#japanese stucco

[toonass]

New York Landscape

Inspiration for a small stone garden on a hillside in Asia.

[laceysturmquotes]

New York Landscape Inspiration for a small stone garden on a hillside in Asia.

[francysbelle]

Modern Bedroom in Los Angeles A large minimalist master bedroom with a beige floor, a corner fireplace, gray walls, and other features is shown.

[zetragildcosplay]

Stucco Exterior in Los Angeles

[mangostarjam]

summertime madness — kaiju no. 8, narumi gen x f!reader, "babe" as a petname, sorta rivals to lovers, smut, oral (f!receiving), unprotected sex, written for @tetzoro's summer olympics collab, 3.7k words

"Fucking bite me, Narumi."

"I'm trying, dummy!"

You stop your hasty escape abruptly, but luckily Narumi Gen's reflexes are good enough that he catches you around the waist as he stumbles into you, one palm slamming flat on the stucco wall of the alleyway to keep both of you from bouncing into it. His chest heaves against your back as he huffs. He doesn't let go of your waist.

"What did you—? Narumi, you just called the Japanese men's volleyball team ugly. You're the one walking around with shitty dyed hair!"

"My hair's natural, babe, unlike that bleached blonde sitting way too close to you," Gen grumbles. You can feel the summer Parisian air getting stickier with humidity by the second, not at all helped by Gen's body heat so close to your own. "Besides, I can prove it."

You don't even want to think about how he could try proving something like that. You dig your elbow into his side instead. "Get off me, dummy."

His grip loosens, but he doesn't move. You manage to spin around and his hand settles on the dip of your waist, his nose brushing yours as he grins cheekily at your averted gaze. "This is the longest conversation we've had since we got here, y'know."

"It's your own damn fault you're so obnoxious," you mumble, turning your head slightly so his breaths just puff against your cheek. The sticky heat feels hushed. Charged. Your gaze snags on the flex of his arm bracing against the wall behind you.

A distraction. You need a distraction.

"Your mouth is what got you into trouble with the Japanese men's football team yesterday, too. They were going to offer us free tickets to their next home games."

"That sleepy white haired guy was looking at you too much," Gen says flatly. You finally meet his red eyes squarely as the corner of his lips tugs up. "I can get you one of those chocolate muffins you were asking him for. Besides, I was just looking out for you — as your captain." Your cheeks feel hot. "Now why don't you tell me more about what you think of my mouth?"

"I think you need to shut up."

"You can make me?"

Your nose wrinkles before you can stop yourself and Gen laughs. He finally backs off but grabs your hand, lacing your fingers together and tugging you down the alleyway. "Save your shitty pickup lines for all your new social media followers," you bite out, but you let him pull you along anyway.

"Hey," Gen says, glancing at you from beneath his bangs as you catch up to his pace. "How come you never like my thirst traps? I post those for you, y'know?"

You digest this for a moment, torn between wanting to poke fun at him for lying through his teeth (how could they be for you when you're just you? it's gotta be for the thousands of new followers he gets every day now that he's an Olympian) and speaking aloud the admission that could change your relationship forever (but only if he's serious — though it feels rude, to question him, when his hand squeezes yours).

The two of you pause at a crosswalk and he tugs you close as the crowd presses in. Paris is teeming with pedestrians and cars and it's nice, being together in your own little bubble as incomprehensible chatter fills the space around you. Gen's better at navigating the street signs and the many twisting turning side streets, so you let him lead the way and he lets you stick close.

"Where did you even learn about thirst traps, captain?" It's the middle ground, a safe route.

Gen shrugs and you stare as his broad shoulders shift beneath his stupid "Sincere" t-shirt. "I saw some of the other athletes doing it to promote their sports."

"And you think locker room photos where you flash your abs will suddenly make everyone want to join their nearest swim team?"

Red eyes cut to yours and you blink. Gen's smile is lopsided, curled like a kitty cat. You want to smack it off his face. "So you have seen them."

Of course you've seen them. Not that you needed to — a shirtless Narumi Gen is not a rare sight for you, not when you've been training under the same coach for half your lives — but the thirst traps are… different. Whoever taught him to pose so effortlessly needs to get pushed into the Seine.

"What're you talking about?"

"You know I took those pics in the locker rooms," Gen says. He sounds so smug it makes your blood boil.

"It was a lucky guess," you lie through your teeth, "locker rooms are a classic backdrop."

Gen frowns. "How do you know so much about other peoples' thirst traps?"

You're nearing your dorms in the Olympic Village, and your ear catches other languages besides French and English swimming through the air. Athletes of all shapes and sizes and nationalities begin to converge along the path. Gen tucks you closer into his side.

"Uh, I don't live under a rock," you say, only to forget the rest of your thought when someone walking in front of you glances back to meet your eyes.

He's tall, with wavy brown hair and a pretty face. Something about his build reminds you of the volleyball team you just left earlier. "Are you two Japanese?" he asks, in perfect Japanese. He's also wearing a jacket with the Argentina flag on it.

"Yes," you respond automatically.

The guy's polite smile breaks out into a wide grin. "Perfect! What sport are you here for?"

"Swimming," Gen says shortly. "Excuse me, she's having a meeting with her team captain."

"Oho? And who's that?"

"Me," Gen says. The Argentinian Japanese guy gives you a sly grin and an eyebrow wiggle. It kind of makes you want to hit him.

Gen steers you away before either of you can say anything else. Goosebumps erupt along your skin as the blast of air conditioning washes over you upon entry into the dorms and you valiantly try to suppress a shiver. The lobby is practically empty compared to outside, but a few athletes look up and eye the two of you with blatant interest.

"There are too many goddamn hot people here," Gen complains. He leads you down a hallway and flashes you a smirk. "Good thing I'm the hottest one around."

You stifle the urge to roll your eyes, well used to Gen's bursts of ego. He is hot — you won't deny that, not now — but the thing you've always been drawn to the most is how he cares. It isn't obvious, like with any of your previous relationships. Gen just works extra hard out of sight — long practices late at night when he says he stayed up gaming, not knowing that you spotted him hoisting himself out of the pool under the moonlight, droplets glistening along every dip and plane of his muscled back.

Gen also doesn't interact much with the rest of Team Japan, but they all rally around him as their captain. Everyone is aware that they can depend on him to anchor their relays or direct them to the right venues because he's seemingly picked up a lot of useful phrases in those international video game lobbies (and in the quick study language books you've spotted hidden beneath the mess of his rooms).

You don't think he knows that you know any of this about him.

You don't know if it matters.

Gen ushers you into a room as you ruminate, shutting the door behind you and quickly shoving the mess on the floor aside so there's a clear path to his bed. You stare at him.

"Narumi… how is your dorm so messy," you ask helplessly. "We've only been here for three days."

"I have a gift," he shrugs. You can't help the laugh that bubbles up, but Gen watches you, pleased.

You shiver a little as another blast of cold air fills the room. "So what did we need to talk about, captain?"

Gen picks up a hoodie and offers it to you, watching wordlessly as you accept it and pull it on. It's oversized on you, dropping heavily to your thighs and covering your hands completely, so you shove up the sleeves as best as you can. "Thanks."

Gen turns around and crouches on the floor. "I can't do this. Fuck."

Uh, oh. Is the stress of competing at the Olympics getting to him?

"Um…" you crouch next to him and hesitate a second before resting your palm on his back. He's warm through his t-shirt, the shift and bunch of his muscles annoyingly attractive even as worry bubbles up in your chest. "Are you… good?"

"You'resofuckingcuteIwannadie."

You rub his back a little harder. "Narumi-kun?"

"I wanna eat you out."

Your hand freezes. Gen shoves his hands roughly through his hair and peeks over at you, a tiny frown on his lips. Red eyes skip over your face — pausing on your softly parted lips, your eyes wide with shock, the way your cheeks puff with a stuttered breath. You don't know if you should bolt or play it off as a joke. Years of a (mostly) friendly rivalry stack up in the back of your mind like weights.

You've always been rivals and teammates. Never competing directly against each other in the pool, but always there, ready to egg each other on to faster and better times. Supporting each other through muscle cramps and plateaus and practices beginning before sunrise.

But you haven't talked to him in the three days since coming to Paris.

"I want you," he says clearly, twisting his body to catch your hands in his own, "to cum all over my face wearing nothing but my hoodie."

