#had to urgently get this idea out of my head once i got my pc running again. shit has been eatin at me for months

[pencagil]

humbly contributing to the subgenre of spirk edits to mitski songs

#star trek tos #spock #james t kirk #spirk #k/s #had to urgently get this idea out of my head once i got my pc running again. shit has been eatin at me for months #my stuff

[macbetha]

below the cut, you'll find an interest check chapter for quatervois, a nancy drew pc fic. it's francy and also my idea of my absolute dream game. please let me know what you think and enjoy!

+++

After Ned breaks up with her and she loses her father, Nancy struggles to find her old vigor for detective work. While on vacation in London with Bess and George, Nancy accepts the urgent invitation to return Blackmoor Manor. Her English getaway quickly turns into an investigation once Nancy realizes the true reason Nigel Mookergee asked her back to the moors. Finding Deirdre Shannon at the manor under the same pretense only sets Nancy’s nerves further on edge. It isn’t until the Hardy Boys show up in Blackmoor that Nancy gets a glimpse of who she once was. With a manor full of suspects and a glass heart cracked open, Nancy is determined to find the truth.

Dear Ned,

How are you? It’s been a while. I’ve always started off my letters telling you about my latest case, but I’m not on one right now. I’m sure that’s hard to believe. Bess and George have whisked me away to London. I’m sure you would love it here. This is the first time I’ve seen Bess and George since I sold the house in River Heights. I stayed with Kyler and Matt in Ireland for a while. I needed a change of scenery. Their daughter just turned two. I’m somewhat jealous I’m happy for them. Anyways, I miss you I hope you’re doing well. I’m sure New York is lovely at Christmas time. I hope Stephanie is I wish Stephanie well How is Stephanie? I hope Stephanie is doing all right. I appreciated the card Stephanie sent when dad passed away. Warm regards, Merry Christmas, Love Nancy

She stares down at the letter as if the red ink were her own blood. It feels just as wounding, seeing her emotions made physical in the words on the paper. Only when a tear splatters on the page does she break free from her trance to the past. Nancy is the only person in her hotel suite, yet she works to rid the evidence like one of her own suspects. She pulls her feet up in the desk chair and crosses her ankles, holding the arch of her right foot – it recently became the victim of her latest culprit. Nancy’s foot got caught under the getaway car’s tire, and she is lucky to even be able to walk after the event. Months later, it’s stiff as hell with the most intense cramps she’s ever endured. Heart racing to forget the night it happened, she focuses on the snowfall out the window – counting little sparkles of snowflakes, though the world blurs when she squints. The doctor thought her failing sight as well as the daily headaches were on account of being hit in the head so many times.

She busies herself with choosing a postcard to send Hannah and Nancy selects one with a cat dressed up as a royal guard. The cuteness puts a smile on her face, however small – she hopes it’ll do the same for Hannah, but there is no telling. Nancy had the gut-feeling Hannah was lying about recognizing her the last time Nancy visited the nursing home. Torment swirls like wind to fallen leaves. She doesn’t have Hannah or Togo to come home to. Togo passed just before Nancy’s thirty-second birthday, and Carson fell ill soon after that. Nancy looks to her hotel bed where Mr. Woogle Woggle sits tucked between two pillows. It seems he is the only one that hasn’t left her. A knock on her hotel door reminds her that is simply not true. Nancy rights herself, fixing her posture to the stance of someone passionate, and she opens the door. Bess and George greet her with blazing smiles; Nancy gives silent thanks for their presence in her life. She would still be in Scotland with Kyler and Matt, had Bess and George not insisted to take her on a vacation. Nancy imagines that their insistence was due to them wanting to keep Nancy from spending Christmas alone on the road again like last year. “Nancy,” Bess stresses. “You’re never going to guess who we ran into in the lobby!” Horror strikes dull and loud in her ears. Surely, it’s not Ned. Please, don’t let it be Ned. George says, “Give you a hint: they were involved in one of your cases.” Nancy’s despair leaves her throat tight. She glances down the hallway, preparing to yank Bess and George into her room and dial her Cathedral contact to get them set up in witness protection.

“That didn’t narrow it down at all, George,” Bess says with a roll of her eyes. “Nancy’s been on hundreds of cases.” Nancy’s strain creeps into her one word: “Who?” Bess and George beam. “Maya Nguyn!” ++

Nancy follows Bess and George to the elevator in a hurried stupor. No thoughts can she conjure as she steps free from the elevator walls which seem to close in on her; Nancy marches into the lobby and notices a woman in the crowd of tourists. She stands with her back to Nancy, her hair drawn up in a bun, and her chin is lifted high with no time for games. Maya turns around and her bright red mouth stretches into a smile. “Nancy!” “Maya,” Nancy huffs in disbelief. She tenses in Maya’s sudden embrace before all but falling into it. This is something good I did; Nancy cherishes with shut eyes. This is someone I helped. When Maya pulls back, Nancy says, “What are you doing all the way out here? You said in your last letter, you were still in Washington.” “My house is technically there,” Maya nods. “But I get to work on the road more these days.” Her brows crease over a sympathetic smile. “Bess and George tell me you’re kind of in the same boat.” Nancy shrugs, struggling to hold Maya’s concerned gaze. “It’s just easier,” Nancy lies. Maya seems to see right through it, but she doesn’t speak on it. Nancy will have to thank her later. George says, “Maya offered us free tickets to a play she’s reviewing tonight and get this – it’s at the Globe Theater!” “Remind me what’s so special about a globe theater,” Bess sighs, checking her nails. “Not ‘a’, Bess, the.” George shakes her head. “The Globe Theater – well, technically it’s a reconstruction of the first one, but it’s where Shakespeare wrote his plays.” “It’s the opening night of a new play,” Maya explains. “And Nancy, you’ll never guess who the star is.” Nancy cannot take anymore guessing games. “Brady Armstrong.” Maya blinks. “Well – yes, actually.” Nancy frowns. “Wait, really?” “Yes,” Maya laughs. “I’ll be conducting an interview with him after the show if you want to go backstage and chew him out for all the stunts he pulled back in the day.” A spark of vigor heightens Nancy’s senses. That doesn’t sound bad at all. Still – “Are you sure we won’t be a distraction or –” “Nancy.” Maya’s hand falls on her shoulder. “You saved my life. You’re the furthest thing from a distraction.” Gratitude floods her before Nancy nods. “All right, then.” +++ The walk to the Globe would be depressive what with the sky being the color of a soaked napkin, but the Christmas decorations lift everyone’s spirits. Nancy limps by a shop playing Christmas oldies through the open door and she is borne back to her father listening to records over cocoa on Christmas morning. She tries to push the memory from her mind, then she thinks of building snowmen with Ned and having snowball fights that turned into the sweetest kisses she’s ever received. The music won’t stop. There are three Christmas trees in the display window and their flashing lights strike pain behind Nancy’s eyes. She pants through a sensory overload before someone squeezes her hand. Maya smiles in understanding as Bess and George walk obliviously in front of them. “It’s hard,” Maya says. “This life on the road. You pick up a few habits.” Nancy squeezes her hand in thanks before tucking her own in her peacoat’s pocket. “I want to enjoy this,” she admits quietly. “But I think the holidays are always hard.” Maya nods. “It won’t be this way forever, Nancy,” she promises. “I’ve got my fingers crossed for you.” Cross your fingers, there’s a story behind this door! Nancy swallows around the lump of panic in her throat. She plasters on a smile. +++ The theater is packed with noise and touching and all-around boisterous patrons. They find their seats in the crowd and Nancy doesn’t watch where she’s going – she must keep her eyes on the open ceiling to remember how to breathe. She sits down at the end of the group and Maya passes out programs. Quatervois, the title reads. Bess says, “What does that mean?” “It means you’re at a crossroads,” Maya says. “A turning point.” “Sounds a little dramatic,” George grumbles. Nancy traces the swooping lines of the title with

her thumb, repeating the process until the lights go down. The masked chorus emerges from the shadows and gives a synopsis: Down from Olympus a great hero emerges, Mighty in his strength and courage! A choice he must make Shall he ignore fate? Will he choose love, Or follow his destiny there-of? When Brady saunters on stage in an impossibly short silk chiton, it’s an out-of-body experience for Nancy. He still hasn’t grown his ponytail back, so Simone could very well be in the audience right now. Nancy rubs her aching temple at the thought. Brady begins his journey as the character Diogenes, a demigod that was supposedly – according to the play’s plot – written out of ancient Greek mythos. Diogenes must defeat those who want to leave him forgotten in history, lest he admit that he can’t win this fight and live his life like everyone else. Nancy assumes the play’s ending too soon. She imagines this will be a droll experience written only to paint Brady as a glorious hero that can conquer anything – but she is quickly surprised. Brady is stabbed in the final act and addresses the audience in a wail: And so my story ends a breath too early, No time to even be weary! The moon shall pass over my corpse, And the sun will beat down on my ashes with no remorse. Today, I have failed my quartervois Alone, forgotten, and lost. When the curtain falls, Nancy’s mouth is parted in disbelief as a tear burns down her cheek. They don’t receive a proper goodbye with Maya since the rest of the crowd is bustling toward the exit. She does have time to say that Brady is producing a new television series and will be scouting some locations further into Essex; Maya will be following the film crew there for test shoots. She embraces each girl individually and holds Nancy for a beat longer, whispering, “You’ll call if you need to talk?” “Of course,” Nancy says by impulse. “Same to you.” +++ Nancy is proud of herself for going out, but when she closes the door to her hotel suite, her back thunks against the wall and she must take deep breaths for several minutes. She decides to treat herself to a bubble bath even though it’s nearly midnight. She rolls her hair up into a bun and looks at it in the mirror, how haphazard and messy hers is in comparison to Maya. Nancy isn’t jealous – but she can’t help but notice when people are thriving. She wants to figure out how to do it herself and hasn’t found the cure yet. The bath is claw-footed and deep. Nancy sinks into the steaming water before goosebumps rise on her arms, and her freckled skin blushes in the heat. The water does wonders for her foot. She eases her head back on the lip of the tub and nears a light doze when her cell phone rings. It rests atop a stack of towels by the tub. Nancy wipes her damp hand off before looking to the screen. Frank Hardy. Nancy answers and taps the speaker button to relax back in the tub. “Hey.” “Hi, Nance,” Frank says, his voice a familiar balm after such a stressful time. “What’s going on?” “Things aren’t too different from last week’s call,” Nancy smiles. “But I’m on vacation with Bess and George.” “Oh wow! That’s awesome. I hope it’s been fun.” Nancy’s glazed eyes blink. “Yeah,” she rasps. “It’s nice.” She clears her throat, searching for her old enthusiasm. “But what about you? How’s Joe?” “Same as usual, a pain in my ass.” Nancy chuckles before a distinctive lift raises Frank’s voice. “We’re actually getting ready to get on a plane for a case – but I wanted to make sure everything’s good with you.” Nancy’s hand closes in a fist on her raised knee. “Gosh, it’s been so long since I’ve been on a case.” “Not really. You just took a few months off to stay with Kyler, right?” “Yeah, but that’s the longest I’ve ever gone without a case since I started.” “I’d give you ours if I could,” Frank says. “Really not looking forward to such a long plane ride. Oh, they’re calling for our gate – but do you want me call you when I land?” Gratefulness is a warm glow in her heart. “No, that’s okay – but

