Wednesday, 26 June 2013

working mica3

I was accused of being a lesbian and being a lesbian was just as guilty as being the rapist.

I didn’t smoke, I just collapsed and ran.

I just wouldn’t stop running, seeing rainbows disappear and all until I’d end up running into a big purple door. I stood there pounding my own heart, trying to get my breath back, shaking, I was guilty, I could get prison because if I am a lesbian he gets it off, I’m a lesbian, I’m no one and they have enough proof, words of a man, no matter which.

Then it didn’t matter for a second and I stepped in, feeling my hair blow behind me, seeing women kiss and hold hands and men act like men. Men were with women, women were with women, men with men and people just sitting reading some colourful newspaper. Clothing was handed to me.

I was shaking.

I was wasting my life outside.

I started vomiting, I just bent in two and vomited, snot coming out of my mouth and I felt as if I was bleeding, silence breaking the music in my head as three females held me as I poured everything out until only coughs would come. I don’t recall the girls, maybe they left, I just recall talking to people, stories told by me in blur and I’d blame myself for being an ugly, disgusting lesbian, if there had been a window I would have collapsed outside, never holding the bars, not to end life, but to end the noise and go black into soothing covers where you will never recall anything.

Like they say to a rape victim here, giving water

“The worst is past you, besides you only sky.” The sky is covert in cobwebs this afternoon but then we have days when we have stars, but our place is the sky, you are surrounded by covers which mute out the noise of a man’s throat. A man which is outside, not a lovely young man which you can find here. Unfortunately I can’t think from the top of my head but in the end the other disgusting men blur out and you remember the candles you’d set on the river for flies to see.

I will close my mouth on heterosexuality when they will close theirs, but then, my hate is too wide that if I could I would just make them collapse, they are the ones who ruined my life and who sew women, they’re the ones who invade dreams and they are men who push you on the sidewalk and the myth of men being in a lower number so we have to cling onto them.

I’d kill the men if I’d kill the women who love and hunt themselves down for men, it’s like a lost child, we can do abortion and we have the rights then why don’t we have the rights to kill those who want our death? They become so useless and insignificant that I don’t see the point, sometimes they even match criminals in my eyes, if they could they would do the same my brother did. He’s not even my brother, even if we have the same blood, but then why does blood matter? Why does age matter?

“Why does age matter?” I ask Margaret as she fixes her hat to one side, looking at me and smiling while eating toast, women with their hands holding lace hanging from the ceiling, doing different tricks, making this like a circus with no tackiness which the circuses hold and with a discussion no clowns were allowed, it’s funny how we don’t have comedy here, but rather just sexual acts, even if people laugh in conversations or movies.

Laughter becomes like a conversation between individuals in the end, something which you can share with two.

“You know, sex with women is inspiring.” I say, recalling. “My first time I had sex was when I just walked in and it had been with a woman, who was claiming that she was wedding in this place and that I could be her bouquet.

She was lovely.

I recall her white dress and when I asked her, why does she have a white dress, all she did was answer, reaching out for my hand, that in the world, a white dress is supposed to show innocence of the bride and in China it’s a funeral colour, a snow which never melts, like death. Well, the point is, a wedding is a death of a beautiful woman, sure, she can come back from the dead, but she is stuck with a man for a legal amount of time.

So she said, she is celebrating her death, her death from patriarchy and society.

And I was her love for that night.”

“But just like this place has a thousand nights, so do we have a thousand loves here.” I smile at Margaret.

“Speaking of heterosexuals, they say that you should never start a relationship from sex, but rather earn it and then maybe end it. Post-break up sex, really?” Margaret jumps on the train, bashing heterosexuals. “Let’s celebrate!”

She calls a nude waitress, I wonder if it’s to make me jealous, but I’ve slept with as many women as she has in this place.

We order champagne with bubbles which fly onto the ceiling, turning into balloons and at night into stars, our sky still day.

“To a relationship from sex.” She says and we cling.

“Actually, back in the world, I read an article, suggesting that “we heterosexuals” should start our relationships from sex, because then we’ll know what to expect, as if love is only sex. Sex is only sex, it comes with love, but it’s just like kissing, kissing is kissing, it’s in the love drawer and that’s it.” I say as Margaret drinks.

