#dugpas

[totheedge]

@dugpas // continued

There’s a loud SNORT.  “Doppelganger!  Oh, that’s a fun game you’re trying to get me to play, buddy boy.”  It’s petulant commentary, as his Other goes onward with his drivel.  It’s followed by another laugh at the command - which keeps going, and going, and he slaps his hands on his knees, and it keeps going, and he stands up, and it’s not a humorous laugh anymore.  It ends with contempt cradled on his tongue, more of a cry.  He kicks the chair he had woken from, and he’s angry because THIS SCENE is what he should be waking up from, not the other way around.  “You pissant, I’ve spent blood, sweat, tears, and YEARS searching for answers, and you think you can just get them served to you on a silver platter?  I know it would match the spoon in your filthy, boyish mouth, but I’m afraid you have the dynamics here miscalculated.”

Windom’s hands clutch behind his back, now staring his younger self straight on.  “Now.”  And he smiles again.  It’s that same flavor of inappropriate for the situation, but that’s just him, isn’t it?  He follows it with a slow shake of his head, and turns to start pacing.  “See - see, that’s a damn hilarious thing you said just now, calling me a doppelganger.  How about that.  I think we have ourselves a bit of a pickle to eat our way out of, WINNIE.  Last time I checked, I wasn’t a re-rendition.”  Then he stops, snaps his head to look at the Other with squinted eyes and wrinkled nose.  “Just how old are you supposed to be?  Your hair is dark.”

[damnfinecup]

@dugpas // x

His fingers dig into the seat, free hand rubbing over his face.  His nails claw in deeper when Windom slams the brakes, squeezing it hard, his whole body clenching up.  Dale doesn’t dare turn fully to look at him, his partner, eyes barely focused on Windom from the side.  He knows.  He knows that Windom is right.  Dale wants to argue it anyways because he’s ashamed, and he doesn’t want this reality, not at all.  He doesn’t want there to be no consequences.  He wants some form of punishment for this.  

He’s already shaking when the car speeds off around the corner, and his fist slams down on the door arm rest--  lifts himself up in his chair, moving, adjusting.  He can feel the saliva in his mouth.  “Given the preference of not having vomit in the car, I would very much like if- if you pulled over.  Now.  Right now.”  Dale’s hand shoots up to cover his mouth.  “P- please pull over, Windom.  Pull over.”  He snaps the button of the seatbelt, and throws it off his chest; he’s either jumping out the car or sticking his head out the window.

[damnfinecup]

@dugpas // x

He watches Windom intently, and abruptly stops tapping his cup once the other starts rubbing his head.  Oh.  Alright.  Dale silently traces one finger atop the doughnut box, having been ready to pop it open.  So much for that peace offering.  He sighs to himself, thinking away about how next to fix the situation.  Maybe he could do a quick run to the store, grab aspirin?

He perks up at the mention of dinner.

Dale leans toward Windom in his seat, smiling enthusiastically.  Maybe if he’s cheerful enough?  Could he set a positive mood?  He reaches over, setting a hand on Windom’s shoulder, gently squeezing.  Dale’s expression is bright.  “Of course.”  His voice is soft, but clearly excited.  “What else would I rather be doing than having dinner with my two favorite people?”  His thumb rubs against Windom’s suit jacket, and he pauses to sip his coffee, eyes still on focused on him.

“--I feel bad never inviting you two over, but my apartment isn’t exactly the kind of place you have get-togethers at.”  Dale’s apartment doesn’t have a fixed position to him; it feels temporary.  He doubts he will be there very long.  No.  He feels more at home in the Earle household, to be truthful.  It feels like a home.  Then again, maybe any place with the Earles would feel like a home.

[notmuchtoconceal]

the intensity of windom earle's feverish ranting about the dugpas -- sorcerers who cultivate evil for the sake of evil -- pertains to the continuous strain of fighting off the realization that his partner is an energy vampire actively siphoning his depleted soul.

nobody would believe him.

[rnelodramas-archive]

@dugpas

She’s been waiting around for him, sitting on the couch, trying to read.  It’s not working out.  She wanted to see how late he’d come home this time.  The answer:  pretty fucking late.  Late enough that she’s two glasses of wine in, and when he walks through the door, her fingernails scrape against the glass as she clutches it tightly.  And she fixes a stare on him.  Waits until he acknowledges her with a glance.

“Where were you.”

[totheedge]

"Someone once told me that explaining is an admission of failure.

@dugpas

“Explaining or feeling the need to explain?”

Windom’s eyes follow the other closely.  Sees every little twitch, every recognizable tic.  The familiar expressions that let him know what the other is feeling.  Is it the woods?  This place?  Is it him?  A hallucination?

He was diagnosed with schizophrenia at the asylum, and this is a situation where he confuses his entire life’s work with one goddamn statement from a doctor.

“Can’t help if the message was never meant to be conveyed clearly in the first place.  Can’t help that the world is filled with beings barely passing the evolutionary stage of a neanderthal.  Cant help if they don’t comprehend how they’re being saved.”  He clicks his tongue against the back of his teeth.  Arms cross.  “I don’t ever plan to explain myself, even if it’s necessary for anyone to understand me.”

He hums for a moment.  “That would...  Be missing the entire point.  What matters is the end goal, not people’s feelings along the way.”  Then he chuffs something of a laugh.  “Unless the feelings are negative - I need those.”  A pause.  He cocks his head to the side, putting on a lop-sided smile to match.  “Oh, I’m sorry.  Should I say we need those?”

He’s trying to understand.  Put words in the others mouth, watch if this impostor will gobble them up or spit them out.  Are they really the same?  Or is this a Thing of its own origin?  Is it corporeal, in his head, barely existing on this plane?

Worse:  what if his reflection is thinking the same?  Is he real?  Like he has to remind himself, he digs his nails into the palms of his hand.  There’s a feeling there, but is that feeling actually occurring?  

That would be a funny punchline if he had ever heard the joke.

“So I’ve shared my tribulation with you.  Tell me, tell me now - do YOU feel the need to explain what you’re doing, what your plans are?”  And with some emphasis, mockery, scorn, he adds:  “--Windom.”

[lost-in-the-movies]

Chapter 17 - The Twin Peaks Mythology in my video series Journey Through Twin Peaks (spoilers)

[shoegazekid]

Excited for this - @youngteamband #shoegaze #dreampop #indie