him.

“Can I have a kiss,” you say, shyly.

“Of course, Princess.”

You sit up and Peter pulls you on to his lap. He leans in and kisses you. Your stomach does cartwheels. You deepen the kiss as you wrap arms around his neck. He’s the first to break the heated kiss.

“Someone’s excited to be with me, huh?” he teases. You laugh.

“It’s okay, I’m a little excited too…” he says as he shifts beneath you. He’s hard, you can feel it through the towel.

“Wow Peter, it’s been like .2 seconds and you’re hard?”

“Hey, you’re the one sitting on my lap, how can I not get hard?” he says, leaning back. You

“Okay, okay.” you’re right, you giggle. You climb from atop of him and lay on the opposite end of the couch.

“Take me big boy,” you say jokingly. Peter crawls over you, leaning down to kiss you again. This kiss different from the first one. This one needy and desperate. It had been weeks since the two of you hooked up. You were busy with work and he was busy with school. Both of you could agree this was much needed.

The kiss soon moved from your lips to your cheeks and eventually to your neck. Peter knew your body better than anyone else you had ever been with. He quickly found the sweet spot of your neck which earned a quiet moan from you. He lightly tugged at the fabric of your shirt. You help him by grabbing the material and pulling it up before he finishes pulling it completely off. His head dips down to your chest, kissing each of your breasts and reaching back up to your lips.

"Mhm--there's just something about taking your work clothes off of you," he says, now hovering just above your face. You laugh and playfully roll your eyes.

Peter stares deeply into your eyes. His eyes fixated on your face makes you a little nervous.

Pete...is there something on my face?" you giggle

"What? No." he responds

"Then why are you staring so hard, dork," you say trying to get him to stop.

"You just looked really pretty then," he started.

"--Not that you don't look beautiful all of the time, it was just right there..." he trailed off.

"Wait," he said pushing himself off of you.

"Pete~~" you whine, seeing him walk out of view to presumably get something.

"Stay in that position," you hear him yell from his bedroom. He shortly returns with his prized film camera.

He holds the camera up and quickly takes a photo.

"Peter, I wasn't ready for that," you continue to whine.

"Yes, you were." he says walking toward you to show you the picture. The picture was actually beautiful. It was you, laying on Peter's couch with your back slightly arched. Your hair messily framed your face and the slight sunset lit one side of your face.

You blush as Peter continues to hold the camera in front of you. This must be how he sees me all the time? you think. The thought lingers in your head for a bit.

"So, you like the picture then? You keep blankly staring at it," he laughs.

"Yes, Peter. I love the picture," you smile.

"...and I love you," he says placing the camera down and looking at you.

Once you had fully processed what he had said, your brain went into panic mode. Peter just told you that for the first time. You sat there with wide eyes and your mouth agape.

"I know we agreed on no 'boyfriend or girlfriend lables' and no 'I love yous' but I felt like saying it and have for a while so I figured I say it. You don't have to say it back or even feel it but I just thought you should know..." he trailed off, turning his eyes to his feet.

You felt your eyes begin to well with tears.

"I'm sorry if I made it awkward, it's just I'm not so used to the whole 'friends with benefits' thing and I really like you. That's why I said you didn't have to say it back. We can keep whatever relationship--or non-relationship we have going on." he continued.

By this point, tears were pouring out of your eyes. Peter finally took the time to focus his attention from the floor back up to you.

"Oh my god, I didn't mean to make you cry. I'm so sorry--ugh please don't cry. Uh-- I didn't mean it!" he says, quickly leaning down to wipe the tears from your cheeks.

"You didn't mean it?!" you say, now almost sobbing.

"No I did mean it, I just don't want you to cry because I said it." he said, his voice wavering. His words felt rushed, apologetic.

"Peter, I'm not crying because you said it!" you say, sitting up and pushing him slightly away from you.

"You're not?" he says, immediately taking a seat right next to you.

Your hands came up to your face to catch the continually falling tears.

"No," you sniffle out.

"Do you secretly hate me?" he said.

"What?! Peter, of course not!" you say slightly raising your voice.

"Then why are you crying?" he says, moving your hands from your face and replacing them with his own.

"I'm leaving," you say, barely above a whisper.

"Huh? Like right now?" he says, his eyes widening.

"No, like New York." you say, avoiding eye contact.

Peter's lip twitches slightly.

"Funny joke." he says. You feel his eyes burning a hole into you.

"I'm not kidding. Mom's been laid off and rent is due in a week. She's already drawing up all the moving papers." you say, averting your eyes at his. Peter sits there in silence.

You continue to stare at him, trying to gauge his reaction.

"This is not how I saw this playing out," he said finally breaking the silence. Your glance softens as you see his lip began to slightly quiver.

"Maybe May and I could help, just for the next few months--"

"Peter, we both know I can't accept your money."

