Wednesday, 18 February 2015

No. 1 Party Anthem 4

Waking up is claustrophobic when you know the streets, the sheets and perhaps not the person right besides you as the memory replays sex in loops and loops and specifically when his cock is in you mouth. He moans awfully loudly, thrusting, as I keep my throat relaxed, starting to stroke myself. I wonder if I should let him off easily, but I don’t, letting his slide hard and painful out of my mouth. I ache for him inside me. I stand up and press our cocks together, both of us wincing. He’s not tested. Fuck fuck. I recall the guy who was in a gang-bang with his ass full of cum from twenty different men. Fuck. Fuck this. I kiss him harder, as I get his hand and he strokes me.

“Please fuck me, pizza boy.” I smirk, as Alex doesn’t hold and sticks two fingers insides me harshly, I wince, turned on, moaning against his neck, as he sticks them in and out. 

“Fuck you, feels so good.”

“It’s going to feel better, Miles.” I have to take his hand out, just to drag ourselves to the bedroom. I go on fours and still decide to use a fucking condom until the wanker gets tested, as I throw one at him, lube as well. I hope pullouts isn’t the only thing he’s done in his life. Desire consumes all thinking and fear, allowing only actions to take over the mind in a sexual manner, as all leads to an accurate separate conclusion. I am still partially surprised that he manages to put it on. I feel entirely intoxicated as I feel his lips against the back of my neck and I feel as if anxiety comes and goes, as I know who he is and what we are doing and it feels as if I am getting thrown my fantasy right in the face, all of the implications of it, of how it is to actually be fucking a straight guy who makes sure to state explictly that he’s straight without any pondering on his sexuality and keep it all under wraps.

“Put your hand around my neck.” I beg him as he inserts a finger against inside me, as I let out a heavy breath, allowing him to tease me further, as he licks my neck, slowly positioning himself, but still continues to finger me anyway. He stops as the request. And lack of knowledge is one of them. I sigh, heavily turned on. “Jesus, you’ve never had that?”

I look back at him, but he does as I ask and it’s a bit too harsh, before he loosens, trying to understand the mechanisms, as I get more turned on by feeling at his disposition, my mind ticking in insane ways. He spreads me and slides in, lubed up, holding me harsher by the neck, as I hold my breath. 

“You see, I’ve never fucked a guy before.” He lies, pushing me harsher to him, bending over me entirely and slamming in me as deep as Alex can, as pleasure keeps rocking back and forth through my body, as he starts going in and out of me, holding my breath and biting either my neck or my shoulder, digging himself deeper and out, every fucking time that it becomes a slow, pleasurable, building up tension which I start praying would never end as he slowly gets the speed and by his breath I start feeling that he’s not going to last long and I gasp louder, as his grip increases on me and he looses it.

Alex keeps thrusting inside me in and out, as he starts coming and I get too turned on and over the edge, as I gasp, shouting out as pleasure takes over me and we do the last thrusts on the wave of pleasure, as it strangles us and then lets loose, as I just fall on the bed, wincing at the sudden choice of move as Alex gets out of me, I wince again, realizing how harsh we had done it and my neck a bit sore, as I roll on my back, Alex laying red faced and catching his breath besides me, wiping sweat off his forehead and he pulls the condom off, tying it, opening his eyes, a bit embarassed to look at me.

I feel a bit odd as well, just like you feel when you’re watching a porno and it’s over. Our silence seems to mutilate us and neither we are touching and I feel my back ache lightly. And I wonder for some reason of the condom/cinderella shoe analogy in Fight Club for some unholy reason, but I keep it to myself, as I look down, to see how frankly the fluid is still there, reminding that I’ll need to shower it off. I sigh out loud as Alex pokes the condom and then muses for a bit where to even put it. 

“Just put it on the floor, I guess or bedsheets, don’t bother.” I say and I hope it doesn’t sound as harsh as I had thought and he just drops it on the floor and I get my anxiety back with realization that if you’re just fucking, it’s just fucking and there’s nothing afterwards. 

I don’t even know with which words should I even speak, because I feel as if I have none, because it’s odd to see him just stand up and leave again, if he will, because he gets the easiest stick of them all, he wouldn’t have to get kicked out of home just like Jamie did or I wouldn’t have to drop education because the bills wouldn’t be able to be paid. He just goes on with his life, playing someone else at some point but never really truly feeling at what it is to be a gay man, really, because he isn’t one and because it will be easier and he will never have to struggle, besides juggling a secret which will easily be rubbed off unlike all of us left, wondering where does our life even begin, as we are getting mugshots to remind ourselves that there is everything wrong with us and the light blinds us, because it wants to. Or those who ran away and were never found even by themselves, so it becomes a question of fairness and why does it happen and should I even be pissed off?

It becomes more of a question is it pity of the self or is it actual trying to show some self-care and it becomes that many stories are forgotten, that many incidents are just shoved away because no one seems to be interested in something which cis women see as abomination or cis het men see as something wrong, flawed, the problem is that it starts stripping off not only the sexuality, but gender just because there is no desire to participate in a love we would never care about or some masturbation we could be doing along and as the years went by, the hate sometimes flutters down, but it’s still hard with recalling a bunch of words said or listening to Stefan even shrug it off about his parents, it becomes the taboo topic, which Alex would avoid

It becomes a passerby with immunity.

It becomes the person who sees it all and only gets inner turmoil, perhaps when we don’t.

I want to kick him out at first, as he keeps his silence to himself, but I just feel frustrated and I wonder how do you even speak of it, if you’re the one getting turned on by a fucked up fetish only to wake up next morning and realize how fucked up over you’ve become, that all the shows you watched wanted you dead and Alex had uttered jokes which could’ve possibly trailed onto some slur me or Jamie might’ve heard on the street or could be a replica of words we’ve both heard or Brian had to yell back against at his father. 

So is it even sleeping with the enemy and for what purpose? Is it great reckless sex?

But it always narrows down to the if you have chemistry with the person, but you can always be angry, anger is always justified, as I recall Jamie stating that he’s angry on more than different occasions, specifically when he has mania and it’s awful when he comes to mine’s, just that he’s not alone, whenever he’s off with Brian or Brian once had to visit his parents, a ticket bought and Jamie had no intentions of seeing them and it was agreed that I would take care of him, Brian telling me all the dos and don’ts and I remember thinking that Jamie was lucky to have someone who cared of him so much and Brian had been back the next day, banging on the door and Jamie in his arms.

I try to push thinking far back, as I look at Alex, musing on some future and where would I even stand, I’ve even grown to liking being more alone than ever, feeling uncomfortable and feeling that Jamie and Brian storming in on me whenever and every week or so was enough and now I knew that I wouldn’t kick Jamie anywhere because when he had just started off with Brian, that’s when I had told my parents, there was this trend that everyone had to come out, there was this motion, which both me and Jamie had done.