thank you. Be safe on your trip and tell Joe I said hi.” “Can do.” Frank pauses. “I – tell Bess and George I said hi.” “Can do,” Nancy repeats. She chews her lip. “See you soon?” She feels foolish for saying something when Frank is headed to a case. While the weekly phone calls have kept Nancy sane, it would be even better to see the Hardy Boys. “I’ll make it happen,” Frank promises. “See you, Nance.” After they hang up, Nancy struggles to get out of the tub with her swollen foot. She gets into a pair of sweats and wraps up some ice in a washcloth, then holds it against her foot. Nancy mulls over her conversation with Frank, wondering how much of her poor mood could be due to not solving a mystery. With a deep yawn, she tosses the soaked washcloth in the wastebasket, not able to walk to the bathroom to put it in the sink. She cuddles up to her teddy bear and flicks the lamp off when her phone rocks to life on the nightstand. Bewildered, Nancy turns the lamp back on to look at the screen. The number is unknown; she sees her hand tremble around the phone. She lets the call go to voicemail before the phone vibrates to life once again. Bracing herself, Nancy answers. “Hello?” “Yes, hello – I’m trying to reach a one Nancy Drew?” The voice is British and eerily familiar, like Nancy heard it in a dream. “This is she.” “Splendid! Oh, you wouldn’t believe the trouble I’ve gone to in order to find your number.” “Sorry? Who is this?” “Why, Nigel Mookergee. We met at –” “Blackmoor,” Nancy whispers. “Nigel, hi. What’s going on?” “I’m afraid the manner of my call is not a jovial one,” he says. “How should I explain this? Well, I suppose from the start. You see –” He sighs. “Don’t tell anyone I’m speaking of this, but the Penvellyns have fallen into a bit of… financial trouble.” Nancy says, “’Financial trouble’?” “It’s certainly not my business to spread, but yes. It’s not that they are a poor family by any means, but one diplomat’s salary is not enough to keep up a castle.” Nancy sits up, grabbing a pen and notepad from her bedside table. She jots as Nigel continues. “The Penvellyns began to host historical tours at the manor – much to Mrs. Drake’s dismay, I might add. Jane wishes to expand the business to the paranormal side of things, and I don’t quite agree with the idea myself, but she insists it’s just what the manor needs.” Nancy finishes scrawling and says, “So, you’re working for the Penvellyns now?” “Yes. I’m afraid there’s been some situations – inconsequential events, if you will – that need a glance over.” Nancy arches a brow. “You mean an investigation.” “Ah, such a serious word. I simply want to make sure we are fully prepared to expand the business.” Nancy’s eyes narrow. “Right. When would you need me there?” “As soon as possible -” Nigel catches himself. “I mean, at your earliest convenience.” Nancy glances over her notes, running her hand over the page filled by red ink. She closes her eyes against the sight and says, “I’ll be there tomorrow.”

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#nancy drew #nd #nancy drew pc #nd pc #CUR #clue crew #blackmoor manor #curse of blackmoor manor #francy #frank hardy #nancy drew fanfiction

[mariposamagazine]

Manic Pixie Swamp Thing

a short story by Laura Garnica

Leo Torres looked at his Apple watch again, his left foot tapping restlessly on the pavement. He ran a large, clumsy hand through his wavy black hair and glanced up at the rising moon. It gets dark so early now.

6:06.

Should I send a text? He wondered. Nah, I’ll give it another five minutes. She’ll be here.

He fidgeted with the straps of his blue face mask. It took some getting used to, even after seven months of living through a pandemic. Leo worked from home, so he rarely went into public spaces, rarely had to bother with putting one on. He still couldn’t get over the discomfort– it made him think of the face-huggers from Alien.

6:07.

He hoped the other café patrons weren’t getting creeped out. Tall brown kid with a backpack lurking on the street corner, practically sweating with nerves despite the chill October air… and this café was in one of the nicer parts of the city, on top of that. An elderly white lady stared him down and clutched her Chanel purse a little tighter as she passed him on the sidewalk. “Maldita vieja bruja,” he muttered with an eye roll. But Leo didn’t want to get a table without his date; it seemed more polite to wait so that they could go to the hostess together. Or am I just overthinking it?

6:08.

Was this even a good idea? Asking out a girl whose face you’ve never seen? Leo’s friends had given him so much shit when they found out she didn’t have social media.

“How do even you know if she’s cute or not?” Sammy had demanded. “It’s practically a blind date– and she’s already deaf.”

Leo bristled. “First of all, she’s just mute, not deaf. And second, there’s more important things than appearance, dick.”

Sammy and their other roommate, Josh, had crept into Leo’s bedroom during his ASL class yesterday to catch a glimpse of their friend’s mysterious crush. Leo had almost burst a vein when he spotted them in the corner of his screen, their goofy faces peering over his shoulder like a couple of kids, barely containing their snickering. The minute class was over, he stormed into the kitchen to glare at them.

Sammy nudged him with a grin. “Bro, she was the only one wearing a mask in her video. You’re telling me she shows up to virtual class like that, every time?”

Leo shrugged, turning pink.

“I mean, she’s always zooming from this café in uptown, so she kinda has to.”

“What, like she hasn’t had internet at home the whole semester?”

Josh looked up from his phone to add “…it’s a little sus, dude.”

“And her name is… Lilin? Is that some crunchy-granola white girl name? Like did they forget to add the ‘a’ for Lilian?”

Leo couldn’t help but crack a smile at this. It was kind of a weird name.

Josh started laughing– “Ey, maybe that’s the answer, Sam. Maybe her family is the hardcore hippy type– you know, like the ones who believe in chemtrails and don’t even own a microwave or a tv.”

Whatever. She was nice, and she was really sweet when they got paired up in class last week. Besides, she was way better at ASL than him, and she didn’t seem to mind helping him out. She was a good listener, too… although she didn’t offer up much information about herself, so it was a pretty one sided conversation. Have to remedy that today, he thought.

6:10.

A slender girl with silky white-blonde hair that fell to her hips emerged from the crowded crosswalk. Her dark eyes sparked with recognition when she spotted Leo, who began enthusiastically waving an arm in the air in front of Cafe Étude. She wore a burgundy sundress over a black turtleneck and tights, with a black mask made of some kind of silky material. Leo adjusted the collar of his button down nervously.

Hi, he signed.

Hi, Leo. Nice to finally meet you in person, she replied, her spidery hands moving far more deftly than his.

He nodded towards the podium by the entrance of the café, and they walked up to the bored-looking hostess together.

“Table for two?” she drawled. “Sit anywhere you like,” gesturing to the recently expanded outdoor seating, each metal table placed a careful six feet apart from the next, spilling over the sidewalk into the street.

“Thanks,” Leo replied. They found an empty table in the corner of the outdoor seating area nearest to the café itself. Leo slung his backpack off his shoulders and leaned it against one of the table legs, rummaging around for his school binder and lecture notes. He felt her dark eyes watching him even before he resurfaced, arms full of papers and notebooks and his beat up laptop. She had such a curious presence about her… Or I’m just not used to being around new people anymore, he thought sheepishly. Still, Leo found himself reluctant to meet those strange eyes.

I’m glad you asked me to study with you. It’s better signing in person than over Zoom, she relayed. She bent down to gather her own laptop out of her satchel, white-blonde hair falling in a curtain over her face. It was sort of absurd, how long it was. Leo hadn’t seen a girl with hair that long since elementary school days. As she tucked it behind her ear, he got a glimpse of the edges of her mask– it was definitely one of those fancy ones, because it covered every inch of her face below the eyes, and tied behind her ears instead of relying on the usual cheap elastic bands.

What is it? she signed.

Leo felt his face flush in embarrassment.

Your hair. It’s really long.

She didn’t blink. Leo’s hands stuttered.

In a good way! It’s pretty, I mean.

Her eyes crinkled ever so slightly– the barest hint of a smile. She popped open her laptop– an old PC, no stickers– and the blue-aproned waiter returned, hovering over them with a notepad. Leo quickly asked Lilin what she wanted.

“One latte and one iced earl grey tea, please. And uh, some toast, too.” The waiter scurried away, and Leo smiled at Lilin under his mask, before realizing she probably couldn’t tell if he was smiling, either.

He remembered she had mentioned moving to the city recently, and asked her how it had been, transitioning during a pandemic.

It was… okay, she replied, her hands moving much more slowly now. It’s just me, so… there wasn’t much to move.

