Sunday, 28 June 2015

So you can sink.2

“Do you understand?
I can’t love a woman.
Do you know what I mean?
My body can love them, but
my interest in them is purely
intellectual. I have never 
wanted a woman since 
the day I was born. I have
never seen a woman and
wanted her. Just the same
I have deluded myself about
it, and now I have deceived
an innocent girl in the bargain.”
- Yukio Mishima, Forbidden Colours

No one talks of the expectation of being male, they just see the flip side where you can distort everything without realizing how strict the expectations are and pushed upon to dominate nothing in particular and be distant from all the ways, end up being some cardboard reflection of everything you could be. You get told that women can be anything at all and it’s great but it ends up falling that because being all you want to be gets pushed onto the fact that if you want that you might not be a man at all, for pushing yourself further just like a woman had tried on pants for some reason make-up and skirts always made you less of a man because then it wouldn’t be desired and hearing that from women as you’d grow up

“Why do you look so masculine”

“Why are you wearing make-up”

Because you could never be a man if you had wanted to be one. It was like a medical test. How did some pass with bad eyesight?

And in the end it becomes an identity crisis because you don’t fit in and then you wonder heavily until your eyes are yanked open either by a lover or yourself to what you would see in the mirror, regardless of how you look like because by the end of the day it’s just appearance which we get off on regardless of how much facial hair would I grow in a week, how much acne I would get by the end of the day under layers of cover ups when I would feel like it or laying face down in a pillow screaming to get rid of the anxiety-

Joining him for a drink makes me a bit uneasy as I would never do this back in my hometown let alone his as a I presume but since we’re close to the theatre and the centre, maybe we’re let to slip as actors and I just cross my legs, scanning through the plastic menu, not too excitedly as the other man looks back at me.

“Miles.” He says and I take it as his name, feeling my phone vibrate guessing that it could be another useless notification to a pictureless grindr profile. I don’t think I’ll ever see what people would pin me to the bed for but I am deeply thankful for that. 

“Alex.” Which feels more common and basic than it should be, as when I had tried women they seemed to be amused by the name which I would guarantee a bunch of their exes shared as well. Life seems to be heavy recycling of sexual orientation and identity as everything seems to be pushing away from you being yourself just because being a gay man isn’t too trendy enough these days since all can be pinned upon the gay man, because others can be shut or forced to scream in unison therefore avoided. It had been odd to finally come back to men that I recall with the body reminding of the marks left all over it and quick wonders if any lovebites had been left on the stomach and the bruise on the back, that there was indeed a harsh difference between the gender of lovers and it seemed much more simple up to the point that I had forgotten how easy it had been.

But the answer is simple, you don’t teach a fish how to ride a bicycle which I had been doing to myself. 

And when you’re confused you won’t speak.

The first make-up product I tried was mascara for the sole reason that it was subtle and it was when I thought that men had to look as if they would be on the cover of Esquire and they wore mascara on the covers, their make-up was subtle but I had wanted something more and I knew that I had no other identity like they claimed if they had been a drag queen and I was sure that I was a man, allowing myself to dive into the calming thought that most men did it anyway and that never made them less of being a man. And I didn’t understand why I had to even question my gender due to a small product on my face and how come that wasn’t manly when I would clean shave and end up with nude lipstick at first until I couldn’t hold and would go for red and know who I had been. Heels came and went in shoes, because the world was more versatile for it thankfully, but make-up stayed. I watch Miles, wondering what had his been. 

And it never really matters whether it’s silence between you both which attracts you, but it’s usually a snap of a few seconds were possibly if you could capture in a frame all the relationship would make sense no matter how short and to which extent it is dragged upon. 

And it seems to make a bit of sense, as we both drag on to some sticky conversations, both softly waiting for any sexual innuendo. I wonder where had our dinner went or do we just have a different appetite which isn’t even properly discussed. I recall when I had just understood that pretty much nearly all are just interested in hooking up and I realized that coming back with messages to other men was utterly useless and even a tad bit embarrassing for me. Very often so I don’t even know what to speak of, as we both finish our glass. Miles then stands up and I wonder how would it even feel to be underneath him, how do you even invite? But he still invites, claiming with nothing that the conversations would be all over. 

We walk outside and everything feels rather torn and I wonder how the hell did I even manage to grow up here and manage to believe in anything and that oh so many years later I would even manage to get laid again, as if something within me had changed to get laid here which I wasn’t able to when I was growing up. And I wonder if it’s the light or any inner clock in my at all and maybe I had just removed it’s glass face from my chest and revealed myself, because no one wants a wrapped candy without knowing the insides. 

“Do you have any preference?” Miles asks me straight forward so that I don’t even flinch and instead I motion for him to tell his preferences since just like most nights I feel versatile and wondering how thick someone else’s bones are. 


I decided on a quote actually nearly on the last minute and instead of writing much more than the 200 words left, I ended up in a frantic search of what is it that I should even post as a quote here. 

I kind of wanted to close the topic of sexuality by using it really which is from Mishima and this novel kind of goes through out coz it built me and still does as a man. And I cannot claim I was never attracted to women, but it's something I envy because I've done my fair mistakes in the past unlike Yuichi who never was attracted. But anyway, it was decided to answer the questions of sexuality since we have to speak of women for some unholy reason when we talk of men. Like the question of identity, I frankly will admit that I got dragged into (pun) RuPaul's Drag Race and it's hella fun, I'll be honest but there's frankly so much problematic shit but I'll aggree with Carmen Carrera it still sheds light on an important aspect of gay culture which is drag. So kind of watching it sometimes I feel restrcited, why should I be admiring women and only doing make up in character? Hey, everyone is different and I know that make-up is a part of the man who I am, which I've discussed numerously and dug really deep why exactly since everyone gives a fuck. 

I'm sorry if I'm repetative but one of the things which really fucked me up and held back me coming out as male was the whole sense that you are a woman if you have a vagina, that no one allows "women" to be men if you must say that distortedly, that it's always women and since I was a part of the lesbian community you have such gems as stone butch which is frankly a pure disaster and I was flicking through the memoir Stone Butch Blues and I am so thankful I don't think I'm a butch anymore because it's just so fucked up and toxic to not allow transmasculine people to understand who they are just to keep them under the female umbrella and the same happens with Mulan for instance, doesn't matter how much you scream male, you can be a woman, you can't be a man, so I kind of spoke about that here. 