And it was one of those mistakes where everyone who was out and miserable, everyone who had already been kicked out and settled for ages, decided to speak out and tell you that it’s ok even if their children hadn’t talked to them in years, that their partners were gone, that their friends had vanished but they were happy now, that now was the time and it even felt like a task to say. 

Even if I had seen Jamie, who had come out a few years before, he had been drunk and said that it was my choice, but seemed that mine would slip, we were going somewhere, that all could be done, that all could be done, that I could come out.

No one really talks about people from middle class which get kicked out, people forget that many youths didn’t even know the value of money until they were kicked out, forcing to crash at other’s and I remember shaking at Jamie’s house, who they had assumed was my boyfriend and told me that he was a bad influence a week before, because then everyone would think that I was gay.

I was gay.

And speaking things which escalated into more silence and then shouting how I would never give grandchildren, how everything I did was wrong, how I was showing that civilization was falling, that being gay became some trend and how come I had wanted to become a woman then, how come everything was wrong with me.

And you’re shoved outside. 

And I couldn’t even go back to university the next day and as summer passed, looking for jobs it dawned on me that I wouldn’t be able to do anything, Jamie helping me with everything he could, triggered by my own parents and I recall both of us sitting in his small tub, an apartment similiar to the one he had been renting, a bit before he had met Brian and we had looked at each other, entirely drunk and forgotten, feeling as if there was nothing left at my feet.

“I won’t continue university.” I felt as if all the future I had was taken away from me, even the lie that I could simply continue English Literature was taken away from me, I wouldn’t be able to do anything myself, I wouldn’t be able to starve myself either just for the idea and desire that people would care enough to care about some gay guy’s illusions and sexual fantasies on paper. 

“Your call, Miles.” Jamie had decided to continue, but I figured there was no point and I started sobbing. 

The water didn’t seem relaxing anymore to either of us it seemed and I wondered what the fuck was even going on with us, I couldn’t make out of anything and I just remembered how much I wanted him just to silence me and he looked at me and I realized that if we were to do something, it would’ve been wrong at the time we would’ve and I just dunked myself further underwater, that Jamie tapped my shoulder as a reminder for me to breathe and for the months we lived together I wondered what the fuck keeps people who get along together until he was drunk one day and told me that sometimes he’s awfully daft, that he’s awfully daft and sometimes doesn’t see when people like him and it takes him ages to want someone and it has rarely happened to him, most of his attempts which like mine were with women we hadn’t wanted. Mine mostly, Jamie would just wiggle himself out of them. 

“I guess I’m just demisexual. I really don’t think I’m a gray asexual. I just can’t seem to get connections going far too easily.” He had told me and I had watched him, the mornings were he would look like a total mess, unshaved for a few days and his hair curly, something I hadn’t realized until I had moved in with him, as I sat at his for the first few days I would watch him shave, realize how fast his facial hair grew, how he would blow dry his hair and sometimes apply make up, a bit embarassed as I’d watch and then he would just sit next to me besides me in the bathtub and I wondered if I should just let it slip.

And I did.

He soon enough met Brian, who started showing up at our doorstep all the time and was smitten with Jamie, as he felt a bit uncomfortable with me at first and even asked me once when we headed outside for alcohol, if I loved Jamie and I just shook my head, feeling my cheeks heat up lightly as the shorter man watched me, narrowing his eyes, it’s odd to think of a time when me and Brian didn’t get along too well and now we don’t again, I don’t think we will. We never do when he and Jamie are off. 

“He’s just fucking daft, mate, I’m telling you. Just... give him time.” I said as before he stayed outside smoking, tapping his platforms on the pavement, watching everyone walk by as I felt a bit uncomfortable in store and I wondered what had Jamie’s own thoughts been then, as I never decided to ask him then, I just figured he would ask me when the time would come. As we walked back to the apartment, I sighed, saying that Jamie was demi and all and could take a while.

Brian still confessed the two weeks after that and I would sneak out of the apartment, Jamie just shrugging as Brian would ask Jamie to play guitar for him and what they would do or talk about would be left in their minds only as I would just roam around town, feeling a bit freer, maybe because Jamie had started to find someone who he had liked.

I wondered if I had loved Jamie just because he had taken me in and we were the only ones who didn’t venture away from each other or was it because I really did love him and what is the wrong love anyway.

And Brian had stayed one night, when I was falling asleep and I had dreamt of Jamie properly, waiting for Brian to leave for his own lessons, as Jamie had gotten back from walking Brian off to his classes and he had been wearing a lazy hoodie, his hair a mess, a stubble and it was a different way of seeing him and he had been grinning, apologizing and I just felt something either tear or build up inside me. 

And we’re all daft, because we’re scared of ruining nothing.

Because we’re scared of losing the people we’ve held on long enough. 

Because we’re so used to never touching them. 

We kept looking at each other, as if we had both known, as if we would have shared a kiss, but we never did. 

“I just want you to know... that you mean a lot to me.” He had said out, quietly and softly. Jamie looked down, zipping up his hoodie. He looked up, trying to find more words, but sometimes you don’t have to confess to be obvious. 

“Same.”

“So you and Jamie are platonic or what?” Brian had asked me once, when he was staying over and I had been moping and it had started to get a bit weird, that I hadn’t had a boyfriend and Brian and him had just gotten back together. 

“I don’t know, honestly.” I answered honestly and fast before I could be taken away with his question. 

“I really don’t want to venture on you two admirers, but whatever you guys... Fuck this, maybe friendship does exist. But you do want to fuck his brains out.” Brian said pointing his coffee mug at me. 

“Aren’t a bit uncomfortable with it, Brian?” I asked back, fast as he just shrugged, making coffee as Jamie had gotten some ridiculous small job of carrying someone’s items from one house to the other and all week we had joked calling it the break up move, because both parties were far too tense and it seemed a bit too much like a TV show move, without flying knickers, though. 

“You guys aren’t doing anything, I’m not aware of, so...” He shrugged. “And I know Jamie’s side, which you don’t.”

I felt a bit flushed, bit toned down, letting the feelings slide with months now. He smiled at me. 

“It’s odd, that we’re friends with the current situation.” I smirked. 

“Well, you are my boyfriend’s best friend, well, I’m addressing how you guys go ‘officially’.” He sat beside me. “Because frankly we all want to fuck our friends, well, unless we’re ace or demi. Jamie’s an ass. I had to fucking spell out that I wanted him up my ass like three times.”

“He told me.” I rolled my eyes and Brian laughed with me. 

I would be lying if I missed Brian already and when they were both on. I didn’t ask for Jamie’s side of the story, though, as I presumed that Brian kept our stories separate that’s what never made sense, why they would go off and Brian wouldn’t talk to me much. Sometimes when they would be off, he would knock on my door and enter my apartment, years on and I remember he would always be in something far brighter as if to hide his depressed side and he would reapply his make-up as he would speak. I would never understand why he would even hurt Jamie. And it seemed that he didn’t have an answer.

