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bangtan-sonyeonddaeng · 5 years ago

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Part 3

Summary: Soulmates have different ways of being connected to one another. Sometimes it’s through being able to write on their arms and having it show up on their soulmates. For others it was having their first words spoken to one another permanently tattooed into their skin. You had a unique connection with yours, one that you really hadn’t ever heard of happening before. Whatever song was stuck in your soulmate’s head was also stuck in yours and the same was for them. When Yoongi realizes one of his songs is playing on repeat in your head, he immediately takes to writing songs to communicate with you in hopes it will finally bring you two together.

Genre: Fluff. Just pure tooth rotting, sweet fluff.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

Yoongi sat at the computer, mind blank as he stared at a rough draft of a song he had been writing for his mix tape. However he soon realized that he was going to have to completely scrap everything and start all over. The lyrics he had written to go with this melody didn’t suit the words he wanted to say to you at all. He’s been at the studio for well over an hour now, pen and notebook laying next to him as he tried to think of lyrics to write for you.

“God this sucks. I can’t think of anything!” He sighs in frustration and brings his hands up to his face to rub his tired eyes. He’s about to give up and start fresh tomorrow when he hears another song begin to enter his mind.

Alright banbokdwen shisogeim

He smiles to himself as he realizes another one of his songs is stuck in your head. And begins to chuckle when he realizes you must not know too much Korean as most of the words are just jumbled while the melody plays in your head. Are his songs really that catchy? Or did you possibly feel a connection to him through his music? He pulls out his phone to call Hoseok for help.

“Yoongi! How’s the song writing going?”

“It’s absolute shit. I haven’t wrote anything yet. I was wondering if you could help me? Or at least help me sort through the rough drafts of these tracks I’ve already produced to help me find one that is catchy and will get stuck in their head so I know they heard me.”

“Of course! I’d be happy to help.”

They spend a good half hour in the studio going over the different beats and songs Yoongi had saved before Hoseok shouts excitedly.

“That’s it! That’s the one. This is perfect. It’s catchy, but it’s also soft and I think will really show the emotions you’ve been feeling towards your soulmate. There’s a bit here where the melody turns a little more harsh and that’s where you could speak your feelings honestly, your fears about never getting to meet. But then maybe at the end make it clear that this song is for them as a way to communicate. I don’t know just some ideas-”

“Hoseok that’s brilliant. Thank you. I think I finally know where to go with this.”

“You’re welcome! Don’t spend too much time here, make sure to rest!”

“I’ll rest when the song is finished. You know me.”

“Alright. But just take breaks every once in a while, yeah?”

“Sure Hobi, thank you.”

Yoongi sits down with his notebook and begins scrawling lyrics on the page. He works through the night and by the time he’s finished he is beginning to see the sun rise over the horizon. He smiles and decides he’s going to post it now, not wanting to wait any longer and hoping you’re awake. He opens up their twitter and posts a link to his song on soundcloud. Immediately people are liking, retweeting, basically going nuts over Yoongi having released another solo song. He smiles to himself and continues scrolling through the replies, until he comes across one particular one that makes him stop.

I don’t know if you’ll see this but I hear you. I’m listening to every word.

It’s about 5:00 pm when a notification on your phone goes off that BTS has tweeted something new. You open it immediately, and see a link to a song. You are seriously excited when you see it’s a new song for Yoongi’s mixtape. You click on it, anxiously waiting for the page to load as a slew of army also try to access the song. After the website crashes a few more times it finally opens for you and you listen to a sweet, beautiful piano melody playing. When he starts singing, even though you aren’t fluent in his language you can feel his emotions and what he is saying through his words. The song sounds... hopeful. But then towards the middle begins to sound more dark, as if he’s doubting something. As if he has all of this uncertainty and is rapping out his frustrations. The song ends on a more upbeat note, and the very last line is in English and it sends sparks up your spine.

I don’t know if you’re listening, but this was for you.

You freeze, hand hovering over your phone before it drops to the floor. He wrote this song for you. Tears well up in your eyes as you realize he has been just as frustrated not being able to see or talk to you too. You stand there for a few moments processing everything when your phone starts ringing. You realize it’s your friend. You answer it, still feeling dazed.

“HE WROTE A SONG FOR YOU!”

“I am aware of that.”

“So you finally have come to terms with the fact that Yoongi is your soulmate huh?”

“I mean it’s pretty hard to deny it at this point. It feels like something is tugging on my heart every time I listen to his music.”

“This must be his way of trying to find you and talk to you. He’s going to write a whole mixtape dedicated to you just watch.” You scoff into the phone.

“I don’t know about all that...”

“it’s true! He will! Yoongi has always been very open and honest with his feelings. If this is at the forefront of his mind, then he’s going to write about it.” You sigh and flop onto your bed, staring up at the ceiling.

“Maybe he’ll start including times and places he wants to meet you or something.”

“That would just be stupid do you know how many fans would go there if he did that?”

“He’ll probably do it cryptically then. Listen to what he’s saying y/n, like really listen.”

“That’s gonna be kind of hard when I don’t know Korean...”

“He posted a translation with the song!”

“Oh? Really?”

“Yes! Go read it!” You immediately switch back over to their twitter and see that he did post screen shots of his notes with an English translation. You read the lyrics and it doesn’t stop you from tearing up even more. To read all of the frustrations he’s had with thinking he was never going to meet you, to now having hope that he’s heard you listening to his music that one day you will find each other. You don’t hesitate to grab your phone and tweet a reply.

I don’t know if you’ll see this but I hear you. I am listening to every word.

Yoongi doesn’t quite understand why reading that comment sent such intense butterflies into his stomach. Could it be you? Is it possible that he happened to find his soulmate in a sea of countless other replies? He tells himself no. That there’s no way that is even possible. But there is a small nagging in the back of his mind that keeps reminding him of what Namjoon had said to him, what all the guys have said to him.

The universe has a way of making sure you two will be brought together.

He taps on your page and sees that you just recently made it if the fact that one of only things on your page was the reply to him and another one stating that you were a new army. He smiles at that. And now he’s internally debating with himself if he should talk to you and try to get to know you, or if he was just being crazy. He’s leaning more towards being crazy. Maybe the lack of contact with his soulmate for this long is just making him see you in every body. He sets his phone down and sighs, but before long he begins to feel a pulling urge in his chest. Like someone is tugging him back over to his phone. Before he can stop himself he makes himself a fake suga stan twitter account and responds to you.

I’m sure he will see this. He’s on social media much more than you think he just doesn’t always respond unless he has something really thoughtful to say.

Ah, thank you. I probably sound like some crazy fan don’t I?

Not at all.. I think... I think he would be happy to know that someone is listening to him. Like really hearing his words.

I hope so. I just feel bad you know? Like I wish I could just pop over to Korea be like here is your soulmate! So he doesn’t have to be sad anymore.

Are you his soulmate?

He has to wait a while before you respond.

I believe so. I sincerely hope so. Anyone would be lucky to be his. He’s a wonderful person and cares about others so much. Even just in my short time being an army I can see that.

Yoongi stops responding after that, not trusting himself to reveal who he is and fly you out on a plane to Seoul just to see for himself if you are his soulmate. He is frustrated, wondering how exactly he was going to get to meet you. He could set it through his song, but he needs to be careful about it. He can’t reveal too much or the entire fandom will be wherever the place is he is talking about. He’s about to start working on the next song when a text comes through.

HYUNG GO TO BED! I know you’re still awake so sleep! Work on another song tomorrow night! Goodnight!

Yoongi laughs as he reads the message from Taehyung. He texts him goodnight and lays down on the couch in his studio, drifting off to sleep with his song playing on repeat in his head and a wide smile on his face.

Tag list: @anoesjkaax ( didn’t forget you this time heheh) @just-call-me-trash-can @thestral-balerion @xcastielbabyangelface @rukinamukami @r-e-d-i-s-h @heartblackerthancoffee @rosita7703

#yoongi x reader #reader x yoongi #bts #min yoongi #suga #bts fanfic #yoongi fanfic #bts fluff #yoongi fluff #bts soulmate au

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grim-faux · 4 years ago

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3 - Haunted Basement

The patient was still mewling even when I entered the small room, I slammed the door behind me and took the time to slide one of the small rolling chairs over in front of the door, despite it opening from the other side. It was stupid but I wasn’t really thinking about it at the time. Despite the skeletal physique of the patient I felt that somehow he would manage to get up and chase me down, if I didn’t deter his efforts in some miniscule way. Once I had the door ‘secured’ I stood and watched the handle, expecting it to turn slowly like in some horror movie or something.

Eventually I pulled myself away and jogged all the way from the grunts mill back to the other side of the lobby. It seemed almost too good to be true, and I had a bit of a scare when I reached the security door and couldn’t find the magnet key in my pocket. The shock was short lived, I simply had to turn my coat pocket out more to pull it out of a wrinkle it had wedged into. Never did a computerized confirmation sound so beautiful.

I shut the door after me and glanced over the room. “They Lie” was scrawled on the wall in dried blood beside a window, right above a large pool of blood. Footprints led away from the message towards the door.

It seemed my chance finding the magnet card wasn’t so chance after all. The ‘Priest’ had been in here recently, and he did leave the key card for me to find, presumably while I was out cold for that short time. This system seemed too elaborate to concoct by one man, but it was apparent from the file I found he was a patient of Mount Massive Asylum. Not a comforting thought given my situation.

No matter, I would soon put this place far behind me, and deep in the back of my mind. I shook my head and turned to the main computer. Overhead screens displayed various rooms, some I recognized, others I hoped to never stumble upon. No one knew I was here, no one significant anyway. I pulled the chair over and slid the keyboard under my hands, the screen had the basic menu for systems access. I might be able to stumble my way through this, as long as their network didn’t lock me out after a few password attempts.

Security

The white page and loading screen appeared and I watched intently as the little gray bar filled with white, inch by inch. I looked over my shoulder making sure no one was in the room with me, I hadn’t searched it thoroughly in my haste, but everything appeared normal. Or should I say safe and none threatening?

