Pillshop 3

I stay awake at night, when all is asleep and the television just shows reruns for insomniacs, I pray to make sure I’m not awake during the day and it’s always Kate who storms in with her persona, yanking me by the hair, telling me to awake and to mix green with blue and I’d light a cigarette, chunking the morning (in the afternoon) activities together as we’d head to the garage, and I still yawning in slippers would just mix the fungi, watching her clap as I’d give her the finished product and watch her dissolve and say how she would spread it, as I would just think of sleep and my lone self to please at night.

I want to throw her left earring out of the window when she leaves, the damn thing forgotten as depression slowly seems to root itself in.

I go back to the confession box. I’m sure he’s pissed at me for never confessing. I’m sure the American thinks I’m daft, otherwise he’s daft. 

“I... still do bad things.” I swallow and put my hands in my pockets, I wish I could smoke in church. “I mean, she told me to do it, so I did, not like... she forced me or anything, I just decided to do it, y’know?”

He listens. 

“She can’t abort.” 

“What the fuck?” I snort and I start laughing, pressing myself harder against the wood, but I press my hand against my mouth. The laughter comes out muffled and the priest just sighs, I’m sure he’d want to bang on the wall, but he doesn’t. 

“If God intended the child, the child should be born.” I click my tongue as he says it. I wonder how many morons like me visit church so very often and how come I haven’t been holy enough by now. I start raiding my sling bag for eyeliner and some small black mirror Kate had given me. He talked of abortion and I started putting on eyeliner.

“Mom wanted to abort me.”

“See, good thing she didn’t.”

“If I were to commit suicide now, it would be the same thing, my mother’s thoughts which are now mine take my life away.” The priest is silent. I keep talking and make sure that he cannot interrupt my line of thinking, as I press myself heavier against the wooden box I trapped myself in, pleasing to the pain, feeling patches of my sanity shatter, anxiety take me by the throat and carry me, my limbs no longer cooperating and just becoming thunder. “If epilepsy is seen as something... bad. What about mental health. If people covered people with epilepsy attacks with blankets. What does that make it with mental health.”

I answer my own reply.

“It’s no connection, I just don’t want to hear that everything I do is my own fault, I don’t want to think that I sin. I want to think...” I see his eyes watch me, as he leans a bit lower as I trace my fingers over the wooden barrier, making it feel anonymous. I still have fear for the medication never starts working. “That the sins I commit are God’s even if I were to believe. I do, but I want to know they’re intended.”

“God makes everything for a reason, but you pay for your own sins.” He sighs.

“But if God makes everything, why do we reply for God’s mistakes...” I wonder. “Like war.”

“We are the children, a child carries their parents karma, if you want me to speak.” The priest sighs. “We make our God.”

“That’s not very church-like of you to say.” I mutter, feeling my tongue wrap, as I press my ear, feeling the wood dig me in. 

“When you’re enlightened you understand how difficult and simple everything is.” I’m sure he smiles. “The mystery makes it difficult to understand and when you know, it’s not that the appeal is lost, you just know and that makes it simple. Knowing God’s essence, makes it simple to understand and unravel, but that does indeed not explain the sins, but it’s not your sins to keep in mind and pray.”

He turns his head away, as he stands up and open the confession box to face me. He’s much taller than I am and this is far from the first time we’ve met, but his face seems to speak so. Maybe God did visit him last night.

“I still think I would describe myself as flamboyant.” I keep talking. “I wore a black and gold skirt last night, as I was doing chemistry homework.”

Drugs.

“I think...” And he pauses. “As long as you seek God, which you happen to do.”

“What makes you think I seek God?” I speak out fast.

“You come to church too often, you had wanted to see me, you would’ve asked outside. God wants you here.” I blink at his words and shrug, pulling my legs up to cross them and then I rethink and sit on them, observing the priest. I just look at him, I just shake my thoughts for his sake.

-

I can't even recall when I started writing this, I think I had a bit written and then I just picked it up today and wrote a bit, but I'm proud of myself that I'm slowly coming back to track.

Since I write 500 when it comes to spiritual encoununters and what not, it's odd now writing Pillshop when Jamie doesn't have that gift, since I've let myself give Alex a few encounters and if I want to speak of something, I use Alison as well, speaking of, I should really post a new chapter of To Miles since a lot is happening in the chapter I've written/finishing off. I think of this story so often and the plot was decided so long ago, that I don't even remember all my notes since the first chapter of Pillshop is really old and I shelved the story, but either way, I know when I'm going and I like it.

I dunno, I always liked it and yeah. I'm a bit anxious right now since I've been rather withdrawn from being online and that obviously affected my posting and I'm trying to get myself back, so here I am and I'm proud of myself, just really tired and pissed off, obviously. I'm sorry and yeah. I'm back and I'll try to have stories every day up again since I've got a lot of stuff written and etc:) 

And obviously I've been writing now I'm back to binging even if it's smaller, thing is, hate gets to you and it makes you stale at times. I mean I can take people making a meme out of my writing and hate, but death threats and personal arguements regarding my gender really tore me, frankly, so I should talk about it more openly and I guess expression is something I've been struggling and I noticed how many of my men through stories share similiar expression even if most of my characters stick to traditional, I felt like I could give Jamie my skirt here for Pillshop. I'm actually wearing it and it's lovely and male, mind you xD

So yeah, I've also been thinking a lot about fiction lately because historical facts which aren't touched properly because they're gay is sad, like To Miles is frankly nearly the only gay navy story written which is fucking bizarre, so yeah.

Regarding abortion it's something I was asked last time in church and then I was just told that I was forgotten to be warned about that talk so yeah xD

Abortion was something actually I discussed with a close friend of mine a while ago and the discussion came because I had it and how many were thought to be aborted. I wasn't the case, so yeah, that slipped in here.

I think suicide and church's interpretation is fucked up, but I go by the church is open to everyone, interpretations are wrong belief which I was told and which holds me, so I apologize if this chapter is more religious but Jack is a priest here and Jamie goes to church.

Epilepsy and the covering was a story, which I heard and traumatized me because people saw the person as possessed and it was seen that way and mental health from what I've seen isn't better, specifically certain disorders. 

