Thursday, 30 October 2014


It’s funny how in a few days you can gain confidence again and feel entirely different, even if the surroundings-, but then even the surroundings glide.

And you can also get heartbroken even if you’ve never dated. But the confidence remained, because there was something, because now I’ve got the guts to admit, even if I didn’t see your eyes.

I am the melon of my feelings.

Someone is picture perfect.

Someone is a deja vu.

I never realized how much of a reserved person I am, until I realized that I don’t speak of it, there are too many things I don’t speak about. And maybe that’s why people presume I have no fear, because when no words are said is when the brightest colours are used and all of a sudden me chewing the canteen food becomes more majestic. And that’s why he seems more attractive

I wonder if you ask the dead enough, would they appear?

Lately I’ve been elevated and I know it feels like love, but if there’s no love, how come a distant feeling is compared to such?

I think if I were to somehow decide that I’ve been tipped over the edge that life’s colours are far too blurred and that I decided that if I would want to see the waters get drained slowly then I would have anger as the last passion, maybe if to choose something cliche I would either just slit myself open or grab some xanax, diazepam, what is it that you mix in the end? And I would listen to Monkey 23 just to have a fitting ending and hopefully I’ll be dead by the end of the song, in lukewarm water to pull me under because that’s how the wrong love feels like and 

It’s scarring when you realize that you’re not breathing and when in sleep you compare a new love to drowning, it’s scary just because you haven’t seen the other’s dice roll.

I think the rift begins when someone suggests you anything, even an apple and you say that you’re allergic to apples, so you shake your head because in the span of a year you’ve stopped eating said apples and talking to said person. Therefor the apple is a reminder that you’ve changed and they’re not aware of it. Sometimes it’s just bodies of people even mentioned over the phone, cord in hand and awkward questions to show sympathy, like are you getting hormones and the suffice nod is not suffice. The only one who could’ve heard was tracing his nails on the wall, waiting with the dial being the national anthem of prison. 

“Your hair is dyed too pitch black.” I say to him and his hazel eyes are upon me and I’m questioned by said parent on the other line. But the other inmate just gets a reply on the phone and that’s when I hastily leave, thinking of the cheap black dye which seems the only which was snuck in with yesterday’s cigarettes. 

I wonder if his silence will overmatch mine, we stay quiet for a few days and right an hour after the shower of the n-th day, hair still damp and his to be washed I mutter it again, the dye sticking to my eyes and he pushes me against the wall, both silences acting in favor until his words are formed in two bigger than us guys who stand behind him as his hands are around my neck and my breath is held for me, as I close my eyes, counting, my body slowly giving on, yet begging for a cough and the breath is met with an officer pulling the dyed hair man away.

“Cunt!” I yell at him and I just get hissed by other surrounding men, my ears knocked out by their mixed silence and aggressive shouting my mind muffled as the dyed hair man points at his throat again. 

I’ve still been in the weirdest of moods at night, sleeping, tucked in and feeling the slow winter cold approaching as the heating season barely starts and when the morning rinses everyone’s eyes it’s as if I’ve been up all night and shit breakfast just makes it seem more surreal, the meaningless of life becoming more monotone as there is constant struggle from everyone to devaluate us because in society openly killing someone is a sin which has to be paid, regardless of circumstances. 

And I wish I had no hope left.

The sadness of love washes over more often than tenderness because fear is the catalyst of all love disasters and endeavors. 

The cult of the world and it’s current fascists is far too strong, people think if the right blood flows in you with the right pearls tucked in gold, you’re fine. If I cared I would’ve killed such illusions, but killing someone next to the stranger on the street becomes ironic because no one notices until they’re dead and even then, I’m the one getting the pearls only tucked in silver.

No love stories are about trans people. 

I think he sits in front of me in the canteen and I’ve noticed him discard the meat from his tray every single time and I wonder how long will his starvation cure his belief. It seems ironic that you put something above when you already discard life. 

I want to dissolve as the sugar and in the night when everyone snacks some sleep right between two and four I hear the faint footsteps and I just solely allow myself to keep thinking until I get the hands around my neck and I try to sit up but instead he pushes me back and eyes adjusted to his silhouette already, I can’t see his features just how he is and he’s a bit frightening and I gasp as he tightens the grip.

Death can be sexual with the flashing fear.

It starts as a numb pain, springing further like a bullet, body giving in again and soon he lets go, as we hear more footsteps and all he does is push himself lower and the footsteps fade as I just hold the cough, my breath coming in harsh gasps and soon enough he pushes himself away-

killing me would just give him more years and that’s when he pauses, my body aches from lack of suffocation and touch. I massage my neck and just dig in back to the pillow, swings and mood are a roller coaster because you’re fed to dread being alone.

Does age makes us more bitter because we have bitter souurindings? So then it’s an endless bitter machine. I cough and I wake up the roommate near me who spends time just reading whatever they find in the library and their decision choice isn’t better, grabbing alphabetically whatever there is on the fiction section, this week it’s the letter O. I wonder if it’ll make them paranoid and how much more paranoid can you get in prison from reading Orwell?

When you wank in a cubicle, you’ve got the luck that someone else might be in the next one, since showers is a bit less personal with everyone peeking and screaming. Cubicles are less popular and as the days gather like rain water I start raiding through the newspapers, showing how evidant of a citizen I am and nearly each headline has a face I have seen and he starts showing up with all evidence covered, that all the murders are tracked and never confessed like my own. 

Love is twisted and it’s love once you admit it. 

Love becomes noise because you don’t know why it harms and what makes you settle with your own insanity.


I have far too much anxiety, because Nanowrimo is approaching and I've decided to do To Miles because all the new ideas I have I have to instantly write them down, I dunno I can't keep them in my head long, the characters start talking to me, the events start unfolding. I can't really keep ideas stored, I have too many and that's why I have so many started stories and eventually the chapters build up in my head and other stories get updated and sometimes I just binge to the very end. So yeah, I dunno. And anxiety doesn't help it, like choosing what the fuck to post. I also have a constant fear of a story not getting liked or a chapter and it just follows me. And in general I haven't been in the best mental places of all with anxiety firing and depression dunking me in. 

So it's always a constant struggle and I dunno, I just post it out and sometimes I have full stories written and I get terrified to post it, so yeah.

And regarding this story to be honest, it's awfully rough and I still enjoy it. I've been called a hypocrite recently, so that was… lovely. And I always hate myself so there's no fucking need to make me hate myself more, trust me. Even if I have ideas in the back of my head who it was. I cut off people because I frankly hate people, so I'm in this constant circle of hating people and wanting people to read me. It's fucked up, I'm fucked up and anxious. 

So the whole story is quite rough because I didn't even properly decide on the character's names (and being vulnerable becomes a question since I've been ridiculed for my openness and then the question arises again how much am I even valued?) 

In general I've been bugging myself for not writing enough fiction and trans characters, so I got quite excited making the main character trans and in general I got really angry at Orange is the New Black being another transphobic show and luring people in by saying that Laverne Cox is a main character when she no longer isn't. And yeah, I'll just keep silent on the other trans characters.

I was in a weird mood days ago and I was just writing down the rough thoughts so this chapter was nearly built sentence by sentence. And I like the whole obscurity of the prison and how it's non-linear as well and how messy it is. Also I'm happy to go back to writing about different mental health illnesses. 

The new photo of Jamie in Scarfo surfaced and the whole super pitch black hair inspired to give the second character the same tone and I just mused for a bit and made the character vegan as well. I know, I'm too inspired.

I hope you enjoyed it, please tell me if you did.

And I'll explain the title as the time comes. Sorry I'm quite anxious and I wrote everything in the story, really.



Monday, 27 October 2014

let's make straight offensive since they're such bigots 6

Once we head back to his, he puts Weekend on instantly and we keep watching it, apart, it feels lighter, knowing the feelings, but the question still remains. 