Aside from my friend slumped against the wall. Sigh, I turned back to the screen and blinked. The feed on my right was transmitting from somewhere dark and I could barely make out the familiar black shape with bald head strolling along towards…was that a lever? My blood ran cold and I stood up from my seat when the ‘Priest’ turned and looked directly at the camera.

The lights went out.

I stumbled in the sudden dark, for some reason moving before I had any idea what was going on. That switch he pulled, it was a breaker somewhere.

Thank the creators of backup generators, the emergency lights flashed on bright and blazing, I covered my face as my eyes readjusted to the bombardment of light. Had to find the generators, need to turn the power back on. The plaque near this corridor read Electric Room and indicated steps down, along with an overturned wheelchair and a crimson trail.

As my mind wandered to undertaking this new task, a muffled voice came through the door. “We have to contain it.”

I needed a way out, I needed to be somewhere else, anywhere but here. I tried the door, but losing the main power activated a locking mechanism. Damn! Did he know I was here? There was no place visible that could conceal me, only two lockers. Was that all? I turned and saw a large shadow streak across the wall, my options were drying up.

The locker gave a loud creak as its hinges ground together, I pulled down a coat that had been hung up and tossed it aside before replacing the vacant space with myself. Right when I had shut the door, the big fucker stalked past the window. I held my breath and hoped, I prayed he would keep going. This door was always locked before, it’s still locked now. He’d lose interest and keep going, somewhere out there was some poor idiot that hadn’t been tossed out a window yet.

I wanted to slip down as he threw his body against the steel door. Maybe it would hold, it was built to withstand a riot. But I think at this point I was just kidding myself, nothing was going the way I had anticipated it would. This place needed to go to hell.

After three slams of his massive body, the door crashed inward and Chris stood on the bent metal. He gave the room a casual look over, everything looked just as it was the former evening.

I tried to control my breathing, everything seemed amplified in the acoustics of the hollow locker. Out of reflex I pulled up my camera, catching an image of the big fucker as he turned to the computer terminals. With him out of sight I felt infinitely better, but he was still there searching for me. He made audible snuffling sounds, muttering to himself,

“You were here, weren’t you? Little pig. I’ll find all you whores.”

I hadn’t realized I’d closed my eyes until they snapped open, the sound of a creaky locker bulldozing my thoughts. I could barely make out his shoulder, and a blood stained hand as he stood poised, but in the same instant relaxed when he found no one huddled in the cramped space. He shut it gently and pivoted, marching to the doorway where he stopped. He glanced back but looked away.

My lungs craved air, but every shallow breath I took ached. Did he plan to turn around and check the other locker?

The latch clicked as I lifted it and pushed the door open, I stiffly swung around it as I shut the door and pulled the next locker open. No sooner had it settled, Chris stormed back to the lockers and snapped the door open. I was trying to push away, put myself as far from him as I could despite the tiny space.

He shut the door and turned away, this time exiting the room. “Parameters will hold up….”

Ten minutes later and I was still hiding. I heard no sound and saw no sign of Chris’ return, but remained leery. If I couldn’t see him, he could be anywhere.

Anywhere but here?

I struggled with the latch, almost panicking with the thought I had accidentally locked myself in. My fingers were a little numb, my whole mind felt numb. I took a few steps toward the computer terminal and collapsed in the chair. What had I been doing up to this point?

“The big fucker is stalking me. Found a patient file for a CHRIS WALKER, ex-military police, several tours in Afghanistan. A lot of the blood in this place is on his hands. But not all of it.”

My writing was sloppy, but that was the best I could do for now. My camera was still on record so I shut it off for a bit and saved its charge. I set it on the terminal and propped my head up on my hand. The Generators would be down the steps in the Electric Room but restoring the power would be another matter. Did they need gasoline? What sort of grid did they run on? I was unsure if Murkoff staff had them locked up to prevent people like the ‘Priest’ guy from getting ahold of them. Obviously they must be accessible, unless he was the only one with access to them.

I sighed through my fingers. What was I doing with my life?

Pages had been left on the terminal, a small note to Shawn about the camera operations. Beneath it was a notice for restarting the generators, the Asylum had it’s own power off the grid after Murkoff took over. Well, of course they would!

But it had directions for restarting the generators, reactivate the pumps and throw the breaker. Seems pretty basic. I tossed down the page and ran out the room, but returned shortly to snatch the camera. My thoughts were a bit off kilter, I was hearing shrieking on the other side of the gate, from where I thought Chris had stalked off to. I was going the opposite way, later I would worry where he had gone.

A pipe had broken from the wall, water gushed from it just missing the stairs I took to the basement. Chances are it was a delivery pipe, but it was no more cleaner than sewage. The air was humid yet chilly, small drafts moved through the open doorway waiting in the subterranean level. I sucked in a sharp breath as the water engulfed my shoes, I stepped back and pondered. There was no way to get around this, I liked my shoes but I’d have to buy a new pair after this regardless. A new style, I didn’t want to remind myself how many bodies I trudged over.

The actuality was, I was scared. No lie. There was no telling who was down here, if there was something worse than that big fucker. But if I wanted a chance to get out of here, I had to get through this.

My feet sloshed through the water, shoes turned soggy and heavy. I pulled up my camera and flicked on the night vision. Even with the enhanced lens I couldn’t see what was under the water, I just had to tread carefully. There was quite a bit of ruble on the surface, some of the ceiling had weathered and fallen. Large items lined the walls, some barrels a pallet. They might have used the lower floor for storage as well, it was spacious from what I could see.

I was met with a despairing sight, the gate that lead into the basement rooms was locked with a thick chain. No way could I smash it. Just to mock me, the wall beyond the gate had a plaque labeling the primary rooms. The middle name was Electric rooms. There had to be another way into there.

As I turned to backtrack, a flash of light blinded me from the next room. The wall had rotted and crumbled to some degree, and with some extra effort I was able to remove enough brick that I could squeeze through.

The water was deeper on this side, and a bit more ruble was hidden beneath the surface. I caught my footing before I could fall and drop the camera. That’s the last thing I needed.

A cool draft met me in this grimy place, but the scent it carried was far from fresh. I clutched my coat tighter around me and stepped carefully, there were boards bobbing just under the surface, sodden but uncertain about their watery demise. A few laundry baskets had been abandoned and another shelf melted in the flood. I turned a corner and continued, at least in this section I didn’t need my camera, this corridor was well lit.

Wooden crates were stacked along the walls making a slow precession into the water as their predecessors decayed, and gave under the weight. I wondered what was kept in the barrels along the walls, gasoline maybe. They had vehicles and other machinery that needed fuel, a tanker probably came out to deliver the barrels. The noxious stench of bad oil was constant, cheap grade bought in bulk for old machines. Engines. The generators couldn’t be far.

Someone had stacked boxes in the middle of the corridor, I tested their stability before hopping over. The emergency lights didn’t reach this area, or had burned out. I moved my feet carefully under the water tensing when I felt something soft and undeniably slimy. It could be a cardboard box filled with liquefied files, that’s all it was. But the smell intensified, a soggy vapor of rot and soured water.

Before me was what appeared to be a high archway, but the opening was boarded up tight. I put my hand up testing, feeling the draft creeping between the cracks. Maybe there was a small window down here, something I could squeeze through if I could find it.

“W-who’s there?”

The voice sounded meek, worried. I shuffled away as banging ensued.

“Who’s? WHO’S THERE?” I held still as the noises softened and the speaker began mumbling. “I’ll hurt you. I’m not afraid of dying. I’m not afraid of anything. Not anymore.”

I waited listening to the sounds of the water, only the drips and tranquil sloshing penetrated the black. Slowly my feet moved, reducing as much noise as I could through the froth. The night vision revealed nothing but a large corridor, at the end a dull haze of light. It was on the other side of a waist high platform, evidence on my side revealed there had been steps some short time ago but the timber ruptured and was torn away. The waterlogged planks I had seen along the way might’ve been the remains.

From what I could make out there was no one in this room. The walls were thick brick and solid looking, a few pallets and boxes had been left to rot. The furthest wall had two doors, the one on my direct left had one, all shut and to my limited knowledge locked tight.

Another body hung from the ceiling, headless and bloated. Another reminder of what would become of me if I didn’t hustle and get the fuck out of here.

I pulled myself onto the platform and stepped softly down the steps. I wondered if this place was first built as an Asylum, or had it been constructed by some eccentric billionaire that appreciated his privacy. The building was ancient, but the ideal of looking into its private history had not come to mind while I was struggling to locate information on Murkoff’s activities. A map would have been very useful right now.

The control board beneath the brilliance of light labeled out my next course of action. The generators couldn’t work without gasoline (I knew that). The main breaker needed to be flipped before I could restart the power.

This didn’t seem too complicated, where?- I turned around recalling the sealed rooms, one of them must hold the breaker.

My shoes bubbled as they filled with water once again, I didn’t want to think about what might’ve been floating beneath the surface. I focused ahead trusting my NV, even with it I was still bumping into boxes and things my eyes had missed as I set my narrow sight for one of the two doors. When I put my weight on the first step it gave, dissolving into the water. I came down hard on my knee but brushed off the sharp pain, at this point it was nothing but a mild nuisance.

The door knob stuck but with a hard twist the handle creaked and I crept inside. The soft glow of the emergency light illuminated the generator, poised on a metal pole was the button. All was going well, I punched the dial and turned around as the machine whirled to life.

On a metal barrel beside the door something glittered, I walked over and discovered it to be another battery. Odd place to find one, but maybe someone had been down here last with a penlight. I pocketed it before I stepped out the door and stopped, my blood running cold. The sound of crashing and banging came from not far away, not far enough away from me. Timber splintered and gave as someone broke through what could only be a door. Or a barricade.

I checked through my camera scanning - where had it come from? The acoustics of this room made locating sounds tricky, there were four doors in this room? No, three, I came from a step–

A pair of eyes flashed, I stepped back as I moved my camera searching for the face. There, a man looking right at me from the doorway he had forced open. I retreated back into the room shutting the door before examining the confined area. Had he seen me? He was insane no doubt, could he trust his eyes after what had happened here? It might not have mattered to him.