"Narumi…"

"Just one chance," Gen says. He brings your hands to his chest and flattens your palms against his heart, so that you can feel the rabbit fast beat thundering away. "Give me one shot, and if you don't fall for me or my dick, I'll leave you alone and you can flirt with all the other Japanese athletes."

"You're lying," you mutter. You can't quite look him in the eye, so you focus on the pout of his lips instead. "There's no way you'd leave me alone. And I wasn't flirting, I was trying to get as many freebies and tickets as possible."

Gen keeps both of your hands pressed to his chest as he reaches up to tilt your face towards him. You squeeze your eyes shut. "I wouldn't leave you alone because there's no way you'd leave me after I'm done with you."

You can feel his thumb brush lightly along the soft skin beneath your eye. This conversation feels incomprehensible. You can barely hear yourself over the thundering of your own heartbeat. "You'd be done with me?"

He cups your face with his hand and you squeeze your eyes shut tighter. "Never."

The first time Gen kisses you, it's soft and hesitant, like he still expects you to pull away even after all this time. His lips are careful against yours, his tongue gentle as he swipes along the seam of your lips. You part them with a quiet gasp, an unspoken agreement, and his next kiss is a little hungrier, a little harsher. Heat bubbles up in your ribcage as he brings you into his lap, manhandling you in a way that makes your head rush, his hands heavy on your hips.

You clutch at his shoulders and sink your hand into his hair when he nips at your lip, drawing out a startled little sound and jerking in his lap. The movement brings you right up against the thick, hot bulge of him in his gray sweatpants. Gen pants into your mouth as he carefully, slowly rolls his hips up into yours, watching with hooded eyes when your head falls back at the feeling.

"You're so fucking hot," he mumbles, leaning up to suck a bruise into the sensitive skin of your neck. You feel the sharp nip of teeth and flinch, but he soothes the spot with his tongue before you can protest. "You've got a qualifying swim tomorrow, yeah? Hold on, let me loosen you up for it."

Gen reaches up and snags the blanket off his bed, spreading it out behind you before laying you down on it like something precious. He stays close, pressing his body along yours as he kisses his way along your neck, drinking in your stuttered breaths and quiet little gasps like he's been waiting his whole life to hear them. "N-Narumi —"

"Here, babe, let me —" Gen's ears are bright red, but he drags your pants and undies off in one movement, tugging when they snag at your knees and ankles and tossing them aside impatiently. "Fuck, is all this for me?"

Rough hands shove your thighs apart and you squirm, hot beneath the thick plush of his hoodie. Gen kisses along your bare legs, his touch feather soft at the bend of your knee and the curve of your thigh, so you get no warning when his tongue swipes broadly up your center.

You choke.

"Ha — oh, fuck — Narumi —"

"Quit calling me that," Gen huffs, diving back in like a man starved. He moans right into your pussy and you squirm, eyes clenching shut as every nerve ending lights up and dances like sparks to your core. His tongue is relentless, dipping and digging into every fold, circling your clit and tugging it into his lips so he can suck on it lightly, sending all of your thoughts spiraling into a crash of pleasure. Gen yanks your hips closer to his face as you begin to ride his tongue, chasing the overwhelming ache between your legs and throwing your arm over your face as you sob.

"Oh, please, please Narumi fuck," you yelp as he sucks particularly harshly at your clit. You peer shakily down and meet his eyes — darkened with lust — as he raises one eyebrow at you in wordless command.

Gen slides one finger into your clenching walls and crooks it, massaging a spot that makes you gush around him until you feel tears leaking from the corners of your eyes. You're so — so close —

"Gen, please," you moan.

He hums and resumes the lightning fast flick of his tongue against your clit, the pattern and pressure somehow exactly right to send you diving over the edge of your orgasm with a cry. Oh — wow. Pleasure whites out your vision for a moment and dances at the edges as you blink helplessly at the ceiling afterwards.

"You've gotta be naked when we fuck, come on, babe," Gen mutters roughly, his hands haphazard as he pulls the hoodie off and takes the rest of your clothes with it. There's a brief moment of closeness as he reaches around you to fumble at your bra, his chin glistening with your essence as he scrunches his nose in concentration.

Gen notices your look. He wipes off his chin clumsily with the back of his arm and finally tosses your bra aside, his tongue poking out the side of his mouth as he eyes your tits. "You have no idea," he says, gaze flicking to yours and softening. "You've got no fucking idea how much you've haunted me."

"Your clothes," you remind him petulantly, reaching for the edge of his shirt. Gen gets the hint and immediately starts stripping, cursing under his breath when his foot gets caught in his briefs and grinning when you giggle at him. Miles of smooth, strong muscle are revealed inch by inch. You reach up to brush your hands along the divots of his abs. "I think your thirst traps are going to get flagged, by the way."

Gen covers you with his body again, interrupting your blatant ogling. The heat and weight of him is welcome. You whine at the brush of his cock against your thighs. "You totally saw them."

"They're practically nudes, Gen," you complain, nose wrinkling at the taste of yourself on his tongue when he dips down to kiss you. "You can't share your v-line on social media."

He's so warm and solid and strong against you, his hand cupping your tit and squeezing as he watches you twitch in his hold. "I need you to cum on my cock," he says, his tone low and desperate. "I've wanted this for so long —"

You reach between your bodies and slide your hand along his dick, smearing precum along the shaft and shivering at the silky length of him. "Get inside me, then."

Gen groans as the head of his cock prods against your entrance, his face falling into your neck as he pushes just the tip inside. You can't help but clench at the feeling, fingers digging into his shoulders at the sudden stretch. It's a little bit painful, but in a good way, a pleasant, aching sort of way.

He pulls back just enough to push in a little further, short, aborted little thrusts that only serve to wind the coil in your gut tighter with every sharp grunt from his lips. Gen's cock is thick, stretching you just right and prodding against your insides until he's finally sheathed fully in your welcoming heat.

"Quit that," he mumbles, his breaths hot at your ear. "Are you trying to make me spill early?"

"Gen," you say suddenly, the thought piercing through the pleasure filled haze of your mind like an arrow, "what about a condom?"

"I'll pull out," he promises. Gen lifts his head enough to meet your eyes. "I'm clean. I got tested before we flew out."

"I did, too," you remind him. "We all did."

"Well, I've only wanted you, and you were ignoring me for three days…"

You stare up at him. "Are you seriously pouting about that with your dick inside me?"

Gen snorts and takes that moment to roll his hips, the muscles in his jaw jumping as he bites down a groan. You shiver, heat flaring hot up your spine at the messy, wet noises coming from where the two of you are joined. He gives you an expectant look.

"I'm clean, Gen, I've been too busy trying not to get run over by a car to sleep with anybody and besides, why would I want to when I couldn't stop thinking about you — oh you bastard," your voice trails off with a moan as he begins fucking you in earnest, his hips rolling perfectly to hit every soft spot inside you.

Your hands slide from his shoulders to his arms as he fucks you into the thick blanket and the floor, grabbing on for dear life as the shivering coil tightens and aches inside you. Gen huffs when you wrap your legs around his trim waist, grabbing at your ankle after a few thrusts and propping it up on his shoulder. The new angle makes you sob breathlessly, clenching around him desperately, and when he props your other ankle up you snap.

"Gen, Gen, Gen, fuck —"

The strong, relentless slap of his hips against the backs of your thighs fill your ears, the bounce and jiggle of your tits a mere afterthought of discomfort as he throws you over the edge with every perfect nudge of his cock against your inner walls. Gen curses under his breath but watches every expression flash across your face, bullying his cock through your orgasm as your pussy tries to suck him in for good.

"You're so fucking hot, babe, so fucking good for me I'm gonna — gonna cum, fuck."

You feel his cock throb inside you an instant before he pulls out, head hanging low as he spills all over your stomach up to your chest. Warm, wet seed smears along your skin as he leans against your propped up legs to breathe, a stretch you'd normally complain about except you can't quite feel your legs, anyway.

You glance down and squint at the hair between his legs. "Gen…"

"Yeah, babe?"

"Did you dye your pubes?"

Gen laughs and carefully removes your ankles from his shoulders, snagging a towel from the floor to wipe your body clean. "I told you I could prove it."

"I can't believe you," you laugh. You feel boneless. Satiated. Warm. "And you did bite me, you dummy. I'll still have marks during my race tomorrow."