“You know... when you love so much... you want them gone, because you think that’s what is going to happen anyway. That’s always the reason. No matter what.” He had confessed and hiccuped that I should never tell Jamie that and I mused on it for a few days, wondering if we were all just nervous of hurting ourselves in the end instead of the significant other, because we’re scared of our own break up rather than the other’s pain. Or maybe none of our loves were justified. But the more I watched Brian the more it seemed to lack logic yet have sense. Sense that he was breaking Jamie down and that he was fucked in the head and me and Jamie had forgotten what we had been, even if we would take baths, because feelings flee and lovers venture back.

And people leave our lives and it becomes like unfinished novels, as I look back at Alex.

The last time they had broken up on Valentine’s and it was ridiculously snowing and Jamie broke down crying on the street, already on the way home, when we had discussed it in a loud gay bar with bad cocktails and he couldn’t stop crying. And I had hugged him.

Feelings don’t flee.

I sit up to raid for cigarettes as I give Alex the opened box, as if I have cigarettes stashed everywhere. Alex takes one a bit confused.


“I love you.” I had told Jamie and it seemed to convey everything I’ve felt.

-

I'm actually sorry that this chapter is 400 words shorter than the usual but it's like 3.4 k and I wrote frankly all of it besides maybe the first few paragraphs in two sittings: yesterday and today. I'm having a manic episode so I'm a bit off and I binged the remaining 2.3 k in one sitting xD that's a lot frankly xD I just wanted to discuss many things and because it's mania, my mind focuses on one thing and I can't stop until well... I stop and writing is a good way to get rid of when it's at it's peak. It's quite bad mentally but I guess I am a bit better. 

I really wanted this out and I've been in love with this story.

It's a bit weird that I leave to pick up stories at a sex scene coz I kind of have to be in the right mindset so in those cases it's pretty much, dive in, get into the scene and start writing it until you're done xD and I always get very technical and it's very visual for me so sex scenes are always the ones I type slower and think what they would be doing. I also kept thinking that I think my sex scenes are maybe a bit too vanilla at time until I looked back and realized that not really, but I've been inserting a bunch of different stuff and I have the new BDSM milex story called So you can sink. So you can check that one. Also I've been just like anyone who is trans masculine ticked off at tumblr. So I've kind of been more keen to talk about gay men, because I'm tired that people think that it's easy. Ok, I'm jumping ahead.

I'm rather consious and paranoid regarding condoms and STIs and whatnot, so I kind of keep that because well, you should be very aware and whatnot. 

I dunno, I've been tired of bad sex scenes that's why I always try to make mine long and unique I guess, I dunno, maybe I'm too sexual. xD

I've had a lot of breath play in stories now that I look back, so nothing new and I think gay men rank #1 on breath play, so figures. Big death rates though, play safe. I think what always amused me I wasn't the last to lose my virginity and I always would get sad because when I was growing up, I was socialized well not as my gender obviously and I would get sad how many women would be either on one end of not orgasming, not enjoying or being far too revolted by sex, I barely knew anyone who actually liked it and it was seen as very deviant, so many things I've discovered obviously with Callie and whatnot, so I guess the stigma of straight cis sex being horrendous kind of comes from growing up and it being plain and boring. I mean, we all have things we might prefer over others, but I just found it sad and limiting to an enormous extent. So I kind of talk about raising here and stereotypes in this chapter, so I gave Miles my judgement I guess. 

What I like about this story is the whole because straight men are frankly the virginity when it comes to gay sex these days apparently, which is frankly annoying. Maybe I'm just too demisexual, so yeah, it's hot in a porn context, we all watch porn and then are like what. But there it's frankly and thankfully a roleplay, but it kind of slips onto real life and the whole chapter was based on well, then was it to be with a straight guy who never got kicked out of his house then? And that's why Miles' backstory unfolds entirely. 

Fight Club is such a gay movie. I can't. Anyway, moving on.

Me and Callie kind of I always speak of it, but not entirely, but no one really speaks that frankly all classes get kicked out, all get aliented and I get ticked off that people think that just in working class, you get kicked out. People don't realize that people just frankly go off just for their own sanity, to avoid abuse and torment from relatives and that they are people from different backgrounds. People really don't realize that you have to work instead of education and think of how do you squeeze hours and with this job market when you have no one behind your back it's tough. And what ticks me off is that people really avoid cases where people from higher classes just collapse, because well in my case it had to do a lot with xenophobia, but it's fucked up, I was told that I would just go on and on into uni and Miles discussing English Literature and being a writer, figuring it out something on the way, is I guess me openly discussing and touching my own personal story in a way. I had to give up because frankly my diploma got rigged and then I had to start all over again with Callie who had just moved in. No one talks of that, that you escape your families frankly not to get killed, not to get abused again and that it's a big shock, no one talks of that, no one talks and everyone just goes 'oh, gay men are priviliedged or NB as well'. No one realizes that you have to pay for your roof, for your food and there's two of you and you're fighting a diploma.

So that's why I give my characters deep background stories, because that's what happens.

You escape or you don't get accepted. 

Before I address Jamie's mental health I'll end on the relatives.

Theres this whole trend on the western world, US and UK specifically of having to come out and frankly you've got people and ads down your throat yelling come out come out it's safe, all my family rejected me, but it's good. And that fucks you up. Because it doesn't get better, you know if it's safe to come out, only you do and not some shitty ad. So I wanted to talk of that, because I don't want people to come out if it's not safe. No one should be obliged or shamed for staying in the closet for their relatives if it's for their sake, but that trend happened and destroyed lives, making youth homeless and suicidal. So that's why I took Jamie and Miles' stories in different periods, keeping my headcanon regarding Jamie in this story as well and making Miles' uni dreams collapse in a different way from my own. Thing is, you stop getting money obviously if your parents refuse you in that case, so then what? You lose your uni. Is that priviledged? Are you going to tell to my face that two homeless youths are not the same because one came from a priviliedged background? No one talks of the conservative parents which aren't working class. 

I have mania now, so I gave that to Jamie and I pretty much have Callie like Brian in this story, so I took that really.

There's this new Alison Mosshart interview, well, latest and she goes on and you see how she lives alone and I kind of found that interesting, the weirdest things inspire me, so I took that for Miles, since I've been with Callie for years now xD and we're very tight-knit kind of like Brian and Jamie in this story when they're on. So it was seeing something else, really and it was interesting, just like people are like imagine couples, I was like shit, is that how living alone is? And it felt odd, so yeah, I figured that's what I wanted for Miles in this story, but obviously with Brian and Jamie pouncing in xD

I way before I even talked of myself, I had a close friend and she was a lesbian and I remember I was revolted how people avoided her and she was a big Placebo fan, I remember we would talk for ages, but I wasn't really attracted to her (now I know why geez xD) and I remember I was told to stay away otherwise people would think I was gay too and would alienate from me as well, that revolted me and frankly, looking back, she's maybe the one person I would've kept in touch with, but I lost her number and whatnot, she changed schools and I'm not one to keep old friends and explain who I really am and all. Where I come from it's better to cut ties for your own sake.

