watch it spin like that

"--and so i start to do my bloody mary number, right?-- blood red sequins 'n all, when this dude passes out in the front row. and i mean pale as a fuckin' ghost, eyes glaze over and then BOOM! out cold," a perfectly manicured nail (pink and black and sharp this month!) darted out to grab a french fry, tossing it into her mouth without skipping a beat. there was the tiniest bit of schadenfreude in the retelling, evident in the wry smile appearing on her face, but she at least tried to maintain a semi-serious tone. this was a post gig meet up, a 24 hour hole in the wall that leti liked to frequent because it was cheap and filling. and she loved to shoot the shit with her friends. she found pleasure in her midnight rituals, in the traditions and routines, in the quiet moments between all of the drama. whenever there was quiet, of course. there was a tendency she had to ramble. her dad used to call her a space case, the way her tangents would loop-de-loop around each other. when she came back to earth's orbit, sometimes all the ship crew didn't come with her. "anyways, he was fully fine. he was just a little queasy. overexcitement and not enough blood in his brain or whatever, you know? i'm not surprised, though, couldn't handle the heat. i know the effect i have on peo-- hey yo?" letitia waved a hand at naimeh, haphazard, more a light prodding than offense. she was just pleased the other was sitting with her. "are you listening? this is totally dire knowledge to have, nai. pure gold."

in contemplation of a sugar rush, naimeh's attention only wavers to see where their waiter is; he's thumbing through instagram, plainly over his shift. she decides, with a sort of catholic guilt over being a customer, not to bother him for a milkshake. another time, then. it's a sure thing they'll return to this booth, treating the diner like their personal clubhouse until they've sampled everything on the menu twice over. thrice, maybe, with how often leti's been naimeh's salvation and kept her from boring herself to bed. and then a hand's disrupting her train of thought — she half-startles, snapping her gaze back to leti with a light laugh at her impatience. "of course." a total lie, sung to the rhythm of how she springs up in her seat, at attention. "of course! me, very much listening. men, horny for you. you should start making them sign a waiver." naimeh nods, satisfied at her rapid-fire approximation of what was said, then drops the bit with a wide, teasing grin. "how'd i do?"

all i know is that the fate of the entire world rests on ... did you eat all the jellies?

"sometimes, people just smell like gasoline, alright? it means nothing," one hand thrown out between them, a flat, empty palm that offers nothing, this is the explanation dylan gives for their current appearance — fuel soaked converse and hoodie sleeves — and subsequent odor; and it's a nothing explanation, they know that. about a mile away, there's some smoke that would answer this question a lot better than dylan's willing to, but good luck getting them to admit to it. they sit on the edge of the wooden fence behind them, indignant and content to stick with that nothing story. "are you done being a fed? i'm telling you, dude," thumb jutted over their shoulder, towards a long - since abandoned barn, their attention has evidently moved on from the current line of questioning; they'd called them to show them this place, to investigate inside with them. "there's something in there. poltergeist, maybe? demon? — i gotta get closer. you coming, or not?"

"i know you didn’t just call me a fuckin' fed." offended, tally launches those long island vowels harsh and high enough to knock dylan down from their perch. she cranes her neck like she misheard, eyes blown wide in disbelief. of all the names to call her, none would be as incendiary as what just came out of dylan's mouth; not freak, not psycho, not nutcase. "i'm going nowhere with you unless i get to rephrase my question. 'kay?" the raise of her eyebrows is a challenge — slide off the fence and deal with whatever goes bump in the barn, down a friend — but she hurtles ahead in case they might be tempted by it. "how come you smell like gasoline without me?" that was all the whiff of accusation in tally's initial ask came from, those two words. who or what was on fire was immaterial, just that a fire was set and dylan bruised her heart by not asking her to witness it.

" you threw it out ?? but it looked so good. c'mon, even you have to admit that. " or not — considering the now bare spot on her desk where the questionable decor piece once sat. libby leans back in her office chair, feet pushing her closer to maja's side of their shared workspace. " don't tell me you're going to go all wednesday adams on me and tape a line down the middle of this thing. "

maja freezes, tries to be furtive with the oblique glance she flicks down to libby's desk. "...i thought it was trash," she admits. a pulse of embarrassment at her presumption, then she's finally swiveling to face libby, angling herself away like all she can spare is a few moments of intrusion. any longer, and tape may start to sound appealing — no sparkles or scooches past this line. "i'm sorry. you can fish it out, if you like. it's over there." she points to the bin, hoping libby balks at the suggestion.

" i'm sure you miss this. " the sarcasm is visceral as it drips from ever word, aria moving deeper into his small apartment, what seems like every wall covered in some sort of paper with his scrawl, his notes, annotated diagrams of everything from the heart to the nervous system. some days he's not even sure he likes it — or that anyone really does. " what're you doing here anyway ?? " it's not like it's a surprise to find her on his doorstep, especially a weekend when he promised to dedicate not all his time to his studies. " — i told you i had to study. "

"i know, and i felt seriously called to intervene," naimeh declares, trailing behind him. aria's apartment is too claustrophobic to linger in for long, with its ghosts of medical school past crawling all over the walls. she's unsettled, hunching into herself and clutching at her bag like she's fearful the anatomical drawings are going jump out at her. it's happened before, in a recurring nightmare where the nervous system materializes from her textbook and eats her face. "because this—" she raises her index finger and twirls it forcefully in a circle. "—is getting scary, bro. you need to take the night off."

Life Partners (2014) dir. Susanna Fogel

Mia Goth as Maxine Minx in X (2022) directed by Ti West

Peter Hewitt & Keith Gordon & Kathryn Bigelow & Phil Joanou - Wild Palms (1993)

— Mark Z. Danielewski, from House Of Leaves

YARA SHAHIDI as Jane Sitting in Bars with Cake (2023), dir. Trish Sie

_chingisabella