#he was in the circus for a snap and snapped his foot at 14!

[britishchick09]

i found a new senpai pic and he's so smiley!!! :D

and the article it comes from is so long... 😅😅😅

#robert wadlow #robert wadlow trash #i'll definitely have to edit it to look shorter! ;) #but yay a new pic!! :D #and he's so happy!!! :D #very happy to be in albert lea! :D #the biggest crowd to see him up to that point! :o #edit: 'long' is now a link to the shortened version on my senpai site! ;) #and the article has a few typos! :o #it says he was never in the circus and broke his foot at 12 years old #he was in the circus for a snap and snapped his foot at 14! #and it says he spent a year at college when it was half but i'll let that slide ;) #i won't let it slide that jack earle was called jack herald for some reason?? #this article has its flaws but that pic tho!! :D

[let-this-ship-sink-already]

Tearing down the Tomdaya timeline, created by "Spidermaninlove" - Part 1 (2016)

I am not using evidence or "proof", which is OUT THERE, to show that this timeline is only based on the emotions/opinions of its creator and is therefore falsely claimed as a fact. I am using common sense to explain the dynamic between the two co-workers/friends that are Tom Holland and Zendaya.

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

***

May 29, 2016

Tom leaves London to begin filming Spider-man Homecoming.

June 2016

On June 9, 2016, Zendaya arrived in Atlanta. 

Spider-man Homecoming cast begin bonding and filming.  Bonding activities included, a “romantic picnic”, pool parties, sleepovers, watching movies, singing, dancing, outings to the aquarium and Waffle House, etc. -> Those are normal activities between people of the same age who start to bond as future co-workers. “Romantic“ as an attribute is an INTERPRETATION.

July 4, 2016

Z and Spider-man cast at Tom’s house for Haz’s birthday/July 4th celebration. -> Co-workers/friends hanging out together.

July 23, 2016

Tom, Z, and other Spider-man Homecoming cast members attend the San Diego Comic Con.  Z calls Tom “the bomb” during one of the interviews there.  Z and Tom pose for a couple cute photographs during the interviews at Comic Con.  Z snaps what appears to be the cast at a Comic Con after party. -> Co-workers promoting a movie together. „cute“ is an INTERPRETATION.

July 25, 2016

Tom, Haz, and Z in LA.  Z with Tom and Haz at an arcade (via Snapchat). -> Co-workers/friends hanging out together.

August 14, 2016

Tom and Z, along with Deja Carter, Z’s friend, dance (Typo Challenge, etc.) at Tom’s house in Atlanta. 

Tom and Z, along with Deja, are video recorded at Starbucks together. -> Co-workers/friends hanging out together.

August 16, 2016

Z wraps filming Spider-man Homecoming.  Z flies back to LA with Deja.  While leaving Atlanta, Z snaps what I believe is the first Tomdaya pout. -> The term „Tomdaya pout“ is made up by the creator and an INTERPRETATION.

September 2, 2016

After over a three-month hiatus, Tom returns to Twitter, and simply tweets “tweet”.  Fans noticed he immediately followed Z.  Doesn’t tweet again until October 6, 2016, about his return to London.  He then apparently forgets his password and with Sony’s help is back on Twitter January 5, 2017.

Analysis:  On 9/2/2016, Tom accessed “Twittah” (Twitter) only to follow Z. -> Co-workers/friends promoting a movie together. IRRELEVANT INFO.

September 19, 2016

Z in NY to film The Greatest Showman. -> IRRELEVANT INFO.

September 23, 2016

Spider-man Homecoming wraps principal filming in Atlanta.  Tom resumes filming in New York. -> IRRELEVANT INFO.

September 28, 2016

Spider-man cast, including Tom and Z, reunite at restaurant in NY. -> Co-workers/friends hanging out together.

September 29, 2016

Tom and Z attend opening night, Cirque Du Soleil, Kurios, in New York, along with Spider-man cast and members of Tom’s family.  Tom is wearing a Kizzmet necklace from Z’s Mom’s jewelry line

Update:  On September 21, 2018, Claire confirmed on her kizzmetjewelry Instagram story that she made ”Spider-man” a bloodstone necklace two years ago. -> Co-workers promoting a movie together.

October 3, 2016

Spider-man Homecoming filming wraps in Berlin. -> IRRELEVANT INFO.

October 4-5, 2016

Tom in NY for The Hollywood Reporter (THR) interview/photo shoot with Z.    

During the THR interview, Tom states that meeting Zendaya for the first time was very embarrassing for him.  He also said it wasn’t one of his smoothest moments. 

According to Seventeen reporter, Noelle Devoe "... she (Zendaya) and her co-worker (Tom) -- Tomdaya, as I've dubbed this duo -- have insane chemistry." -> Interpretation/opinion.

October 6, 2016

Tom returns to London -> IRRELEVANT INFO.

October 14, 2016

Tom returns to NY for Lost City of Z, New York Film Festival. -> IRRELEVANT INFO.

October 17, 2016

Tom, Z, and Jacob attend Z’s co-star, Veronica Dunne’s, Broadway premiere in the play Chicago. -> Co-workers/friends hanging out together.

October 18, 2016

Fan tweeted Tom Holland and Zendaya are in my work hallway. -> Co-workers/friends hanging out together if truly happened.

October 29, 2016

Tomdaya sighting at restaurant. -> Co-workers/friends hanging out together.

November 9, 2016

Tom and Z grace the cover of The Hollywood Reporter (THR).  Z’s stylist, Law Roach, styled both Z and Tom for this photo shoot.  Z also filmed the photo shoot for her App. 

@tomholland2013, IG:  Over the moon with my first cover. So grateful that I got to share it with the one and only @zendaya. Thanks mate for helping me out 👊🏻

@zendaya, IG:  Amidst all the chaos and sadness…this one good thing did happen to me today. Honored to share it with the very best…Spider-Man himself @tomholland2013🙏🏽 Thank you for this beautiful cover @THR -> All 3 paragraph: Co-workers/friends promoting a movie together.

Note:  On January 25, 2018, over one year later, Z’s interior designer posts a photo of Z’s coffee table with a copy of this edition of THR magazine on it.  Z’s Vogue cover issue was not on said coffee table. -> IRRELEVANT INFO.

November 22, 2016

Tom, Z, and Jacob visit hospital in NY, and then all three go to the circus.  Tom is wearing the red and black Tomdaya shoes. -> Co-workers promoting a movie. „Tomdaya shoes“ is an ASSUMPTION/INTERPRETATION.

Z tweeted:  I think we have worlds best real life Spider-Man… today @nyphospital with my favs @tomholland2013 @lifeisaloha -> Co-workers promoting movie together.

November 23, 2016

Tom and Z spotted coming out of her apartment building and arriving at Bang Bang Tattoo in NY.  Z is seen talking to a tattoo artist who also does Z’s mom’s tattoos.  We later learn Tom got a spider tattoo on the bottom of his foot.  Z snaps paparazzi who followed and photographed them at Bang Bang.  

Note:  Z doing her thing (damage control) with the paps. -> Co-workers/friends hanging out together. Pretending to know what Zendaya considers “damage control“ is an ASSUMPTION/INTERPRETATION.

November 24, 2016

It appears Tom was inside the private jet Z took home to LA for Thanksgiving. -> Assumption.

Thanksgiving

Tom in at least three videos at Z’s Thanksgiving bash, including a video on her App.  Tom and Z are very cozy on her sofa. -> Co-workers/friends spending time together. „Cozy on her sofa“ is an INTERPRETATION.

November 28, 2016

Tom posted on IG that he was landing in the San Francisco airport for the first time (Bay area – Z’s from Oakland).  -> IRRELEVANT INFO.

November 29, 2016

Z spotted with her mom at basketball game in NY.  Tom’s not present, but Odell is.  Z snaps meeting Odell at the game was not planned. -> IRRELEVANT INFO.

December 4, 2016

Z attends premiere of Dear Evan Hansen.  She appears to be there with The Greatest Showman co-stars.  On January 18, 2017, Z posts (IG) she is attending Dear Evan Hansen for the third time. -> IRRELEVANT INFO.

On July 6, 2017, right before Spider-man Homecoming opened in U.S. theaters, Bruce Glikas, of Dear Evan Hansen, posts a photo with Tom Holland thanking Zendaya for the nice surprise and stated he’s looking forward to watching the Spider-man movie.

Analysis:  Z took Tom to one of the Dear Evan Hansen performances she attended. -> Co-workers/friends hanging out together.

December 6, 2016

Fan tweeted she saw Tom and Z together in a room on Broadway in NY. -> Co-workers/friends hanging out together if truly happened.

December 9, 2016

Skai Jackson posted a photo with Tom on Instagram.

Caption:  Who’s ready for #spidermanhomecoming ? -> IRRELEVANT INFO.

