#corduroy concrete

[red-riding-wood]

I Want You to Want Me

Pairing: Neil Lewis x F!Reader

Fandom: Watching the Detectives

Summary: Neil receives a frantic call and finds you outside of Gumshoe after a date night gone wrong. Secretly habouring feelings for you ever since the two of you met, he finds you oddly irresistable in your tears and torn fishnets.

Warnings: SMUT, mutual pining, dub-con touching, dryhumping, riding, foreplay, teasing, begging (m), masturbation (m), clothed sex (semi), Neil being a wet paper towel, so just Neil being Neil, pervy Neil, switch!Neil, slight dom but mostly sub!Neil because c'mon guys it's NEIL, slight dom!reader, body worship, public sex (technically?), premature ejaculation (sort of?), angst, some fluff? by my standards anyway lol so take that with a grain of salt -- this ended up being more wholesome than I thought it would be

Inspired by this cover of I Want You To Want Me (the reader's song) and Creep (Neil's song) by Radiohead.

Huge thanks to @your-nanas-house for getting me started with a prompt for this and cheering me on!

Totally nicked the "jock boyfriend" inspo from @cillianmesoftlyyy's fic here; go check that out if you want more spicy Neil content, because it was fantastic!

And thank you and also fuck you to @rysko for dramatically beta reading this in my ear WHILE I WAS TRYING TO MAKE THE HEADER

And now that I'm done thanking every fic writer on tumblr, my parents, the Royal Society for the Prevention of Birds, and Saturn and all of its rings, enjoy your filth!

WC: 4239

He found you outside the back door of Gumshoe, huddled against the concrete step, the cool air of the spring night nipping at the wet tears that streaked your cheeks, the slight breeze stirring a shiver from one fretful limb to the next. The whites of your eyes burned red beneath the faint glow of the lanterns atop the neighbour’s picket fence. It wasn’t exactly the most incognito place to cry your eyes out, but you didn’t have a key to Neil’s store, and it was nearly three in the morning. 

“Hey, I got your call. What’s going on?” A familiar voice broke the pitiful sounds of your sobbing, and the tension of your shoulders eased if only slightly at the mere sound. 

You tried to answer past your sobs, but found that your words came only in hiccups, in broken fragments of your splintered heart, and it didn’t take long for him to sweep an arm around your shoulders, lowering himself to sit beside you on the cold step. Instinctively, you found yourself leaning into his touch, trembling against the warmth of his body. 

Neil was never really great at these sorts of things to begin with, but it certainly didn’t help that his attention was drawn to the low-cut top where a tear streaked down the groove of your breasts, to the fishnets that you’d torn on your way out the door of your boyfriend’s, to the short skirt that rode up just enough for him to catch a glimpse of the lace hem of your panties. 

He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry, and he tried to keep his eyes on the face you so desperately tried to hide with your trembling fingers, for you were ashamed of your unkempt appearance. You must’ve looked like a cheap whore – a mess of one, no less. You couldn’t tell what was more embarrassing: the way you were dressed, like you were begging for attention, or the way your emotions seized you so cruelly that you could scarcely breathe. 

“Hey.” His warm, careful touch landed on your wrist, and as you pulled your fingers from your lashes, they came away black with smudged mascara. “I’m here,” your friend said. “Tell me what happened.”

You could still only speak in hiccups and broken vowels.

“Shhh,” Neil soothed you, fingers running up and down your spine, sending tiny shivers through each nerve as the fabric of your shirt bunched and his skin brushed yours. “Shhh. I’m here.”

Resting your head on his shoulder, your hair spilled in sticky threads over the jacket that, judging by the slight musty scent that lingered in the weave of the corduroy, had probably missed one too many washes. But you didn’t care. You’d come to appreciate the little imperfections about him, the details of his scent that made Neil Neil. Like the waxy tinge that seemed to always cling to his fingers after a long shift of rolling back tapes. Like the silk cream and smoke of the vanilla candle you’d gifted him last week. Like the artificial scent of cheap shaving cream and the slightest hint of blood where he’d nicked himself with the razor. The musk of his sweat and skin, buried beneath all these little things that you’d come to know almost as intimately as your own.

But there was something else, something you couldn’t quite pinpoint. And its unfamiliarity unnerved you.

His other hand came to rest on your knee, hot as fire in the cold of night. He thumbed at the tear in your fishnets and looked at you with bright, concerned eyes, but he used this as an excuse to touch you.

“Did he hurt you?” Neil asked. His hand stayed on your knee. In a way, it felt comforting; it grounded you enough so that, finally, after lulled by the rise and fall of his shoulder and the unique blend of his scent, you could speak.

“Is that cologne?” You wrinkled your nose and drew back to look him in the eye, your tangled hair peeling reluctantly from his corduroy jacket.

A rose blush came upon Neil’s cheeks, and he smiled nervously. He’d been sure to spritz himself with a good helping of it before he left, despite his hurried state. He needed to impress you; ever since you’d started dating that jock from across the street, he’d been trying to find more ways to steal your attention back.

“Yeah, it’s new,” he said, a little flustered, in a way that made your stomach flutter. “I wanted to ask for your opinion on what I should get, but you – well…” His voice cracked a bit as a hint of sadness crept into his tone. “… you’ve been pretty busy lately.”

“It’s awful,” you told him, laughing slightly, and your words seemed to cheer him up; his lips tugged into that playful grin of his again, and a deep chuckle rumbled from his throat.

And then you both fell into silence, and he looked back to your knee, still thumbing the skin where the fabric had torn.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Neil said.

You swallowed, another lump forming in your throat, and when you looked at him, bottom lip in your teeth, reddened eyes pouting, rimmed by your messed mascara, his heart sped in his chest in both fear and arousal. The thought of James even touching you boiled his blood, made his skin crawl and tightened a noose round his neck, but seeing you like this, baring your soul to him with those tear-brimmed eyes and mournfully upturned brows, it made him want you even more.

If he’d been the one to take you out tonight, he would’ve brought you home to his bed, worshipped each inch of your hallowed skin and made love to you like you were the only woman in the world, splayed his fingers across your thighs and parted them like a sea, dropped to his knees and prayed with the hungered strokes of his tongue and lapped at your holy waters.

He’d started reading poetry lately. It had felt right; it was the only thing that seemed to express just how he felt about you. Echoed the words in private like they were gospel; chanted your name from desperate lips as he palmed himself each night – and morning – to your photographs, to the vanilla of the candle that reminded him so much of you, to the fantasy of your sweat-slicked thighs wrapped around his waist, your walls clenched around him as he bucked his hips against your weight and finally let himself go, spilling himself inside you and hearing you moan so sweetly for him from those heavenly lips, feeling his own cum dampen his stomach as you collapsed over him. He always knew you’d be so tight, that you’d fit so perfect around him.

