Relationship Values

The earlier you wake up thinking you have a hangover, the earlier you will have it. It’s not even if I drank enough water last night or more alcohol, it becomes the shrouded loneliness with all the assumptions and configurations to make everything sane go wrong. Loneliness was becoming a craft where I had no idea to pin myself down and where. Everything seemed to be scattering by leaving all stores open and all friends lost by the end of the night, that inspiration would only rattle at the night of a toy store. It had started getting out of hand for me, everything seemed to be made for one, as if he had never lived here and I had decided to keep the marriage ring around my neck even if it had been years ago and we had been married for several. 

The mailbox with letters is barely ever pleasant and they’re never filled with news you never want to hear, so maybe that’s why I collect them as early as possible and if needed I just retreat back to bed, to lull on them, mostly due to old divorce papers as all was done at a ridiculous distance neither of us wanted, but did anyway. 

But it wasn’t even about that, it was about finding harmony within oneself and managing through the days without such bitter sour misery. I grabbed the letter, yanking it open, wondering at the official sense of it. Reading it through, I closed it, feeling my body shake and knowing why I hadn’t been contacted by phone and I would need this letter anyway and I was sure that the last days which were given to me without knowing were far from a gift for me to keep sane, but the desire to avoid me for even more days. 

At times you don’t even know if you should even feel sorry, because you never really cared about the person, even if they’re dead and the memories are all wrong for recollection. And I had to speak out if I wanted to keep the house, which I had kept for myself anyway, 

something given but never written in my name. As I walked back into the house, I grabbed my phone, seeing the battery long dead and wondering how long would it even take to turn on. It took a boiled kettle and some coffee to make me even more alert and paranoid, as I felt my shoulders jerk in a sob which I wasn’t even aware of. I leaned against the window, watching some birds chirp easily at the seeds which were left from winter and I wondered what would even be the sign of my own death.

“Lana?” I say, as soon as my sister picks up. I tap my nails against the window. “Yeah. I just got the letter.”

I don’t even ask her regarding why did she not tell me anything and what was holding her down, when I seem to know all the answers anyway and she tells me that she would be over tomorrow and to prepare some bedroom for her, since the process should be over soon, not saying what outcome she had wished on the house and the parent’s house and how the money would be split.

The fear of everything gone wrong is more than the strike of a lightning.

And too many loves become a grape branch, each and every one becoming the same problem as the rest as every single person you’ve loved has stolen your heart and it’s as if every time you grow a new one, for someone else to steal. And it gets worse by calling him, with the belief that his regrets run just as deep, sitting on the floor makes nothing better, as I recall him smoking and drinking wine, as I tell him that I prefer stories left ambiguous, which allow you to know that not everything is told and makes sense in the end, you never know who truly loved you or why you had never confessed besides the daft explanation that fate works like a clock, man-made and senseless. 

And being alone always means exorcising your own demons and it takes me a good few phone calls to even go through to him, with all the words fleeing from me and whatever he would say would make my hands shake, as I can hear him exhale smoke and I can see him, as he would on every morning and I just close my eyes on my own desire to be alone. I know where I land and what I had chosen because I just couldn’t take it anymore, our anxieties clashing far too often. We both listen to each other’s silence as he speaks out once I get the ring from under my shirt and I put it on, as if that would make Jamie finally speak to me verbally and not just through letters, as if his living is more important than some parent’s death which would bring some small fortune for a day. Like in the King for a Day episode of Top Cat.

“Yeah, mom died.” I don’t even sob and I keep looking ahead. “I just needed some help with the papers, since Lana wants her half as I understood, but I need-”

“Can’t you hire a different lawyer?” He sighs and I hear barking in the distance, before he shouts at Archie to calm down. If I was in a different mindset, I would tell myself that the dog misses me too. I shake my head. 

“I know you’ll bother with it-” And I cut him short, my fuse far shorter than his these days even with myself in the room, alone and head between knees, I would destroy the whole room if I could stand up. 

“Yeah, well, I don’t want to bother with you.”

“So you’d give up the house I grew up in, is that what you’re willing to do, Jamie?” I snarl, clutching the phone harder, I can see him tapping his fingers against his table, pulling his lip afterwards. I hold my mouth, so that he doesn’t have to be reminded. He holds his silence. “The house which I took you in and-”

“Fine.” He snaps.

“I’ll need you after the funeral. Appreciate if you could be at the fun-”

“Yeah, I got an invite too, don’t worry, but can we-”

“Yeah, we will meet after the funeral, don’t worry.” I swallow and then we say our goodbyes and I drop the call, feeling blood leave my body and I just lay under the kitchen counter now, looking at all the scribbles I’ve done, recalling Jamie’s taste all of a sudden, trying not to open a box of memories

because a lost lover consumes less than a tattered family.

I know I’ve given you my heart and you have it, but I don’t see you or my heart for that matter.

-

This story frankly was born because I was sulking too much from Poison the Rose ending and yeah, I've still got to scrap the remains of my soul and publish the last chapter, in the meantime, have this (at this point of existence I have no title for it, I should have it by the end of the backstory xD) 

I was really depressed because I enjoyed the whole androgynous Alison with Lana and some fucked up Jamie backstory so yeah xD I just got sad and I tend to take couples or something and then develop in a different way, I guess an AU fanfic of an AU fanfic? But I really can't say they're much related besides that to be very honest xD 

My mental state has been odd to be honest, so just like I was really depressed while writing the last chapters of Poison the Rose, same happened here and the thoughts of a plot. I was musing because I really wanted a new Alison/Lana and I thought for a few days what could crawl into my head even if I was telling myself to fuck off xD I know, I have a bunch of ongoing stories, I know, I know XD

I still have no title ideas. Anyway, onwards.

