#i wanna go look at the bamboo some more and see how much its grown in the past week but its so far away and the only way to

[two-calicos-in-a-trenchcoat]

Hackberry Emporer butterfly 🦋 🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋

It gets its name from the Hackberry tree cuz it lays its eggs on it. And we currently have a Hackberry tree attempting to grow out of the mess of honeysuckle

Also my dad had to give the redbud thats been growing up against the house a haircut cuz it was shading my moms tomatoes too much

And it looks goofy as hell now

Fuckin lollipop looking ass

Its fuckin hot out but chewbys need at least 20 minutes of sun a day or they get very sad and mopey and drive everyone crazy

Chewbys also need to roll around in the grass at LEAST twice a day. Very important for chewbys.

If given proper amounts of sun the chewby should melt onto the floor once back inside.

[prof-zimbrane]

The Face of Love

Summary: They’ve done almost all the dating cliches in existence, they’ve been in an established relationship for a while now but there are still secrets between them. Secrets pertaining to a certain someone’s true appearance. Zim loves Professor Membrane and he’s sure that the feelings are mutual but should he risk it?

Word Count: 7443

AO3 link

Yo, here’s a Zimbrane fic for the upcoming Halloween. It’s got body horror?? I guess so read with caution. It’s nothing too bad. Believe me, I bet it’s something you won’t expect ;)

It’s my first fanfic?? ever I guess so please be gentle and if possible, give me feedback on how I can improve cuz I love this pairing and I wanna write more for them ;-;

Zim’s current love-slave has everything Zim ever wants in a partner. Professor Membrane is brilliant, tall, good with weapons, and has caused Dib more anguish and doubt than Zim could ever cause.

Zim knows and has seen what Professor Membrane can accomplish. Combined, they’d be the greatest gift to the universe in all its existence. But there is this… oddity to their relationship.

Most couples would’ve already known how the other really looked like, appearance wise (actual personalities are sometimes never revealed), at their current stage. Yet somehow, Zim has never seen his partner’s face.

Sure Zim hides his appearance, but unlike Professor Membrane, Zim is pretty sure he has a lot more to lose, given his “foreign” heritage and occupation as an invader and all.

But Professor Membrane must be human, right? Whatever horrible thing he’s hiding under his lab coat and goggles couldn’t be the worst Zim has ever seen. Zim isn’t superficial enough to stop loving someone based on their appearance, height notwithstanding, hell humans are already ugly enough to Zim yet he still decided to pursue the scientist.

Maybe Professor Membrane was scarred or disfigured? Or maybe he’s so horrifyingly ugly according to “human” standards that he has to hide it. Dib does have a rather large head after all and Gretchen’s the only one Zim knows (has been told) that seems to like Dib.

There’s nothing wrong with asking things from your partner. In fact, it would only be fair for Zim’s burning curiosity to be satisfied. If Zim wants to find out how Professor Membrane looks like, then he will find it out. He is Zim, nothing is out of the question. But is he ready for it?

He could leave things as they are and continue like normal, or he could confront Professor Membrane and find out what’s hidden underneath. But would it be too soon? They’ve done all sorts of couply things together already, according to Zim’s “dating humans” guide list he devised when learning about human affection that one dreadful time with Tiq? Taco? T something, he still misses his robot bee, Robbee never even completed his first mission, but that’s irrelevant now.

They’ve gone to an expensive eating establishment (Zim paid with Earth monies but those monies were outdated cents and quarters), they’ve watched the sun set and looked at the stars (one of Zim’s favourite moments), they’ve watched horror movies in the cinema (they were more horrified by the actions of the teens surrounding them though), and they even did a “Netflix & Chilli” (Zim still believes that the alien Jim is a loser for losing his leaders to a space anomaly).

They’ve even passed through several stages of physical affection. It started out with staring, then casual pats, they’ve even skipped straight to hugging before hand holding. They haven’t begun eating each other’s faces yet but Zim still finds it repulsive and another factor in the brutishness of stinky human courtship rituals.

Today was one of their date nights. Their plans only included dinner at Zim’s base. Though, Zim hopes that Professor Membrane will acknowledge his amazement at Zim’s awesome cooking skills and be willing to show his face once and for all.