“Do you think he’ll fuck me on the first date?” I narrow my eyes at him.

“What?” I ask, jerking my head. 

“What? I wanna get fucked like that.” I just shrug and Jamie rolls his eyes. “C’mon, anal is amazing.”

I just keep shrugging as Russell is now blowing Glen and I wonder if he does it on a banana like the director said or if they went cheeky, I always think they did. Jamie keeps staring at me. 

“What?!” I exclaim.

“You never fingered yourself there, have you?” He pauses. “Have you even wanked?”

“Of course, I’ve wanked, you asshole. It’s just... I’ve never tried anal. Why would I? I’m not the one getting some dude fucking my ass tonight.” I pause. “Or fucking his.”

Jamie stated he’d be vers. 

“Still, you never did?”

“No?!” I feel a bit red saying this.

“Fucking hell, Mosshart, do it.”

“Do what?” My heart is racing. 

“You don’t know what you’re missing!” The conversation is flowing fast. 

“Jesus, even do it on my bed, I don’t care. You’re missing out.” I get excited. I hide my face between my hands, laughing and I feel like crying. He will fuck Jack. Jamie takes my hands away from my face. He’s breathing on me. “Alison.”

I raise my eyes. 

“Look, just that I think you’ll like it, that’s all. It’s a new sexual act for you. Sorry. Look, I’m gay, I don’t care, I can even help if needed.” We don’t know what we are saying. I flip him off. We keep watching. Fine. Fine.

I take off my jeans. 

“Is it that good?” I ask. He nods, saying a yes and he tries not to look at me undress, as I go on his bed. We’re fucked. He throws a bottle of lube at me.

“Trust me.” I breathe harder and I enter a finger and I moan, Jamie looks behind, my legs spread out. What are we now? Friends with benefits? He keeps watching me and I watch him bite his lips. I insert a second, rolling my eyes, sticking them deeper. I keep watching him and I know he’s turned on. This is so fucked. He’s my best friend. 

“C-can you help?” I breathe and he takes my fingers out slowly as he inserts his own, it feels better and I moan harder, he watches me a while before putting his mouth on me and I moan harder. He strokes my skin under my t-shirt slowly, letting his hand travel up to my nipple and I feel him pull it, a faster stroke and suck

“FUCK” And I come, in his mouth, his cheeks flushed. He gives one last shy lick. Shit, I came too fast and I’m still shivering. Jamie licks his lips off. 

“We just had sex.” I state.

“I know.” And he sits on the egde of the bed. 

“Can I-?”

“Please don’t.” He looks at the watch on the bedside table. It’s still two hours, but he still dresses up and I don’t say anything. I start dressing up myself. We don’t look at each other and it’s like a knife. 

I love you, Jamie.

My mind is filled with you.

But I can’t say it and I don’t. And the movie is paused on the last sex scene, before Glen leaves and so do we.


Ironically I watched or rather rewatched I Hate The Way You Love Today. I've been in awfully weird moods, so I just grabbed the laptop and I just told Callie, hey, I wanna rewatch I Hate The Way You Love (frankly I just wanted to fangirl over the small kiss they have and just narrow eyes at the whole thing and recall how they say they never dated) and I've been depressed today and in general my mood takes me to weird places, but in general I feel elevated and I've been using that in this… fiction piece I've been doing, because my emotions are overflowing so I'm using that there, I'm spoiling the backstory for that thing, anyway, I know this… backstory becomes even more like a journal, at least I see it, kind of… the mindset at the day I post and whilst I was writing it but the main thing should be told

I should've written a chapter of Gandalf's Inhaler for this… but



So yeah, but that's big big news and I've been grinning ever since and proud of my own damned self. 

Ok, back to the story xD

I'm still fucking proud of myself though xD

So yeah, in general love is quite a funny thing and I was comparing it to elevation in my head and this backstory was going to be started off from that but then… it kind of shifted and I wrote for the fiction thing, in general I dunno… I feel much lighter and I like it, even if I can't really shake off my depression or anxiety, I'm still lighter and I dunno… in a long time I actually love myself to some extent which is new.

Regarding love, I guess it's quite complex because I'm polyamorous so of course it's been empty on one half and pretty much until you get a pure solid ground, you're always questioning yourself like am I fucking good enough, what did that action mean, hold it, I swear this makes sense, this is a love story, so in general if I'm fucking posting a more love-centered story then I should be talking about love. And I do write about different love. So it really depends what kind of love I am writing about and which person which I love or loved should I think of, like PDD is pretty much me doing a yelling fest, actually I have a lot of yelling fests, but then break ups are ugly shit and for once I was the one left frustrated and angry rather than bawling my heart out. So… that takes it's own shelf of "inspiring" things. Then I dunno, I guess I just see them lately as more of a… star couple in my stories because they literally crawled out of me fucking bending over in laughter of Jamie being a captain in the USN, but I always pretty much steal Callie to myself as I write Alex and Jamie in To Miles. And some just get inspired by deja vu, random crushes. But I guess the third main category like here I guess, falls into those "fuck, I'm terrified and I have to fucking make a move or shit, I'm waiting, fuuuuck" so those I guess fun while you're both awkwardly stepping on each other's feet in a fucking dance (I hate myself for always comparing love to dancing because I use it so often, I have no idea how often I've said… love is a waltz or something, but eh, bear with me, I fucking hope my long monologue isn't boring, I just wanted to talk of love, really, get something… more raw and out of my mouth because I'm a fucking blabbering happy machine today and lovestruck as I've been) so I guess this story falls under that. 

I think I wrote that because I do get anxious about posting sex scenes, I think I was walking a few days ago and I was like "hey, Callie, am I that sexual?" like there's that awkward moment when you get asked about fetishes on asks and you're like… nah, can't think of any and then it dawns on me like… sex toys are fetish, positions are fetish, fucking anal is fetish, it's ridiculous how much is fucking considered deviant. Or when I'm really spacing out from depression I'll fucking go "wait, people literally just have missionary, Callie, is that true?" XD I'm fucking daft. And in general I dunno I just get ticked off that people still fucking shame sex, like jesus, what I do or what I write what my characters do is errr my head and my body and whatnot, please piss off. And I dunno I've seen more sex shaming and I'm always the one in the circle of people who listens to people go "…and he did this" in a fucking shocked voice and I just blink a few times and I'm like "so?" So things like that still get to me. Like is this sex scene good? Did I fucking make it different from another one since I make sure to fucking make them shift even if I dunno I want like all three stories to I dunno have someone riding someone, I'll still fucking think in my head and I'll even compete to fucking write with myself a longer sex scene. So yeah, I'm obviously recently proud of National Anthem. I'm fucking referencing to so much and this backstory is longer than my "I'M WRITING SHORT FORMAT CHAPTERS LIKE I USED TO WEEE" anyway, hello anxiety. 

Back to the story.

I made them fuck. I wanted them to fuck. And I wondered for a bit, thinking how would I make them have sex first and that's what my sexual mind came up with and in general I just like how this story challenges sexuality, because we still stick to labels and yeah, you just forget your sexuality for the right person (or not, I'm fucking gay and I'm running after a bloke, I'm not the best example right now, but hey, there's Callie xD) 

I love Weekend. I don't know how much I have to say about it. I make my characters watch it, it's like as if I have one DVD to give to my characters and I just give them Weekend. 

You do weird shit when you're a teenager. Funnily enough, I always managed to dodge even people on top of me, I have no idea why, demisexuality is a funny thing, my hands are not going near you unless I am over heels for you. So yeah, I was like, eh, I wouldn't but hey, they did, anyway xD

I barely talked of the story.

More backstory to backstory.

I hope you still enjoyed it and the next chapter is different perspective, literally and like… two chapters left?