"Good," Gen says smugly, pulling you up to drag his hoodie back over your body. You snuggle into the warmth willingly, yanking him down with you until his head rests against your chest and his legs tangle with yours. "I'm not done with you, anyway. How are your legs? And your back?"

"Will you massage them for me?" you ask sleepily. It's nice, combing your fingers through his hair with his arms wrapped around you. Gen folds into you like he fits, even though he's bigger than you. It makes your chest ache. "I'm not stiff right now, but maybe later."

"I'll give you a chocolate muffin, too," he mumbles. "The filling would taste pretty good on your skin."

"That's a waste of a perfectly good muffin," you frown. "Gen, promise you won't waste the muffin like that."

Gen leans into your hands as you scratch gently at his scalp and the soft, fluffy strands. "I promise the muffins are safe. No promises on ever letting you go, though."

You can't keep the silly smile from spreading across your face. Thank goodness he can't see you grinning like a fool. "That works for me."

Bonus:

"Babe! Babe," the anguished yell makes you flinch, but you'd recognize that voice anywhere. The area around the pool is crowded with swimmers getting ready for the next event, though neither of you are competing in this round.

"What the hell, Gen?" you yank him aside, hiding behind a few obnoxiously tall swimmers in case any cameras are trained your way. "We're supposed to be supporting our kouhai! What's wrong?"

"My account got banned," Gen says. You want to kiss the pout off his lips. Red eyes flick up to meet yours and his pout curls into a smarmy grin. "Lookin' good in the suit, babe."

"Shut up," you shove his face away and he laughs, catching your hand and lacing your fingers together. You turn away to hide your grin but he kisses your temple and you know he sees the curve of your lips.

"What? Can't a guy compliment his girl?"

"I reported your account for indecent exposure."

"HAH?!"

[ibuprofen-exe]

WIP Introductions Part One

Hospitality is Hell

I thought I would introduce some of my dearly beloved original characters so I could talk at length about them in the future. 

Warning: The post below the cut has mentions of death, tobacco, suicide, and war. There isn’t anything particularly graphic, but please be safe.

Status: outlined, on a break

Medium: script

In an industrial, capitalistic interpretation of Hell, work is scarce and agonizing in poverty is commonplace. Victor Chen, recently laid off from his unforgiving factory job, finds work at the mysterious Grand Motel, run by its shrewd owner, Hilbert, and he must endure the suffering of working in hospitality.

Characters:

Victor Chen, bear (he/him), gay, disabled (post polio syndrome and autism), Chinese American, Catholic (1919-1950)

Kerosene by Bad Religion Once a drug racketeer and restaurant waiter, Victor was murdered trying to escape his life of crime. He works as the bartender of the Grand Motel, though he would rather not work at all. Fact: Victor was orphaned at a young age, and spent most of his childhood in his uncle’s restaurant.

Barbara Hilbert, agender (they/them), aroace, disabled (OCD), Black American, Baptist (1903-1942)

Paint Me Black Angels by Eartha Kitt Once a bootlegger, Hilbert lost their life to a fatal case of influenza. They work as the owner of the Grand Motel, taking great pride in completing a dream they could not in life. Fact: Hilbert loves fashion and often goes on long shopping trips to buy anything with sequins, shoulder pads, or loud prints.

Donovan Sandoval, bigender (he/him, she/her), gay, disabled (ADHD), Salvadoran American, Catholic, (1955-1990)

Me and Julio Down By the Schoolyard by Paul Simon Once a telemarketer and scam artist, Donovan killed himself after being forcibly outed as a gay man. She works as the accountant and bellhop of the Grand Motel, struggling to handle multiple positions. Fact: Donovan has had a terrible nicotine addiction ever since she was a teen, and would often tell her mother she would quit when she was dead. That has yet to happen.

Sachiko Fujimoto, butch (she/her, he/him), bisexual, disabled (NPD and congenital amputation), Japanese, Protestant (1952-1977)

Ue Wo Muite Arukou by Kyu Sakamoto Once the leader of a girl gang, Sachiko died during a freak diving accident. She works as the receptionist of the Grand Motel, much to her irritation. Fact: Sachiko has adult braces from years of ignoring her dentist as a teenager. She hates them.

Sandeep D’Costa, cisgender (he/him), aromantic gay, disabled (enucleation and PTSD), Indian, Catholic (1917-1946)

Vera by Pink Floyd Once a soldier on the African front of the Second World War, Sandeep lost his life during complications in surgery. He works as the resident musician of the Grand Motel and takes great pride in his piano skills. Fact: Sandeep received his musical training in the church choir, but he dreamed of being on the radio.

Settings:

Paradise

Welcome to Paradise by Green Day The premiere vacation city of any well-to-do individual looking for a reprieve from Hell. Vibes: neon lights, vices, pink stucco, novelty dining, astroturf, distant smokestacks, and the smell of rot

The Grand Motel

Hotel California by The Eagles A budget location on the outskirts of Paradise owned and operated by Barbara Hilbert. Vibes: tile pools, peeling wallpaper, the smell of cigarettes, wrought iron balconies, art deco roofs, and carpeted bathrooms

Thanks for reading (⁠｡⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠｡⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠♡

[obi-mom-kenobi]

Saw you were wondering about the Pokémon regions, sooooo here's aboutttt what they're like:

Kanto: Big, populous, and highly developed in canon, but as it was the first region it's also rather simplistic and quaint in-game. It has a bit of everything. Based on the Kanto region in Japan.

Johto: Old-fashioned with a lot of traditional Japanese architecture, music, landscaping, very naturalistic and forested. The Pokémon are all very cutesy. Based on the Kansai region in Japan.

Hoenn: A land that sits firmly between the extremes of volcanism and the ocean. Much warmer and lusher than the previous two. This was the first to lean into the solarpunk utopia themes of the world. The music has a lot of bells and trumpets. Based on the Kyushu region in Japan.

Sinnoh: Cold, mountainous, and often rugged. There's a lot of lore here (in the sense of oral history, stories, old religions), and a sense that humanity never triumphed over the vastness of nature. The music has a lot of piano. Based on the Hokkaido region in Japan.

Unova: Very modern and dense. In many ways, the spiritually successor to the Kanto region. Music is chic and pop-like. Based on New York City in the US.

Kalos: Extremely picturesque. This region is seriously one gorgeous locale or landmark after the other, looks like the whole thing could be a painting. The vibes are like, "mystical and magical" and the whole region is pretty harmonious. Based on France.

Alola: A group of cheerful tropical islands, small-scale and diverse in cultural background. There's obviously a fair bit of tourism, but it's generally chill and pleasant. Based on Hawaii in the US.

Galar: A culture focused on ascension and competition, with one side being a humble rural countryside and the other a tremendous city, with a gradual transition between. Classic European architecture, often looks like it came out of a fairy tale. Based on the UK.

Paldea: Hot, sunny and arid for the most part, and vaguely mediterranean. Lots of bright warm colors feature in the architecture, stucco, and claywork like terracotta and ceramic tiling. Based on Spain.

Oooooo thank you! I'm very new to pokemon and don't have a way to play most of the games, but I wanted to learn more about it all!

[offshoreoilrig]

When I defend minimalism I'm not talking about scandinavians or even japanese minimalism. I want my apartment to look like a monk's quarters. White cracked stucco walls with a single crucifix in the middle and a hand embroidered wool blanket on the hay-stuffed mattress

[kicksaddictny]

Must-See Exclusive Drops Coming to ComplexCon Las Vegas

ComplexCon, the ultimate festival and exhibition that brings together the best in style, music, art, and food, is gearing up to feature over 200 of today’s most influential cultural innovators and brands. This year’s event promises an exciting array of collaborations and limited-edition releases you won’t find anywhere else, making it a must-attend for anyone passionate about convergence culture.

Here’s a sneak peek at some of the most anticipated exclusive drops:

PUMA x Feature Extos 'Vintage Vegas': This release takes inspiration from midcentury Las Vegas, with neon highlights contrasting a muted stucco base, reminiscent of the city’s iconic architecture. Check out this unique design at Feature’s immersive booth.

Market x Reebok: Get your hands on the Market Studios Camo Club C, available only at ComplexCon.