There is absolutely nothing that links these two together besides the fact that they are co-workers and hanging out like good friends do. It's all in this person's head!

#Tomdaya #Tom holland #zendaya #spidermaninlove #Spiderman #shipping is toxic #Toxic behavior #mental health

[bangkokjacknews]

The Weekend Mystery - The Great Loch Ness Con Trick

If the Loch Ness Monster doesn’t exist, how come there have been so many pictures and sightings? And is Nessie really Nellie? The first documented sighting of a monster inhabiting Loch Ness was by Saint Columba in AD565. According to this, the Christian missionary was travelling through the Highlands when he came across a group of Picts holding a funeral by the loch. They explained that they were burying a fellow tribesman who had been out on the loch in his boat when he had been attacked by a monster. Columba immediately ordered young Lugne Mocumin, one of his own followers, to swim across the loch to retrieve the dead man’s boat. Detecting lunch was on its way again, the great beast reared up out of the water, at which Columba held up his cross and roared: ‘Thou shalt go no further, nor touch the man; go back with all speed!’ And with that, the terrified monster apparently turned tail and ‘fled more quickly than if it had been pulled back with ropes, though it had just got so near to Lugne, as he swam, that there was not more than the length of a spear-staff between the man and the beast’. The group of Picts, very impressed by all this, converted to Christianity on the spot. However, as evidence of a monster living in the loch for the last 1,500 years, this account seems about as reliable as the story of the tooth fairy. Not least because St Columba also claimed, a tad implausibly, to have had various other successful run-ins with Scottish monsters, once even slaying a wild boar just with his voice. Nevertheless, many were convinced by the Loch Ness tale. Then there was silence on the monster front until some strange sightings were reported in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. But the Loch Ness Monster, as we have come to know and love it, it wasn’t really ‘born’ until much later – not until 1933, in fact, when (prosaically enough) the A82 trunk road had finally been completed along the western shore of Loch Ness, connecting the western town of Fort William with the busy port of Inverness on the North Sea. Providing easy access for tourists and industry alike, the road also offered a route past the picturesque loch for the first time. Nearby Inverness had a long-standing and hugely popular tradition of hosting an annual circus. In 1933 Bertram Mills took his circus to Inverness along the new A82 for the first time, where his road crew would have stopped along the banks of Loch Ness to rest and feed the animals. Coincidentally that was when the sightings of the Loch Ness Monster began. Bertram Mills, ever the entrepreneur, quickly used the local story to his advantage by offering the £20,000 (nearly £2 million pounds today) to anybody who could prove that they had seen the great beast. It was a sum Mills seemed suspiciously unable to afford to pay out. But the public flocked to the area nevertheless, sightings soared and more people than ever before attended his shows in case the monster might make an appearance. But how could Mills have been so sure nobody could legitimately claim the reward? My theory is that he must have seen the famous photo of a plesiosaur-like creature taken in 1933 near Invermoriston by a Scottish surgeon and had known that it was no monster. At the time, sceptics claimed the photograph was a fake: the creature it showed must be an otter or maybe vegetation floating on the surface of the loch. It was even said to be an elaborate hoax created using a toy submarine. But Bertram Mills had seen an elephant swim before and must have realized the photograph taken was most likely of one of his animals bathing in the loch. Although the financial benefits of staying silent about this were obvious. Soon afterwards, on 14 April 1933, a Mr and Mrs Mackay claimed that they had seen a ‘large … whale-like beast’ idling in the loch and which had then dived under, causing ‘a great disturbance’ in the water. They had immediately reported the sighting to local gamekeeper Alex Campbell. Campbell, conveniently enough, also turned out to be an amateur reporter for the Inverness Courier. His embellished account of the sighting, entitled ‘Strange Spectacle on Loch Ness’, appeared on 2 May 1933 and brought him instant fame. The world’s monster hunters, not to mention the media, then descended on an remote area of the Scottish Highlands, only previously known for its fishing. The dial of Loch Ness Monster excitement was then cranked up even further by the Daily Mail, when they sent in a professional team of monster hunters headed by the wonderfully named big-game hunter Marmaduke Weatherall. The Mail ran a daily piece on his efforts to lure the monster from its lair and to bag the beast. And within just two days, the headlines announced he had found unusual footprints on the shoreline. A cast was sent to the BritishMuseum for identification and the Scots were revelling in the global attention their country was receiving. But the following week they were hanging their heads in shame when the cast proved to be the imprint of a stuffed hippopotamus foot, probably an umbrella stand from some local hostelry or tavern. Weatherall denied any mischief making and it was never proven whether it had been hunter or hoaxer who had laid the false tracks. The two most compelling photographs of the ‘monster’ are world famous. One depicts a creature with a long greyish neck that tapers into an eerie thin head rising out of the water, followed by two humps. Roy Chapman Andrews, an American explorer and director of the American Museum of Natural History upon whom Indiana Jones was based, went on record in 1935 arguing that he had seen the original picture and that it had been ‘retouched’ by newspaper artists before being published. He firmly states the original picture is of the dorsal fin of a killer whale. Most other experts disagree. As do I: to my mind, it is clearly the trunk of an elephant, with the first hump being the head and the second its back, almost certainly one of Bertram Mills’s, taken as the circus elephants swam in the loch. Hugh Gray was the photographer; ‘I immediately got my camera ready and snapped the object which was then two to three feet above the surface of the water. I did not see any head, for what I took to be the front parts were under the water, but there was considerable movement from what seemed to be the tail.’ This photograph has been declared genuine by photographic experts and shows no signs of tampering, unlike so many of the others. And that is because, in my view, it is a genuine photograph – of a genuine elephant. No retouching required.

The Surgeon's Photograph But the best-known photograph is the one taken by surgeon Robert Kenneth Wilson on 19 April 1934. Indeed it must be one of the most instantly recognizable pictures ever taken. From a distance of two hundred yards what has come to be known as the ‘Surgeon’s Photograph’ shows a grey ‘trunk’ of around four feet protruding from the water with a hump directly behind it and clear disturbance in the water around. Once developed and declared genuine, the picture was bought and published by the Daily Mail and the Loch Ness Monster industry was properly born. Curiously enough, when asked what he thought he had seen, Wilson claimed to have been too busy setting up his camera to take proper note, but thought there was certainly something strange in the loch. The next question then should have been: ‘Why didn’t you wait around for a while to see if it returned?’ because then he may well have seen the elephant surfacing, as it would have had to sooner or later. Then again, perhaps he did, but greed rather than valour influenced the better part of his discretion. As recently as March 2006, Neil Clark, curator of palaeontology at the Hunterian Museum in Glasgow, has stated (thus confirming something I have believed for many years): ‘It is quite possible that people not used to seeing a swimming elephant – the vast bulk of the animal is submerged, with only a thick trunk and a couple of humps visible – thought they saw a monster.’ Dr Clark also notes that most sightings came around the time of Bertram Mills’ reward offer for evidence of the monster. He himself believes that most other the sightings could probably be explained away by floating logs or unusual waves. More Mysterious World with Albert Jack But just as it seemed the eminent professor was about to finally blow the Loch Ness Monster out of the water, so to speak, he was asked by the BBC whether he believed there was a large creature living in the loch. To which he responded: ‘I believe there is something alive in Loch Ness.’ And he’s not wrong, is he? There must be ‘something’ alive in the loch; in fact there are lots of living things swimming around in it. But at least he didn't go on to say it was a 1,500-year-old sea monster, which it would have to be, as that is the premise upon which this whole story has been constructed. But to be fair to Dr Clark, the Loch Ness Monster is big business for Scotland. Consultants have estimated it to be worth in the region of £50 million per annum and rising. More that 500,000 tourists travel to the area every year in the hope of sighting the beast, despite Bertram Mills’ reward expiring with him. Some claim the industry has even created 2,500 new jobs. And the Monster Spotting Tour comes in at £15 a head. Dr Clark would not be popular in his home country if he finally dispelled the myth many love and even more rely upon. Since the elephant-heavy 1930s there have been dozens of sightings of objects of varying shapes and sizes. Even if paddling pachyderms are no longer the likeliest explanation, other theories are possible. Loch Ness is actually a sea lake, fed from the Moray Firth in the North Sea via the River Ness. Furthermore, the Moray Firth is one of the areas of British seawater most frequented by porpoises, dolphins and whales. Indeed seals and dolphins have been filmed in the loch many times. If the mind wants to see a monster, three partly submerged dolphins swimming in a row could easily provide the illusion of a thirty-foot, three-humped creature in the gathering gloom – especially after a few drams of the local malt. I have myself encountered a few three-humped monsters after a lively evening out before now. The BBC has used sonar and satellite imagery to scan every inch of the loch and found ‘no trace of any large animal living there’. But, as it has always been the case with myths, legends and fables, while it is possible to prove the positive by producing irrefutable evidence, it is never possible to prove the opposite argument. We could dam Loch Ness and drain it. We would then be able to take everybody still perpetuating the myth down into this vast new dry valley and show them every nook, cave and rock cluster, but still the hardcore believers would reply: ‘Ah, but Nessie may well be out in the North Sea at the moment just limbering up for another appearance.’ But of course that is not the reason at all. Everyone from Columba (who told that miraculous story, embroidered or otherwise, which led to his canonization) onwards has profited from retelling the tall tale of Loch Ness. The only surprise is that so many people have, and still do, strongly believe there is an unidentified prehistoric monster living in a Scottish loch. Some argue that is a historical fact; I know it’s just a hysterical one. I’m here to inform you, kids – there is no such thing as the Loch Ness Monster. Just don’t tell anyone it was me who told you. - Albert Jack Albert Jack AUDIOBOOKS available for download here  