It's a bit weird writing characters which are distinct from you and kind of jumping to their shoes, but fun for sure.

I had to touch war. We all think of God and war, even if once you get it it's easily explained, really, so yeah.

I kind of went on to think, not knowing and not stating my own assement, but think if not, then let's think on with children and God (NGE style not really xD)

Jack's words regarding God are closer to my own in this case.

I frankly picked up to write Pillshop due to the fact that I wanted to describe my skirt, because I'm tired of men being portrayed as with some light stubble and pants and minimalistic things, because I love my gold and black skirt. I just really love it ok? XD so yeah, I kind of want to I guess as narcisstic as it is make the men a bit more like me, just like anyone, we want to read about ourselves. 

And flamboyant is my favourite word to describe myself.

Everything is fated, so yeah, that's where the end of this chapter comes from.

I hope you enjoyed it and tell me if you did

<3

Jamie

500 4

When I wake up next morning I already can’t remember the exact thought because it had been about Jack and it had already given me the anxiety and allowed denial of the warm feeling, because even I wanted it to go nowhere. The selkie is already nowhere to be seen, but I see my clothes scattered and I presume he had decided along with the opened closets with leftover clothes, that all was for him to dwell upon and choose as attire. I dress up, hastily making myself breakfast before I leave out to realize how early he had woken and dragged me along with him, as I solely exit the premises, now the cats leaving with me and I think I see a shadow and I don’t look up, feeling his presence, as I stroke the cat, as the cat’s skin and fur stretch, it’s back arched and I look up, trying to hold the channel closed, but he’s there, standing, towering for now above me as I stand up and I see him, but not his physical form and then he smirks and starts walking fast towards the bridge, faster and faster, as if dragged somewhere and he quickly looks past his shoulder to see me as he just goes up the hill to the house.

And that’s where I see Jack smoking with the two school boys, now dressed as they all are smoking cigarettes and I see an ouija board in the middle of all of them. 

“Fuck.” And I see him behind Jack, his nails slowly trailing on the selkie, slightly moving his hair and my whole body freezes as I just make a run towards them. 

“We’re trying to summon the Devil.” One of the school boys says, his eyes beaming and Jack just shrugs looking at me. The one with the longer dark fringe, just nods. The Unspeakable just lets go of Jack and looks at me. They can’t see him yet. 

“Don’t.” I barely mutter, feeling his gaze upon me again. They all turn to face me and try to watch me as my eyes just focus on the Devil himself, as my blood keeps going colder and colder, they open the channel and he just laughs, as his physical appearance becomes clear and they all gasp, Jack turning around and they all watch him in awe, no questions uttered. 

He crosses his arms on his chest, watching all four of us, slowly, as the two boys just stare  confused and one of the boys even tries to reach out and I just slap his hand as the Unspeakable, fuck, he’s here anyway, just laughs at me. My whole body starts shaking. 

“Please leave.” I mutter and he just tilts his head to one of his sides and I get a good look at him. His long black hair and dark make-up, dark attire and skinny posture, the books never tell you which appearance he will ever take, for every person it’s different and I’m guessing he just had to feel my presence, just to gamble with me again. He sighs dramatically, rolling his eyes, happy at the circus in front of him, Jack just staring, the two boys beaming as if they had summoned a puppy. 

“I don’t think I’m that unwanted as you want me to be, Jamie.” I raid my pockets for nothing as he watches me. 

“No, no, please stay. Holy fuck, Alex, it’s the fucking Devil.” I just glare at the two boys and he just looks at them, a bit mockingly hurt by their disrespect, as he just sits besides Jack. I am the only one left standing. He opens his arms.

“See? I’m invited. They opened the ouija board, asking for the Devil and voila, here I am.” He smirks and pats Jack’s shoulder. He claps his hands together before a deck emerges. “Any gambling the old fashion way?”

He asks, hair moving as he moves his head from side to side, pointing the deck at everyone. 

“Are you in a fucking hurry, then?” I snap, before I can hold and he just laughs. All your thoughts are nearly said out loud as I feel his presence slowly open my channel, as I can feel him towering above me, his attire sinking into the shadows and becoming flames as I close my eyes, feeling his nails trace against my skin and I bite my lip, holding a groan, apologizing out loud.

“Exactly, that’s better, James. Respect your elderly.” He replies, pointing towards my right jeans pocket. “Cigarettes please.” 

I hold from telling him to summon some satanic tobacco, but I just stretch it to him, but his eyes glister as I give him one cigarette, as everyone else is still smoking and I feel like this is a two-man show as Jack and the two boys still observe me, as he plays me. 

“Fucking refuse.” I feel heavier by the minute, my mind nearly blanking me out. He must’ve been the heavy weight in the woods, as we were biking, but that doesn’t stop him from starting to shuffle as Jack just keeps watching me and that’s when the Devil just watches us as Jack sits closer to me, as my head starts spinning as if I were on a sideways swing and I feel nausea building up within me. Jack blinks a few times before he just pushes me so that my head is on his lap and the Devil just watches us.

Fuck.

“James, my offer is always... always standing.” The Devil says, now shuffling the cards above me. “Or we could do a quick game.”

I just shake my head, watching him shuffle the cards far too fast that all of them could be spade aces and I would never see, barely seeing his fingers and then he just looks at Jack as I try to stabilize my breathing. 

“Jack?” Jack just shakes his head, his fingers in my hair and the Devil just keeps grinning then back to the boys, as the silence is held. 

“Ask him to leave, you summoned him!” I nearly yell, but they just stare at the Devil. Then they look at me before the boy with the longer fringe places the pointer back on the Ouija board. 

“Please leave.” The other boy moans and that’s when the Devil stands up. He observes all of us, stands up and slowly vanishes, but he’s still in my mind for a while, his fingers now on my forehead, as I still see Jack watching me. 

“Close your channel.” The Devil mutters before I concentrate on closing it and then I feel all energy leave me and I feel myself pass out on Jack’s lap. 