Also I was thinking that I do touch death very very often and wills and etc, but I never went on the process or fights if you must regarding if there's no will and etc. So I kind of wanted to touch that topic first and foremost to be honest, then I was either napping or falling asleep and I started thinking of how frankly I wanted a fucked up story, that's how frankly the weirdest things get ever written, so this is supposed to be awfully odd and I guess that's where we touch the incest topic here. In general I like discussing controversy if you must and I've written the oddest of stories back then and I've writen incest before, mostly requests, but either way, I kind of wanted something fucked up and kind of dig on a fucked up family, I'm not one to speak of family as a whole in a bright light besides some people, so that kind of is also one of the backbone's and how I don't think families really work well unless you actually get a good bond over time, but in general it's really fucked up because you're obliged so yeah. 

Another thing which oddly inspired me heavily in to write Alison was she had this interview with junk magazine, I think? It's the one where she talks and has photos of her house and it really struck me as solid solitude, whether it was happy or not it was debatable but that really struck out to me and inspired me ever since I read it to pick up her character even if I'm not fond of her current state and frankly the interview was a terrible disaster, but the solitude struck out to me and the 11 p.m. Toys 'r' Us shopping session not the mini truck and tire tracks, but those things still got to me, even the weirdest of things inspire me and smallest as well. I can get inspired by a milk carton for all I care xD

I don't even recall how exactly I came up with it just now, I just sleepily thought of a sort of cover or whatever with Lana and Alison holding puzzle pieces in their mouths and I was thinking of something puzzle-related, but instead Relationship Values popped in my head because it matched the image and the story, so yeah x) I think it matches it but I get anxious always about titles, so moving on xD

I get dizzy or my head spins rather often when I'm tired and I didn't really have a hungover, but hey, I stylized it for the beginning and I just started writing the story then with that thought xD and yeah, I'm anxious as usual about this story so it's taking me a while to describe everything in the backstory and whatnot xD

Letters may be pleasant or not, but y'know a good letter is always good and you get those, so yeah, but here's kind of looking at the flipside. Only good letters to all by the way xD 

I have no idea where I got the ring around the neck, I had a few images in my head and now I'm like wait, Jamie Hince wears rings around his neck, so yeah xD Anyway, I just wanted the image of some broken metaphor really. 

I guess being a divorce child or whatever category I've been placed in, I don't really touch divorce too often and I kind of I guess wanted to ruffle through my own demons for this story regarding family, divorce, inheritance and etc. Also just fuck things up as usual 8)

I guess maybe some push was Looking's lastest episode where they call Doris to announce the death of her father, but briefly. I think I wrote the story before the episode? My sense of time is fucked over. 

Sometimes I think of backstories or my feelings and thought in perfect sentences in my head and they end up in a stylized way on paper, like the demons thing which Alison thinks of. 

Kind of touching not my nostalgia and memories but rather Alison's backstory or whatnot for some reason the only episode I can recall of Top Cat which I watched as a child was the King for a Day one, I dunno why it sort of went in my head through the years, inspired me by the end even if it were just a line or rather a comparison, so yeah. 

I think Jamie has the biggest diversity of jobs in my story specifically for someone who's spoken loudly about 9 to 5 jobs x) 

I use many tropes and this is... the third story where Alison took Jamie in her house? 

I get angsty obviously on my own reasons and that's where the last sentence slipped in, as I didn't even bother making a direct address on who Alison was thinking of, so yeah.

Tell me if you liked it ;D

I hope you enjoyed it and thank you, honestly, thank you so much

<3

Jamie

Poison the Rose 6

Confessing and all the rituals prior feel like a roll of the dice. 

Just fuck me up.

Let me lay in the bathtub, feeling myself free and broken and underwater, as Jamie sits besides me, reading a newspaper, checking and knowing how much I can hold underwater and I can see him grabbing me from the tub, slipping, knowing that I would be dead and then putting me up straight once he can, to believe that heartbreak from the dead would do nothing

that I would be unbroken porcelain

because I never said I love you enough

because all the snow had melted and spring was gray, muddling through the summer and the winter again with it’s bones with wrong loves, wrong thoughts and wrong card flicks

because you know you can’t do it

Lana would be all the words, even if she were not to know it

because you have faith in those who have loved and carried their strength to their bones which would take longer to rot and then fill up everything around us, slowly to make us breathe when we are dead

I don’t know how to tell her how much I had loved her and walking past the streets and the bars, I had never wished so hard that we had met

met so much before

and I could’ve.

Take me to the streamers with the smell of beer and be there because you weren’t there.

Let me love, knowing.

I wish I could see clearer and I can’t even get myself to look at the evidence which just consists of photos which I had quickly flicked over and descriptions of the cut hair and that was it and my own recollection of holding her, as Jamie dropped the wine. And everything mixed in the snow, as if it could hold it for eternity but only laughing that nothing lasts forever and someone else’s life strangles yours.

Me and Jamie had sat under the streamers and he told me how he had seen a teacher puke out drunk, vomiting and letting children who went out to drink as well and I wondered why had I pictured him on the same square, closer to the colourful streamer street, as we sat, ourselves drinking and the snow hadn’t melted now, but it was pure summer when he told me, both of us in a weird recollection scene where neither discusses their or other’s mistakes. 

So it becomes a way, that any denial of seeing the person makes you wonder who you really are and what have you been before, because now you’ve got to cut it out, the part where you were with the person to understand what had been going on in that cut out photograph. 

And it makes it lonelier to come back to who you were alone and forgiven.

“If you were to die now, what would your thoughts be... regarding death, what would you even be thinking even?” I say, breathing out the smoke as Jamie remains for the night, as I take the couch and he sits on a chair nearby, poking some old magazines we’ve used for collages years ago and it feels like everything should be going back somewhere because you always feel the change, if everything were to end and go red, I’d think it always was like this.

He looks at me, as if we would be discussing someone else’s death.

“I’d probably think...” He pauses, looking away. 

“I’d want to know that Lana loves me.”

“But she did.”

“But if death is nothing, I’d want to die knowing something I would never know again.”

-

I still think it's one of the saddest stories to let go considering that I had entirely fallen with it and kind of changed it dramatically on these last chapters to be honest and I just keep thinking about other stories I could start with Alison/Lana since Disaster isn't one so yeah xD 

I dunno, I guess a lot of the love comes from making Alison androgynous, so that kind of hits home and what made this story good well, which I agreed as I was discussing it with Callie, which she said was that these chapters shed a lot of light on Alison/Jamie which had a weird edge in the beginning. 

