raxcity does NOT deserve this
Peter Solarz
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@housingtwo
raxcity does NOT deserve this
okay you all KNOW @raxcity got the tumblr bug & NOW they remade at @thneedcity & after two days it got the bug! what the flying fuck? basically this is bullshit & the staff needs to figure this out. it’s damn scary. i think their other active blog is housingtwo. SIGHS
R.I.P.
ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS RN I WAS JUST WRITING STARTERS ON THE BLOG I MADE LIKE NOT EVEN A WEEK AGO AND SPENT DAYS PERFECTING AND THAT I LAUNCHED FUCKING YESTERDAY AND I SEE THAT MY BLOG HAS BEEN EATEN???? AGAIN????? i srsly want to cry rn tumblr is so fucked up. what did i do to deserve this TWICE is this a sign from the universe telling me to just stop trying bc im really not sure what else to think???
i tried emailing tumblr the last time this happened (TO THE SAME MUSE BTW) and they were so useless it took them days just to figure out i had a serious problem and not just something i could fix by disabling my browser extensions like. bruhhh. why do you even have a support staff if you guys are fucking AWFUL at everything you do??????
honestly at this point i might just leave tumblr and give up roleplaying forever im done. either that or i’ll just send tumblr an email everyday like “hey have you fixed my fucking blog yet”
not even gonna smalltext this im that mad
I GOT 99 PROBLEMS————— GETTING RICH AIN’T ONE.
[ art credz ]
[ tfw you find out your blog was hacked via a text from arjuna and youre already feelin all fresh n emotional because you just watched chappie with vlembrane but then this shit happens so immediately you email daddy (tumblr support) but theyre crusty af and won’t even help you and as a very emotionally earnest person that didnt even get tix to coachella bc daddy refused to pay for that too you take this as a sign of disrespect and tell them ever so kindly to suck ur orange furry dick bc honestly you dont even want their mediocre advice you were on the prowl for a new daddy anyway but that means sacrificing a blog that you had some p nice timez on so you tell yourself w/e and go get cheese fries like w/e w/e w/e until it starts to dawn on you how much you miss posing as the swag-money realm’s favorite twink and you gradually transform into a sad boi and start listening to mac demarco’s discography on a loop as you crop icons for a blog you will probably never have access to again and your friends eventually get so sick of hearing that nasty combo of sleazy vocals and slack guitar that they decide to intervene and convince you that to return you to your usual less-annoying state the void in your heart must be filled so obviously you find the solace and stability you need in the teachings of karl marx and you become a strong activist for socialism on your predominantly conservative white-wash public high school campus where you attract a modest following of burger kidz along with a couple weeaboos that help you tear down the entire social construct of your school and eventually name you the dictator of california a now independent nation until you get bored with that and finally remake your stupid ass blog under a new url. what a waste. ]
raxcity is now here.
motherknowsxbest.
❝ MOTHER ? OH MOTHER, nearly all the rooms are full ! ❞
jubilant vocals lift to awaken the tired walls of their home as he trots up its steps in search of the owner herself. the news is practically bursting out of him, but she must have retired to her room early.
❝ One man today, my gosh, you won’t believe it--he came all the way from Boston ! Just decided to drive here, I guess. Isn’t that something, mother-- ❞
speech and footing stop short at the sight of the figure occupying his own bedroom. she stands in the center, bright dress && bouncy blond curls juxtaposed with drab wallpaper && sparse furniture, and there’s the slightest hint of sorrow in her stance that somehow adds ten years to her appearance. grin fading slightly with the bewildered knitting of his brows, he hesitantly extends an arm towards her shoulder. a few steps in, his eyes land on the all-too familiar fabric in her hands :
a dress. her favorite dress, he’s suspected from observation, and one he personally admires on her. an empire-waist with an a-line skirt, constructed beautifully from faintly floral cotton and layered with a lace slip, its really quite elegant-looking despite a simple design. she wore it last night.