But sitting here, staring at your shivering, impotent form in your torn fishnets and your skimpy attire, he could barely contain the urge to tear open your knees and fuck you against the concrete. It had been so long since he’d even been this close to you; James took up all of your time nowadays, and gone were the late movie nights and stolen games of basketball on the breaks he took so liberally.

He missed you. So much.

And you knew it. You knew it, deep in your chest where the remnants of your heart twisted, still hearing the words, “You’ve been pretty busy lately.”

You shook your head, choking out another sob as shame crept along your skin, and you shivered at its grotesque touch. “No, he didn’t hurt me… not – not in that way.”

You couldn’t look at him; his pearlescent blue eyes and his sun-kissed freckles and his boyish brown locks all fading into memory as you buried your face in his chest, inhaling once more the faint scent of his laundry detergent and the musk of him beneath the shirt that was flipped inside-out but still outlined the blatant logo of Back to the Future. Whether he hadn’t realised he’d put it on backwards or he’d been shy about it, you couldn’t be sure, but it lightened your heart all the same, your sobs turning to giggles.

Neil pulled you closer, his chin resting along the nape of your neck and his hand running up your thigh; you barely noticed how near his hand was to your panties as you tugged at his shirt, nails sinking past the fabric as if to keep him and never let him go.

You regretted all that time you’d spent with James, when you should have been spending it with him instead. Everything felt so much easier with him; your smiles were broader, your laughter more carefree.

But you wanted more – selfish and lovesick, you wanted more than what he already gave you. You needed more than his attention and his friendship.

You needed him to want you.

“I thought that…” You sniffled. “… I thought that James wanted me. I dressed up all… nice… fucking whorish… and I thought tonight was finally the night and that he would’ve… that he would’ve…”

The words twisted in your throat, and you squeezed your eyes shut. Two hours ago, when you did up your makeup and clothes for your date with James, you’d felt sexy. Powerful, even.

Now, you just felt worthless.

Neil nestled his nose in the crook of your neck, brushed the silk strands of your hair aside, breathed your scent in so deeply that for a moment, the butterflies came back to the pit of your stomach.

“I just want to be wanted,” you admitted, losing it, sobbing uncontrollably into the now-damp shirt that clung to his thin frame. “I just want to be desired. That was the only reason I was with him, Neil. The way he looked at me that day when he came into the store, I…”

With a bitter pang in his chest, Neil remembered that day. The way James had looked at you like you were a piece of meat. The way he’d asked you if had any recommendations on which sports film he should rent and Neil had practically wedged himself between the two of you and started chattering to James about every little piece of trivia he knew about Chariots of Fire and Rocky. How, despite his efforts, James had still gone home with your number as well as the tapes. How you’d come in the next morning with a hickey on your neck and Neil had just known that where James had paused one of the tapes was when your movie night was likely cut short by… things he’d rather not think about ever again.

It should’ve been his couch you’d been curled up on, should’ve been him watching the movie with you. His mark on your neck.

And he would’ve picked something a little more fitting for the mood, too. Something more like Casablanca or Sin City. It was as if James didn’t even have to try to get you drooling over him. What was so special about him, anyway?

I wish I was special, Neil thought.

Neil’s grip on you tightened at the memory, nails digging in to the flesh of your thigh in a way that stirred a little gasp from your lungs, huffing against his collarbone as you tilted your head up to look at him.

“Y/N.”  His breath caught in his throat, and he reluctantly pulled from your neck to look you in the eye, locks of messy hair falling across his forehead and his eyes half-lidded. His fingers ghosted up your thigh, and you blinked past the sharp mint of his mouthwash – it burned your eyes slightly, but you didn’t care. You were so close to him, your breaths became one, a few threads of his hair tickling your cheeks and his nose brushing yours.

“Neil,” you breathed, the slightest of smiles tugging at your lip as your heart thudded between your legs, dangerously close to his fingers. Warmth spread across each fevered limb, taking you somewhere past the cold concrete and bitter chill of the wind, somewhere away from the graffiti-painted alley and the reek of broken booze bottles. Somewhere safe, and warm, and thrilling all at once.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” Neil’s voice cracked around the words, a nervous laugh huffing against your fluttering lashes as his freckled cheeks darkened another shade of red. The hand that wasn’t between your legs played with a lock of your hair, twirling it in his finger but still supporting you beneath a quivering arm.

You couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t believe this was real.

He had to have been playing some sick joke, right?

But the whimper that fell from his lips was very real, as his nails dug into your flesh again and he tugged you closer, his hips arching upward against your outer thigh.

“You look more than nice. You’re so fucking hot in this skirt, in anything you wear. That asshole is fucking blind,” he breathed, fingers grazing your panties and landing over your hipbone, testing the waters more and more as he tried not to rock his growing arousal too obviously against you.

But you noticed. You noticed the way his cock hardened and twitched beneath your weight; you noticed how even despite his body trembling from his attempts to resist his primal urges, his hips still gave little bucks upward, seeking friction. Seeking the heat that flared between your thighs, that ached for him so desperately that it was all you could do not to return the favour.

He couldn’t take it anymore. Staring into those gorgeous, bright eyes. Looking up at him with anything but innocence. So he scooped both hands around your ass, squeezing the flesh and lace and tugging you properly onto his lap with an alluring squeal tearing from your full lips.

“I want you, Y/N.” His hot breath pooled at your collarbone as he trailed wet, sloppy kisses along your jaw, your neck, and your lips parted in another gasp, back arching and thighs clenching around his waist as you ground wet panties against the bulge in his trousers.

“I fucking need you,” he whined, nipping like a needy puppy at the delicate skin of your neck. “Always have.” Another kiss. “Ever since I first saw you. Long before James.” A possessive growl stirred from his throat at that, the flare of dominance sending a jolt through your core.

“Neil, I – oh my God.” A moan broke your words as his fingers moved up your spine and his teeth grazed your collarbone, hovering over your pulse point.

“Fuck, baby. Say that again. Just like that.” His fingers began rolling your shirt up over the lip of your breasts, the sight enough to make him whine again in need. He couldn’t help himself from groping you, squeezing your breasts and rolling one nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Bending his neck to trail more sloppy kisses down your torso, they were his next destination.

“Oh my – Neil. Neil, I – “ You had so much to tell him, so much you needed off your chest, but his hips bucked sharply against you at the sound of his name moaned so beautifully, a low groan in his throat and his cock digging slightly inside your heat, the fabric of your panties scraping almost painfully against your walls.