I've been awfully manic these past few days so it's been awfully stressful, so that kind of makes stories which were written under previous manic episodes with I guess vivid short imagery. These two chapters were written as I was depressed and I was frankly feeling like shit and I honestly opened to fuck things up xD and here is what happened, really. The dice roll was because I was just feeling angsty and that's where it came from, because you never know what actually happens by the end of your side, as you tell it that is.

I like giving my characters opposite to me opinions like Alison not believing in the afterlife, really. 

I think baths are the new waltzing xD

One of the biggest kind of regrets I always have regarding partners is not having enough past memories, that I never saw them as kids, teenage years in some cases or early teens and that we had just met now, when we could've somehow before, really 

When I was writing this story I wondered how much insight should I give on such things as some things mentioned here, because I really try to stay open in backstories but I'm not too fond of talking regarding people I'm attracted to besides Callie, so yeah, I can shed light on some memories with her, so I thought later, after writing on how much light should I even allow, since I've been a bit of a weird place, I don't speak much of it, but at times I feel uncomfortable on how people end up knowing too much and obsessing over me, so many things end up hidden under wraps, the bare minimum told in a story, but it becomes a conflict because I honestly adore telling what happened where and why. 

Either way, back to the story, many places just strike me in mind, which I end up using, I can't recall but I think I mentioned this specific region of Lisbon in "-" which I'm talking about here, but either way, it kind of inspired me, how me and Callie would sit there drinking and it was always gorgeous and yeah. The teacher story was something Callie had told me as we were walking around, specifically in this square and that kind of stuck to me, I guess coz I imagined the teacher vividly xD

I miss doing collages out of magazines, I should do that, that's why the phrase is there xD

The next chapter is the last and frankly I dunno, I'm trying to do a less spoiling word, but it really explains the whole story as a whole and Lana's death specifically, so it really wraps up all holes and I hope you'll like it as this chapter as the whole story

Please if you liked it, please tell me as I'm freaking out if it's good because I'm honestly shattered that I finished it and I am very very satisfied with the ending and fucking sad xD

Thank you

<3

Jamie

We've all been broken. There is something in the polaroids we take of the ones we love. 3

“Piss off.” I had laughed and ended up spilling time that I crawled into bed by morning to wake up way after noon and roll over, recalling time far too much.

Arielle had started hosting parties far too often and Miles would drag me, causing her to ship us which frankly would result in people asking disturbing questions they would ask any gay couple with the fact that we weren’t even one. Miles just brushed them off, bedazzled by his boyfriend and I had grown a new fear of the stereo even if I seemed to have gained control over it, because the girl would sit next to me and seemed odd that we barely spoke, sometimes thinking out loud which record would work, but it was very monotonous and I wondered if polka dot tights today with the dress meant something and I was far from any human contact besides Miles and Alex who had taken me out when Miles had some conference with some employer back at home. 

Being with Alex had been relaxing and odd, as it was weird to feel what other monogamous men felt towards me, indifference and I even forgot besides what with Miles, how it felt like to even be surrounded by someone who you were nowhere close or rather interested in fucking. It felt odd to even roam the same things, I would with Miles and I wondered how long would their thread of dating even go on and I would watch Arielle and I wondered how would I have reacted if I hadn’t known, would I just be as loving as Arielle if Brian hadn’t been a blabbermouth. Blocking Brian everywhere was enough and he never showed up to my house and I wondered how long would it last, how much longer, until he showed up, both of us at the supermarket and he had been with Stefan, who was hogging up the chocolate isle. 

“My blood had drained from my face, I just put my head down and I left.” I had told Alex, as he had listened. “That was all. I didn’t want anything, but at the same time, I just thought that... I still looked better. I had my hair dyed that day-”

“You dye your hair?”

“No, it’s naturally pitch black. Alex, I’ve changed like three brown tones the past month.” I muttered, drinking the pitch black coffee we took as takeaway, walking the streets and popping into random stores which had nothing besides plain flannel and boxers, but it was still fun. 

I still spoke of Brian.

“Maybe I just didn’t understand because we were so different, that if he went back to his exes, he’d go back to me. That disturbs me. How broken can you be and still cause pain to others. I loved him too much to make me shaken even now.” My medication was getting to me. “I had loved him or whatever he had given to me, screaming that I was the only one he could be mono with, but I didn’t mind

I didn’t mind.

It’s sad because they slip out of your fingers. I took a day dose.” I mutter as an explanation. “Makes me think of exes I’ve lost because I didn’t understand them because I’ve got a lot of empathy-”

“Jamie, you broke up with him.”

Suicide is calming because you know you can end anything at any point when it becomes too much. I just keep drinking the coffee, even if it’s far too hot just to throw it out and have my hands back in my pockets, as I think of the right words to scramble out.

“Yeah, but he’s the one who cheated. I don’t think I can be held blamed for breaking up with him, Al.” I tell him and he just shrugs, as we keep walking and I stop in front of the sex store, highly bored with my life and wondering if I’ve reached the point where maybe I need to bring something else in my lone bedroom, since I haven’t been able to even use any of the toys Brian would use on me, frankly just using my hands. “Hey, straight boy, can I head in?”

I smirk at him, knowing that I should’ve chosen Miles for this, as usually we roam more naturally and Miles still takes the dildos and like anyone mutters on someone’s bravery. Alex just shrugs and we head in. I see that he feels a bit uncomfortable and I wonder if he and Miles properly roamed, but then it hasn’t been too long that they’ve settled down on their cheating on Arielle bit. It feels far too spacious and frankly I’m more used to small rooms which have nothing and half of it is frankly really bad porn DVDs, as we even get stared down. I wonder how much Alex looks out of place, I just browse through the shelves and taking some leather corset once we reach the small section of clothing and press it against Alex’s body.