“Heterosexuals are awful, is this a gay club?” She laughs.

“You can say that, in the end, when you realize you can’t reproduce here, heterosexuals lose their meaning, because let’s face it, they only want to have children, not even the children themselves, but just the fact that they will reproduce, as if they want the pregnancy and the birth, everything the government cared about, nothing beyond, when it becomes a life. So then everyone choses love in the end, which is homosexuality and there is no our sex is bad, well, I don’t know about the men, but I know about the petals of women. That’s all what I care about, really. But we’re not isolated, no, instead, we live together, just like I don’t have sex with my friend and her girlfriend, just because I don’t fancy them. I think the world killed any reason we should be pansexual, even if it’s a good suggestion and orientation. I don’t think either of us will ever want to mix and I’m grateful.” I smile, waving at Mitch and his new boyfriend Paul. “That’s how we stay, happy and so gay.”

They wave back and we keep our distance, yet our lawn is the same with our sky.


Looking at it now it kind of has the atmosphere of Sarah Water's Tipping The Velvet, I like Sarah Waters, but I don't like her too much if to be honest. I like reading her, but I know that it will be a good read and that's it, oh, and that it will have lesbians. But it's a good summer read, no, they are good, just not outstandingly amazing which leave you thinking.

There aren't that many good lesbian novels, well, I'm still raiding XD but ones which really inspired me and actually left me thinking and I would reread would be the Well of Loneliness, which everyone should read.

I was eager to post this chapter, so sorry if it ended short and took me a while, I'm still pretty knackered from my exams -.- it's been a while and I'm dead XD

anyway, I'm falling asleep

I stayed up watching the premiere of Rizzles

Oh and shameless advertisement, again. If you want a story in print, ask over there or  here :O

Thank you, good night and please request the next chapter :D


Monday, 24 June 2013

working mica2

“You need therapy.” It’s not the thought of curing the rapist, but instead of getting the blood to be rid of and the bruise to be torn off like a sticker as soon as possible. Back where I come from, domestic assault and him being my brother, made everything simple.

Talking in therapy, it just didn’t matter and no one wants to hear you open up anyway and then you come out as a lesbian and therapy is labelled on the wall of your mental hospital. It’s not fear of therapy, it’s fear of loss of whatever, the drugs are ok. Doesn’t matter how much pills I’d take, the pain would come back even if I’d have to drink it three times a day.

It was a mutual silence among the threads of my head and all the discussion about all the girls, how we would apply make-up to each other in a row and when the lipstick was hard to achieve a perfect kiss would be plastered among the divided chewing love gum.

People wouldn’t listen to me and I’d get irritated, in the end no one talked to my brother, who found me looking at a blonde girl in the street with lust and he had yanked me onto the bed, under the stars and they burned as he penetrated.

I was raped with bruises left, slowly migarting on my body. My body repressed the memories and of him having a wife made me scared for the woman, for all the sex they’d have.

No one would understand what would happen if they had children and they would be raped.

No one cared.

Everyone just hopes the bruises will heal on my cheek and they did once I united my hands in mid air, eyes closed, lips parted and a cock coming on my mouth and fingers teasing my insides. I liked sex besides getting raped. The feeling of paranoia still triggers me and being kicked out for thoughts allowed where I am allowed to think, I was kicked out of school, saying I need therapy for all the mentions to my brother I’d slip.

In the end I started going elsewhere, in my mind, grabbing more books to read, threatening my eyes with their vision. I’d be gone as they kicked me out for saying that the walls inside were crooked and would collapse. I never finished high school, if I’d go outside and say I was a stripper, I’d be a disgarce.

A stripper with money, I’d be a diva.

I am a diva, but it is society who decides how much money of yours they will count, sometimes they just stop halfway.

I never got to stab my brother anywhere and I know that there above in the clouds, there will be rape.

That’s why I got a cat and the orange walks around with one eye blinking around the club, hissing, holding celibacy, because

it’s a fucking cat.

, something where the cat will curl. It’ll nest

 with a teeth curled up

I’ll stroke the tooth, sperm bottled up within me, maybe I’d have children if I could, just because I’m a lesbian doesn’t mean the right woman won’t have the other chromosomes.