The room was solid, except for a bed a few feet from the generator. I slid under it as the thuds came from the doorway, the wood snapping and the jam cracking before the door clattered against the cement. My instinct warned me to crawl further under the bed, I was just beneath the edge, but if I made a sound he would find me. The dull drone of the pump could nullify the tiniest gasp, but somehow he would pick up the rough fiber of my coat against the moist cement. I held my breath as he walked by, his gaze roaming the walls and shadows. In his hand he carried some sort of weapon, what looked like the leg of a table with screws still sticking out of it.

It was splattered with black.

I swallowed and let out a shallow breath. Please leave. Please don’t check under the bed.

He slapped the clean side of the club against his palm a few times, turning to check the room once more before he spun around. “The gospel. Tells us to follow.”

Once he cleared the doorframe I took in a long, deep breath. God, my ribs. I didn’t need to get anymore beat up than I already was.

For good measure I waited, he had vacated the room but was he debating on returning? I had no idea if he had seen me or what he might’ve thought, if he thought he saw me. There was time, take it slow. But if I waited, would he eventually return and notice the bed? I shifted under it a little more, almost immediately the man materialized in the open doorway.

I bit my lip. He didn’t hear me! He couldn’t have! He was here on a hunch and once he had satisfied his suspicions he would leave. I tucked my face against my shoulder and watched him with my eyes. He gave the room another glance over as he passed, and checked behind the generator when near it.

Against my better judgment, I slipped out on the other side of the bed beside the wall. I kept low and crawled towards the gaping doorway as I heard his feet grit against the moist silt of the floor. My breath hitched as I looked over my shoulder, he had just dropped down to check under the bed. I didn’t wait for him to rise, I carefully stepped on the door and slipped out of the room.

The steps groaned under my weight, the sound amplified in my mind. Cursed all, I forgot the last step was ruined and stumbled in the water as I fought to keep my footing, and reduce the noise I was making.

“What’s that?”

I couldn’t see at all without my camera, but hadn’t the presence of mind to raise it for my eyes. Instead, I felt around in the dark for the rail and made a painfully slow shuffle around to the backside of the steps. They groaned as my pursuer stepped down into the water.

He made a more graceful recovery than I had when he missed the last step, or he recalled that it was ruined. Or, a more frightening thought, he was more accustomed to the inky veil that occupied many of the rooms.

It was fortunate I had my hand wedged in the cameras strap, I had let go of it as I pressed my fingers against the wet wood. With it on my mind I raised the visor and watched the figure scan his immediate area. After a tense second he continued forward, his legs churning dull froth with each step. I backed away slowly, always keeping him in my sight. I bumped against a crate before I turned around, checking for what other obstacles might be in my path.

The second door, same as the first. I hopped onto a crate moldering against the steps and made light footfalls towards the handle. It gave with an easy twist and I entered, shutting my thin paper of protection.

This room had more to offer. Lockers lined the wall, shelves had been assembled in the corners littered with few items, some bottles of oil and boxes, tattered sheets. In the furthest corner was the pump.

When I activated it, the noise would alert the prowler. There would be no doubt in his mind, with the door shut, that someone was still in here. Or, this was the trail of thought I entertained. I had to keep reminding myself he was a patient in an asylum, there was no telling what his rationale skills entitled.

I punched the button and turned to the lockers along the wall. Maybe I could lock it from the inside….

The latch was different from the ones on the top floor, I fumbled with it trying to discern if it was corroded with rust or if I was doing this wrong, but the sounds at the door thumped with each beat of my heart. Wait! Wait! I needed to hide now!

I sprint over behind the pump and ducked down. A final crash announced my visitor as the door caved in. He kicked away bits of the timber as he stepped through, they clattered across the floor loud enough to be heard over the pump.

“—revealed himself to the shattered minds.” He muttered, somewhere amid a quote. I curled up into a tighter ball and pressed up against the pump, if he glanced over it I might fall just under his peripheral sight.

A locker opened then slammed shut. He patrolled the area, his club thudding along the metal doors before he stopped. For a moment there was near total silence.

I trembled though I couldn’t decide if it was from the cold or if I was terrified. Must have been both, my coat was good but my pants were soaked. I flinched when he began beating the lockers and screaming. When would this nightmare end?

With a final hoot he raced out, his shoes thudding over the broken planks and fading down the steps outside.

Several minutes passed, but of the man there was no sound. The generator caused too much of a ruckus, it was impossible to pick up echoes or voice in the next room. Was he still out there? From here I had no way of knowing.

I uncoiled myself and peered over the pump. It might’ve helped if I had my camera up, but the emergency light impeded the NVs range. There were no sounds that worried me, but that could mean he was standing just outside the door waiting. I moved around the large machine and crouched, shuffling towards the broken door. At this range I could see through my visor, but halfway there I couldn’t see much beyond the portal but dark shapes huddled.

The right side was the stair side, I huddled on the left straining to see.

“Can’t see me. Won’t get me.”

I slinked back, but realized I was still safe. He was trudging by the stairs muttering to himself, I don’t think he could see me. Or maybe I underestimated his instincts, he climbed onto the crates and began up towards me.

In a wild dash I reached the pump and ducked down behind it. I hadn’t seen if he cleared the door before I hid, did he even see me in the first place? I had no way of knowing, but I was out of sight and therefore, out of mind. He was just checking the room. He must’ve visited the other side first, and then came back to see if I was here. But this was all speculation, I had no idea what was—

A locker swung open, pause. He slammed it shut and jerked another one open. He knew I was here, he was looking for me. I listened carefully as his steps moved across the room, then pivoted. Where was he now? I slid to the edge of the machine and leaned over.

He was at the opposite corner just standing there, but I could still hear him walking. When my eyes adjusted to the odd contrast of light and shadow, I saw a sheet hanging on the shelf.

“There you are!”

I twisted around where I was huddled, he grabbed my shoulder and raised the club above his head. My leg kicked out blindly smashed into the brick wall, I tore out of his grip and slid out under a metal pipe attached to the pump. A sharp crack filled the air when he brought his weapon down, it took a moment to register my opportunity before I was clawing to my feet running for the door. “Wait! Come back!”

Even with my night vision up, I still ran into the rail that surrounded the steps. I heaved over it splashing into the water below, footsteps were right at my neck and I felt something slice through the air near my head. I bent forward and ran, though I heard him storming down the steps a few feet behind me. The camera was jiggling too much, I had a god awful time trying to hold it steady while I tore through the room. All the time the guy was still after me, screaming. I was unsure where exactly I was headed.

Ahead of me I saw steps and light, I vaulted up them stumbling over the fallen door. I hadn’t stepped over a door to get into this place.

A wall appeared in my path, I barely put on the breaks but still managed to smash my good shoulder against it. Panicked and shaken I forgot the camera but rather, slapped my palm and fingers against the solid surface and followed it. I staggered through an open door as the footfalls of my pursuer neared, I found the edge of the door and flung it shut. The doorknob rattled as he worked to get it open, I think my appreciation for broken door handles grew somewhat in that instant.

I stumbled over a pipe and fell hard on my chest. As I lay groaning and fighting to recover from the stun, I noticed a few broken beds just ahead. The door was about to give, I crawled under the beds and lay flat as the wood crumpled and the variant charged through.

It was impossible to see without my camera, but I heard his wet footfalls as he paced around the room. A few of the items were shifted, I tried to identify what each was as he poked around. Finally his steps came towards my space, I took a sharp breath and held it as he smashed the club against a metal bar then waited. In the distance I could pick up the echoing clatter of the pumps. I needed to focus on that.

“There was no putty tat there.” After a few more minutes, either he became bored or forgot what he was looking for. I heard his weight rock the broken door as he thudded over it.

I didn’t want to move. No telling where he was now, or where I was. But I reasoned with myself, if I stay here he would eventually find me. I was blocked in but this area had served its purpose for the time. I wasn’t ready to move on, but I forced my hands to pull at the cold floor and drag my body out.

I wasn’t shaking I was quaking unrestrained. That had been too close. What was it I needed to do? Flip the breaker. I bumped my face with the camera as I tried to lift the visor and view exactly where I had stumbled into.

Another storage room. Spare beds and sheets for the patients, lockers, and some filthy laundry bins. I tried to stand but my legs wouldn’t hold my weight, so I shuffled along to a door at the other side of the room. At this point I felt my masculinity melting. Get it together Miles.

With some help from the shelf and the doorknob I was able to haul myself up. I stood a moment taking deep breathes and renewing my resolve. I was okay as long as I could outrun him. Flip the breaker, restart the power, get the fuck out. This would be easy.

The door was locked.

I could’ve held up the camera and seen exactly where I was going, but I wanted to feel the walls, the frigid damp brick and the shelves as I staggered around them. I was not too solid on my feet just yet but once I stepped out into the corridor, I had my camera out like a bad habit.

No sign of the man. No sound of him either. I took it slow, glancing out through the light in the doorway before returning my eyes to the path ahead. On the wall was a plaque with an arrow.

Generator

I followed the corridor, hopping over more debris that had been shoveled into the hall. When I reached the end I picked up the soft footfalls, the moment before he turned the corner. There was a doorway to my right I slipped into, but wish I hadn’t.

Bodies tethered to the ceiling like butchered cattle, organs spilling off the shelf, the translucent skin glimmered in the NV of the camera. I didn’t have time for revulsion, he was right behind me. I slid under the bed and pressed my face into my shoulder, the smell, I will NEVER get used to that smell.

He strolled in from the doorway and glanced over the room, I had my camera held beside my face at an awkward angle to prevent the gleam of the visor from reflecting too much. Despite the discomfort I wouldn’t repositioning it to document his habits. Leave the room, just please leave the room.