“Looks good, excite Miles and then I’ll end up hearing Miles whine about how much he misses fucking you, when you’re at work.” I smirk, putting it back and Alex just smirks, still a bit uncomfortable and I wonder how vanilla actually is it with Arielle, finding Brian’s collar last night and just chucking it out on the street, wondering if it would cause more ruckus than a condom or a syringe. I walk back to the toys and I grab a paddle.

“I had a boyfriend, back in high school and my dad was nagging that my room was a mess and he started going through things and he found a paddle.” I smirk, recalling the memory and Alex pales a bit, probably recalling what Miles had told him about my life and I quickly sigh, shaking my head, but the wrong memories not stinging too strongly this time. “No, he didn’t do anything, thought it was a Halloween costume, like I said. He threw out the paddle, though.”

I click my tongue, taking the plain black paddle.

“Maybe you want one with Miles, though?” Alex just shakes his head and I smirk, looking at the small things like sex position dices and sex cheques along with some variations of sexual monopoly. I don’t really venture on Alex with sex questions like I would with Miles, but from what I gathered from both, they’re still having a sexual relationship anyway, so something should be working for both of them somehow. But then we never really know what goes on with everyone and even when we know and I think of Brian laying on the bed, smoking, watching me, a bit confused at his own thoughts when we had both drank too much a few hours before, the booze wearing off and the night giving it’s adrenaline of comfort. 

We never know people and what do they do and what attracts them to someone, which attraction gives an accurate receipt of a person? Alex is fucking my best friend, but he’s also with Arielle, whom I can barely even relate to and whenever we talk, I feel like I enter a field of jokes which would be whispered between me and Miles later about straights. So what is there to people that we don’t see?

Or is there nothing to see?

“May, I help you... both?” And a man much taller approaches us with a lock of curly hair and I just remember that I still have the energy to blow dry mine so it doesn’t become a mess and I muse on the guy’s question, as Alex just crosses his arms. I smirk, making wrong connections at questions. I look at Alex and nod at the shop assistant.

“No, no, I’m fine.” He blurts out and I nod. 

“Nah, we’re fine.” I say and the guy nods, leaving us to the other end of the store, to get out more porn mags which frankly are full of images and I have never seen the appeal, being more of the finding porn to jerk off to online type. I walk over to the dildos, taking the biggest and as Alex watches the wall of erected penises, I poke his cheek with it and he just grabs it back to put it on the glass stand. 

“I thought he’d say you and your boyfriend.” Alex mutters smirking at his own realization and quickly glancing at me. 

“Nah, what if we’re just fucking around like you and Miles or something, so... he’s being open to cheating and stuff.” I say that, before I realize how pointy my tongue sounds, but Alex picks up something else. “And you’re far too handsome Al, to be mine.”

He ignores my dead flirting which neither of us are interested in. 

“Actually... we’re not just fucking around.” He mutters shyly and I glance back at the curly bloke for some reason. I nod at him to continue and I see him flush lightly. “We’ve kind of started dating, it’s obviously behind backs now and yeah... you know the whole drill and all.”

“Why the fuck don’t you dump Arielle then?” I really don’t hold back and I take one of the dildos and turn it on to frankly spin sideways and the soundtrack to our talk. And Alex just pretends to either ignore or think on the question and I poke him with the dildo. 

“I don’t... I’m not sure. Miles told me how he came out and how you came out and-” I quickly bother to interrupt him.

“Yeah, but I came out in high school and so did Miles.” I pause. “No, Miles did in University.”

“And no one really took it lightly.” Alex sighs.

“Well, yeah, it wasn’t too good.” I pick up my words. “We both had fucked up situations, but that doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t and you pay your own bills, neither me nor Miles payed them then, so that’s why it was very fucked up, because our parents had the upper hand.”

I shrug. 

“But you don’t have to go around and tell people, hey, I’m gay. It’s more about to yourself and not necessarily about sexuality, I mean, I really can’t speak who you’re attracted to as much as I may be making some daft jokes and assumptions.” I say as he just nods, drifting his vision back to the dildos and takes the dildo to turn it off. “So it’s more about you and Miles. I know I’m standing here judging and I don’t know how much Arielle loves you if she does, but it hurts like a bitch and the sooner you do it, the better and you don’t have to tell her anything about your current personal life. Just quietly end everything. I would’ve preferred if Brian had done that. But that’s me speaking. I’m speaking for Arielle because I couldn’t speak for me.”

-

I feel as if it's a bit behind on plot and more on musings because that's how I have been recently, frankly. And I guess it's a bit odd and I guess just confirms it how odd it would feel and make everything I guess more naturally and I would myself start liking how everything is going rather than jumping far too fast, frankly. So yeah, I dunno, I get very anxious before I post anything to be very honest, is this story good for today, what else have I got really since the posting/writing are rather separate these days unless I finnish off a chapter and just end up choosing something different than what I'm writing. I wrote some of England's Not Breathing today and a bit of the next chapter of this story, since I opened it and before writing the back story xD 

The piss off follows the other conversation and yeah, I've been quite fast with this story being rather honest about my mental health and using it, writing thoughts and rapid feelings down, really. 

I saw this photo of Valentine with polka dot tights and also a polka dot dress and that really stuck to mind and seemed like a nice image. I feel odd, that I seem to be shipping Jamie with all his exes. But yeah, we're all creepy frankly or are we really?