And White Stripes' There's No Home For You Here plays as I thought of where I lived, oh well xD I knew that anyway xD

Anyway.

I come from frankly where there's an obsession with grandchildren and birthgiving, so speech is cissexist but it's the main arguement, children, not being able to reproduce. C'mon look at Volkova's speech, gay men are an abominations because they're not fertilizing women, but lesbians are okay. 

Civilization is falling because of homosexuality has got to be my favourite insult of all time.

One man, one woman, always. Quotes, quotes, quotes. 

I know I speak very freely regarding not having friends when I do have some, but I still find it hard, I get attached to people and then they end up being transphobic, because frankly those who you become really close with, in my case, please, unless you're ace frankly either you want to fuck or they want to fuck you and I kind of wanted to talk about that, because there's those cases where you're so close for the person with so long that you don't even know what to do anymore, because you're scared of losing and it becomes disasterous. And in my case I'm demisexual so my feelings show up in ages frankly xD sometimes up to years and I think this is the first story where I have an openly demisexual character, even if frankly I make many of my characters demisexual by default, I never really addressed it like now, since it becomes a bit of the confusion between Miles and Jamie here. 

Because the question is, if you get along why don't you date? That's something which caused an enoumorus dispute between me and my ex, who put friends above lovers, while I'm the radically opposite, keep your friends further, besides a few but then would it be platonic then? I don't know, then it becomes murky ground with those and I guess I wanted to discuss that and here I am xD 

I had this period, bathtubs aren't really a big thing in Sweden or at least in the apartments I've stayed and I remember when everything collapsed we were in hotels and I would always take baths and they would stop helping. Bathtubs were always the symbol when I can't take it anymore and I would lay there. So I used that.

I had that moment where I was like do I want to get them physical, but I decided that I need to address something else, this kind of relationship and I guess muse on it, so I used that, because I've got Alex and Matt in To Miles which did get physical, but I never had full on platonic and I'm sorry I don't know how I will deal with it later, but I tend to either break or make it sexual, being honest here, because I really want gay sex representation, I'm really sorry about that, so I'll see. But I wanted to explore that topic and shed light that well, you can love without physical, platonic really for a good extend without saying or explaining, that doesn't devalue your feelings, really. But in this case they're both very scared I guess and it's interesting because what they feel for Alex and Brian is different, but I really don't want any friendship bullshit, they're fucked up and they're trying to figure out their feelings and frankly they confessed, so no fucking just friends, really.

I think I am a bit weird, we're all weird with our idols, but yeah, unshaved Jamie is precious and etc. I think I talked enough, I'll fanboy now xD

I think the whole talk was based off because I had this guy who was going after me and he actually asked Callie if we were a thing, when we weren't so yeah xD

I dunno, I really love Brian in this story and I actually wanted to show how he and Miles are friends in a way, because they both have Jamie as an important figure in their life. I know, this chapter really focuses on the backstory to shed light on the actual contrast and I guess flip side to the fantasy. I'm a fucker, I know xD I'll go on Alex as well and well, let's be realistic it is s'posed to be complicated and it's not easy. Fuck you if you think otherwise.

I always dream of people I like, I'm honest in my dreams. So I used that.

The hoodie is a mock from me because there's a few occasions where Jamie stated that he doesn't wear hoodies, but he had and I even felt like doing a photoset of that, but I'm not that much of a fucker xD

I'm demi, so it took me a while to realize how deep my feelings for Callie were and it was weird, because we had confessed to everyone that we had no intentions of dating and bffs for ever and ever and we were sulking on the side, so I had taken that. And of course you have confessions like that.

This chapter nearly made me cry and I read it out to Callie later and she went under the covers and was nearly crying. I dunno, I just love it and it's kind of divided in three parts: 1. sex 2. coming out 3. platonic love really. So yeah, since it's so big and I wanted to keep it big so here it is 8) and I'm still nearly crying.

I love Brian's honesty and how fucked up he is, I dunno, he looks like the guy who fucks up and then confesses up front, but fucks up all the time, so that's my headcanon and I love Brian here. I really really really love Brian here.

I dunno, I'm rather explicit on the story and I like how it built up and explains, so obviously I'm missing bits which are self-explained like Brian and Miles' talk. I always ship everyone with Jamie. I'm sorry, but in this case it was planned out and yeah, sorry and it was also a contrast and backstory for Alex and Miles. I can guarantee no To Miles, don't forget Brian/Jamie is my OTP. I get paranoid that people don't like Jamie in my stories, honestly xD

Abuse fucks you up, you don't think that people can love you, so I had a hard time in life accepting love in the beginning and I kind of wanted to touch that and give it to Brian here, really.

I liked the "feelings flee and lovers come back line" a lot and I kept it because it's pretty and good, even if Miles disagrees with it a few lines later. (It's so fucking late and I want this up with a good backstory xD). I find it weird that we lose people and lovers, well, the lovers fucked up, but it's really weird and it happens, so it was addressed.

I like how Alex pops in fast, confused. And yeah, I'm not telling anything and we all know that my characters have a mind of their own xD

And yeah, I cry regarding the last line because it's obvious at times and conveys everything you'll ever feel.

Thank you and I hope you've enjoyed it as much as I did and please please tell me if you did, I'm barely sleeping tonight coz I wanted this up xD 

<3

Monday, 16 February 2015

So you can sink.

“Genet says in Our Lady
of the Flowers: ‘If I were
to have a play put on in
which women had roles,
I would demand that
these roles be performed
 by adolescent boys.’
- Jean Paul Sartre

We don’t cherish the things we have, because we are taught that our life is ordinary but no different than the rest, but is thought? I muse as I walk out, smoking a cigarette, watching the play again after all the years, feeling the cold air remind of winter like an old cheating lover of their existence on the streets. Collar pulled up, sometimes you don’t just wonder what is wrong but you wonder how do all slip under every single note of humanity as confusion seems to settle the direct obvious, yet as we build society as daft, it is granted to us, some bizarre anonymity and questions of girlfriends are simply shoved aside in each talk, as each glass is raised and mussed out loud. 

Men are considered to be straight.

Men are considered to be women, because we have given far too much allowance in ourselves to give clear distinctions and I am mistaken as an actor from a play, as I stop to fix the lipstick as long as the notion of the fact that I might be somewhat sexually ambigious, all is fine and make up just like theatre is seen as a mere performance. We are given the false explanations, when those who are women have it taken away from them entirely, giving us the space we had never needed. 

Make up became an exploration of the self, as subtleness was taken away in it’s entity, allowing to browse aisles of bright blue make up fluttered with the gazes of confused women with their bare minerals pallettes as much is made to thought, as you look out to a pitch black forest at night, wondering what would there be for the dawn to break entirely and remind the self of the lack of one’s existence.

“They don’t state that the man who put the play was gay.” And another man approaches me and strikes me with his tired eyes and own mascara, I believe just retouched and I blow smoke, turning away so that it doesn’t reach his face. I wait for him to continue with his accent which just confirms where he’s from and how come he had decided to approach. “So it becomes social help, because it’s not even the government which holds the ideology, but it becomes among the people, because they the mass, become the revolted lot, which doesn’t allow to do anything, to step forward, because by the end of the day even the government consists of people and their decisions. They are the ones who pretend gay men don’t exist.”