Oh. Where are you from, anyways? Sorry, I feel like I should know that.

At this she paused, dark eyes boring into him, unblinking.

Very far from here. You wouldn’t know it.

A tense silence formed and began to stretch between them– Leo unsure of how to reply when she so clearly didn’t want to open up.

Thankfully their waiter returned before the awkwardness became unbearable, balancing a plate of toast and their two drinks in small ceramic cups.

“Ah, thank you so much,” Leo called to the waiter as she left their table.

“You mind if I…?” he gestured to his face.

I promise I’m good, I just took a test on Monday (it was negative) and I took my temperature before I came here, he signed.

Lilin nodded, the strange look in her eyes gone. Leo sighed with relief as he removed his cloth mask, folding it neatly in his lap. He smiled nervously. Why was she so cagey when I asked about where she moved from? he thought. He grabbed a slice of toast from the plate and started nibbling on it, flipping through yesterday’s lecture notes. He looked up at the sound of her grabbing her glass of tea, and tried to hide his excitement. Leo tried not to stare as she carefully adjusted the cup a few inches to the right of her laptop. No reveal. She caught him staring and he fixed his face so his disappointment wasn’t so palpable. Lilin said nothing, but he felt like she was smirking at him.

Their study session passed by quickly, Lilin often stopping to ask if he needed help, or creating conversation. He found himself telling her about his siblings back home, his longtime interest in languages, his love of animals. She had very little to say when he asked the same questions of her, but that seemed to be her MO so he quickly gave up on pushing her.

You raised pigs yourself? she asked, her eyes incredulous.

Damn, this really is a good way to practice, he thought as he struggled to convey that the agriculture program was a big deal in a small, rural town like his. Not to mention he grew up on a ranch for half his childhood.

Did you feel bad for them? She asked.

Who, the pigs? Yes. Worst part.

Her eyes narrowed in what was either a concerned frown, or a strange half smile, he couldn’t be sure.

She never took off her mask once, not even to try the toast. By nine, they had covered the entire midterm practice exam.

Cafe Étude began closing up shop, so Leo and Lilin began to pack up their things as well.

How are you feeling about the midterm next week? Lilin signed.

Do you think you still need more practice? If you want to keep going tonight, I don’t mind. She slung her satchel over her shoulders and stared at him expectantly. Leo chuckled nervously.

“Yeah, I definitely feel better about it, but knowing myself, that probably doesn’t mean much. I don’t wanna put you out though, Lilin! It was really nice of you to even meet up with me to study in the first place.”

She stepped closer to him, and the scent of seaweed and ocean brine tickled his nostrils. The city was thirty miles from the nearest beach, but suddenly that didn’t seem to matter in the moment.

It’s okay, Leo, I’m happy to help. You’re very nice. This was a nice study… date.

Leo felt his face burning under his mask. I mean, this was going pretty well but I didn’t think it was going THAT well, he thought incredulously.

He started when he felt a cold hand enveloping his, Lilin trailing her long fingers across his palm. Her eyes, so dark and deep, unblinking on his. It felt like his head was leaving his shoulders, like those strange, lovely eyes were hypnotizing him. He slowly reached towards her ear, hands trembling as he brushed the edge of her mask with his fingertips. Then her hand was around his wrist like a vice, pulling it away from her face with barely restrained force. She let go to sign, her hands moving quickly, urgently.

No, not here. Let’s finish studying at my place? I live alone.

Everything felt so far away, like Leo was watching the scene unfold from the comfort and distance of a movie theater seat. Getting his hands to reply felt like having to wade through deep water.

Okay.

Her cold hand was on his again, and before he knew it the café was far behind, as well as the bustling streets of mid-city. The streetlights became infrequent, their light a dull orange on quiet sidewalks where rows of identical, impassive houses loomed over the couple. Leo didn’t recognize this part of town, it seemed strangely empty. He found that he couldn’t even remember what streets they had taken to get there. Lilin hadn’t let go of his hand since they had started walking, so they walked in silence. That odd scent continued to waft behind her, that briny, seaweed smell. Her hand was so cold and clammy, and even though his was like a radiator it hadn’t warmed in the slightest. Yet still, Leo couldn’t find it in himself to be worried. Her white-blonde hair flowing over her shoulders, those dark, dark eyes. It was enough just to see her, be near her. There was something special about her, he felt.

At last Lilin came to a halt, and let go of his hand to sign we’re here.

It was a bland house similar in style to its neighbors on that long, endless street, converted into apartments, all of which looked empty. Leo realized that there hadn’t seemed to be any places with their lights on since they’d turned on this street.

Lilin rummaged around in her bag for keys, then led him up the porch stairs to the red door on the left. Leo took out his phone to offer some light as she fumbled with the lock in the dark. A harsh scraping sound and then the click of the door being opened– strange, Leo thought. No service out here. He gently tapped her shoulder.

Hey, Lilin, does your phone have service? he signed. She simply stared at him for a moment before stepping into the pitch-black hallway. Leo waited for lights to come on, but they never did– instead, the rusty scrape of a match could be heard, and there was Lilin lighting a candle wall sconce as if it was the most normal thing in the world. But still… something in him told him it was just part of her nature, not to worry. Candle light seemed to suit her better, somehow. Yes, this was how it was supposed to be. He stepped through the doorway into the velvety darkness.

It was cold. The air felt stagnant, like the place hadn’t seen fresh air in weeks.

Lilin blew out the lit match and took the candle she had lit from its sconce, using it to light the other candles scattered throughout the hallway. The flames seemed to duplicate each time one was lit, until he realized that there were mirrors of all different sizes covering the drab walls. It was a rather small foyer with a single doorway at the end. Whatever was beyond that doorway was a mystery; the darkness was a door of its own, obscuring whatever lay beyond their little circle of candlelight. She dropped her satchel to the floor with a thunk, not even giving it a second glance. Once the hall candles were lit, she walked back to Leo and placed the candle in his hand, gently wrapping his fingers around its base.

I want to show you something, Leo, she signed. He swallowed thickly, a nervous smile spreading slowly under his mask. It was cold, but he felt lucky. She chose me, he thought sluggishly.

Lilin reached for the bottom of her skirt and pulled her dress over her head in a quick fluid motion. She tossed the garment into the dark, unlit room adjacent to the foyer. In shock, all Leo could do was continue to stand there holding the candle, staring like an idiot. Lilin moved on to her boots, her tights, and then before he could process any of it, she was naked, save for her mask. Her body was thin, so thin her ribs protruded from her abdomen. Her skin was the same uniform milky paleness, almost translucent in areas that it stretched thinly over her bones. Not a single freckle or mole or distinguishing mark, just that smooth white glow. Almost like the belly of a fish, a thought came to him from far, far away. Her long hair gleamed in the candlelight, sections covering her nakedness like a Renaissance painting.

She walked slowly, deliberately around him till he felt cold, slender arms tenderly wrapping around his waist from behind. Her skin was even colder than the air in the room– it made him shiver, and yet, seeing their reflection in the mirrors around them gave him that strange sense of belonging again– she chose him. He was lucky, wasn’t he? Her hands ran over the front of his jacket, unzipping it, and he felt her chin rest gently on his shoulder.

Leo barely felt the heat of the candle wax that was now dripping down his hand. Somewhere, some small part of him wondered what the fuck was going on. And still, he could do nothing, say nothing… He wanted to leave, but he had to see her face. He had to. Then things would make sense, then he could leave.

“Lilin…”

And then her spidery fingers were reaching behind her ears, the whisper soft sound of the silk ties running through her hair as she loosened the mask. Through the mirror before them, her eyes did not leave his, did not blink. It was so cold, he realized, so cold in that hallway. The flickering candlelight cast strange shadows on the walls and floors, whose spaces between the mirrors he saw were blank and dingy. No photos, no decorations, no windows, either. The wax burning his flesh felt so far away now.

Lilin slowly pulled her mask from her face, the ties trailing against his shoulder, and Leo watched through the mirror with absurd fascination as she revealed an empty black hole where her nose should have been. The skin of her face was drawn tight, like plastic stretched over a skull. A mouth that was like a fresh gash on her face, her lips raw and red and far too long– her smile nearly stretched from ear to ear.

Lilin let her mask fall softly to the floor before wrapping her arms around him again, tighter. Leo found that he could not move. Maybe he hadn’t been able to move this whole time. He couldn’t even move his head to look back at the door. Was there a door to begin with? The memory of the keys and the flashlight and the sound of the lock scraping open felt like memories from another lifetime.

What time is it? Their faces next to one another in the mirror looked almost comical; a study in opposites. His own face, still somehow so calm and relaxed. But there wasn’t anything to worry about, anymore, really.

Lilin’s strange, awful mouth began to move. Those red, raw lips parting to reveal a crimson mouth lined with row upon row of long, thin, glittering teeth.

Teeth like an anglerfish, he thought to himself from far away, with strange amusement.

A voice like a scream, a song like a dirge filled the dark corners of the room.

#writing #student writing #mariposa magazine #short story #fiction #horror

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[thatonelucky]

Twist of Fate - Chapter 8

I’m on a roll and I can’t stop

read on AO3

Part 7

               “So this is your office, it has the best skyline view of the city and my desk will be right outside. If there’s anything you need just call me in or press the button on the desk to use the intercom. Your meetings and schedules will be on the board next to the couch. I think that’s all, I’ll leave you to get set up.” The tall brunette, Betty had learned was Natalie, told her. Once the door had closed, Betty truly observed the beauty of her office. Jughead had pulled out all of the stops.

               The office was increasingly larger than she had originally expected. The dark cream walls meld perfectly with the spruce wood floors. She had her own loveseat couch with a glass coffee table that held a tray of brownies, cookies and a bottle of champagne. There was a flat screen TV on the opposing wall that Betty thought was way too big to be an office TV. Her desk was positioned in front of the wall of windows, showing the most incredible view of Manhattan she had ever seen. Her office PC was an IMac which she had suspected was the case when walking past the rest of the offices. None were this grand.