  Albert Jack’s Mysterious World Buy Now Audio Books Other Platforms Assorted eBooks Read the full article

[gvbejvmesmichaels]

Drabble: Reflections - One Year Later

Title: Reflections - One Year Later Or the update/remix you asked for Rating: R for language Relationships: Gabe/Johnny, past Gabe/the Russian Warnings: None? Summary: A remixed version of Too Old to Text and Reflections. Notes: For you.

January, 2020

This was not a call he wanted to make, but he’d done everything he needed to do. He’d had papers served, and he'd gone back and forth with the lawyers -- nothing worked. And he knew what this was, what this really was. It was a fucking powerplay. He was still pissed that he’d been dumped and was purposely making Gabe’s life more annoying than it needed to be. It should have been easy - one and done. 

All he legally needed was for Gregor Rasputin to sign off on using his likeness. It was a standard contract for artists, and it was designed to protect artists from having their subjects sue for half their commission. He didn’t think that Razz would sue, but Gabe wasn’t willing to chance it, and neither was Sully, his agent. He had a show at the end of February and there were pieces he wanted to show, but he couldn’t if Razz was going to be a dick.

It was with that thought in mind that he settled in his studio and called his ex-lover (boyfriend was never a term he had used for him). The clock said 12am, which meant it was 8am for Razz. Unless the other man was determined to dodge Gabe entirely, this was his best chance to reach the other man. If he refused to sign the papers, he was going to need to rethink the entire theme of his show, and the thing was -- he didn’t want to. He had a vision and he was determined to see it come to life.

“Yashcheritsa!” Razz greeted, sounding far too pleasant for 8 in the morning, and for the fact he was on the phone with his ex. “You’re up late, no? Is Printsessa still keeping you up at odd hours?”

He closed his eyes, and pinched the bridge of his nose. This was not a game he felt like playing. “Razz.” He scolded, rolling his eyes, even though he knew the other man couldn’t see him. “I’m half-asleep as it is and I don’t have time for this. You know why I’m calling.”

The other man didn’t respond right away. Maybe he was looking for the right words; maybe his English was getting rusty. Gabe didn’t exactly care; all he wanted was to get his answer right from the source - fuck lawyers (‘aren’t you trying to?’ the Georgie voice in his head helpfully supplied). “Yashcheritsa, I don’t like the idea of pictures of me just existing for others to see.”

Gabe scrubbed a hand over his face. “It’s not like that…” He promised. “No one is going to even know that it’s you. It’s not exactly a picture of your face.”

There was a sound of surprise from the other end of the phone. “Gabrelle.” Razz sounded scandalized. “What body part will people be seeing?”

He couldn’t help the snicker that escaped. Sometimes all he could think about was the fact that he was essentially a thirteen year old boy. “Not the body part you’re thinking about.” He frowned as he thought about it for a moment. “Okay, part of the body part you’re thinking about, but not that actual body part.” 

It was quiet again, but this time Gabe knew that Razz was thinking. “This is important to you?” He finally asked.

“Very.”

Razz sighed. “I will sign tonight.” He promised.

The smile that spread across his face was genuine. “Thank you.” He said and he found that he meant it.

February 2020

Gabe paced the length of his bedroom, the dogs laying on the bed watching his movements. He was pretty sure they were waiting to see if they needed to get off the bed and follow him out of the room. Scrubbing a hand over his face, he stopped and stared down at his cell phone. “You can do this. It’s not fucking rocket science. Just stop being a pussy and do it.” He closed his eyes, the phone feeling heavy in his hands. “Fuck. Why is this so hard? It’s a text. It’s just a text.” 

He jumped as his phone went off in his hand. Had he accidentally sent a voice to text? Horrified he stared down at his phone, but it was just an incoming text from The Russian. 

Updated release signed. Sent to Sully.

It was strange to think that part of his show was so reliant on his ex-lover signing particular documents. He didn’t respond to the text message and instead stared down at his left hand or rather at the inside of his hand where there was an ugly gash running up the palm. The stitches had come out the day before, but his hand still looked nasty. Sighing again, he looked back at his cell phone and swiped away from the text from Razz. He scanned through his incoming texts. He’d been pretty shitty at replying to his texts as of late. There had just been so many coming in and he just didn’t want to deal with it.

He scanned through the texts, looking for anything to do other than the thing he’d told himself he was going to do. They were basically the same thing, but from different people.

It’s been awhile since you’ve done a show. Are you nervous? Are you sure you want to do a showing?

It was strange. How long had it been since the last time he showed? It hadn’t been that long, had it? Why was it such a big deal now? Had his show right after the divorce really been that much of a shit show?

Sighing, he scrolled past the texts until he got to the person he was looking for. His finger hovered over the name for a moment before he finally clicked on Jay, and, boy, was it fucking weird seeing his name as something other than Do Not Answer.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he tapped out a message: I have a gallery opening next week, and I’d love it if you came.

“I sound like a fucking fifteen year old girl.” He whined out as he deleted it and tapped out a different message.

My new exhibit is opening at Nik’s gallery next week. Did you want to come?

“God, this is fucking stupid. You’ve known him for like 14 years. Just send him the fucking text.” He deleted the text again, and swore under his breath. “Stop being such a fucking chicken shit.”

Next week my new exhibit opens at Nik’s gallery. Would you like to come to the opening with me?

This time he actually sent the damn text. “I still chickened out, didn’t I?” He asked the dogs. “Shit.” 

To be clear – as my date.

And then because he always seemed to freak out when it came to Johnny, as soon as he sent the text, he threw the phone onto the bed, earning yelps and growls from the dogs as it landed too close to them.

“Sorry, sorry.” He bit his lip, and closed his eyes before tilting his head up towards the ceiling. “You happy, G?” He asked as though the dead could hear him. “I did the thing. I asked my ex-husband out.” His eyes widened. “Shit, I asked my ex-husband out… What the fuck am I doing?”

Friday, February 28, Opening Day of Reflections

7am

“Gabe?” Nik’s voice echoed through the gallery. “I really hope you’re in here and someone didn’t break in.”

Using a creeper, he was laying on the floor of the gallery, installing rods to support one of his pieces.  It was an intricate installation piece and he was terrified that due to the nature of the base, the glass bits were going to weigh down the base, break, shatter all over the floor, and he was going to be a disgrace in the art world.

“I’m in the inner chamber!” He called out. When she had left the night before most of the temporary display walls he’d set up to separate the sections of his show hadn’t been completely installed yet. Now her gallery was one giant maze.

There was no response for a moment, and Gabe figured that she was trying to orient herself. “How do I get there?” She called out in response.

“What room are you in?” The thin rods were weaved inside of the base to blend in so they weren’t noticeable to the viewer. He wasn’t sure how many rods he was going to need, but he figured if he weaved in at least ten, it would be strong enough.

“I think I’m at the circus.”

Gabe groaned. “Yep, I’m changing the lighting in there. I knew the lights were too bright.” He huffed out. “Either walk past the wedding rings or come in through the back and come through the looking glass.”

It was quiet so Gabe figured she was maneuvering through the exhibits and got distracted. He went back to weaving another rod through when suddenly a hand was on his foot, and he startled so badly that he almost broke the damn thing he was trying to fix. “The fuck.” He snapped out as he was rolled out of his piece. “You break it, you buy it. And my shit isn’t cheap.”

Nik just raised an eyebrow at him. “Did you sleep at all last night or were you here the whole time?” She asked, even though he was pretty sure she knew the answer to that. 

“It just needs to be perfect.” He said as he sat up. “All my shows are personal but this one is…”

“A love letter. I know.” She told him, giving his knee a gentle pat. “Go home and sleep. I’ll fix the lighting for you.”

Gabe shook his head. “I need to get that done, and I need to put the hands in this piece and-”

Taking his hands, Nik pulled him to his feet. “I know, Gabe. I’ve seen the footprint you provided.” She said pushing him towards the back. “I have to set up for the cocktail portion of the evening, too. I’m perfectly capable of finishing the things up here. You need to sleep.”