, something where the cat will curl. It’ll nest

 with a teeth curled up

It’s like the mouth glued by glue and when you open it you feel your lips stretching and everything dividing, being pulled, like being penetrated for the first time so roughly. For a long while I wouldn’t understand penetration, my first days were without sex, I wasn’t a virgin after rape so there was no interest in me to sell, instead I danced, my hair had to be kept long and I’d change wings and wigs. I ended up serving people drinks, both men and women. That’s when I saw homosexuality, women kissing in the club, there was no gay pride, it was just there, women with women were just like heterosexuality. What I liked it then that I had a man asking me to penetrate him, not that everyone was bisexual, penetration was equal, nothing gay about it.

It’s written in books and even with my poor knowledge I can imagine dildos being twosided made from leather or maybe wood. I think dildos were made from wood, they should’ve been.

Scenes from rape still come back to me, as he pinned me down,

homosexuality is just like any other sexuality.

“Bisexuals are fine as long as they come back to us.” He bit a chunk of an apple and then I see him spreading out my vagina, sticking his fingers inside and sliding everything at once. Fisting, still scares me. I haven’t been fisted ever since and if I feel a fourth finger inside, everyone has their boundaries, I just tell them a safeword if it’s too agressive for sex to be called sex, if we have whips upon us, I’d just say something weird like “Radclyffe Hall” and no fisting would come. If I had said Sarah Waters that on the other hand would have been fairly odd, she had fisted a woman in a novel.

It’s fascinating how the characters have sex with the author if you ask me, this is were my nervousness comes with anxiety spilling out, as all phrases are shattered and I might even be shy to say something like cock, not that I am scared but I can still see him smirking and never touching my anus, anal sex being something against heteronormativity, something close to homosexuality.

The thing about heteronormativity would be that all the relations you had with your friends, when you would argue and then never talk again was like sex, it was a relation deeper than you hold with your husbands, women. Get a dildo, fuck your friend, open your mind, accept lesbianism, you are a lesbian.

Every thrust was like a bite of the apple, staring at hazel eyes eating the apple across the room.

I hate men, they can’t love, at least those beyond the walls where I dance, the toilets and the rooms for sex still count, it doesn’t matter if I love men as well sometimes, when I can bend them and I see in their eyes that rape would mean their assholes spread out as well and can be raped by a man and a woman or a woman.

We can all be raped and it shouldn’t be laughed upon in a discussion, like it had been before as if everyone was holding torches in a lighted room, they are the ones who throw the shadows on the cloth.

I love this place, I don’t care who is a woman, who is a man, soon enough our gender will fade, all the dicks and vaginas will just become dancing genitalia and we will all be gay, homosexual, in love with ourselves, the others in the room.

Men outside are like roses when you give them sunlight and not electricty which blends here with the food, they rot too soon and are cheap and cliche, it’s not like I want jewerly. We don’t have any flowers inside her for one reason, we can’t get them from the outside and the only people who grew something were weed and then they called the police once they smoked it all. I recall how the smell circulated for the small while and we had the police go in as I sat on the floor. They checked us all and ended up staying knowing, that they would never find us again.

We’re not like Ibiza with a constant party, we just have food and even beds. You don’t really get tired here, more like if you want to crucify yourself to leave everything, but then that’s another thing. When you get bored of this place and are scared to leave to the outside.

We are just a box with nothing, just a bunch of deviants. I order a hot dog.

“Margaret.” I should say with a full mouth, now she has a black suit.

“Family would be the greatest betrayal of all. Being united with someone whose blood you don’t even share. I got a different blood group.” Margaret takes a bite from my hot dog. Such conversations occur so she hands me the hot dog back and I just put more mustard on my own, seeing shattered eyes of my brother, as I lick my fingers.

“Have you ever thought of leaving this place?” She asks taking off her blonde wig attached to the hat revealing shaved chocolate hair.

“Why? There is a projector.” I finish the hot dog. “We can have an American Wednesday if that’s what you’re looking for.”


“So what?” I ask.

“That means today is just a boring day?” She asks me, playing with the salt until she spills some on the floor and lets it hide under her wooden heel.

“More like a boring year.” I raise my hand to get some raspberry drink.

“How old are you?” Margaret asks me, running a hand through her hair and I see some salt getting glued to her hair before she puts on her wig and hat back again to match the other six.