ASICS x HIDDEN NY: Dive into the Prehistoric Technologies experience, an interactive setup that will unveil new sneakers and merchandise designed for both indoor and outdoor adventures.

Pleasures x Clarks: A collaboration set to surprise attendees with its fresh take on classic Clarks styles.

Sorayama x Complex Gift Shop: Famed Japanese artist Hajime Sorayama will transform the ComplexCon Gift Shop, offering exclusive merchandise like t-shirts, crewnecks, hats, skateboard decks, tote bags, and more, all adorned with his signature designs.

Jae Tips x Saucony: Saucony and Jae Tips are revisiting the Matrix silhouette for the first time since 2000, following their popular Omni 9 release. Attendees will have the first look at this exciting comeback.

Salehe x Crocs: Designer Salehe Bembury will debut the Borealis colorway of his Crocs collaboration, available exclusively at ComplexCon.

Loiter x WWE: This partnership will unveil a limited-edition capsule collection, debuting at ComplexCon and later available in limited quantities through Culture Kings starting November 18.

Beyond these drops, attendees can shop hundreds of other exclusives from top brands and creatives like 032C, Ambush, Awake NY, Cactus Plant Flea Market, Futura Laboratories, Hidden NY, Malbon Golf, Nike, Online Ceramics, Rick Owens, Undefeated, Vetements, and many more.

ComplexCon Las Vegas is set to redefine the boundaries of fashion and culture once again, so mark your calendars for November 16 & 17 and prepare to experience the latest in style, innovation, and creativity.

[hospitalterrorizer]

diary59

11/9-10/2023

thursday - friday

weird dreams lately.

first i'll write about the dream i had today, and then i might right about the dream i had yesterday. before that, re: guest tonight, they cancelled, a relief i think.

~

the dream:

i can't recall where it began, i was on vacation with family, it felt like spain, the house we were in was my cousin's old place, their second house, while my uncle was a still alive, on my mom's side. except the bathroom, the bathroom was an inverted, dirty copy, of the bathroom of my uncle's place on my dad's side. but the dream, i was in it, the middle of it, the architecture was like spain and this house i was in was tall, two stories high maybe, there were pieces i never saw, to join all the pieces i recognized. i was hanging out the window, a room that never existed in that house, there was another window right beside it, and i was leaning on a metal fence, a shallow balcony, out from the black of the other window, japanese tourists, they leaned and spoke with me, they said i was good at japanese, the blue sky was at the edges of my vision, perfect frame on white stucco, the woman wearing 00s shibuya kei clothing was very enthused, eventually asking me about money. i said i had none, she said, that's too bad. she left. i went to the bathroom. it was grey-blue, green was there too, a swamp at night or no, not a swamp, nothing so damp, it was where a pond, white sand, weak trees, moss on stones, and the gentle dying of frigidness in the air, spring's birth, but still being born, you don't know if it will be a stillbirth, and horrific and sad. no one had been there in years, a ruin, not disgusting though, even though these three creatures on the mirror, clouding the mirror, three moths with bat-sized wings, wings of paper or gauze or mache, something stuck and wet on the mirror, vessels beating lightly, organic folding and unfolding, curling of burnt, wet paper, the creatures overlapping one another, new collages of wasted, dirty, material. they had been there as long as the place had been. the sink was full of water, they separated from their wings, not caterpillars really, maggots, with mandibles moving as lips, expressive but inhuman eyes, bugs still, no human features, the creatures were as they were, not related to me, but mandibles as a new approach on lips, eye contact re-invented too. the three spoke inaudible. i felt bad for them. the sink was glass, i watched them tumble. they moved as ice cubes do, when you drop them in water, never settling. i kept looking at the paper mache wings, now rotting, not moving, vessels still and everything. i kept thinking about how they had been moving, i keep thinking about it still, in life, i have never seen anything like it, i knew that then. i left the bathroom. i didn't go in there for any reason. my aunt was in a room, there was a computer, there had to be, not for any reason other than: i sensed it, or i sense it now in the image of her face, we were in the kitchen, kitchen adjacent maybe, but my eyes held her face more than any piece of the room, and so the room conformed to her face, lighting was warm, fleshy but not fleshtone, orange of old lamps, wood was around. she was in my face, she asked how i was enjoying things, i said fine, she said i should go buy some things, enjoy myself, i said i have no money, she began to cry, really weeping for me, makeup she did not have on before began to run, mascara, eyeliner, i can't recall the color of her real eyes, in the dream they were blue, and she was so mortified, inconsolable, it was like i had died in front of her. she said: you can't do anything, i am so worried about you, you can't do anything in the world, how am i supposed to help, i can't help you, i can't save you. it at least felt like all that. strangely, remembering now, in the dream, i was wearing some very raggy dress, like one i have, interesting i was like that in front of my family. she was miserable, i went away, miserable too, terrified for what i might be able to do.

the dream's final phase, i was in the garage, my uncle pulls in, he hands me a bag, the bag contains these black bellpeppers, he is then with them, on a paper plate, a tiny knife beside them, i begin to cut them, i take barely anything out of it, the tiny knife is too thin, aluminum almost and the inside of the thing is very very green. he stares, shocked. i say: is this the knife you normally use for this, after struggling a while. he said, making eyes at me, brows raised, like, you're so stupid, eyes: uh, no. and i looked all over, desperate for the knife i use when i cut anything at home, wooden handle, i kept saying it has to be around, it was nowhere. i use this knife, it's been in the family forever, it's my grandma's, how strange. i woke up there, panicked over the knife.

~

the other dream:

in japan with my gf, her mother, her brother too. in the hotel, my gf says that she needs to get some work done, i say, okay. i go off with the others. it's night, her mom drops her brother and i off somewhere, a giant mall or casino, her mom is in this vast parking lot and i run off to the car again, something fell out of the car supposedly. the parking lot was like the ones in america, nothing like in japan, a tarmac ocean. i return, her brother is talking to a girl, she speaks english very well, she said she had coke, her brother promised me he'd only drink, the building was connected to a subway station too, the overhead awning's bulbs glistened funny in the tunnel that met parking lot and went off somewhere else. i didn't want to deal with his drug binge, he was skinnier in the dream, super skinny, and his facial hair thin and weird, ratlike. i abandon him, and without money i can't get on the rail line. i wandered into the night, it became day, but it's not that time passed, time had decided to change, it became overcast day, it felt almost like early morning, that kind of tranquility. i stared into/at expensive and tall department stores, like i saw in kyoto irl, that big shopping zone. i walked into a big park central to all the shopping zone. i walked to this enclosure in the center, an iron fence, not like chainlink, upright, spikes from earth with brick dividers, a pond, an island, evergreen trees, a tiny godzilla standing on a stone on the shore throwing tiny rocks at passersby. i climbed the fence to try and get into the enclosure to meet him, he was magical under the grey sky, and his back and head were shiny, not in a real way, but it projected an aura. i realized, he is a man in a suit, i climbed back down. it began pouring then, i walked into a tiny store, situated in an abortive strip mall, atrophied american architecture, it was on a hill. i stood outside, getting rained on, reading signs about how you should behave in the store, written in english with sharpie on paper, hung off strings, hundreds of rules, some in red, underlined. a man speaking perfect english welcomed me in, in an unhappy way, there was food hanging off the walls, pastries, bread, that kind of thing, also strung up on the walls and down from the ceiling. dangling and spinning lightly. a pantry full of ingredients, a glass case for refrigerated items too. the sign outside had something to do with clothing. the owner came out, a kind french man who also spoke perfect english, he brought me over to this giant armoire, he said look, i looked, many tulle dresses, they all struck me. one had construction on the shoulders i quite liked, cylindrical and bouncy, spongey too kind of, it reminded me of translucent sea cucumbers. he talked about rockstars. he showed me lingere for when i'm at home, one was a body suit, i thought explicitly about how well it would fit me, if i could make that work. it was pretty and pink, red ribbons and bows across it too, white accents, i stared at his face, saying i would remember to come back with my gf, as i had no money. i woke up then.