I hope you enjoyed it and please tell me if you did, go pester me to post it xD

Thank you



Tuesday, 21 October 2014

Broken Black Varnish Requiem 8

We decide on a dress, which I flip at him and take off gingerly, Jamie booing my choice of resistance. I wonder if we both realize that we’re both in dresses and ready to pounce for the bouquet of no choice, that we’re both placed in the same ring, both in the same frilly dresses we’d never wear, so I give him back the dress, pulling on my jeans and falling on the bed, grunting, as Jamie slowly starts braiding my hair and I snap at him, my anxiety tickling me far too much when nothing has even happened but I wished that the fingers intertwined in my hair were Jack’s for some reason and I just sigh, as Jamie starts ruffling through Alex’s clothing with a stuck out tongue. 

“It does look like he has been dating you for a while.” Jamie laughs, showing the ridiculous amount of plain shirts, which he clings onto.

“Well, I’d rather have him in plain shirts than the leather pants he matched with Miles when they were shagging in University, Jamie.” I smirk, as we both giggle as we recall my husband and his whole flamboyant appearance and even feathery jackets. I had met him after a good while he had broken up with Miles. Jamie had seen him, they both were friends back from college, both claiming that they never touched each other but both had a copy of a photo of their tongues rubbing whilst drunk, but I had left it at that for a while, until Jamie said they had a dare once, because it was odd that they never romped and it was left at that. 

Alex was another queer friend of Jamie’s to me, who apparently they would drink together in college and both had boyfriends at the time, Alex having people of different genders through out his life, while Jamie just clung onto guys since ever. 

“Would Jack suck me off in this shirt?” I grunt into the pillow not bothering to even see which shirt of Alex Jamie had chosen. 


I quite miss this format and this is the last of the prewritten chapters I've got up my sleeve, but I'm nearly done with the next one. It's a bit odd and fun to pick up old stories and continue writing them and it's funny because I feel awfully eager to actually get them somewhere, years later of course xD I suck

In general I'm angry, I'm always fucking angry.

I guess I get too angry at tumblr too often for people running around screaming that everyone is bisexual as if no other sexuality exists specifically the words are yelled at either gay characters or any character which could be polysexual, pansexual, queer and etc. 

Number two. I frankly even if I have friends, I'm still awfully skeptical and I do write many friendships in my story but I myself in life am awfully bitter towards them because I've had a lot of backstabbing and plain uglier stories than any disgusting break up I've had. And people keep yelling about Milex, so it's awfully fitting that I chose to post the story on Alex's backstory which has Miles and yeah, I just get annoyed when people put friendship above love. It ticks the shit out of me and it's just, why do you have a relationship then? Have a platonic with your friend/s. Fucking save your partner from your bullshit. I think I just realized (I know it's obvious) but anger is more than my fuel to write and it's not always LGBT but personal, To Miles is heavily driven by anger or PDD if going on more personal. 

So yeah.

I pretty much covered in my rant.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I enjoy the story and look forward to the divorce party and in general I like chapter which are about nothing, Salinger inspired me good back when I opened him nearly ten years ago. Oh and found Zooey extremely hot, I even made a sculpture of him for my final art school year. The teacher hated my guts. Oh, well, the sculpture is still awfully cool.

Thank you again and if you enjoyed it, drop me a comment anymore

P.S. nudge me to stop keeping written chapters unposted xD


Saturday, 18 October 2014

totalitarian woollen hounds

It’s not even the fear of the unknown it becomes the fear of the oneself with cringing doubt and even when all seems to have settled and with tickets at hand and smiles from people you’ve known, fear is still cringeworthy. And it gets worse every day, depression just slowly starts eating me and pushing holes everywhere as the dates comes closer and closer and everyone just talks about packing bags and what to take, what to buy, what to bring and some even start getting lists of what to bring back with souvenirs. 

It gets even worse the closer it gets with a nagging feeling and how someone gets a fucking deck of cards and the cards are shuffled, saying that it’s some Russian method and someone even tries to learn some Russian just because we’re going to East Berlin instead of German. Then everyone decided to try and do German from a few tattered textbooks and whomever learnt German at school.

Cards are shuffled and cigarettes lit, cheap wine already gone for the night. Should you even fortune tell on a Saturday is what’s muttered and shoulders are shrugged as the cards are just placed in front and a silence is held.

“Come on, just tell Jamie’s fortune!” And more giggles and I can’t even recognize the faces. I inhale, all cards meaning shite to me, I’m just guessing clubs shouldn’t be something too well for some reason and the Jack would mean love interest, I presume, which instantly ends up in me getting jabbed in my side.

“Yup, some bloke. I guess that’s why we’re going to Germany.” And he grins widely and removes the cards from the table and starts shuffling.

“Oi, there were like six cards, you just told me about the bloke!” The fortune teller just shoos me off with his hand and I notice far too many rings which most likely were stolen or given by insane clients who needed to pay for the removal of jinxes and to get husbands. 

“Bad things are never told to the customer, only the best, because then the best will keep you going, wanker.” And he stretches for my pack of cigarettes in my front shirt pocket and takes one for himself. “Next!”

“Fuck this.” I walk out, the cigarette half smoked into the small balcony which has a few broken plant pots with things stashed inside. I lean down to see some cash, which someone might’ve missed and I put it in my pocket, wondering how much even was there initially if they left the tenner behind. 

And the bloke was more than obvious since Wob managed to tell everyone last night, nearly passed out but holding his eyes with his eyelids about how I once tried to hit on him and that revealed my sexuality far too much, when I started off as quietly saying that there was simply no one in my life, there wasn’t. I throw out the cigarette and look down as it misses the puddles, rain coming to greet tomorrow, as I shrug pressing myself against the rails which were painted last week. My dad’s face quickly flashes in my mind and I just sigh, thanking that no one ever asks about my family, at least some questions are kept to themselves since everyone always blabbers why they ended up squatting. I’m always dismissed as someone with no story to tell even if in the beginning I lied once, just to make myself more interesting and I thought that’s what everyone did, but in reality some people did end up in killings or theft or were simply way too psychotic to be anywhere else or some just ran off to London, really. It’s a lucky dice roll, you don’t hear too many interesting things because not all are funny when drunk. 

They sometimes say that you’re friends simply because you end up in the same situation, because nothing else would make sense if all didn’t try to survive. And everything which wasn’t a blood relation was easier to hold anyway, it was always easier to hold because there is never the temptation to give out to scream and emphasize that both should be holding the relation and soon enough family reminds of some authority. People abuse authority, there’s been enough evidence of it and I sit down on the balcony, my fingers shaking from the anticipation, knowing that everything would flash, the airports, the passport checks and they do, instruments glanced upon and I wondered if I could even play guitar in a plane, just like a friend told me once that once they did with one of those tiny amps and supposedly people enjoyed it.

The window doesn’t close properly and it’s not even too many hours. 

And depression seems to be more than my neighbor and people speak of the muse as if she were a person, well depression seems more of a presence which nags to me that maybe I should’ve held my mouth shut and my hands to myself, that then none would’ve happened, that I should have never dragged him back home with me, that none of this would’ve happened, that I should’ve let everything manage to get by itself that even my boyfriend at the time said it hadn’t been wise to do. And I had gotten chucked outside and the only reasonable solution when you’re bewildered was to do something just as bad. I had chosen London just for the word of mouth. It was dirtier than expected and just as told.

And talking to people it doesn’t make you miss them, it makes you miss yourself, it makes you miss your own company and I even feel some memory loss, something I’ve read on depression and once the bag hits the floor I realize that my whole body had been shaking the whole way to the abandoned building, that all the hitchhiking, that all of this feels like my body can’t take anything anymore and it just feels like when you call a helpline on the NHS and you just breathe, crying and they tell you that you are noble for just going on.