"Yes, you could! I want you to have it."

You shake your head.

"Please--" he whispered out.

The two of you sat there, in silence again.

"Guess what though?" you say reaching your hands up to the sides of his face.

"What?" he says disappointedly.

"...I love you too, Peter Benjamin Parker." Peter's lips bust into a small smile.

"You're gonna be really hard to forget, you know that?"

You lightly gasp.

"Well, I would hope you wouldn't forget me."

"Forgetting feels easier than missing you every day. You sigh. Your body can’t produce anymore tears but your eyes still burn.

“You don’t have to miss me just yet…I’m still here till next Friday… I mean we can still enjoy each other’s company till I leave,” you say, your voice inflecting a more of a question than a statement.

“Yeah, I know.” he says placing his hands over yours.

Peter cocks his eyebrow.

“Are you seriously still trying to fuck after this depressing ass news?”

You laugh, hard. The laugh almost made you forget the pain you were feeling prior.

“Would you kill me if I was?” you say.

“No, it would just leave me with a bunch of unanswered questions and trauma,” he joked.

“What?” you say, giggling.

“I just mean…” he hesitates. He clears his throat so his words come out more serious.

“If you weren’t leaving, would all this still be just fun between us? Like would we just go back to being ‘friends with benefits’?”

You sigh.

“Peter…I knew I would dread this day if it came.”

His kissed his teeth.

“So the answer would be Yes? Got it, in your world apparently ‘friends with benefits’ say I love you to each other.

“Stop, okay!” you begin.

“I never said anything. Peter, I really do love you. I’m in love with you. If I were staying, I’d be attached to you at the hip. Hell, you’d be begging me to leave you alone,” you say. The earns a small chuckle from the man.

“I would like that—or let me rephrase. Would’ve have liked that very much.” he says, pulling your hands away from his face and interlocking them with his.

“Me too.” you say staring at him fondly.

“Who says we can’t make long distance work?”

“Peter we don’t even know where we’re moving to yet—plus…long distance never works. You’re gonna be so busy with school and I’m probably gonna find another job. We’ll eventually grow apart and start resenting each other.”

“Not if you go into it with that attitude. I’m willing to do what it takes.” he says.

You think for a moment.

“I say we try it and if we hate, we call it off. Or I come and see you every break I have. It’s at least worth a shot, right?” he says, his eyes glistening with hope.

Peter has always been an optimist. This quality of his shined even on the darkest days.

“Okay.”

“Yeah? Okay?”

“Mhm.”

“Okay as in we’re doing this whole boyfriend-girlfriend situation?”

“Yes Peter!” you laugh.

“Really? Like for real? he says, confirming one more time.

“Oh my god, Peter you’re my boyfriend.” you say.

His eyes light up. He quickly grabs your face and peppers kisses on your lips and both your cheeks.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he says, in between pecks.

“For what?” you say blushing.

“For…saying you’ll be mine.

He finishes with chaste kiss on your lips.

“Now that we’ve sealed the deal… don’t you think it’s only fair to commemorate this moment?” he says suggestively.

“Now who’s just trying to fuck?” you laugh.

“Hey, you were trying to do it way before we agreed you were my girlfriend,” he stated

“Touché…” you giggle.

“Now, if you’ll let me,” he says, pushing your back onto the couch. His lips joined with yours as he climbed on top of you. Your arms reached around his neck, to once again deepen the kiss. Peter’s hands began to wander your torso before finding their way up to your chest.

“Mhm— take this off baby…please,” he said reaching his hands underneath you to help unclasp your bra. He had gone through this motion so many times before that he could basically do it with one hand. He slowly pryed the piece of fabric off of you, revealing your bare chest.

“God, I will never get tired of seeing these,” he said dipping his head down and kissing the tops of each one. Your fingers found themselves in the back of his hair, tugging; urging him to go lower.

“I know, I know baby. I can smell how wet you are. Just let me appreciate you a little more. Show you, you’re mine.” he let out softly before finally placing his mouth around one of your now sensitive nipples. You gave an airy moan. Peter began alternating between kissing and sucking each one, gaging your reactions to each action. His hands continued wandering as he made his way to the zipper of your jeans. He slowly unzipped them and slid his hand in.

“God, baby your panties are soaked,” he groaned out.

“My pretty girl, you’re so good to me.” he said slightly menacingly.

He continued his work on your chest while slowly lightly rubbing his fingers up and down your clothed slit.

The grip you had on his hair was only tightening as he worked his magic.

With one small ‘pop’ he came up from your chest and kissed your lips.

“I wanna fuck you so good right now that you still remember it when you leave,” he says, looking down at you. You smile, once again bringing your lips up to his.

“Mm— let’s get you out of these too,” he says breathing into the kiss. His hands pull your jeans off from under you, tossing them onto the floor. Your panties and Peter’s towel are quick to follow.