these dreams are weird, they correspond to things i really remember happening, especially today's dream. anyway, i think i know what they mean (i have no money, i can't do anything, i am scared of family). but that's not the exciting part, i like writing my dreams so i can keep these images, for other pieces of writing, it's all easy enough to reformulate. anyway on the anywayyy, today i didn't do a lot, i ate leftovers and didn't make cookies, maybe saturday. tomorrow supposedly there is a birthday for someone my gf knows that i don't know well, the theme is taking your breasts out or like hooters something. i don't have breasts really and i don't have fake things or like prosthetics. but there's a contest they're having for best nip-slip, i could wear a loose dress for that, if i want to. it feels weird and i don't know if i'll go, but it would be fun i guess to lean into something disheveled, as a look. would they appreciate that, how do they see me, i don't know. is that weird, i think sometimes i really just want too much attention. not sometimes, all the time i want too much attention. it's ugly but it's something really horrifically deep inside. that thought spurred on some writing. it's funny how i thought this might make me a less productive writer, but the diary has really spurred more on than not. and no one has to be looking for that to happen. i really can do it myself, for myself. i may not have any money but that's a level of independence some people never get i guess, right. or maybe that's a fantasy. either way, putting something in public and not expecting anyone to see it is interesting. the thing that really keeps our lives private are just interest, and the willingness people have to pry. who would pry, who cares about me. that's fun to think about i think. all those people obsessed with opsec are just paranoid that they matter a lot. it's like explaining away why they aren't popular. you can spew every detail of the psychosexual disaster you are into the void, and no one will care. it's interesting how i can't tell if that's a tragedy or not.

i also finished the rewrite on the song roughly, meaning it's slotted in, there's drums, some little parts alongside it, now i'm just thinking of how to mix a little, and the 2nd pv riff part and how to fit it in better, and also this crazy part, i wanna amp that up. writing riffs like that is addictive, i'd like to try and get another thing out like that now but i think before then, i should just fuck around on guitar a lot, get some ideas out while i try and get a bunch of other stuff done. soon i should finish the single and the b side, before this interview comes out. not that i'm gonna get any interest from that.

now i am just listening to pg.99. typical, of me. there's a photo i took of a flower above.

it takes a lot of finesse to write parts like this. i don't think a lot of new bands realize that, these really exploratory and droning pieces, it takes a lot to get there i think. i dunno, it's an incomplete theory but too many bands just want to get there, and they end up deep in cliches, or used by the cliches, to further the aim of some parasite stuck to art, sentiment's evil head. being able to use that for your own ends, like when pg99 jumps into one of their weird gothy waltz songs, there's something really amazing about those to me, freely engaging with something that feels cheap and using that to highlight something wounded and terrible.

anyway:

byebye!!!!!

[lunarmote]

Week 9? I’ve lost track: It’s getting difficult.

This week, I: scouted out a new cafe on a high school friend’s recommendation, with new friends, hung out with dormmates, went to a Thai restaurant with friends, panicked over Japanese class, went to Gion, and experienced a typhoon warning.

This is going to be a scattered entry; I can feel it x___x

I had a very worthwhile conversation with two new friends here, in Cafe Bibliotic Hello. I think a lot about how our stay is halfway over and we don’t really have that much time left; and it’s true we can choose to make the most out of the moment, but the ultimate question is how?? How quickly time passes by and how unflinchingly. In the end, the amount of minutes in an hour is constant.

By thinking evaluatively we are placing ourselves in the future. We baby our present (”past”) selves by coaxing them to do something that future us will remember fondly. What even is that? The second you start thinking this way, everything and anything becomes pointless. 

This cafe had so many plants on the inside. The menu was handwritten, with a few laminated, half-sized drawings of individual tarts. It is often the case here in Japan that you will not be allowed to order dessert unless you order an entrée as well, or a beverage. A bit problematic for me going to cafes as someone who can’t drink caffeine and doesn’t want to ingest a sugar bomb. The lunch sets were relatively expensive; alas, you pay for ambience here, not just sustenance. 

Many items on the menu have katakana names, including the word for “hot” beverage:  ホット.

What was I going on about? While I was sitting in the cafe with friends I started zoning out a little bit just thinking about what I was doing here. It’s quite laughable that before I came here I had these grand plans to be circumspect and scribble down every minute detail of my life here, and when I’m here for real, so many of my moments blur together and I barely have the energy to do anything. My priorities are completely shifted. Not even in the sense that I have 898,735 things to do and keep putting them off. More in the sense of feeling like everything on my to-do list is pointless.

To take a random example: I was inspired by photobashers in the early days of deviantART who would release stock packs. They had an eye for eccentric textures, taking pictures of bad graffiti and stucco and dilapidated buildings, and making beautiful art out of these. I had told myself if I ever moved to a foreign country to start taking pictures of everything.

I think I did that for about a week here and then I forgot. Now I’m so familiar with the way to school and the traffic lights and the narrowness of the streets that I have lost my “curator’s” eye. I feel like you could get used to anything astonishingly fast. I don’t even remember what the San Diegan counterpart of these things look like, but I’m sure 2 weeks back in San Diego will have me forget Kyoto.

Am I satisfied with how I’ve spent my time here? If anything, I am disappointed by could improve at living for me. Even here I am driven by my desire to make things right, for other people to be happy. I need to ask myself if doing things for other people is truly who I am, or if I’m doing things to get a reaction out of them.

On Tues evening I went to a Thai restaurant with two friends from my dorm. It’s interesting to me how “spice” scales never really tell you anything because different parts of the world have different standards for spice. Taking into account that this was a Thai restaurant in Japan, which is not really known for its spicy food. But I love Thai food so much especially papaya salad, which we ordered, along with seasoned squid, basil chicken, and Tom Yum-flavored fries.

In the middle of the week I realized we had a test and I started panicking over it. I typically (at home) have a hard time studying for things anyway, but being in Kyoto doesn’t help when you are surrounded by people always doing things and inviting you to things. I tried to combat this by staying in the lounge area where people coming out of their rooms could see me. It worked, kind of.

There are a few other habits that are slipping, such as doing laundry on time, getting healthy groceries, even paying bills at the 7-Eleven. It’s always because there is one minor step that is an inconvenience and that makes me forget/put it off until it officially becomes “late.” Like, laundry for instance. Our laundry machines only take 100 yen coins, and 100 yen coins are a bit high in demand when you consider their many uses. Thankfully there is a vending machine next to our dorm which takes 1000 bills, but then I’m stuck with a sugared drink I don’t want and an extra plastic bottle I have to recycle, which then I have to buy more trash bags for. I think I collected over 20 plastic bottles before I realized this was a little bit unsustainable and I should probably start saving 100 yen coins.

Groceries I think I unconsciously started dreading when I first moved here because the cashier would say a bunch of Japanese to me that I didn’t understand. Now I understand what they’re asking and an additional problem has popped up: it’s awkward to cook here. We have a single induction stove in our rooms, no vent fan and no closet door so odors stick to your clothes, plus the length of our stays is awkward (4-6 months) and buying cooking utensils may not be a good investment, plus it’s cheaper to buy onigiri at 7-Eleven anyway, but, but-! This is not the type of reasoning you want to stick with for long. You start slipping a little and then more, and eventually, you lose all your healthy habits.

Anyway, I was panicking over Japanese class for two to three days. Why? You see, there are some people in my class with prior knowledge (I confess that I am one of them, but it takes longer for me to retain information than most people anyway) and the teacher takes them as the benchmark for speed. Lessons are too short for the amount of material we’re supposed to memorize. I say I want a study buddy but I don’t really, because I can’t study with people - the only good being in company does me is keeps me from going on instagram/reddit. Not to mention the felt futility of studying grammar in class when you are in the country surrounded by people who speak the language.

Aah, I’ve been talking about random things for so long. Here’s some more: 

This morning we received a typhoon warning for the Kansai region: landslides in northern Sakyo-ku as well as the flooding Kamogawa river. I have to say, as someone who lives in mild California, I have always found extreme weather conditions fascinating. I was a bit in awe when I stepped out of the classroom today and saw the relentless downpour - the drops melted together like a heavy blanket. 

A couple of days ago I went to Gion with a new friend. I’ve always wanted to see it for myself and, despite living 20 mins on foot from it and having known about it for so long, never got the chance to... The sun was setting in the most beautiful way, casting its light over Yasaka shrine.