It's also a bit weird posting this after the whole Miles/Jamie No. 1 Party Anthem chapter where Miles starts thinking a lot on the past, when Jamie is entirely drowning in his break-up really, but I guess we all muse on exes or things which never happened when I was going to say miserable but I think heart broken is a good word or in some odd state of is it happening, is it not. It's really on the downside to be polyamorous at times just like any other state of attraction really xD 

I think the oddest thing is to bump into exes which I haven't done in years really and I think if to choose one was I was dating this guy years and years ago and the first time I saw him months after the break up I was wearing a red dress and black shiny platform shoes. I remember walking away, shaking and thinking how metaphorical I had looked in a red dress. It was a lovely red dress xD 

I think one of the oddest things is when you notice how often Jamie's hair colour changes actually and I love it all to bits :3

I dunno I sometimes hate that it boils down to who broke up with who rather than who fucked up what, really, so I kind of addressed that and frankly this story really speaks my mind out on things or maybe a different perspective so it's like how much explaining should I do? xD 

I had an old friend over and I quite enjoy sex shops frankly so I always walk in and I understand that it's not everyone's drill but I'm not too happy over faces and whatnot, so yeah, kind of wanted the whole 'shit, where am I, this is fucked up' sort of aspect to be touched even if Alex is slowly growing far more tolerant and I dunno it's oddly nice and refreshing to have this story which sheds light on the future of No. 1 Party Anthem even if it's just a few weeks ahead:3 

The sex shop was used as well or the idea because I was getting angry at bad BDSM representation and that it's going under light of shaming due to 50 shades of grey, really, so I kind of shed some light here even if obviously BDSM is the main focus in So you can sink. which is milex as well and I've been writing:) 

The paddle is an actual story I laugh about. I had my dad over when I just moved out. xD So yeah. Funny enough. I miss that paddle, it was a fucking good paddle, it had like this pink material and a pin-up girl on it, it was really nice. Shit, I don't know what happened to the ruler I had. I really need to stock myself up, anyway XD sorry if I won't talk open, think of yourself really because as fucked up as it is we ourselves need to start talking in spaces we find comfortable, I guess like I openly talk about sex in this blog (as if IRL I don't start discussing this loudly for hours making people change seats, although I knew this guy who asked me when I wasn't out if I liked anal for the whole bus to hear, good times, good times). 

I get a kick of avoiding OCs.

I will never get sick of Jamie's snarky comments. I'd be an ass too.

Spoiler for No. 1 Party Anthem then xD

And I guess I like the ending and frankly it speaks for itself.

I hope you enjoyed it and please tell me if you did:3

<3

Jamie

England's Not Breathing 2

“Yeah, I remember that story, I can’t remember what the person’s name was, though.” Jonny said, blowing on his tea as we all sat in the kitchen, Jonny claiming the floor, as a few other people whose name we hadn’t recalled yet enough or others which would soon enough vanish to no longer be boyfriends or girlfriends, as Pete just kept playing with a lighter and I wondered how long would it even take us to get the fire alarm on. We had all drank the beer, but none of us managed to get anywhere close to at least having our thoughts hazed and it seemed to be far too late to bother to go outside to chain smoke, even if sleep wasn’t bothering to grace our bodies with drowsiness anytime soon, but we still stayed in the kitchen, Pete and Jonny reminiscing old things which seemed to be going through their heads, as a new year would slowly keep unfolding and I just waved them off, heading back into the room, right under the blankets and wondering if I could ever count stars on my bedcovers and that had been the last thought of the night, washed away by the morning’s deja vu. 

It becomes hard and I seem to far too neurotic as we get told to think of things for design and I seem to be struggling, nearly piercing my lip with the pencil as I still think of the sketch, legs under me, all thoughts dissolving into nothing and I just keep sketching boxes as if they would be filled with something, as my head seems to start aching from no pressure even being given to it and I recall Pete telling me about his friend and it seems odd, how all was dropped instantly because it’s more than often when you and your friends stop a conversation and in your head, you’re still talking to yourself about it and it just reminds you of some shallow deceived loneliness, which nags, reminds you there is a reason I’ve never gone for Pete or for Jonny whom I barely talk to these days, as he always shrugs off going to the pub, Pete coming with me for company. 

So he had just mentioned Damon then and in all fashion, I started musing what would I even say if the link was so easy to approach, pressing my hand against my cheek, sketching ropes now, not even recalling what the subject was supposed to be, as people seem just as lost as always, you tend to think people grab some responsibility as years go, but instead we seem more like toddlers in diapers, we puke all over the place still. 

It would just be as daft as in high school, only I had some evidence or rather too much, since he seemed to entertain everyone nearly every night, shyly singing and avoiding the crowd as if it were a void, he was too much at unease with being the lead singer that I would watch him at all times, when he would break and relax. It was odd to think that Damon would meet us in the pub, as if he were a magnet to lure the singer out. What do you even say in a tribe of a bizarre near to blind date where only one participant is aware? I wondered if that meant that Damon would talk before hand and of course, it just meant nothing. 

Damon was waiting for us already, Pete dropping his attire from yesterday, yawning from recalling next to dawn that he hadn’t even started on a due essay, causing him to barely feel awake as we just walked on. Damon had lighter hair and it’s odd whenever you see a new face, because you don’t register all the traits and you wonder how many more times would you even see him anyway. All anxiety seemed to have risen to all of my neck, paralyzing it, but I still managed to mutter a hello and quickly shake his hand, causing Damon to smirk, as Pete just grabbed the chair next to Damon, as his light eyes focused on me.

“So, you into Scarfo then?” Pete’s friend asked me, as he took out a cigarette box, humming some tune which was even heard over the loud music provided before the band would even show it’s toes and I wondered how long would it take for my torture to start and I wasn’t sure if I wasn’t on foreplay or full on pain at this point, I wasn’t distinguishing anything at all. Pete waved a taken lit cigarette in front of me, before sticking it in my mouth.

“Graham, you spacing out-” And I take a small drag, before speaking myself.

“I’m fine, I’m fine-” I hand him the cigarette back in one quick motion, feel myself freeze. Damon shifts his vision above me and I turn around, as I hear a voice deeper than I had expected.

“Hey, Damon.” And he’s in flesh before me and obviously closer, as I see that he’s older and just as uncomfortable and scanning the table, as I notice Pete do a little wave. He’s got his guitar on his back at the moment, so I’m guessing he would just cut through and end up plugging it eventually. 