When I wake I think I feel Jack’s fingers on my cheek but when I open my eyes he’s sitting in the chair opposite, flicking through some newspaper from a nearby stack and I look around to see Alex with the other boy with the long fringe talking loudly as the noise slowly comes to me, as I look at them and by just catching a glimpse of their discussion, I quickly check my watch, before Jack can even greet me.

“No fucking discussions after midnight. Fucking spare me.” I rant, pulling my sleeve back to hide the watch and I throw myself back on the couch as they just watch me and I hope somehow my words will hit home.

“Evening, Jamie.” Jack smirks at me, slightly raising his dark eyes to look at me and I feel my cheeks heat up a bit as I nod back, wondering if I could even master to talk to him and the whole attraction seems far too infectious. It’s as if I almost wished I hadn’t blacked out and had some dream of him so that it would nourish my attraction, even if once you step over the line it only always gets worse. My dreaming gets stopped as I keep eyes on the two blokes and for some reason I recall them fucking so I close my eyes a bit just to open to see Jack narrowing his eyes at me before letting himself back on the newspaper. 

“What are they doing here, anyway?” I mutter, nearly into the blanket and Jack ignores my question, even turning a page, legs crossed and I let my eyes rest on him as he had changed into some old dark gray shirt of mine and jeans I wonder how did he even squeeze into those, maybe he shrunk and I’m not aware of it as I glance back at Alex and his friend, whose name I’ve yet to know. 

“Jack said he’d rather have us here than summoning since you fainted. What was that all about?” Jack pretends to ignore Alex’s questioning and goes back to reading old newspapers and I wonder how much more dull would they be without reminding of how much we are in turmoil, that Christmas’ December will stroll in but the world is too busy covered in ashes to notice the lack of snow. 

Everything is awfully dull and I don’t even know how much further would our misery expand and if with each day it would just make everything easier to accept, the fatality that we ourselves would detach from reality for we are not the ones on the battlefield, as months went and I had moved, I started wondering how sinful even was it of me not to think of war. 

Looking back everything had its own dystopia feel and under the wrecks of the last days I had spent it only begun to get worse, the streets whitened, business shortened and people just frankly scared because it would happen any minute in any of the undergrounds or over grounds and it was just a matter of sitting as if your position would affect it in the train.

I shake my head, shaking away the crowds or empty trains or blowing steam on the window or just idly sitting thinking that this were the end, that one move was suffice.

I wonder in what flavors would our holidays even be wrapped in, since we seem to be getting nothing as chilly to even cover the ground with. I wonder of the tree and if I would even call Alex and his other friend, but then who are we if not to take others as family in time where death is thicker than any snow to walk upon on this land?

And the dreams of snow come with hidden memories of kissing far too much, I try to shoo my daydream state dipped in night away. And thoughts come sooner before you realize, they come in dream sequence because love comes instantly, it is the mind which allows you to realize how deep it goes later. And the fear strangles me and I excuse myself to see him as something else, some shallow explanation that we are both someone else for society, the fact that I had talked with the unleashed presence from an ouija was far from normal and his entire existence was only dipped in mythology for me. So maybe when it comes as attraction we shouldn’t see it as something unusual if we ourselves define paranormality. 

“I hate how people think because I don’t support one side, that means that I’m fully on the other. I just actually know who kills who and who just looses people on their side to keep some alive.” I breathe, Jack’s eyes now on me and I hope that Alex and his boyfriend would recall us to pour tea. Anxiety would start hitting me as I had just moved here, before this house, wondering what the fuck should I do, where would life go, money was saved and of course the hysteria was oblivious, more jobs were made with ideology lost and gained, but I felt like I needed a piece of mind for now.

"Why don’t you believe in God, though?" Jack keeps reading. "You mentioned it earlier to the…"

He pauses and I wonder if selkies would feel.

"Barber." Perhaps now or could be a lying fucker.

"Maybe because I haven’t met him, I have no idea. Evil makes sense, good doesn’t." I shrug.

He swallows and keeps looking at photos and turns around to point at a photo of protests which turned far too bloody and I can only presume the newspaper is around a year old.

"Never think they would fall, actually, didn’t think it would ever get bloody there. Makes you wonder." He widens his eyes turning the newspaper back and I hear Alex and his friend turn on the kettle, uninvited.

"Well, it makes sense that they would fall, was following the pattern and makes it easier to remind us of havoc. Of course when they would fall since they are the metaphor of our world, so would we all." I smile bitterly, pushing my fringe back, before regretting it and Jack keeps reading old articles to catch up and I wonder how long had he been a seal and if word of mouth even reached him regarding the war and how would it even touch him. As if he had read my mind he raises his eyes and narrows them. “It also confirms in their eyes, that if they fall then the world for them falls, because for us it takes anyone, so...”

Jack shrugs. I wonder how much had he even kept in touch with politics and I don’t even know how much had passed since him and Meg. 

What powers do selkies even have?

And it felt as if more people would be interested in talking to whoever would speak, forest or not. I had that asked and I just shrugged, on my way here, that I would, I could settle here, I was told were a place would be and that if I were to just allow people to speak with more than just people, people would come. I wondered when would I get a call and how long would it even take for the dark long haired man to come as well. I felt sleepy all of a sudden, hugging myself, Jack’s eyes still caught on me. 

Seasons make no sense anymore. 

Tea is no longer comforting and all the scribbling to get out of the mind, to keep sane and keep my own voice hushed just makes it worse, people’s belief that all is fine is draining because everything had been declared and it wasn’t just blood spilling, but lives ending at a great speed, going through with the dark cloak through all the seas and land. 

Jack doesn’t speak a lot, so how am I supposed to know him? But his silence gets all the gaps filled which explain a few things, preserved to my daft mind and my mind wanders towards Meg as the two boys do bring tea over to the living room. Maybe we should expand downstairs, it is a house after all, but like any house, it has softer places and upstairs seems to be it and not to roam at night or any time to be honest.

I miss watching who would be asleep, because I would have some knowledge of who was awake and a melancholy of feeling that all was in depth sleep, while with the forest all was awake and dark. Apart from me, something I had only dipped my toes in yet luring.

Anxiety sleeps tucked in the night, not to be bothered at any times or cost, yet when it wants it shows up and I keep looking at Jack, feeling my body go through a heat wave and I wonder if it’s a sign of working mildly heaters.