I guess my inspirations for Working Mica are David Lynch specifically Twin Peaks with its Black Lodge (I keep seeing as the club a sort of version of the Black Lodge with sex obviously) and Mullholland Drive of course. I quite enjoy David Lynch but recently I've been more into Almodovar if to talk about directors as he deals more with sexuality and Todo Sobre Mi Madre is just beautiful and I went to the cinema to see his new movie.

In general I like toying with the whole idea of immortality which I have used in previous unpublished works and the club deals with such and time in general is a funny thing.

And obviously homophobia is discussed in this case with violence and rape which our world doesn't seem to avoid but rather praises oddly.

I've been writing Working Mica in bits and pieces over the past few months and this chapter is actually two smaller chapters as I like the feel of really long chapters, so this was done.

Hopefully the new chapter will be up soon as it is the next request, so keep checking every day, really :D

And since I've got a massive list, request to get the next chapter as soon as possible XD now that it's summer I have more time and inspiration XD ok, I always have inspiration, all I need is energy and time XD

Also what really gets me off Lynch sometimes is the love pairings, Twin Peaks was awful when it came to that, I was crawling up the wall in pain in season 1, while in Almodovar I ship everyone with everyone.

Also it hasn't been much of an influence lately, but I guess you surely can see Kunihiko Ikuhara everywhere XD Now, that I'm on an adventure to watch everything he has ever done XD oh, yes, and if he ships, he ships it so so hard. So I guess those three can be seen as an influence for Working Mica.

I just wrote this chapter quite a while ago, so yeah, I want to write some backstory and seems that I feel like writing... I should go write something... else XD yeah, like Working Mica 3 XD

ok, I'm off

Thank you and please request

Also if you want a shirt or vans or toms, I'm an artist as well, please don't hesitate to contact me and I can customize something if you're head over heels with Working Mica :D



working mica3

Saturday, 22 June 2013

Flower Dress

There are some girls which you go afterwards the next morning to ask the wrong bartender and maybe even try to describe as hard as you can how she looks like.

Her brown hair is wavy and I realize that I could do the same with my own hair, but mine looks just as straight if I get it out of the braid after a while and it doesn’t even hold a lot with the gel, but I still do the long blond braid regardless.

She wears a green floral dress and she looks lost, she looks at the window to see me and soon enough looks back, going downstairs, perhaps to the bathroom and it’s not a gay bar, so I don’t know how straight she is, but I still go inside past the men watching the repeat of football and I wait for my drink, still waiting for her to show up as I sip rum and coke. She doesn’t show up, so I head downstairs and I see a queue in the outside, people waiting politely for two girls to stop fucking and I wonder if one of them will be her, but it’s not. The girls finish as I finish my drink, maybe nothing is straight anymore.

The two butch girls walk out, hand in hand, maybe a mirror of us later, of course if I even manage to score. I’m way behind her and I can’t look at her. I wait as the line fades and everyone is back to the top.

She looks a bit like Helena Bonham-Carter but less edgy and with depression on her edges. I tap her shoulder, feeling odd and strange in my jeans, wishing my converse were heels and I wasn’t wearing a plain blazer, because I had just walked in because I had seen her. I’m pretty much broke, but I guess, it’s the fate of walking out when you barely have money, you still waste some, so I did.

She turns around.

She expected a man.

Maybe someone was going to meet her.

“Hey.” I say and I see a new man besides her.

She looks at me with a daiquiri in hand, confused, her boyfriend pleased at the hint of a threesome but I don’t want his unshaved genitals anywhere near my face, so I just turn around, I leave.

I don’t have any cigarettes to light up, so I cross to the Grassmarket, watching her turn into a spot and soon enough men start walking out and she remains on a bar stool with her possibly third daiquiri and I head back in.

I’m scared of touching her when I want to go right between her legs and fuck her hard with my fingers, since, I don’t have a purple goody bag on my shoulder. I just sit beside her and I can’t do anything, I spend more money on rum and coke and I can’t just bring myself to as low as just buying a shot of vodka for a quid and dragging it. So I just sit there.

It wasn’t her boyfriend or maybe she just left herself here, but surely not for me.