Then he did something very madman like. He folded to his knees and smashed at the floor with his club, the strikes hard enough to shatter his weapon, I’m amazed it didn’t. Then, he leaned over and pressed his…ear down. He was facing me at that point, but I was too flabbergasted to register the potential threat. It was probably best I didn’t, otherwise I might’ve squirmed and drawn his attention.

After that he rose to his feet and walked out muttering about shadows.

Once it seemed he left for good I wasted no time in crawling out from under the bed, the stew of rotten organs among the metal legs was too much for my tattered sanity. I sat in the dark absorbed in what little light was put off by the visor. Which way had he gone?

My question was soon answered when he passed from the right, the way I was headed initially. I didn’t move though I was in plain view, he was out of sight by the time the thought registered. The dark had concealed me fully.

I was taking my camera for granted, if I wasn’t looking through the visor everything was a black slate with no texture, no form. Empty. It could drive a man insane, or more so, give him some company.

When his footfalls faded, I shuffled to the door and looked around the edge. He had found the door that was locked and made himself busy trying to tear it down. I was fine with this, it wouldn’t keep him occupied for long. I shut the door as I left the room.

Was I becoming desensitized by what I saw? It was easy to forget in this hall what I had previously been subjected to, but if I dwelled on it for too long I could feel my heart flutter. I need not think on that, keep focused on my objective - to get out of here I needed to flip the breaker and open the main doors. That was the only way out. Try not to think of what lay in the rooms, or what else could possibly be waiting for me. I would escape, I would be fine. My thoughts felt natural, but this worried me as well. A crazy man thought he was normal because the only thoughts he knew, were those of his own, he had forgotten the way a sane man thought.

When I escaped, would I go mad too?

Of course I wouldn’t, what was I thinking? Keep it together Miles, this place was getting to me and I would acknowledge that before it began to eat away at me. I wasn’t going mad, my brain was just filtering so I wouldn’t go mad. Once I was out, I would call up my therapist and get this water under the bridge settled.

Having a therapist was kind of awkward, people got the wrong impression. I was advised long ago when I received my license, that I would come to appreciate a good therapist. No lie, I have seen some of the worst that the world could offer, and even if I didn’t think it phased me it was still a good idea to have someone that I could talk to. Help me cope.

The corridor came to a T, I decided to check my right first, only because I could see the shimmer of water the other way. It felt like the hall was never ending, aside from a mishap of ruined desks that broke up the repetition. At the end was a crushed pallet, along with the door I sought.

The knob gave with one twist, it cracked and fell apart in my hands. I frowned down at it, before I tossed the pieces aside and inspected the door. I could still push it shut but it wouldn’t slow anyone down. I turned my camera to the rooms interior and scanned over the shelves dotted with chemicals and some tool, a trolley, more lockers (why did a facility need so many lockers?) Fuse boxes hugged the furthest walls, the soft glimmer of the backup light blotted out the NVs range. This had to be it.

Directly ahead was a familiar looking handle. The breaker the ‘Priest’ had pulled that cut the power in the first place.

I crossed over to it and forced the lever up. Just had to reactivate the power and find my way back to the ground floor.

As I was heading down the hall I was somewhat distracted, but I quickly caught the soft steps and retreated backwards in a noisy shuffle.

“Hey! What the hell is that?”

He saw me! He saw me! I pivoted and ran back to the room, I didn’t even bother to shut the door behind me I needed to hide.

But damn these lockers, what was I doing wrong? There was no lock on it, it couldn’t be jammed.

The latch popped and I climbed inside, the last worry on my mind was whether I could get this model open from the inside. He didn’t seem to have a problem getting them open.

I slowed my breath when he entered, the door creaked as he shoved it against the wall and the muffled snaps of the wood chair leg striking his palm came closer and closer. I shifted, it felt like the locker jarred on its foundation. Oh god, just hold still and be quiet. He won’t find me. I’m not here.

“Who is that?”

He didn’t see me. He did not see me. I fixed my grip on the camera and leaned back from the cutout vents. The door beside me opened, then slammed shut. I put my hand on the latch and held it. There were three lockers, weren’t there? Or two? I let out a soft sigh as the tension climaxed, where was he?

“Up to heaven, went away!” He wandered out of sight tapping the shelves, and once he had satisfied his fancy he departed.

I waited in the silence just breathing as everything settled, my heart, my haggard breathes. I was in a dead end, I couldn’t afford to get pinned her again. I worked up my nerve and opened the locker, grateful that it hadn’t stuck. Before I went on I made sure I understood how the latch on these worked, then moved to the open doorway and looked out. The corridor was silent but this didn’t set me to ease, he was still here.

At the intersection I paused to zoom the camera and check the far hall, what might be there. I could make out boards and an archway, but I couldn’t decide if this was the other side of the archway passed before entering this area.

I was nearly out anyway, what did it matter?

All the more reason to use caution, from this point on. I stepped lightly along the hall watching my cameras feed, so far no sound. I expected at any moment he would charge out at me, or I’d feel his hand slap me on the shoulder right before my skull splint in two. Shuddering, I swallowed and tried not the think about the foul odor burned into my mind.

Just needed to reactivate the power. The power, so I could open the front doors and get the fuck out of here. My resentment for this place was natural, I didn’t fight it, nor the repetitive state my mind had elapsed into. It was easy to keep repeating my current goal through my thoughts, keep focused on that rather what I had seen. It felt clean. I wanted to feel clean.

I passed the shut door, not bothering to pause, not giving it another thought. Breaker, security, then out. As I neared the light from the entrance I heard his voice. At least I knew where he was.

Thankfully he had torn the second door down, I stepped inside and moved along the shelves, making sure I didn’t knock over anything this time. The battery in the NV was getting low and the visual was dimming. After I removed the battery I thought about tossing it down the hall, distract the variant that way. In the end I decided this was a bad idea, best not draw attention to any area I was near or in. If he wasn’t certain of my whereabouts, it might clue him in with sudden noises. I also did not need to stir him up, he was insane and that was apparently enough to get my face smashed in.

Down to two batteries.

I moved to the other doorway and peeked out, just as he faded from the nightvisions range somewhere down the corridor. I couldn’t see him, but if I ventured into the light I would be vulnerable for a splint second. He would see me. Unless he wasn’t facing me.

One, two, three, and four steps into the entrance corridor. I paused for a beat to listen if he made note of me, but I heard nothing aside from the echoing steps growing distant. It was unnerving.

I continued into the cold water and crossed to the access panel. Before I hit the switch I took a deep breath and prepared myself, this was it. With a firm punch the generator kicked to life, the lamps overhead flickered and blazed white clarity. I shut my camera off and glanced around, which door had I entered from?

All I could see were broken doors, where was…?

I spun about and saw my entrance, the stairs and the arch I originally entered from. I sprang up the steps, despite the protest of my ribs and ran the full length of the hall with the water frothing around my legs. When I reached the small crevice I slipped through, I spied just beyond it a cracked desk a folder forgotten atop. Enough light made the last part of Confidential evident. I picked it up before squeezing through the gap.

Once I felt safe and heard no steps, no screaming man chasing me, I paused to calm my breath. That had been too close, if I hadn’t of gotten out from under the bed when I did…. My close call ration was dwindling down. I could only feel closure with this event, knowing that I had gotten out of there without getting myself killed, and with my camera still in functional order.

I paused a moment to look it over while I had some light. After the fall I hadn’t noticed, but a hairline crack had formed along its case. Another battle scar, it had many. The corners were rubbed clean from constantly shuffling it between the pack and my hands, and the symbols on the buttons were worn away from years of use. To operate my camera I had to work it from memory. Like me, it had been through hell before we reached this place, and it’d receive more abuse before I retired it. That wouldn’t be for a long time, I promise.

#miles upshure #outlast #outlast novelized #outlast fanfiction

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liskantope · 4 years ago

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I got my new laptop in February, despite my old one still working (but ailing, and with constant disk space problems that make browsing performance and other things very patchy). It was a very long, slow process to transfer everything from my old laptop to my new laptop, and even up through recently some of the things I regularly do on the internet, pages I refresh, etc. I’ve retained the habit of doing on my old laptop even though the browser keeps crashing. As of today, the very last activity that I have never done on the new laptop is going on Tumblr. In fact, since joining in late 2014, this is the only computer I’ve ever logged into Tumblr on. I don’t know why I’ve been so stubborn about this -- I guess somewhere at the back of my mind, the new laptop was meant to be primarily for professional tasks (everything went remote shortly after I purchased it and Zoom was one of the first things I was doing regularly on it) while Tumblr was the last thing I’ve wanted to “corrupt” my new IP address with. Very silly especially considering that I wrote my last Wordpress post on the new laptop.

So... I hereby resolve that my next Tumblr post will come from a much nicer computer where my browser won’t randomly crash when I’m in the middle of writing a post that I’ve forgotten to save as a draft, and that entering “www.t” in the address bar will soon no longer be meaningless over there.

#meta post #quirky irrational behavior

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j-k-notrowling · 5 years ago

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Hi there! Spoilers up front: this is a gratuitously long-winded “thank you,” not an Ask (also I’m 31 and don’t know how to Social Media so apologies if this is the wrong page/tab/link/widget).