I know that Alex and his boyfriend are here and they seem to be my only node of reasoning as I wonder for my bulging desire for the selkie, he seems to lure as if he were a siren.

"Jack… Do Selkies lure like Sirens?" I ask, presuming that sirens are also real.

"Nope, we do kill asshats like you… If they flirt." He narrows his eyes at the text his reading, not allowing someone less thick skinned his attention. I pout mockingly as he raises his eyes and looks at me before returning to old reading. Apparently me and Jack are like a play as the two boys just keep looking at us amused. Jack puts the newspaper down, sighing and taking a sip. 

I wonder how had he even looked as a seal. 

I wonder if we’ll have a future and Lana del Rey would be covered as something artsy just like people would cover these days and I pause, wondering which songs are released as feet drag lives under, soon enough to be their own and I wonder how much more wouldn’t care and would have the diluted desire for some peace and war end, no duality, just plain stubbornness in nothing. 

“I’m not gay, unlike... all of you.” Jack says pointing at all of us in a circle.

“Thanks, Jack, we wouldn’t have known.” I reply in haste, ticked off and bit more sober who I want to pounce on. 

-

I think it's... even symbolic since me and Callie moved back to the house where 500 is set, well, I just really like the region and the story built itself here and I've been itching to post this chapter and well, obviously is a very haunting chapter and I've written perhaps two more chapter of 500, so I really have to keep my mouth shut.

The region is very very... active, it has lots and lots of Spirits and it's really easy to frankly feel or come in contact, if you wish so. But then, I kind of always could sense and I'm not one to bother or talk, so yeah. And also, it's the only time me and Callie have encountered a ghost which I was asking about on tumblr. 

Anyway, just like any time, please don't go summoning or being all brave and checking things out. Stay by your side and well, just like you don't disturb people on the street just don't.

But either way, I've loved writing this story and it also touches explicitly on bizarre encounters I've had and of course I'll include more, since I've had a few and this region is very active. Also if you're religious, prayers are always handy or simple phrases like "please leave" work just as fine. 

I always add this to 500.

The cats actually always check up on me and I'm like... gees, don't shove it in my face xD

To be honest, as disrespectful as it is, I choke on a laugh when it comes to Miles lines in the story, please don't mess with an Ouija Board, enough people did it for you to google it xD

Or even ask me and I'll tell you some encounter I've had since I've been visited a few times by a bunch of different ones through life, just no Ouija Boards and neither do I encourage any type of summoning. I mused on it, if you're interested in feeling I guess what it's like it's ok to go somewhere at daylight and be quiet and pay attention, because many of those places are forests or frankly really pretty cemeteries, but don't, I'm just saying if you're itching, that's how my head is most of the time only with visuals at times and conversations.

So that's why I like 500 because it's so descriptive and interactive and I talk about it, openly, really.

Ok, well, frankly, I don't really know obviously what I encounter at times and I leave it that and of course in stories I start speculating and patching things together, when I did, I wasn't sure and yeah, over time I guess I thought it over. It was very very bizarre and I think only another encounter could maybe top with it in oddness? Bizarreness? Anyway, you get it. Again, shape-shifter so I don't really speak of what I had seen, so Jamie here in 500 has his own version if you must. If it helps, you know what you encounter. 

I think the fact that the shape-shifting happens it's fairly odd that you can see people you know and etc, so I used that and it's also discussed in '-' in a different aspect as well.

Regular summoning works rarely as I found out, but when I had it, I had my "portal" yanked out for a very very good while and it was a mess, I literally fucked up and I went movie style to explore and that resulted in my portal being yanked open and I don't even know how much I had encountered that night. So it's really something out of the ordinary unless y'know you have been chosen to be visited to be asked of an offer, I presume. Again, I can only speak from experience and from what I've read.

The cards idea came from one of my favourite ghost stories which I had heard back when I visited Glamis Castle, basically some dukes of sorts were playing cards and you can't play cards on a Sunday, but they kept playing, He showed up and they joyfully said "I wish we could play forever" and they did. The room is now locked and at some time and day if you drink enough, you hear. And in general I like card motifs since I fortune tell on them :) so I took that briefly.

There are some rules I follow, like not discussing such topics after midnight outloud, so yeah, I'm silent now xD and just posting it and all xD (I know, but hey, encounter stuff I did and you'd be just as cautious) 

When I had written it, I didn't believe, I guess, yeah, now, I consider myself Religious and yeah, but I'll surely speak of that later on when the time in 500 comes. 

Staying here and in general since I was a child I would stay up late and I enjoy watching buildings with barely any lights on or all off. I dunno, yeah and I speak of it often in stories.

Also I've been very inactive, I'm sorry, I'll be changing that and soon enough back to my one-a-day so yeah. And 500 is fitting because it's one of the most realistic I've written giving the feeling of dystopia I have with war going on, even if in 500 it's kind of set during some dystopic WWIII scenario which I relate to and all. 

I love this story for being open with it on different subjects which I don't usually cover too often.

I hope you enjoyed it:3

And thank you so much

<3

Jamie

England's Not Breathing

It becomes regular when others don’t know and all is glossed up to believe whatever we should be saying and we are not, the tunes we actually listen to are different and we all make our own scene and all becomes revolting which the government dictates, but we don’t even speak properly amongst ourselves. 

We scrap at the pasts we wish we’ve had. 

And we know we cannot build the futures we would want to. 

Neither we can drink ourselves there so at times we just rattle ourselves there, with alcohol and not. It seems the oddest of places to even discuss what the fuck Pete even wants, but he’s got the night in his hands with a fucking ushanka on his head, claiming that his great gran whatever would be proud and I’m not sure she was there at the time, but that’s besides the fact and he already gets us two pints, as the bar fills up and I quickly glance at the queerly (naturally) attractive singer, which had been filling up the gay bar with his band for the past few weeks, making all of us think a bit deeper. 

I pause on him, as he seems unaware of the beauty of his own voice, until Pete yanks me by the t-shirt and just shows me the lyrics he’s been working on. I have no idea how he had even managed to already get drunk, but I presume he just stocked up back home as well, as he keeps talking and I’m barely reading his scribbles upside down until he hands them over.