There is nothing noble in just existing and I don’t think severe depression even covers anything and the Diazepam pills had never worked, all the pills just all in different packages and the parents just asking what would they do and once they would run out nothing would make the silent noise go away, the feeling of despair and the shattering of glass in front of me seemed like nothing, like the scribbles on the wall and my age seems to be catching up, I feel old, without being old, but I still heard people mentioning bands I was not aware of, I was always out of the loop, just to borrow Sarah’s vinyls and hastily return them the next morning, finding no solace in myself or any one for that matter.

Sometimes it doesn’t even feel how the strings hurt your fingers, the wrist aches even more. I had taken someone’s bike and fainted halfway, realising that perhaps it wasn’t the best idea, but you’re just noble for surviving 

but at what cost and why, when there is no one

when all memories bundle up and burst?

The blood seems to be leaving the body as I settle on the mattress, surprised how come I chose the small storage room, how come it wasn’t taken with nothing but the window and my shoes to be taken off to stand on said mattress to overlook the dirty street. 

No one tells you why you’re depressed, they just tell you you’re nobel. There is nothing noble in living, I open the window, it’s not high enough and I cough at the lump in my throat. I’m over twenty and I have nothing. 

I get my hand out and I jerk it back, my hair covering my face, sticking to my lips.

“James?” I just hastily nod at the new face. Suicide and depression aren’t connected yet you still commit suicide, don’t you? I make sure my hand is behind me and I get the hair out of my eyes and I just stare at him, as he seems to be looking at from head to toe specifically at my bright green sweater which I made sure had no wool in and it still puzzles me how it gives any warmth. My docs are kicked off and he hastily tries to make a move towards me on the mattress and blinks a few times, confused at the cut off heels. I thought they were too chunky. 

“Jamie.” I stretch the suicidal hand and he nods, his hair, at least the longer ones are tucked behind his ears and he himself is wearing an ugly sweater, only woolen and he smiles at me before accepting my hand. 

“Alex. I live here too.” His accent is very strong and I’m guessing he’s from here, but there’s another undertone I try to register and I’m surprised at his accent, it’s far too stirred with too much heritage while I’ll just be labelled British and that’s all and that’s all there will be. And there’s nothing to it besides a bunch of wankers who do the wrong laws and eventually perpetuate to make people believe there is something wrong with them when the answer lays solely in that same thinking. He notices me staring at him. 

“I’m greek, half.” He adds and I wonder if he speaks Greek, but instead he gets called and he quickly salutes me away, hands in pockets as I’m left alone with my open window and dozen of things which should be unpacked but ruffling through items I had been chucked at my face years ago seems to hold no reason. 


I've been holding this story from posting from ages, when I've had the first chapter written for a good while and I think this plot is the longest I've ever held myself from writing because I felt like I needed research much more and yeah, I'm sorry if I didn't study enough and I honestly tried and yeah, I guess I was just always excited about this.

Ok, first things first, in general I think it's no secret that I've read enough whatever I can find regarding Jamie Hince and I always found the few interviews where he talks about how he had squatted in Berlin with Blyth Power interesting and because frankly I care too much about love, it stuck out to me that he had said that he had fallen in love in Berlin and for once he deliberately avoided pronouns, which of course intrigued me. In general he always talks of Berlin fondly and I'm still curious about many things like how he'd visit Berlin rather often before The Kills and how he makes a point of visiting the place where he squatted. I can't link to all interviews where he mentions from the top of my head, unfortunately, but I guess if you're interested poke me and I'll at least recall one maybe >.> 

Then I had a problem, I had no idea who the person was, at all. All I knew is that he had fallen in love with someone, so frankly I have no idea about their gender or agender even. 

I'm awfully strict, I hate OCs in stories besides a few exceptions which is funny because one of the best fan fictions I've read had half of the cast being OCs. So I avoid using OCs in my own, even if I'm more liberal in other people's stories. So an OC was out of the question and I was stuck with shit, I need someone who lived there, I wanted to stick with my theory that it was someone who lived there permanently because then it would make sense, since they lost contact and Jamie returned and the said person squatted as well, I'm spoiling my own plot here xD 

So I dunno if you've been affected but I want on a quest asking people if they had any good German musicians in their head and then I think Callie randomly suggested Alex Kapranos, explaining since he's half-Greek and at the time there were a lot of Greek people in Germany, that he would fit perfectly. And then I was stuck with a "I've never written Alex Kapranos in a story before" hence the fact that I love Franz Ferdinand and I've been a fan since they released Take Me Out but over the years I shifted to other bands and I even listened to them quite rare and the new album went past me entirely. But I still wondered

And Maritza and Callie just kept convincing me to do Alex Kapranos as the said mysterious Berlin person. So thank them for having him here xD and I'm thankful to both for bombarding me for a while to actually take him in, because I was keeping myself from writing the story because I had no idea who to stick in xD and I wasn't sure about Kapranos being the perfect fit, but I guess with me shielding the story from fucking sunlight I came more pleased with my decision and the fact that I can slightly ship them at least xD since they know each other, so I'm happy XD 

And well, I think we've all done shifty eyes at Kapranos, that guy is surely to some extend queer.

I think if you're reading this blog you've heard me talk of Hince's sexuality far too much, so there.

Next up was the fact that I frankly don't like Blyth Power even if I enjoyed scrolling around their website and getting confused when the fuck did Jamie even leave and enter the band. Oh and the shrine of beautiful Jamie in dreads photos. Not the mention the beautiful youtube videos of Blyth Power. 

Ok, before the story I've just been really angry at everyone yelling how we should do female characters and more of them and less male (doesn't matter, trans or queer, just no men, straight cis women everywhere!) and I'm just here sitting like… fuck you. I'll keep writing my queer men, thank you very much, since even the comic I'm reading right now is even written by a female. Nothing wrong with that, I just wish we had more queer men visibility, that's all and I'll see where I'll go but I might shift to a fiction novel for nano, with surprise surprise transmen, yup, I'm kind of awesome and caring. But of course at times I just feel like I'll keep screaming and I'll just be silenced as usual. But eh, nothing I can do. Well, besides writing and screaming louder, because I'm surely not the one who gets tired first and frankly with everyone praising Minaj I'm disgusted because doesn't matter transmen are erased to an awful extent and all trans people, I still can't believe how they just shoved Laverne Cox in the back of OITNB but that show went shitty and transphobic (yes, regarding transmen but we don't care, do we?) Anyway, I went on a daily rant.

But that pushed me to make sure to post this today.

Back when I wrote this I was just aware that Jamie surely had some mental illness but I wasn't sure what, so this was me trying to turn on the light in the dark, but I think I've ventured enough and I'll keep quiet for once xD for once. I did have a rough guess and it was one of my guesses though. 

So basically, I just kept describing the haze, depression and etc, so in general the chapter is riding with anxiety, haze and depression. 

I think in general I always found it interesting how for instance on the old Kills website the talk how they went fortune telling so I quite enjoy when people speak of their experiences and themselves believe. 

I promise to mention other members besides Jamie and Wob, I promise xD

In general the whole story is a fucking stab in the dark on all my theories and what I've read. Heh, what did I read? whatever the fuck google gave me. 

I think I'll leave it at that, I spoke everything I could in the story and that's where I'll leave you xD

Ok, quickly adding, it's like… fuck knows how deep in the night here, I'm saving my dignity here xD and I was listening to Dark of the Matinee and I'm so fucking sleepy and I misheard for some fucking reason some line to "totalitarian woolen hounds" and I was like 'oi, Callie, I misheard this…' and she gave a thumbs up and I was laughing at the woolen bit, considering that Jamie refused to wear wool in his active vegan days (from high school roughly and onwards to whenever he dropped in the 00s) and of course this is set in East Berlin. Fuck knows why hounds. 