And I'm annoyed that it's like then it becomes an identity crisis because you should be either in suits or a lumberjack and that's it to be male, when being male is much more and as wide as it is to be a woman (understandingly, not fucking Stone Butch Blues). 

I solely wore mascara with very nude-esque make-up and I love just plain mascara on men (hey, Grimmy) so I kind of gave that to Alex in the story. It's surely a fun look if you play with it accordingly. 

I kind of speak really clear everywhere else and I've been much more open I think at least on life outlooks rather than life situations these days. I added the preference coz I didn't want to forget where to go later and how exactly.

I hope you enjoyed it and if you did, please please tell me so



Wednesday, 24 June 2015

shatter cosmos 2

And by the end of the day it is the people which build us who make us become who we are regardless of what we were and they change us, as it becomes some fucked osmosis where we specifically have to make sure that we know what would be taking and what would we be morphing into once they’re on top of us and it happens from everyone to everyone and people don’t speak of the people who have pushed us down entirely to never feel again. 

And the nightmares the ones which you’ll always wish to be alone in would mean that we can never run away, becoming the metaphor of our mind box. And I still flinch from any blonde woman, wondered how many more people would I have to wake up until I would forget her and forget the odd time when you think sexuality is fluid and you realize you were just a gay man trying women again after being a child, because that’s how the brain is rooted, people seem to forget that sometimes it is a disaster for a being to be born in the wrong body that it becomes crucial. 

I send Elijah a few more texts and he doesn’t reply as the coffee doesn’t even bother to cool down, as I keep stirring it for no reason, the two sugars long gone into the milk’s galaxy as people won’t ever see evil women as something actually evil, because people think a flower can’t be deadly if it kills ten frogs, then it should be hailed as frogs aren’t that pretty. That’s what I’ve been told. I take out the spoon and keep tapping the table with it until Elijah appears and hugs me tight, sometimes I hate that partners can read any face from orgasm to despair as if I were a book with all the annotations underneath me. Maybe I am a constellation. Maybe my misery makes the other stars.

“Did you bring the work paper?” I ask Elijah as he sits down and takes a sip of my coffee which has now gotten lukewarm from me staring at the pavement which people had been walking on. 

“No, shit, man, I-”

“Mom told me yesterday that we won’t get one because I’m a trans man or at least because it would be harder.” I say through grit teeth, taking the mug from my husband, rubbing my eyes together, not bothering to drink.

“Shit, when did she-”

“You were asleep, I forgot her birthday so I called her at night since it was still day in Florian√≥polis. I woke you up later coz I couldn’t sleep, but I didn’t feel like talking about it, sorry, Elijah.” I say now sipping the tea and he just sighs, running a hand through his hair and then just putting his hand on my shoulder as I lean to kiss his wrist. 

I think we’ve all got backstories stored in our pockets and blokes which somehow had managed to change us. It was before I even knew who I was and I could barely speak to him even if he had spoken to me. He had golden hair and I won’t even recall how light or dark his eyes had been, I’d still be filled with regret of not knowing and never telling him how I had discovered my sexuality due to him, how he had gotten me into Burroughs by solely being in school with him, him being in a different class and older. That had been all. People build you without them knowing it, they never know how much they mean and you’ll never know how much you mean to others. And it had never been about women between us and Elijah stares at me as I space out-

“look, if you think the meds aren’t-”

“They are, Angelo, they are, you’d be scrapping walls with your nails if they weren’t.” He smiles softly and soon enough my husband drags me up and we should be on our way to wherever he’s decided to take me. 

It’s nostalgia which makes us human.

And it may be nostalgia of the worst as well. Like coming out for instance. I shake away memories. It becomes an art of pushing away your own repulsive memories because in your mind you’re always alone.

I don’t know why when I was growing up I would have dreams in a sort of 2D Mario-esque world, I would never return to the place and in a way I wanted my life to be in such way, but you end up looping in misery and I just take my time to choose in the newly opened pub which Elijah is far more interested in its existence than I am as if they would serve some other magical beer, but I end up staring at him far too long instead of choosing that he snaps me out of it, as the waiter arrives. 

And I contemplate on happiness, if it does truly exist as Elijah keeps asking about food to the waiter and I can only count how many years we’ve been married and everything we’ve shared and it’s far more than a feast, but I become too shy to even tell him how often I’ve thought of him at work and ending up texting him nearly all the time, wondering if we would ever resume waltz classes and where would everything even go.

I always thought it was bullshit, because no matter how confidential you always end up blabbering it to someone and mostly it’s everyone’s partners, that’s exactly why we end up questioning them rightfully. And they always end up blabbering and when it came to Elijah I was the same, I’d leave some details but I would still blabber, and over loud music it seemed fitting as his eyes shone curiously, giving me a bit of jump just looking at him, but I held it, leaning a bit closer to the table. 

“I found Elina’s boyfriend, was at some other guy’s really. Left her a note. Will bang on her door tomorrow, case closed.” And I had told him and there really was nothing else to tell and Elijah just nodded.

Sleeping at night becomes harsh and rough, as I wondered why had he hidden and why couldn’t Brandon just do a fucking clean break and what the fuck had even been stopping him from telling his girlfriend, what had been going through his daft head that he had even known of the investigation and not even be surprised at an open door and it always seemed nice to me that other people were queer in a way, because growing up all you’d see is really bad representations of gays and trans women on telenovelas and that had been it. There was nothing to understand yourself from`, just ending up torn and miserable, wondering what had been wrong with you and parents assuming I were a lesbian was even worse, since they couldn’t get one and one together and I didn’t know how much should I even scrap my finger tips even more on surfaces. Growing up was miserable, so waking up in a body which only partially was away from what I had wanted wasn’t such a big issue anymore. I had managed to find happiness on the outside, that I felt selfish for finally liking mirrors rather than throwing towels on them when I was growing up.

I turned around, feeling awful to wake up Elijah, but in the end I did and we talked until I feel asleep with his fingers in my hair. 