[mahashankh]

TOP HOME DESIGN COUNTRIES

LIST OF TOP HOME DESIGN COUNTRIES

The top home design countries can vary depending on individual preferences and trends. However, there are several countries that are renowned for their exceptional home design and architectural styles. Here are 30 countries known for their impressive home designs: - Italy: Italy is famous for its elegant and timeless architectural styles, such as Tuscan villas, Renaissance palaces, and classical Roman designs. - France: France is known for its exquisite and luxurious home designs, particularly in Paris. French architecture features elements like grand facades, ornate detailing, and beautiful gardens. - United States: The United States is a diverse country with various architectural styles. From Colonial and Victorian homes to modern and contemporary designs, American architecture showcases a wide range of influences and creativity. - Japan: Japanese home design is highly regarded for its minimalistic and Zen-inspired aesthetics. Traditional Japanese architecture incorporates natural elements, open spaces, and a harmonious connection with the surrounding environment. - Sweden: Scandinavian design, with Sweden at its forefront, focuses on simplicity, functionality, and minimalism. Swedish homes often feature clean lines, neutral colors, and a blend of natural and modern materials. - Spain: Spanish home design is known for its vibrant and colorful aesthetics, influenced by Moorish and Mediterranean styles. Spanish homes often have stucco exteriors, tiled roofs, and interior courtyards. - Brazil: Brazilian architecture combines modern design with tropical influences. The use of natural materials, open spaces, and integration with nature characterizes many Brazilian homes. - Australia: Australian home design often emphasizes indoor-outdoor living, taking advantage of the country's natural landscapes. Modern Australian homes feature spacious layouts, sustainable design elements, and abundant natural light. - Netherlands: Dutch home design is renowned for its innovation, functionality, and clever use of space. Dutch architecture often incorporates modern and sustainable design principles while maximizing efficiency. - India: Indian home design reflects a rich cultural heritage and diverse regional styles. From traditional palaces and havelis to contemporary designs, Indian architecture showcases intricate detailing, vibrant colors, and a blend of different architectural influences. - Germany: German architecture combines innovation, functionality, and precision. From Bauhaus-inspired designs to modern sustainable architecture, Germany is recognized for its cutting-edge approach to home design. - Denmark: Danish design is renowned for its emphasis on clean lines, simplicity, and functionality. Danish homes often feature open floor plans, minimalist aesthetics, and a focus on cozy and comfortable living spaces. - United Kingdom: The United Kingdom boasts a rich architectural heritage, including iconic styles such as Georgian, Victorian, and Tudor. From elegant townhouses to charming cottages, British home design showcases a mix of traditional and contemporary influences. - Switzerland: Swiss architecture is synonymous with precision, craftsmanship, and attention to detail. Swiss homes often blend modern design elements with traditional alpine influences, creating a harmonious integration with the natural surroundings. - Morocco: Moroccan home design is famous for its exotic and intricate details. Influenced by Islamic and Moorish architecture, Moroccan homes feature vibrant colors, decorative tilework, arched doorways, and beautiful courtyards. - Greece: Greek home design showcases a blend of ancient and modern influences. With a rich architectural history, Greek homes often feature white facades, blue accents, traditional elements like columns and arches, and an emphasis on outdoor living spaces. - Brazil: Brazil has a diverse range of home designs that reflect its vibrant culture and natural landscapes. From colonial Portuguese influences in cities like Salvador and Olinda to contemporary modernist designs in cities like São Paulo and Brasília, Brazilian architecture offers a unique blend of styles. - China: Chinese home design reflects a deep cultural heritage and a mix of traditional and modern influences. From traditional courtyard houses (siheyuan) in Beijing to contemporary skyscrapers in Shanghai, Chinese architecture showcases a balance between tradition and innovation. - Mexico: Mexican home design is characterized by its vibrant colors, intricate tilework, and strong connection to nature. Traditional Mexican architecture features elements like courtyards, arches, and handcrafted details, while contemporary designs embrace modern aesthetics and sustainable practices. - Norway: Norwegian home design often incorporates elements that embrace the country's stunning natural landscapes. With a focus on sustainability, Norwegian architecture showcases modern and eco-friendly designs that integrate with the surrounding environment. - Morocco: Moroccan home design is renowned for its rich colors, intricate patterns, and ornate details. Traditional Moroccan architecture features elements like mosaic tilework, arches, and beautiful courtyards, creating a sense of exotic elegance. - Finland: Finnish design places a strong emphasis on functionality, simplicity, and harmony with nature. Finnish homes often showcase clean lines, use of natural materials like wood, and innovative design concepts that prioritize practicality and comfort. - South Africa: South African home design blends diverse cultural influences with modern aesthetics. From traditional thatched-roof homes in rural areas to contemporary designs in urban centers, South African architecture offers a unique fusion of styles and materials. - Canada: Canadian home design encompasses a wide range of styles due to the country's vastness and multicultural influences. From rustic log cabins in the countryside to sleek modern residences in urban areas, Canadian architecture is known for its versatility and adaptability to different climates. - Thailand: Thai home design combines traditional elements with modern sensibilities. Traditional Thai architecture features ornate detailing, intricate woodwork, and iconic roofs, while contemporary Thai designs incorporate sleek lines, open spaces, and a seamless indoor-outdoor flow. - Argentina: Argentine home design showcases a blend of European influences, particularly from Spain and Italy, with a touch of South American flair. From elegant neoclassical mansions in Buenos Aires to modernist designs in coastal cities like Mar del Plata, Argentine architecture is diverse and captivating. - Egypt: Egyptian home design reflects a rich historical heritage and ancient architectural traditions. From the iconic pyramids and temples to traditional courtyard houses (riads) in cities like Cairo and Luxor, Egyptian architecture features grandeur, symmetry, and intricate detailing. - Portugal: Portuguese home design is characterized by a mix of Mediterranean, Gothic, and Moorish influences. From charming whitewashed houses in coastal villages to colorful tiles and ornate facades in Lisbon, Portuguese architecture showcases a blend of traditional and contemporary styles. - Sweden: Swedish home design, particularly in the realm of interior design, is known for its clean lines, minimalist aesthetics, and functional design principles. Scandinavian-inspired spaces often feature light and neutral color palettes, natural materials, and an emphasis on simplicity and coziness. - Turkey: Turkish home design combines influences from the Ottoman era, Byzantine architecture, and Islamic design elements. Turkish homes often feature ornate details, decorative tiles, and traditional elements like domes and arches, creating a unique blend of historical and contemporary styles. These countries offer unique perspectives and architectural styles that have influenced and inspired home design enthusiasts around the world. From historical richness to modern innovations, each country contributes to the global landscape of home design in its own distinct way. It's important to note that these countries represent a selection of notable examples, and exceptional home design can be found in many other countries as well. TOP 10 HOME DESIGN COUNTRIES IN THE WORLD. 1. Italy 2. France 3. United States 4. Japan 5. Sweden 6. Spain 7. Brazil 8. Australia 9. Netherlands 10. IndiaTOP 30 HOME DESIGN COUNTRIES IN THE WORLD. 1. Italy 2. France 3. United States 4. Japan 5. Sweden 6. Spain 7. Brazil 8. Australia 9. Netherlands 10. India 11. Germany 12. Denmark 13. United Kingdom 14. Switzerland 15. Morocco 16. Greece 17. Brazil 18. China 19. Mexico 20. Norway 21. Finland 22. South Africa 24. 23. Canada 25. Thailand 26. Argentina 27. Egypt 28. Portuga 29. Sweden 30. Turkey Read the full article

[ironunderoos]

Mob boss tony and killer spider assissin peter are married and control new York

I'm sorry anon that this took so long but I was very busy and Dare eat up my writing drive 😅 I hope you like what I made out of this! Thousand thanks and kisses for @king-of-kaoss for beta-ing and cheering on me to get it done! 💖

Sleeky Joe was dead, even if he didn't know it yet. But everybody else knew.

Tony watched him from behind his shades, one hand by his chin, stroking the tip of his index finger over his perfectly trimmed beard. He sprawled on a faded brocade armchair, fitting for the formerly grand mansion. Even if it was uninhabited now, the old glory was visible in the high ceilings and the wooden floors. Today, cobwebs graced the corners and the windows were boarded up.

Only the circle around the man in the center of the room was lit, surrounded by a couple of Tony's men, preventing Sleeky Joe from running away. He sweat profusely, trying to keep a calm facade and failing.

Tony rubbed his beard again. "You mentioned an ambush. Tell me more about it."

The culprit started on his rehearsed explanation that Tony already knew where all lies. He hadn't been knocked out before the cargo-hold had been raided and he hadn't jumped into the river to escape the police.