And thank you, I hope you'll enjoy this… thing I've been planning for months and shoving it asides xD

And I'm off, thank you, tell me you liked it XD



Thursday, 16 October 2014

Blue/Jacket 7

Sometimes art doesn’t have to paid, and to be honest it shouldn’t. I had gone to Spain this year and I was refused a student price because I wasn’t enrolled and that ticketed the fuck out of me, because I didn’t want to go on saying that I didn’t want to enroll somewhere where my name would never be respected and not wearing a binder made my own argument even more invalid. 

And people pay for art.

I get paid for art, I get paid to photoshop a few things and I roll around in my chair, listening how I’m wasting my life as if I were the drying oil on the canvas behind me, the one which you want won’t sell because it shouldn’t really sell.

“Miles, if you’re trans, why don’t you draw transmen?”

“Because I have my enough struggles. I don’t want every character I have to face the same struggles.” And Nick just shrugged, as he watched all the boxes being taken away and my parents going to leave as well and he just smiled softly, knowing that I’d be going and he’d be left as he had said that he’ll be left with those blokes who would squirm at a bra. I took my backpack.

“You ended up being one of them.” And that was the last I had said to him.

And then the departure and all the paperwork were getting worse and worse, the queues and all the people with stories worse and easier than mine to tell as the lines get longer and words are plainly said that everyone fleeds and nights are spent making money after it’s pronounced that if I am going with the system of making money and not staying in the woods, but doing it a bit differently, not choosing university because the offered job was taken and movement erratic, I am still judged. 

“I barely draw transmen because I don’t want to bother drawing dysphoria every time, drawing is my escape and I fucking wish I had a penis, you know.” I snapped at Nick once, as he had spilled his coffee and apologized. 

It’s weird how you don’t date people solely because they think that trans is a barrier. 

I press my face against the glass which emits itself to be dark. 

And when I do see Alex watch me curiously near my door, I know it’s unravelling, his eyes holding a deja vu, which doesn’t seem to break and I know I won’t escape it with Jamie’s lips all over my body and we both leave the apartment at the same time for our own date, as if there is no schedule and Alex asks me if I prefer beer to cider and offers cider, stating that when he came to Sweden he discovered cider for himself and he’s still in the jacket only with a woolen layer underneath and I can’t help but gawk on him as he smiles at me, his hair in a quiff and not as lazily styled as Jamie’s, clothes aren’t as expensive, but they seem more lightly worn and sleeves rolled up more than once. His fingers seem rougher and I wonder how many injections he does a day and how much is his shift and how many lips has he ever kissed in his life. 

We’re intertwined and it’s unravelling is what my pulse says and my beliefs and my wails and the trembling hands with the Stockholm boarding pass and the emptiness of Skavsta airport. When you’re blinded by love is it your own or Alex’s? Or Jamie’s in general and I can’t help but keep looking at him, some silent wall giving him insights of how deep had I known him and he’s without candy and slowly we progress on small talk as he smiles and I can’t help but watch his dark eyes and there’s too much to row and I feel awful that Jamie’s lips linger in my own mouth, maybe two tries of the same cake is too much at the same time?

Maybe I just want Alex to crush all reality, say no bond so that would just try and ease and see something in front of me rather than through my dreams? 

His cards are never flipped over and my own judgment is lost and biased. 

Anxiety is the tool to all of our misery. 

I would feel like I was fighting some war where I wasn’t sure what I even was and all I would see is people giving me the wrong ideas up to the point that I wasn’t even sure I was fighting, it was all revolting and sometimes I would just look around to see how alone I was. I look at Al, it was odd to feel that I was the only one who had to construct myself to some extent, take the step of going to the barbers are realizing where would my dysphoria end and where my own habits were.

It’s odd to slowly start realizing even at the back of the head that maybe there is something attractive to me, not that I see it late at night, binder off with my chest aching and paint all over the floor that I have to hastily clean up. The closest I would get once I was out was people telling me that they wouldn’t date a transman and the closest to close was only they would but after bottom surgery.

I feel like both Alex and Jamie run parallel lines. 

I have fallen in love with Alex too many times for it not to be true.

We make our way slowly back into Gamla Stan and he starts talking of the italian restaurant which is actually good and I just nod, solely keeping the deadline in my head and I try to avoid his gaze for a while, our conversations minimal from both sides and I wonder how close is he with Jamie and when I see a text from Jamie, my blood gets cold as we get seated and once you face each other that’s when you realize that you have no other way but rather than to converse. He quickly texts his ex back, apologizing and even if I had Jamie’s lips on my own and the truth unfolded on Alex cheating on Jamie, my curiosity comes for both parties and I feel intimidated as his fingers fiddle with the napkin, as his dark eyes are focused and I’ve accepted the fact that he knows nothing, because in some tales one knows all, the other knows nothing. But then maybe he was nothing for me to achieve and I excuse myself quickly, asking hastily where the bathroom is -

And the constant fear of entering a male bathroom still resides with me, I hate gendered bathrooms and sometimes the confused looks from foreigners, as they try to crack me and how much surgery I’ve had, so I just head to the cubicle and I lift my shirt up, coughing lightly, anxiety rising within me

Ok, Jamie kissed me

But what about Alex? I turn my head towards the door. I start tracing my fingers on the wooden door, hoping to get a blister as I keep coughing and I hope that it doesn’t reach the level of vomit as I look down to see myself with the said binder and I just tighten it up and hold a cough. Sometimes I feel like I’ll never be a man. 

Maybe it’s because someone who you loved told you they would never date you.

Love is a long process and sometimes it happens long after the person is gone and then you realize the metronome is on, only thankfully in the distance. 

I always wondered how much do people flinch thinking about me even if I haven’t properly dated anyone, I wonder how much does Nick even flinch if he hears anything I had ever given him to try or any of the times we would spent in our early teenage shops in music stores, just browsing and it’s weird because all those memories are quite shredded with dysphoria and I wonder how different would my history had been if I knew who I were and I didn’t have so much confusion and I would have the bizarre break ups and hookups, but instead I was stuck in a relationship with myself and whenever I would break myself, I would avoid the songs which circulated in my head then, so would I be an ex to myself as well?

Maybe we shouldn’t go denying our own twisted love as my curiosity escalated and fate seemed to dwell with pure reason and which side did I even have to choose or watch both colours dissolve in the water, away from me before I even choose to dip my toes in.

I feel like I know too much about him when he knows nothing and he is anxious about solely not knowing anything and I just slowly head back to see him rubbing his palms together and I can’t help but feel all my throat close up on me as I make my way and he smiles at me and I hold my gaze on his dark eyes far too long before back to the menu. Our silence and anxiety seem mutual. 

“Are you feeling okay? Coz... Jack texted me that you collapsed. If you feel tired at any point just tell me and I’ll well, we live next door so walking home sounds obvious. But if you ever need anything, just tell me, coz I can see what I can do in my powers.” He smiles at me.

He cheated on Jamie.

I wonder what the fuck even went on there. And it’s as if they both were sitting, not facing each other and I wonder how deep do the leftovers lie and how often do both even cry and if they even tried reconciling. 

I recall Jamie’s kiss on my lips.

I would even text him, but seeing Alex is a bit too much. 

“Yeah. Thanks.” I mutter and I hide behind the menu. Don’t sit on two chairs, Miles, because I can barely make sense of my own head and two relationships and cheating if I will with Jamie’s traces on my lips is not something I would ever want to handle. 

Do I put it out on a platter?

Did Jamie tell Alex anything?

I look out of the window, wondering how easily can fate even be rewritten and if I should have dreamt of Jamie in Alex’s jacket instead?

“Did you have a good time with Jamie?” He says, still scanning the menu and my fingers tremble, my lips go cold ironically before getting a shot of memory heat again, through out my whole body as Jamie had broken the kiss, eyes wide open. I just nod at Alex.

He’s not the one refusing, it’s me. 


Happy (late) Birthday Oksana!!!