Peter pushes himself down, placing small kisses on down stomach. He stops when he finally reaches your wet heat. He places one last light kiss on it before singling out the tiny bunch of nerves that lay right at the top. His tongue wastes no time moving in ways that make your head spin. Peter takes his time with this. All the sexual encounters you two have shared have usually been rushed and messy. It wasn’t supposed to be pretty. But not tonight, tonight Peter was giving you a show. The lewd noises you were make probably made it sound like you were giving him one too.

He alternated between softly sucking it and rubbing his tongue across it with just the right amount of pressure. His eyes never left yours. His hands, of course, continued the work on your chest that his mouth was once doing. His mouth dropped a little, as his tongue found its way in and out of your opening. You felt a ball form in your stomach. You began clenching every time his mouth found a new pleasurable spot. He knew you were close and was determined to get you there. He dug his head deeper into your heat, maintaining the motions from earlier. The new pressure was enough to send you over the edge. Your legs began to clench around his head, earning a deep moan from him.

“Shit Peter—” you cried as you rode out your orgasm. Peter’s head remained in between your legs as he tried to bring you to another orgasm.

“Ah—s-so sensitive Pete,” you whine out. Your hands tug on his hair. With one long lick, Peter pulls his mouth off of you, leaving a long line of saliva dripping as he pulls up.

“Oh my god, Pete.” you say trying to catch your breath.

“You okay?” he laughs.

You nod.

“I wanna return the favor…” you say trying to push yourself up.

“Later,” he said pushing you back down.

You furrowed your brow.

“It’s not that I don’t want you to, I just wanna take care of you right now.” he says, climbing atop of you again.

You smile, pulling him into another kiss.

“I also don’t know how long I could last if you went down on me right now,” he laughs. He lightly grinds against your leg, most likely to remind you of his still prevalent boner.

“I want you to get off too,” you say softly.

“Yeah?” he smirks. Your hand finds it’s way to his member, slowly stroking it up and down. Peter groans into your ear.

“Fuck baby,”

“Cmon, fuck me Peter…please,”

“Don’t have to ask me twice,” he laughs.

——————————————————————

Heyooo i’ve been gone a minuet but i just started my second year of college and things are getting kinda hectic lmao. Hope this one isn’t that bad, i may write a second part possible with more sexy time. Also if you couldn’t tell i def have a thing for Peter fresh out of the shower lmao. Let me know what you think!! <3 follow for more; requests are open!

[postcards-around-the-world]

The interior of my favourite Mexican restaurant in London: La Bodega Negra

[theneighborhoodwatch]

I might just make my own post about it but it’s 3 am where I am rn so you can beat me to this, what do you think about the houses that aren’t Home itself? Poppy has the most obvious horror potential, but I’d like to see the concept of technically working from home and what that does to your mentality too. Both Eddie and Howdy really seem to live and breath their jobs (which can also be a consequence of cartoon logic but shh) smth Frank and Julie are outdoor types smth ok I’ll go to bed

HMM. well i think it's all home, in a sense. i've talked a lot about how i think it's very likely that home the house and home the town are a singular entity, with the house being The Epicenter of it all a la the brain and/or heart (you could say.... *dons sunglasses* that home is where the heart is. *sick guitar riff*)

as for how each house relates to its individual occupant - i feel like in order to really talk at length about that, we would have to actually see the interior of each house (speaking of which, casual reminder to anyone reading that "Each house is a single room. There do exist separate sets that the show 'says' is part of a neighbor’s house, though." is a real piece of livestream trivia that exists. i'm sure it's nothing though /s.) in the case of eddie and howdy specifically, i absolutely agree that the fact that there seems to be no such thing as work/life separation for them feels A Lot More Ominous than it would in a non-horror project. however, i think it might lend itself less to "what working at home does to a mf" horror and more "what working customer service does to a mf" horror. it is interesting though that according to the linked trivia doc, howdy does have something of a one-sided rivalry with eddie (a playful one, but still) seemingly just by virtue of them being the only two neighbors with 9 to 5 jobs, since otherwise it's like comparing apples and oranges. something about being pitted against each other as a distraction...? feels like a bit of a reach right now, but i'll put it away in case it does come up later.

there is one interesting thing i wanna note about the placement of howdy and eddie's buildings: on both the website map and the rough sketch of the town's layout that we see in this concept art, the bodega and the post office are positioned the closest to the town's exit. is this an advantage? or a sign that they're seen as more "expendable" than the rest of the town's residents for whatever reason? or maybe (likely) something else entirely? something to keep in mind, i think.