“Please, Y/N, please don’t make me stop. Please let me keep touching you like this. I wanna worship you.” His hot breath shattered against a pert nipple. “Wanna fucking prove to you how much I want you.”

For a few moments, you were rendered speechless, mind whirring like the wheels on a VHS. Everything was happening so fast, and the warmth of his touch was seeping into you like honey, inundating you in a sort of comforting flame.

He could almost smell the vanilla of the candle wick burning.

You left nail marks down his chest where you clawed at the collar of his shirt, but he didn’t care. He sucked a nipple past his teeth and moaned around the taste of you, the sound so filthy that your eyes nearly rolled back in your skull as your parted lips tipped to the heavens. His name outlined by their perfect shape.

Reality came crashing down around you as you jumped, another squeal leaving your tongue as his teeth bit at your nipple and pain shot along your nerve endings.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, chest heaving, looking up at you with reverent eyes. “I didn’t mean to, I – “

You cupped his chin in your palm and shook your head. “No, Neil. I’m sorry.” A tear streaked down your cheek, beaded on your jawline. “I’m so, so sorry.” You were beginning to sob again, and his brow furrowed in concern, thumb beginning to trace small circles along your spine. “I’m sorry I abandoned you for James, I didn’t… I shouldn’t have. I didn’t know you felt this way, I – I’m so sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” he told you, his words sinking into your skin like a warm tide. With one hand, he brushed the tear from your jaw and wove his fingers into your hair, pulling you closer. “Just let me keep touching you. Please.”

When you didn’t respond for a moment, caught up in the way his blue eyes seemed to hollow with a certain hunger, the way his chest rose and fell beneath the bare flesh of your stomach, he uttered that word again:

“Please.”

You smiled, elated and giddy with joy, blood pounding with arousal, and kissed him, threading your own fingers into the fluffy locks of his hair.

Another tear streaked across your lips as they met his, and you tasted like salt and vanilla, slightly waxy from your chap-stick but the sweetest thing he’d tasted nonetheless. At first, he was embarrassed by the noises he made, the way he’d accidentally called you “baby” because he’d always wanted to do so, but he melted beneath you like butter. Nothing mattered anymore except the fact that you were finally his, that you were in his arms and grinding against his cock.

Neil broke the kiss to pull your shirt over your head, tossing it aside somewhere on the concrete – he would buy you a new one. His hands flattened against your back and pulled you flush to his chest, taking any excuse he could to hear that little squeal you made each time.

“Please, baby, please let me be inside you,” he whined, biting his lip as he stared up at you with those powder-blue eyes. Nails dug into your skin. Hips bucked against yours.

Your heart soared with his words, his worship, his want; you’d never been this ecstatic in your whole life. Part of you wanted to keep teasing him, make him beg, while another part of you ached to feel him buried to the hilt inside you.

“Patience, Neil,” you giggled, as you undid his trousers. You worked them down to his knees and your eyes widened as your hand brushed his cock, bare and springing flush against his stomach. You hadn’t expected him to not wear boxers.

Neil smiled sheepishly up at you, eyes still lidded, mouth still panting out a fevered breath. “I was in a rush getting dressed. I…” His cheeks reddened, and there was something so cute about how pathetic he looked in that moment. “You wanna know how much I want you, Y/N? I was touching myself thinking of you when you called.”

Creep, some voice in the back of his head hissed.

You bit your lip to suppress a moan, trying to ward off thoughts of Neil stroking himself to you, finishing to the thought of you. Oh, how you wished you could have witnessed the sight.

“Did you come?” you asked, a devious grin pulling at your lips as you took him in your hand, massaging a bead of pre-cum into his sensitive flesh.

His eyes fluttered, and he shook his head, his words coming out as a breathy whine,

“No, I promise. I didn’t come. Not yet.”

“Will you?” You dipped your head to let your words tickle his neck, your grip on him tightening.

“Yes,” he moaned. “Yes, yes, oh God, I will. Fuck, baby. Fuck, gonna come if you don’t stop that, need to come inside you, please, please…”

His mutterings trailed off into a low hiss of a whine, and your movements stilled, dragging him to his peak and letting him teeter at the edge as you both caught your breaths, chest heaving and a cold chill racing down your sweat-slicked back, thighs trembling around him.

“You sure you can handle this?” you purred against his ear before pulling back once more to witness the shivering mess you’d made him, priding yourself in your accomplishment. Lining his cock up with your entrance, the fabric of your panties scraped his tip teasingly as you slotted them to the side.

Neil looked up at you like you were some kind of goddess, his breathing coming laboured, his throat stripped of words. The dazed, blissful look he gave you was all the answer you needed. But you wanted to reap him of every last praise he had.

“Use your words, Neil,” you giggled, smirking.

“Ah…” His lips parted, near soundless. You watched intently as they formed the word “Please”.

You almost felt bad for him.

But it wasn’t pity that brought your hips down around him, slowly, teasingly, savouring the stretch of him against your walls and the fullness in your belly, but rather, your own need.

Neil’s head rolled back against the brick wall, blood welling at his lip where he bit it to keep himself from toppling over his peak; he nearly did it to himself when he bucked his hips upward, burying himself inside you, making you whimper at the pain that blended so sordidly with the pleasure. Your fingers tugged at his hair, and your nails grazed his scalp, and every little sensation sent him into overdrive. He used these little things to ground himself, as you had his tangled scents; he focused on how smooth your stomach felt against his own, his shirt hiking up so that you were skin to skin; he focused on the noises you made, huffing and whimpering, as you began to ride him; he focused on the softness of the breast that he cupped in his hand. Tried not to think about how you felt better than he’d imagined, how you clenched so tightly around his cock that he was almost pushed out each time you elevated your hips, but were so wet for him that he slid back inside so seamlessly each time.

“Neil,” you moaned as you fucked yourself on his cock, breast bouncing beneath his thumb, skirt fluttering around the bareness of his thighs. “Neil, fuck. Fuck.”

“Baby, I’m s—sorry. I’m gonna…”

You yelped again as pain shot deep inside your core, his hips bucking against yours with a violence you hadn’t known sweet Neil from the VHS store to possess, bottoming out inside you as his nails dug into the now-abused skin of your back and pulling you close, so close you were panting over his shoulder and his breath shattered against your ear. The hand that had been cupping your breast shot up to cradle your head, petting your hair.

He held you to him so tight, you didn’t think he’d ever let go. And you couldn’t have been happier.

Warmth spilled around his cock, sticky against your thighs, painting your insides white. You shuddered around him, balling his hair into a fist and digging your own, sharper nails, against his back.

“I didn’t mean it to be over so fast,” he mumbled into your neck. “I just… you’re so… fuck, I’ve been waiting for this for so long.”