“I still have-”

Nik shook her head. “I’ll call DJ on you.” She threatened. “Or worse. I’ll call Katie and watch her drag you home by your ear.”

Gabe groaned. “And you’ll follow my directions exactly?” And he regretted the question as soon as he saw the look on Nik’s face. “Fine, fine. I’m going, I’m going.”

9:51am

He was lying face down on his bed, George and Gulliver asleep on either side of him while Scully lay on her bed, snoozing away when his phone went off. Still more asleep than awake, he blindly reached for his phone and answered it with a tired, “Uh-llo.”

“Briel? You never responded to my text. What time am I picking you up tonight?” 

Still more asleep than anything else, he let himself drift back towards sleep. He knew that voice so it was okay to fall back asleep.  That was a good voice, a trustworthy voice. “Mmhmm.”

“Let me guess. You were up all night doing finishing touches on your show and you’re just now sleeping.” The other man theorized. He really did know Gabe well.

Gabe snuggled his face deeper into his pillow as he listened to Johnny talk. “Got kicked out.” He slurred. His whole life he’d talked in his sleep, and offered out pure gibberish in response to questions when someone woke him up. Chances were that he wouldn’t even remember this conversation. It wouldn’t be the first time he had a full conversation with Johnny and didn’t remember a single word. It probably also wouldn’t be the last time.

There was a warm laugh. “Briel, are you awake or asleep?” His ex-husband asked him, knowing very well from first hand experience what he was like when he was asleep.

“Yes. The sirens call to me to lull me back to the place of dreams.” Another laugh. “Briel, who are you on the phone with right now?”

“JJM.” He mumbled out, letting sleep wash over him, going back to his habit of referring to people by their initials. He’d done it a lot when he was younger, which was how the kids wound up with their nicknames of CJ and DJ.

There was no response at first. “Who is JJM?” And there was a strange hitch to the other man’s voice.

“Jonathan James-Michaels.” Gabe responded like it was a stupid question.

It was quiet and Gabe was almost fully asleep again before: “What time am I getting you tonight?” He asked tentatively.

“5:30.”

“At your place?”

The phone felt really heavy in his hand. He was going to be non-responsive any minute now.

“Mmhmm. GB wants to see our pretty clothes.”

He never heard Johnny’s response; he was already fully asleep again.

11:15am

Gabe’s arm was lifted and a little warm body slithered underneath before Bella put her head on the same pillow that Gabe was using. His granddaughter usually ran warm, but she was warmer than usual. 

“Old man.” Drew touched his face until his eyes opened and he was actually awake and blinking up at his oldest child. “Old man, I gotta go pick up the shit for tonight. The kid’s running a fever so I’m leaving her with you.” He kept his hand on his face until he was sure that the words made sense to him.

Yawning, Gabe sat up and laid on his back, Bella immediately readjusting and snuggling onto his side for warmth and comfort. “W’a ‘ime issit?” He asked tiredly, an arm wrapping around Bella so she wouldn’t roll off the bed. He had no idea where the dogs wandered off to.

“A little after eleven.” His son told him. “But go back to sleep. You got a couple of hours to sleep yet.” He reassured him before slipping out of the room.

“Family should respect my vampirism.” He mumbled out incoherently.

“I res-ped.” Bella agreed before they both fell back asleep.

4:45pm

“I don’t know what to wear.” Gabe whined as he ransacked through his closet. He was already fully dressed in an outfit that Juliet had both picked out and had pressed for him. The dark slacks would hit the tops of his shoes just right, and the light blue button-up fit just right. He trusted his former stepdaughter’s judgement when it came to clothes, but that didn’t stop his nerves from spiraling out of control.

“Aren’t you already dressed?” Drew asked in complete and total confusion. He and Maxxie were both in his bed with Bella. They’d been dating for a couple of months, but he wasn’t sure when he would get used to his son dating his friend. Sure, Maxxie was only a couple of years older than Drew, but it felt like his two worlds colliding; he wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

Their backs were pressed against the headboard, and Bella was strewn across their laps. She had already liked Maxxie, but now that he was dating Drew, who happened to live with them? She was constantly in a state of happiness being surrounded by the people she liked best in the world. She was still warm to the touch, but her fever wasn’t high enough to make him nervous enough to cancel. “Because you look dressed.” His son continued.

Bella blinked sleepily up at him. “GG, you look pretty.” She said before yawning and burying her face into Maxxie’s stomach.

“You’re stalling, which is totally adorable.” Maxxie chimed in. And he wasn’t sure why Maxxie was getting ready at his place instead of getting ready at his own place and picking up Drew later. All he knew was that his friend had shown up carrying a bag and wearing nothing but a silk robe. He was really hoping it wasn’t some sort of weird sex thing.

He made a face at Maxxie. “I’m not stalling. I’m just nervous about tonight.” He corrected, pulling himself away from his closet and sitting on the bed with the kids.

Drew shrugged, but it was Maxxie who spoke. “I don’t know why you’re so nervous. It’s just a date, and you guys were married for like 10 years.” He said nonchalantly. 

Gabe blinked. “I meant about the show.” He said, giving him a weird look. 

“Oh. I don’t know why you’re nervous about that part. I would be more nervous about going on a date with my ex-husband.” His son chimed in.

He groaned. “Gee, thanks for that.”

5:30pm

“Why is he picking you up so early?” Drew asked as he held onto Bella so Gabe could put medicine in the two year old’s ears. She always tended to be slightly more agreeable when her uncle was involved in her medicine-giving, but only slightly. She would have been more agreeable if Maxxie was holding her, but he’d disappeared into the furnished basement which was essentially Drew’s apartment.

Gabe shrugged. “I got a text when I was sleeping telling me he was, but apparently I was on the phone with him for five minutes when I was asleep so I probably told him to get me early.” He admitted, petting Bella’s hair to keep her from squirming too much. “I probably figured I needed a chaperone.”

His son rolled his eyes as Gabe scooped Bella out of his arms once he got the medication in her ears. “I don’t want to be your guys’ chaperone.” He practically whined out.

There was a knock on the front door, and suddenly Maxxie was standing on the stairs that led from the living room to Drew’s lair. His hair was done up in rollers, which elicited a giggle from Bella. “Your date is here!” Maxxie announced excitedly before flapping his hands in Gabe’s direction. “Go put the baby down-”

“Not a baby, Maxxie Mouse.” Bella complained.

“Of course you’re not, baby.” Maxxie soothed before turning his attention back to Gabe. “Go. He needs to see the effect of you coming down the stairs in those pants.” 

He rolled his eyes, but still did as he was told. As he set Bella down in her bed, he could hear Maxxie open the front door. “You have a party.” Bella snuggled into her bed, Scully already on the bed with her, a protective paw on Bella’s leg. “You sleep here? Or you sleep there?”

“I’m not sure yet.” Gabe admitted, thinking more about how parties tended to go with his friends, not so much about how things could go with Johnny. “But Grey is gonna spend the night here, and Kid and Abby are going to look after you both. You’re gonna be good for Abby, right?”

Bella nodded. “The best.” She promised before pointing at her cheek demandingly. “Kiss, now.”

Laughing, he pressed a kiss to her cheek before passing over her LeapPad and stepping into the hallway. He ran a hand over his slacks, making sure they were wrinkle-free and dog hair free. Unable to stall any longer, he walked down the stairs, pausing midway at the sight of Johnny standing in the living room with Maxxie and Drew. He wasn’t sure who looked more uncomfortable: Johnny or Drew.

Seeing Johnny in a suit would always make his heart skip a beat. Now he knew why Juliet was so damn determined to get him in light blue; she wanted him to match her father’s eyes. “I feel like we’re fucking going to prom.” 

Johnny’s hands were stuffed into his pockets and when he looked at Gabe, really looked at him, Gabe found that he needed to hold onto the handrail for support. “You look better than going to prom.” His ex-husband murmured out, looking uncomfortable, like he didn’t know what to say or what to do in this given situation and then… “How are you feeling? You always used to get so nervous.”

A smile slid onto his features, all previous thoughts immediately dismissed. Years later and the other man still knew him better than anyone else in the world. “I still do.” He looked down at his feet, once again feeling like a teenage girl about to go to Prom with the Quarterback. Hearing Maxxie clear his throat was what prompted him to continue down the stairs and to his date. “I’m feeling a lot calmer now.”

7:00pm

They’re sitting in the car outside of the gallery, and it’s taking everything in Gabe to not run away. This was probably the most nervous he’d been for a show in a very long time. When he first got out of prison, he’d opened every emotion he’d ever felt for other people to see, but lately he hadn’t been as raw, as open, as intimate with his art as he was in the beginning of his career. Hell, this is probably the most intimate and public he’d ever been.