Sorry the delay, but yeah, this chapter is my late gift xD 

Basically I always get tense sometimes around stories so I usually wait until I can't hold and then I binge chapters xD but I'm always writing something and I need to push out everything I've written and I know it's been taking me ages xD like I have a few entirely new stories or last chapters of different stories which frankly should've been posted ages ago. So yeah, if you can just pester me to post something each day XD I think I'll even have enough for a month xD 

Story-wise I've been thinking a lot and this chapters has a bunch of my own actual personal thoughts in a more raw version and I guess it comes a lot from the fact that I always felt close to my Mileses XD specifically because Miles is trans in this one as well. 

Actually the Spain story was something which ticked me off. I pretty much got angry at the queues and my mental health was horrid and it was when I had a fallout with my ex-therapist and standing under the sun for hours or paying ridiculous prices because I wasn't in uni just disgusted me. And frankly triggered me because it's something well, which I cope with due to the circumstances and I don't need it shown in my face, so that was rather gross and irritated me to no end. 

I actually keep pestering myself that I should have more trans characters and frankly, I should but I just don't want to focus sometimes, because well, my dysphoria is still rather heavy at times and it's more of the "imagine what you can't change and let your imagination erase your dysphoria" so that's what I do and I'm still thankful I had read that post when I came out. So, yeah, I want to pretty much focus on writing cis men because I'll never really be one, I have to keep on imagining really and yeah, here is what happens in my imagination but I still will always have at least one on-going properly story with a trans main character, just understand that Miles is still hard to write because I want it as accurate as possible. And in general I'm a person highly not sure of himself, so of course I'll judge myself for everything.

I think the highlight of this chapter was Nick, which Callie laughed that I made an asshole really, but frankly I've done each of errr everyone to be an asshole at least in one story. Nick and Miles' story was inspired, I guess, this is where I go personal, but yeah, I had a close friend when I was coming out and yeah, I got told in my face that he wouldn't ever date a transman and that shattered me and soon enough we stopped talking and it's awful at times because I miss him, but nothing I can do. People are assholes and well, some people just don't deserve to be in your life for being assholes, so Nick was based off that. So it's like yeah, you support me, but you'd never date me solely because I'm trans, ok. 

Regarding cider I got back into it since frankly in stores besides System Bolaget you can only get beer and cider xD 

I guess I should explain, Skavsta is pretty much one of the airports and yeah it's like where all the Ryanairs are and what not x) but yeah, Arlanda is much nicer if you ask me, because it's awfully big and I just like airports at times. 

Regarding dysphoria when I came out and when Callie, it's quite hard because you still wonder where does your dysphoria end, like do you want to wear plain t-shirts because you should wear that for being "male" by society or because you want to. 

Fear is a constant factor, there's always the whole juggling doubt, because there's so much transphobia and frankly no support, you start wondering if you will ever be a "real man" when in reality all that matters is what's inside. 

Exes are a weird funny thing and I was wondering today about it, because I recalled a random queer guy who rejected me back when I was in my early teens and that escalated me to think about all of my exes. It was all fucked up because I didn't know my gender and I believe they were confused about their sexuality as well. And I had a funny question, because frankly once you shatter everything with someone you dated, you don't know how much they miss you and I just shoved that thought into Blue/Jacket here. 

It's… a weird, scary, destroying feeling when you realize that you're in love with two people because it slowly emerges and you have no idea what to do, because it is like two parallels running.

And yeah, I found it interesting how I got pointed out that pretty much Alex doesn't appear often but he's pretty much spoken of and Jamie tells more about Alex than Alex does. And in general there's a lot to be unfolded about all the characters and yeah, if you haven't checked Start Finding Passion, you should xD it's the prequel and explains in more detail Alex's character and the whole break up, really.

I hope you enjoyed it and it was quite a shattering chapter, please tell me if you did:3

thank you



Tuesday, 14 October 2014

No. 1 Party Anthem 2

I keep my eyes closed as he leaves, the walk of shame is said to be done alone and he seems to be taking his time, but I see that he makes a point of not looking back and he takes a mug of coffee with him outside, I think he leaves but instead it’s for a smoke and he heads back and that’s where we meet in the kitchen and I even feel my kidneys race, my whole body pulsate and a migraine originate and he just presses his lips and gets out, popping the collar of his leather jacket up and I am just left. 

I make coffee for myself, ignoring the vibrating phone which seems to have texts back from seven a.m. from Jamie who stood up all night because he had been fighting with Brian I figured and I sit in the kitchen an hour just browsing the news online, feeling like I reflect everything in my eyes, but not taking any deaths in. Have I even ever seen a walk of shame before? How do I even react to him? I start hearing a banging on the door, the doorbell is no use these days and I make my way, my heart hoping that it’s Alex but instead the knocking proceeds to be louder and it matches the bloodshot Jamie eyes. 

“You broke up.”

“He cheated. With Stefan.”

Both are said at the same time and we’re both taken back at the sudden realization of events and I sigh, motioning him in and he glances at the undone bed which seems a bit too tousled and he grins. I poke his forehead. 

“Don’t. We both had sex we’d rather not speak of Hince, what now.” I scratch the back of my head, feeling as if I had gained sleep even if neither of us touching any inch of each other’s body and Jamie just sighs, looking at the half drunk coffee mug and takes a sip of it. It’s a two-people ashtray now.

“It’s not the first time.” I sigh, my own headache being mental as Jamie just cringes at my addition of sugar and milk.

“Don’t you ever think of the animals?”

“I don’t give a fuck about the animals. I fuck like an animal.” Jamie smirks, he’s far too light to be heartbroken. I wonder if it was a threesome gone wrong but then I notice his bloodied knuckles, fight got out of hand. I wonder if it was Brian or Stefan’s face. 

“You need a shave, Hince.” I mutter and he widens his eyes looking at my stubble. It gets ridiculous, sometimes you wish you were stuck in your teens, peeping at the bathroom mirror slowly feeling the whatever the fuck pubic hair which crawled onto your face and wanted to call itself sexy. 

Jamie makes himself black coffee, barely any sugar, I’m sure he survives.

“Why don’t we date?”

“Because if you put Fugazi’s Red Medicine I will pull your eyesockets out. And you stand Brian’s Richey shrine. I can’t do any of that. Both of you can.” Jamie sulks, but mutters fair point and just says that Fugazi is still amazing and I ignore that. He turns on the telly and I just join him on the floor, it’s like a ritual, if Jamie is sitting on the floor, Brian would join him and if it’s me next Brian or not, I’d join as well. “Did you see Alex leave?”

Jamie shakes his head and starts flicking through channels as if that would hold any of our emptiness away and he glances at me for a brief while and I just look back, pushing his shoulder lightly, taking the piss before any of us have some heartbroken shag and I just stand up, Jamie stopping on some cooking show. Neither of us can barely cook, I managed to start doing something but all Jamie can do is grilled cheese and Brian would end up taking the task of not poisoning himself and his lover. Jamie darkens as if I had mentioned Brian’s name outloud.

“Why don’t you do an open relationship?” Jamie just rolls his eyes at my suggestion, hugging himself and pulling his legs to himself, chin against his knees, eyes closed and slowly shaking his head and I just watch him dissolve his own answer.

“He doesn’t want to, he keeps saying how Stefan is a mistake. I don’t know.” He says far too fast and hesitating with his own struggles. I take my box of cigarettes giving him one, but I wave my hand at him, as I solely want to be left alone. I grab my leather jacket, waving at Jamie’s back and eventually I leave the apartment, unlit cigarette ready for it’s slow torture from both ends and I start walking, back through the streets as if I were a new man when in reality all I had was a shag which I hadn’t had in quite a while. It’s weird retracing my steps as if there is something for me to find, but I still find my way back to Alex’s door and the house still has beer bottles everywhere and the closed curtains. I wonder how come it seems so calm and post-sex, but then everything feels the anxiety of post-coital, so I have no idea.