“So have I,” you breathed. You practically hugged each other, shivering in the night air but content in each other’s warmth. “Don’t worry.” Pulling away slightly, you smiled down at him, cheeks flushing bright red. “If anything, it… it’s endearing.”

“Really?” he chuffed out a laugh.

“It…” you looked down, unable to meet that crystalline gaze. “It makes me feel wanted.” You pecked a quick kiss to his jaw, and could’ve sworn you saw love in his eyes when you pulled away.

“God, you’re perfect.” His voice broke again as his lips sought yours, and his breath hitched in his chest when the action caused you to rock your hips forward, a new sensation he’d never felt before buzzing along his skin. His mouth hung open and you laid kisses to his lips, his jaw, the Adam’s apple that bobbed along his throat. He felt his cock stiffen again inside you, already eager for Round Two.

“I should take you home,” he murmured, hands running up and down your sides. “You must be so cold.” As if just realising that he still had his jacket on, Neil shrugged it off in haste and wrapped the heavy material around your shoulders. A chill ran down your spine, as the material was damp with sweat – you smiled at how predictably forgettable he was when he had a woman on his lap, just as you’d imagined –, but his scent soothed you.

Though you were cold, it was a small sacrifice to make to stay here, with him buried so deep inside you that you felt dizzy in the head. Depleted of your energy and sinking into his warmth, you smirked, and rested your chin on his shoulder.

“I was thinking of just staying like this a while,” you admitted.

“Whatever makes you happy,” he breathed, hugging you even tighter. “Whatever you want.”

A.N. Sorry if this was a bit rough, guys. I smashed this one out the other day because I was tired of my writer's block.

I actually laid into some themes that I was planning on using for a Dark!Neil fic based on the song "Creep" which I don't know when I'll get around to writing, but let me know if you guys would like to hear more about the idea for the series or are interested.

MASTERLIST • REQUEST

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[pegglefan69]

Norris wasn’t sure if his Waiting Room Friend was gay or a hipster. (The possibility that he might be a gay hipster, or even a metrosexual had also crossed his mind.) His Waiting Room Friend was short and fat and hairy and always dressed Mod-meets-modern or Peacock Revolution with the Technicolor toned down. Today’s outfit featured a chartreuse turtleneck and several strings of multicolor glass beads. His jacket– brown corduroy, with pointy lapels–was draped over one shapely, skinny-jean-clad thigh. His hair was wavy, tousled and dark. As always, he was stunning, but his clothes gave Norris zero concrete hints as to his sexuality. ... Their introductions had consisted of, “Can I get a light, big guy?” Norris had glanced over, seen nothing, and then looked down. “Oh. Sure.”  Despite his Waiting Room Friend being a foot shorter than him, it felt to Norris like it was the other way around. His presence was magnetic. It compelled him. They didn't even spend a lot of time together– just talking and smoking, leaning against the concrete pillars a little bit down the plaza –but the way he considered anything Norris had to say, however quietly or sporadically he said it, had Norris thinking about him long after they’d parted.

Chapter Five of my ongoing novel project is here! It's a long one! We learn a little about Norris' teenhood, meet his crush, & he & Rufus attempt to start their search for Rufus' apprentice, but run into a magical complication.

If you haven't started reading yet, & 'early 2000s trans Goth accidentally gets involved in a gay wizard’s revenge quest against his former apprentice/lover’ sounds like fun, you can start reading here, for free! 🧙🌈

[vault-heck]

WIP Wednesday What-day-is-it

Thank you for the tag @twosides--samecoin! You mentioned not participating in as many tag games and such lately because of busy life stuff and I'm very much in the same boat. I always appreciate the tags and being included, thank you allllll and I'm sorry I haven't been getting to many of them :')

No-pressure tags to @x-sapphicpirate-x , @persephoning , @totally-not-deacon , @sleeplessincarcosa !

Have some ~themes~ and ~imagery~ from the first chapter of What God Doesn't Give (part 2 of the Wildfire re-write):

He fixed her with a quiet smile, halfway to another question when movement caught his eye in the tarot spread. A spider crawled across the bottom of the six of swords, a variety that appeared to have not been affected by radiation. 

“May I?” He reached for the card, and she nodded. The spider slid from its faded, smooth surface and quickly took to climbing over Noah’s knuckles. “Hey, little guy. You’ve got to go.”

There were spiders everywhere in Texas. They never really bothered him the way they did most, and that was before a great deal of insects grew by orders of magnitude. He set the spider on a mutfruit tree between a desire path and her concrete ramp, taking care to nudge it from his palm gently.

Returning from the porch, he noted the details of her apartment. It was in overall good repair. He’d scavenged foam and corduroy from the city and Sturges repurposed it for the chair Mama Murphy used inside, something with plenty of cushion and lumbar support. The fresh teal paint on her walls only chipped in a few places, and there were no cobwebs in corners or other spiders that he could see.

Still, he would need to ask Sturges to take a closer look. Maybe there was a nest or something just out of sight; that’s how the infestation started in the outhouses back at Camp Calvary.

He returned to his seat to take in the pictures on the table, and her advice, one more time. “I’d better run along, ma’am. Thank you for the reading.”

“Always so polite,” Mama Murphy smiled. She ran her hands over clover corduroy armrests. “It’s the least I could do, after you fixed me up with my at-home chair.” 

“That was all Sturges, I just brought him some of parts.” Noah retrieved his holster from a coat rack, then a slouch hat with a lightning bolt embroidered onto the leather, before stepping out. “Let us know if you need anything, Mama Murphy.”

[ryttu3k]

Whitlams? Whitlams!

Interesting venue. Kind of kitsch in a fun way. Food was very overpriced for what it was (the vegan version of the falafel burger was… a falafel patty smeared in hommus and wrapped in lettuce) and my disabled ass did not realise it was a standing venue only, so the barstool I had dragged in to the back of the room meant that while I could at least sit, I couldn't see shit.

Eh. I've seen them a bunch, and it's the sound that's the most important part <3

Early stuff featured Scott Owen from The Living End on the double bass. Gotta have the double bass for stuff from the first two albums, y'know? Setlist as below, there was a lot of singing along in general, but will mark with an asterisk for the ones that were genuinely singalong territory because that was just fun:

Gough *

End Of Your World

Where Is She?

Met My Match

1995

Winter Lovin'

The Ballad Of Lester Walker

Following My Own Tracks *

I Make Hamburgers * ("MORE SAUCE!")

No Aphrodisiac *

Fall For You (introduced with, "Let's do something from this century!")