--(oh actually it’s a blog post now because of course I can’t send an “Ask” this stupidly long see? wasn’t kidding about that Social Media thing...)--

I started writing my first book in the Fall of 2016. Before that I’d only written songs. One day I got an idea which didn’t fit within the usual rhymes or rhythms. I tried and tried, but kept on hitting a wall. In addition, I was fed up with the whole “business” of music—the fragile egos, the politics of being in a band, all that. One morning I sat down at my HP desktop computer (again...31) and opened up a blank Word document. I stared at it with murderous intent for a long time, but nothing happened. So I grabbed the nearest book off the shelf (Crash by J.G. Ballard), opened it, and began to type out the first paragraph, copying the sentences line by line. I wanted to see what it felt like — my clumsy fingers pecking at the keyboard, observing how the words fell into place with a musical cadence and tempo almost prophetic, as though the ink were destined to dry in this exact form upon the page, the machinery of its tumultuous birth and impeccable design skillfully concealed. I paused and looked out the window. There was a squirrel on the deck, I remember. And then I saw it. Not outside but inside my own head, behind my eyelids. The song, the one I’d been struggling to write, I saw that it could be a story. I saw it had a clear beginning, middle, and end. I saw a world of characters opening doors to other worlds, other stories, other characters. This was life-changing shit. Suddenly I was a little boy at my first baseball game, drinking my first ice-cold Coke, surrounded by old men chain-smoking Marlboro Reds and muttering dirty words I’d never heard before about the [EXPLETIVES DELETED] on the opposing team. I’d discovered a fire fueled by the psychic anarchy of its own discovery, a Moebius-strip of dramatic invention, a repository for all the pop-cultural turds floating around inside the cracked porcelain toilet bowl of my skull. I wrote prose every night after work. I never thought about what I was doing. I never once stopped to check word counts or page counts. I never thought about sticking to an outline, making sure my story adhered to a specific plot structure, none of that. I wrote like a man in love. Delirious, overheated teenage love. Wear-my-ill-fitting-letterman’s-jacket love (is this also A Thing™️ in Canada?). Stupid stupid stupid love, naive and hormonal and precious and retrospectively mortifying. I’d turn off the world, turn on the music, sit back and watch the words sashay straight into my lap. It took 2-3 months before the ruthless scourge known as Self Doubt farted in my private elevator. Am I doing this right? How many words are in a book, anyway? How many pages? How long is this going to take? Is this an effective way to impress women and/or get laid? Am I writing a novel or a novella? The fuck is “flash fiction”? Are you allowed to write actual books in Microsoft Word? Does it matter that my free trial version of Microsoft Word expires in 30 days? They’re bluffing, right? And so on. I compared my own writing with that of authors I admired; subsequently, I couldn’t get out of bed for a week. I watched 40+ hours of “Kitchen Nightmares” reruns (it’s. the. same. fucking. formula. every. single. episode.) and nursed my shame with bowl after bowl of strawberry ice cream. To think — I’d TOLD people about this fool’s errand, and sooner or later I’d have to show them precisely how awful a writer I was... I turned to the Internet for advice. At first, it seemed like a godsend. There was such a litany of knowledge, so many pro-tips and life hacks and proven formulas for success. This was how I stumbled across your channel. I found other channels which offered more straightforward “DO IT LIKE THIS YOU FUCKING IDIOT” instructions, but I still enjoyed yours the most. I lol-ed at your jokes. I remember a few videos where you spoke highly about All The Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr, which remains among the most achingly beautiful books I’ve ever read. Also you’re Canadian, and you guys just generally Human better than we (Americans) Human. ...and here my troubles began. See, the more I tried to adhere to word count goals, the more I tried to properly organize the scenes on my Scrivener™️ virtual cork board, the less I enjoyed the actual process of writing. So I tried other things, based upon other writers’ suggestions: cut the adverbs, write in the morning, write at night, write during your lunch break, write an outline, stick to the outline, write x amount of pages per day, write x number of hours per day, spend x amount of hours drafting and x amount of hours editing, etc. But nothing I tried made me feel confident in my writing. I started actively hating it, to be honest. I dreaded the cursor and the infinite white void. Then I would watch more writing videos and feel guilty about my lack of ambition, my inability to accomplish simple tasks. It’s only a few thousand words, dude — just get in there and do it. Eventually I would. I’d grumble and feel miserable and stay locked in my little writing dungeon all night, ignoring my friends’ texts and phone calls, and the next day I’d hate everything I wrote, trash it, and start over. Then, when I had no more writing left to hate, I started hating myself. The words in my head turned malignant, putrefied into spongy, black tumors. I’d spend all day at work consumed by thoughts and ideas and goals! goals! goals! for my book, then I’d come home and stare at a blinking cursor and wonder why I was such a worthless failure. I couldn’t write the way these other writers did, no matter what I tried. But I still wanted to write. Needed to, in that yearning, terrible way I suspect you understand. I don’t know why The Internet subconsciously invites us to flay ourselves before total strangers, but it does. So I will. Shit got Dark™️, Shaelin. I gained 50 pounds, started living like a hoarder, stopped hanging out with my friends, stopped leaving the house altogether. I kept the curtains closed so my neighbors wouldn’t see the piles of empty take-out boxes stacked up on the kitchen table. I traded the pleasures and contradictions and beguiling enigmas of women for the 24-hour neon distraction of cheap porno. My cat Maggie, basically the only friend I had during this time, got cancer. I watched her suffer and waste away because I couldn’t bear the thought of putting her to sleep and coming home alone to an empty, filthy house. Eventually she died and I hated myself even more for not being able to save her. I wore the same pair of pants for six months. I’d go to work and sit at my desk all day and do absolutely nothing (I was the accounting manager at a small company, technically my own “boss,” so I got away with this for a shocking, frankly heroic amount of time). Then I simply stopped going to work. And I kept torturing myself with those stupid goals and word counts, never happy with the end result, resigned to feel like a failure every day. I remember watching your “Spill the Tea” video back when it was initially posted. Watching it now is eerie, because you describe exactly what I was going through, what I was feeling. Like, to the “T” (see what I did there? #WordPlay #LitPuns101). I’d never experienced anxiety/depression before, so I didn’t really understand what was happening to me. Not that it mattered, because by that point the damage was done. I couldn’t recognize and isolate the real problem. I’d given up. Even though you said a lot of things in that video I desperately, desperately needed to hear, I didn’t listen. I didn’t want to listen to you, because you were one of Them™️. Your eyes were bright and your voice sounded friendly and encouraging, but your name wasn’t McCarthy or Pynchon or DeLillo or Nabokov. You were just a kid. What could you possibly know that I didn’t? In January of this year I called a local psychiatric hospital and told them I was planning to kill myself. I never harbored any true intentions of doing that, but I figured they’d offer me a nice three-week vacation in a padded cell. Considering the circumstances, it honestly seemed like a relief. I ended up quitting my job, selling my house, and moving back in with my parents 300 miles away. I started seeing a therapist once a week (still do, for the record). So far I’ve lost 30 pounds of the 50 pound surplus I acquired. I kept watching your videos, even though I was no longer in the market for writing advice (#JustHereForTheSnark). You kept me lol-ing through some bad days and weeks and months. I’d listen to you talk about problems with the writing community and nod my head like an old woman in church (#ShaelinSermons™️ #SheTeachesANDShePreaches), but I still hadn’t made the connection with my own issues. I swore off writing completely, went back to playing music. Cover songs in coffee shops and family restaurants. It was fun for awhile. I genuinely felt happier. But my story was still an old pebble poking around in my shoe...calling out, issuing playground taunts, drawing hairy cartoon dicks on my forehead while I slept. About a month ago I stared down another blank page, my first since experiencing that fun-sized nervous breakdown earlier this year. I closed my eyes and heard your voice in my head. “You can do whatever you want.” I had no goals, no arbitrary quotas to meet. I wrote a few lines, stopped, fixed a couple things I wasn’t satisfied with, and then went on with my day. I thought about what I’d written, sure, but I didn’t worry or spend the whole day stressing out. The next morning I read over what I’d done, and I didn’t hate it. I thought it was actually pretty good, funny and off-kilter and a little/lotta fucked up. So I sat down and wrote some more. Took some things out, re-worded stuff, dressed up the bones in silver and pearls. Addition and subtraction. Before I knew it, I’d finished a whole page. Then another. And then the hair on the back of my neck stood up, because I remembered: This is how it felt at the beginning. Back when I was young and love-struck and writing only to catch those moments of pure levitation, that devilish tickle, that rush of blood propelled by my own wild heart. It’s been a rough road, but I finally found what I’d lost. I figured out how to write again and enjoy it. And ultimately, the best writing advice I received didn’t come from McCarthy or Pynchon or DeLillo or Nabokov. It came from a young woman in another country with a camera and a nose ring and a big tapestry and bigger dreams which run parallel to my own. So thank you. Thank you for taking time out of your busy life and braving the Steaming Pile™️ that is The Internet to offer words of empathy and encouragement to complete strangers. Thank you for the wisdom you share. Thank you for being who you are. Know that tonight the stars shine brighter as a result. They do for me, at least. (Also I’m sincerely sorry about the absurd length of this “Ask” wherein no actual questions were posed and nothing substantial was communicated beyond a simple yet torturously delayed “thank you” kthxbye #longlivethenewtapestry

—Justin)

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northwestofinsanity · 4 years ago

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Activity Update -Again

So, home from my last 12 hour shift of the week, and I’m not on duty this weekend. Working on saving documents from my phone that decided to dive out of my pocket and go swimming in a parking lot puddle yesterday (which played out several events that should only happen in cartoons).

The phone is continuing to function well for a phone without a SIM card connecting it to service. It connects to Wi-Fi, plays videos through both speakers and headphones, etc. It could call 911 if I needed it to.

However, as I expected it might very well be, it IS on its death bed, and dying a slow-but-sure death. Almost everything is physically sound, until I get to trying the USB charging port, and that is where I can still plug my phone in, but it doesn't go in all the way. It can still charge, albeit slowly (and it will warn me that it is “charging slowly” on the lock screen instead of giving an estimated time to full charge), and it does not connect well enough for me to directly offload pictures onto a computer -or have the computer recognize it. (The computer knows something got plugged into it, but it can't read what it is). I am lucky enough to have all my photos and videos on the phone on Google photos, so I’m downloading the important ones I absolutely can't stand to lose (mainly shelter pets I’ll never see again, vet client pets and family pets, some of which recently passed), should my online backup get wiped out for whatever reason, and everything else important is thankfully on my tablet or computer. Any time I work on fan fics on my phone, I type in Gmail drafts so I can log in and copy it to my preferred writing devices, so this will NOT significantly impact my writing projects, thankfully. I haven't lost anything there.