“Yeah, I think I’ll... come up with something.” I mutter as he just nods, approvingly before lighting a cigarette and turning towards the stage. I keep my eyes fixed on the singer, which has been quite a regular and I notice that Pete traces my eyes, smirking and scribbling some more, as I wonder if the singer even has a boyfriend, as I’ve barely even seen him do anything. I’ve seen him with someone who could’ve been a partner and once played with their band instead of him and I wondered briefly on the singer’s sexuality, since he were in a gay bar. They seemed very on and off, from what seemed to be. 

“Would you play it live with me, though, Graham?” Pete asks suddenly before I look at his deer eyes, shaking my head, smiling.

“No, no, it’s your solo, I’m just helping you find the right way. It’s ok, don’t worry.”

“You could be a support band of sorts.” Pete smirks, blowing a smoke ring and widening his eyes, as more crowd fuel singing starts as people start recognizing songs which might’ve managed to leave Camden and make it to the charts or some local shop, since I heard they got signed or released some EP. I wondered how much would it even be able to make it, the world still seemed very obscure in all it’s matter, maybe not all due to depression, but it still seemed awfully idle and today it was bathing in glitter and some fluttery crush feeling, because you associate the songs with the singer. 

“I’ll be happy enough if you let me do your cover art.” And that’s when Pete shakes my hand and the set ends for the night to remind us, that frankly we gay people should be listening more to Pet Shop Boys than some punk music, as I stab the cigarette against the ashtray, as Pete keeps looking at his scribbles, but he doesn’t pay attention as I dutifully watch every inch of the equipment get taken away by the band themselves.

“Why don’t you talk to him, though?” Pete says, forcibly digging his pen into paper to cross out some glorified capitalized FUCK in the middle of the song with a few people dancing around it.

“Excuse me?”

“You drag me here every night to see that bloke and he’s...” Scribble, scribble and now it’s a hole in the paper. 

“Off for the night and he could be in your bed and all you do is pray that he’ll be playing tomorrow. It’s not like you even like pubs that much. You’d usually buy beer downstairs and drag me with you to your room or something.” Pete tries to catch my eye. “Just... saying.”

I just shake my head. Pete sighs, taking out another notebook, already half scribbled and tearing a piece of paper out of there, as he watches Scarfo frankly start to actually vanish into the small crowd. He taps his fingers on the table.

“I know a bloke who’s friends with the singer, if you’re interested, now that I think of it.” I raise my eyes at my friend. He continues watching the stage until Pet Shop Boys reminds us that we’re all sinners. I keep silent, as if I weren’t interested. 

“I’ll ask him, maybe then he can arrange something, it’s not like we’re in kindergarden. Although...” He looks at me. “You’d at least maybe ask to play in his sandbox then-”

“Fuck off.” I shove him, taking the ashtray in my hands. “It’s not like I only come here to watch them live-”

“Yeah and that’s why you only drank a pint.” As he says it, I glare at him, flipping the ashtray over without thinking, ending up all covered in ashes. I curse, swatting it off my jeans, sulking and feeling myself redden but I try to tell myself that the crowd is either too high, too drunk or too dancing to even care, but it doesn’t work as much as Pete hands me a napkin. 

“I’ll ask Damon to ask for you. Happy? Or you can ask Damon.”

“Who’s Damon?” I ask, trying to go over in my head in the poor list of Damons but all I can think of is maybe some dad’s mate he was friends with due to work back when we lived in Germany. 

“Ok, I’ll bring Damon over here tomorrow, since we’re stalling poor Scarfo here for no good shagging reason.” And soon enough the bar is left with some sinners leaving.

“Can we get beer?” I ask or rather state, as I pull Pete into the small newsagent right next to the dormitory, as if reminding students to take their daily intake of alcohol to drunk to forget what growing up is supposed to feel like or rather remind it, before I even let him say anything, I’m already near the fridge, looking at the beers, as if wondering what would a choice of tonight be.

“You just couldn’t drink up in the bar, could ya?” He smirks, as he leans against the fridge as if waiting to catch my eye to judge me again. I try to avoid Pete as much as I can, as I get anxious, as if I hadn’t known that Pete would keep giving me the side-eye since we ended up being sidekicks and had both checked out gay bars just to be disappointed until I had seen Scarfo perform and then I felt hooked, I was interested but I could never do anything, besides walk out on a guy who took out his dick in front of me in the loo. He continues in his own thoughts.

“You know, we’ve got this person in our literature class. They read out their story, the idea was that the mom of the kid was a witch and made a potion or whatever and that’s how she created a soulmate for her son. The soulmate was another boy, that made me smile and I wonder to this day, what happened on after their first meet. The person stopped going to class. I honestly wonder what’s the ending and the idea... it keeps growing in my head. I wish I had done it, y’know.” Pete smiles, sadly as I stop choosing the no choice of beer, as I watch him, the possibilities running through his head, as his hat is still in tact reminding of some soft sadness. 

-

As ironic as it is the title comes from what I thought was a Jamie quote to then be pointed out by Callie that it's a line from Scarfo's Skinny, so it was left as such, corrected and etc.

I just added the last paragraphs as I had wanted it in, I felt bad that since I've never written from Graham's point of view before it was challenging even if it's my first ever band pairing and they opened me to the world of bandfic. 

Basically I wasn't even planning to do Gramon frankly, but I got asked to do Gramon and frankly because I love Blur with all my soul and I used to be a huge Blur fan and I ship Gramon with all my soul to this day, I recalled that frankly when I was researching Scarfo I found out that (this is public knowledge, so fuck it) they would play in this specific gay bar in Camden where Blur would visit along with Pulp, Suede, Elastica and etc and supposedly it was known as were "Britpop" was born so that was fascinating to me, because I love Blur and thinking of Gramon making out to Scarfo made my weeks. But I left it as such, so I had found that out literally accidentally and well confirming I guess Damon/Graham if you must.