Unnoticed by the people below, a shadow crept over the high ceiling, inaudible. It stayed in the darker parts between the stucco ornaments and the off chandeliers, almost invisible and unobtrusive like a spider.

"I heard…" Tony interrupted the man who immediately stopped his rambling. "... that somebody hinted the location of our freighter to the cops. Someone who got paid by the Japanese."

"No, Don Stark, no! You can't imply…"

"I can't…?"

"Nononono I didn't mean it that way…!"

The shadow moved closer, slowly, as if it had all the time in the world. The tight suit was made of a dark grey material, easy to overlook. Only under close inspection the fine black lines were visible that formed a spider web all over the suit. Finally it stopped right above the armchair, the body pressed against the ceiling, and took in the scene beneath.

The interrogation happened in the middle of a loose ring of men. Headlamps blinded the man in the middle who tried to see. Nobody had a weapon in hand but of course everybody was armed.

The masked head looked around, counted the exits and the possible points to kill everybody in the room before they even knew what happened. Then he focused on the man in the armchair.

"I know that you haven't taken the shift to atone for your lapse last week," Tony snarled and got up from his seat. Now his unprotected head was only seven feet away from the hunching figure under the ceiling. "I know that you got payment from an unknown source!"

"No please, Don Stark, please!" Sleeky Joe raised his hands in pleading.

The shadow raised his hand with the poisonous shot.

"Plead to your maker!" Tony gritted out between his teeth.

A barely audible sound followed.

Joe froze. His eyes stared at Tony, but slowly rose to the shadow above.

His eyes bulged. He fell to his knees, then onto his face.

The shadow unfolded in an elegant bow and stretched his legs. On an invisible thread he lowered himself to the floor behind Tony, landing without a sound.

"You're late," Tony scolded softly.

The spider walked around him and came to a halt in front of the boss. "Took me some time to get out of Ross' mansion."

Both listened to the sirens in the distance.

"Someone on your heels?"

"Don't think so."

Tony gestured to his men. The newer ones tried it to stare at the infamous assassin who had just killed the traitor. Two of them took the remains of Sleeky Joe under the arms and carried him away. The rest followed. The door clicked shut.

The spider gripped his mask and pulled it off. An observer would have been surprised by how young he was, barely an adult, the bouncy locks and pink cheeks making him look even younger. But a closer look offered that his gaze was cold as ice and his smile sharp like a dagger. Only when he focussed on his boss his gaze became softer, even worshipful.

"Good job." Tony pulled him close by the waist, uncaring that the boy was armed with poison that killed in seconds. The boy got lax in his grip when their lips touched. Tony Stark was the only one to survive the toxin of this spider.

[mia-japanese-korean]

Santa Fe, Yoshida Tōshi, 1971, Minneapolis Institute of Art: Japanese and Korean Art

diverse groups of people in very colorful clothing the long, covered porch of a grey stucco building; women in colorful shawls and long dresses seated along colorful blankets with their backs to the stucco wall; people in contemporary clothing interacting with the seated women; porch pillars and lintels are dark brown wood; yellow roof with pigeons; grey windows Size: 14 3/4 × 21 1/2 in. (37.47 × 54.61 cm) (sheet) Medium: Woodblock print; ink and color on paper

https://collections.artsmia.org/art/117599/

[peacemaker-ic]

Buy items are what you would expect of a Japanese-inspired pack; Minimalist but textural. There is a traditional base, but more modern interpretation seen with the seating and kitchen. The open shelving kitchen is lovely and works wonderful as a bathroom vanity too. The black is too black though. I am not lamenting the lack of upper cabinets here. There is an open shelf that seamlessly joins together that works with this style of kitchen, just hope you don’t need to place it around corners. I will always campaign to get full sets when it comes to kitchens and seating though. 

The colour scheme is made up of muted naturals that work really well in this case. bold colours are more the glitz and glamour of the neon-lit cities, not the country town this place evokes. 

Adding in the platform tool from the patch also adds so much depth to rooms. You can also create the traditional entrance of Japanese homes where you take off your shoes before entering. A nice touch. I used it here to raise the bathtub which is still usable. If it’s only 1 click high, sims can seamlessly use it, any more they will be blocked without stairs. 

There are a few traditional style walls in the pack too. The one I used for the exterior, which also comes with a stucco version, and the plaster wall inside which is in two styles. I mixed and matching to gave different width panels with gives the more more uniqueness and less repetition. 

[whatthedubbs]

Another Idea I May Never Finish

LOL Avatar/Spirited Away AU.  Where Sokka the Spiritually Oblivious wanders into some abandoned amusement park and then... Well...

Sokka’s on his way back from college when he makes a wrong turn and ends up at what looks like an abandoned amusement park.  

There’s a weird sign by the entryway warning passers-by not to enter because of ‘Strange Energies.’

And because he’s Sokka and inquisitive to a fault (especially when confronted with clearly-bullshit keep-out signs), he parks his car, grabs his jacket, and gets out to have a look around.

The entryway is built in a distinctly Japanese style; A curving tiled roof rising in tiers above the entry arch and capping the high stucco-covered wall that stretches out into the low underbrush in either direction.  He can’t see any signs of rides or other attractions beyond it.

It doesn’t look like the sort of amusement park that belongs in Alaska.  Probably why it’s abandoned.

He wanders down the entry tunnel, peering ahead in the darkness to try and figure out what’s at the other end.  Weird, it didn’t seem this long when he started walking…

It’s getting warmer, too.  Warm enough that he’s unzipping his jacket.  

Finally, he gets to the end of the end, and blinks up a sky that’s WAY bluer than the watery-spring-blue sky he remembers from just a few minutes ago.  The cutting breeze and shreds of low cloud are conspicuously absent as well.

There are the ruins of carnival stalls and a few eateries scattered around the entry-building, the smooth-worn paving stones interrupted by weeds and grass that look a little too green for Alaska, even in June.

It’s eerily quiet.   No songbirds or bugs or the ever-present arguing of the sea-birds.  Sokka can see wind-chimes and bells hanging from the corners of a few of the surrounding pavilions, but the air is too still to move them.

Strange.

He walks a little further away from the entrance, picking up speed when he realizes that the rows of little stalls aren’t actually that deep.  He turns a corner and stops, staring.

The paving stones become a set of shallow steps a few yards away, leading down to what looks like it used to be a water feature of some sort, but now is full of beautifully-lush green grass.  Across the green expanse, maybe a hundred yards away, is the rest of the park; rising up the slope of a low hill in tiers of red-gold-green buildings, with a grand, castle-like building with faded red walls and a green-tiled roof at the top.  

Strangely enough, the tall, rusty smokestack that stands next to the castle-building is putting out drifting clouds of black-grey smoke.

Maybe this place isn’t as abandoned as he thought.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket to text a picture of the place to Aang, only to discover that there’s no signal.  He snaps the picture anyway, then turns his phone off to save the battery.

Go back to the car, or see if there’s still part of this place that’s open for business?

Sokka looks back towards where he remembers the entrance being, but the maze of carnival booths and abandoned noodle stalls block his view of it.  He steps out onto the strip of clear pavement between said stalls and the grass and looks down it to see how far it is to the wall, but he can’t see that either.  In either direction.  

“Must be painted to look like the horizon,” Sokka mutters to himself, shading his eyes with one hand and squinting at where the wall should be.  He can’t see the mountains that should be visible to the east, so there’s definitely something in the way.

“Weird.”

He looks around again, but the entry gate is still obscured, and the mystery of that maybe-still-open castle-building is way more appealing than the three hours of driving he’s still got to do before he gets home.

Onward it is, then.

The grass is soft and dotted with patches of clover and wildflowers when he gets to the bottom of the steps.  A little way down the bank Sokka sees the wooden skeleton of what was probably a gondola of some sort, now overgrown with tall blue flowers and moss.  Something metallic clinks against his boot, and when he looks down he realizes that the grass near the bottom of the stairs is full of coins and little things people must have dropped while getting in and out of the boats that must have ferried people across.  

He crunches down to get a better look.  Most of the coins aren’t the American and Canadian ones he recognizes.  Instead, they’re much bigger, with blank faces and a gold-metallic coloring.  Carnival tokens of some kind, maybe?  There are a few pieces of jewelry too, but nothing interesting enough to bother taking with him.