“You’re terrified of what everyone’s going to think.” Johnny told him, staring out at the gallery, instead of looking over at Gabe. “What’s so different about this one?”

He ran a hand over his mouth as he thought about an answer that wouldn’t ruin the truth of what Johnny was about to walk into. When it came to his shows, Gabe liked to generally keep Johnny in the dark. His reactions to Gabe’s work was always one of the rare times where his features weren’t schooled, when his emotions showed all over his face. Those were his favorite reactions. “It’s more personal than usual.” He finally admitted. “My heart is spread out there on the walls. Every ounce of it.” 

“You’ve gone through a lot. You used to tell me that’s what made the best pieces.” His ex laid his hand over Gabe’s and gave it a squeeze. His hand lingered over Gabe’s for a couple of extra moments, and Gabe wanted to grab his hand back when he pulled away. “I’ve wanted to ask how you are after… everything. After coming back from Russia, after everything that’s been happening with Connie, but I’m guessing I’ll get my answer in there.”

Gabe couldn’t help but to close his eyes, his hand already feeling cold. “I’m… probably less broken up than I’m supposed to be. It’s not really anything to do with Connie in there. There’s a bit about him, but he’s not exactly the focal point of my show.” He swallowed and glanced over at Johnny, chewing on his lip as he did so. “There’s stuff about you in there.”

The other man swallowed and then took a deep breath before making eye contact with Gabe. “Whatever it is, I’m not going to be upset.” He promised. “Unless it’s my ass again.” 

Gabe’s laughter filled the car.

7:15pm

The nerves returned as Gabe and Johnny stepped into the gallery. These were his familiar pre-show jitters. The ideas he had in his head didn’t always translate to other people, which was the risk that came from being an artist. Opening night meant translating his mind onto a canvas of some kind. Not everyone would understand his vision, which was so fucking nerve-wracking. Taking a deep breath, he took Johnny’s hand and they walked into the gallery.

He’d taken over the entire gallery, something that Gabe was incredibly grateful to Nik for allowing. She said it helped her more than it helped him, but he was still grateful for her and everything she’d done for him. As soon as anyone walked through the front door, they were greeted by a white display wall. Mounted on the wall were 15 mirrors, each surrounded by iridescent painted metal, surrounding the varying sized round mirrors like a cage. A 6”x6” sign was on the far right corner: Inside the Mirror, 2019, metal on mirrored glass. Gabe watched as Johnny detached his hand from his and wandered along the path, his fingers hovering over the caged mirrors, as though he was doing his best not to touch them.

Inside the Mirror was the beginning of the little maze that Gabe had created. If the person walked to the left, they were led to a small room. One side of the room had a white wall with lights playing against it that made it look like it was snowing. The whole room actually was designed to mimic a frigid cold environment. Everything was stark white and silver. It didn’t look sterile so much as it looked as though it should be below zero.

In front of the white wall was a half-wall of blown glass onion domes, backlit by lights. It was supposed to mimic how Gabe had felt when he was walking down the streets of Saint Petersburg, alone with a toddler. A 6”x6” sign was on the far left corner: Candied Onions, 2020, glass. 

It didn’t look like they were at the circus any more. Nik had shifted the lights down so the room was bathed in what Gabe would only describe as stained glass magic. It almost felt like the cold sun was shining through the glass, and not like a clown was going to jump out from around the corner any minute.

On the display wall opposite the glass wall of onion domes, there were three paintings. The first painting was mascara painted on a faded out mirror.  The was a 6”x6” sign to the right of the painting: Homo/Hetero, 2019, glass.

It was a man’s muscular leg and thigh, as seen from profile. Instead of being biologically correct, where his dick should have been was a shredded Pride flag. Nerves ran up his spine as he watched Johnny study his piece, but he didn’t stay at that one for very long before moving onto the next piece. 

The sign to the right of this one read: Iced Out, 2020, canvas. There were two families drawn in charcoal on canvas. One family was the outline of a father holding his daughter. Their bodies were painted out in watercolor earth tones. The father was holding the hand of another man, and this man’s outline was painted out in cool tones. The side closest to the father was a light blue that turned into an icier blue, which turned to look like ice as he got further away from the father. Next to that man was a man and woman painted to look like Matryoshka dolls.

The third painting was on what used to be someone’s oak dinner table. A hundred different wedding rings were painted out in melted chrome. Some were embedded deeply into the wood, while other ones were just barely on the surface. This one had taken months to get right. The sign for this one read: Wooden Rings, 2019. Of all the pieces in this room, this piece was the one that had Johnny’s attention. He stood in front of it for what felt like a long time, his fingers tracing over the rings. Sometimes Johnny was worse than the kids when it came to his work; he needed to be reminded to touch with his eyes. Something about seeing him with this piece though… He didn’t have the heart to tell him not to touch.

“There’s more.” Gabe murmured out, not wanting to speak too loudly in the quiet atmosphere he’d created. “This room leads to a bigger room, but I don’t want you to see the middle room yet. I need you to go back the other way.” 

He didn’t know how to explain it, but Johnny didn’t look like he was listening to Gabe, like he was in the current moment. It was like he was hypnotized by Gabe’s work, which left him very proud. “Why?” The other man finally told him, even as he was wandering back the way they had just come. “Stop worrying.”

The room to the right was laid out similarly to the left room. Instead of onion domes, there was a wall of blue ocean waves made out of blown glass, back lit the same as the other room. The sign for this one read: Cool Blue, 2020, glass. As an opposition to the piece in the other room, this one made the person feel like they were standing in water, like it was lapping gently at your feet. This room also felt warmer than the other room had. Winter vs Summer.

Seeing Johnny standing in the middle of this room made his stomach do little flip flops. The lighting brought out the blue in his eyes just right, which almost took Gabe’s breath away. God, that man was gorgeous.

On the opposite wall, there were three paintings, same as the other room. The first painting motor oil painted on a sheet of translucent blue glass. There were strong thighs, like the other room, but this was painted as a front view. This time, however, the space where the dick should have been was blank. It was an optical illusion making it appear as though the viewer was giving head. Seeing Johnny stand in front of it, gave Gabe a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach. It just looked… weird seeing him standing like that in front of his own legs. The small sign next to it read: Masculine Vulnerability, 2018, glass.

Thankfully Johnny didn’t stand in front of it for very long before moving onto the next painting. If Gabe was totally honest, this painting was probably his favorite of all the paintings he had on display. The plaque for this one read: Ocean Dreams, 2019, canvas. For once one of his paintings was actually on a traditional canvas. It was layer after layer of blue and white paint, giving an ocean effect. In the beginning he hadn’t actually known what he was doing, but when he realized what effect the layers of paint had, he kept going. It turned out quite good, if you were to ask him. Johnny’s fingers hovered over it, like he wanted to touch, but he behaved himself this time.

The third painting was done on an old wooden glass window with four panes. He’d acquired it last year during one of his wandering through antique shop adventures, but he’d been hanging onto it for months, not sure what to do with it. A few weeks ago it had hit him, and he’d worked on it feverishly until it turned into what his mind had wanted.  In each pane was hand drawn burned out divorce papers. He’d painted carefully onto the backside of the glass so that if someone touched the front, the paint wouldn’t smear or flake. The sign for this one read: Burning Regret, 2020, glass.

Johnny stood in front of this one for a very long time, and when the meaning behind this piece, behind the show hit him, it was like watching a light bulb go off over the other man’s head. “I…” He watched his ex-husband swallow. “What’s next?”

It took Gabe a stupidly long moment to realize that they were holding hands again. When had that happened? The only place left to go was the room in the middle - to the piece that Gabe had been working on in the morning. To be fair, there were three pieces in there, but Gabe was only really worried about one of them. “You can’t touch the piece in there.” He reminded Johnny, knowing the other man too well. “You’ll know the one I’m talking about when you see it.” He whispered out. “I didn’t do a weight test on it yet. Eventually it’s going to be interactive, but I wanted it to be ready for this show. There’s a lot of starch, and glue, and magic holding it up.” He gave his ex’s hand a squeeze. “You go in first.” 

The first piece in the room was his latest piece in the Mythology of Muse series, Hades & Persephone. It was glass painted into wood. Like all of the pieces in this series, the subjects were seen from behind, and they weren’t wearing any clothing. This time it was two men, seen only from behind from the waist up. They’re holding hands, but their hands are burnt. One man was made to look like fire and ash while the other man was made to look like water with water lilies. The men balance each other out: fire and water, seemingly very different but necessary to the other to stay in check. Their bodies are tilted away from each other, but their heads are bent towards each other. 