“Hey.” She said to me, her dress a bit drenched in sweat and I guess she might’ve been dancing but I wasn’t paying attention as everything was too blurry, it was just following all the blur dancing and whistling from a distance, while observing other drunk men and I’d just see who left and those who remained in a handful.

And then her lips are on mine and the bartender has seen too much so he leaves, to clean more shot glasses and to serve more morons tomorrow who will yell and spill peanuts, men in my head.

The Grassmarket seems awfully empty as it is after three and her hands go on my zipper and I can see how anyone can see us as her lips go for my neck, she pulls me onto the floor and I hear glass clinging from afar as her fingers go inside me already and I start breathing heavily, as she pulls my jeans down, taking off her dress and I see her lilac bra.

I start biting her breasts, pulling her bra off, the area between my legs swelling and wet as she keeps stroking my clit as well and I don’t feel uncomfortable on the wooden floor as she is on top of me and I am sucking her breasts as she starts moaning, her hands working on my pussy and it’s too hot, I keep licking her nipple, my hands shaking but I manage to pull her down and slam her against the nearest wall, my legs threading with hers and I painfully remove her fingers out of me and I start fucking her, our vaginas rubbing, as we start frenching and she removes my blazer and undoes my bra, our breasts massaging against each other. Once we get wet enough she pushes me back on the floor, licking me slowly, tasting me, stroking my clit, pushing her tongue inside me and I motion her with my hand to flip over and I start licking her pussy as well.

I stroke her butt cheeks as I keep eating her out, sucking her, my mind going blank, not understanding what is going on, as she starts getting spasms, she starts to scream and lick harder and then I start shaking harder, harder and harder, screaming, pushing a finger inside her as she is cumming, liquid filling my mouth and I can barely smile to the pleasure as we both squirt in each others mouth.

I keep stroking her pussy and her wet entrance as she keeps coming and my legs spread even further as I beg her to fuck me more with her fingers and we keep coming, our bodies tensing and it feels wonderful.

Then we both squirt as much as we can and then look at each other before giving one last lick and one last spasm, our bodies aching sweetly and I want her again, so I put her on the counter, the bartender understanding what the hell is going on and I eat her out again.

“You’ve got a hot ass.” She breaths and comes again in my mouth from my sole teasing tongue. After that she strokes me and I come, we keep scissoring another few orgasms until we actually get told to get the fuck out, ignoring the fact that we are naked and our cum practically covers the bar.

The walk to mines was nothing along with the beer cans and my unmade bed seemed made all of a sudden, made for sex and she fucks me with her fingers again.

My head is spinning as I cannot understand what is going on as she just tribs against me and I can’t stop

My head is spinning and her hair is stroking my own, my braid with my hairclip is long gone, I love sex all of a sudden and it becomes my essence as I handcuff her to my pillow, her hands still holding in tact and in the desired position as I take a dildo from the drawer, thanking that it had been washed randomly during a forced clean up over the phone and I blush thinking of my parents, but she takes all the regret of memories away with her leg around mine and I stick the dildo up her butt and she moans.

I don’t even know her name and I bite her neck harder as I take another dildo for myself and for her to enjoy up my ass.

We keep breathing into each other’s mouths, our tongues mixing and I don’t know which body is mine and whose tongue I’m licking, my body all numb from all the orgasms and I keep fucking her even if I can’t see anything anymore, my body screaming from all the pleasure and she thrusts again and all I see is her eyes barely open, our hands working and us coming.


Ok, I had no imagination left for the title XD I'm tiiiireeed XD I'm off to bed after writing this amazing sex scene and yeah XD it was sexy XD

request for more sexy as I want them to fuck more, yay :D

The actual original story was left on hiatus as I randomly did two girls and lost interest in it XD and this one was done by me randomly walking past a pub and seeing a girl XD tadah that's about it XD no I didn't have sex with the girl, I simply walked home with Callie xD and we like were spreading etsy XD Ok, I need sleep XD I've deleted like stuff about sex here XD ok, I need sleep, no, really I need sleep

Go buy my etsy shirts XD


Saturday, 15 June 2013


And Meg shoots herself in the head.

When she’s dead she tells me that she didn’t want to get caught.