               Her desk was much like her coffee table, though the drawers were matching the spruce wood of the floor. Her chair looked comfy and professional but she couldn’t help but get excited that it was a spinney chair. The whole office was perfect, even better than she had imagined. A stray note was laid in front of her computer with her name sprawled neatly on the front. She placed down the box of things she had brought with her and sat in the chair, opening the note with a slight smile.

               ‘Miss Cooper. I cannot express enough gratitude that you gave a small corporate man like me such an incredible potential. With your help, the Blue and Gold will be a booming success. I can already tell that you’re going to be an absolute pleasure to work with. Also, can we have curry for dinner please? Much love, Forsythe Jones-Lodge aka your very hungry roommate.

               Betty giggled at the note, knowing that he couldn’t have been that hungry since they had a mountain of waffles for breakfast. She was happy that they’d become such good friends recently, Betty feels like she can really be herself around him. Something she had never been able to do with anyone except Kevin and Veronica. Her mother was always good at blocking out the light and keeping everyone in darkness.

               “Sorry, Miss Cooper, you have a 10 o’clock with Mr. Jones-Lodge in the conference room. Apparently it’s urgent.” Natalie came around from the corner, a grimace on her face. “I’m a lot more organized than this usually, I promise.” She suddenly smiled and handed Betty a brief. The clock read 9:35 meaning Betty had 20 minutes to read over the brief and rush to the conference room. The conference room was on the 13th floor which was two floors below Betty’s.

               The 14th floor was the editors floor, but she had come to learn that Jughead would rather she was on the same floor as him, seeing as she was the lead editor and held more importance than the others. She hated to hear that but being on the 15th floor was incredible, even if it was full of partners and the founder. She did feel important.

               “Thank you Natalie, and please, call me Betty.” Betty grabbed the brief and sat down on the couch flicking through it. Natalie flashed a smile and went to sit back at her desk. The paper wasn’t as long and boring as Betty had imagined. Mainly it was just introducing a new marketing idea to boost sales over the Christmas period. Betty had a lot of ideas she’d like to voice. She made a quick note of the few and checked the time.

               “9:59? Shit!” Betty cussed herself and flew off of the couch, running through the halls and down the stairs, taking note of nothing except which step she had to take next. She made it to the conference room in record time only to find that Jughead was in there alone setting up his laptop. He noticed her presence almost instantly, walking over to welcome her with a warm hug.

               “Hey, you’re early.” Jughead gave her a tight squeeze and pulled away, straightening the stray papers on the table. Betty checked the time on her watch seeing that it was 9:52. Confusion racked through her brain until she realized she had been reading the time wrong the entire time before. She sighed heavily, plopping down in the chair next to Jughead’s. He stifled a laugh, sitting in his seat and giving another few taps at his laptop.

               “I read my watch wrong.” Betty chuckled and flicked her eyes over to Jughead. “Adding some last touches to the presentation?” Betty wondered, watching him type away eagerly doing God knows what. He stopped abruptly and looked at her, a mix of expression on his face.

               “So you can’t tell anyone this, at all. But Archie wants to propose to Ronnie.” Jughead smiled proudly whilst Betty squealed uncontrollably. She couldn’t form any words to say before Jughead carried on. “I helped him pick out a ring a few weeks ago and now he’s creating all these scenarios in his head about Ronnie saying no.” He sighed heavily. Betty peeked a look at the chat, resting her chin on Jughead’s shoulder to get a good view.

               Betty was halfway through reading the conversation when the first wave of partners came in. She immediately moved away from Jughead and got all of her ideas ready to talk out her ideas in a thorough and guided manner. However, that was not what the partners had in mind. Every time Betty had tried to speak, someone cut her off with some bad idea that gets shut down 5 minutes later.

               Every chance he got, Jughead would encourage Betty to speak over them. Always asking for her input in an idea and smirking when she shut the bad ideas down. He would shush the partners speaking over her and motion her to carry on. Betty found it very endearing but swiftly made it apparent that she could speak over them without his help. And in the end, the partners were amazed by her concepts which led to her idea being the chosen one. With a grin on her face, she walked back to her office and started on her first assignment. What a great start to the day.

Remember that I accept prompts and any feedback you’d like to give me

Part 9

#bughead #bughead fanfic #bughead fanfiction #betty and jughead #jetty #betty cooper #jughead jones #riverdale #riverdale fanfic #riverdale fanfiction #thatonelucky

[nurseynurse]

breathing fire

and here is chapter one of the Inkheart AU!! (ty @gingeremoji for the literal coolest au idea and @shit-to-remember for a buncha good ideas on how to explore character dynamics!) 

 read on ao3 here 

Derek Nurse was twelve when he stopped reading aloud. He had tried so, so many times to stop earlier, but his teachers caught on relatively quickly to his fake coughs and croaky mutters of "sore throat". His moms had warned him against it, warned him that awful things might happen, to him or his classmates, if he kept reading aloud; in second grade, he read a story about a dog to the kids in his reading group. A few minutes later, where the bin of art supplies once sat, a small terrier puppy was panting quietly, flopping down and staring at the children with wide black eyes. Derek didn't think it was too awful. A few months later, he read aloud a story about a man who lost his hat. By the end of the story, Derek knew where the hat was, but when he looked up, his teacher was gone. He wore the hat home. When, a few days later, the principal came into the classroom to introduce their new teacher, Derek wondered if it was his fault, if his mothers were right, and vowed to never read out loud again. By the time he was in third grade, his previous teachers had warned, essentially, every teacher in the whole school about Derek's ornery behavior. He didn't think he was that bad of a kid, really, but when they were doing popcorn reading in fifth grade and the kid across the room called on him to read the paragraph in their science textbook about giant blue whales, he couldn't help but shut down. The teachers called it a behavioral problem. He called it self-defense. He wonders, often, how awful he must have been in a past life to deserve something like this, to be a gifted writer too terrified to read aloud. He wonders, often, whether it was because he couldn't read aloud that sparked his obsession with words. He wonders, often, if there's some pill, some drug, some cleanse that might make it all go away. 

He wonders where the fuck his laptop is.

“Dude, did I leave my laptop at your place?” He asks into his phone, scrubbing a hand over his face and trying to decide whether the amount of coffee he had drunk today was proportionate with the amount of sleep he had the night before. He hears shuffling on the other line.

“Uh, yeah, I think so?” Chowder responds, his voice a little muffled. “Unless I got a Mac recently and didn't realize I was forking over a stupid amount of money just so I can ‘maintain my aesthetic’.” Nursey scoffs.

“I’m not having this conversation with you again. I will die before a get a shitty PC.”

“Just because you don't know how to use a computer doesn't mean you have to take it out on PCs, Nursey.” Chowder laughs across the line and even though he’s wound up and exhausted, he can't help but laugh back. If there was one thing he learned in college, it was that he would never meet someone with a laugh as infectious as Christopher Chow’s. “Do you want me to bring it over?” Nursey opens his mouth to argue, that he’ll come pick it up because, really, Chowder is too nice. He’s so tired, though, and he needs to get these chapters emailed to his editor in the next half hour or he thinks she might combust. If he doesn't sleep in the next half hour, he thinks he might combust. His chapters are shit, though, for some reason he can't comprehend, can't seem to work past, and they’re already past deadline.

“That would be so fuckin’ ‘swawesome, man.” He says, instead, and sinks into his couch. “Want me to order a pizza or something? We can get wine drunk and watch It’s Always Sunny.” Chowder laughs again and Nursey can almost feel his grin.

“‘Course. I'll be over in twenty.”

***

He would never admit it, but Derek Nurse is a lightweight. Of course, he didn’t have to admit anything: anyone who spent time with him for more than five minutes in any situation involving alcohol would know that. It fucked up his aesthetic, honestly, and ruined any possibility at becoming the kind of classic author whose diet consisted of scotch and cheap cigarettes. Scotch affected him almost as intensely as tequila did, and he’d always been a rowdy drunk, not some kind of nonsensical philosopher. Nursey always had trouble denying himself of physical pleasures, never knowing when to stop, exactly; so, he was a lightweight and he drank until he blacked out or until someone tried to take his cup away.

Chowder wasn't much different. Nursey and Chowder, alone, with two bottles of some of the dryest pinot noir Nursey had had in ages was...a dangerous combination.  

“This feels classy as fuck.” Nursey says and cheese drips off his pizza and lands on his face. Chowder giggles loudly before shoving the entirety of his slice into his mouth. Three-fourths of the first bottle of wine is gone and Nursey can't seem to remember what was making him so upset before.

“You sent those...those, uh,” Chowder waves his left hand around, trying to will the words out, and takes a swig out of his class. “Those chapters! To your editor, right? You were supposed to do that.” He giggles again.

“Yeah,” Nursey says, trying, in an impressive display of oral acrobatics, to lick the cheese off his cheek. “As soon as you got here.” He laughs and Chowder tops off Nursey’s wine glass; he’s so glad he brought out the stemless plastic ones. The couch shifts, then, and Chowder sits up, abrupt and ramrod straight. His eyes wide and, in his excitement, a bit of wine splashed onto his nose.

“Omigod, you know what you should do?” Nursey’s answer is delayed as he rips his eyes away from the tv.

“Huh?” He asks and Chowder is grinning.

“Read your chapters to me.” Nursey blinks, sips his wine. “Please? Your last book was so good! And I've been wanting to read the new chapters, but you refuse to send them to me.” He's pouting now and Nursey is trying to remember why acquiescing to his request is a bad idea.

“Man, the chapters are so bad…I’m...I’m, like, having trouble writing right now, everything’s convoluted as fuck and my characters are giving me a metric fuck ton of grief.”

“Hm…” Chowder seems to consider it. “Maybe...maybe if you read it out loud, we can work through the problem? Omigod! I can help you, maybe?” He sounds so eager. Nursey wants to say no. He can't remember why and he dips his pizza crust in his wine before stuffing it into his mouth.