Honestly, with as many times as I’ve dropped the damn thing without it breaking, it doesn't owe me any more after 3 and a half years. It wouldn't have even without water, and I was already planning to replace it in the next few months anyway -if I’d have preferred to under better circumstances (also, I made it through middle, high school, and college without so much as cracking a screen, so while I’ve done it now, I got a long way. My family and I are getting a laugh, because my mom managed to break 3 phones in 2018). So I’m saving everything while I still have the power to do it (and still have the ability to slowly add charge back). I have my computer for the weekend, so my Tumblr activity shouldn't be too affected the next few days. After that, my activity will depend on how quick I can figure out buying a replacement and getting it to me.

So yeah. Sucky situation, but all things considered, not terrible at all, and not something worth crying over (unlike when the old tablet crashed and I lost half my writing projects). End result is nothing that wasn't going to happen soon anyway. Aside from not having an instant calculator on hand to convert weights for exotic animals to different unit systems, or a way to call for help if (God forbid) an animal got loose in the parking lot for curbside, it’s not something I missed too much today. I’ll keep everyone posted when my weekday activity is back in order.

#random #insanitypost #update #the day after the hilariously stupid day that was yesterday #i had the sweetest cat today at work so I'm feeling good

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kennethherrerablog · 5 years ago

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Working Remotely: 7 Essential Productivity Tools

It was only a few years ago that people would gather around a conference table with a device like this in the middle:

That way an entire group of people could talk with others no matter where they were in the world.

The really fancy rooms even had monitors with video so everyone could see whoever they were calling.

The quality wasn’t always the best. Video feeds cut out. People inched closer to the phone in order to talk and they would still sound fuzzy.

Things have changed.

Now team members working remotely can effectively communicate with each other with just a laptop from a coffee shop. The sound and video quality are also top-notch.

And many other tools have come along so you don’t even need to dial in and use video to collaborate on things anymore.

Here are 7 key tools we use at IWT to run a multimillion-dollar business that works completely remotely with dozens of employees in 23 states and 6 countries.

NOTE: Here at IWT, we are big believers in working from home. In fact, our entire company works remotely.

That’s why I wrote an entire free Ultimate Guide to Working From Home to help anyone who wants to work remotely:

Convince their boss to let them telecommute

Find a new work from home job (and get hired for it)

Start freelancing online on the side (or go full-time doing it)

Or start an online business that allows them to work anywhere in the world

This blog post covers some of the essential tools, but I dive much deeper in my Ultimate Guide to Working From Home, so make sure you grab the free PDF.

7 essential productivity tools for working remotely

1. Zoom – Video Conferencing

Zoom is great way for everyone to have face-time together. We’ve run entire company meetings with dozens of employees, and there’s nothing better for effective communication than to see everyone, rather than just hearing voices and following along with presentation slides.

A basic account is free. If you have a bigger company, it’s worth investing in one of the paid plans.

Go to Zoom.us

2. Slack – Team Communication

Slack reduces the amount of internal emails in a company. You can direct-message team members. You can also set up channels by subject matter like tech or sales.

Channels are an easy way to organize conversations by team and projects. They ensure that only the relevant people see the message. Anyone who doesn’t need to be involved 100% of the time can drop in the channel to see the status.

This is also free to get started. Paid plans depend on the number of active users in your company.

Go to Slack.com

3. Trello – Project Management

Trello is a great tool for effective project management.

Here’s what a simple board for a writing team might look like:

Go to Trello.com

Any projects in the pipeline can go in the “unassigned” column. Then a project manager could assign a team to it and move it under “assigned.”

Once the project team starts working, it’ll move to the “drafting” stage. After it’s completed, it’ll be shepherded through the remaining three steps.

Managers can view a Trello board and get status updates and due dates on things without having to hound people for them.

4. Basecamp – Project Management

Basecamp has studied highly productive groups for 16 years and bundled the 6 core things they all do into an amazing product.

They found that effective teams take a record of every meeting. So Basecamp created message boards to make it easy to follow communication history. This is super helpful if someone needs to step in and get up to speed on things quickly.

They also found that productive teams don’t let questions linger. Their chat feature makes it easy for anyone to ask questions and get instant feedback.

And the study revealed that every great team has a leader who makes sure things are moving along. Which is why they created an automatic check-in to keep project managers up to date. Team members don’t have to create progress reports or anything like that.

To-do lists make it clear who is responsible for what and all the deadlines.

File storage makes everything available in one place, and it can act as a backup disk.

Finally, the central schedule keeps everyone up to date on major milestones, vacation schedules, and any other upcoming events that are important to know about. All these soft skills are even more critical with remote teams. And Basecamp makes them effortless.

Go to Basecamp.com

5. Headset – Must-Have Hardware

A headset is must have when dialing into Zoom. It blocks out any background noise from pets, screaming kids, or the landscapers outside. Having one will help you get through your meetings in peace.

6. Google Apps – Document Management

Just about everyone is familiar with Gmail, but we also use their Docs and Sheets apps. This eliminates the need for attachments. You just copy and paste a link and send it around on Slack or email, and everyone can view it without downloading anything.

The best part is that everything is backed up. If a team member’s computer crashes, everything will still be saved on Google Drive. This has been a real lifesaver at times.

Go to Google Apps

7. Email Scripts

A final key productivity tool for effective communication when working remotely is to have a vault of email scripts that you can use and tweak for any situation.

I have scripts on everything from giving meeting agendas to finessing tricky situations to asking for time off.

Enter your name and email below for instant access so you never again have to waste time writing these.

Working Remotely: 7 Essential Productivity Tools is a post from: I Will Teach You To Be Rich.

Working Remotely: 7 Essential Productivity Tools published first on https://justinbetreviews.tumblr.com/

0 notes

andrewdburton · 5 years ago

Text

Working Remotely: 7 Essential Productivity Tools

It was only a few years ago that people would gather around a conference table with a device like this in the middle:

That way an entire group of people could talk with others no matter where they were in the world.

The really fancy rooms even had monitors with video so everyone could see whoever they were calling.

The quality wasn’t always the best. Video feeds cut out. People inched closer to the phone in order to talk and they would still sound fuzzy.

Things have changed.

Now team members working remotely can effectively communicate with each other with just a laptop from a coffee shop. The sound and video quality are also top-notch.

And many other tools have come along so you don’t even need to dial in and use video to collaborate on things anymore.

Here are 7 key tools we use at IWT to run a multimillion-dollar business that works completely remotely with dozens of employees in 23 states and 6 countries.

NOTE: Here at IWT, we are big believers in working from home. In fact, our entire company works remotely.

That’s why I wrote an entire free Ultimate Guide to Working From Home to help anyone who wants to work remotely:

Convince their boss to let them telecommute

Find a new work from home job (and get hired for it)

Start freelancing online on the side (or go full-time doing it)

Or start an online business that allows them to work anywhere in the world

This blog post covers some of the essential tools, but I dive much deeper in my Ultimate Guide to Working From Home, so make sure you grab the free PDF.

7 essential productivity tools for working remotely

1. Zoom – Video Conferencing

A basic account is free. If you have a bigger company, it’s worth investing in one of the paid plans.

Go to Zoom.us

2. Slack – Team Communication

Slack reduces the amount of internal emails in a company. You can direct-message team members. You can also set up channels by subject matter like tech or sales.

This is also free to get started. Paid plans depend on the number of active users in your company.

Go to Slack.com

3. Trello – Project Management

Trello is a great tool for effective project management.

Here’s what a simple board for a writing team might look like:

Go to Trello.com

Any projects in the pipeline can go in the “unassigned” column. Then a project manager could assign a team to it and move it under “assigned.”

Once the project team starts working, it’ll move to the “drafting” stage. After it’s completed, it’ll be shepherded through the remaining three steps.

Managers can view a Trello board and get status updates and due dates on things without having to hound people for them.

4. Basecamp – Project Management

Basecamp has studied highly productive groups for 16 years and bundled the 6 core things they all do into an amazing product.

They also found that productive teams don’t let questions linger. Their chat feature makes it easy for anyone to ask questions and get instant feedback.

To-do lists make it clear who is responsible for what and all the deadlines.

File storage makes everything available in one place, and it can act as a backup disk.

Go to Basecamp.com

5. Headset – Must-Have Hardware

A headset is must have when dialing into Zoom. It blocks out any background noise from pets, screaming kids, or the landscapers outside. Having one will help you get through your meetings in peace.

6. Google Apps – Document Management

The best part is that everything is backed up. If a team member’s computer crashes, everything will still be saved on Google Drive. This has been a real lifesaver at times.

Go to Google Apps

7. Email Scripts

A final key productivity tool for effective communication when working remotely is to have a vault of email scripts that you can use and tweak for any situation.

I have scripts on everything from giving meeting agendas to finessing tricky situations to asking for time off.

Enter your name and email below for instant access so you never again have to waste time writing these.

Working Remotely: 7 Essential Productivity Tools is a post from: I Will Teach You To Be Rich.

from Finance https://www.iwillteachyoutoberich.com/blog/working-remotely-tools/ via http://www.rssmix.com/

0 notes

samuelfields · 5 years ago

Text

Working Remotely: 7 Essential Productivity Tools

It was only a few years ago that people would gather around a conference table with a device like this in the middle:

That way an entire group of people could talk with others no matter where they were in the world.

The really fancy rooms even had monitors with video so everyone could see whoever they were calling.

The quality wasn’t always the best. Video feeds cut out. People inched closer to the phone in order to talk and they would still sound fuzzy.

Things have changed.

Now team members working remotely can effectively communicate with each other with just a laptop from a coffee shop. The sound and video quality are also top-notch.

And many other tools have come along so you don’t even need to dial in and use video to collaborate on things anymore.

Here are 7 key tools we use at IWT to run a multimillion-dollar business that works completely remotely with dozens of employees in 23 states and 6 countries.

NOTE: Here at IWT, we are big believers in working from home. In fact, our entire company works remotely.

That’s why I wrote an entire free Ultimate Guide to Working From Home to help anyone who wants to work remotely:

Convince their boss to let them telecommute

Find a new work from home job (and get hired for it)

Start freelancing online on the side (or go full-time doing it)

Or start an online business that allows them to work anywhere in the world

This blog post covers some of the essential tools, but I dive much deeper in my Ultimate Guide to Working From Home, so make sure you grab the free PDF.