I was walking behind her, actually becoming friends with her for once for standing up for gay people, even if Jack looks like he couldn’t care less at all, when she was talking to me in the canteen Jack just kept eating his soup, he said it wasn’t bad and apparently he seemed to eat a lot of soup and Meg had started to learn to do three more different types, so that when they move out she can feed him.

So I was walking behind them and then Meg turned around and told me.

“I need some spare cash.” And she grinned and I saw them walk into the closed Hollister and I was scared that the camera had caught me and that I’d also be in jail. I had just talked to her that one time, so I called the police and they had caught Meg with Jack and Meg had shot herself, saying that she doesn’t want to get caught.

So Jack would be taken out and I would try to make it in, as they leave Meg’s body in the store, no one shopping with no tacky teenagers walking naked to attract both gay and straight men. It then makes sense how Jack has fancy shoes, which Alex Turner had worn on stage, how Meg has all the rare vinyls, how she has the LV bags, it occurs to me then that they steal as I walk near the police station, Meg avoiding my thoughts, rather her face and I can see blood everywhere, I can see her shooting herself.

And even if I try I can’t get in, where they keep her body.

I go and sleepover at the police station with Jamie, with all our clothes thrown around, I feel as if now we are in the Hollister and I start making out with Jamie, feeling that I am behind the bars, like I should be, if I would get caught as Meg would do a glamorous escape with her hair flowing in pig tails, riding, waving her hands, stretching her hands behind her, sun making her smile, but then maybe that’s how she is now, in heaven, alone, because she’d be the only there, with one only sin, stealing. I’m not even sure she’d wait for Jack, but she’d make soup for him. Meg’d lay down her pretty head on the table and sleep, the soup never going cold.

Maybe then, after I make out with Jamie and let him penetrate me, as police go in that small cubicle, I see myself stroking her hair, my black mixing with hers dyed as her eyes raise to see me and the soup is gone, as it is not for me.

I take the same gun, it’s to the same head and I shoot myself, not to get caught, Jamie left with Jack, the men left behind, something we don’t need in a heaven.


I actually had a weird dream like that, obviously I've edited my bits, but the stealing Hollister and shooting not to get caught and I was the one reporting, yeah, that's the dream O_o it was pretty bizarre but I've had this dream a few days ago and I've been carrying it around, I was thinking to use it for the Jonny/Thom. But I've ended up using something different for that one and I think Alison/Meg turned out great :D

Unfortunately or fortunately it's a one shot :)

So if you want it on print with other stories please feel free to request :D :D :D


Friday, 14 June 2013


Basically I've been wondering about opening a shop and if to think of it, I've always wanted to, but I'm pretty much discouraged to have an actual shop shop.

And this is when we should thank Etsy :D

Before you say where's the fiction...
















Thursday, 13 June 2013


The gay bars are small on a weekday but that was when Thom lured me in after shaving my head, saying that I look more gay with less hair, the clipper vibrating against my head, making me feel uncomfortable as I see all the hair go down, revealing my eyes, making me open to the public, making me feel naked as if balloons are behind me, tied to my back, dragging attention.

We walk into the gay bar and it feels real with women kissing and men leaning down to kiss other men, it feels natural and real unlike men and women who don’t know what they’re doing, all of sudden the norm feels weird and a pervertion with tacky music blasting from speakers and no one on the dance floor.

Thom grabs me and starts doing weird dances by himself as I grab some bad cocktail for myself and a mojito for Thom, forgetting what he said he’d drink, but I get nervous and I still get a few women check me out in a gay bar, but then maybe they think I’m an ftm which I never understood, how can a ftm be a lesbian? Why are lesbians attracted to ftms? Thom seems to dance with another man and it feels weird, letting my emotions open up and then Thom starts dancing with another woman, people actually are joining in and Thom is photobombing them and I see him wave at me. I leave the drink to get spiked as if we are in Brazil and I leave to Thom, taking his guiding hand, Thom says that I’m off sale to a woman and on sale for the guy. I guess for Thomas gender is blind with him being somewhere between pansexual and bisexual, while I am more strict even if this may be the first time on an actual gay dance floor, you don’t feel the love, you don’t even feel the sweat because anyone is barely dancing, but once a girl puts her hand on my butt, I leave, knowing that I’d get the same treatment in any other bar.


Feel free to request more chapters!