❝ What, uhm...wh-what are you holding that for ? Is everything alright ? I-it’s just that you’re acting very...well, strange, mother. ❞
so i havent been on here v much recently but like can you guys blame me my senior prom is less than a month away ok ive been SHOPPING and EXERCISING also i got my drivers permit last week !!!!!! my first lesson is tomorrow im stoked af. i’ll probably do a starter call a lil later in the week. or maybe after i find shoes to match my dress/ease my conscious idk we’ll see. to everyone i owe just know i haven’t forgotten just am........busy. v busi
avicuula.
&& housingtwo.
there’s still miles to go before he’s ANYWHERE near the city his father had sent him to, thinking he needed to SHAPE UP and learn r e s p o n s i b i l i t y . and yet, peter had stopped for a break in driving, found a NICE little club where he’d consumed something a bit stronger than ALCOHOL, and even he wasn’t stupid enough to know NOT to drive when he was higher than a fucking rocket. he ALSO wasn’t going to sleep in the back of his car, thought himself far better than something so d i s t i n c t l y pitiful, so he’d sought out the nearest hotel. as he BURST through it’s doors, the strength of his personality only magnified by the drugs in his system, it was impossible to miss his entrance. he was LOUD, he was boisterous, he was WILD YOUTH. coffee in hand, he made his way rather raucously to the front desk, only to MISJUDGE the distance, stumbling and spilling the liquid all over the front desk of the hotel. as HOT, BROWN drink spread, he couldn’t keep the LAUGHTER from tumbling out of his lips. of fucking course that would happen.
“ fuck, man, i’m SORRY. that was totally, my bad and rotten luck on your part. seriously sucks, i’d HATE to be you right now. but i mean, you should see your face. “
the words fall from PINK lips as youthful giggling lights up his face. peter pan is forever unable to take anything seriously at all, and so he simply doesn’t, sees this as yet ANOTHER one of life’s little jokes. and peter was NEVER one not to laugh at a good joke. the youth LEANS over the desk, half sprawling on it without realizing what he was doing, a s p a r k l e in his eye and an impish light to his face.
“ who even are you, man. you’re not… OH! right, a bed. i need a f u c k i n g bed. you got one? that’s what HOTELS are for, yeah? for fucking and beds and BOTH AT ONCE? “
A BRIEF SPURT of wild outrage nearly convinces him against the slightest semblance of hospitality towards the most reckless, vulgar youth ever to cross his path----before the sensation of hot liquid pooling from the desk to seep into his clothing is immediately brought to his attention. jumping to the side with a violent gasp--hip colliding hard with the edge of the desk--his first instinct is to pull the soaked sweater a a distance from his chest, only layered with the thin cotton of the shirt underneath. incredulous gaze rises to meet the delinquent’s features, lifted from jaunty giggles. brows knitting together, norman turns on his heel to fetch a roll of paper towels from the back room. he returns to swiftly, wordlessly stymie the dribbling coffee from ruining any other motel supplies besides the registry, sprawled out close to the spill and far from saving. it isn’t much of a loss, he supposes, for it never reached a point of being filled with signatures. he counters his grin with a scowl.
❝ Are you implying there’s another person in your car ? For goodness sake, I hope you didn’t drive here on your own. ❞
his tone is biting, lacking the customary cordiality applied to most guests. in regards to misguided boys ( a breed to which he could hardly relate to at that age ) , he can only be so accommodating. the coffee beginning to seep through its undershirt, he considers once removing it, before deciding he must maintain his dignity. he will show this boy, with slurred speech and absent eyes, a room if only to keep him off the streets until morning, when, along with the sun, will dawn sweet sobriety...hopefully. he won’t be able to check him in without the registry book, but he suspects his guest may be underage. if it wasn’t so late in the evening, he would have half a mind to alert the sheriff. with a wet plop, he sets a damp paper towel bundle atop the soiled book and reaches on the back wall for the key to room eleven----it should put some distance between them, so he can avoid the inevitable sounds of vomiting the next morning. he brushes briskly past him, into the doorway of his office.