So when I got asked about Gramon I fangirled imagining frankly this AU with Graham being all shy and listening to Scarfo as he and Damon have shenanigans, so it was frankly another way for me to squeal over what I had randomly found out and I think it's even up on wiki or something. I frankly keep my sources shut, but it's all google, I never really e-mailed anyone or anything or stalked anyone. All is first page google. Don't forget that I work with SEO so that helps me a lot xD But then we've all raided and found whatnot, so here we are

So that's how the idea was born

Also I love Pete's solo and the fact that he had Graham help him makes it even more special to me, so I wanted them as friends here and I really love Pete and obviously I have a soft spot for him because I lived a fair amount in the UK and we both have Russian blood so there's that xD 

I tried my best to describe Scarfo live and here am I.

I dunno my experience of British Gay Bars always narrows down to Gaga, del Rey and Pet Shop Boys and the said gay bar I mentioned had a framed poster of PSB, so here we are. I just love the mentions to them for some reason here xD I was awfully anxious writing this whole thing and I calmed down by reading it out to Callie, frankly as she laughed through the whole thing, because well, I wanted to make it funny and capture both Graham and Pete darling.

Ah, yes, the idea of I know this bloke Damon who knows Jamie was so appealing and here it is. I dunno, I just get flared up with an idea and I can't stop until it's out even if I've written like 1.5 k of To Miles earlier today xD

I rarely talk about other people's fanfiction and besides I think maybe Gagging Order (which in my opinion is the best love story ever written, it's Radiohead fanfic and I usually re-binge it through in a day and it's huge), well this story it only ever had one chapter and after Gagging Order it ranks my second best ever fanfiction or written piece. It was one post on one LJ blog, one fucking chapter and that was it. I read it back when I was like what 14? 15? No fucking idea even xD anyway, I spent the past hour trying to find it. I just wanted some homage to it because I never touched that idea and I just really loved it, so here's my ode to it. It was an AU and I miss it and it was beautiful and I can't find it anymore T___T 

I really hope you liked it and I'm awfully shy now because it's odd that I've never really written Gramon before and here I am with my fucking new Britpop and Blur knowledge and I used it xD because I tend to research a lot on Scarfo and whatnot and hey, that was useful elsewhere xD

Anyway, I've got to think more on the Damon/Graham bit and I love it

I ship them and I've always shipped them and it's lovely to be back with them even if they make me think of this near-ex I've had, some other girl in the past which I was female with, so yeah, she was a big Blur fan and we would fangirl over Damon and Graham a lot, as we would with the Manics, so it's quite nostalgic in a way of, shit, that was ages ago and I'm finally writing about them sort of way

Anyway, I'm back and Blur is back for me and I missed them and here's to more Gramon from me now apparently xD

PLEASE TELL ME IF YOU LIKED IT XD

Originally it was going to be from Damon's point of view but I shifted after a few paragraphs as Graham seems easier to write to me >.> think of all the Jamie stories I've written, I wouldn't handle Damon and I love Graham and I had the best of time revising him as I reread the articles about Blur in gay clubs with Scarfo and Graham interviews as well as squealing over Pete

Thank you

<3

Jamie

To Miles 50

“Even if we love some people, we’re not ourselves with them.” Jamie’s words haunted me the next day in the canteen, as I looked at Miles. It would get shallow on the longer days, as words would circulate and thoughts were more than vocal on the world’s state and how would even people manage to raise their hands to kill, even if we had pledged that we would do so as well. Talking about deaths and events becomes a narrative, because it’s still a heavier word of mouth and journalism emphasizing what was going on and people highlighting, as if it were some fucked up folklore to scare children, only we were all grown men and hearing these during the day during coffee, as if to digest what should we imagine during the day, resorting to calmer things during the night just to hear the same again in the morning. Countries falling start resembling milk teeth falling out, with the little resistance we can even manage, all of us with the same blood yet we all scatter it, implying some were purer than the rest. Cities falling and people speak much more of how everything is escalating, paranoia fiddling with each sailor’s mind that Hince hisses at any table that implies we might be next and so does he on very patriotic speeches, because we all are the same, we’re all milk teeth to the child that happens to be Germany in our sandbox of life. 

I quickly catch his eye and he looks away, nails digging into his skin as he just sighs, before raising his voice to catch the attention of all sailors and he becomes our radio, stating the plain facts of how many of us had fallen.

“Sailors, as you may have started discussing, Germany has started invading Luxembourg, Belgium...” He starts counting on fingers, to emphasize, I see him pale up, as all of us do and none even bring coffee to their lips. “Netherlands and France. I think all of us understand how high the stakes have risen, that some fucking mess is happening in Europe for no fucking good reason. And we may be next. I want no bullshit of ‘we will be able to do something’, because for now... There are no orders, sailors. No orders from anyone. Neither do we have the faith for what happens, besides what God will give us. We don’t know if we will be capable when countries fall at the flick of a finger. All those who have died, all cities crumbled, will not be forgotten and remember, because if the war expands Hitler won’t hesitate to take our land away as well. I don’t think anyone left would be able to stand as strong, either.”

Jamie pauses, realizing his own fear.

“For now, we watch and pray that while we’re not playing something... stops this monstrosity.” He looks down. “I want no faith in a fight we’re not fighting yet. Patriotism will flourish when our blood is split, save it for when you’re dying, gentlemen.”

And he slammed his mug down, picking up his book and exiting the canteen as slowly the whispers turned into hisses and screams of men expressing their opinion as I still stared at the door, wondering what exactly was stumbling in his mind, that even the plain speeches of patriotism escaped him and if there was something else he were not telling. 

“On the good side, Churchill is now the British Prime Minister-”

“How the fuck is that good news, sir, when countries are dying?”

“I’m just reporting the news, you fucking scumbag.” Brian snapped back, leaving his own mug to head after Jamie, not bothering with the lower ranked crowd. He turned around, coming back, getting a piece of silence for people to listen. He straightened his back, making him just the same small height he was given. “Britain invaded Iceland as well, motives unknown. Morning.”

I feel like the most often thought I’ve had is that I’m a coward for not taking my own life. Too self-obsessed. I feel like all would shatter, all would break and I would be glad if it were so, because then it would’ve matched my state on the inside with the canteen resembling the infidelity of my paranoid thoughts, as I had nothing left but near-to-none arriving letters and all dismantles, because I want it so, because the hate reaches the neck and those who live are too ignorant to die. The world starts taking clashing dystopic colours even if we have breathed on the previous world war from stories, but now it starts flourishing in our veins and every live killed takes a toll on our humanity and understanding. 