“And it is my make-up which speak for my sexuality, then?” I ask him, looking at the soft pink lipstick traces on the cigarette end, as I offer no cigarettes as the man himself seems to be a smoker. We both become so desperate at times that we allow ourselves to frankly give everything for a shot, because intuition becomes fairly crucial at many times, for in a row of people which would strangle us, there is nothing left. I blow out the smoke again and now it reaches him with the wind. “And. May I ask what are you doing here then of all places?”

I feel like my English is far less tattered and I am never taken for a local anymore. 

“Business, just like all of us, we hold onto jobs, we watch the fall, we muse on nationality and consider our place.” He shrugs. The man clicks his tongue. “Expression is rather bold so I assume you have dismantled many things in your head and if a man looks deep into himself, he’ll find himself reading Mishima regardless of the fucked up views.”

He ponders on his next words.

“I got fucked over by his line that woman stands in the way of creation and when you think of one’s gender, you start musing is it actually so? Is it from one radical end to another or does pure hate make us so bitter, then?” Now he takes out a cigarette box, a bit crumbled from the small coat pocket, probably under him in the play with the theatre staff suggesting to bring the coats along. “Because the more you look and speculate on your own gender, your own expression, the more you see that you identify with the daftest of men and alienate from the smartest of women, so what if the woman standing on the path to creation is just one’s acceptance of homosexuality? Because we are told that women take parts of our lives and just like any child, we start wishing the thing we dislike were gone. It’s childish, but you hate what you are tortured with.”

“Very bold and problematic to say.” I smirk, now watching him smoke, as if take turns. “Where does the fuel come from?”

“One’s denial of self. You’ll never hate yourself, you’ll hate the others who had tried to build you. You will never hate yourself for a bad relationship, you will hate the person who dated even if it was your mistake.” He smiles at me and I just close my coat buttons to the very top. “May I invite you to dinner?”


I give out a chuckle and nod.

-

I had the thought of doing some BDSM story for quite a while to be honest, because I've been ticked off that people think that 50 shades of grey is wrong because it's BDSM, there are actually such people and BDSM hasn't seen the best of lights these day because of that abusive crap recently. And in general I don't write Milex far too often and I'll be honest, I don't read it too much and being honest, I've seen some really bad sex scenes and BDSM which just didn't seem attractive to me at all and well, I understand we all have our limits, but I guess being a non-vanilla person I decided to frankly well, I feel like maybe my own sex scenes are more vanilla than I am in real life. But as Callie put it, we come under the casual BDSM people xD sorry if that's too TMI, but we are kind of in the community, pretty mcuh anyone who enjoys it is. I've got some slips here and there, but never really had a full fleshed out story for it and I kind of wanted to counter and give a bit more sex scenes for the Milex fandom, because I'm really tired of everyone putting gay men into heterosexual stereotypes so this story was frankly aimed to be the gayest thing I've written with the small extract in the beginning as I'll get to it in a bit. So I wanted frankly sit down and pretty much take and make it as gay as possible.

What inspired me and frankly I was thinking through life, was seeing The Maids with an all male cast years ago set by Viktiuk which frankly mesmerized me and kind of challenges that men are still men and the point was to put an all male cast, pretty much play that feminity is constructed and that they're still men which is really interesting and is something you kind of dig around a lot when you go into gay literature, because frankly I get annoyed at how gay men are portrayed, that's why I write about gay men so much, asides from being one, it's kind of what I always focused on and wondered until I came out to myself as well. Basically the play just shook me to the core and their make-up was outstanding and that's where make-up puts in place.

As I was discovering make up, frankly since I wasn't aware of my gender for a long while, I remember how I'd always get told to make make-up more subtle and feminine and I always liked it bright and kind of it was used a bit offensive against me that my make-up is theatrical and I guess I reclaimed that for myself, because I discovered it as I moved out and I would do it in ways I wasn't told and I still do it very bright and make a point of making it rather threatrical, in general when it comes to my appearence that's what I prefer and that's what build my masculinity if you must. And I kept musing that I don't give a lot of make-up to my characters either, so this story frankly frames all the parts of myself being a man I had missed. And well, I get annoyed at things I see or read, so kind of taking things from my daily life like discussing sex in depth or make-up is what I wanted for this story. Also, I'll have to think of the setting or maybe I'll just keep it in my head, not specifying because I need them to have some openness which obviously they may not have in Eastern Europe, so I'll see. 

I'll be honest, I'm having trouble finishing Our Lady of the Flowers as I'm having trouble going through Darling's and Divine's straight relationship which I really can't give a fuck about. So, that's for me to sit and force myself, but I've been having trouble to concentrate and read because I've had many mood swings, yet I've been reading fanfiction and whatnot, but I sat and read some more Exquisite Coprse which has it's fair share of cissexism but kind of addresses things as obsession with breeding, which is something I grew up with, so rings a bell for me. 

I was very anxious of starting it and I was looking for the right quote for quite a while (note: I don't have a title for the story so far xD). 

There's more in Sartre's introduction which gave me a brief existential crisis, like Mishima once had with "women stand in the way of creativity/creation" which is discussed in the story. I find my own gender and sexuality interesting, because with each day I feel much more away from women both in gender and sexuality and I find more reasoning and I feel closer to male, as if I wasn't male enough already, but gender is an interesting thing xD so the whole feminity being construct made me question it, because we mostly think of masculinity being construct and for me, it's mostly a concept which is kept up by women (I kind of come from the side where we had gender equality then we had a boom where mother's obsessed with their sons and I was thinking of it deeper, that women are more gender police when it come sto language and we've got research and again, speaking personally, I guess, I'm rather strict and I've experienced transphobia only by women and massive hate speeches specifically just from women). So it kind of gave me a lot of thought and since Callie is androgynous it gives us a lot to think, since we've both identified with female at some point, like because we both dropped it and I dunno, it never matched me by the end of the day besides when I was with specific partners. 

But I'm not here to thrash, because I've gotten death threats by women for being a trans man, but that's not about that, so I might be bitter due to that and PTSD, so my apologies, honestly. 

So it kind of made me question and I hate being percieved as female when in make-up aisles all I see is females going over nude shades and me asking Callie if she sees any non-black mascara. So even when it comes to stereotypes, I start even thinking even which of my actions would even be percieved. Anyway, it becomes interesting. Sorry, I get carried away.

I kind of set it in Eastern Europe, so the glass raised are toasts and to all I've heard of me being a wife and getting a het husband and whatnot, so that was a lil' wave to that. 

I hate that trans women are erased, I hate that trans identities are erased, but we also have the problem that a boy in a dress would be percieved as a woman and if they are just a boy in a dress, would still be not percieved as such, so that was addressed and that's why make-up is explicitly described. 