❝ I’ll, uh...show you to your room. ❞
wxrshiiped.
housingtwo
STEP INTO MY CANDY STORE
“I’m sorry but do I look like the representative of the Loser Outreach Program? Go find another place to sit, geek. I think that Rodney has a couple of seats open at the Geek Squad HQ”
❝ OH, SURELY THERE’S no need for that, Heather...? Why, I--I only meant to ask how the poster board is coming along----for our history presentation ? I’ve finished writing our speeches, an-and I thought, uhm...well, I thought that maybe if you weren’t too busy... ❞
notimminent.
starter call ;; housingtwo
“ Have you figured out what happened to have the A/C die all of a sudden? I’ve had four different rooms call to complain and ask what we’re doing to fix it. Any news? “
❝ I’M NOT...ALL that talented with machines, I’m afraid. It would be in everyone’s best interest to call a repairman, but-- ...b-but my mother’s just at the store, we should wait for her.
In the meantime, though, it may be a good idea to search the office for a manual ! I-if it’s that dreadful in the rooms, we should be doing everything in our power to resolve it. ❞
ofbeastsandburdens.
housingtwo
‘ one might consider it rude to simply come in uninvited. how might we at xavier’s school for gifted children, help you?
❝ I’M...WHERE DID you say, again ? A school ? ❞
groggily rubbing his eyes, as if having been woken from sleep, he evaluates his surroundings for the first time in at least a few hours. the most immaculate building he’s ever seen, and he can’t even recall the walk over. his gaze reverts back to the suited man addressing him and he offers an honest reply :
❝ Why...--why, I don’t know what I’m doing here. I was just walking to my office, I-I could’ve sworn that’s...well. That’s the last thing I can remember, I’m afraid. ❞
there are times he forgets why he walked into a room, or when he began cooking dinner, but a mild case of short-term memory loss or temporary blackouts has never brought him anywhere unfamiliar before. the concern is mounting, but the embarrassment for a lacking explanation is more than he can bear.
❝ ...I’m so sorry, uhm. Do you--do you mind telling me where we are ? Please, that would be most helpful. ❞
clovcr.
housingtwo.
❛ hiya! um, uh.. ❜ her somerset accent, alien to anyone elses voice she’s heard in weeks is full of stammers, ❛ can i have a room, please, maybe? ❜
EYES BRIGHTEN AND vocals lift along with his smile :
❝ Why, of course you can ! Gosh, I was so surprised to see your headlights pulling in just now----we haven’t had a guest this whole week, you see. Usually they pass us right by. I’d be more than glad to check you in ! If you could just--just sign the registry here, miss..? ❞
sheergeniius.
❝ well like, if you’re ever too busy, me or rachel or somebody could probably help! rachel would be perfect, ‘cause she dresses like a hotel worker a l l t h e t i m e . — we go to mckinley high, from lima ohio! ❞
❝ IS THAT SO ? Ohio, that’s...well, it’s quite a ways away ! Gee I- I couldn’t imagine driving anywhere that far from home. But it’s for some kind of competition, right ? I suppose driving is cheaper than airfare.
Oh, do...do we dress a certain way, motel workers ? I ah--...hadn’t really noticed. See, I just wear things that are comfortable. ❞
iixtemictli.
▾ housingtwo wants to make a deal; hey, look at me, I’m a middle aged (dead) white woman !
❝ Hey, honey; does this dress make me look fat ? What about the seams, here, near my underarms – are they too distracting, too obtrusive ? Does it make it look like I’m possessed by an omniscient, otherworldly higher lifeform ? I can’t decide, myself – I might just return the dress. It’s really not working out. ❞
Her unsteady legs, long leeched of calcium, porous as limestone, wobble unsteadily at his command, infinite, all encapsulating knowledge of everything that was, is and shall be drawing blanks in the areas of anatomy, of how to balance in even the most prudish of heels. He flings the body at the dining table in a dire need to latch onto something for balance before he topples completely, gasping and cackling at his insight as he hoists himself onto a chair. ❝ I had to walk all the way down those pathetic, rickety stairs on broken femurs ! If you’re going to keep a corpse, I’ve got some words of advice, for you, ❞ he slurs, saliva twinged green, like the film of an egg yolk, dribbling from the corners of his vocal orifice.