7 essential productivity tools for working remotely

1. Zoom – Video Conferencing

A basic account is free. If you have a bigger company, it’s worth investing in one of the paid plans.

Go to Zoom.us

2. Slack – Team Communication

Slack reduces the amount of internal emails in a company. You can direct-message team members. You can also set up channels by subject matter like tech or sales.

This is also free to get started. Paid plans depend on the number of active users in your company.

Go to Slack.com

3. Trello – Project Management

Trello is a great tool for effective project management.

Here’s what a simple board for a writing team might look like:

Go to Trello.com

Any projects in the pipeline can go in the “unassigned” column. Then a project manager could assign a team to it and move it under “assigned.”

Once the project team starts working, it’ll move to the “drafting” stage. After it’s completed, it’ll be shepherded through the remaining three steps.

Managers can view a Trello board and get status updates and due dates on things without having to hound people for them.

4. Basecamp – Project Management

Basecamp has studied highly productive groups for 16 years and bundled the 6 core things they all do into an amazing product.

They also found that productive teams don’t let questions linger. Their chat feature makes it easy for anyone to ask questions and get instant feedback.

To-do lists make it clear who is responsible for what and all the deadlines.

File storage makes everything available in one place, and it can act as a backup disk.

Go to Basecamp.com

5. Headset – Must-Have Hardware

A headset is must have when dialing into Zoom. It blocks out any background noise from pets, screaming kids, or the landscapers outside. Having one will help you get through your meetings in peace.

6. Google Apps – Document Management

The best part is that everything is backed up. If a team member’s computer crashes, everything will still be saved on Google Drive. This has been a real lifesaver at times.

Go to Google Apps

7. Email Scripts

A final key productivity tool for effective communication when working remotely is to have a vault of email scripts that you can use and tweak for any situation.

I have scripts on everything from giving meeting agendas to finessing tricky situations to asking for time off.

Enter your name and email below for instant access so you never again have to waste time writing these.

Working Remotely: 7 Essential Productivity Tools is a post from: I Will Teach You To Be Rich.

from Finance https://www.iwillteachyoutoberich.com/blog/working-remotely-tools/ via http://www.rssmix.com/

0 notes

mcjoelcain · 5 years ago

Text

Working Remotely: 7 Essential Productivity Tools

It was only a few years ago that people would gather around a conference table with a device like this in the middle:

That way an entire group of people could talk with others no matter where they were in the world.

The really fancy rooms even had monitors with video so everyone could see whoever they were calling.

The quality wasn’t always the best. Video feeds cut out. People inched closer to the phone in order to talk and they would still sound fuzzy.

Things have changed.

Now team members working remotely can effectively communicate with each other with just a laptop from a coffee shop. The sound and video quality are also top-notch.

And many other tools have come along so you don’t even need to dial in and use video to collaborate on things anymore.

Here are 7 key tools we use at IWT to run a multimillion-dollar business that works completely remotely with dozens of employees in 23 states and 6 countries.

NOTE: Here at IWT, we are big believers in working from home. In fact, our entire company works remotely.

That’s why I wrote an entire free Ultimate Guide to Working From Home to help anyone who wants to work remotely:

Convince their boss to let them telecommute

Find a new work from home job (and get hired for it)

Start freelancing online on the side (or go full-time doing it)

Or start an online business that allows them to work anywhere in the world

This blog post covers some of the essential tools, but I dive much deeper in my Ultimate Guide to Working From Home, so make sure you grab the free PDF.

7 essential productivity tools for working remotely

1. Zoom – Video Conferencing

A basic account is free. If you have a bigger company, it’s worth investing in one of the paid plans.

Go to Zoom.us

2. Slack – Team Communication

Slack reduces the amount of internal emails in a company. You can direct-message team members. You can also set up channels by subject matter like tech or sales.

This is also free to get started. Paid plans depend on the number of active users in your company.

Go to Slack.com

3. Trello – Project Management

Trello is a great tool for effective project management.

Here’s what a simple board for a writing team might look like:

Go to Trello.com

Any projects in the pipeline can go in the “unassigned” column. Then a project manager could assign a team to it and move it under “assigned.”

Once the project team starts working, it’ll move to the “drafting” stage. After it’s completed, it’ll be shepherded through the remaining three steps.

Managers can view a Trello board and get status updates and due dates on things without having to hound people for them.

4. Basecamp – Project Management

Basecamp has studied highly productive groups for 16 years and bundled the 6 core things they all do into an amazing product.

They also found that productive teams don’t let questions linger. Their chat feature makes it easy for anyone to ask questions and get instant feedback.

To-do lists make it clear who is responsible for what and all the deadlines.

File storage makes everything available in one place, and it can act as a backup disk.

Go to Basecamp.com

5. Headset – Must-Have Hardware

A headset is must have when dialing into Zoom. It blocks out any background noise from pets, screaming kids, or the landscapers outside. Having one will help you get through your meetings in peace.

6. Google Apps – Document Management

The best part is that everything is backed up. If a team member’s computer crashes, everything will still be saved on Google Drive. This has been a real lifesaver at times.

Go to Google Apps

7. Email Scripts

A final key productivity tool for effective communication when working remotely is to have a vault of email scripts that you can use and tweak for any situation.

I have scripts on everything from giving meeting agendas to finessing tricky situations to asking for time off.

Enter your name and email below for instant access so you never again have to waste time writing these.

Working Remotely: 7 Essential Productivity Tools is a post from: I Will Teach You To Be Rich.

from Money https://www.iwillteachyoutoberich.com/blog/working-remotely-tools/ via http://www.rssmix.com/

0 notes

paulckrueger · 5 years ago

Text

Working Remotely: 7 Essential Productivity Tools

It was only a few years ago that people would gather around a conference table with a device like this in the middle:

That way an entire group of people could talk with others no matter where they were in the world.

The really fancy rooms even had monitors with video so everyone could see whoever they were calling.

The quality wasn’t always the best. Video feeds cut out. People inched closer to the phone in order to talk and they would still sound fuzzy.

Things have changed.

Now team members working remotely can effectively communicate with each other with just a laptop from a coffee shop. The sound and video quality are also top-notch.

And many other tools have come along so you don’t even need to dial in and use video to collaborate on things anymore.

Here are 7 key tools we use at IWT to run a multimillion-dollar business that works completely remotely with dozens of employees in 23 states and 6 countries.

NOTE: Here at IWT, we are big believers in working from home. In fact, our entire company works remotely.

That’s why I wrote an entire free Ultimate Guide to Working From Home to help anyone who wants to work remotely:

Convince their boss to let them telecommute

Find a new work from home job (and get hired for it)

Start freelancing online on the side (or go full-time doing it)

Or start an online business that allows them to work anywhere in the world

This blog post covers some of the essential tools, but I dive much deeper in my Ultimate Guide to Working From Home, so make sure you grab the free PDF.

7 essential productivity tools for working remotely

1. Zoom – Video Conferencing

A basic account is free. If you have a bigger company, it’s worth investing in one of the paid plans.

Go to Zoom.us

2. Slack – Team Communication

Slack reduces the amount of internal emails in a company. You can direct-message team members. You can also set up channels by subject matter like tech or sales.

This is also free to get started. Paid plans depend on the number of active users in your company.

Go to Slack.com

3. Trello – Project Management

Trello is a great tool for effective project management.

Here’s what a simple board for a writing team might look like:

Go to Trello.com

Any projects in the pipeline can go in the “unassigned” column. Then a project manager could assign a team to it and move it under “assigned.”

Once the project team starts working, it’ll move to the “drafting” stage. After it’s completed, it’ll be shepherded through the remaining three steps.

Managers can view a Trello board and get status updates and due dates on things without having to hound people for them.

4. Basecamp – Project Management

Basecamp has studied highly productive groups for 16 years and bundled the 6 core things they all do into an amazing product.

They also found that productive teams don’t let questions linger. Their chat feature makes it easy for anyone to ask questions and get instant feedback.

To-do lists make it clear who is responsible for what and all the deadlines.

File storage makes everything available in one place, and it can act as a backup disk.

Go to Basecamp.com

5. Headset – Must-Have Hardware

A headset is must have when dialing into Zoom. It blocks out any background noise from pets, screaming kids, or the landscapers outside. Having one will help you get through your meetings in peace.

6. Google Apps – Document Management

The best part is that everything is backed up. If a team member’s computer crashes, everything will still be saved on Google Drive. This has been a real lifesaver at times.

Go to Google Apps

7. Email Scripts

A final key productivity tool for effective communication when working remotely is to have a vault of email scripts that you can use and tweak for any situation.

I have scripts on everything from giving meeting agendas to finessing tricky situations to asking for time off.

Enter your name and email below for instant access so you never again have to waste time writing these.

Working Remotely: 7 Essential Productivity Tools is a post from: I Will Teach You To Be Rich.

from Surety Bond Brokers? Business https://www.iwillteachyoutoberich.com/blog/working-remotely-tools/

0 notes

diabolickonpressofficial · 7 years ago

Text

How does a book get written?

So, if anyone cares: my first novel, Jackie and Craig, was released on October 30th, 2017. I ordered a pizza and drank, because why the hell not, right?

Truth be told, finally getting this book off the ground was less a Dionysiac riot of depravity and shameless debauchery (as most of my celebrations are) and more a long, guttural sigh of relief that lasted until.....well, until Yule rolled around and I just sorta forgot about it. I started illustrating my next book, a picture book that'll be released on January 20th, and I just sort of.....well, moved on.

I didn't know what else to do, really. I mean, somebody was kind enough to put up a TV Tropes page and I heard from around seven or eight people about it, but so far it's just been one more thing to do. Of course, that doesn't mean I'll stop - anyone who can be dissuaded from writing should be, in the words of one of my idols, Harlan Ellison - but in a lot of ways, I'm not sure where to go from here. I hear that this is a symptomatic of the early 20's, so at least I know I'm not alone in that (I hope), but for now all I can think to do regarding this particular book is talk about.....well, how this book came to be.