[lpvncnt]

* ◟ : 〔 TAMINO , CIS-MALE + HE / HIM 〕 PHILIP GOFFIN-VINCENT , some say you’re a TWENTY-SEVEN YEAR OLD lost soul among the neon lights. known for being both DOGGED and DEPRAVED, one can’t help but think of STRUGGLIN' by TRICKY, MARTINA TOPLEY-BIRD when you walk by. are you still a CLEANER, ACTIVE ASSASSIN at THE BORDERLINE HOTEL, RED EYE even with your reputation as THE GARGOYLE? i think we’ll be seeing more of you and STUPID SHOW-PONY HIGH ROLLER, PATIENT LIKE THE HYENA WAITS, GET IN YOUR CAR AND RUN ME OVER INSTEAD OF WAITING FOR OTHERS TO DO IT FOR YOU, YOU LAZY FOOL, although we can’t help but think of JONATHAN CRANE (DC COMICS) + ERIC DRAVEN (THE CROW) + JASON DEAN (HEATHERS) + ANTON CHIGURH (NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN) whenever we see you down these rainy streets.

FILE: LIP VINCENT

STATUS: ACTIVE. HEIGHT: 6'2". SEXUALITY: PANSEXUAL, AROMANTIC. DATE OF BIRTH: 12/25/1995 HOMETOWN: MALMEDY, BELGIUM. RESIDING: BROOKLYN, NY. ROOMMATE WITH [TBD WANTED CONNECTION].

Instead of the usual biography, I felt like the following poem captured the energy of the past a bit better than I could ever express:

INSOMNIAC

THE night is only a sort of carbon paper,

Blueblack, with the much-poked periods of stars

Letting in the light, peephole after peephole --

A bonewhite light, like death, behind all things.

Under the eyes of the stars and the moon's rictus

He suffers his desert pillow, sleeplessness

Stretching its fine, irritating sand in all directions.

Over and over the old, granular movie

Exposes embarrassments--the mizzling days

Of childhood and adolescence, sticky with dreams,

Parental faces on tall stalks, alternately stern and tearful,

A garden of buggy rose that made him cry.

His forehead is bumpy as a sack of rocks.

Memories jostle each other for face-room like obsolete film stars.

He is immune to pills: red, purple, blue --

How they lit the tedium of the protracted evening!

Those sugary planets whose influence won for him

A life baptized in no-life for a while,

And the sweet, drugged waking of a forgetful baby.

Now the pills are worn-out and silly, like classical gods.

Their poppy-sleepy colors do him no good.

His head is a little interior of grey mirrors.

Each gesture flees immediately down an alley

Of diminishing perspectives, and its significance

Drains like water out the hole at the far end.

He lives without privacy in a lidless room,

The bald slots of his eyes stiffened wide-open

On the incessant heat-lightning flicker of situations.

Nightlong, in the granite yard, invisible cats

Have been howling like women, or damaged instruments.

Already he can feel daylight, his white disease,

Creeping up with her hatful of trivial repetitions.

The city is a map of cheerful twitters now,

And everywhere people, eyes mica-silver and blank,

Are riding to work in rows, as if recently brainwashed.

— Sylvia Plath

AESTHETICS

Repugnant amount of weed smoke filling a suspension-lacking 1966 Cadillac Coupe DeVille, that only a 100% masochist would drive in New York. You were not born to cry. Leopard print BB belts stacked on the waist. A soul, emptied. No pride, no pleasure, no desire. Life is just like a Wong Kar-Wai movie. You've got two fists comically full of metal, the weight shifts you off your feet when that punch is thrown, your poorly welded home-made 'rings' -- made from a chunk of all the old silver jewelry you've collected from the bodies over time, all these precious keepsakes melted onto a fork -- made to hurt -- should be illegal. Lots of little projects like that scatter what you call 'home'. An angel dies every time a shitty fuckboy like you flashes his mid-section in local Bodega for no reason. Recently adopted a Belgian Malinois, Osiris, who is still in training and needs a muzzle (an excuse for enabling bad behavior, could be symbolic). Egregiously loud mumble-rap. When stressed, likes watching ballroom dancing while chainsmoking cigarettes.

Hi, I'm Samuel, 24, PDT, a sweet little Californian baby boy who will do tricks for treats, gee whiz am I glad to be here. All of this is a bit vague but will be fleshed out with time -- if you've got any questions on specifics I'd be super happy to clarify. Huzzah !

[201xs]

the pilot is rough around the edges in a lot of ways as is to be expected but i kinda love the design for the bodega interior .... its a lot more grounded and cohesive, especially with the colors and thinner lines, and has this sort of maximalist thing going on which i love, gives it a claustrophobic look that makes it seem like an actual convenience store as opposed to in the show where its more like a grocery store

[xx-vergil-xx]

hey hi <3 loving the snippets of your original writing!! i'm intrigued by the strangely structured novel. can we see JOURNAL ENTRIES?

hope you're keeping well!

hello howdy!! thank u so much! and well wishes to you too friend <3

a bit from JOURNAL ENTRIES — i’m gonna link this post where i talk abt the structure some so u have like a modicum of context, but these are the journals of a lit. studies doctorate attempting to untangle an old book with a second hidden meaning under its facade

thanks very much for the ask my friend !! <3

FEB. 12

Was it like this before? Am having the dream again. R not helping much. Supposed to. Lark might have better. Wish he’d visit but also wish he wouldn’t. Get what I want and don’t get what I want. Ordering in is starting to rack up bills. Will have to foray into the world. Bodega has the good chips, the salsa verde ones. I will arm myself with two coats and dark glasses. Maybe they’ll think I’m famous. Need to finish this stupid fucking book. And then. And then?