In The Last Life

Charlie No. 2 * (singalong here was very sweet, I think Tim toned down his own mic to showcase the audience a bit more? Like it was almost the audience singing it with Tim accompanying)

Melbourne *

Charlie No. 3

Royal In The Afternoon *

I Will Not Go Quietly *

Laugh In Their Faces

Blow Up The Pokies

Up Against The Wall (an interesting note on the passage of time - when it came out in 1997, it had the lyric, "She was one in a million / so there's five more just in New South Wales." There are now eight million people in NSW!)

I Get High (with Jak performing Stevie's parts)

Happy Days

You Sound Like Louis Burdett * (extremely enthusiastic!! Definitely not alone in this being my favourite!)

Then, for the encore:

You Don't Even Know My Name

I'm Different

Thank You *

Album count: Introducing (6), Undeniably (7), Eternal Nightcap (7), Love This City (2), Torch The Moon (3), none from Little Cloud, Sancho (1). So very heavily from the first three albums, aside from Thank You and Blow Up The Pokies, Fall For You, I Will Not Go Quietly, and Royal in the Afternoon, and In The Last Life.

Actually quite amusing looking at the different crowd demographics when you consider my last concert, which was… Måneskin. To be expected when one band has an average age of about 23 and the other has an average age of about 57, haha. I'm an oldie when it comes to Måneskin fans, but a lot of the crowd tonight were more like… youngish boomers, older millennials, but pretty solidly gen Xers who were teens and young adults for when those first three albums came out between 1993 and 1997. (The Måneskin members weren't even born yet!) I got into them a bit after the Love This City release when I was 13, so I was actually on the younger side.

There was a dude there wearing a black velvet shirt, bright blue corduroy flares, and a white belt. Fab outfit tbh.

Got a tour shirt. Expensive but it has my favourite lyrics from my favourite song on it (from Louis Burdett - "Banana chairs out on the concrete / telling stories to the stars"), and also they've been one of my favourite bands for... shit, coming up on twenty-five years now, and I still don't have any merch. I kinda had to.

So, really good, aside from the overpriced food and the whole 'can't see shit' part!

[dumbassnamedkhoshekh]

Allow me to introduce myself!

My name is Ian, and I've been here a couple months now, so I probably should have done this sooner, but here's my intro post!

About Me

My name is Ian (what a shocker, I know)

I am 21 years old

I use any pronouns (though I am partial to non-masc ones despite my tragically AMAB nature)

I am a disaster bisexual

I am a dumbass

Some of my favorite things :)

Books

Riordanverse 🔱

The Harry Potter Series (if JKR didn't screw it up so badly with insensitive tropes and being a transphobe) 🪄

The Menagerie Series 🦄

DC Comics (especially Nightwing and Wayne Family Adventures) 🦸🏻‍♂️

Heartstopper 🏳️‍🌈

Wikipedia™ rabbit trails 💻

This one specific TLoZ fanfic called Skyward Sword: Saxophone AU 🎷

Music

Hozier 🏞️

AURORA 🌕

Chappell Roan 💃

Beabadoobee 🍂

Olivia Rodrigo 🧛🏽‍♀️

AJR 🎹

Paramore 🦋

My Chemical Romance 💀

Taylor Swift 🎸

Daisy The Great 🪞

Garfunkel and Oates 👩🏼‍🤝‍👩🏻

Twenty One Pilots 👨🏻‍✈️

Hamilton ⭐

Dear Evan Hansen (questionable handling of mental health issues but goddamn it has a ton of bops) 🪟

Games

DUNGEONS AND DRAGONS FIRST AND FOREMOST 🎲

The Legend of Zelda 🧝🏼‍♂️

Dust: An Elysian Tail (this game never got enough attention) 🗡️

Pokémon 🐀

Minecraft ⛏️

Mario Kart 🏎️

Movies

Little Women (2019) 👭

Wonder Woman ⚔️

Spider-Man: Into The Spider-Verse 🕸️

The Lego Batman Movie 🦇

The Fault In Our Stars 💔

tick, tick...boom! 🎹

Ponyo 🐟

Avengers: Infinity War 🌌

Captain Marvel 🌟

Megamind 🧠

Onward 🚐

Tangled 💇🏼‍♀️

Spaceballs 🚀

Honorable mentions:

Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: The Movie 🐢

The Emperor's New Groove 🦙

The Mitchells vs. the Machines 🤖

Black Panther 🐈‍⬛

Rogue One: A Star Wars Story 🌑

Guardians of the Galaxy: Vol. 3 🦝

Moana 🌊

(Order not exactly concrete)

Shows

The Owl House 🦉

The Last Of Us 🍄

Gravity Falls 🌲

Gen V 💉

X-Men '97 🎇

The Legend of Vox Machina 🏰

Helluva Boss 😈

Young Justice 🥷🏼

Arcane 🧁

The Boys 🧔🏻

Good Omens 😈

My Adventures With Superman 🦸🏻‍♂️

Inside Job 🥼

Dead End: Paranormal Park 🎢

Amphibia 🐸

Heartstopper 🌈

Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles 🐢

Parks and Recreation 🏞️

Steven Universe (Future is overhated) ⭐

Avatar: The Last Airbender 💨

Stranger Things 🚵🏻

X-Men: Evolution ❎

I have several more, these are just what my top ones are

Others

Podcasts: The Magnus Archives 👁️📼🕸️, The Adventure Zone (favorite arc: Amnesty) 🪓🌂📕, Welcome To Night Vale 👁️🌵🐈‍⬛

Animals: Cats, bats, owls, and dogs 🐈🦇🦉🐕

Colors: Purple and sea foam green

Characters: Luz Noceda, Dick Grayson (Nightwing), Ellie Williams, Piotr Rasputin (Colossus), Hunter (TOH), Kamala Khan (Ms Marvel), Wendy Corduroy, Magnus Chase, Raphael Hamato, Link AND Zelda, and Reagan Ridley

Foods: Waffles, tacos, any pasta with alfredo, cheesecake, mint chocolate chip ice cream, and nanimo bars

Activities: Drawing, singing, ukulele/piano, sharing every single piece of my personal information online (as shown above), freaking out over common interests, being silly

Epilogue

I am steadfastly unapologetic for the too much information I have put on here (which goes against my nature as a half-Canadian)

Just kidding. I am so sorry.

Anyways, I hope you had a great time meeting me! I hope I'm cool or something like that :)

[news-wtf]

World's largest 3D-printed neighborhood nears completion in Texas

As with any desktop 3D printer, the Vulcan printer pipes layer by layer to build an object – except this printer is more than 45 feet (13.7 m) wide, weighs 4.75 tons and prints residential homes.

This summer, the robotic printer from ICON is finishing the last few of 100 3D-printed houses in Wolf Ranch, a community in Georgetown, Texas, about 30 miles from Austin.