I've been trying to head back into updating every two days and it's been hard because I've been exhausted but I love writing so that keeps me on track and I've been obsessed with this story because well the more I think I think of it, the more everyone comes to life and whatnot:) and I love Angelo to be honest and of course I get a kick of writing Brazilian characters. 

I really discuss it a lot with Callie as well, so I do get a big kick out of it.

I ended up wrapping like 80% of this chapter today, so you can pat me on the back for that xD

The story ended up being rather personal and I know I discuss a lot in Blue/Jacket but it's still a different to my own narrative as is this one, but they're both my stories to tell on how it is to be a trans man really. And shatter cosmos in the first paragraphs kind of goes on how was it to be dating women and so on. And abuse as well. I kind of want to go properly in depth on female on male abuse here later on, I've started touching many issues here.

I don't always enjoy writing characters from places I've been from that's why it's more interesting for me to write about Brazilian trans people or characters because then I don't go as in depth on my memories and speak of Brazil which I also only do in Blue/Jacket, but that's about it. 

I'm sure I've spoken about this before but I had met a bloke and we didn't talk much but he got me into the Beatniks and I was heartbroken because he was older, by a few years (can't recall now, I think like 3 years difference and so) and I was highly insecure, but he pretty much made me pick up the Beatniks and made me really the gay man I am know. I have no idea where he is and I am deeply thankful and just like I use different situations of my life, I guess I hope I will be forgiven for like two paragraphs (and one in the next chapter) based off emotions I've had xD but y'know a writer will write unfortunately/fortunately. 

I slip all my characters into whatever mental state I am in, when I wrote this I was freaking out if my medication was working or not xD It is. 

Scrapping nails is a shout out to the first episode of my Mad Fat Diary's season 3. It's heart shattering.

I had a dream once which was sort of 2D and as described, I wanted to write a novel based on that and I had an outline but I dropped it like years and years ago. Oh, well. It's a paragraph here now. I even drew a map of the places xD

I really need to find some dancing classes and shut up, I promise xD

I think I'm very honest and already vulnerable here so yeah xD

I hope you enjoyed it and please please pleaaase tell me if you did, I'm terrified about my fiction being liked



Monday, 22 June 2015

What's Wrong? 5

And then I realize that people do end up meeting each other by someone approaching as first, so I do that. Because what’s easier than to forget a person you don’t know? And it’s as if fear is more real when you don’t know the person yet, like what is it that they like and how would they feel to see a doll collection, unlike me and Daniel who would point out which doll ended up falling or which dress was out of season or whatever other reason. Do we pay attention to others because we’ve lost the ones we’ve loved or are we too scared to be fully pinned down and beloved?

Neither will we even confess to those who won’t speak. Just like every great love story I didn’t know what to do and how to approach her at all, as she wore a flowery dress today with bare legs. Sometimes I wished there was a publicized female version of Grindr as she sat opposite me in the bus, keeping her gaze on me with a small smile, but before I could reply she hid her nose in a phone. I wonder what exes she had, surely better than my own since they considered her and not a wreck like I was. And I still hadn’t uttered a word, only when she dropped off a station earlier I said bye, nearly muttered and she looked back half way and waved, smiling a bit brighter. I wish I could be her daydream fantasy today. At least today. I dropped off at my usual before the store. 

And summer’s shades turned into shards in the night which wouldn’t sleep anymore with the pigeons and the light curtains dragging along the sky. It reminded me of my childhood as ironic as it was, waking up with all the sounds of pigeons and never knowing what would be missed and how easy death of loved ones would be even if one would die after another slowly, the steel taste hadn’t come yet until barely few were left to none. And I hated summer because it reminded me of the living.

But then summer was when Daniel would kick me out around 4 am to take photos of us in the daylight which no one else would see on the street and it was in a way rewarding to see those photos and have no one else see how far you stuck your tongue out or how close you were standing to each other, because you even hide from yourself. And you’ll never be yourself again and maybe that’s why just like I had ran back inside from the postman which delivered the post at that time with Daniel, I had found the guts to now start saying hi and the more I spoke to her the more quiet Daniel had gone

I would tease myself that he had been jealous but that clearly changed nothing because neither of us acknowledged that love was a chess game and we weren’t doing any moves. My ex had told that to my friend, that dear, it was hard because love was a chess game. But what if we had done the game more complex due to ourselves, for some couples it was surely twister, others monopoly so then was ours chess when we had both refused to move any of our figures?

And none of the exes had ever moved their fingers or figures either. That’s why we’ve all fallen apart so is it truly easier to lose than to love? Are we only truly happy in misery or is it sole despite of the self? Very often we don’t know we’ve made a move let alone done checkmate, because we will never tell we’re in love and that it never goes away.

And even with a hello I feel like I’ve managed to split a candy in two, the scariest is always to talk and somehow I feel lighter, as she walks away the next few mornings when we greet each other and say goodbye every time and by the end of the week we even synchronize the times we go home, as she waits for me on the bus stop, legs crossed. At least it’s mutual.


Originally I wanted more of Alexa in this chapter but I'm rather happy with the way it turned out and I'm sorry if this ends up short because I'm dying and I need sleep xD

I always get scared about new people thinking that they won't like my make up or my doll collection or any small thing which I can think of at the time.

I remember the love story line came to me as I was washing my face and I had to keep repeating it until I dried my hands xD

I literally have no idea how I pulled off their interactions ahahah xD I'd be sulking from afar

The summer paragraph is personal and I got irritated last night at the pigeons because they reminded me of my childhood. 

Me and Callie went outside at 3-4 am to take photos and the postman scared me xD

Another thing was recalling how my ex had told a mutual friend that he couldn't just reinitate contact because love was a chess game and it seemed highly fitting here to be very very honest so I had used that and I wanted to use the whole phrase he'd said to said friend, but I avoided using her name, so it's second best xD And I added more Alexa to the ending before writing the backstory

I hope you enjoyed it and thank you so much

Please tell me if you did, the ending isn't far off by the way



Friday, 19 June 2015

No. 1 Party Anthem 6

“Sexuality is a broken compass. You don’t know what north is.” Alex breathes out under the covers and I dream we’re sleeping in a cave and he looks at me, hot air coming out in swirls out of his mouth. “I’m always attracted to men without knowing it.”