FEB. 25

Today was a long day finished annotations on IV but at cost. Persistent cold spot at the small of my back. Called Lark he turned taciturn (thinking thinking dial-up almost audible) then recited the litany of sleep and sun which is the sort of uselessly useful advice that makes me loathe him sometimes.

MARCH 3

Peering in the [cloister] [class] [chamber] of boys and men what is it in this insular/sprawling world which is compelling? To want and to want to become are not so different love and assimilation and is love’s expression homogeneity or disparity? Witten becoming storyteller in imitation see there’s this pull towards pictures and senses is it because he’s trying to make and expel a lost voice or is it because that is how we see the world? Lover lover lover. Linguistics. Good word lover smooth in the mouth (river rocks) and a hum on the teeth and the lower lip does the shape of the word generate the sense of feeling rightness or does it feel right because of its meaning and signification back-influencing an understanding of the word whatever were my shoulders a little broader or my body a little narrower I could count myself king of infinite space. The complexity masquerading as simplicity? The object of feminine self has been so distressed with commodity it can’t just be? Thoughts crisp and clear but expression sloppy. That’s what Dr. K always said ‘you have it so inside but it doesn’t survive the crossing somethings what I see in your work is interiority struggling into the sun’ he was always such a fucking poet about it.

[moralesmilesanhour]

Why do you like miles so much? (This isn't meant to come off as rude or condescending, I'm genuinely just curious!)

I don't think I could ever fully explain why I'm hyperfixating on something, but I will try:

When I was first made aware of there being a black Spider-Man I didn't realize they weren't just talking about the suit 💀 I think I was like, in middle school or something? When I first "read" (watched a YouTube video of) his comic. Needless to say it made me very sad cuz his momma died but this was my first real encounter with an established black superhero that I can remember, so that set the foundation

Cut to 2019. I just finished or was about to finish 8th grade, I think? I went to a charter school for the majority of my academic life. Now, Spiderverse comes out and I'm hype asf because hey look black Spider-Man and they're actually animating a comic book movie! So my parents take me to see the movie.

I'm in the theater. I'm excited. The movie starts and BOOM! Miles speaks Spanish just like my classmates do! They cut to Visions Academy and the interior looks exactly like my school! There's a mf bodega and the streets look almost exactly like Crown Heights!! They even briefly addressed the fuckass gentrification coffee shops.

Even though I'm not a boy, I looked at what they did with Miles for Spiderverse and I saw a mirror. Not only is the art extremely inspiring to this day, but they did amazingly well with capturing such a specific experience being a black child in a gentrifying Brooklyn in almost every way possible.

TL; DR: Category 5 autism event. I still can't listen to Sunflower without tearing up a little it is BAD for me

[brokehorrorfan]

Scream VI will be released on Steelbook 4K UHD, 4K Ultra HD, Blu-ray, and DVD on July 11 via Paramount. If you can’t wait, the sixth latest installment in the slasher franchise drops on Digital and Paramount+ tomorrow, April 25.

Scream 2022 directors Matt Bettinelli-Olpin & Tyler Gillett and writers James Vanderbilt & Guy Busick return. Melissa Barrera, Jenna Ortega, Mason Gooding, Jasmin Savoy Brown, Hayden Panettiere, Dermot Mulroney, Jack Champion, Henry Czerny, Liana Liberato, Devyn Nekoda, Josh Segarra, Tony Revolori, Samara Weaving, and Courteney Cox star.

Special features are listed below, where you can also see the Steelbook interior.

Special features:

Audio commentary by directors Matt Bettinelli-Olpin & Tyler Gillett, writers James Vanderbilt & Guy Busick, and executive producer Chad Villella

Death Comes to the City—The filmmakers and cast discuss Ghostface’s reign of terror in the big city

The Faces of Death—Cast and crew discuss their return to the beloved horror franchise

More Meta than Meta—Go inside the sequel to the requel with new and legacy characters

Bloodbath at a Bodega—Nowhere in New York is safe from Ghostface

An Apartment to Die For—Witness the staging of the elaborate apartment attack and ladder escape

The Night Train to Terror—Immerse yourself in this behind-the-scenes look at the NYC subway sequence

Theater of Blood—Dive into the nostalgia of the Scream movies that came before

Gag reel (Digital exclusive)

The four survivors from the most recent Woodsboro Ghostface killings have moved to New York City for a fresh start. Just as they begin to feel a sense of normalcy, they receive that infamous call. Ghostface is more brutal and relentless than ever and will stop at nothing to hunt them down.