ICON began printing the walls of what it says is the world's largest 3D-printed community in November 2022. Compared to traditional construction, the company says that 3D printing homes is faster, less expensive, requires fewer workers, and minimizes construction material waste.

"It brings a lot of efficiency to the trade market," said ICON senior project manager Conner Jenkins. "So, where there were maybe five different crews coming in to build a wall system, we now have one crew and one robot."

After concrete powder, water, sand and other additives are mixed together and pumped into the printer, a nozzle squeezes out the concrete mixture like toothpaste onto a brush, building up layer by layer along a pre-programmed path that creates corduroy-effect walls.

The single-story three- to four-bedroom homes take about three weeks to finish printing, with the foundation and metal roofs installed traditionally.

[kytedevlin]

Summer Short Pt. 2

Pt.1

EXT RAIN NIGHT Apartment Building

The camera waits outside a lonely apartment building. Yellow lights begin to illuminate the building and a car can be heard in the distance as it pulls up to the curb to park. A beat up baby blue volkswagen bug. It sits there for a few moments in the rain before the lights turn off. The camera enters the vehicle and Henry is sitting there with his hands still on the wheel. He sighs and places his head between his hands and onto the steering wheel. And begins to mumble to himself.

Henry:*mumbling inaudibly*

He slowly moves his right hand down to turn off the engine. The vibrations from the classic hum of the volkswagen bugs v6 engine grind to a halt with a few extra ticks, clicks, and tanks as the engine sputters off. Henry slowly raises his head and exits his vehicle into the rain. He pulls his suit jacket over his head and grabs his suitcase from the car, before using that to block the rain. He quickly makes his way towards the doorstep and tries leaping over the last puddle but he doesn’t clear it all the way, the puddle splashes with much more water than he was expecting, that particular area in front of the door has a significant divet due to the degrade of the concrete outside of his complex. The amount of water drenches his socks enough to leave a cold pool of water at the bottom of his shoes. He rings the buzzer with a reluctant grimace that could only be seen as the agonizing anticipation to some impending doom. The buzzer rings back almost as quickly as he releases the button causing Henry to jump as if he had briefly fallen asleep, and with a bolt and a click the gate unlocks allowing him into the lobby.

INT. Apartment Lobby

His steps are almost careful at the cadence of which he sluggishly walks towards the end of the hall to the elevator. The corridor a dimly lit yellow, an almost serene loneliness fills the air as the echoes of his footsteps only stand to disrupt the otherwise peaceful hall. He opens the cage to the elevator and steps in, his visions seems to stretch his arm about the same distance of the hallway he just walked through before it reaches the buttons. He takes pause at this realization, he is still noticeably shaken, and his once noticeable discomfort has no transformed into utter panic, the nervous spasms seize his hand with noticeable tremors, his face reddened and brow beaten with sweat. He reaches out slowly to press the single button amidst 15 identical glowing orange buttons.

7

He presses the button and the elevator door closes, with a scrape and a ding. The camera is at the other end of the hallway, watching door close. The camera stays there watching the floors above the elevator change. With each floor that is reached. Ding!….Ding!…..Ding!….Ding!….Ding!……………………

The elevator stops for an extended period of time. The camera appears above Henry, the view from the surveillance camera in the top left corner of the elevator cab. Two laughing children are racing toward the hallway, a boy and a girl, jackets being put on and hanging half off their shoulder as they haphazardly enter the elevator, their father in tow. A man about a half a head taller than Henry, with brown hair neatly shaved down on the sides and coiffed on its top with a slight swoosh to it, the man doesn’t grease it down but it it is visibly holding some moisture or oil making its appearance a darker brown almost black color. He is ruggedly shaven with a a decently hearty and neatly curled moustache and a short slightly pointed beard, His eyes a a mixture of blue, green, and brown, often changing color from one day to the next. He wears a grey petticoat with green corduroy sweater with a red scarf tucked neatly within to stave off the cold. Tightly fitted dark blue jeans and an almost orange-tan light brown pair of pointed rodeo boots.

Kids: *Giggling Inaudibly*

Father: Hey could you guys wait up? *Exhaustedly*

Boy: Hurry up dad we are going to be late.

Girl: Yeah dad hurry up!

Father: Phew! Made it. Oh!… Henry, I almost didn’t see you there. Thanks for holding the door.

Henry: Hi Walther. How is the Mrs.?

Walther:Oh she is great, going to go see her now. Hey, my daughters birthday is coming up, you should bring yours. There will be games and cake it will be loads of fun.

Boy: Ew, i bet they are going to play with dolls all night.

Walther: Its her day she gets to choose, you already had your birthday remember?

Girl: Yeah!

Boy: *Scoffs*

Walther: So whaddya say?

Henry: I’ll have to ask, but i don’t see why not…*nervously*

Walther: Perfect! I’ll send you the details once we get it all planned out. Hey…. Sorry to ask, but, do you mind if we go down first, if we weren’t in such a rush I wouldn’t as-

Henry: *Dryly* Sure.

The elevator door closes with another, this time we are watching the elevator dial up close as it begins counting down the floors to the first. ding!…..ding!……..ding!……..ding!……ding!

The kids rush out from the elevator as though their game never ended, their father Walther in tow as he waves goodbye to Henry. Henry only has time to raise his hand up to wave before they are already at the end of the hallway, buzzing out of the front door, a word hardly escapes his lips. The door to the elevator closes once again. And again we see the elevator dial up close, counting up from the first floor to the seventh. Ding!……Ding!……Ding!……Ding!……Ding!…………………………..Ding!

INT. Apartment 7th Floor

The door opens up on Henry’s floor. He begins to walk down the lonely isle. His door located 2nd to the end of the hallway. He reaches the door, and there is a yellow notice on the front door. A notice he has seen before and the exact one he was dreading,

EVICTION

January 5th, 2076

INT. Henry’s Home

It reads…. In bold black print in the most obnoxiously expected typeface. He grabs the notice, and unlocks the door, as he walks inside he tosses the yellow letter onto the counter next to the entryway, and it lands gently next to two others. His home appears empty, lightly furnitured and almost the mirror image of his office, adorned with bookshelves filled to the brim and overflowing on to the furniture. A fire can be heard crackling, illuminating the dusty interior of the cozy home. Large cascading windows that peer out into the distance of the city amidst the utter darkness of the rainy night. That is only interrupted by a staircase that leads up to a second story. He sets down his damp, soggy suitcase and begins to kick off his now soggy shoes from fully absorbing the pool that had once filled them, and his lightly damp brown blazer. Just as he gets his blazer on the coat rack a voice appears from around the corner.

Woman: *Elated* Honey, you’re home.