Johnny stood in front of this piece for a very long time, and Gabe couldn’t help but to find himself wondering if Johnny understood what he was trying to say. As much as he loved his ex-husband, the man could be incredibly dense when Gabe’s art was about him. He never seemed to understand why Gabe found him so fascinating and why he was constantly a feature in his art. He hoped this time, he’d get it. Gabe thought it was pretty clear what the painting signified, but he was also the person who made it, so what did he know? 

The next piece in the room was a last minute addition. This was the piece he’d been obsessed with and made in the last week. He’d had inspiration after a conversation with Johnny and hadn’t been able to get the imagery they’d created during that conversation out of his head. It had been a couple of weeks ago, and Gabe had broken a mug. They’d stood in the kitchen of a house they’d designed together, but now belonged to Johnny. Blood had been pouring freely from Gabe’s hand while Johnny had stood between his legs, a cloth in hand as he tried to stop the bleeding. 

The sheer imagery of that moment, nothing longer than a few minutes, had bounced around Gabe’s head for days before he finally figured out a way to bring it to life. It had been his obsession this whole week. This was the piece Gabe had been the most nervous about. Every ounce of who he was and what he wanted to tell Johnny was poured out into this piece. 

It was an art installation piece, and there was a small stand with the plaque displaying the name: String of Fate, 2020, sculpture. It was a sculpture of two hands made out of glass, and it looked as though they were balancing on nothing but red string. 

One hand was made out of white glass and the other hand was made of black glass. The black hand was holding the white hand, forming imagery of yin and yang. It went along with his theme of two things balancing each other out. The white hand had a cut in the middle and red string poured out of it like blood. The string wrapped around both hands and the string twisted around and around in circles forming a stand that held the two hands up. The metal rods he’d been weaving into the string that morning seemed to be holding all right, which sent a wave of relief over him.

Unlike his other pieces, Johnny barely looked at this one before he was turning away from it. For a moment Gabe was terrified that the other man hated it, but then he saw his face. His face was flushed and tears were on his face. Before Gabe could process what was happening, Johnny’s hands were on his face and he was kissing him.

It was like coming home after a long time. The nerves were melting away. They still had a ton of shit to talk about and work through, but all that mattered in the given moment was that Johnny was kissing him. 

When Johnny pulled away, all Gabe could think to do was wipe the wetness away from his ex-husband’s face as the other man gently cupped Gabe’s jaw. “This is my love letter to you.” Gabe managed out when he was able to say words again. “I take it that you like it?” 

Johnny laughed. “Yes, I love it.” And his lips were on his again. “I love it.” He repeated, his hands moving to straighten Gabe’s shirt. “And everyone else will, too, but not as much as I do.” 

And that was all Gabe needed to hear for the stupid smile to slid onto his features. That was the only critic that Gabe ever cared about anyway.

“There’s another piece.” He murmured out, glancing back at Through the Looking Glass, an interactive piece that guests needed to literally walk through to get to the party in the other part of the gallery.

His ex nodded, and tugged Gabe against him. Suddenly Gabe forgot what they were talking about. 

9:30pm

The party was in full swing, and Gabe had long since been separated from Johnny. That wasn’t to say that he didn’t know where the other man was; he’d been able to catch his eyes from across the room all night. No, now came Gabe’s least favorite part, where he was being passed around from person to person. Weirdly enough, it reminded him of prison - that feeling of too many people in too small of a space. 

“Gabriel,” The art critic from the Times brought Gabe back into the present. “There seems to be an ongoing theme of duality in your pieces this evening. Is there a reason why you chose to call this show Reflections?”

He took a sip of champagne, if only to buy himself some additional time to think of his response. Why did these guys always assume that he had some sort of hidden meaning and philosophy behind his work? Thankfully over the years, he’d mostly gotten good at throwing random shit out there that the reporters tended to buy. 

“The duality theme is in reference to me and my exploration of who I am and what I wanted out of life. In general, every piece is a study of my own self-reflection. The past two and a half years have been about me figuring out who I am, what I want, and where my heart lies. Sure, there are mirrors. I’ve always enjoyed using mirrors as a canvas, but really all of this is a reflection of who I’ve become as a person.” And Jesus fuck. He needed to stop drinking soon. He always waxed poetic when he was buzzed and drunk.

The art critic ate up Gabe’s words and Gabe glanced around to see where Johnny had wandered off to. However, the next question had Gabe’s head whipping back to the critic. “Your break-up with D.A. Michaels was pretty public. Divorce tends to be messy when both parties are in the limelight. The political world and the art world are two very different scenes, but it was a pretty public breakup by New York standards nonetheless.”

Gabe didn’t know where the reporter was going with this, but he found himself finishing his drink and nodding anyway. “Yes, but we handled it maturely.” If anyone called one party losing himself in bottles and going to Hawaii with his legal secretary while the other got very very high at an artist’s retreat and then burning pictures from said Hawaii trip mature.

“I can see that.” The reporter said slowly, and Gabe just knew he was going to hate the next words out of the other man’s mouth. “Does your ex-husband usually come to all your shows? Or only when they’re about him?”

And suddenly Gabe wished he hadn’t finished his drink. What was it that Johnny had said when Juliet found him and Johnny kissing near String of Fate earlier and wanted to know what that made them? “I won’t be answering any questions about Jay- D.A. Michaels at this time.”

10:15pm

“OLD MAN!” Drew crashed into him, his brown hair smacking Gabe in the face. His arms looped around his neck, and Maxxie was staggering right behind him. Yep, someone had definitely been dipping into the free booze. Connie trailed behind them, which was a shock. Usually she wanted nothing to do with him and his art, but maybe she was sober and playing nice. Or maybe Drew had asked her to come because he knew how much it would mean to Gabe for both his children to be at his opening night. 

“There you are!” Drew announced. “I can’t believe you made all that stuff!” He leaned into him, and Gabe just laughed and gave his son a hug. “It’s so shiny!” 

“I think someone should be cutting you off soon.” He said with a laugh before turning his attention over to his daughter. To be fair, he wasn’t sure what his daughter was going to think about this show. “What did you think of the show?”

Connie shrugged and he realized now just how uncomfortable she looked. “You being good at art had never been your problem. You prioritizing your relationships and your art over us and mom was your problem.” She snapped out.

Her words made Gabe’s stomach turn, and he took a gulp of his fresh glass of champagne, watching as Maxxie and Drew wandered off. Being left alone with his daughter wasn’t exactly comfortable.

“Are you really getting back together with him?” And Gabe must have made a face because his daughter rolled her eyes. “You’re not a subtle person. Besides, I saw you guys holding hands earlier. You have a weird thing about holding hands. What was it that you told me once? It’s one of the most intimate things two people can do?” 

Gabe found himself blushing, but he didn’t break eye contact with his daughter. “It’s like someone pressed pause on an old cassette tape. It’s a little warped, but it still picks up where it left off.” He told her, his gaze searching across the room to find Johnny again. “Excuse me. You should probably keep an eye on your brother anyway.”

10:30pm

His back was pressed against one of the walls in the gallery, the light from the ocean room the only light. All he knew was that it was dark enough in the room that no one would find them, unless they were really looking for them. There were lips on his neck, a leg wedged between his, and a hand on his hip. For his part, he had one arm wrapped around Johnny’s neck and the other one on his ass.

“Think anyone will notice if we run away?” And at this point he’d had too many glasses of champagne and just wanted to be away from all the people.  

His ex was saying something, but Gabe wasn’t paying that much attention since he was kissing him, pulling back only to say one word before kissing him again. He was in sensory overload. All he could smell was Johnny, all he could feel was Johnny, and all he could taste was Johnny. In the back of his mind, he found himself wondering if he could taste the half a pack of cigarettes he’d smoked prior to Johnny picking him up. 

“Come home.” And Johnny wasn’t kissing him any more, but they were sharing the same air. They were so close that all Gabe needed to do was tilt his head up just right to kiss him again. The other man’s words caught Gabe off-guard. Home. That was such a foreign concept to him at this point. It was strange to think that after these years, Johnny still thought of the house as theirs. “Just for tonight, just so I can keep kissing you. Say yes and I’ll stop dragging you away from your party.”

Maybe it was the emotions of the day, or maybe it was the alcohol, but Gabe couldn’t imagine giving him any other answer than the word that poured easily out of his lips. “Okay.” And his mouth was on his again. “Okay.”

11:05pm

“Seriously?” Juliet groaned as she got a good look at Gabe who’d slipped out of the back part of the gallery before Johnny did. “What are you guys? Teenagers?” She wasn’t faring any better than Drew and Maxxie in terms of dipping into the free booze and her shoes were long since abandoned somewhere. “Can’t take you anywhere.”

Her hands straightened out Gabe’s shirt. “I really don’t want to know what you guys were doing in there.” She murmured out before trying to tuck the tail of Gabe’s shirt back in. “But you have a hickey on your neck.”