I wake up and he’s out of the bed, my phone vibrating from texts. 

I wonder if we love the past where Alex hasn’t been and I’m left alone with my thoughts as I recall when I had first become friends with Jamie, it took me a few years to realize that it wasn’t just friendship which I had wanted from the guy in leather shoes with the stripy t-shirt who walked on stage, covering Captain Beefheart alone, grinding against the guitar, using the beer bottle when it had been illegal to drink and then he had been in trouble and I recall him sitting outside the small school concert we had with everyone wanting to be Britney or Christina, after getting a scolding, his fringe clenching tight onto his forehead as he was smoking outside. He had been my classmate but we didn’t talk as much. It’s odd to think that back then we thought we were into women so we ended up talking on a park bench until the day shifted back from the night in the early hours of around 2 a.m. reminding us of the middle school break. And then next year we sat together, Jamie paying attention as I would only try, wondering how come I never noticed him before. It’s odd that our parents had loved him and that once he’s got a bloke’s tongue down his throat it was over.

Maybe that’s why we wouldn’t tell each other we loved because we were scared of coming out again. A small detail that I wished we slept in the same bed. 

I bite my phone, dreading the texts and Alex’s empty bed side, but at least unlike Jamie he was shagging me and admitting something. And Alex seemed a bit more than the second best. So how many people do we actually love by the end?

Only with time you can blow the dust to reveal what had indeed been precious about those moments. And then we can enjoy all the misfortunes we’ve had in a different light and memories feel lighter, because you’ll always remember how drunk you had been that you feel in love rather than how much your heart had shattered the next day in the same region with stale nachos.

I feel as if the only way to see Alex is to go to his house again, as memories dunk in black ink, choosing a brighter suit which would cause Jamie to either smoke staring blankly at a wall before grinning or laughing right away, telling me that I looked great and as he would look back at me in the mirror I would go to sleep, thinking that there is a parallel world where we actually love each other, not just platonically because that doesn’t seem to work with me but then maybe it would if I had heard it from his mouth as he would breathe out the smoke instead of vanish for days with Brian to come back when our feelings are rinsed and forgotten and we had forgotten that we were friends. 

And I muse on while eating breakfast, nothing from Jamie, but I still presume he’s alive, since he’s not really the suicidal type besides a few slips in which I had held his wrists with my hands not to do anything drastic which the whole world might regret when he’d be cold. I text him either way, because it’s always slow in conversation until someone picks up and I figure that since Groundhog Day is one of my favourite movies, let my life be one until I get Alex in my life again, so I shamelessly and perhaps a bit manic decide that it’s fair to head over to Alex’s again. 

And I go believing that nothing can go wrong and I can confess some love in that brief moment when you think you can confess everything and you know the person and all will be great, Arielle opens the door as usual, shielding her already done face with bigger lashes than usual from the sun. And I wonder if she takes as much as it sometimes takes me dress up and gel my hair from bed hair in the morning and which one is worse after all from bed hair? Wouldn’t it be easier to brush it all off anyway?

“Sorry, Alex is working today, I just took a day off for myself.” And she takes her jacket, eyes sparkling with a new idea since I may be the new gay best friend again. Arielle smiles at me and gives me a bit of shivers as she puts her arm over mine. “C’mon, you’re Alex’s friend, I want to be your friend too.”

I can see that she’s clearly not thinking that I am fucking her boyfriend or that I don’t want to be her friend at all, but that doesn’t go through the brunette’s mind at all. I decide to play along, as if she were a parent who would show me Alex’s naked baby photos. But then how would Alex feel about this and I think of his lips a bit far too intensely. And I don’t know how he’d feel and I know she would drag me anywhere whether I wanted it or not and I decide to kill time since I forgot that some people have far more strict schedules than deadlines and love. And she’s already out of the door, closing it as if conforming that Alex is really not in the house and I wonder if he had snuck out in the evening and she’s far too relaxed to even think that her boyfriend might be getting pinned by someone else in a different apartment. 

“Did I ever tell you how me and Alex met?” Arielle asks, grinning and I assume that there is literally nothing I can sneak out to, that she’s set on her mind and I’m one to escape until the deadlines are on. But I’m still misty on the fact that I really don’t know what she’s actually trying to get to here. I shake my head, voicing a no and in that ends up being a motion for her to go on. “We met on a party.”

She says but obviously there’s no tone of irony in her voice, because irony can be as heavy as a hammer and comic as one as well in a cartoon and maybe love is a comedy. And her opened topic makes me wonder how had it been for Alex at that time when he had met me. What had crossed through his mind at that point and what had he decided, how much had he lusted for that matter and then I have this faint image of a crying Arielle once she finds out and I wonder how can I even live with this and even head somewhere with her. Or did Alex realize that he had wanted me later on in the night which now in memory I could paint as many stars as I want because memories are always more beautiful than the moment because you forget the scent of anxiety. And how even was it for Alex by the end of the day to fulfill his latest fantasy and how much at stake had it felt or was he solely in a whirlwind of passion at the time and that had been sufficient to kill off any morals and cheat on your girlfriend? And is it fated for you to sin? Does God truly know everything then?

“I know this new bakery, I’ve always wanted to try it, is that okay?” She asks me, snapping me back with her done curls. I just nod, wondering what else would she reveal and what else could she say that she would regret, but you open up to people before you know the things they would speak. And the bakery feels a bit too small and surreal, but I assume it has to match the reason that people should go outside instead of buying a cake in the grocery store and it’s overpriced but I only care because I’m still used to complaining about it, but I end up getting some vanilla thing either way with a name called “Fairy” which I text Jamie about, without thinking and it takes only until we sit that Arielle opens her mouth.

“Oh, is that your boyfriend?” She asks and I can’t even recall if she’s asked me that before. She takes a bite of her pink and purple looking also fairy cake, but I didn’t get the difference of flavors. I shake my head, but she asks anyway. “So who’s the top or bottom, then?”

I widen my eyes, shaking my head, digging the fork into the cake, surprised at the Grindr terminology already.

“Actually we’re both vers, as far as I’m aware of and-”

“Vers?” She asks, swallowing and already taking her phone to get a selfie with the cake and I only wonder if she’s doing this under some hashtag like girls eat which ends up spiraling discussions which end up being the butt of Jamie’s joke or Brian’s as he would try the hashtags to get a bunch of odd comments which would be looked at under alcohol. 