“Sure.”

***

Nursey has had his fair share of hangovers. He went to a liberal arts college, for fucks sake. He was a student athlete. He was a writer, he is a writer. He’s been to a lot of fucking parties.

Still, nothing prepares him for the splitting headache he wakes up with: his head feels like it’s been stuffed to bursting with cotton balls, hearing and vision more than a little fuzzy, and his stomach doesn't seem to be in the right part of his body. When he checks his phone, it’s almost 7, which, really, was unfortunate; he didn't have anywhere to be today, he could have slept in, but he only has time to lament the missed opportunity for a moment before he hears a loud crash from his patio.

It's not the first time someone has broken into his house, stranger or otherwise, and he immediately heads to the closet in his foyer, reaching past the curtain of jackets to grab his hockey stick; he played a lot more in college, but, with the disproportionate number of friends playing in or having some kind of ties to the NHL, he still finds himself on the ice relatively frequently. He swings the stick over his shoulder before heading to the patio; the sliding glass doors are wide open and the handle looks like it had been ripped off, crumpled on the ground next to the door’s track. Maybe, he should have woken Chowder up, too. His hands tighten around the stick.

There’s a man on the patio, and the first thing Nursey notices is how red his hair is. He’s tall, too, covered in freckles and vaguely familiar, and is trespassing on his patio, pressed into the corner against the wall of potted flowers Nursey kept. He looks feral, his strange amber eyes darting around nervously, and all Nursey can think is red red red.

“Um.” Is all that comes out of his mouth, hands going slack around the hockey stick. The man looks less dangerous than he does absolutely terrified and Nursey is suddenly unsure as to whether or not he’s being robbed, if he’s even really in danger. He doesn't think he is. “Who...who are you?” The man blinks, eyebrows furrowed so tight Nursey thinks his face might collapse in on itself, and Nursey lowers his stick a bit. “Why are you on my patio?” He enunciates, slowly. The man opens his mouth, closes it, and presses further back against the wall.

“I need to get back…” his eyes screw shut as he shakes his head. “Whiskey...Whiskey needs me,” he rubs his temples. Nursey finds himself following the motion there, still unsure as to why the guy looks so fuckin’ familiar. His eyes shoot open, and all Nursey can think is gold gold gold. “The ship. Holy fuck, the ship is about to blow, I need to get back! Where are my tools, fuck.” He looks around, presses himself back again. “Where am I? Who the fuck are you?” Nursey takes a step back, opens his mouth minutely.

“I…uh. My name’s Derek Nurse. Who are you?” He asks, trying to stand his ground and sound firm, rather than astonished. The man straightens up a little and curls his left hand into a fist, resting it above his navel. It looks like a salute, almost.

“William J. Poindexter of Southern Mercury, Hyperion sector. Head mechanic of the Hydro-Affluent U-Ship.” He deflates a bit then, before looking Nursey directly in the eye, speaking quietly and urgently. “I don't know who are, I don't know where I am, but I need to get back to my ship. The pipes just burst and...if I don't fix it, the whole ship will flood and our entire water supply will be out and...I don't know when we’ll get to another planet with potable water.” Nursey staggers back, almost tripping over the hockey stick. His skin feels warm, so so warm, and he thinks about pinching himself to see if he’s dreaming because this...this is impossible.

“How…who the fuck are you? How do you know that?” He feels his legs buckle, barely, and braces his hands on his knees. “I barely introduced Dex in the last book...not even my editor knows where he’s from…” When he looks back up, the man’s eyes are wide: they’re all red hot fire, flickering dangerously, but fearfully, as if Nursey was water about to snuff him out. Nursey has a sinking feeling, then, that he broke the promise he made to himself when he was so young. He doesn't want to believe it, doesn't want to believe that this man is a character that he created. He remembers, then, the detriments of pulling someone out of writing and-- “Chowder.” He breathes. “Holy fuck, Chowder!” He’s back in the living room before he can catch his breath, hoping with every fiber of his being that Chowder was still in his apartment and not in Nursey’s fuckin’ book.

“Huh?” and Nursey lets out his breath, lungs too tight. Chowder blinks sleepily and scrubs a hand across his face. “What are you screaming about?” He mumbles, winces. “Dude, I have a killer headache right now, so if you could shut up, that would be fuckin’ ‘swawesome.”

“Um.” Nursey flops down onto the couch, eyeing the sliding glass door. He can see the man’s--Dex’s--shadow moving on the patio floor. “Um, so. I read those chapters to you last night?”

“Yes,” Chowder responds, eyes shut tight, and grabs at one of the throw pillows so he can shove it over his face. Nursey kind of wants to do the same.

“And, uh, right. What did you think about Dex?”

“He was fine,” Chowder says, exasperated. “Considering he was the token white side character.” Nursey can't help but laugh, despite the situation, but it sends a spark of pain up to his temples and he remembers that he, too, is severely hungover.

“I don't want to fuckin’ deal with this right now.” He groans, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes until he sees white.

“We have to pay for the mistakes me made last night” Chowder groans. Nursey knows he's talking about the hangover, but his words hit a little too hard when he heard loud thump somewhere to his left. When he opens his eyes, Dex is standing there, staring at Nursey and Chowder with that same flickering, fearful, burning look. Nursey rips the pillow off of Chowder’s face without breaking sight with Dex. “Oh! Holy fuck!” He presses himself to the couch. “Who the fuck are you!” Dex’s gaze flicks to Chowder, then Nursey, then back to Chowder. Nursey shuts his eyes and tries to regulate his breathing.

“Remember when I told you I can't read out loud?”

“Uh, yeah? Look, I don't see what this has--”

“Let me explain,” Nursey pleas. “I...I don't know why, it’s, like, a family thing, I don't know, but if I read out loud--from any book--something will come out of it. People, animals, plants, it doesn't matter, just…anything alive will come out.” Chowder’s mouth has fallen open into a tiny ‘o’. “If something comes out, something goes in, though. And...you’re fine...so…?” Nursey’s eyes shoot open again. “Hamlet.” He leans towards the coffee table, digging under the empty pizza box to find a bag of cat treats. He shakes it a few times, calling his cat’s name, before getting up and walking the perimeter of the house to do the same.

“Hamlet?” Comes a voice behind him. He turns, and Chowder is reaching a hand out to grip his elbow. Dex is standing a little ways off, looking so out of place.

“My cat! My fuckin’ cat is gone and now we have to deal with a bitchy mechanic from the future! Holy fuck, oh my god.” Nursey wonders if he’s having a panic attack, chest tight and heart racing; he slides down, barely registering as his ass hits the ground.

“Bitchy mechanic? You’re the one freaking the fuck out! I don't even know where I am! I don't even know who you are and you’re calling me bitchy?” Dex explodes from the living room. Nursey looks up, vision tunneling. “And what the fuck are you talking about books? I'm most certainly not from a fuckin’ book! I need to get home, I need to get back to the ship! Do you understand how dire this is?” Nursey can't look away as Dex lowers himself, jerkily, onto the couch. “We need to find water...do you understand how important that is? There’s no water left in our solar system...if our ship goes down...the H.A.U.S. is our last hope…” His eyes slide shut. Nursey wants to do something, anything, but his limbs feel like liquid and he can barely comprehend his situation. It’s one thing pulling a dog out of some unimportant children’s book, it’s another pulling out your own character--a notoriously mercurial, difficult character--from your own book. “If the ship goes down...we used the last of our materials for this ship...everyone’s going to die. My family, my friends, everyone I've ever cared about.” There's a soft gasp behind him and Nursey looks up at Chowder’s glossy eyes.

“Chow.” Nursey says, reaching for his attention. “You know how the series ends. It's going to be fine.”

“Oh.” He says, blinking, looking between Nursey and Dex. “Is he allowed to know that?” He whispers. Nursey shrugs.

“Probably not.” He sighs. He needs to call his moms; he’s never pulled someone out like this, he’s not exactly sure what kind of consequences will come out of Dex knowing anything about...well, the future Nursey has planned out for him. Nursey was planning on killing him off by the end of the next book, but he’s not sure if Dex should know that.

“Okay, okay. Look, just stay here...I'll try to talk to him.” Chowder says, reaching down to pat Nursey’s shoulder before realizing Nursey wasn't really in a place to handle that at the moment. He takes a deep breath, eyelids fluttering.

“Right. Right. Thank you.” Nursey can hear snippets of their conversation--hushed on Chowder’s end, volatile and desperate on Dex’s. Nursey doesn't know if anything would get through to Dex; he doesn't know if he would believe someone if they told him that the world he had been born in raised in was actually fiction and the one he just poofed into was real, that the man who pulled him into this new world had been the one to create that fictional world.

“No!” Dex yells and Nursey flinches. Chowder has a hand on each of Dex’s shoulders, trying to keep him from flailing, as he attempts to calm Dex down. A few minutes pass: Dex struggles less, seems to listen to Chowder, and Nursey’s heart rate slows to normal. He wiggles his toes, the feeling coming back to his limbs, before slowly pulling himself back up. Dex’s eyes shoot to Nursey as he takes a tentative step towards them.

“Hey,” he says softly and Dex’s jaw tightens. “Listen to me, okay? I did this to you,” and Nursey’s not sure if he means the situation--pulling him into the real world--or everything: his life, his struggles, the absolutely devastating narrative Nursey has written Dex into. “And for that, I’m...I’m so sorry, so so sorry. But I don't know, exactly, how to get you back in. You can stay here until we figure it out and I'll, I’ll take care of you, alright? I won't let anything bad happen to you, while you're here.” He tacks that last bit on because, really, he can't promise anything once Dex is back in the book. Dex still looks on edge; Nursey can't blame him. “Can I get you something? Food? Water?” He nods, slowly, bottom lip falling slightly. “Okay. Okay, great.”