A vibrant voice chimes. His once tired, exhausted and nervous face now, straightened and regular. His weary gaze now abundant with life as he stares upon a ginger haired woman, slightly teased with a clean cut fringe. Her expression a refreshing smile amongst a heavily freckled and sun-kissed complexion, her natural beauty accentuated but her petite and round tipped nose tucked just below a pair of deep hazy emerald eyes. Her clothing is casual, a light purple silk shirt embroidered with flowers featuring sun flowers, lily’s, and roses, loosely draped over her shoulders exposing her sun-kissed chest, tucked into a pair of baby blue denim jeans. She looks over to the counter with which a new notice has just been added to the existing ones. Her expression turns pensive.

Woman:*Frustrated* uuhck… another one? I told them we would be sending the rent in after the holiday.

Henry: Yeah it looks like it.

Woman: *Annoyed* Good grief that Walther is always so impatient, or do you think it’s his wife that is being so pushy?

Henry: I wouldn’t even know where to start.

Changing the subject.

Woman: *Elated* Anyways honey, would you like a cup of tea?

Henry: I would love one, Victoria.

[corduroyinstitute]

Sunday, November 12, 2023: The album cover of Take the Train to Manchester begins to take a concrete shape with a photoshoot.

Earlier that week, S.A. Morin had arranged to meet an acquaintance whose aesthetic echoed the figure in an image we found of 1970s Manchester. In the late afternoon, they met in the Golden Hill area of San Diego to take advantage of golden hour lighting conditions. She wore a decadent coat which would prove essential for the album cover's intent.

S.A. Morin employed different photographic approaches and angles during this photoshoot. His intent was to capture images that could convey the mood of the music whilst reflecting the 1970s image that inspired this shoot.

Beyond close ups and posed shots, he also took photographs which employed his Nikon D90 camera's multiple exposure abilities. These images were meant to allude to the early 20th century work of art which also inspired our cover concept.

The hour-long photoshoot yielded a large number of images. The pair said their goodbyes, and soon afterwards Corduroy Institute convened to transform reality into something transcendent.

[noplansl]

Hair : Dura : U120-FAT PACK A Sweater : GASET : ONYX TYAGO SWEATER Pants : not so bad . : mesh . NINO corduroy pants . black Shoes : Semller : Worn Canvas Hi Tops Dancing Skeletons White

----------------------------------------------------------------

Black . Sand : Amelie Full Sofa :Brown: -PG- ..::THOR::.. : Magazines {vespertine} : -sunny rattan magazine rack. [Merak] : Clay Vase Color B Mithral : Cracked Concrete Coffee Table (Beige Concrete) DIRAM : Blouson/L ForeArm V_Unisex- Camo Fancy Decor : Wood Floor Tile Nutmeg. : Home Gallery

Muniick : Dwyer Vintage Record Cabinet Muniick : Vinyl Collection Crate Vol.1 Muniick : Album - Single

Nutmeg. : Painter's Attic Complete Set

Nutmeg. Painter's Attic Coffee Cup / 1

Nutmeg. Painter's Attic Coffee Tray / 2

Nutmeg. Painter's Attic Pizza Box

Nutmeg. Painter's Attic Paper Bag

Black . Sand : Kenzo Wall Display -DARK- ..::THOR::.. : Post Cards - Wall -David Heather- : Clothes Bag Apple Fall : West Village Fiddle Leaf Fig Fancy Fall : Homalomena Plant

231216 Tumblr : https://t.co/peOzPx8rbK pic.twitter.com/qUwVjBv2cE

— Ton (@Ton_Thumper) December 16, 2023

[vartouhix]

@godsbox continued from x

the kids fought like toy soldiers from up high, like little pieces scattered on a chess board, watching from further along the grassy incline leading towards the track field out of consideration ( or a concrete rule : gojou sensei's presence was too distracting, apparently. a shadow too large &. looming for peace of mind or what'd been described to him as his unhelpful suggestions. ) but surveying regardless was an endless build up of a wishful thinking punctuated with a someday, crossed &. dotted in reassurance like a bubble slow to bleed at the narrow of his throat ── when she wanders his way, he's glad for the company. glad to shut his eyes beneath the fabric, to roll his head by the ball of the bone and to brag, show off, prove the benefits of all his law violations to anyone who'd listen ( nobody, really. majority of these kids should've been picked off like rotten seeds infesting the vine ) and gojou only thinks to click his teeth shut &. let go of that mindless static blanketing across his limbs when there's a rustling at his ear, an untouched pressure at his shoulder : the intuitiveness in a void of sensation. ❝ . . . delicate hobby for you. thought you were heavier handed than that. ❞

half in jest, that kick to give undeserved shit always lingering like a late seasonal cold, the edges of gojou's lips'd ticked up while he'd swept fingertips to tap blindly at the crown of his skull, prickled by stems &. soothed again in the flattened press of petals threading around the strands of his hair ─ color into colorlessness. nice. sick. ❝ what, i do something good lately ? can't remember. ❞ [ ☁️ ]

Small hands pressed into the brown corduroy that wrapped her hips, Jangmi cocked her head slightly at the other instructor, eyebrows ticking up and onyx eyes blinking a few times in rapid succession. "Oh?" The syllable left her rather casually. Though many would describe Gojo as nothing more than a shit-stirrer, she didn't quite hold the same sentiment. Perhaps his antics entertained her to a degree (which she resolved to keep to herself). Maybe she was too patient for her feathers to get ruffled easily. Or, it was equally possible that he just hadn't found the right buttons to push to rile her up like he seemed to be able to do to their colleagues. Regardless, some might bristle at the insinuation of being clumsy or insensitive, but she knew the opposite was true, so it didn't bother her. "Like you would know," she quipped. "You don't pay enough attention to anyone else but the kids to know what degree of 'delicate' I am."

Jangmi watched with curious eyes as he inspected the flower crown with his sense of touch, and a smile slowly spread across her lips at his reaction. "Not particularly," she answered. "I just thought you'd look prettier with it."

[ganainmaonanam]

Suffocating.

That’s what it feels like walking around this shop.

I’m sweating underneath my watercolour stained zip up, my skin is clammy and I’m uncomfortably aware of the cashiers loud chewing. Her thin hair is pinned to the top of her head with a gold clamp that matches her glinting lip piercing. Her cheap plastic name tag is neatly pinned to her bosom. Máire.

“Excuse me Miss.”

Máire is looking at me. I see her lips moving but can’t figure out any words. As I look at her I notice her left eye slightly drifts the other direction. Is she actually looking at me? Wait, maybe it’s someone behind me?Oh god I can’t tell-

“You’re next in line, love.”

I get a gentle prod in the back and turn to see a kind women with a round face looking at me expectantly.

“Oh!”