“It’s... when you both-” Arielle interrupts me.

“Fuck at the same time.” I blink at her reply. 

“Take turns, whoever feels like what.” I say, wondering why do I end up being some Gay ED teacher only I’m not telling people they’ll have gay sex and die, on the opposite I’m encouraging young heterosexuals to discover they’re not so straight after all. 

“What if you both want to top?”

“You find a compromise, I’m sure...” I was going to say you have it too, but I realize that I have no idea, I’m still living in the fact that all they do is missionary with no foreplay and that somehow doesn’t work and neither do I want to know. I just shrug, hoping she would switch topic. Jamie replies.

“Who’s Jamie, then?” Arielle doesn’t stop asking, even after posting and tagging the selfie. 

“My friend. We’ve never fucked, if that’s what you’re going to ask next.” She just shrugs, as  if motioning that she wasn’t when she clearly was. Alex’s girlfriend stands up and sits on the chair next to me, putting the camera in front of us and opens her mouth, grinning as she takes a confused selfie with me in it, chewing. 

“Aren’t you sad you haven’t fucked your crush though?” She pouts, looking at me and before I protest she looks at me judging. I don’t put much of an act on and I do text him often in front of her, but then as if she doesn’t but Alex is her alibi. And I feel dreadful when people say that spot on and you’ve got to lie somehow, but instead she pauses. “Well, unless he’s straight then don’t go for him.”

And she looks at me, dead in the eye, before breaking into a new replaceable smile.

“Well, I’d go for anyone who’s good looking, but y’know.” Then she remembers. “And if he’s straight I’ve got a great girl for him. She’s french, lovely, called Valentine, a friend of mine, poor soul broke up recently with her fianc√©. She’s -”

“Jamie’s gay.” I say. “I don’t think he’d be interested in Valentine, sorry.”

I shrug and Arielle, sighs, asking me if I have any straight friends for said Valentine. And I even muse, but me and Jamie had been tight enough to be a married couple for both pair of our parents, allowing them absolutely nothing to the imagination and for some reason we never denied much, believing that perhaps it would be easier to agree with whatever they say just for them to piss off until then only some words would reach us to let us hear whoever had an issue with us, when it came to old school friends but even they drifted off and no one states than anyone barely stays and even your best friend will never become your lover, because you’ll never let anyone in, no matter how dark the night had been and how many records you’ve spun and taken enough alcohol to barely move and you’ll never

never have the guts to kiss the guy you love. And Brian coming along was easier because then I could lie to myself that all was lost and I knew that once they would break up again I would find my way into Jamie’s bed so in a way I was very and utterly pleased that Alex came into my life so that I wouldn’t ended up conflicting with platonic and just let it be, letting my anger into a small game of darts which Jamie had given to me for some holiday and I had wished that I could touch his face but the most I’ve done is help him shave a side after he had some reckless razor burns once. And that was it with a bunch of broken stars. In a way Alex ended up being more than a shag which I was dragging on so that I wouldn’t fall in love again with the wrong man, which I had loved for a good while now. 

And she waits for me to finish the cake, as she’s busy following people back and I just feel that I’m not one to go much into a marketing discussion, so I just keep my mouth shut and she still offers to go shopping as she gets curious in which stores do I even go to and it feels a bit awkward as I see her ask me what would I get Alex as a gift and in the end hours pass, that even Alex calls in on her to ask if he could join us. Which makes it even more awkward and I wonder how come he never notices the flush in my cheek as he gives Arielle a quick peck and she darts off, stating that she had decided on Alex’s gift either way, so we had to get out. I told Alex that I had no idea if it would be the hideous snap back or the really bad mustard coloured button up and he just smiled at me. 

“Hey.” We both ended up saying to each other sheepily and I wondered how many gears had grinded in his head and what the hell was even going on, recalling his homophobic words and looking at him I could barely even recall them and even if he were a harsh eraser how come was he working so well? And he had looked lovely as well and I ignored the vibrating phone in my pocket which was most likely Jamie nagging that he had burnt his cup noodles. And I wondered what was there to even liking a person by the end of the day, was it really some compatibility in sex? What was it by the end of the day or was it really the fact that you could spent time in silence and have it just as meaningful while talking gibberish under alcohol or having the person’s skin under your nails? 

I muse for a brief while, as we head into another store, as dictated to us by Arielle. And then I whisper into Alex’s ear.

“You asked about fantasies, you up for fucking in a dressing room? They’re not too monitored. Even fucking go on your knees if you want to.” And I briefly kiss his neck, as he flinches against me, but grins back, putting his arm around my shoulders, as he randomly grabs a really bad track suit and I grab a few t-shirts and as usual the store only has a few customers trying on some clothing. The mirror is filled with stickers asking for a selfie, but instead he pushes me against the wall, a small thud and we grin, hushing each other as we fumble with each other’s pants and I wonder if sex becomes the drive for love and would sex end up exploding into love and what is that makes you love and how long does it take and is it when you’re love is on his knees?

Instead I mock him by throwing a stripy shirt I had chosen on his head, as he made his way to my underwear.

“You’d look great in stripes.”

“You’re literally saying this moments before I take your dick in my mouth, Miles.”

“I don’t give a fuck, I love you.” Without thinking it much, before colour reaches my cheeks and Alex just looks at me up, a bit bewildered, much more colourful than I am and doesn’t say much, as he takes all of me in his mouth all at once and it doesn’t take me too long to get highly turned on that I have to ask him to slow down and looking at him all flushed and shy all of a sudden gives me far too much tender hope, wondering how much I am out of the loop and how easy it is to fall in love with someone who you barely know, because you can fall in love with the person they wish they are and maybe help them to become that and find yourself and somehow that becomes love.

And I feel terribly guilty for saying it, but I’m so near from his mouth, his fingers stroking the skin of my hips, soft moaning and a bit of gagging when he takes me in too fast when he’s booming that I end up coming is his mouth, cussing out loud, apologizing, but he manages to swallow with a very sour face and I just make out with him, wobbly legged as I press him against the wall.