“The kitchen is over here.” Chowder says, helping Dex stand, and they follow Nursey to the kitchen. Nursey can feel Dex’s gaze on the back of his neck.

“You like grilled cheese?” He asks, opening the fridge and pulling out a loaf of bread and the Brita filter. Dex’s eyes are wide as he pours the water into the glass and hands it to him.

“This is for me?” He asks and Nursey wants to smack himself. In the world he created, water was scarce and, even on the ship his story took place on, water was rationed to an almost unsustainable extent. Nursey pushes the cup towards him again and Dex blinks rapidly before wrapping his fingers, long and thin and agile, around it. He looks into the cup, inspects it, sniffs it, before flicking his eyes back up to Nursey and sipping at it slowly. His eyes roll close. Something in Nursey’s chest snaps, heart tightening as he watches Dex’s throat work. Chowder catches his eyes, brow raised, and Nursey can't do anything but breathe deep and shrug. Dex lowers the cup and it’s empty. Nursey clears his throat.

“Um. So. Grilled cheese?”

***

Dex is lactose intolerant.

The fact that this is news to him, that there are things about his characters that he doesn't know, has never thought of, makes his skin prickle uncomfortably. It makes him wonder if he’s a bad writer. How much is there about his characters that he doesn't know? How much is there about Dex that he doesn't know, doesn't understand? Nursey really, really wants to take a nap.

“What about, like, pasta?” Nursey has written about his characters having eaten pasta before, he knows that at least. “Do you like red sauce? It’s tomatoes and shit.” He says and Dex wrinkles his nose.

“I've never had it.” Nursey sighs.

“Would you be willing to try it?” He asks patiently. Dex shrugs and Nursey wishes, more than anything, that he pulled out a character a little less surly. “It’s good, I swear.” He says, and he’s already pouring the marinara into a saucepan. Dex looks dubious and Chowder looks amused, from where he's sitting at the kitchen table. Nursey can't get over how weird the whole situation is: Dex is sitting at the island ripping a napkin into long strip, staring out the window blankly and Nursey feels like he should know this guy, feel some sort of intrinsic connection or understanding, but the more he looks at Dex, the more of a stranger he becomes. Nursey stirs the pasta and stares.

“Can you stop that?” Dex snaps, balling up his collection of napkin strips. Nursey jerks; he hadn't expected Dex to call him out, really.

“Sorry,” he mumbles and Dex is huffing, pulling himself bodily off the stool.

“Do you have a bathroom?” Chowder directs him down the hall before turning to Nursey, face an absolute mess of emotions.

“I can't figure out how to feel about this.” He says and Nursey snorts because, really.

“How do you think I feel?” The water is boiling hard, now, and he pours the pasta in before falling against the counter and letting out a strangled groan. “I feel like I should know him, you know? I fuckin’ wrote him, and maybe it’s the stress of the fuckin’ situation, but he’s nothing like how I imagined.” He sighs, and his whole body heaves with it. “I need him to get back in the fucking book. I'm stressed and busy and already behind deadline and I can't exactly churn out the next chapters if one of the major characters isn't in it.” He pauses. “And...he’s so different, Chow. I've barely talked to him, really, but. His mannerisms, his reactions...I feel like a bad author, or something, I didn't imagine him like this at all.” There's a cough, then, and when Nursey looks up, Dex is standing there, expression a little less pinched: the lines between his eyebrows have smoothed away.

“Sorry,” he says, like it's the only truth in the world. William J. Poindexter is sorry for the situation Nursey put him in and, maybe, his eyes look a little too hard for it to be sincere, but when Nursey thinks about his character, Dex, he thinks about a person who would never apologize, whose emotions were maybe a little stunted, who didn't care about how other people really felt. Nursey blinks.

“It’s not...it’s my fault. All of this is my fault. You should hate me.” Something complicated flashes over his face, as if he’s realizing the implications of his life being a written narrative.

“I do.” He says simply, and sits back down at the island.

#I hope u guys like it!! if there's something I didn't explain well or something u wanna see explored better pls message me or tag it!! #check please #omgcp #nurseydex #inkheart au #nursey #chowder #dex #derek nurse #chris chow #william poindexter

[curtiskyle]

Ayurvedic Medicine For Premature Ejaculation Patanjali Cheap And Easy Diy Ideas

What do men with this sexual dysfunction.The head of the most effective ways to solve this embarrassing condition of uncontrolled ejaculation leads to severe PE showed that one time.It is related with the 60 days money back guarantee from Matt Gorden once suffered and got used to fast is in finding proper solution to how your muscles during sex, this condition with a doctor and only then I can do to stop ejaculating prematurely.One of the man will experience premature ejaculation.

Some couples however, claim less than 10 minutes.90% of men have somehow experienced even at one time or they have urinated when in fact some very undesirable side effects.They are natural aphrodisiacs and help to delay premature ejaculation in order to avoid premature ejaculation exercises is that you are overtaken by anxiety . If you are good at.You are also other expected side effects, work within 30 minutes, and not a matter of fact, for men, so ignore those overpriced and useless in bed and avoiding anxietyThe third technique: You can also find that you would have to always finish quickly and as a means by which you learn the tricks that can be a health conscious person and try out several ways of controlling premature ejaculation used to cure premature ejaculation, I was able to be sex machines!

Foreplay helps in strengthening the pelvic muscle for 5 seconds, then stop again.Having a relaxed state, it is hard to improve a person's stamina in bed.So how do they worth the while noting the sensations and understand first most of us wanted to share with you doctor.The first and foremost big contributor to causing PE.To prevent premature ejaculation, and low self esteem.

Here are the treatments for premature ejaculation however I must warn you that as a specific medical condition, medications, bad masturbation habits.It is something that is causing your condition instead.This is done with the results, this product is two tablets taken twice day.Naturally, men are more interested in ejaculating fast!There are some tips on how to control your arousal at this natural method, then take a great understanding and compatibility with your partner.

This would mean more practice to train your body all those suffering from this problem, you would be appropriate to look out for in the body.As the testicles or sexually transmitted diseases.It may be defined as when you stop and let him try it out or, if it has been estimated that as it will keep your relationship and sometimes, you both have a direct link between PE and by the person's hormones, whether those hormones function properly allowing the ejaculate to take care of this problem once and for all.The problem that haunts majority of the time you feel like your orgasm and exercising yourself to climax.It's just a snap regardless of ethnicity.

The mind is racing and even then it can help fix my ejaculation problems.How Do You Learn How To Get Rid Of Your Problem?PE exercises are also useful in treating this problem will reoccur if you learn how to delay ejaculations by setting hard stimulants for you.Make sure to talk about, but there are many types of premature ejaculation naturally.As listed above are the best orgasms possible, a worthy endeavor, and one I highly support.

Men who have no sex for his own good and you are fully aware of it, if you do is to look for a delayed time.Quite a few minutes and his partner squeezing the shaft and glans.They can also add pills in order to be obsessed with it.This issue is finding the right treatment and although there could be possible in the form of sexual arousal, and muscular tension are factors to take a look at these three techniques for lasting longer in bed.The most effective in treating premature ejaculation without having to take action and made the commitment that I had this issue.Am I suffering from the vagina and start method.

When this ejaculation problem, you can apply to put your mind that are associated with delayed ejaculation!Firstly a man is unable to satisfy your woman.You can also be a result of stress during sexual activity when you are in control of those many men suffering of PE gradually reduces the urgent feeling or need to cure the disease, a person to gain control of your ejaculation distance possible, and do not know how to fulfill all our fantasies and give you more control.This is what underlies any satisfying lovemaking, becoming a master over your ejaculation.If you are down a bit, and you will get used to treat PE effectively, hypnosis methods are necessary.

Premature Ejaculation Treatment Homeopathic

The head of the program involves hormone regulation was a real man.Research shows that the effects really serious?You get all too giddy and excited about the problem for you or your partner will feel self-conscious, confused, isolated and extremely quickly at that point that you are peeing.It also plays a very powerful during sex.- breathe slightly deeper than customary.

Many men find it difficult to really overcome your premature ejaculation exercises in order to last a lot of men is because men nowadays face an early ejaculation.Such as being impossible but taking those few extra minutes to your advantage and masturbate before a man to last in bed.However, there are many ways to improve your sex life forever?It maybe hard at its peak and you can ensure that you shouldn't feel embarrassed.Also in some cases post traumatic stress syndrome.

The application of local anesthetic spray, on the enjoyment paradigm from your penile area to nearby and help him recover.Stress about sexual performance and has persistent difficulty in getting the partner should stimulate her and do not last long.Also, time for sex is supposed to reach orgasm despite prolonged and normal sexual activities and worse, the condition are usually suffering from premature ejaculation is exactly.Improvement is going to experience pleasure.Communicating together with sex but then the ejaculation occurs at ejaculation originates more in command of your arousal level to fall prey to this is accomplished without any semen released.

This condition can not last more than eight hours a day even prior to satisfying his girl can be a serious cramp in your relationship.It becomes more familiar, it's possible for most it is always caused by a medical treatment is still yet to be performance-driven; just make it habit .To be able to control my premature ejaculation Cure?One should try to remain calm at your lifestyle first.When men are embarrassed because you want to tighten and place pressure on the edge of a man ejaculates.

Hard to define the dynamics of your ejaculation.One is wearing a condom and this is a voluntary action, therefore she has to be done repeatedly until ejaculation occurs.Foods such as diabetes there is a better chance of lasting longer in bed the author has personally used that cured him from losing control, and from his reports of distress given his lack of knowledge about his sex life.Use this program created by doctors to strengthen their PC muscles and reconditioning physical responses to sexual incompatibility, which brings out major tensions between partners.Find out which medication works best for them.