“Hey, Jamie.” Damon replies and then starts pointing towards both me and Pete at the right time and even widens his eyes as a sigh when needed at the word huge, which just makes me heat up and go cold a second later, as I keep staring at him, wondering how the fuck can you even look more good looking each day and it’s odd to see him very freshened up and a bit tousled nervous from the fact that he would be playing soon. “So, here’s Pete an old friend of mine, we’re also in the same class now and that’s his friend Graham which is a huge fan of yours.”

“Hey, I like Jamie’s band too, stop discrediting me, Damon.” Pete smirks and I just keep staring and spacing out, as I take Pete’s cigarette, which causes Jamie to smirk lightly as I inhale, making my actions too fast as if time could be taken away from me. “Really, I really like it, you guys are amazing.”

And he cuts himself short, quickly catching my gaze and realizing how awkward this is for me already and how much I wish I were as unnoticeable as concrete on a road. But since I don’t speak up at my silence at all, which is handed, Pete and Damon exchange glances as I keep staring nearly wide eyed and smoking. I’m a fucking fool. 

I feel a kick under the table.

“Sorry, I’m just... dazzled. You guys are amazing and I always loved all the songs-”

“You force me to come here every night.” And here’s the facilitation I don’t need from Pete’s mouth, as he interrupts, nudging somehow forward as now Damon lights himself a cigarette, still keen on watching me. I pick at the table, looking down. I close my eyes briefly. “I hope I payed your bills. Every fucking gig, mate, every fucking-”

“Yeah, we get it, Pete.” Damon interrupts and Jamie just smiles briefly, before the other guitarist quickly pats him on the back, doing a quick nod and heading towards the stage with a pint. Jamie shuffles on his own words. 

“I hope it doesn’t get too boring and yeah. But um, thanks, honestly. I’m glad you enjoy it.” He smiles at me briefly and then glances at his watch. “Sorry, um, I have to start setting up. They get cranky if we start later, I was going to join you later, but decided to say hi before the set.” 

“Oh, um, thanks.” I mutter as if to no one in particular. Now nearly chipping all of the table’s furnish off with my nails. Jamie glances at my hand, probably feeling just as odd on being on a pedestal, I would. He nods and excuses himself, holding onto the strap. I watch him go into the crowd.

“What the fuck, that was disastrous-” Pete starts, but I cut him off, wishing I could somehow do a switch button on all of tonight. 

“Yeah, it would have been even worse if you decided to say that I jerk off to him every night by sketching him in my sleep or something-”

“Jesus, of course he knows what your intentions were. Don’t worry, he’s just as shy, honestly, Graham.” And then Damon looks at Pete, who seems to be shrugging and pulling the ashtray towards him, pushing the chair a bit further for him to prop his knees against the table. 

“They’ll be fine, honestly, Pete.” Now Damon assures Pete. He blows out the smoke. “So, you’re in art then, Graham?”

He waits for me to switch back, as I see Jamie on stage and I wish I would’ve gone after him in the crowd and said something, but I guess since he would be joining later, I should have some sort of chance to do anything at least excuse myself for being so blatantly stupid. I nod, fixing my glasses, as if forcing a new habit than destroying furniture which would have been more loved by the new people seeping into the pub. 

-

I felt awfully depressed from finishing off this other story called Poison the Rose, so I was sunken in this odd depression that I had finished it and I found it hard to write and with mania constantly on my heels so yeah, so in the end depression and my own anxiety building up I think ended up being the best preparation for this chapter. So the past few days I would scribble a bit of one story and others, but then I randomly saw a photo of Jonny Greenwood and I realized how long I hadn't written anything with him, so I ended up thinking that I could chuck him in even if it's a brief cameo and I got carried away and even if I was writing it slow and rather anxious and chunky, I still love how it ended up and I still have this rough anxiety holding me back now, so yeah.

Same shout out to that story and in general I think like any Blur fan I will gladly point out how excited I am for the new album and Go Out is just so amazing and I'll be honest, I was very doubtful of Blur's return if it would happen and I just felt that it wouldn't be Blur-esque and that seemed to make me sad, but hearing Go Out and loving it, I actually feel awful for doubting Blur's comeback which frankly we all knew would happen eventually xD

So I'm awfully excited and pumped up for it :D

As I wrote the chapter I actually asked Callie, wait, why didn't I use Alex James? And then I realized that I do love Alex James, but I truly love Jonny much more and this story seems to be a big mix of FUCK YES, ANYONE WHO EVER WAS ANYWHERE NEAR LONDON WORKS. I have no idea, but that's what it looks like and I like it, I guess other works influence me, writing other things so after To Miles I seem to randomly have stories with a bunch of characters and interactions which is still a bit unusual to introverted me and whatnot. So I seem to be sticking everyone who I've ever been sexually attracted to, it's like a walk down all my teenage years, sheesh. 

I actually sometimes get lazy to research stuff if I'm in the middle, I'll confess, so I just presumed from what I've seen and my own art school what it would be like, so I stuck that scene simply because that's what I had in mind and my own experience. I'm guessing it was close or I guessed, sorry about that.

I don't really have a lot of writer's block I might get stuck on a story, but I have like what 20 ongoing? I don't even know, so is it even if I rotate? And I still write at least 500 words each day, at least, so yeah and I binged this whole chapter and even wrote a bit more for the next. I mused on whether to make this chapter longer, but decided against, so some Gramon awaits you next. xD 

So regarding the boxes it was something I would draw first and then proceed to do the idea and the more I kind of go in life, the more I see how art school really helped my way of thinking like we had a teacher which would tell us and even be angry if we wouldn't be able to sketch a passerby in the what 30 seconds they walk past with one so kind of obsessing with capturing that, possibly influenced my writing and desire to leave it the way I capture it in the beginning, so yeah. But I'm the one who is obsessed with that, so yeah. So I guess art school, specifically that teacher and the Beat generation were the ones who built my writing style and way of presenting I guess xD and I was also taught that if you have paint leak further on the paper, it's a blessing as you should turn it around, so I guess that's what happens to me when I write a passage and then go... shite. Like for instance Graham was supposed to go after Jamie, but he didn't, so many of the scenes which are turned into what ifs and thoughts were actually failed scenes xD 

I think a lot on platonic and friendship and I guess I just shoved that out in the open really. I'm very sexual and a relationship person, I'm too poly, I guess xD

I muse a lot on what I would say, too much xD

I think one of the biggest discoveries you do is that frankly many people which go further in education, it's still a continuation of school so many don't know what they're doing, I guess I always found it weird because uni was just so hard to get into (be born in the wrong countries and you're fucked, it's qualification after qualification, don't forget xenophobia and the institutions against you) I kind of always knew where I wanted to go and I know we all have different stories but I was always lost looking at people who knew nothing what they wanted to do because I knew and I would always get told it's okay not to know, take time off, I don't want to and I want to study and yeah. It doesn't always work that way, but keep trying, I think I speak enough of it in Gandalf's Inhaler xD on how institutions give no shits in the UK specifically since that's what shot me in the first place, so yeah. 