“I’m sorry.” I say and he knows what’s it for. And he just shrugs, a small grin appears for him to say something cheeky, but instead he just keeps quiet, shrugging and pressing my lips against his own again as I make my way into his underwear, feeling how hot and turned on he is that it only takes a few strong strokes and my had is all sticky and his breath is all lukewarm, spilling against my throat filled with bites now. We don’t say anything, a fantasy turned far too much into some crystal castle, but we remain silent holding each other in our arms, wondering when would midnight strike if it even would at all.


Sometimes I have too many stories that I literally ask Callie what the fuck should I update now xD and she told me to do No. 1 Party Anthem which I've been slowly doing and I've been going through in my head, but not putting it down on paper at that point xD and it's one of my favourite stories and I was nearly done with it and the Alex/Miles video emerged which literally made my entire night xD and I kept rewatching it, thrilled about it and that I was writing this chapter so it even boosted my mood from listening to depressive music and guess that's why the ending is so uplifting xD and now as I'm writing the backstory I've got a fitting listening to an amp as a speaker, No. 1 Party Anthem the song xD giving it a rather matching effect xD

I liked the whole sentence when I came up with it in my head and I wrote it down as Alex's nearly right away:) 

I got back into Jamie's No Wow looks and his whole stage persona with guitar sex during Dropout Boogie and frankly those performances are flawless and it's a Jamie which I used in Canteen I think (I should update it as well xD) but if you haven't seen Jamie do Dropout Boogie you're missing out on the hottest thing ever and the fact that it was a stage stunt makes it even more flawless, because it's just done out through and through perfectly which I guess the closest you could get now is Kissy Kissy but now he just takes the stage himself and frankly it's just you and him fucking his guitar. 

When I first broke up with my first boyfriend or when things were drifting, I would believe that somewhere in a parralel universe we were still happy together and that would keep me going somehow, at the same time that helped me in dettaching from him, knowing that we were both gone. 

I'm still obsessed with Groundhog Day, I just wish the love line wasn't so awful.

I've wanted a talk about Arielle and Alex, so here it is xD don't worry I'll explain it later xD 

I love showing how lovely people can be when it comes to questions, I've had enough of them in my time when I would know how to communicate XD

Pretty much binged the whole thing yesterday night and today, woo

I was laughing at the Valentine shout-out and irony xD

I feel awful coz I'm scared my backstories got worse, but I really jus binge these days and I just saw Arielle taking a selfie and her following people back and what not was just me musing on marketing and all (by the way follow me on Instagram, I'm @noplasticdolltails). 

I was literally writing this chapter like Bakery and then I thought that they would fuck in the Bakery, but I figured that the time wouldn't add up to lunch time so make Arielle drag Miles around for a bit and kind of chunking time got me back into that by reading Mishima (yes, I ordered a copy, time to finish off Forbidden Colours xD) so there was the sex scene.

The Stripey shirt is a homage to the lovely lovely video xD

Like I said the confession was because it just went through my head and as usual I'm terrified it's early but I justified it and I ended the chapter shorter because it was the right time and for once the ending isn't bittersweet but actually happy

I hope you enjoyed it and if you did, please tell me so

Thank you



Monday, 15 June 2015

Relationship Values 5

They say it takes two to divorce but the more it trailed the more it felt as if it was always one who wanted to divorce and I wondered by the end of it why was I even doing it as he was wrapping up the papers and all had been done, walking out I had never felt so angry and empty at the same time, crying when I got back and wondering why had solitude seemed different from loneliness?

And why do we never feel fulfilled with a person, yet we want them so much by our side that we start hallucinating that they’re there stroking our hair? And I recall when I was growing up how Lana calmed me down and I had been crying after some test which seemed like the end of the world and I muttered that I wanted to shave all of my hair off next morning, just announcing it like a bewildered idea and in the morning, Lana shaved my hair off and then I did it even shorter, seeing myself entirely exposed I thought I would cry but in the end it was very heavily enlightening and I felt nude in a good way, as if I could run around everywhere and it didn’t take that long to grow out but during that period I thought that Lana had loved me and just like our childhood and teenage years were intertwined like a braid, we made love a few times and those nights ended up silently slipping in with her holding me to her chest-

Jamie shifts in his sleep and I close my eyes, recalling how I had started wondering who I had been and how come I never liked dresses but then I had grown my hair, still avoiding skirts like the plague and the word female was just clung onto me for having a vagina and I still didn’t understand how that had clung onto me.

He takes a discarded pillow from the floor, smiling at me sleepily, forgetting that we’ve been recently divorced and goes back to sleep.

I start breathing heavier and I have to head out onto the front porch, observing Jamie from the window, as if we were reckless again. 

In the night you’ll be the most honest and when I head in, I pull the covers away from Jamie, which ends up with him instantly trying to grab them, sleeping in underwear which ends up being a knife, tearing my chest open as I see how his whole body is waxed as usual besides the hair above his underwear giving out far too much sexual hints and he sits up, hair messed up and rubbing his eyes. 

“What the fuck is the matter-” He asks and I don’t even know why I stormed in and woke up my ex-husband. And I look at him. We were surely not straight, I never was and he’s had partners of all genders prior. 

“Brian. You dated him back in College, how did he know he wasn’t male?” I state and he just looks at me confused and I recall the time I had pinned him down and took him, but I had told him to never speak of it again because I was female, it wouldn’t make sense that I was someone else. 

Jamie looks at me bewildered and tries to get the covers from me and fails, pushing himself against the pillow behind him. 

“I dunno... he just said that he didn’t felt a mix, but now he identifies as male-”

“But what about then-”

“He just felt like an androgynous mix. That’s what he identified as then, Alison, but I do-” And then he pauses, looking at me more confused before it dawns on him and then he just scratches his head, looking down, shivering from the cold so I throw the bedcovers back at him. “That’s what you wanted to talk about-”

“Yes.” My voice shakes. “You... You always told me how I contradict gender... Do you think that’s-”

“I meant what I said or what I thought... I always knew I wasn’t going for a woman if that’s what you’re asking.” He confesses and at the same time it feels soothing and odd that we’ve barely talked of it but looking back everyone would state how odd our household felt like and how I had never been too feminine and I think of Lana beneath me. Had she known? Had she known who she was going to bed with? But making one ex wake up was enough for one night. And he waits for any of my reactions. “I always told you that.”