Saturday, 8 June 2013

High Addiction 3

We come back, with our faces blank and while we wait for the food to be served she just squeezes my hand which could also be seen as a friendly gesture. In the end Dita chooses fish, I make a face at it, as Dita peels the skin off with her knife and I choose the vegetarian option, hoping no milk is involved in it and it is pretty much vegan.

“It is vegan?” I ask the stewardess to which she looks at me like a person with a country full of meat and poverty would look like.

“Vegetarian.” And she walks away. I sulk and eat my rice with random vegetables scattered over it, I’ll puke anyway if I end up eating chicken. Dita sees my hunger and gives me her bun. It takes ages for them to take away the stinky fish and Dita tries to get rid of the smell with a small perfume bottle, which makes me laugh and her smile. We share her Coke and then a tea each, hers with milk.

“It surprises me how a lot of women who have sex with women date men instead.” I say trying to strike up a rather risky conversation, Dita on the other hand starts fiddling with her ring again. I’m still tense from my previous exams and summer barely even starting stroking my hair.

“I do that. Society. I’m scared.” There’s no point in hiding as we are both strangers and so far we have been doing what Dita wants and I’m underage. “Plus, you’re used to men, well I’m used to men. So you sugarcoat it with women.”

Dita just shrugs, sipping her tea and then wiping her lip with a napkin.

“I quit school. I couldn’t handle learning algebra.” I say, knowing that I will be simply flying to a friend to flee everything, so I feel that even Dita can judge me. Neither of us face society, I don’t face it of the fear of having a stamp on my face saying clerk and office beside each other. My father made a fuss that he can’t stand people who don’t look at an office job properly, but boring people try to make our world gray, to which my mother pushed me, relieved that I was going to a male friend, I didn’t have to mention that we are both gay and not attracted, even acting as beards to each other to some extent. “I am closeted to my parents, but I still don’t sleep with men.”

Dita just leaves to the bathroom.

She comes back, clutching her wrist, massaging it.

“I’m not attracted to men. I mean, all the thought that they should do romance with the girl to get a shag is wrong. I guess it reminds me that I am straight sometimes.” Dita smiles. “I guess I am fluid sometimes, I think I am until I see the contrast I have with women and when I see how bored other women are and how they seek comfort in other ladies, even platonically just as friends. I think that’s the point, there are no heterosexuals. There are just good liars. I’ve had a bi guy once but he left me for another guy, so yeah. That was good sex, I could actually get near his butthole.” She laughs.

I still don’t understand why women go for men and vice-versa.

I lean back, trying to forget her even if she’s besides me and I still feel the flow of energy over the last exams I had to take, anxiety taking over and my body still aches, energy flowing out of me, I ended up drawing in three sketchbooks before I left anxious about the trip as well and knowing Jamie’s advice, I’ll even be worse when I arrive and so much time will be on my hands, maybe I’ll even fuck every single girl in London since Jamie is doing the same thing with his own gender.

I start tapping patterns on my window, as Dita tries to sleep, when the stewardess go by I sneak a kiss at her lips and start making out as she puts her hands in my hair, everyone is sleeping and the windows are closed, we’re the last seats and maybe the flight attendants are drugged just like in Almodovar. I start making out with her, my hand going down to pull her clit, but the presence of heterosexuals keeps paralyzing me while anxiety keeps telling me to soak my fingers in her cum. 

Saturday, 1 June 2013

She drains the sun.5

“Boyology a teen girl’s crush course on all things boy.” Karen says and actually starts tearing all the pages she can from the book, her eyes cold, lip in a angry snarl, quickly glancing at me before we both get kicked out for wrecking a book and Karen says that she won’t pay for anything heteronormative. We pay anyway while buying The Well Of Loneliness, she also grabs the Advocate, Curve and Diva, irritated.

She comments on Diva being blind to trans women but still reads it, taking out wafers, her mouth open and reading like that in the gardens. I could only nod yesterday, saying that Karen was doing everything in her defense as we were allowed to smoke, Karen crying, actually pissed at being blamed for being a lesbian, but she still was violent towards the woman, maybe her first killing was different, maybe she had an actual knife to her throat, but this time she was burying someone alive with a shovel, even leaving the shovel besides her as she waits for the wimping to stop, to make sure the woman is dead.