I curse, pulling my face, as I knock on the door, looking down but as I lift my head I see a girl with long brown hair. 

“Oh, shit-” I say before I even register it and she just smiles back at me, confused, she’s still in yesterday's attire I presume by the ruffled clothes as if she had slept in them, but her make-up looks a bit fixed, I might’ve caught her right after she brushed her teeth. She turns around to wave behind her. “I mean, I was-”

She looks at me with her big eyes and I just feel even smaller.

“Alex?” I mutter and she just nods, grabbing me by the arm and yanking me inside, humming some tune as I still see some people sleeping on the floor even if it’s more than past noon and all of us have started to shake off the party away, but she nearly skips to the kitchen which has Alex looking down at a new coffee mug and he just looks at me a bit pale, but that’s because I’ve pinned all his feelings down last night. Then she turns around and claps her hands together.

“Miles, right?” She beams and I nod, scared and she just gets even merrier. “Oooh, Agyness talked about you. You’re gay, right?”

I blink. I just nod, confused, how come is my sexuality told everyone on a silver plate and Alex had no idea, as he avoids me and I just observe him before going back to the girl’s hazel eyes. 

“How come Alex never told me? He always would do all these gay jokes and how he would never have a gay friend.”

“We’re not friends-” Is spoken from each of our mouths and eyes met for a while, as the girl just looks back at Alex more confused from his participation than my face and fact. Great, gay jokes. All I needed was homophobic confirmation and I just stick my hands in my jeans, looking down. I didn’t even register how tussled his hair looked and how I had wanted him in my arms again until the sting reminded me what was lurking in the back of my mind, in the back of the split sphere. I just shake my head lightly and I’m about to leave, but the girl grabs my hand again and I just stare back.

“I’m Arielle, Alex’s girlfriend.” Fuck. Girlfriend? I shoot a quick glance at him. “It’s ok, Alex is a moron. I’d love to have a gay friend.”


I’d rather have Jamie put on Red Medicine and some other bullshit, at least I know he’s gay and sane. I shrug her hand off and Arielle turns to look at Alex confused, who just continues sipping his coffee until I make my way out and he quickly stands up to follow me and I feel my body start shaking and my knees weaken. We get out of the house, Arielle behind and I just light a cigarette which he yanks out of my mouth and my lips ache as I watch him. I’m sure he’s not aware of how good looking he is, with the quiff entirely gone and morning leaving traces in the day. But I keep that for myself to die. I get myself another cigarette.

“Gay jokes?” I hiss, laughing afterwards. “That’s fucked up, considering you really wanted to get fucked, mate and you did. Fuck you.” 

I shove a finger in his chest, as if accusing, but then I am and as if drunk with my own reality I turn around to feel him grab my hand, but as I shrug it off and start walking away, he follows me, trying to lock eyes as my sole companion in my head is my new cigarette. I need to buy a new pack, but I don’t see any newsagents and I try to avoid him as hard as I can and neither does he speak until we’re a good few blocks down, but I make sure to make a turn away from my flat so that I wouldn’t have Jamie looking at both of us arguing and wondering where would he fit again. 

“I’m sorry, I really really am.” He says, going in front of me and I just stop, thankful that apparently the afternoon didn’t seem to hit anyone, besides the few open local businesses, but everyone’s head is still between someone’s legs apparently or with faint traces of last night’s oral under a pillow. I glare at Alex, even before he utters it and I roll my eyes. “I’m straight.”

I’m not one to judge one’s sexuality, but I laugh in his face as he just pales up. 

“Congratulations, your gay jokes were about your own fear.” I laugh darkly, wondering if I should’ve brought Jamie into this, he could’ve done some more sarcastic remark and observed Alex just to tell me that I still got a good shag, apparently. 

I shouldn’t be liking someone who won’t simply like me back regardless of the reasons, the end product of nothing mutual would still exist, because it becomes useless and sometimes it takes much more than half the time to kill, that it will continue nipping the fingers and firing up because there is regret from doing too much and spoiling or not doing enough and that’s why crushes sting because the past was never fully received and there are too many mismatches when it comes to the actual relationship.

His silence seems to feed me with the fact that he whirls with me until we reach the sea and I smoke the last cigarette with him, as he just watches me, slowly smiling and I don’t want him to flirt with me and we seem to hold too much comfortable silence, which is odd because I’m used to Jamie’s and Brian’s constant chatter. Then we just turn around and I feel my blood boil less, it’s his fault and his sexuality to doubt, his girlfriend to cheat on. 

Maybe I do let him back in, but for a short while, I tell myself as he blushes as we head back into the flat, cigarettes bought in haste and we silently enter to hear the telly and Jamie’s presence. Alex would have to get used to this day, if he wants to continue it.

“I was thinking... what if it’ll keep progressing and by the end I’ll just end up alone and I’ll just dettach from him?” Is what I hear from Jamie, half-way through the cigarette, before he turns around to face both me and Alex. I wonder if two gays is too much for the quiff-less lad. 

“Holy shit.” Jamie says, cigarette in mouth, blowing the smoke out, looking at Alex. “Can I fuck you?”

Alex widens his eyes. I break out in a smirk, but I quickly flip Jamie off.

“I get it, Hince, we’re leaving.” I mutter, as I poke Alex on his shoulder so that he faces me and I just feel my blood go up a bit to stroke my cheeks as I look into his deep dark eyes. I see Jamie smile at me sadly from the corner of his eyes and I just step back from Alex, making my way into the small kitchen, observing Alex left in the corridor. The flat is far too small, living room divided by the pans and shelves to make a kitchen. But then sometimes you don’t choose the best alone and sometimes the best isn’t given and you wonder if the thirties will hold a better salary as promised. I hear Alex introduce himself anyway, as Jamie just mutters his name, as I see him still interested in Alex, but his desire getting toned down, his thought most likely already poisoned by Brian as usual. I bring all of us tea, as I sit down next to Jamie, facing Alex as I quickly ruffle through Jamie’s hair as he doesn’t even groan much, nearly picking up the mug.

Alex looks at me confused, but I don’t explain anything. I could play tricks and he would never know. I scratch my head and I wonder how much do I even show of my life which is mostly solving Brian and Jamie’s fallouts if I’m not alone, while behind closed doors is just a mixture of work, cigarettes and self-doubt wrapped in all the seasons which come and go and slowly touch the apartment's interior and maybe smell either of pumpkin or mint which Jamie would end up bringing. He would always bring peppermint candy canes because he’d buy a bunch for himself and he would end up eating half the packet at mine’s anyway, while waiting for his life to be solved when his hands were tied. 

Maybe this was my way to say that I have better things to do? That I am surely more than not interested in his own problems and I just sit besides Jamie, who glances from Alex from while to while, but I know him too well, Alex would never progress anything from a thought, while Brian would invade everything until they would break up again, that’s when he hesitates and actually does other people until they get back together after throwing guitars at each other beforehand. 

“So...” Alex clears his throat and it’s as if the universe had forgotten his existence for a while and I see his anxiety reflected in his eyes as he darts from me to Jamie and I sincerly wonder how much has his existence collapsed and it feels awfully weird to actually wonder how much shallow his world once seemed, because for me and Jamie it seemed that there were never walls, our for a good while but we knew who we were, pure denial is a separate thing, but the problem is that is there actually something beyond Alex’s walls or is it where his world ends? “You broke up with someone?”

Instead of actually showing some compassion, I interfere, before I actually allow Alex’s sudden change in everything to affect me properly.

“He always breaks up, they always break up.” I mutter and Jamie just shoots a glare at me and I’m sure if Alex weren’t here he would have spilled the tea over my trousers and left for a cigarette, coming back, flicking the lighter and just continued with whatever he had been doing and snapped at me for the whole day, but instead a different scenario is resolved with Jamie glaring at me with no tomorrows intended. 