Viktiuk isn't listed as gay on his wiki page, that annoyed and revolted me because he's been out since ever from what I heard. 

I kind of wanted to address since we've got a lot of controversy, that our problem is not only the fucked up laws, but the people, the fucking people.

I like giving all my stories a sense of dystopia and with nazism on the rise, I had to point out, of course, how nazi humankind has become. 

Also I guess I wanted to point out how we do so many things for our jobs these days and how bad the market is unfortunately and yeah. Kind of hitting home with a few sentences really.

Mishima is such a fucked up read, but nevertheless I'll never shut up about his talent. And it kind of opened my eyes on gay men, since society made the wrong stereotypes fuck knows why. 

I've been using bitter and hate because that's how I feel, so I'm sorry if that phrase is in many many stories xD

I kind of wanted to be split open for this story and I was. So yeah. Obviously explicit sex scenes to follow and I hope you like it.

Now, title... Lemme think. Ok, I watched a small fragment of the play again, just to frankly steal the pharse "so you can sink" which is now, the title. Also I kind of wanted to keep the threatrical feel and for some reason I was listening to Jonny Greenwood's Doghouse as I was writing it and yeah. 

Please tell me if you enjoyed it and thank you

<3

Jamie

Saturday, 14 February 2015

500 5

Drinking becomes sober. Sober with apple attraction. 

I know who’s awake and in the nearest destination we’re all awake and none of us have the powder or blood of the world’s turmoil, we’re the sleeping protesters which have decided that our arms do nothing, so it becomes foolish yet understanding that to spare our own lives, it’s better to watch from a side, because our arms wouldn’t change anything yet fear of guns still bullies into a trance, because by going to the front we wouldn’t save any lives, just take others and whose would it be someone else’s or ours and for once we value our own. 

I like watching the windows go one by one at night and I wonder if the war swallows if so will the forest or would our living souls be the first to go?

It surprises me that it doesn’t snow in the next few weeks and my own depression can wipe out idle memories. As I fiddle around the house, I start finding Christmas gifts scattered and a lot of them have either cracks or come as good as new, but it seems as if the whole house had travelled through war, whoever had been here holds the same past as everyone else or the thoughts of powder. Barely any hadn’t been touched or observed to feel the turmoil. I sit in the kitchen, fiddling with the box as Jack had decided to do fishing. I had refused, without realizing that he had left, going through all the house, thankful for minimal heating but the weather was barely catching up on it’s calendar date anyway. I wondered if he would fish with his bare hands. 

The toys seemed to depress me with deep forgotten nostalgia of a time when war wasn’t thought of and all laws were minor as it seems now. I lift up one to just put it back, as I hear some small sound as I peak out of the kitchen to see a tall man with dark hair to his shoulders.

He smiles at me.

I wonder if he wants the house back. 

“No, I’m just visiting.” He says and I realize he makes as much sense as when I was drunk, he makes his way to my gifts, the room feeling lighter as he takes one asking what was wrong with these and I just mutter nothing. I observe him, as age seems to slip conclusion from him and he is dressed rather grim fingers in dirt and I wonder what sort of metaphor would he ever cary and how would he even represent all of us, as if we were all a play and this house was a sole model of the world. He doesn’t feel intimidated by my look. He puts all the toys down and before I can even say anything, he turns around. I follow the dark haired man up to the stairs and he just waves, deep brown eyes fixated on mine for a moment before he heads downstairs. 

I can’t call him useless, but not much is said and I wonder what had the gifts even had. I sit down, inspecting the fixed cracks and noses as Jack does come back with a fucking basket full of fish I make a mental note to discard as I get reminded to make way to another city, to someone who wants to reconnect with a relative which seems to be causing ruckus and even appearing on the CCTV inside the house. Jack seems surprised and displeased about my silence as I dress up, as if our whole relationship had been a string and as I slept when I realized that I had started to get very attracted to a selkie which had no interest in me, it seemed like a reason for me to bury it, as I would try to speak less, setting up the laptop I had brought with me, just to notify that I was up and running again, wondering how many had already died within hiding to be heard. 

"So if we have to cut down trees to know their age, would it be the same with people?" Jack muses, thinking, shuffling, unused to the idea of me leaving apparently. "Is that what you do, look at the dissected tree."
I don’t think.

"You can come and see if you like, just don’t talk to anything if you see or feel." I say, buttoning my coat and excitement showers in Jack’s face before he pulls himself together an thanks me, heading back to grab his newly bought coat on our latest trips to the biggest city nearby. I don’t think clearly, even I tell myself that it’s a dead case as I twist and turn on one of the beds, I watch him, his silhouette wondering if he would try the attic for his skin, if he would emerge with his eyes a beady black and the skin thicker, smoother and much more gray taking a form I would’ve never linked him to without knowing, yet it had been getting worse as Jack would try to look away from my gaze and I kept it as such. 

Our mind can alter memories to the state it wants, really. You want that forgotten, it will be those who you have met a split second who would be engraved forever, I thought as I looked at Jack, who seemed to be more than excited at the possibility of traveling in a train.

It was a seal on the train, after all.

The trains were rather empty as usual, everyone making a point of not sitting together, as the selkie kept watching the countryside go by, how all the houses built held lives and were all the same, the same kept secrets and idle smooth life, we all craved, they gave out impressions of dollhouses which we would play with to forget and I guess so did our house. You’d smile, wondering about it. 

I crossed my arms to see a young couple walk in, Jack only giving them a sole glance.

I flinched as I started hearing them speak English, knowing that the guy’s gaze falling upon mine was just a question as he started speaking to his companion, waiting for me to speak, as Jack asked me how much longer and I didn’t need to play the accent where from guessing game, as he had done with his companion.

The next couple was someone dressed up as me and it seemed more natural and less disturbing to see someone who reminded you of what was happening outside the core even if there were thousands of us. When you’re bitter about the place you left, you’re bitter about all coming from there. Jack watched me and as he kept watching me, before I looked up, it dawned on me perhaps it was the longest he’d ever look at me with his dark eyes and I couldn’t even move, a bit aroused from his attention. I broke the stare to look at the window to see the fading day, as Jack gave himself time to catch up on all the looking I’ve done at him. 

“What kind of books do you read?” Jack snaps me out of my trance as I just look back at him, his usual cold gaze as if I would have been looking at a lake at night, sucking me in and reminding me of something eternal. 

“Excuse me?” I voice my confusion.

“Well, we are heading out to a city. I figured I might just get you a gift.” He shrugged and scratched his brow. “It is Christmas and I like the whole idea of reading books on Christmas’ Eve as a gift. It’s some Icelandic tradition I heard when I was there, years ago. Seems nice to follow it, again. If you want.”

He adds with a bitter tone and I just smile lightly, hoping that he wouldn’t notice and I just nod.