“I do not.” He said with a half laugh, twisting his head to see if he could see what she was talking about. There was a small flash of purple, and he groaned. “Okay, I do. I’m going to kill him.”

Juliet laughed. “It’s good to see you happy, Papa Bear.” She said, hugging him tightly. “Both of you.”

He sighed. “Jules, we still have a lot to work through.” He tried to tell her, but his step-daughter just laughed and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll check on your dogs tomorrow.”

“That’s awfully presumptuous of you.” He called after her as she moved through the crowd of people for another drink. “And I’m already paying people to do that!”

1:38am

Stumbling into the bedroom, he toed his shoes off and dropped his jacket on the floor before flopping face-first, ass-up onto the bed. Johnny had taken Felony outside, and between the booze and his weird-ass pre-show sleep schedule, he was fucking exhausted. Blindly he reached out for Johnny’s pillow and buried his face into the fabric, inhaling the familiar and comforting scent. He was halfway asleep when the bed dipped and there were hands on his hips. 

“Take your pants off before you fall asleep, Briel.” He was being manhandled onto his back, and if it was anyone else, Gabe probably would have fought them on it, but it was Johnny and he trusted him. Johnny straddled his legs and unbuttoned his pants for him as Gabe laid there, watching him. “Really? You’re not going to help me at all?”

Gabe shook his head, sliding his hands to Johnny’s ass and pulling him down on top of him. “Uh uh.” He said, hugging his ex to him, nuzzling at his neck. “Shouldn’t have drank so much. Wasted a good opportunity.” He slid his hands under the back of Johnny’s shirt to pull him closer to him.

“This isn’t the last time you’re sleeping here.” Johnny said with a laugh before freezing and pulling back to look at Gabe. “It isn’t, right?”

Gabe rolled them over so he was straddling Johnny’s stomach. “Not even close to the last time.” He murmured out before kissing him. 

They were both too buzzed for it to lead anywhere else, but if there was one thing Gabe had always liked, it was kissing Johnny.

4:45am 

“Briel.” The bed dipped and Felony yelped from where she had been curled up next to Gabe’s hip as he slept. She jumped off the bed at the intrusion and wandered out of the room. 

“The rabbits have escaped the compound, babe. I need to find them.” He mumbled out, trying to stay asleep. “I can’t go to school yet.”

Laughing, Johnny pushed him into a sitting position, despite Gabe’s groans of protest. “Wake up.” He slid behind Gabe, leaning against the headboard and pulling Gabe against his chest. Kissing the side of Gabe’s jaw, he smacked his thigh with a newspaper. “I have today’s Times.” 

Now Gabe was awake. “I don’t want to read it.” He whined out, burying his face against Johnny’s chest. “I don’t want to know what he thinks of the show. He hated it. I’m sure he hated it.”

Ignoring him, Johnny flipped through the paper until he found the section he was looking for, and then pulled Arts and Design out so both he and Gabe could see the article. “It’s tradition.” He said, which was why he had a paper copy and not a digital copy. “Now shush and let me read to you.”

Unable to look at the page himself, he closed his eyes and let Johnny read the article to him. “The Duality of Reflection: GRT Gallery reopens with the hottest show in town.” Johnny nudged him. “That doesn’t sound bad so far.”

Gabe groaned, and opened his eyes. “Keep reading.” He whined out.

“There’s a sense of quiet upon walking into the GRT Gallery. The gallery has been sectioned off into four main rooms, which is Gabriel James’ style - transporting the viewer into the dreamscape that is his mind. The lighting is low lit, forcing calm over anyone who enters the gallery.

“The first room is nothing but a white wall with a series of mirrors mounted onto it. The mirrors set the stage for the other rooms in the show. It’s at this point where the guest gets to choose their own path. If they venture off to the left, they find themselves in a Russian themed room. Despite the harsh white lighting in the room, James’ signature style is more than evident in each piece, including his habit of sprinkling vulgarity and crudeness into his pieces.”

“Ugh.” Gabe rolled his eyes. “Ever since the penis tree, suddenly my style is vulgar.” He whined out.

Johnny laughed, the sound and motion making Gabe’s body vibrate. “Briel, you have a painting in this show that make it look like people are rounding third.” He pointed out, and Gabe didn’t have to turn around to know that the other man was smirking at him. “Anyway, where was I?”

“I have a vulgar style.” Gabe prompted, settling back against his ex again.

There was a kiss pressed against his shoulder before the reading continued. “According to James,” there was a nudge at his side as though to point out that the critic was now quoting him. “‘I was in a strange state of mind after moving back home from an extended stay in Russia. There was something cold about living there, and I’m not just talking about the snow.’”

Johnny laughed. “How drunk were you when they finally found you?” He asked, the paper shaking in his hands.

Gabe flipped him off. “Do I need to take over reading or are you going to do it?” He asked, half-turning his head to look at Johnny.

“If the guest goes to the right, they find themselves in a blue-themed room. Everything is soft and cast in shades of light blue. In spite of the soft colors, it’s very obvious that this room represents masculinity. The pieces in this room all have a theme, the jewel of this room being the overly textured Ocean Dreams.”

The sound that escaped Gabe’s mouth wasn’t entirely human. “Overly textured???? It’s just the right amount of fucking texture.” He hissed out, but Johnny ignored him and kept on reading.

“The pieces in the main room are the reasons for coming to see Reflections. ‘The middle room is the equivalent to my soul.’ James said in explanation to why the most striking pieces are the ones tucked away in the middle of the show. ‘These pieces are the most personal pieces I’ve ever created. As much as I overshare when it comes to my personal life, I like to keep some emotions bottled up and hidden. I finally came to a point in my life where I realized how stupid that was. I’m not ashamed of how I feel, and I need to share my feelings with the world.’”

Johnny stopped reading for a moment, and Gabe turned his head up to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Keep reading.” He breathed out. “I need to know what he thinks of the other pieces.”

“The latest installation in the Mythology of Muse series is by far James’ best work in the series. The only other piece in the series that features a portrayal of James himself is Apollo & Artemis. James has said in interviews before that he doesn’t like including himself in his art so when he does, the pieces carry a deeper meaning than the ones without him in it. There’s a sense of awe that comes from seeing an artist included in their art - especially an artist like Gabriel James.”

Gabe closed his eyes, not wanting to see the paper any more. “I don’t want to know what he thinks about String of Fate. You liked it; that’s enough. I don’t need to know.” He said, almost nonsensically. 

Another kiss on his shoulder. “Yes, you do.” Johnny said before straightening the paper out again. “If you need one reason to see Reflections, go only to see String of Fate. Though all the pieces in Reflections are well-thought out and beautiful in their own right, String of Fate is James’ masterpiece. When art historians talk about James in the future, String of Fate will be the piece most associated with James. This will be the piece art students study.”

He couldn’t breathe. His eyes were open again, and somehow Gabe’s hands were clinging to Johnny’s arms. When had he even grabbed his arms?

“Reflections will be on display through the end of March at the GRT Gallery. Can’t make it before April? Don’t worry. String of Fate and Hades & Persephone will be on display at the Metropolitan Museum of Art where Gabriel James will be the artist in residence throughout the summer season.”

Johnny hit Gabriel with the paper. “You didn’t tell me you were going to be at the MET this summer!” He accused.

Shaking his head, Gabe turned his head to look at Johnny. “I didn’t know.” He breathed out, looking at him in complete surprise. “Pants!” He scrambled out of the bed. “Where are my pants at?”

“The hamper.” His ex told him, before flushing as he realized what a married thing that had been to do. Gabe didn’t live there any more, but it seemed like Johnny had forgotten when he’d tossed both their pants in there. The simple gesture shouldn’t have made a grin appear on Gabe’s features, but it did none-the-less. “But I put your phone and wallet on the dresser where you usually, uh, used to put it.”

With shaking hands, Gabe unlocked his phone and scrolled through his texts, looking for the one from his agent, Sully. It felt like the air had been punched out of him as he read the text out loud. “Congratulations, G! We’ve gotten more than a dozen offers on your pieces, and a few museums that would like to purchase the rights to Ocean Dreams and Iced Out for both display purposes and to print reprints for sale. We also received a generous offer from the MET for Artist in Residence. I know how you feel about the MET and your relationship with them so I told them yes, pending a contract review. I know you’re probably celebrating so I’ll call you on Monday. Congrats, again!”

He set the phone back down on the dresser and in a daze walked back over to the bed. “I… they… I…” Once again he was experiencing sensory overload. Not knowing how to form words, he instead crawled onto Johnny’s lap, straddling his thighs. Only knowing one way to express the sheer amount of emotions that were washing over him right now, he pressed his lips against Johnny’s, kissing him as hard as he could until he couldn’t breathe any more. Then he buried his face into the crook of his neck as he struggled to catch his breath. And was he crying? Fuck, he was crying. 

