GIRL IS A GUN !

#𝒎⃨𝒆⃨𝒓⃨𝒄⃨𝒖⃨𝒆⃨𝒓⃨𝒊⃨𝒂⃨𝒍⃨        ...       SYDNEY  NOVAK     from i am not okay with this with borrowed lore from stephen king’s doctor sleep.     read rules before interacting.

✩    𝒕⃨𝒉⃨𝒆⃨ 𝒆⃨𝒗⃨𝒆⃨𝒏⃨𝒕⃨ 𝒉⃨𝒐⃨𝒓⃨𝒊⃨𝒛⃨𝒐⃨𝒏⃨     :       you are the sun in reverse,       all energy flows into you and is abolished;      you refuse houses,      you smell of catastrophe ...

𝒂⃨ 𝒔⃨𝒕⃨𝒖⃨𝒅⃨𝒚⃨      in generational trauma,      grief,      and the subversion of the american dream trope.      heavy elements of gothic horror,      gore,      and black comedy.

est august 2020.    𝒃⃨𝒚⃨ 𝒄⃨𝒂⃨𝒓⃨𝒎⃨𝒆⃨𝒏⃨    ( black,  she  /  her,  24 ).    selective, private, low activity.

            there’s something off about this girl. nothing theodore can feel,  with his silly mortal mind, but the entity attached to him tugs away to look at her, extends a sharp, bony finger to poke———hopeful its wave of paranoia might give her a start.    teddy, meanwhile, none the wiser, finds himself sounding like an old man,      ❛  staying out of trouble i hope, kid  ?  ❜      mind in too much of a haze to process the fact that he’s seen her before, said something stupid and old-man-like then, too.        /        @mercuerial​​liked !

     *     what  the  fuck  was  that    ?        i don’t think i’ve ever flinched so hard in my life:        my body jerks paired with a heavy blink.        fingertips rush to the aid of the button of my nose      -      where just a second before something thorn -  like had pricked it;        the hairs at the nape of my neck to stand upright.      ❛   yeah  ,  uh  huh  ,   ❜    i  say. 

‘ IN  SOME  PHSYCHOSEXUAL  MASTURBATORY  WAY,  OBVIOUSLY.  not  that  i  wanted  to  bring  that  up.  jeez,  is  your  mind  always  this  deep  in  the  gutter? ’     he  hovers,  like  he’s  forgetting  something.  when…OH  YEAH!     ‘ and  i’ve  plenty  of  people  who  would  advocate  for  me,  actually.  my  mum,  for  one.  and  my  dad  would  —  well,  no,  i  guess  no - NEVER  MIND!  plenty  of  people,  you  don’t  know  them.  what,  like  you  have  a  hype  squad  in  your  back  pocket? ’

   *      ❛     yeah  ,  it’s  called  having  friends.     ❜       my smile disappears just as fast as it had come.       i roll my eyes       ,       jam my hands in my pockets.        one booted ankle crossed over the other.       he’s   psycho - something  ,  alright ,        i think.        in the split of a second        ,        i can see a flurry of faces whir through his mind;        each one passing by so quickly that i can only make out large blotches that make up eyes and a mouth        ,        only the contours really changing.        a slick murmur of names names pass by in his irish lilt        ,        and not one is said aloud;        my  teeth  make  their  second  appearance.

‘ devil’s  advocate  is  always  best  position  to  play.  all  you  have  to  do  is  say  the  opposite  of  whatever  the  other  person  just  said  and  BAM,  you’re  sorted  for  the  rest  of  the  conversation.  i  do  it  all  the  time. ’

@mercuerial     *

  *      ❛     how  can  you  play  devil’s  advocate  when  you  are  the  devil  ,  huh   ?     ❜       my mouth splits open and divulges the slight glimmer of teeth.

TWO          DIGITS          FLICK          AWAY            HER          PENCIL,              ˢᶜʳᵘᶰᶜʰᶤᶰᵍ          ᵘᵖ          ʰᵉʳ         ᶰᵒˢᵉ          ᵗᵒ          ᶤᶰᵈᶤᶜᵃᵗᵉ           ˢᵒᵐᵉʷʰᵃᵗ            ᵒᶠ            ᵃ          ʳᵉˢᵖᵒᶰˢᵉˑ               ᵛᵉˡᵛᵉᵗˢ            ᵗʷᶤᵗᶜʰ            ᵃᵗ          ᵗʰᵉᶤʳ          ᶜᵒʳᶰᵉʳˢ ˒              ᵃˡᵐᵒˢᵗ          ᵃˢ          ᶤᶠ           ˢʰᵉ’ˢ          ʰᵒˡᵈᶤᶰᵍ          ᵇᵃᶜᵏ          ᵃ          ˢᵐᶤˡᵉ            …                                  [      “      YOU          DON’T          HAVE          TO          HOLD          BACK.      ”      ]                  ᶤᶰ          ᵃˡˡ          ˢᶤᵗᵘᵃᵗᶤᵒᶰˢ ˒               ᵗʰᵉ          demon’s          ᶤᶰ          ᶜᵒᶰᵗʳᵒˡˑ

ˢʰᵉ         ʰᵉˢᶤᵗᵃᶰᵗˡʸ          ᵃˡˡᵒʷˢ            ᵗʰᵉ            ˢᵐᶤˡᵉ            ᵗᵒ            ᵇʳᵉᵃᵏ           ᵗʰʳᵒᵘᵍʰ ˒                ᵛᵒᶤᶜᵉ          ᶤᶰ           ʰᵉʳ          ʰᵉᵃᵈ          ʷʰᶤˢᵖᵉʳᶤᶰᵍ          :                YOU’RE          RIGHT,              ᶤ          do          ʷᶤˢʰˑ                ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ’ˢ          ᵃ          ˢᶰᵃʳˡ ˒             ᵗᵒᶰᵉ          ᶠᵘˡˡ          ᵒᶠ          ˢᵖᶤᵗᵉ;              ᵗʰᵉ          ᶻᵒᵐᵇᶤᵗᶜʰ          ᵍʳᶤᵗˢ           ᵗᵉᵉᵗʰˑ                   ❛          ᵒᶰˡʸ          ᵗʰᶤᶰᵍ          ᵒᶠ          ᵐᶤᶰᵉ            ʸᵒᵘ           can          ᵗᵒᵘᶜʰˑ              what’s          up          with          your          face?              ʸᵒᵘ          ᵏᶰᵒʷ ˒              ᵇᵉˢᶤᵈᵉˢ          ᵗʰᵉ          ᵒᵇᵛᶤᵒᵘˢ          ˢᵘʳᶠᵃᶜᵉ           ᶠˡᵃʷˢˑ         ❜

    *      ❛     um.     ❜       suddenly i’m reminded of the gaping lacuna between my eyes       ,       the infantile roundness of my cheeks       ,       the perpetual frown burned into face.     i recede into my hair       ,      relieving  her  of  the  sight  of  my  ugly  mug. 

‘ you  stepped  on  my  foot. ’                /   @mercuerial​

*         ❛     oh.     ❜       i shrug       ,       ❛    my  bad.     ❜        i take a look a my boots      ,       lean forward to check them out as if i hadn’t gotten a good look at them in a real long time.      time is beginning to take its toll;      they’ve become weathered:      deep creases cu into the leather      ,      a  few bruises in the shape of scuffs      ,      and aglets all but gone.