“So what do you read?” He asks again, making sure that I answer his question. I shrug and the fear of accepting the fact that a state of harmonical friendship is something I would self-destruct against makes matters worse. It gets worse, because the catalyst to each failure is yourself, is the fear that all you’ve thought will collapse and my sudden elevated state is not helping, making feel sufficient energy to break a window and jump off the train, just so that I would never see rejection when love is written under my fingernails and I’m not daft to peel them off. Fear keeps restricting my love which is unwanted, as days go by trains, it gets worse and worse, the room becomes more cluttered with desire and forcing him to do anything that I had considered walking deliberately with him as we would visit Alex and Miles which had a mistletoe under their door frame.

I am my own graveyard. 

“I guess psychological fiction.” I shrug and Jack seems to have his own book choice in mind. I wonder how he looks like as a seal if there is something as odd as a white elephant in an elephant play just because the roles became short. I played God and a white elephant in that play, because God had to wear white, the elephant wore white as well, because there was no time to change.

Was I that as well? With a riffle to all sides?

The wrong melodies come with the wrong memories. I quickly turn off my phone, before texting back that I will be there at the right time to talk with the spirit. I wrap my scarf harder as if the winter is harder to embrace. He holds the silence and I feel more agitated by the fact that I seem to be sole now in my own pain. My whole body seems to break out from a numb cocoon and I just hug myself harder and I feel like picking a fight for the sole reason that I am not to be given something mutual. We’re all brutal and our sole existence narrows down to fucking and fighting.

Misery reminds of the world’s dystopian state and the telly above our heads which shows what happens on both sides, the numbers tolling like strings in a carpet, too many and drawing blood patterns. We have nothing to do, because we don’t matter. No one wants those who survive, because the dead become valuable in the world of Chichikov’s hands. Only Chichikov becomes everyone who wants to be one, choosing the right souls to deal with and solely to please himself. 

Illusion masters itself in all forms, gender and sexuality and maybe the devil is a sole illusion and I wondered if what I had seen was some sort of schizophrenia I wasn’t following and Jack was just an angry dream of mine.

"Hey, Jack, which super powers do you have besides turning back into a seal and fucking off?" Jack just glares at me and I wonder if we both grump at each other revolting in a duplicate culprit situation.

Questions mount the disconnection from reality, the desire to fling things across and desire to consume one’s flesh. There is nothing left. I keep staring at Jack, that I see the selkie feel uncomfortable. We’re all tormented, because the fights are not for us, but rather against us, we’re all here reduced to paper or lack of it, we are not the gleaming eyes, we can’t count the wars and we can’t count the brothers we’ve lost because we are not told how many brothers were killed and at the stake of proving one’s supremacy because I forbid myself,

our existence is not about fucking and fighting, it’s about making sure you’re better than the rest

that even seeps into sex, sadly

Whenever I would feel heartbroken I would imagine Brian sitting opposite me in a train, perhaps he would be wearing a long dress and maybe that’s why he appears wearing such and I try not to muse much on why it happens so that I see him in a dress, looking like Brian as well. 

Brian would get sad and would be far more vocal than I was, when I would prefer to be idle and live, he was the one who would get outraged and ended up getting outraged by himself, losing all touch and both of us threading ourselves out, not counting the droplets of blood and all bodies drenched in substance and lube, looking at each other, realising that no matter how far you’ve come, you may break if it’s not meant to be, even with gritted teeth.

When I looked at Jack, he seemed brighter. 

But Brian would still dominate my thoughts even if Jack’s playing hand was far more tempting and he seemed to lure me in, pulling me harsher and harsher by the leash, his lips ghastly. 

“We seem to be writing our own love stories and our whole life becomes the movies we’ve never seen as children.” He had said once, right after sex, when his insecurities were gone and we would lay side by side, flaccid, all anxiety shredded with simple motions, his make-up smudged, as I would watch the scarps of mascara under his eyelids. Now I could see him sit and say the same thing.

When he’s gone, I realize that I might’ve never said that I loved him enough.

I would grab him into a hug, Brian surprised and nearly tumbling half-way and tell him how I feel and with every time, it seemed to be like a glass of liquor which we had given.

I missed him dearly, but it is not us which commit the mistakes of the beloved. 

And I still miss those in front as I watch Jack, myself making the wrong moves possibly to the wrong man. Despair reaches the lungs, making my breath shorter and more static. Brian was an old liquor which would give me the heaviest and worst hangovers in the morning and fear of denial, since he would choose me over others and I would watch until it eventually became my turn. Being in Sweden made it ironic and I had been to Gothenburg twice already, listening to people and who they had wanted me to listen to.

“Is a selkie the not sexy version of a merman?” I ask Jack just to tick him back.

Honesty only comes at one’s before sleep, that’s when the thoughts are more sincere and then you can’t hide away, it becomes far more sober than dreams, because you’re talking to yourself and you don’t have the excuse of forgetting. It starts getting heavier every day and the fact that I had started going unmedicated made me wonder far too many things and allowing time to slip from around my neck, making me more than aware of what I was feeling, allowing me to fully see Jack as he would shift in his sleep and I would feel him. 

I become bitter from not knowing what to do, that we have started coexisting and I wondered how would it start feeling a few weeks ago and it becomes natural that he walks around and that he stopped leaving the house, tuning my guitar whenever it would get out of tune and that he was the one who offered decorating the tree and my thoughts started swallowing me entirely, I didn’t feel chained but he was far too attentive that I wondered when he would notice and what meal of the day it would’ve been. 

It starts feeling as if I don’t age with time at all and I become more attentive and I even see who is living around us and Jack sometimes looks up himself and stops at the staircase and I wonder how much long would I be able to hold and one night, he excuses to smoke and that’s when I keep the lights on and I decide to sit in the middle of the kitchen, recalling in a fog how Miles and Alex (his boyfriend) had ventured for Christmas to remind how isolated everyone was and how small the interactions were. Once me and Jack got tea at the local cafe and I paid attention how little people spoke and how all the orders were done on the phone and soon enough we were left alone and I wondered if he was with me because there was nothing else.

Was he with me because there was nothing else.

Nothing else at all.

Time was slipping from my hands and a whirlwind and I recall how I had celebrated Valentine’s with Brian and I wondered how much had I changed over the years and how much had there been in a change and how much had I missed myself through depressive episodes. I lit a cigarette, recalling how last night, I realized that I don’t even notice that he’s there, I’m so used to him and to us not touching, even if my whole body aches and I wonder if I myself give enough love for him to keep myself existing and how come I never got asked by anyone, I would just get stared at as I would talk to spirits or ghosts when called over like that time I had taken Jack, walking back, was exhausting and Jack offered me his arm, keeping his questions for later.

And I had asked him, feeling as if I were to sleep, knowing that I would sleep on the way back and I had wanted back home, I had asked him if he wanted to be my Valentine.

He declined.

Last night I had started seeing him ruffle through the clothes, through the lockers, through all the rooms, rummaging and showing me rooms I had not seen (and even the room I had hidden his skin in) to try and find it, because it had been his right, but my body had stared shaking and all memories collapse and relapse

I stand up, still smoking, as I open the door, feeling the dark cold hit me as I keep walking, feeling myself uncomfortable that I even close my eyes to grab the backpack and I take the skin out, recalling how I had yelled back at him

that he would never leave.