What made me stop during the interview was that Karen only killed women, but then men didn’t even exist in her book.

The two men playing american football caught my eye from being used to try and keep my eyes on them and the guy playing football with beer ridiculous.

Men didn’t exist, they didn’t even reflect in her sunglasses, they never touched her hair and the devil never touched Karen, she would avoid the devil which were men, instead she’d go for the recent fallen angels, ignoring those who went to hell ages ago.

“Y’know I had a boyfriend.” Karen says, lighting a cigarette, now taking off her glasses and watching how the football lands in the middle of the grass for her with seagull walking around thinking if it’s worth to mate with it before the blokes get back to it, fiddling with their own actions, shirts loosen as their thoughts and they take it in the end.

“I killed him too.” Karen laughs, putting her sunglasses back on. “Fucking bastard cheated on me and fucking hell, sex ached, I told him, that it fucking aches and he told me to just deal with it. Asshole.”

She exhales.

“I still wonder how we are all bisexual, supposedly. I mean, are you attracted to men?” I look at the men and their penises freak me out. Karen continues. “It’s not the penis, it’s how they use them. One of the best sex I’ve had was with a trans woman, found another girl, oh well.”

I actually wonder. I actually wonder.

“I got a few years. I proved rape. I proved a lot of things.” She chews on the tip of her cigarette. “Asshole. Feels like he comes back from the dead sometimes, with all that curly hair and smile, pressing my lips against his. Until you realize how bad men are you keep men on your mind, it’s... awful.”

Karen starts packing her bags until she gets hit by the football, her lipstick smudged and left to decay on the ball. She puts in on the grass, run backwards, arms spread out and kicks the ball hard, reaching the guys playing football so that they mix balls and we actually leave, leaving manhood behind, Karen lighting another cigarette and she feels like an acoustic guitar again, something prude about her silence.

“I understand sometimes it’s hard to think, it’s like cracking a shell open, but killing the thought inside it, so that it will bleed. And then, you actually describe what happened.” Karen smiles. “I know. I shouldn’t think about men and sometimes I just stop to think what if I am bisexual, but I’m not, but the thought still terrifies me because everything I feel towards men is what a heterosexual woman feels like, rape and violence and fear. So how come I’m not straight then? Because I’m not. Because I have a choice and you are born your sexuality, but still, a person is attracted to people. A lesbian can fall in love with a man, obviously she won’t, because she is not dumb. But a gay man with a woman, yeah. But then... I lost my thought.”

I laugh.

“But we are forgetting that the point of being gay is falling for people, rather than their genitals, the only division is some are women some are men on the inside. Some don’t know they are women, some don’t know they are men, because society is a fucking cunt. Assholes. If I could stab more people I’d stab every single motherfucking cunt who doesn’t think I don’t have the rights to marry a woman they would rape.” Karen stops. “Heterosexuality is rape, I mean sure, maybe it had meaning before, but now, there’s nothing left it’s like a used condom, you know it won’t protect you, but you’re a dickhead so you just use it again, knowing it will rip. At least Jack, the guy I was dating, was bi. Only thing which attracted me, I listened to him talk how he found men attractive and I would just sit there, listening, having the whole side of the coin flip over, hear about real men who care and everything, sure he was abusive, but I guess he was just coming out. He cheated on me and when I killed him, he asked about this guy who came looking for him, dragging Jack’s guitar. I told him and he listened. He agreed there’s no need to put a gay person behind bars, heteronormative crimes shouldn’t even be looked at. Every revolution needs victims. Someone falls under the tank, but you still get independence. Some people aren’t just fated to see what’s above the tank, just what’s above the clouds.”


Karen in this story is one of my favourite creations and she even shines harder than anything else in the story, she is the story. She's very radical and very loud in her opinions, which I may share, but surely would not act upon and etc. Karen shares my thoughts like every other character I've ever done. I really love Karen :3

I still get a bit scared of her sometimes XD she's pretty violent and yes, she should be sentenced and why isn't she xD but then that's the point. It all depends on each case really, she actually had one full homophobic incident with self defence so yeah, buuut no spoilers :P

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it and I know they haven't been having sex lately D: go do stuff, women D: XD

So feel free to request and thank you :3