It started when I was sixteen. See, I had a feeling back then that this whole dark, gritty YA thing was about to become real big (oh, how I wish CreateSpace was around back then - or maybe not) so, to experiment, I wrote a short story that was to be the first chapter of an incredibly vicious, mean-spirited, Roald Dahl/Gremlins-type book about kids and monsters. It was called Diggin' Graves, and you might be able to read it at some point. I could've sworn I published it on this blog, but either I'm mistaken or blogger is a filthy goddamn liar.

I finished that story in spring and decided to sit on it, because I thought it was actually too dark to really be accessible to the preteens I was writing for and also because I loved the way it ended, and decided it should really come to a halt there. So I forgot about it, and then in my senior year of High School (easily one of the absolute worst years of my life, and I can't really say I've had a particularly good one for the past twenty-two) I decided to try again after a failed attempt at two different adult novels - both Clive Barkerish horror/fantasies, one of which is being reworked into a book I'll have out this Summer.

I've always loved the Conan stories, and it's no secret that I always imagined what would eventually become Jackie and Craig as a sort of YA Conan The Barbarian to Harry Potter's Lord of the Rings. (That wasn't originally my phrasing, but a friend who read the first novel-length version of JAC described it this way and it's just stuck since then). So when I sat down to try and create a compilation of stories for preteens, it was in that mold - two characters named Juniper and Gary (he changed names constantly, but this was his name at that point) adventured through the 'Suburban Wasteland' as homeless runaways, fighting chupacabras, lake monsters, sasquatch, feral tribes of other homeless kids, teenaged Lovecraftian Cultists (including a tribe of Girl Scouts who worshiped Bloody Mary as a deity) and othersuch fearsome critters and urban legends, all under the noses of oblivious, incompetent adults who usually got themselves slaughtered. A more Southern version of Will Watson (Big Willy, because dick jokes are always appropriate) told the tale, and it was all very weird, gory and over-the-top; very much in the vein of the Evil Dead movies. Hey - that's what I wanted to read in Middle School!

Though the stories were popular with some kids I knew and got me sent to the office a few times (and even suspended once!), there really wasn't much going for them outside time-killing fun. They were just sort of weird, random vignettes in a world where feral children and extra-dimensional monsters were the norm. One story involved that old Edgar Rice Burroughs standby, the arena battle (God, I'm a sucker for these - I even kick off my annual Star Wars Marathon with Attack of the Clones for that reason). Gary and Juniper slaughter a bunch of 'fearsome critters' (popular staples of lumberjack folklore, which you may or may not have known was a thing) over the course of a few days in a mud-pit in Florida, where of course a group of redneck teenagers have trapped them (and a Hodag, and a Tupilaq, etc.) before rising to the top of that tribe's heirarchy and setting the other children free. Crazy stuff, fun stuff......but not really fulfilling stuff, if you get what I mean. I took a shot at illustrating these stories, but the energy needed to pull this off combined with the stresses and depression I was going through kept me from ever making it beyond just a few conceptual creature drawings. I began work on an Hyborian Age-type essay about the world of Gary and Juniper, but not much ever came of it if I remember correctly. Can't see if I remember correctly, either; as the computer I had then is as dead as I will someday be. I still have a two or three printed or handwritten Gary and Juniper stories, but I'd have to go searching for them and retype them for this blog, something I won't have time for until, maybe, my next book is already done.

After I failed out of high school, I wound up moving to a new town in a fit of really severe stress and anxiety. Terrified of literally everything, I began having frantic, hellish panic attacks just before and after falling asleep for a few hours, as my insomnia tends to do to me. For about a week I had waves of really intensive nostalgia, during which I was overcome by such deep emotions I really didn't know what to do. So of course, I wrote about it.

From this experience came No Sleep 'Till Nu-Urth, as MCA had just died; still a sore spot for me, y'know. No Sleep 'Till Nu-Urth was posted to this blog as it was written, influenced by the books I enjoyed as a kid in school (Harry Potter, Bridge to Terabithia and The Outsiders amongst them) and the books I read outside of school (Barry Lyga, The Chronicles of Prydain, Conan, Edgar Rice Burroughs, and of course H.P. Lovecraft & pals, as should be self-evident from how tonally bizarre my work so often is). It featured Jackie-Lynn, a southern rebel, and Gary Steiger, a neurotic New Yorker, as they discovered a parallel universe where cryptids came from and made it their secret hangout. Their friends, two of whom made it to the final cut of Jackie and Craig, came with them on their adventures until the world was sabotaged by a bully named Timmy Bach; Gary died there trying to escape, and Jackie-Lynn was left to mourn him. A Spider-Goddess named Jykunne showed up, but she wasn't particularly prominent save for three key points in the story.

Besides being crushingly depressing, there wasn't much of a plot to it (I was nineteen and it was my first novel, cut me a break, alright?) and it lacked a great deal of the emotion I was seeking to encapsulate. About 25 percent of what was in No Sleep 'Till Nu-Urth survived to Jackie and Craig - mostly the early chapters, which I still feel capture my own childhood perfectly. Chupacabras, a staple since the Gary and Juniper stories, and the Maraw Sorceresses Talon, Screech and Fang show up, being holdovers from a Gary and Juniper story set in Nashville.....they were promising enough that after my next two books crashed and burned, I decided to return to it. From this we got a book twice as long as the finished version...Greg: Nightmare Hunter. Or G:NH for short.

If I were Stephen King, this would've been the published version you'd read today. Hell, I finally understand why the unstoppable titan George Lucas made all his best movies in the 70's - back then, producers and actors could rein him in when his storylines, exposition or dialogue got too out-of-hand. Nowadays, people like him can do literally anything they want to, and look what we got out of it - The Phantom Menace.

G:NH was all over the place, in every way. Anything I could come up with, I threw in. Talon, Screech and Fang had a major part in Greg and Jackie's crossing between this world and the other (still called Nu-Urth, after Jackie's affinity for misspelled Nu-Metal acts like KoRn and Staind). Any creature I wanted there, from ghosts tied to runestones that the Maraw set up like landmines to goddamn behemoths that slaughtered entire herds of deer. There was a subplot involving Timmy Bach (the world's few dozen Jackie and Craig fans now know him as Travis) starting a Jykunne Cult in exchange for advanced, interdimensional weaponry. He died a gruesome death in G:NH, slain by a domesticated chupacabra (not sure what I was thinking with that). It later turned out that Jykunne, in this book, was a sentient virus that inhabited and co-opted human and animal bodies into a hive mind. This was how it controlled its hordes, including Timmy and his cultists. So, kind of influenced by IT. There was actually a reference to IT in this draft, in that the kids called the junkyard the Barrens. About three or four fights took place here, if I remember correctly. As the junkyard appears only once in the final version, this reference was reduced to one line.

With G:NH, I knew there had to be a series - why? Because that's how all YA novels are nowadays, goddamnit, and that's the way it has to be. So I figured, after Greg died, we could just follow each character through a different part of Greg's (former) world. The spin-off would've followed Jackie, and included scenes I excised from G:NH. After I was done with G:NH, however, I was so sick to death of monsters and the occult that I wrote a screenplay to just get away from creature features for a little while - The Saga of Tabitha Irons. As scripts are so hard to sell, I wound up just using this to cool off before I finally put together Jackie and Craig, two years later. If a sequel to Jackie and Craig ever materializes, it's gonna be a repurposed version of that script; since I don't wanna be stuck in Jikungah writing about monsters for the next three years of my goddamn life, especially with other books I wanna write in the interim.

Which brings us to the final draft: Jackie and Craig. I had begun putting together a short story anthology in early 2017, which was to come out on Halloween to begin my career as an author. Not happy I'm consigned to self-publishing, but I've been exiled to society's gutters and wastelands enough in my short, ugly twenty-two years of life that I've gotten used to it by now. Eventually, though, I decided I wanted my first foray into the world of publishing to be a novel. And as I only had one even close to readable, this became......Jackie and Craig.

Jackie and Craig was the streamlined version of G:NH. I removed any creatures that slowed the book down, or that were just there to be creatively crazy, and put together a version of the story that progressed more smoothly. Craig, who was once Greg, Gary, and a few other names I considered, does not die at the end.......even though this is the logical conclusion of the story as far as I'm concerned and one hinted at all throughout every preceding novel-length version, in some way or another. Still edgy, but not so bad that I couldn't have handled it at thirteen or so. Hopefully, you or your kids can, too.

I cut it down to about half its length (the final version is about 90,000 words, I believe), and the journey to the other world was saved until the book's third act, where it had been a constant back-and-forth before. About twenty-five percent of JAC is preserved from Nu-Urth, while about forty to sixty percent is preserved from G:NH. The surviving elements of the Gary and Juniper stories - The Maraw Sorceresses, the Chupacabras, Portals to other worlds and the existence of Will and Amy - are, to me, deeply nostalgic and nice in-jokes, that show how far the series - and in a way, my writing and my life - has come the past six years, since I first wrote Diggin' Graves in the hope that it'd become a book I could sell and touch people's lives with.

At the time of this writing, a few dozen people have read Jackie and Craig. I am eternally grateful. This is, of course, only the beginning. My first picture book will be out on January 20th, and my aforementioned anthology will be released shortly after that - maybe March or April. If self-publishing is the route I have to take, then that's that. Robert E. Howard wouldn't be Robert E. Howard if he stopped at the first Conan story, and Lovecraft was nobody until near the end of his life. John Dies at the End was a print-on-demand title for the first ten years of its existence, and a public internet story for years before that. I should be grateful that my first novel was released at the tender young age of twenty-two, even if I feel as ancient as Time Itself on bad days. I've made a commitment to a more constant web presence this year, so you'll be seeing a lot more of me, my few dozen constant readers. I can only hope, now, that it was worth it for you.

I know it was sure as hell worth it for me.

0 notes