“Yeah, I did... as Miles softly-” He says softly through his teeth, looking deep into the mug. “said, as usual. We break up too often or rather I reconcile with him far too often.” 

Alex unlike both me and Jamie has absolutely no evidence of a stubble or a shave for that matter, as I watch him and I wonder when will puberty even crawl up behind his back, as I pretty much am used to shaving myself each morning and if Jamie or Brian are over it’s pretty much a morning shaving party, as if you could put us all three in a row. I try to keep my mind focused and I quickly take a hot sip of my tea, nearly regretting. 

“Thing is, they’ve been together... for years. Years. Like...” I pause, trying to do the math in my head, even if it’s already written sourly on Jamie’s face. “They’ve known each other since university basically.”

I try to make the facts straight before Jamie gets a say, as he doesn’t enjoy speaking of his past when it torments the present. 

“And that’s when they started dating, so years back, really. But the count is off, because they get on, then off and again.” I think what would I say behind Jamie’s back and if I should say it out loud. I scratch my head, watching Alex who seems to be on the edge of his seat, as if he were discovering a sex talk for the first time in his life. I just glance at Jamie, who is nearly dipping his nose inside the tea. I don’t know how comforting my words will even sound. “It’s more of a question if two people are highly compatible how much would you take?”

I ask the question and Jamie just looks down and Alex just pulls his knees to his chest, putting the mug aside on the small table. Jamie looks up at the one-night stand I had and I quickly shift gaze from one to another, wondering. 

“I had a girlfriend. Well, we seemed compatible, we dated... I’m guessing, not as long, but it was... it seemed compatible, but once you try to live alone, you realize... that you’re not actually that compatible. That you just tell yourself that three days of happiness are worth five weeks of misery and even the happiness, did you... bring it or was it actually your partner?”

I see Jamie’s shoulders shake and I just sit besides him, but he calms down and just solely nods. I take and stick a cigarette between his lips, as he raises his eyes to glance at me. Brian is surely an asshole, but even if the question has always been on everyone’s lips, the longer the rubber stretches, the harder it is to actually let go for the pain to inflict, to be willing to no longer have it in your hands even if you’re aware of the hit. 

He won’t admit it, it’s a decision only poison can help you choose and decide or until you collapse. Dead, preferably than paralyzed to stare at a non-existent sky. 

I put my arm around Jamie’s shoulder, as he lights the cigarette and I decide that there’s no running away from someone smoking in the apartment since there’s three smokers, someone had to start, so Alex shyly takes a cigarette and I join up as last as I push Jamie onto my shoulder and he just smirks, watching Alex, I presume. 

“I’d date Jamie, but we’d kill each other, so we’re not dating.”

“I’d fucking kill you.”

“Exactly.” I smirk and rub his shoulder as he slowly exhales the smoke, cigarette in mouth and I glance at him to see his eyes closed and most likely canning himself up with all the thoughts which could ever trouble him, so that they would paint dark swirls and turns for him to escape in a more horrid misery just to understand that sometimes reality is the escape from one’s emotions and attachments. I kiss Jamie’s top of the head, as he just grunts and I glance back at Alex who tries to blink away some thin curtain of jealousy, but I catch it and I just keep my gaze at him, but it’s only for a mere moment before he shifts back to look at Jamie and I look back down, even if I feel a bit lighter, but I still know his walls are shallow. 


To be honest, I wasn't sure do I continue it or not and I was just thinking and maybe a day later I had the idea of the scene with Arielle and that just tempted me to no end to continue it, to let it happen with struggling Alex and Miles. And in general I enjoyed Jamie and Brian in the back, since errr they're my actual OTP XD I love milex to fucking bits and I just love them so much, but both Jamie Hince and Brian Molko have meant the world for me for so many years, so yeah, I stick Jamie wherever I can xD but I just liked the idea of Miles and Alex, like everyone put it, with Alex pretty much discovering everything and Miles being out.

In general I quite like the idea, I tend to stick with more open characters so it's always fun to have someone not as open, since I go by my usual mindset since I'm open so yeah xD 

Alex is pretty much I guess if you throw me back years and years ago when you just think that… you have to be homophobic. That's what happens when you grow up in a bigoted country and culture at times, because you get no exposure, so I guess that's where Alex's bewilderness goes from, the sense and feeling.

And in general alienation and confusion are awful and I guess I should address it like I address any other issue. Is that spoiling? But then, wait, they slept and this is milex… this is obvious where it's heading, right? But then, even I don't know properly the ending xD I just briefly started thinking on Jamie's end xD 

It took me maybe a month to actually start the actual chapter even if I was excited about the scene. My mind shuts off on one story and I binge something else, so yeah and sometimes the spurts are spontaneous, like I got asked about if there will be a continue and I kept writing it until I reached the rough needed word count and even then I was really pressing myself to write more, about the last two paragraphs and I hope the ending was well. So yeah, stuff like a brief message might tempt me or sometimes I'll end up scared about the story and avoid it for a good while while binging other things and I was planning to post something else, but I figured I haven't posted any milex recently and this besides Gandalf's Inhaler is the ongoing pure pure milex, usually I throw some Jamie in xD 

So I dunno, I quite enjoy milex and I awfully liked this story and sorry that it took me a while and I wanted to roughly keep the word count the same, so there's a fucking lot going on here, eh? xD 

Originally Miles was supposed to wake without Alex, but then I just started writing and the image of Alex getting caught on the walk of shame seemed far more fitting. 

I've tried Fugazi far too many times and they just go entirely through me, so I pretty much smirked while writing that and Callie tried them even more than I did, so yeah, they're just past me entirely. I guess, backstory-wise it's Jamie's favourite Fugazi album. Know your Jamie Hince. 

I guess one fact which made me squeal about Brian is the fact that he used to be a Manics fan, well, I dunno about now, so when I read an old interview that just made me happy and it was around when he and Jamie were back then (I'm trying to be discreet here xD) 

I guess being poly makes me raise an eyebrow, so I guess obviously sometimes I just go "…why not open it up?" But it's not for me to judge upon other people, but yeah, just fucking open it up if you can and if your partner is comfortable really. Compromise, discuss and etc x) 

So yeah, the scene with Arielle and Miles heading back to Alex's to discover that he's an average ignorant twat was the main driving force in my mind for continuing because I really wanted to write that scene and well by Miles just visiting Alex and hearing that surely is far from an ending so of course I realized that in no way I could end it as easily, so here we are xD 

They weren't supposed to head back into the flat, but Jamie's comment on "I'd fuck you" seemed too appealing and I had written that scene a few paragraphs before and then just wrote the rest in, so I was anxious, but then seemed obvious that they would head back. 

I daftly realized that I didn't properly describe the flat, so I just threw some sentences in, I always have a paranoia that I don't describe well enough so I just go on describing sprees sometimes but then in general I am a very very anxious writer xD 

I write quite subconsciously to be honest, I just shut down and keep writing, not really thinking if that sounds odd enough, then it is xD and then I go all… ooooohhh, I love this plot twist or I showed the chapter to Callie and she was all nice touch with Jamie not really speaking of his past, which didn't really dawn on me while I was writing, I dunno, the small moments when you get in character properly x)

The throwing guitar comment between Jamie and Brian was more of a smirk from me to be honest, I think I've read too much and I speak too much xD I only shut up with time.

I came back for the ending about the walls, I kind of want to show that even if Miles seems excited, he still has doubts and he should really. I always get anxious if I portray feelings properly xD ah, anxiety xD 

I hope you enjoyed it and naturally there's more to come and please tell me if you enjoyed it and thank you for all the support, I mean it and I'm happy that you've enjoyed this story so far and I hope this chapter was just as enjoyable



No. 1 Party Anthem 3