Pre-order Scream VI.

[afranciscomiradiezblr-blog]

Castilla León- España.

La construcción del Canal de Castilla supuso en el s.XVIII una de las obras de ingeniería más importantes de la península ibérica. Sirvió para transportar cereales del interior de la meseta al norte de España, hasta la llegada del ferrocarril.

El canal dispone de dos caminos paralelos que servían a las mulas arrastrar las embarcaciones. Estos caminos sirven hoy en día como buenos senderos para recorrer a pie o en bicicleta.

Las localidades más interesantes para visitar desde el canal sur -desde Valladolid- tenemos Cigales y su impresionante iglesia de Santiago y Cubillas de Santa Marta con sus famosas bodegas subterráneas.

En el proyecto inicial se contemplaban 4 canales, que unirían Segovia con Reinosa, con la intención de, en un futuro, atravesar la cordillera Cantábrica y poder llegar al mar por el puerto de Santander (Cantabria)

[eating-plastic]

OC Introduction: The Sterling Sisters!

Yeah, they're ocs I ship with the Puppet Master puppets, what of it? And yes, they're sisters too because I wanted a family dynamic. Anyhoo, with that outta the way, let's meet the girls!

The picrew I used (it's the same one I used for my profile picture, how fun!): https://picrew.me/en/image_maker/332600

Name: Marabelle Sterling

Age: 30

Birthday: April 15

Height: 5'8" (173 cm)

3 Words to Describe Her: competitive, protective, motherly

Shipped With: Six Shooter

Bio: Marabelle Sterling is the oldest sister of the trio. Before ownership of the Bodega Bay Inn, she worked as a farm hand for aging ranch owners, specifically she worked with animals. While being the most upset about moving to California, she is not one to complain, always sucking up her negative emotions. She's a go getter and a true leader, as shown with her getting her sisters to do their share with fixing the hotel up and with her being head chef in the kitchens. Mara is also a lover games and competitions, and she always tries to win whatever it may be. Despite how cocky and arrogant she may get, she is a wonderful person to go to for advice or comfort. She is also fiercely protective over those she loves, especially her lil' sister Louisa.

Name: Angelica Sterling

Age: 25

Birthday: August 9

Height: 5'6" (168 cm)

3 Words to Describe Her: girly, outgoing, playful

Shipped With: Jester

Bio: Angelica Sterling is the middle sister of the trio. She is a theater actress, but has dreams of becoming a movie star. As such, she was the most happiest about moving to California with hopes of being discovered. Of course, before she could go out for auditions, she was put in charge of the interior design of the Bodega Bay Inn, making sure furniture was in tip top shape and in line with the hotel's aesthetics. On top of acting she is also a wonderful singer and dancer. Angie also has the uncanny ability to befriend people easily and cheer them up however she can. She also loves anything pink and glamorous, with her often found at the mall getting her hair, makeup, and/or nails done, as well as just shopping in general. She's a Barbie doll in human shape. Speaking of which, she has a decently sized Barbie collection.

Name: Louisa Sterling

Age: 24

Birthday: September 20

Height: 5'2" (158 cm)

3 Words to Describe Her: shy, creative, timid

Shipped With: Blade

Bio: Finally, Louisa Sterling, the baby of the trio and also the quietest. While her older sisters radiate confidence, she is lacking in that department. Fortunately, her sisters and new found wooden pals are there to help her take some baby steps in standing up for herself and loudening her voice. The only time she shows confidence is in her passions. She is a violinist in an orchestra and becomes a totally different person when she plays whether it be practice, rehearsal, or the actual concert. She also has dreams of composing her own pieces. She is also an artist who enjoys painting and sketching, especially since she now has so many beautiful rooms and scenery to paint. Before she could set up her easel, she was in charge of landscaping due to her love for gardening as well. She had Angie by her side for moral support when needing to command the newly hired gardeners.

[because-she-goes]

nike’s ascension

warnings: none. Enjoy!

Nora was now entering junior year at The Parsons School of Design. Yes, that Parsons. She had gotten accepted after she sent in a portfolio of her post-rehab work and the admissions team realized she was not just some regular New York girl who saw art as a hobby to do for a few years before marrying a Wall-Street guy and having babies in the Hamptons.