Catching his hideous faux-pas and daintily raising a hand to smear it over his borrowed cheek in an effort to swipe it away, he continues, ❝ invest in some embalming. The second I leave this thing, it’s all going back to dust – see, you left the moisture in, which lead to bloating, which cracked the skin, and now this thing’s ruined. I returned its elasticity for the time being, but nothing can revert a stupid mistake ! I admit, though, ❞ he says, holding up his left hand, missing a finger at the second knuckle, ❝ I may have caused some … collateral damage. You know what ? Just send me the bill. ❞ He laughs.
THE SIGHT STIRS a violent terror within him, dormant yet constant, and he instantly rises from his seat. brows furrow in a forced attempt at preventing himself from gawking at her appearance as he rounds the dining table to approach her. trembling arms reach out to hold skeletal shoulders, his fingers trailing the fabric of her dress. concern settles heavily on his features. he averts his gaze. it’s just as he feared : her memory is fraying.
❝ Oh, mother...you wore this dress yesterday ! I was going to wash it for you----now look at the state of it ! ❞
a theatrical gesticulation towards the greenish drivel juxtaposed with pale floral print, and he releases an agitated sigh. he doesn’t mind caring for her, nor does he mind spending extra time scrubbing stains from her clothes ;; the detached finger hardly rattles his conscious ( at least, not like the first time this sort of thing happened. ) it’s the budding frustration, the foreboding fact that he simply won’t be able to sustain her much longer as the woman she once was. with each passing day she becomes less like herself, fluctuating into something unfamiliar...something to be feared.
he pulls a chair for her, urging her to sit before reaching for her left hand.
❝ Please hold still, mother. I can’t help you if you resist me. Now, I need you to try to remember what happened, or--or the place you, uhm. Dropped it. Can you remember that, mother ? ❞
ctherworldly.
housingtwo.
❛ what’d you say your name was again? ❜
❝ OH, IT’S NORMAN...Norman Bates. Gee, I’m real sorry about that ! I must’ve forgotten to introduce myself earlier. B-but I’m sure you know how it is, when it’s been, uh----a long day, and you can’t remember the darnedest things...anyway : how can I help you ? ❞
drekihilmir.
The pain shows in his expression, it’s heard in his voice, belied in the way he struggles just to stand, a hand propped against the doorframe. Soaked to the bone and looming. He must look strange. Unsettling, even. Hinrik is just grateful the man doesn’t seem suspicious of him. He tries to downplay it, even as he limps inside.
“It’s fine— I’m— fine. My car broke down, I’d fix it, but the storm—- my leg.” He’s reluctant to gesture to his prosthetic, but he does. “It hurts when it rains like this.”
HE WRAPS AN arm around the struggling man’s shoulders for support and dutifully helps him inside, nearly slipping on the sodden mat by the door before kicking it to the side. realizing the lack of seating in his office save for a modest stool tucked into the desk, he hastily navigates them into the back parlor.
❝ Gosh, what a--...a dreadful circumstance. It’s a good thing you found us when you did ! Typically people just pass us by, what with that diversion and all, but...boy, that sure is lucky. ❞
through laced panting and speaking, he sends a little smile in the direction of the man at his side and leads him to the closest sofa. he releases him, watching hesitantly as he props his prosthetic onto the adjacent cushion. those may need cleaning after this encounter, but at least his visitor appears somewhat at ease now.
❝ Can I get you anything ? Er, well, what do you normally do to treat...this ? I might be able to help, unless of course you just need to rest for a little while. In that case, I’d be happy to stay here and keep you company. ❞