“Wonder how long this place’s been here?”  Sokka tosses the ring he’s been inspecting away into the grass and starts walking again.  The coins and other junk peter out a few yards away from the bank, leaving nothing but the grass underfoot.  “Can’t have closed that long ago if all that stuff’s still there.”

The further he walks, the warmer the air gets.  Sokka pauses about halfway across the gap to shrug out of his jacket and tie it around his waist, just to keep himself from sweating through it. 

“Weird weather today,” he mutters, casting a glance up at the still-too-blue sky and starting to wish he’d brought a hat.  He turns a slow circle in place, hoping that the distance will make it easier to pick out the entrance gate’s tower or where the walls are, but he can’t see either.  In fact, standing where he is, the only real landmarks he has to orient himself are the dry riverbed itself and the castle in the distance.

It’s maybe making him feel the tiniest bit uneasy.

Still, he didn’t come all this way just to chicken out.  Sokka squares his shoulders and keeps walking.

A breeze picks up as he nears the other bank, ruffling the flowers and the grass gently and finally doing something to break the weird silence of the place.  Sokka can hear the distant sound of the chimes and bells that must be hung from the eaves of the roofs the same way they had been around the entrance as he gets closer.  

There are more boat-skeletons on this side.  Way more boat skeletons.  Enough that Sokka has to pick his way between their ribs and the long poles and oars that must have been used to propel them across the channel.  There’s also a notable lack of any of the junk he’d seen in the grass on the gate-side, like everything that might have been dropped has been meticulously removed.

There’s still no sign that anyone’s been here recently other than the smoke coming from the stack, though.  The booths and pavilions, while much less of a mess than they had been on the other side, are still clearly abandoned and weather-worn.  There are still weeds growing between the paving stones, but there’s no trash or animal nests or actual damage to anything, as far as he can tell.  

“How does a place like this even happen?”

The hill’s steeper than it looks from a distance, although not so steep that there are steps anywhere.  Every once in a while Sokka stops to look back toward the park entrance, trying to get a feel for how far he’s come, and how wide the park is, but he can’t seem to pick out the gatehouse OR figure out where the walls are.

The closer he gets to the castle, the less it looks like one.  What he’d thought were battlements at a distance actually turn out to be large, many-paned windows and balconies.  There’s a cheerfully-waving flag at one corner emblazoned with a symbol he doesn’t recognize, and no signs of an outer wall to speak of.  But if it isn’t a castle, what is it?

Sokka’s been following a wide, winding path between the pavilions and restaurants on the hillside, so it’s hard to judge exactly how close he is to reaching his destination until he rounds a corner and realizes he’s arrived.

The place is enormous up close.  It looms over the other structures of the park like the giant cruise ships loom over small seaside ports.  

“Sweet Tui and La, what the fuck?”  Sokka stares in disbelief.  Instead of an ornamental moat or a ditch of some kind, there’s a sheer fucking four-hundred-foot drop down to what looks like a flat flood-plain that separates the castle-like building from the rest of the park; the cliff face extending off for miles in either direction until it gets lost in the haze.  The castle itself stands on a completely-physics-and-geology-defying pillar of rock that stands straight up from the muddy plain below, with plumbing pipes and occasional structures built out of it.  The smokestack stands off to one side on an even more logic-defying stone spire, connected to the main building by an arch of stone and a tangle of rusting pipes.

There’s a delicately-ornamented arched wooden bridge spanning the thirty-foot gap from the cliff edge to the building’s entrance.  Unlike the rest of the park’s structures, this one shows no signs of wear whatsoever.

Sokka stares at everything for a minute, then reaches automatically into his pocket for his phone.

It’s dead.

“Well, shit,” he sighs as he shoves it back in the pocket of his jeans.  He’ll have to charge it in his car enough to put a map pin down for this place before he gets back on the road.

“What are you doing here?”

The voice comes from right the fuck over his shoulder.  Way too close for comfort.  Sokka may or may not scream like a six-year old as he flails and tries to get a bit of distance from the asshole who’s snuck up on him.

It’s a guy, maybe a few years older than Sokka.  He’s got a nasty burn scar splayed over one side of his face, bright-bright-bright gold eyes that are kind of impossible not to notice, and a Defcon-2 level scowl.

“Dude!”  Sokka feels like his fucking heart’s about to give out. “What the fuck, man?  Have you been following me this whole time?”

With a bit of distance, Scar-Face-McCreeper turns out to be dressed to match the rest of the park in an old-fashioned red-and-black yukata and a pair of geta.  Sokka has no fucking clue how the guy managed to move so silently in what is essentially a pair of wooden flip-flops, but here they are.  

“Only since you crossed the channel,” Scar-Face-McCreeper answers, like that somehow makes things any better.  “Most people are smart enough to turn around before they get that far.”

Wonderful.  Now he’s being insulted.  “Dude, if you didn’t want people coming in here to see what’s up, you’re gonna need to do better than a cheap-looking poster covered in nonsense about ‘bad energies,’ Sokka retorts.  “What even is this place, anyway?”

“It’s a bathhouse,” Scar-face is still looking at him like he’s an idiot.  “And it’s private.  By invitation only.”

The guy takes a step toward him as he says that last bit, and Sokka subconsciously finds himself taking a step back.  There’s something weirdly dangerous about the way the other guy’s looking at him.  He suddenly seems… bigger, somehow, his shadow lengthening toward Sokka strangely, even though it can’t be more than half-past noon and the sun won’t set for almost another eleven hours…

Something, Sokka has no idea what, causes the sudden tension to snap like an overstretched rubber-band.  Scar-Face’s head snaps around toward the horizon, and Sokka feels like his eyes are about to bug out of his head when he looks in the same direction and realizes the sun’s somehow more than halfway set already.

“What-”

One of the lightpoles at the end of the bridge flickers on.

There’s a hot-hot hand around his wrist, nearly jerking him off balance as he’s hauled bodily back across the bridge away from the bathhouse.

“Run.  Now!”  Scar-Face shoves him back toward the street leading down the hill.  He sounds almost… Scared?  Worried?  “Get back across the channel before the sun sets!  Go!”

Definitely scared.  

Scar-Face turns on his heel to face the bathhouse, striking a strange pose, like some sort of predatory snake poised to strike.

“Run, you moron.  Before you can’t.  Go!”

Sokka’s not normally the sort of dude to let stunts like this get him, but something tells him this guy isn’t fucking around.  He takes one look back at the lone figure on the bridge and fucking books it down the street.  

When the fuck did it get so dark?  Sokka wonders as he sprints past shops and stalls and pavilions.  More and more lights are coming on the longer he runs; illuminating walls and pillars and roofs that don’t look nearly as dilapidated as he remembers them being just a few minutes ago.  He doesn’t stop to take a closer look, but he’s pretty sure the grass that was growing between the paving stones earlier is gone too.  

A breeze blows down the street after him, and Sokka yelps when a hand grabs him by the wrist and drags him bodily in the direction of a narrow alley.

“You’re never going to make it if you go the longest way, numbskull,” Scar-Face hisses as he nearly pulls Sokka right off his feet with his speed.  “Faster!”

Sokka nearly trips on the suddenly-steeper slope of the alley, but manages not to faceplant as he pushes himself to try and match the guy’s speed.  The hand on his wrist feels like an iron band, like he could fall flat and the guy would just pull him along the ground without slowing down.

The next minute or so is a blur of dark alleyways and bright flashes across the main thoroughfare as the two of them sprint down the hill.  The sky above is getting darker and darker, but the slope is getting shallower, which must mean they’re close to the bottom.  Nearly there-

One minute Sokka’s running like his life depends on it, and the next Zuko’s twisting them both into a narrow doorway and flattening Sokka against it.  Sokka’s breath wheezes out of him with the force of the impact, but before he can draw a fresh breath to complain there’s a hand clamped over his mouth.

“Quiet.”  Scar-Face is so close, his lips brush against Sokka’s ear.  “Listen.  We’re too late.”

Sure enough, Sokka can hear voices chattering a few yards away.  Footsteps and clinking jewelry and somehow the sound of water slapping against stone.  A loud hiss comes from the other side of the door, and a cloud of steam issues from a window just a few feet away, carrying the smell of soy sauce and spices and frying meat with it.

What the fuck is this place?

“What now?”