#wornclean

[dxsole]

🍄 IT'S HERE, IT'S THERE, IT'S EVERYWHERE | @wornclean

"You know...that is not the brain of the fungus." He murmurs, slow but sure, matter-of-factly. His foot gently taps on the tip of the shroom poking through the forest floor, the man being ever so careful not to destroy the dear thing.

"That only produces spores. Purely for reproductive measures." Spindly fingers point at the ground beneath their feat, carving out a path with a twist of his wrist. "Underneath...there are channels. Filaments—" It had scoured Victor's brain for this information, for these words that were not its own. "in order to communicate with one another...and to connect to even the trees and the brush that grows...throughout the entire forest."

He could be an intellectual. Or perhaps just a strange man with a very specific interest. Either way, he seems very at home here, under the canopy, in the damp earth.

"What do you think they talk about?" He knows all too well what the talk about. "What do you think they share?" Spores are nearly microscopic. They're in the air now. Hundreds of them. Blowing with every gentle breeze.

"What do you think they can do?" Victor has been dead for four months now. That's what they can do.

[eviji]

@wornclean liked.

"I-have-your-mail."

[dxsole]

💖 on a first date ( for PENJANI from ALAN )

💖 DEPENDS ON THE VIBES! 💖

Still Accepting!

Penjani very much prefers more casual first dates— she likes to get to know people well and become better companions before something really romantic is pursued. So usually it's a lot of comfy cargos and slacks, low heels, and layers. She's big on hunter green (like her cool car!) and neutrals. She accessorized a lot too, lots of layered necklaces and multiple rings— overall she just wants to be comfortable and effortlessly cool (because she is!). For slightly fancier locales, it's a dress or set, but still comfortable and flowy. If she can't do a high kick in it, she's not wearing it tbh! With Alan, specifically, I think the top right outfit is definitely her go-to— they can both be in cargos!

[nabaidhean-neonach]

wrapped ❦ for @wornclean/pony

"Yeah, y'know, my old man always said nothin' good happens when it's late and you're dancing alone." She finishes her ( latest ) drink with a shrug and a bright grin. "So. I don't dance alone."

[mctcrcity-arch]

[ bathroom ] sender and receiver go to a public restroom together and have a normal conversation in between the stalls — from tucker

𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚝𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚎

“you think they’d, like…? i don’t even know…” fallon shakes her head and scoffs, leaning forward to unzip her bag. “throw a square reader on there or something? so many people don’t carry coins and stuff anymore!” terribly optimistic ideations concerning a public bathroom fallon had contemplated bypassing entirely. thank god she hadn’t, because who else would have been there to answer the ’need a tampon’ bat signal? now, she’s talking and bringing her hand much closer to this dirty tile than she ever normally would, offering the wrapped object under the wall separating the stalls. “here, dude.”

[guttersniper]

@wornclean

mutt stares at her over the edge of last week's the new yorker. "i want you to stop calling me sport."

[dxsole]

👙 LOOKS CAN BE DECEIVING | @wornclean

Squints. "I asked for constructive criticism, not to hear about your downstairs problems, hm."

Also, she's offended that he calls it a costume— it's lingerie and it's worth more than his trailer and his life. "I'm not wasting Coco de Mer on you. You're just going to have to use your imagination, hm."

The next words out of his mouth do make her so called nice face contort into a scowl. "I'm not a fucking SUV mom, you horse-lipped piece of shit. I've endeared myself to you because I don't actually associate with pathetic, mouth-breathing wet wipes to get a little bit of help and I get lip? From you? A man who looks like something an ass would spit up before keeling over dead? You? You think you have any right to—"

Plops down suddenly, arms crossed. "—I need some fucking Tylenol."

[narrativedemanded]

🌨 -- alison/elijah

Send 🌨 for our muses to get trapped in a snowstorm together. // @wornclean

Yeah, it's a shitty motel and Elijah didn't pay her to come help him clean it. Hell, Elijah hadn't paid her to do anything at all. All he'd done is known the weather forecast and recognized someone like himself-- though maybe a little more down on her luck since she'd been staying in her car and he'd had enough to buy a room.

He'd invited her to stay, two beds in the room, nothing shady, and for good or for worse, she'd agreed.

When he wakes up, Elijah feels the chill in the air. The old furnace system the motel had was still rattling away, it was just struggling to keep up. Alongside that, he could hear the wind just howling outside. The window was too frosted to see out of, so he goes to the door to open it and take a peek to see what the outside world looks like.

He's met with white.

White that falls inward, dousing his shoes in cold, frosty wetness and makes him jerk back in surprise.

"aw, shit." He mutters, looking at the tower of snow that comes to his waist. "fuckin' maine. this is why i go west in th'winter."