This was Nora Downey, a woman who had used art to work through her emotions and trauma and saw how it could help heal. A woman who had oil paint flowing in her veins and her skin may as well have been marble or clay. It consumed her every being, all she thought about was art - from the moment she woke up in the morning and poured her morning coffee while looking over the Art and Culture pages of the New York Times to going to sleep at night to the sounds of the city she loved. She had officially moved out of her underclassmen dorm, and with the help and blessing of her parents had gotten an apartment in Bed-Stuy, Brooklyn. It was small and cramped, but it was close to a studio and the subway so she could get to her classes up in Manhattan. It was her home.

She brought up the subject of her moving to her parents while at a cafe in the Gramercy area. She acknowledged that with her being more successful she could manage to pay for her rent, grocery, utilities and any other bills while helping her parents with tuition payments when possible. With the success of her rehab and underclassmen work, she landed an internship with the Metropolitan Museum of Art in their curating department and assisted in finding fresh pieces to add to their extensive collections as well as organizing their current pieces that were in storage and not for display.

She adored her life. Nora - or Nike as most of her friends called her - had a great job, a somewhat steady income, a decent-enough boyfriend to come home to, adoring parents, a good rapport with her therapist Linda and she was doing what she loved in the city she loved. She had her routine: get up at 7am, get coffee for the curating team at the Met, show up by 7:45am, stay and work until 2pm, then go to her studio classes and work on her next piece until 6pm, then meet Derek for dinner. It was what she always dreamt of. The quiet yet fulfilling life of an artist.

The fall semester went by in a breeze, Nora being the star pupil in her Junior Abstract Studio course. She had been working non-stop for months, at times her and her friends would order pizza to the studio and blast music all night and work through until sunrise. Sharing paints, ideas, sketch books and even bedrooms and couches - she was lucky enough to have a group of friends who not only supported and encouraged her work, but brought out the best in her and pushed her to improve. The group of students would then stumble out of the studio like zombies, going to the bodega for breakfast sandwiches and coffees before the cycle restarted.

Nora was in the zone, on her A game. Even now, all these years later the stories of Nora Downey surround Parsons like Greek myths, freshman whispering over how she topped the New Yorker’s Ones to Watch list that year, had 15 pieces sold before December her first year and rose like a phoenix from the coals of addiction. She was unreal. A legend among men. And she wasn’t even a senior yet.

Speaking of her senior year she had sold more works than any other individual in her class, was working on a senior thesis to present to her peers that spring, and was being pursued by every art curator she knew to get her work in their museum. She knew her stuff was sought after, but she was still humble enough to recognize she was not the only talented woman about to graduate from Parsons. She had friends who were able to make the most stunning gowns out of thin air, create buildings off a sketch, make interiors for the city’s most iconic apartment buildings, and more. She was able to recognize the power of being a woman in the arts and the inherent sisterhood that comes with that. This was something her male colleagues still refused to acknowledge - that they weren’t these special entities the media or press made them out to be, that their work was simply a variant of works that came before them and inspired the modern day. Her male counterparts would brag about themselves to various publications about how they were God’s gift to art or put on some grand display of coolness - wearing leather jackets and sunglasses in the middle of New York Summer during their break. The men tried to come off effortlessly cosmopolitan, unbothered or unknowing of their success while Nora and her friends had the wherewithal to know they were not only successful, but they had unashamedly worked hard to get to that point. The idea of putting effort into one’s work and actually caring about that process was not something to be meek about to Nora. It was this simple trait of Nora’s that cemented her as the shining star of Parson’s art program. She was disinterested in the notion that caring was uncool or unchic.

The ability to recognize that. That was what made Nora Downey into Nike. She both gave a shit about her work and also worked to not only advocate for other women, but would give them her spotlight and space without a second thought.

By the time she graduated, Nora had mentioned over 200 other female artists currently working in New York. And in her final interview with Parsons, she simply gave a single statement to explain why she found so much success:

“Because, women must hold each other and support one another to get anywhere in life. I owe all of my success so far to those who have come before me and those who work beside me. Without them, I’d be nowhere.”

With this, Nora finished her collegiate career with a series taking inspiration from her colleagues and the women who helped her improve over the years, gave her critiques, gave her support, gave her a shoulder to cry on or food in her stomach after locking herself in her studio. Some composed of black and white images, some more graphic and colorful, the dichotomy of being bold while also showing her restraint and understanding of when to be subtle being the hallmark of the collection. All of these elements taken from what she not only learned from her friends and peers, but also Parsons and its teachers.

She was smart enough to know that she had gotten a second lease on life and a chance to pursue her passion as a career - a chance many are not fortunate enough to receive - so why not put everything into her work and give herself the best possible life and experience she could. Why not put her all into this? Why not see where luck and determination lead her? In Nike, and herself, she trusts.