Each day with Jamie apart was worse spent, words travelling and I would wonder how come all of a sudden my own murderous actions were less, my own guilt was nothing compared to the hands of men who actually wanted murder not because they had to defend themselves, but because they had believed in the death of others. 

And the whole day it was worse, I had been just as accurate, but my hands were shaking and when Jamie checked on me, just like any other turret he quickly glanced back and I could feel my whole body aching viciously for his touch, as if I had never touched his lips before, so I just held the sights stronger. 

“Captain!” I say, turning around as we both ease from the small contact. I really can’t say I’d bend him over right now, clutching his throat as I fuck him. I glance at my sights fast back. “The sights are scratched and it’s getting hard to aim-”

I’m just a nervous wreck and I want to hear him even call me incompetent for all I care. 

“Why didn’t you ask Chief Petty Officer Kane, Sailor?” He asks, stopping on his way, shivering at the sudden wind. A cold May’s day seems to metaphorical for on an ongoing war we’re refusing to deal with and it seems like we all have a personal history of protecting ourselves from others because it is only our lives, which matter by the end of the day. We fake the sense of brotherhood for reassurance. 

“Sir, because you’re right in front of me, Sir and then the order doesn’t get lost on the way!” And I love checking out your ass. But that stays with me. Jamie sighs, keeping himself in check and closes the turret door again, but manages to catch up on his scenario. 

“Are you questioning Chief Petty Officer Kane, Sailor?” He still raises his voice in the turret and frankly my whole excitement. 

“No, I just really want to fuck you.” I whisper and Jamie gulps, biting his lip, tapping his fingers on his suit pockets. 

“Have fun thinking that all day, Sailor.” And he turns around, as I smirk. And then I hear him yell at another turret, pleased with the outcome, as I just wait for my own excitement to fade lightly so that I can try and aim with the barely scratched sights, but a replacement would be needed anyway soon enough and who knows when the wrong day strikes us. “Kane! Why aren’t you paying attention to maintenance as well? Fucking mop the decks today and the fucking canteen! Maybe then you’ll grow a pair of eyes on your ass, at least!”

All day it gets worse, as I keep thinking of him, as if I could never have enough of him and the more sex we have, the worse it gets, as my desire rises and I even stop caring about the other men on the ship, Jamie contaminating my desire entirely, as I feel like it becomes more of a job, I don’t count the faces and my excuse becomes that they would be safer on land. Everything is even more mechanical with a sailor I had just found out was called Sean and I couldn’t care less, thinking of pinning Jamie down and I hadn’t even realized that my session with Sean was more than over, giving a chaste kiss, already used to the casual encounters. I waiting in my bunk for a while, wondering if Miles’ gaze was something I was imagining but I couldn’t seem to stop thinking about Jamie, so as soon as my watch showed me the right time, I left, even bothering to put the hat on, as if I had some sex duty to fill. 

I knocked on the door quite a few times, before Brian opened up, excusing himself with another officer we had probably picked up on the shore, which was nearly double Brian’s height and they both carried the bed covers with them, as I glanced in, the bed was untouched so I wondered if the table or floor was fitting for a fuck?

I walked in, still frustrated but too anxious to undress in case someone else besides Hince would walk in, so I just sat in his chair, observing every book title I had known and discussed with him. I nearly snap my neck, quickly looking at the opening door. 

“Captain, I’ve got another fucking maintenance problem.” I state as Jamie opens the door and I feel my whole self burning, barely sitting in his chair. Jamie sighs, still eased and happy from seeing me. “I really need you to fuck me, I changed my mind.”

I sit up straight, yanking him by his suit.

“I really need you to fuck me.” None of us can register each other’s emotions or thoughts that Brian and the other officer fucked somewhere. Jamie pulls me to kiss me, taking me and pushing onto the bed, biting my neck harshly, as he strokes my hard erection over my pants, as I moan, not touching him, letting him do anything, trace his tongue down my neck as I expose it, taking off my shirt, pushing my hat away, helping him take off my pants and underwear. I gasp loudly as he sticks two fingers inside me fast, as I grab his head, pressing my cock against his lips. I’m so frustrated that even light pain arouses me from instant contact. “Fucking hell, you really think I’m up for teasing?”

I gasp and Jamie, just undoes his belt and takes himself out.

He grabs me by the chin, I breathe even heavier as I feel his cock hard and hot against my own. 

“Maintenance sailor, where?” He grins, stroking the length of my cock with his index finger.

“In my fucking ass, what the fuck are you even-”

He goes inside me and I open my mouth to scream, feeling already reaching my edge, as Jamie pulls out and I curse, against the palm of his hand, muffling my yell. I bite his hand. 

“I’m dying ok, just fuck me already.” I say as he bites his lip, grinning, watching me.

“Jesus christ, I’ve been the one fucking you last week, is it that hard?” I whine, but I don’t move, playing his game. 

“Plead.” He licks my neck. I whine, my cock aching. I breathe out heavily.

“For fuck’s sake, what do I even say?” I nag, barely breathing as he increases the pressure on my neck and releases. “I’m dying for your cock up my ass, Captain. That good enough, motherfucker?”

“Nah.” I don’t hold and shift him over, positioning his cock near my entrance.

“At least fuck me now.” And I muffle any fucking remark, as he pins me back down, spreading my legs, pinning my hands down and fucking me in and out slowly, as I keep moaning, barely even able to move my tongue against his in ecstasy. He increases his speed, as he himself starts reaching his end, breaking the kiss just to look at me and I see him flushed, the small chain around his neck, his eyes now closed and a long muffled gasp as I myself unravel, grabbing him by the hips and yanking him further inside me as I moan against his cheek, as we both keep thrusting, feeling everything

We collapse, breathing something we had forgotten and our bodies had gained as he finds my lips and holds a kiss, pulling me into a hug, before our tongues meet again, just as eager, reminding of a man’s desire. 