“I told you they were going to love it.” His ex-husband soothed, his hands trailing gently up and down Gabe’s back. “Not as much as I did, but I told you they were going to love it.”

He nodded against the other man’s neck, still unable to talk. Maybe it was the sheer amount of emotions put into the show, or from the stress of reading the review, or the lack of normal sleep he’d gotten over the past couple of days, but within minutes he was asleep, still clinging to his ex-husband like he was the only thing keeping him anchored to the world. And maybe in this current moment in time, he was.

[ntrending]

Throwing knives is growing more popular—here's how to get started

New Post has been published on https://nexcraft.co/throwing-knives-is-growing-more-popular-heres-how-to-get-started/

Throwing knives is growing more popular—here's how to get started

When you picture a sporty hobby, your mind probably doesn’t jump to knife throwing. This practice is more likely to conjure up images of circus performers or old-timey Wild West shows. But that could be changing.

“Knife throwing as a sport has grown exponentially in popularity in the last 10 years,” says performer and professional knife thrower Caleb McEwen. It used to be difficult to find information about weird sports and unusual hobbies, he explains. But the internet gives us access to information on the most arcane subjects. On YouTube, anyone can watch artists like McEwen and his three-man act, The Danger Committee, which has appeared on television shows such as America’s Got Talent.

The Danger Committee performs at the Louie Anderson Theater in Las Vegas

Despite the seeming danger, hurling blades through the air could appeal to anyone. “At first, people say throwing knives sounds crazy and dangerous, and it actually scares them,” says McEwen. “But if I have them do it a few times, they say ‘this is great!’ Then they want to know where to get knives and how to build a target.”

That’s pretty much what happened to me. I like the feel of the 14-inch-long carbon-steel knife in my hand. I enjoy squaring up to the wooden target, taking a breath, extending my arm sharply, and letting the blade fly. Off it goes, turning exactly one and a half times on its way toward the red circle in the center. Then, with a solid thunk, it sticks.

In the old days, those who hurled steel usually did so out of boredom. Instead of investing in purpose-built projectiles, they used whatever was to hand, such as kitchen or hunting knives.

Perhaps the first blade to actually work well while airborne was the famous Bowie knife, reportedly invented by fighter and frontiersman Jim Bowie and his brother Rezin. This long-bladed, all-purpose knife has a solid hilt and handle guard, and if you take the time to practice with it, it flies through the air pretty well. Contemporary images from the Civil War show troops tossing Bowie knives at targets for sport.

However, around the turn of the 19th century, knife throwers acquired a sinister image. Maybe, the popular culture of that time suggested, people who are good at sending sharp objects hurtling into targets might be, well, a little off. Hollywood immortalized this bad reputation by casting steel throwers as villains in movies like The Unknown (1927), Mad Love (1935), Santa Sangre (1989), and Gangs of New York (2002).

But here’s the thing: This bad rap is unearned. When I throw knives, I don’t put anyone in danger, but I do find it exhilarating. This hobby appeals less to my dark side—and more to my interest in physics.

The science of throwing

Like darts, the goal in knife throwing is to hit a target. However, knives do not travel through the air point first, maintaining an arrow-like trajectory. Instead, for the vast majority of throwers, the physics involved includes both lateral movement and rotation as the knife circles around its center of gravity on the way to the target.

The secret is to be consistent. The knife thrower must release the knife in exactly the same way and at exactly the same position each and every time.

On top of that, you need to carefully choose the distance between the release point and the target face. The right length will result in a stick, so you need to throw from that point each time.

How do you find that distance? The math involved is simple: If the thrower holds the knife by the handle, it needs room to make one complete revolution (or an exact multiple of that length). If held by the blade, the knife must complete a half rotation, one and half rotations, and so on.

If you want to delve deeper, then the physics and human kinesiology behind the act become a tad more involved. It starts with the arm-shoulder movement of the thrower, which traces out a circular path around the shoulder joint. During this act, while the knife is in the thrower’s hand, the knife’s main axis continually changes the angle it makes with the ground; much like the second hand of a watch (only much faster). Physicists call this constantly-changing angle, as measured per unit of time, angular velocity.

Once the knife leaves the thrower’s hand, it moves forward through the air while continuing to rotate around its center of gravity. On a typical a throwing tool, the center of gravity sits halfway between the end of the handle and the blade tip. Both ends of a balanced knife will trace out equal circles as it flies through the air. If the knife is unbalanced—that is, the center of gravity is located closer to one end or the other—then the trajectory will be less predictable, which makes it harder (but not impossible) to throw accurately.

As the knife flies, its angular velocity neither speeds up nor slows down. Instead, the blade simply continues to rotate around its center of gravity at a constant speed until it hits whatever it was thrown at. If the knife point is aiming forward at the moment of target impact, the blade sticks in the target. Otherwise, it bounces off.

With this scientific foundation, it’s easy to see that once a thrower learns to throw consistently at one distance, he or she can move forward or backward at discrete, one-revolution distances and still make the knife stick.

What you need

As in golf, tennis, and bicycling, the equipment makes a tremendous difference. At the moment of impact, if the knife’s sharp tip faces forward, you get that satisfying thunk. But if the handle or side hits the target, the knife bounces back and falls to the ground with a sad thud. To maximize thunks and minimize thuds, you need a well-balanced weapon with a durable, edge-holding tip, as well as a specially constructed target.

A purpose-built throwing knife typically measures between 12 and 15 inches long and weighs between 12 and 20 ounces. (Shorter, lighter knives are difficult to grip and don’t have enough mass to stick easily; longer, heavier knives require more muscle power than most people can easily muster.) Its particular length, weight, and balance allow you to throw it consistently and accurately.

This means it’s important to choose a good throwing knife of the correct size and weight. You might start with a medium-size, purpose-made throwing knife from a reputable company. I like the Cold Steel Pro Balance Thrower, which costs $35. Good-quality throwing knives are forged from heat-treated alloy steel, and they can last a lifetime.

To improve your odds of landing shots, you should take care when creating the target. I recommend that you build one from a soft wood like pine, with the grain running vertically to permit easier sticking. Don’t use a tree—repeated knife wounds can kill it.

Instead, you might lay ¾-inch-thick planks side by side, mount them on a large 4- by 8-foot sheet of plywood, and then mark your target with five concentric circles. You can also try a more involved method. Once you have it, many experienced throwers leave their targets out in the rain—they say the soaking softens the wood and provides a better stick.

Speaking of targets, their placement is very important. Find an open area where you can see at least 30 feet in all directions, or set your target against a long continuous wall with no doors and windows. Then secure the area to keep people or pets from accidentally getting in the way of a flying knife.

Since missing the target will cause your knife to hit the ground, a hard surface will be hard on your knife. Instead, throw on grass, and keep the growth short. That way, if the knife falls and buries itself in the dirt, you’ll be able to find it easily.

How to get started

As a skill, knife throwing is not particularly difficult to learn, although attaining any real degree of competence requires a fair amount of practice. As the late Harry K. McEvoy wrote in Knife Throwing: A Practical Guide, if newcomers have enough coordination to pitch a baseball or crack a whip, they can learn to throw a knife correctly.

Here’s a basic outline of the steps.

Raise your arm over your head with your elbow slightly bent.

Swing your arm, from the shoulder, forward and downward.

Let go with your hand pointed forward, opening your hand to release the knife without snapping your wrist.

After the release, follow through with your arm.

Remember, the key is to be very consistent. The knife thrower must release the blade in exactly the same way and at exactly the same position every time. Once you determine the distance (between the release point and the target face) that results in a stick, make sure to toss from that distance each time.

Watching a few videos produced by experts can help. For example, check out this guide by YouTuber shaykai (we linked to a couple of his other videos earlier in this story).

Although this technique is helpful, you can adjust it to suit your own style. There’s no hard and fast method, and there’s just one rule: Be safe. Here are a few tips to protect yourself and others.

Throw only in areas suitable for knife throwing. Again, check the information about placing a target in a suitable location.

Use knives specially made for throwing. Typically the blade is dull so it won’t cut your hand, and the tip is sharp to stick in the target.

Inspect the knife frequently to make sure it is in good shape. If you notice a flaw, make repairs promptly. For example, keep that tip sharp.

Don’t run with knives or point your blade at other people.

When not in use, cover the blade of your knife in a sheath or store it in a box.

If you injure yourself, seek first aid immediately.

Becoming a proficient thrower takes many hours of practice—and I haven’t mastered it yet. Too many of my throws still miss the bullseye or worse, fall to the ground. But the red-blooded flush of satisfaction from those throws that do stick in the center more than make up for the ones that don’t.

Written By William Gurstelle

#DIY

[bmiremodeling]

Ratio and ten additional rushing scores

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