[alfredo-mercado-jaguarcillo-v]

Trekking a El Mirador. Parte 6: Nakbé

Para el 5 de abril tocaba el primero de dos días extenuantes, en los que sabíamos que caminaríamos más de 30 km cada uno. A pesar de ello me pareció que comenzamos tarde y algunos del grupo ya empezaban a tener ampollas y pesadez al caminar. Este día era opcional visitar el sitio de La Muralla, pero primero teníamos que llegar a Nakbé y recorrerlo. Este trayecto inicial solamente tenía 14 km, pero el ritmo en general estaba disminuyendo. Estuve al frente tratando de jalar al grupo e insistiendo en que había que avanzar, me sentía como un animal salvaje en una jaula, cada vez que había un descanso permanecía de pie dando vueltas en mi rincón de sendero; no estaría tranquilo hasta completar el recorrido completo del día. A pesar de estar caminando sobre otro sakbé que conectaba La Danta con Nakbé, todo se agravaba porque pasamos tramos de "pantano", donde la tierra en algún momento fue lodo y quedó llena de agujeros por el paso de las mulas; caminar ahí por mucho tiempo era una tortura.

Por fin llegamos hasta Nakbé, que significa "junto al camino", un sitio aún más antiguo que El Mirador, aunque no tan monumental; pero decir esto es engañoso, ya que los edificios principales son masivos. Adriana apenas podía seguir caminando, por lo que se adelantó al campamento sobre una mula, la primera vez que alguien subía en alguna, para hacer el recorrido más tarde y con calma.

El primer conjunto que visitamos fue el grupo Codex, donde no encontramos edificios de gran tamaño, dos de ellos estaban parcialmente excavados, uno, de carácter residencial, mostraba dos habitaciones; el otro era un pequeño templo con restos del recinto superior.

Nos dirigimos a la Acrópolis central, pasando por unas canteras. Vimos algo poco usual en todos los sitios arqueológicos que he visitado: piedras en proceso de ser cortadas y ya preparadas que habían sido dejadas a un lado del camino o sin separar de la roca madre. Aquí se trabajó quizá hasta el momento de abandono de Nakbé.

Ya subiendo a la Acrópolis, nos encontramos con varios edificios que tenían más de 20m de altura, sin arquitectura expuesta pero llenos de fosas de saqueo, incluso una era utilizada como bodega por los arqueólogos, aunque un derrumbe casi cubrió por completo la puerta que resguardaba su entrada.

Pasamos por la Plaza Central, donde ahora se encuentra el campamento del IDAEH, de ahí caminamos por una gran calzada prehispánica hasta la acrópolis noreste. Ahí vimos otro enorme montículo, pero decidimos no subirlo porque no tenía una gran vista por los árboles que le cubrían, además de que queríamos ahorrar energías para el resto del día.

El recorrido continuo hasta el Grupo Coral, donde nos encontramos con una gran pared en pie, además de varios cuartos ya excavados. Nuevamente se trataba de un conjunto menor, sin edificios de gran tamaño.

Nuestra siguiente parada tenía un especial interés para mí, el juego de pelota. Desde hace tiempo tengo un álbum de fotos de este tipo de edificio y este es uno de los más antiguos en el área maya. Tuvo tres etapas constructivas y la primera es del Preclásico Medio, cuando únicamente contaba con dos banquetas bajas.

Estuve un rato esperando a que mis compañeros avanzaran y me quedé atrás tomando fotos, naturalmente tenía que tener imágenes de este juego de pelota.

La penúltima parada fue un chultún en el que anteriormente se podía entrar, sin embargo el lazo que se utilizaba para bajar se había podrido y no pudimos descender a su interior.

Finalmente regresamos a la Plaza Central y algunos de nosotros, los que iríamos al recorrido de La Muralla, subimos a su cima, ya que no tendríamos otra oportunidad de hacerlo. Me sorprendió que los templos superiores eran mucho más pequeños que los de El Tigre o La Danta, en El Mirador. La vista desde ahí permitía ver claramente el edificio principal de su gigantesco vecino, además de la estructura La Pava.

Una vez que bajamos, caminamos hasta nuestro campamento, distante casi 1 km de ahí, y de inmediato comimos, nos esperaba un trayecto que resultó ser una auténtica salvajada.

[silvr-skreen]

Spidersona is out. Villain-of-the-Week-Sona is in.

The backstory is based on a real thing. My grandma did force the guy to drive across the country to get the goggles irl though. But in the story that didn't happen, so they ended up getting sun radiation via the machine.

Powers include: temperature control (making things hotter specifically) refracting the sun (her umbrella's interior is a mirror, and she can use it to make things burn - it also flips over fully to become the outside) and other pyrokinetic abilities + the ability to summon dust devils.

He's a super minor villain btw, most of the villainy is like "if The Spot knew what he was doing, but still only ever tried to rob bodegas"... yeah Solar is like that. Much rather just steal like. Posca pens from a hobby lobby.

Also she's like the Spot's annoying nephew figure I think. In my mind, that is their uncle and he's stuck with them. (Her OG villain name was Sun Spot lol)