I scuttle to the cash register with heated cheeks. How did I not get the hint? It’s this place I swear, the fluorescent lights and the squeaky Lino floors are making my brain feel heavy and my eyes itchy.

Hastily, I throw my clothes on the counter for Máire to scan.

“Find everything you needed today?” she says, chewing even slower and louder than before.

“Oh yeah I did, thanks!” Oh god, why did I say it like that. Why was I so enthusiastic? That was embarrassing. I can feel my cheeks heating up again.

Máire finishes packing up my purchases with as much enthusiasm as any human can muster while working with the public. I grab my paper bag that is inevitably going to tear later and mumble a thank you before speed walking towards the exit. Awkwardly fumbling with my bag to wrestle my purse back in I hit the cool outdoor air.

Ah. Freedom.

I breathe in slowly and allow the cold to wrap my sweaty overstimulated body. I finally feel human again.

I walk down the street. I take a left. I realise it’s the wrong turn and walk back to the Main Street, praying no one saw that. I then take my correct left turn and make my way down the quiet street. I’m so focused on the sound of my worn out boots on the concrete, thudding along in a rhythmic fashion, I barely register the small red head directly in front of me.

I swerve, and just miss her.

“Oh I’m so sorry! I’m sorry!” I say, pulling my swinging shopping bag behind me as if it was a misbehaving dog.

I get a good look at her face. She looks offended. The girl is tiny, her frame consumed by the oversized army green corduroy jacket she’s wearing. Her face is slightly scrunched up, and littered lightly with tan freckles and acne. I look and wonder how long it would take to count all the freckles splayed across her button nose and rosy cheeks. I wonder if anyone’s taken the time before to do that.

I move down to what she’s wearing, besides the comically oversized jacket. A frayed blue jumper, a black denim skirt, birkenstocks. A unique look, sort of like one a toddler might pull together when their Mam finally lets them dress themselves.

What is wrong with me. Who am I to judge her. Look at you. Oh god. I’ve been staring.

I make my exit, not exactly swiftly but with haste. I don’t look behind me to see if she’s looking at me. I just keep walking.

I finally head into my intended destination, the charity shop. I lazily flick through the stand alone railings of previously loved clothes but I can’t focus. I’m thinking about the confused jacket girl. Maybe I should of asked her if she needed directions or something. Might have been better off though, she could have been some kind of escaped asylum junkie. Although she didn’t look it. Looks are deceiving I guess.

I head out of the shop empty handed and there she is, still standing in practically the exact same spot. She lifts her head from her phone for a moment and glances across the street, thumb nail in between her teeth before looking at her phone again. She seems frustrated and spins in circles before looking up at the sky and letting out a small huff at the world for inconveniencing her.

I don’t like how she’s alone. I know I’m alone too but I know this city. She seems lost, the street is quiet but not completely deserted. I guess I’ll take my chances with the asylum junkie.

“Are you okay? Do you needed help?”

She looks up at me and for a second seems startled. I tower over her by almost foot. I realise now I probably don’t seem like the most approachable person.

“Uh. N- yeah. Kinda.” She manages to stutter out with a generic American accent.

She’s pretty.

“I’m looking for this boba shop but I got fucking lost.”

I hum in recognition and gave a look at the directions opened on her phone.

Through clenched teeth she lets out a sigh that tells me it’s more than the impossible to find boba shop that’s annoying her.

“Well, I’m on the way there now, I could walk you to it if you want?” I stun myself when I hear those words come out of my mouth. Why did I say that? I had no intention of going there today. My head is racing for some reason and suddenly my hands are clammy again.

Her face softens a bit at that, like she’s contemplating what I just said. “Oh. Yeah. Sure.”

She gives me a small lopsided smile, the kind of awkward smile you give someone after they help you up off the floor.

“Kai, by the way. My name is Kai.”

“I’m Quinn.”

“I’m not that used to people being helpful. I don’t really know anyone here that I could ask either so I’m kinda fucked for directions.”

I give her a smile.

“Well, you’ve got me for now I guess. That’s something.”

She chuckles at that and smiles at me. I like this girl a lot.

[phthalominekitty]

what we all want.

8/6/2001

[1] we were downtown, dressed up in raspberry corduroy and slinky black tops. i was laying across a bench in front of a shoe shop, disintegrating against a backdrop of perfectly matching parallel flowers encased in brick. someone had drawn a picture of satan in black over the grain of the concrete. he was glaring up at me, preaching about my iminent downfall. all i could do was sigh and stare up at the streetlights, the white-hot globes surrounded by gold. the yellow-red-green monotony. it all added to the moment. if i hadn't moved i would have lost it. literally, all over the concrete, i would reverse the natural process and reveal to the world the secrets of my shoddy diet. sorry mom, i know i haven't been eating right.

[2] we were at steak n shake, dressed up in raspberry corduroy and slinky black tops. i ran in, ahead of sandy and t-spice, because i wanted to beat their lovesick rush. there was no warm welcome, but that was fine because i was giggling internally about the appearance of my four male co-workers. they were most likely discussing the numerous gallons of overpriced hair products used to make their hair more and more dragonball z-esque. i wanted to scream at them, "DUDE, just use the cheap stuff. it always works better than the rest, just because you'd never expect it. you wonder why it's always been around? not because it doesn't work, dorks." but i didn't say a word. i merely raised my eyebrows in a quizzical fashion and gave them a half-smile. they're nice boys, really.

[3] we were at my house, dressed up in raspberry corduroy and slinky black tops. i threw my keys down on the floor so they could work their way into some sort of a hiding place. they like the way i fuss when i can't find them in the morning. sandy began the art of dominating the remote control while i broke out the oil paints. i randomly chose two colors, which happened to be purple and white. a strange creation ensued, which i deem to be the manifestation of my desire to dance in a social setting with a smoke-infested, swirling lights kind of atmosphere. sandy dubbed it "staxx" while i scoffed and set it up in front of the fan. oil paints take eons to dry during the summer months. the strange things that run directly out of sophie's mind.

it was a good night.

[bauzeitgeist]

The wonderful, twisting-serpent staircases which slither out from underneath the upper floors, flowing from the raised inner courtyard through the gate-like portal of Paul Rudolph’s Government Service Center. Lindemann Center at the Boston Government Services Center. Paul Rudolph for Desmond & Lord, 1962-71. Photos May & October 2020 Bauzeitgeist.

[asquer]

Boston, MA Government Service Center by ArchiTexty Via Flickr: The Government Service Center by Paul Rudolph was designed in 1962 and finished in 1971. It's in the Brutalist style with his signature ribbed concrete or "corduroy concrete".

[veronicadelica]

pure, Rugby, 2016

Weronika Dudka