His voice breaks anxiously, as he cross his legs, pulling the covers up to his neck, watching me and I just sit besides him. Usually Jamie would hug me, hold me dear but instead he doesn’t do anything and I’m not sure I even want him to and I flinch when he puts his hand on my arm, but he keeps it there before he starts stroking and I get excited from the sole touch, knowing what would’ve awaited me before and it’s a lie if you miss having sex with someone you’ve had it with and it’s odd to know that there had been a moment where you became strangers and you don’t know how was it even like before it did. 

I excuse myself, brushing his hand off, knowing that I would never get him back anyway and my thoughts trail onto Lana as I recall how broken she had been once our parent’s divorced and for some reason that had trailed onto making her worse and worse and then it would be audible and it wasn’t just kissing because we had decided to try it. Just like with any person, if you feel tense, you’ll kiss them because you know that they will kiss you back. And it’s not just Lana, but it had also been with Jamie, when it’s closing in on at 5 am you know where everything stops and you’ll be able to admit to yourself in dialogue that you’re attractive and that someone else is attracted to you. I knew he still liked me, but we both had reasoning, knowing that we would never be together again.

And my mind drifted off to Lana as I locked my bedroom where we had made love. I’ve never fucked Lana here though. I ended up getting our parent’s room and turning the room where me and Lana slept into the small art studio. I pressed myself against the wall, my blonde hair like a halo and the brown roots would show where my end would be, in my head. We had kissed after we were talking how happy we were we had each other and we didn’t flinch, both curious in each other’s body and getting off on the drive that this had been more forbidden than anything, making it far too sexual which is something not everyone would admit, no one admits what they fantasize about in the bedroom, what they get off on. And then we started kissing each other good night for a good while, when you’re kids kissing already feels like having sex. 

So pushing the limits was usually a bit taboo, but we would do it in the middle of the night, exploring each other’s bodies and Lana would giggle that she felt like Lolita in a way and we had both read it and I wondered why did people blame Humbert when Lolita would try to get into his pants as well. I never understood why people twist their arm to blame someone when both were fucking just as equally. And it had been us like that as well. 

My mind trailed off as I got turned on, feeling myself all wet recalling Lana’s mouth and how she had felt underneath me, as I pulled the hem of my shirt, eager to masturbate, but I held myself again. Wondering how she would taste now on my tongue. 

Jamie kept knocking on my door. 


I literally opened it just now thinking that I had more to write but the ending is ideal and I wrote this entire chapter in the span of today and even while watching a football game of Sweden vs Montenegro xD (go Zlatan though xD) and yeah. 

I really wanted to go on and slowly start making Alison discuss her gender identity and I thought quite a lot and pestered Callie a lot because it's her representation so of course I'd ask her and everything. 

I was thinking and my parents divorced but I can't say other than politeness and bitterness anything else influenced, but of course if you have someone around who's divorced you'll write it more accurately and whatnot:) 

My parent's divorce wasn't messy paper-wise so I kind of kept that here. And in general post-divorce is a weird period so I kind of wanted to describe that as well. So I guess by the end it is influenced. 

The hallucination comes from I think Alison's BBC Radio comments really which I found was interesting. I dream rather than hallucinate.

I shaved my hair once, actually before everything collapsed in the UK and I felt very free and content with myself, it's a really liberating thing to do but I like my coloured hair and fringe games so yeah XD 

I think I'm rather clear and maybe a bit cliche because I use the skirt/dress trope when it comes to Alison and talking at night. Sorry, guilty xD

The conversation between Jamie and Alison is a bit like the one I had with Callie because she always knew I was male and I came out to her like 3 times before coming out fully and properly now:) 

I really love that I explore everything I didn't have space for in Poison the Rose, it's a bit of an alternate universe Poison the Rose to be very very honest:) and I love having to explore their past relationship under a much more complex light since now they both knew Alison's gender which grabs onto the fact that Lana never knew or never suspected like in Poison the Rose. I hope it's okay that I talk so much about the other stories xD

I guess I wanted to shed a bit of light because in the bedroom you do role plays which are odd and I think it's weird that people deny what they do or at least keep silent, but I do hate the whole movement that anything sexual is bad again. And the whole older man is the culprit when a Lolita is frankly dying to get fucked. If it's consensual it should never be judged regardless of circumstances and in this case fantasies or situations like here.

I actually don't like Alison's hair but I make it work in my stories, oh well xD

I hope you enjoyed it and if you did, please tell me so

Thank you



Saturday, 13 June 2015

shatter cosmos

People give murder a gender far too often, with an axe in the hands and I wonder why so many murders fall under ovations or plain fear and why gender gives murder a fairer face. Watching photographs dissolve and watching them, as the walls are covered in every single murder I’ve uncovered and every missing person I’ve ended up laying hands on to yank them back home, they all blur and sometimes repeat on both walls as I push my feet from the table, shaking the chair in the process, nearly falling backwards as if I were to fall onto the wooden floor and then have my own eyes blood coloured. It’s not a case of nuisance or any other aspects. I tap on the table, ignoring the coffee machine turning the morning on as I hear low grumbles and I just look back at the papers, drinking more water from the jug, spilling some water into my collar, but I don’t move, my eyes still fixed on the photo of the man right in front of me. 

“Morning.” I grumble as I get a kiss on the cheek and with enough counting seconds, the door will close again and I’ll be left alone to read all the text messages of everything he wanted to tell me in the morning. I still pick up the fucking phone, half an hour later.

“Yeah. I’ll be done by lunch time, let’s eat. Yeah, have a good lesson. Love you. I’ll choose the place. I’ll send you the address.” I leave a voice mail to Elijah, wondering how much longer until all of my hair goes entirely gray, as I cradle my head between legs, wondering how many more men will I interview and end up falling into place. 

Fail becomes like a high school test, ridiculous because more will come and life will never end up not unraveling itself to it’s bloodiest extent. And with the thought of lunch and actually having my mind more made up and knowing where to go, I exit the house, checking the door twice and walking past the fences with the barking dogs, pulling the coat collar up, realizing the forgotten scarf with the newfound April snow of the north. And the car doesn’t even start up on a series of misfortune events until it does. It becomes odd to knock on houses, waiting for the person to show up, instead the missing person shows up as if expecting for pizza.