I think of burning it in the kitchen, as I waste all of the alcohol bottle I would cook with, but that would cause a house fire, naturally, so I drag the old, worn out thing which Jack has seen the world in and I know that I no longer control myself and that something is going on with the last scratch I had gotten on my arm, how it had stretched and Jack offered to read a prayer

but I declined, for it had done nothing to me when I tried the night before

sometimes it’s better to see how planned things go

to see if you can get out.

I don’t hold and when I don’t even know if it’s the 13th or the 14th of February I drag where the snow is the thinnest and Jack looks at his skin before I drop it on the ground and drop an opened lighter on it. 


I don’t even stay to watch it burn, flipping at him and that’s when I’m sure I’ve got more than scratches and bruises all over my body, because love abuses you.

-

I actually had to edit because I didn't soak Jack's selkie skin in alcohol so then I wrote the next bit for the next chapter. Frankly, I fucked up, I hadn't binged in a while and I was dying to write and I was really inspired to write 500 xD so I've been dying all day and because frankly it's a rough and horror story, it's heavy and yeah, this is my 13th/14th February gift :D

HAPPY VALENTINE'S

I KNOW YOU DON'T READ MY STORIES FOR LIGHT STUFF XD

Anyway, I kind of wanted to honor the holiday and all, I'll see if I'll have something else tomorrow but all stories I'm updating now are heavy and well, I guess this is the best themed gift even if I'm rather a love-love person and I'm celebrating with Callie, it doesn't really change my writing style and I mused regarding last year, since I wrote a one-shot but I really wanted to continue writing my novels and I was in a messy relationship as well last year and I kind of wanted to fix things, didn't so yeah. So pretty much back on track and I asked Callie what had she wanted and we both wanted the new chapter of 500 and this one is big as well xD

I felt bad about the skips because I don't like them but I liked capturing how everything goes past you and you don't notice anything at times, so I liked capturing that. And I wanted Valentine's. And I actually felt bad if I wasn't descriptive enough. I didn't write a lot of 500 in a while or I ahve been slowly, like the train scenes were from the other place we were at, so it was rough time so I kind of find it hard to pick up stories which I wrote in places when I was depressed, but 500 is set where I am now and I really love the story, I wonder how the time skip affects everything but it's not supposed to be a very big novel either but I love it to bits. 

Well, frankly we're getting to the climax? Is that how you call it? XD Jamie burning Jack's skin was one of those first even notes I thought of with a story and all is going by plan. I wonder if this is the part where I go you get cookie if you're figuring out stuff xD Is it obvious? Or do I pretend I have no idea? 

The first phrase surely came from apple cider. I think I was either drinking it or thinking of it xD

500 was the first story I used to frankly set this world's setting and make it even more gruesome so that's why I really enjoy the story and I love that the setting of 500 is just as strong as the plot itself and they're both very interesting and I like that they're very separate, the setting is like a background in a theatre telling the story in it's own way and just highlighting how bad things are. 

I had thought I would have the chapter up through the winter holidays, but I didn't so here xD

I think um, seeing the current unnamed character was really interesting and I will address it later even more and kind of talk of my experience as well, for now, a mystery is a mystery. I hadn't recalled if he had shown up before or not, but here he is, I just sometimes forget which chapters I have posted and which ones I haven't xD

Many stories I write about in stories like 500 are things I've heard or have experienced, the CCTV was told to me and frankly, I get a bit angry when people make things up and lie that they are real, CCTV is one of the real ones, actually and I dunno, I like hearing actual stories, not made up ones, so that's why I make a point of pointing out where's fiction and where is actual things. 

Back as I talked of the trains once we had a guy from London (sorry accent was far too obvious and it was funny because he was trying to determine where was I from and me and Callie also mused on it) and yeah, I kind of took that for the story, because you kind of stare when you see someone else speak among themselves in English even if it's every day, I dunno why. 

And the couple, it was weird to see someone which dressed up like me, only he had been taller and that was it and I was in make-up, it was odd XD

The Iceland tradition was something I had read and used, really, figuring that Jack travelled around. 

And I guess Jamie's one-sided love is frankly a topic which well, fits Valentine's frankly and something we all can relate to (again, when did my blog have anything optimistic xD)

I seem to have a thing to make Jamie talk of Gogol fuck knows why xD Chichikov is a character of Dead Souls, can't even recall what my line of thinking was. 

Sometimes I wonder about my experiences because when you do psychological assesment tests they always ask you about spiritual encounters and that kind of intimidates me frankly and feels very excluding because I understand that it may be a sign, but it's wrong to take off things which are there and you're not the only one which sees and etc.

The Jamie and Jack bickering are one liners me and Callie laugh about which I state as jokes through out the day, so yeah, I guess things like these seep through and it's obvious who my stories are dedicated and written for.

I think I either wrote Brian's phrase post-coital or I just write good post-coital thinking XD

I'm poly so I quite freely give the space for characters to juggle many relationships and feelings at once, frankly.

It's funny that I don't really emphasize where the story is set and I think it's the first time I stated that it's Sweden in the story and I chose Gothenburg even if I've been there once to use. Originally I was going to write about Jamie and his medium sessions in this chapter but don't worry all is ahead xD

What tempted me to write this today was the honesty before bed, which I had last night, it's quite hard frankly to confess even to yourself really straight to the face realizations and I was speaking about it to Callie, I dunno, I've always been open about my partners or people I've crushed on with her so it's very natural for both of us to discuss and even mock around each other xD so I quite like how I had phrased it in the morning and I was frankly lazy to write it down, I was lazy to write down many things today to make sure that I would write today and here I am even with a good backstory xD

I talked about the time skips before in this backstory, sorry, messy I know xD 

It's also the first time I use Miles and Alex's names here fully, yay xD

Me and Callie were drinking tea at a cafe, waiting for the bus and I realized how much antisocial every is (just like us) so that's why I enjoy writing small observations into things like 500 and Blue/Jacket which are set in places I've lived or live frankly.

I kind of thought a bit of my last year's where I was miserable and musing what the fuck to do and this one which is more casual and loved, really. So I kind of did those parallels. 

Jack's reply to make Jamie burn the skin originally was different but I'm sure they would have that talk again. 

Regarding the scratches and bruises I had forgotten that well, they happen in such cases and I got a bruise and a scratch but mine were most likely from packing, I checked, so that reminded me to use it. I'm trying to make a suptle hinting fest, but it's so fucking obvious, isn't it? XD

I decided to specifically post it since it has the whole 13th/14th feel even if this is more for Valentine's with Jamie's love, frankly.

All will make sense if it doesn't.

I love the ending phrase and I deliberately ended there and I dunno, I like the metaphor even if it's surely not love causing what's happening.

I hope you enjoyed it and I hope you will have a good Valentine's and thank you for your love, I love you guys as well

<3

Jamie