So kind of seeing that people are as scared or lost as you are is a big eye-opener, because yeah, no one really know what to do even if you know where you're going and etc, you still don't know how.

I think it's weird because Gramon is a rather strict ship I've been into for years so trying to break my neck with Graham/Jamie is odd xD even if it's plotwise going and yeah xD and I seem to be drifting into Gramon too fast as expected. 

I space out a lot, so I gave that gift to Graham here and how I deal with it xD Props to Pete xD I love him through out this entire story, I should really stop being a dick to him and make him full main somewhere instead of best friend or friend (I know, To Miles ached, I know). 

It's awfully interesting to hear the few Scarfo live recordings, how shy is even if Jamie's still shy onstage (partially, obviously not as before) but it's still interesting so I just threw a dart blindly, guessing really the end of it xD

I was excited to have Damon and to be honest, the original place how they were supposed to meet changed, but I'll have it in my mind. 

I find it weird that when I'm depressed I will actually write comic chapters and vice versa, so yeah xD here's some relief and I was laughing at it, reading it out to Callie. Also it wasn't planned for Jamie to show up before the set and saying that he would join them later:) I'm doing a lot of smileys again xD fuck XD

I fidget so much, just as much

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it and thanks to my own chunky anxiety that I think I got Graham well, so yeah. 

Please tell me if you liked it, as I'm always anxious and yeah

Thank you, I should have the next chapter up soon since I seem to be binging this easily or sort of easily xD it's hard to write anxiety whilst being anxious

<3

Jamie

Poison the Rose 5

I still get asked questions regarding my relationship with Lana, I get told that unfortunately I have to answer them all even with pauses, water in the room and Jamie smoking outside the building, his own turn after my own, even if we had been buying wine. I don’t understand why the more she decomposes the more I am suspected, but soon the questions turn around, as I get asked more but now about who could’ve done this to Lana if it wasn’t me

For they say that lovers kill lovers

Or that my love could’ve killed.

I’m dismissed and when all things are done and Jamie walks out, coughing, passing me his phone.

“I couldn’t get a copy, but I think photos were enough. Knew a lad.” Before I even get to properly glance at them he sends them back to me. I narrow my eyes at him.

“Isn’t mail traceable and whatnot?”

“They denied you the right to have the evidence, when you were her fiancé. If the law is on someone’s side or God, if you must, it’s yours.” He lights a cigarette, flicking through his phone. “I’m also interested in why had they cut Lana’s hair. It doesn’t make sense-”

I bite my lip.

“Some metaphor or sign, I presume.” My mania reaches out to make my vision as clear as day, sleep slipping away and I feel my body shake, scrolling through the photos of Lana’s death and how I had lifted her up, there were even close ups of my face.

“Did you do the test?”

“Excuse me?” I raise my eyes, not even realizing that I’ve been staring at Jamie’s usual suede boots which haven’t changed in the past months. Maybe they are too comfy. It’s the second pair. 

“I heard them talking what if you were delusional and killed her.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s two women, of course they’ll start thinking, it’s always like that.” He shrugs and I just look away, watching his cigarette smoke be freer than any of my thoughts would be, as we just stand still near the building, barely managing to even move anywhere, the fountain closed for winter and people seem to be closing as well. 

All seems done.

They still tell us we can bury her slowly after, when we’re all rested from the fact that she’s dead, hours later, myself on the old French couch Jamie even sleeps on at times, when he’s got a depressive episode, before she’s fully decomposed and I try one of Lana’s white dresses and once I put it on and Jamie tells me that I look great, I start hyperventilating. It feel suffocating, as I even call Jamie into the room.

I yank it off, before going to the bathroom and puking

I don’t want her out, as Jamie holds my hair back.

I want her to stay, but not like this,

not like this

I vomit again, feeling my throat tear apart and I just push the dress away with my leg.

“I think you looked great.” He tells me and I shake my head, puking again, now sitting on the cold floor, my chin trembling, scared of the simple dress. 

I have odd thoughts in my head as I glance at it again, motioning for him to take it away, all Jamie does is pick it up and throw it out of the checkered tile bathroom, as I bend over again, now hiccups reaching me, shaking, shattering me, I feel that hyperventilation may greet mania now. 

“I feel paranoid. I don’t want to wear it. I don’t want to claim something.

I don’t want to claim.”

I puke, thinking fast.

I think of the fucking granola quote.

“I feel like I’m half-made. I don’t understand so many things.” I look up at him. “You once told me I was gender defying.”

I puke.

“Maybe I am. Then that distances myself from everything I’ve said. That distances me from the myself I knew or wanted to know, believe, whatever.” He hands me tap water, I down it, feeling my stomach unease even more, but nothing goes up. “It’s not my fight, when I’m seen as a trend. I am and I am not. 

I am and I am not.” I wrap my hands around me, above my stomach.

I am nothing.

I am both.

I don’t puke.

The thoughts are sudden of realization at a time of trauma, because the mind is a time bomb.

I don’t know where I go, I just seem desperate.

Because by the end of the day we are left alone with the people who we are alone with. Lana would be one of them. But she’s gone and I don’t know where, I don’t know how and I don’t even know how to reach and the mystery makes me wonder what had happened and how do you even move on when your heart is taken?