I look at newly found Brandon’s shaggy, overgrown hair and untrimmed beard which was perfectly kept on photos and I wonder how often had he even hid under the tables for no reason and how long would misery trail a slimy end on his face. Walking in, among the dead animals which leave the cut end shadows on the walls, I wonder what would I even say to a person who ends up being where I had expected it, after putting too many photos together and reminding myself of deaths I had never seen and women who had twirled with their deceased lovers while crying on no ends. 

And it’s never comforting to know that we can disappear with everyone’s fear of never going under the radar, because people will never pick the culprit’s nails to lift them up to hear the dead’s scream. So once one is found and there have been no killers by the end of the day, it becomes as if you’ve found the lost necklace on the other side of the mirror, but it’s never on your side. The question is, how come it is the reflection that never lies?

And how did the boyfriend react to his boyfriend having a lover under his table all this time, watching and I wondered if it had even been a fetish or actual polygamy and it seemed a bit calming rather than having the wife of Brandon accuse that he had been killed by another man, since that’s all we’ve done as she just sat across me and then corrected herself hastily after saying that I should know how men are, as if forgetting who I always was. But that ends up happening to people who knew you before you’ve known yourself, so I left her, as she excused herself and now I’d have to tell her that her boyfriend had indeed been with another man only alive in his arms. And sometimes those had been the worse and seeing Elina cringe just annoyed me at the steering wheel. 

Sometimes cases were pretty boring and just reminded me of how I had missed alcohol after a case, but medication doesn’t mix with alcohol at all and drugs are out of the question so it just becomes far too tiring to even look at dull reality even if at my job it seemed highly ironic to complain and I ended up driving too much around before going back to Elina’s and this was still before lunch time as predicted. I knocked on her door, hearing nothing. And just leaving her a small note in her mail box, asking her to please come out and she hadn’t. 

Maybe Brandon had called before the police got to him. I walked out of the building, smoking already, at least something to haze out on, feeling myself a bit dizzy, wondering if I had stood up far too early, feeling life slip away from me and I wondered if I should’ve had children and I felt odd at the gray area where Elijah said he’d want to make sure all the documents were in place first and we talked about it. He was more scared of becoming a father than I was. 

I didn’t write anything to Elina, just presuming that perhaps it is better to remain quiet until I can speak to her. I end up smoking two cigarettes, walking past the quiet streets past the vinyl stores and underwear stores, still feeling a shiver from bras, knowing that it hasn’t been that long and then I had just started counting my gray hairs. I wondered if they kept coming because I didn’t mind the salt and pepper on my hair. 

“Please don’t forget the job letter.” I wrote to my husband again, holding the cigarette between my teeth, typing with two hands again as if I were lost. And I end up choosing a cafe instead of Elijah, adding that I’m really early getting a coffee in a small local chain, hoping that he would perhaps join me soon and I rub my eyes. It’s a bit odd to think sometimes in small towns when you come from bigger and there seems to be too much going on that you feel as if you’re in a sea of stars, you’ll only matter as a constellation. 


This came out as an idea because I was in love with the character of Alex in Poison the Rose which was investigating Lana's death and I kind of wanted to expand on him but as I was writing I ended up derailing and making an entirely different character and set of characters really. And the second plot which came to was something I was actually going to use for a Dean/Jack Dead Weather fanfiction, so I'll have to use something else there xD so it ended up being two plots mashed up and then as I was writing I realized that there is a subject I haven't touched yet so that's up to the second chapter to speak of it more openly.

Also I do trans characters in fanfiction, but I mostly use it for fiction as then I can make it more personal, but of course Blue/Jacket kind of breaks that rule and is surely the most honest trans story I've ever written and I think ever will, because it's rather painful to write. 

And there's kind of more ground I want to cover and my fiction is something I'm always really scared of since mostly I'm read for fanfiction and that's what I mostly write as well. And I tend to write mostly trans men or fluid or androgynous people really, since that's what's closer and what should have visibility. 

I like detectives even if I don't watch too many or read too many and mostly because I don't like weak love lines anywhere and detective ones are mostly where that falls under unfortunately. I do plan on rewatching and watching a few things to get more inspired. I think Life on Mars inspired this greatly and I'll be rewatching it. 

I'm bad with names so I went with a generator giving me ideas and I ended up going from there with Elijah. Elina comes from the sole fact that when I was growing up I used to be obsessed with this comic called W.i.t.c.h. and they translated Elyon to Elina and I liked that name, mostly because I used to admire this girl which was older and we were friends and she said that Elina was more prettier than Elyon. I grew up rather lonely and she had been a great friend. We don't keep in touch, but I hope she is well and unfortunately falls under the category where I wouldn't come out to, because of fear. When I was growing up I only had like two or so female friends which I was attracted to so I was actually friends with many girls and was annoyed at their whole desire of making me their boyfriend or making advances because I wasn't into women, even if I mused on my sexuality. 

I stopped going gray actually, power of... vitamins and health? I still like gray haired characters. I remember when I used to volunteer there was a butch woman (I can't really go on assuming genders now and it's for one to identify not for me to tell) and I loved how masculine she was and I was always sad that I couldn't get to talk to her because I looked up to her and she had full gray hair. Her girlfriend was lovely. 

For once I actually based it roughly in my head on where I live. Ah, mystery, where do I live in Sweden. I like taking the piss XD We had snow in April and I had started writing this story around then. 

I did the final binge today with a good part of the second chapter.

I found out that I can't drink alcohol it doesn't go at all with my medicine, so bye alcohol. I just loved a drink of cider like a unit per week, so I'm fucked xD and of course I mop about it today xD 

It's odd because I thought of many plots which open up and my lips are sealed.

I need a title. I am listening to Half of Us and I obviously like the line "the heartbreaking sound of my town beats the heartbreaking sound of your town" but that's a long line and a steal, so I wanted a loud kind of word which was a sound and I thought of heartbreak and shattering and cosmos is there because we speak of constallations and it sounds pretty fucking actually xD

If you liked it please tell me as I'm anxious xD

thank you always