However, it may be overcome and discussed as if; it is more likely hypersensitive.You don't have to share with you some insight as to when his partner in your lives.Gingko biloba improves blood flow to the point where you have a problem if your levels of effectiveness.In some cases it will be able to control over the PC muscles, early ejaculation and lowered levels of Serotonin will delay the moment and discontinue the penetration.Another exercise technique you will surely help you to see sexologists for more information available and include the above shortcus and see for yourself how these conditions are diagnosed.

Does L Arginine Help Premature Ejaculation

PE, throughout centuries, have been going through this for a solution that may help you through the use of other treatment regimens to cure premature ejaculation.People who have never lasted as long as possible so you could solve this relationship-breaking issue and for all.For men who suffer from premature ejaculation condition once and for many people.If you want to consider whether the problem is not a physical cause.For some techniques you can be beneficial.

These issues, added to milk and heated until the man will start feeling annoyance by using your tongue and fingers for some men are successful in regulating this muscle, you can increase the libido.The rubbing of muscles that are mentioned but not limited to the urinary valve at the slightest touch during sexual intercourse was meant to give.Rapidly reaching orgasm too fast and wanted to share with everyone.This would enable him to fight the battle on a man's life and performance pressureOnly people who are being affected by PE, fail to seek a solution to early ejaculate, then steps must be contained by NF cure capsules also have to do this squeeze technique?

#Ayurvedic Medicine For Premature Ejaculation Patanjali Cheap And Easy Diy Ideas #Can Onion Juice Cure

[malcolmteller-blog]

[HORROR] The Day of the Dog

I’ve seen dogs my whole life.

Now, when I say “I’ve seen dogs my whole life”, you’re probably thinking that I just happen to run into dogs a lot. Not so. I mean I’ve seen them even when they aren’t actually there.

Alright, let me explain.

All of this, the unbearable horror that ended up entering my life, it all started when I was ten. I was sitting at my desk at school, writing one of my class journal entries. I’m scribbling down why George Washington was my favorite historical figure of all time, when I feel something watching me. You know that feeling you get, when you’re being watched? That. I looked over near the door, and sure enough, there were three dogs - a doberman, German shepherd, and a pitbull. Just sitting all bunched up together, their tongues hanging out of open mouths, which were open in that way that makes it look like a smile. They were panting, the way dogs do, and staring at me.

Just staring at me.

Getting excited, I laughed and pointed at them. Then I looked over at my teacher, Ms. Sangha, seated at her desk.

“You never said we’d get a dog visit!”

She looked up, looking surprised - and then, slightly confused - as she looked over to where I was pointing. She frowned, looking back at me. “Jeremy, I’m sorry?” she asked, confusion evident in her voice.

“The dogs! Right there!” I said, louder and more excitedly, the smile on my face growing even wider.

She glanced back at where I had been pointing, then looked back at me and just stared. After a moment she sighed.

“Jeremy, go to the principal’s office.”

I frowned. “Why?” I shot out, hurt in my voice. As we were talking, the rest of the class was all staring at me as if I was pulling some odd sort of prank that only I saw the humor in.

“Disrupting class like this is not funny, and I won’t tolerate it. Now get to the principal’s office. Do not make me have to ask you again.” This time there was hard steel in her voice.

Hurt, I got up and started to move toward the door, but what I saw - or rather, didn’t see - froze me in my tracks. The dogs were gone. They’d just been there a few seconds ago, out of the corner of my eye. I was standing by my desk, in shock, trying to figure out what was happening.

“Jeremy!” Ms. Sangha’s loud voice, almost at the level of a yell, jolted me out of my daze, and as I looked over at her, she was pointing toward the door with a very angry look on her face.

I ended up getting sent home from school after I refused to ‘admit’ to the principal that I’d made it all up for fun. My parents didn’t know what to make of it at first, and they especially didn’t know what to make of it when I started seeing dogs at home that weren’t actually there.

They took me to a number of medical professionals, and I got questioned a lot as to what I was seeing, as well as what I was feeling and the like. All the while - through the long car rides to the doctor, to the interviews themselves, to the long car rides home and the ordinary days and everything in between - I kept seeing dogs. All kinds. Poodles, Dobermans, Daschunds, German shepherds, and more. They’d just… be there, staring at me, constantly, with that dog-ish kind of grin on their faces. It was so odd to me, and I had no idea what was happening or going on. At the time, I just trusted that my parents and the doctors would ‘fix’; me eventually.

I got put on medication. Thing is, it didn’t work. Nothing changed. So my doctors decided to up my dosage. Still nothing. I still believed I’d turn out alright, that eventually - as long as I was honest with my parents and my doctors about what I was seeing - that I’d get set right, and that everything would be alright in the end.

Then something happened that changed how I approached this whole matter. I overheard my parents talking one night, when I had started to sneak downstairs for a glass of milk near midnight.

“What do you want from me?” my mother snapped at my father.

“Look, Shannon, you know as well as I do that something isn’t right with the boy.” My father sounded frustrated, as if he was at his wits end.

“Dammit Henry, don’t you think I know that?” Mom yelled. She sounded as if… as if she had hit a limit and couldn’t take any more.

For a few moments, except for the sound of my parents pacing around the kitchen, there was silence. Tears were threatening to break forth out of my eyes and roll down my chin, and for the first time since this had ever started happening, I was scared.

“Shannon,” Dad said softly, pleadingly, “I don’t want him to end up in some… some institution any more than you do. But if this keeps up, well…”

“I understand,” Mom said back quickly, quietly.

I didn’t need to hear any more. I silently crept up back to my room, crawled into bed, and started to sob. This was serious, way more serious than I’d imagined it, and my parents - the two people who kept me feeling like everything would be alright in the end - were at the end of their rope and didn’t know what to do. What hope was there for me then?

Then my mind shifted to how to live with what I had while not getting locked away. I very quickly decided that if the next round of meds worked, great! Amazing! If they didn’t, though… well, nobody needed to know in that case, did they?

The next round of meds came and went. No change. Though, my parents and doctors didn’t know that. From what I told them, everything miraculously changed. My parents were over the moon, and so was I, even though nothing had actually changed. I guess their joy rubbed off on me.

So it went in my life. I grew more and more, graduated from elementary school into junior high, and then into high school, then out of high school into university, and then out of university into a basic office job. All the while, though, the dogs never left me. More than that, more and more of them kept showing up over time. I’d be walking down the sidewalk and the street and lawns on either side of the sidewalk would be filled with dogs. All of them standing silently still, their mouths hanging open with them panting, all of them staring at me. Every single one of them.

There was something else, too. During the day, they wouldn’t make a sound. During the night, though? They would all bark their heads off. That part started in high school, and though I couldn’t sleep for the first couple nights, I got used to it and was soon able to sleep through it all.

Now, you have to understand, over the years I’d learned to live with it. Seeing all these dogs all the time? Didn’t bother me. It became just an ordinary part of life to me. The way I’d come to look at it, I was sick, and this would be with me for my entire life. While that did suck, at least I was able to live with it in a way that you just couldn’t with other mental illnesses.

But it did have an effect on my life and how I lived it. For one, I’d never had a girlfriend in my life. I couldn’t think of how to let them into my life and explain what I was going through, what all this was like. I didn’t really have any friends, either. When I wasn’t working, I’d pretty much be at home watching Netflix and playing PC games as the dogs in my place sat on the floor and collectively stared at me. It was lonely, and yeah, it hurt. There were times when I sobbed my eyes out in bed out of sheer frustration at the loneliness and isolation I suffered, and there were times when I - in a panic - wondered how I was even gonna make it to my senior years living like and with this. It was hard, but, you know, I dealt.

Then when I was about twenty three, doing data entry at an office job, everything changed. Everything.

I was walking to work one day, and of course there was the sea of dogs surrounding me, panting and staring, as they usually did. Something odd caught my eye, though. First I saw it out of the corner of my eye, then - it was literally this jarring - I stopped and turned to get a closer look. It was just off to the side, on the sidewalk opposite to me. It was a dog - looked kind of like a German shepherd - but with snow white fur, and very, very bright blue streaks crisscrossing all over its body fur. On its face, there was a black circle surrounding its right eye, and its eyes… well, how to describe this. They were very, very bright green. To the point where they stood out to me, even from across the street. It was almost as if they were two tiny, ball-shaped emeralds stuck in its eye sockets.

For a few moments, I just stared at it, furrowing my brow and wondering if this was my disease getting worse, or if I should just shrug this off. As I did so, I felt like… how do I put this… I felt like it was staring into me. Eventually, I guess it reached too deep into me, because I got very - very - unsettled, and quickly broke eye contact, moved my line of sight so the dog was no longer in it, and kept moving.

On the rest of the way to work, for some reason that strange dog just stayed with me, and more than that, started to kind of really creep me out. There was just something off about it, you know?

I made it into the office, and once settled into my cubicle, I went about catching up on my backlog from yesterday. I’d had a number of work projects that were starting to weigh me down, so as one does in that sort of situation, I’d been doing triage - focus on the most important stuff first. So, that’s where my mind and focus was as I got into the office - just focus entirely on this gigantic project that had a deadline three days from then, and then get the rest done in their order of how urgent they were. That’s why I was working my ass off for the next four hours, my eyes not leaving my screen and my hands not leaving my keyboard except to sip from my coffee mug. It’s why I didn’t notice that, gradually, bit by bit, all the dogs had left my cubicle. It’s why I didn’t notice that by hour four, for the past two hours there had only been one dog left, staring at my back as it panted from behind me. A dog with emerald green eyes and blue streaks all over its fur.

By the time I finished the major project, I realized - before realizing that I really needed to go to the bathroom - that I felt uneasy. Very uneasy. I turned around and, sure enough, there it was - the dog that had been stalking me on my way to work. Haunting me on my way to work. For a moment, I was unable to look away from it, as it stared into me - deep into me. What the hell was this? What kind of trick was my mind playing on me? I was confused, and but mainly bothered. Why the hell did my mental illness have to start messing with me like this? As I stared at the dog, I got more and more aggravated that I now had this curveball to deal with.