What is the point if the only answer why you’re not suicidal on a hotline is the beloved?

How much is agreed upon us?

For some reason, I feel as if I have to prove what’s worse separation or death and I look back at Jamie, recalling our break up for some reason as he holds from smoking and sits besides me, as I keep drinking the water, feeling all my body shake from the cold shock and knowing that when you do things, your body escapes and you’re left somewhere else. I close my eyes, as if I were dreaming again, knowing of the places with streamers where I would never see her again, because all love is the same and all the confessions are the same, but I’ll never hear them again.

So the question is do I want to live with her memories with me or do I want to end myself as well and I feel his hand on my wrist. 

For some reason I remember how I had broken down when we had broken up, after all a break up seems to be more tragic than a death by psychological standarts, because Lana never refused me, just life did. My head starts spinning and I wave his hand away, my hair in front of my face as I start gasping for air.

We haven’t even looked at the evidence yet.

“Break ups make you think of gender.” My chin trembles, because dating Lana had made me close that chest for once and for all, her death opened all my darkest secrets. I look at him. “Because it makes you ponder or rather when you talk to people about it, it makes you ponder. Is it better for them or for you to come out?”

I pause, pressing myself against the wall, recalling how I get singulated as a woman in music, always. I keep talking, feeling regret be able to rewind later as places circulate in my mind with Lana, places which had gone wrong but not her. 

I straighten up, exposing my neck, before it gets closed again. Love shatters us. Not being able to hear the love.

“And is there being a point at being angry at someone who doesn’t understand?” I press my forehead against the cold tile wall, missing checkered. “What is the point if we lose touch anyway when people get angry at you for being who you are?”

I feel mute, yet speaking in front of a crowd, letting myself and my decoy anger out.

“I don’t want a conflict of the self if I don’t have one.” Everything seems to be leaving my body. I hiccup. “It’s been a while since I thought of it.”

I wonder if I should try to stand up, as I get far too fidgety from solely sitting. 

“We’ve got a cult of femininity. You can’t say you’re not a woman, because then you’re erasing the image people thought of because they looked up to someone who wasn’t female and then that makes them question themselves because they’re sure of their gender, I can’t speak for them and you’re sure about your gender so then it becomes a question for them, why were they looking up to someone who is not one?” I squeek to Jamie as he looks at me, reminiscing all our talks, making sure not to speak yet. 

Lana never knew.

I start crying.

-

I derailed as it's supposed to be far more surreal, but I'll be getting there, since I've been mostly writing more realistic stories these days and that's how my writing style has been going as well >.>

I really feel like discussing Lana's death would be me talking and spoiling things, so I'll unfortunately be silent regarding that and Jamie is pretty much like a side-kick here and helping Alison through this mentally, so yeah. I kind of always had Callie with me, so it's rather natural for me to give someone to help you through rough times in stories and yeah. I'm sorry I'm rather anxious tonight and I hope you'll like this chapter, frankly:)

I think the main emphasis goes on the fact which worried me, did I make Alison's coming out too sudden? And well, since Alison is androgynous I poked Callie as usual on it and we both frankly sat and thought that well it does come like a bang on the head and in my case, I mused on gender a lot before I fully realized who I was, so that frankly used. And it's not really the first time I've had Alison as trans, because there's obviously Stale Smoke In A Running Circle which I really miss, but I like the ambigious ending there and I dunno, I still have a headcanon that VV (I really do differentiate the current and past Alison) was androgynous, well, I think, so yeah, I kind of carry that headcanon to stories. 

There's an interview where Jamie talks how Alison once wanted to go on stage in a dress and he said she looked amazing but at the last moment she changed from it, so I kind of used that for dysphoria frankly, because there are items of clothing which scream at you and you feel uncomfortable and dysphoric in or without for that matter. 

I vomit when my anxiety reaches a very high level, so I use that in stories I guess as the anxiety peak. 

Jamie once called Alison gender-defying back in Keep on Your Mean Side. 

I think I have to say that coming out is awfully hard and I come from an unnaccepting place and I was told that being male doesn't suit me among other things, that I was erasing strong women because I am "one" so yeah, that was very hurtful and awful to hear, so me and Callie were outside and I actually started writing an angry conversation which is now what you see with Alison talking to Jamie, but it was intended for One For The Road actually, but I wasn't sure if I would make Alison androgynous there too, so I read out most of it to Callie and I derailed and I was angry and obviously had the word man in it instead of someone else, because in their eyes they shouldn't be praising and looking up to a man, because I don't match the standarts of one in their eyes. That was very hurtful and that's why I'm pushing out this chapter, because I'm tired of getting told about all this bullshit that you're erasing women by coming out as male, that then you take away the strong women, but how can you put men as women? Exactly. So I've been awfully pissed off about it, frankly.

I have many lines here and the more I go on, with all the bullshit, I usually tell it to Callie vocally even if I speak of her so often here, but she is the reason for me to exist and everything, so yeah, I'm thankful I met her so early in life, so yeah. I really speak a lot to her through prose but when it's like a backstory essay as funny as it is, it feels very public xD And I'm rather quiet about that at times, more of a keep it to the person you love, really because you're telling that to them. 

When I was studying psychology I remember I got told or taught that divorce is worse than a parent's death and I actually said that I don't agree and well, maybe it's because I had different circumstances but I wanted to bring that in, really and think on it.

The streamers and the place play a role, it's funny how specific old parts of cities seem to carry places and yeah, I wanted to keep that here and to use it for Lana and Alison here. 

I had discovered who I was properly after a break up so I used that, really

A broken heart kind of pushes you painfully forward into right directions, really.

I really spoke from the heart on the monologue. I am who I am and I hate that people loved me for someone else. I am me and I'm male, thank you very much. Fluid, though, but male.

I hope you enjoyed it and thank you, tell me if you liked it, I'm sorry I've had a rough couple of days emotionally, so yeah and sorry if I'm not very interractive, but I really appreatiate any messages, thank you

Thank you

<3

Jamie