Migraines become metaphors for the unsureness of each day as me and Jamie now smoke in silence, still tense from reality and everything seems like a metaphor of a fucking metaphor. Nothing seems to make sense and now with him divorced it seems even more vulnerable, as people had started musing which woman would Jamie have fallen for, because it was the infidelity of another man that the sailors were interested and would even be a discussion, as people would wonder which woman had he been interested in, but I wondered if the months passed the idea would just fly off. I wondered if it was possible to put someone above besides you, if you could just dismantle the idea that the one who seemed above was on the same fucking step

and I wondered too much, thinking of ranks, falling asleep, silently, as both me and Jamie were getting adjusted to the final fact of being together again with more complications. 

I wish we could exhale the dystopia which now seems to take over the world and sometimes I wonder if I would even be brought back to life by mobilization and I wonder how long will we pretend to ignore the screams we muffle by our own physical distance. We invent our own problems not to go insane with the blood we have never seen and will never see. Jamie reads far more often and I notice that now he’s been avoiding novels which contain war scenes, as he’s been going for different ones. I feel like neither of us will ever be at peace again. 

-

And I'm listening to "It's a Sin" XD obviously, like Callie said in honor to Captain Hince. I guess I just recall PSB when me and Callie were stuck miserably in Glasgow and we literally would hear PSB everywhere and that kind of sticks out to me as when all is shit, things still go well and frankly Glasgow had the best Gay bar I've ever been to so yeah xD but fuck that xD I just felt like listening to PSB while writing this backstory, since this chapter is awfully bittersweet as I wrote it in a really bad mood and I was sexually frustrated with Callie away so I just wrote it and send it to her to read xD and yeah, it really sucks when someone you love is away even for a day. 

It's been an amazingly long ride and there's more ahead and I tend to stick to either make chapters a bit longer or shorter than the previous so this one is just a bit longer than the previous, so here you go:3 and I was awfully anxious as I had this maybe about a week ready xD and I just kept staring at it, nervous about posting it

Because it's Chapter 50 and 145k of To Miles and there's more to come, sorry, I say more to come because like I even get asks regarding characters and couples and I'm like shit, they show up later in To Miles but now I have to remain silent xD and in general the story takes it's own lead and tells me what happens and I love how it's sketchy at times and doesn't tell everything as I don't think some details like Jamie's poems would be shared by Alex, at least those addressed to him

They've grown to be my favourite couple, Miles is one of my most treasured characters due to his backstory and he's just got a lot of growth and he hasn't told everything and I'm looking forward to his line ahead with Alex and etc and I am happy with him, I am pleased with all the characters which had been in To Miles and will be. 

Karen has got to be one of my most favourite female characters I've written and making her Jamie's best friend here to find them friends in life was ironically funny

To Miles was also a big way for me to learn many things and even wish I were in the navy, frankly, somehow xD and yeah, it's just a great part of my creative life and I've mussed on it so much and given it so much from me and even had plot lines destroyed due to anger and passion, had characters tell that they're worth staying for much longer and wider roles (Julian and Captain Hince). Matt became a wider love interest and as I accepted my polyamory it had been given to Alex and I had given it experiences which I've had.

It's a bit painful writing Alex's feelings for Miles as intended was that I would scrap that odd period with my ex before we started dating again and that's the base for it, so sometimes I feel uneasy because I've never been on and off with anyone else, even if Miles and Alex when they're in a more settled time is easier to write, now it's a bit of a nightmare, but like it should be frankly.

I feel ironic now describing war and even if I don't like to speak a lot on the topic myself, I still frankly shout about it with all my novels now being set in a war world, To Miles included and frankly I had a crisis that I was writing about the USN through out writing it, because we all know how fucked it is. But it also allows me to show from the inside how fucked up it is and the fact that Hince and the sailors cannot do anything is a metaphor for what we are going through and this story becomes much more relevant, because we're all closing our eyes on the world, we queers are still banned, we are getting fished out still and targeted and a story from 1940s makes it more present than anything else.

That's why I love To Miles, because I can still speak.

I can speak.

I always speak through my stories.

I may say it in backstories or not, but my stories are my speech, where I don't filter and say what I think, maybe metaphorically sometimes, but it's my speech and it's me

Patriotism became stained, so it was a tough line to write but even then, back then patriotism saved the world, so yeah. Now it's an entirely different concept, we've lost it and the meaning is now different and closer to the nazism we once fought. 

It's very surreal to write war reports and I guess that remains as it is, considering that Jamie's ship is far from war so yeah, it's rather weird and interesting and when it comes to war events, as usual, it's Callie which helps me out and points it out as soon enough I'll be putting things on. And now it's even more ironic because I can't recall if I spoke of it very openly, but To Miles will be historical fiction, it was planned not to follow everything exactly, so me and Callie sat months and months ago, planning out how it would be in my "would be" scenario and predicting everything as historically accurate as possible, so soon enough we'll be throwing out our history books for To Miles, dears. 

I wanted to use a "sir sandwich" it's when you use sir twice in a sentence and there it was XD and I already spoke of the sexual frustration xD 

Callie was laughing at Miles having to mop the decks, but it was more of a me thinking of Alex and Hince flirting more than anything in this case xD

I needed a character which I could quickly use and dispose and unfortunately Sean from Manic Street Preachers fell under it, sorry, Sean! T__T

AND WE HAVE BRIAN'S SWEETHEART HERE XD I still find it so odd that they're Brian and Jamie are my OTP and they don't have a sexual relation here xD

I think I described the peak of sexual desire as explicit as I could xD I dunno how much more sex positive I can get xD But I try even more, we need more sex XD

I can't really hide that well, obviously people would muse on Jamie's lover and what the fuck had gone on, we all do, so I liked that bit and in general because they're in war, I wanted to depict it and my mood was awful, so that was keeping me from posting, but I've decided to give it and it's quite a harsh novel obviously and will remain so and the epilogue will be harsh as well, with major deaths and all.

I hope you enjoyed it and here's to more and more of To Miles

Please tell me if you enjoyed it and thank you, dears

Happy Chapter 50 of our gay sailors

<3

Jamie

To Miles 51