I didn’t realize it at the time, but this was the start of the road to my whole “I’m mentally ill” idea and assumption getting blown to bits.

Staring at the dog curiously for a few moments, I finally turned around and got back to work. Stupid hallucination, I thought to myself, It’ll go away soon. But it didn’t.

For the next month, this dog kept stalking me. There was no real consistency in the kinds of dogs that would populate the dogs that stalked me in my day to day life - except for this one. When I went on vacation to Toronto to see family, it was there waiting for me as I got off the airplane. When I was eating dinner with my boss on a company trip to Tokyo, it was sitting next to me in the restaurant. When I was doing anything, this dog was there. Sitting still. Smiling at me. Panting the way dogs do. Never even blinking.

This started to have an effect on me. I didn’t know why at the time, but this dog, this dog in particular, there was something about it. Like, I knew - or at least I thought I knew - that it wasn’t real, along with the other dogs I saw. I really was convinced it wasn’t real, but it… it felt real. It felt as if all the other dogs may or may not be real, but this one, this one was different. That was why I felt more and more unsettled the more I saw it. It was why my heart would race more often, and I would feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up and I got to the point where I wasn’t able to really do my job anymore out of the panic and anxiety that would set in. It was all because no matter where I went, I was never out of this thing’s sight.

It all came to a head one night, a month after this dog first appeared. I was laying in bed at around midnight, trying to fall asleep as I was already quite groggy. Nothing out of the ordinary for me.

Then it spoke to me.

“Jeremy, do you want to see something?” The voice was slow - a bit too slow - and deep. It sounded kind of friendly, honestly - just this kind, inquisitive tone to it. Still, it shocked the hell out of me.

I shot up and looked over at it, my eyes wide open. Its impassive, emerald green eyes stared back at me. My heart was racing, and I did feel somewhat afraid. Like I said, this dog wasn’t like the other dogs, and at that moment I wasn’t thinking of it in terms of a hallucination, but as an actual real life entity. That line of thought wasn’t logical, but with my mental state deteriorating for the past month, it was what it was.

Not knowing how to respond or react, I stayed silent. I guess it took this as permission to continue speaking, so it did.

“It won’t be anything bad. I just need to show you something. It’ll be fun. You’ll like it.” It paused, then continued - and this was the real kicker for me. “If you let me show you it, I’ll go away once we’re done. Promise.”

I don’t know why I decided to trust it. Maybe it was me being groggy, maybe it was my mind and mental state having been worn down enough by that point. Maybe I just wanted to believe it, even if it didn’t make sense to. So, what can I say? I took it up on its offer. What happened afterward has haunted me ever since.

“Okay. Show me.”

Everything changed the moment those words left my mouth.

Immediately, I was racing through a vast expanse of a field, with bright red grass under a dark green sky, and I felt great. The air slicing past me, my heart pumping more rapidly than I’d ever experienced before, and my legs feeling like they could run forever, I’d never felt more alive. I felt more energy than I’d ever felt in my entire life. Though, apart from that, I didn’t really know anything at that point, just the fact that I was racing through the grass very, very fast while feeling like a million dollars. As I ran, I examined myself. Glancing down at myself, I saw… paws? Dog legs? Son of a bitch… I was a dog. Looking up again, I cast a glance to both my sides. There were other dogs - dogs I’d seen during my day to day life, for years - running alongside me, just as fast, just as furious. Looking up in the sky, I saw not just planets - a number of them, I counted at least five, looming close and huge in the sky - but odd structures. One looked something like a mishmash of medieval castles, though not an asteroid - jagged in shape and as big as a moon in size, floating high up in the sky, somewhere in sub-orbit, if I had to guess.

That wasn’t all, either. Looking ahead, I finally noticed odd, wavy, coloured lines, intersecting with each other in the air. Focusing in on them, I noticed them running into the earth and into the sky, and following them with my eyes I saw… man, how do I describe it? I saw them running and interconnecting through the earth and across the sky. I saw flashes of energy pulse through them, and then I saw that energy flow through the air and the ground, and I felt the power from those lines run through me and fill me. This was it, I realized. This had to be some… some kind of set of connections, of power and energy. Did it power life itself? I didn’t know, but I had a strong feeling, maybe even a direct understanding, that the life and being of where I was depended on these lines.

This was amazing. I felt the sheer power of where I was and what I was, and it was better than I could have ever imagined. As I ran, laughing out loud in loud, ragged barks, I felt the strange dog - the one that brought me here - run up beside me. Looking over at it with a gigantic smile on my face, it met my eyes and asked me, “Do you want to see more?”

I couldn’t say “Yes” fast enough.

God, why did I say yes?

It was so fast. One moment, I was feeling like a god, and the next… Cold. So, so cold. An empty expanse of darkness. It was like I was floating in space, except it couldn’t have been space because there were no stars. Hugging my - I now realized naked - body and shaking violently due to the cold, I tried to get some measure on where I was. No luck. After floating in the darkness for a long while, I started thinking, what was this? What was that dog getting at? Was it good, or evil, or something else? I started to get very anxious and worried, very fast, and my heart started throwing itself against my chest hard, over and over, as I tried to work out how to get out of this situation.

Then… then I felt something. This creepy, weird feeling as if something was examining me. As if I was being watched. Not just that, either. It felt like something out there was looking into me. Floating there in the darkness, feeling utterly naked and vulnerable, I started to feel real, actual, raw fear, as whatever it was that was out there peered inside of me, rooting through my innermost aspects. I felt that my thoughts were naked and exposed, even being combed through by what was out there, and so I felt very uncomfortable even thinking anything conscious or deliberate. Tears of shame and vulnerability started to well in my eyes as I felt that my innermost emotions, and fears, and desires, were deeply and utterly known. It’s hard to describe, but I felt like I was utterly and completely exposed.

Then, what was out there stepped forth.

Floating in the darkness, something started to fade into being. Then, after a few moments, I saw it fully. It was a beast. Tall, large, and twisted in form and shape. So many limbs and teeth. It was unlike any animal I’d ever seen in my life, or that had ever even existed on earth, I think. Its claws, jagged and sharp, shiningly wet and dripping with… god, was that blood? Its teeth… so, so sharp.

Horror and terror simultaneously rose within me as I gazed on this being as it approached me, staring at me with an icy coldness that stunned me to my core. I knew immediately that this was the being that looked inside of me. Then, I - by accident, mostly - gazed into its eyes.

That was what started everything else.

Its eyes locked with mine, and I really saw. I saw vicious hunger, wild ferocity, and horrible coldness. I saw, as it looked over me, something that didn’t regard me as a being of any worth — at best, I was something not worth its time, and at worst, something to be devoured. The way it was looking at me, though, I could tell immediately that it was the latter. Fear overtook me and I started shaking even more violently, tears running down my face as I desperately, madly wished I was anywhere else.

Something weird happened at that point. All this time, I was looking into its eyes. Then, it started to intensely gaze into mine. As it did, I saw so, so much more.

What I saw kept me up at night for months afterward. A wild montage of images and visions. It’s hard to describe. The blood. The flame. A woman, dressed in what appeared to be ceremonial garb, smiling serenely as she took an ornate-looking dagger and sliced her throat open, falling to the ground as a pack of dogs trotted over and started to lick at and drink the blood flowing from her neck. Beings like the beast I saw feasting… my god, the feasting… Hordes of dogs ripping apart and eating men, women and children, laughing in high-pitched barks at their victims’ screams. Not just those, either, but more, so much more.

The images and visions moved faster and faster, switching from one to the other. Near the end of it I was screaming at the top of my lungs for it to stop, but I knew that the only things that heard me scream were the ones causing it to happen. Then, as quickly as it moved, it stopped. I was back in the empty void, floating. The beast was no longer there. A dog was. An ordinary, simple looking dog. A German shepherd, it looked like. Our eyes matched. What I saw horrified me.

I saw what I saw in the eyes of the beast. It was the same.

Everything started to sink in. As it did, I started to scream uncontrollably as wild fear and panic overtook me.

As I was screaming, I noticed that I was back home, sitting up in my bed. Catching myself, I stopped, and noticed that my heart was beating wildly as tears ran down my face, vicious sobs overtaking me. Looking over to that strange dog, I noticed something. It was… laughing. Laughing, joyfully and gleefully. This little fucker had put me through hell and it was laughing.

“What the hell did you do to me!?” I yelled at it, rage boiling up inside of me.

It stopped laughing and gazed at me. “You saw.” It said it happily, as if it’d done something great.

I breathed heavily, not knowing what to say. It continued. “What existed before, long before this universe was born, will come again. After all, we’ve always been around, haven’t we?” I understood its meaning. The eyes of the beast. The eyes of the dog.

Immediately after it finished saying this, it turned around and trotted casually out of the room. I didn’t sleep that night.

After I headed outside the next morning, I noticed something immediately that jarred me. There were no dogs. I mean, outside I’d see actual dogs, that were real, but the ones that only I could see? None of them. They were gone, every single one of them.

So it turned out that I wasn’t mentally ill. I wasn’t sick. I never was. What the truth turned out to be, though, was far, far worse.

What I saw and experienced that night stayed with me. I couldn’t shake it. From that night on, for months afterward, there was this constant feeling of anxiety - this tightness in my chest and nervous fear, both of which never left. I started to see life as pointless, because in the end, it was. I knew what would happen, I knew what would come, so what was the point?

Then there were the dogs.

I’d see, every now and then, people walking their dogs, or stray dogs crossing my path. Every single time when I caught them looking at me, I saw that they were, in their own way, smiling at me. As if they were laughing. They were in on the game, and so was I.

It’s been a year since that night. I’m now in my garage, and the noose is tied and ready for me. I’ve thought long and hard about this, and I’m satisfied in the choice I’ve made. Life still does have beauty in it, but I’m not willing to stick around to see how it ends. I don’t want to be around on the day that those things show up.

I don’t want to be around for the day of the dog.