 ---------------------

Dinner went off splendidly. Although the turkey had an unfortunate extra ingredient added to it, in the form of a dysfunctional, hyperactive robot. Professor Membrane thankfully thought of it as a pleasant surprise, meant to showcase Zim’s brilliance.

But now comes the hard part. Zim has to convince the Professor to stay for a while longer. He can do this.

Zim mustered up all his courage and held Professor Membrane’s hand as he was about to say his goodbyes.

“Wait! Stay a bit longer! I still have much to do with you!” Zim looks desperately into Professor Membrane’s shiny goggles, he HAS to find out what was underneath or else he’ll be restless for the entirety of their relationship, which would definitely affect his plans.

“What? We didn’t plan anything else for tonight though. Dib and Gaz should be fine but this is rather sudden.” Professor Membrane looks at their clasped hands and Zim’s hopeful expression.

“What is it that you want exactly? Are we going to your lab again?” He questioned.

He’s been helping Zim out with his inventions, spending a lot of hours just tinkering together in harmony. Science has always been a delight to do but with Zim, it feels like he’s experiencing it for the first time ever. He’s regained some of his wonder and childish curiosity with Zim’s input and feedback.

Anxiety was visible through Zim’s body language. He was hunched over, his eyes hurriedly shifting from left to right and back. He exhaled.

“I want to progress our relationship to the next stage,” Zim admits, “it’s just that, all we’ve done so far is hold hands and cuddle. Not that I hate it! If you ever stop then I will go to your house at night and replace your roboarms with bamboo skewers!”

Zim lets go to cross his arms and glare.

“Well, it is true that we’ve been taking it slow. I could say that part of it is my fault for being unfamiliar with this... relationship thing.” Professor Membrane muses. Is Zim dissatisfied with what they currently have?

“I’m sorry Zim, am I going too slowly for you?” he asked.

“No not at all! You satisfy me plenty. I admit that I’m also new to what we’re doing right now.” Zim quickly denied.

Professor Membrane feels relief. As a scientist, he can deal with all sorts of fields but relationships were harder to understand.

“That’s good, I treasure you and our love together. I don’t usually get to have a lab partner who’s not an employee of mine.” He confesses. He’s grown too attached.

“Great! As for the reason I am keeping you here for,” Zim paused.

He was in the right to ask for things. He shouldn’t feel worried.

 “I’m demanding that you show your face to me.” Zim said resolutely. He looked expectedly at his human.

Professor Membrane felt panic. He should’ve expected it. He didn’t think it would be now though.

“My face? There’s nothing to see! It looks quite boring underneath.” He tried to play it off.

Zim looks dejected and hurt. Professor Membrane ignored him, that hurt.

“But I don’t even know what you look like. I don’t know the colour of your eyes or the shape of your face or even if you have weird lips. How can I be sure that you’re not a new person every time we meet? Are you even the original Membrane that I confessed to? You’re not another weird clone right?” Zim accused. Starting a chain of repeated lines.

“I’m not…” Professor Membrane answered.

“Are you?”

“I’m not…”

“Are you?!”

“I’m not...”

“Are you?!!”

He had enough. While he may love Zim, he doesn’t enjoy this continuous back and forth, even if it is somewhat cute.

“ZIM!” he shouted, “I swear by my 24 degrees that I’m not a clone. I’m the only original Professor Membrane in this reality.”

“Then why are you hiding your face from me? Don’t worry! I don’t mind if you look hideous. Just show me your trust.” He tried to look harmless but inside, Zim is worried that he’s asking for too much. Something is telling him to trust Professor Membrane in return.

Professor Membrane remained silent for a while. He’s debating internally over whether he should show Zim his face.

But eventually he relented to Zim’s request.

“Alright, I’ll show you but do you have somewhere else where we could do this? Your kitchen-lavatory room is not what I have in mind for sharing personal secrets”

They looked around. Gir, still in the turkey, was taking care of his many pig friends. The camera Dib installed is still visibly there, recording their conversation. Zim should remind the Computer to disable it or have it record a non-stop footage of Floopsy Bloops Schmoopsy.

“Urghh, I guess it’s fine.” Zim groans out. “Join me in my basement.”

He leads Professor Membrane by the hands through a closet that goes underground. It was different from the other places of Zim’s underground level. Here is where he kept his more Earth friendly technology.

It looks somewhat similar to Professor Membrane’s own lab in his basement, except with what appears to be a waiting area, with a sofa, a soda vending machine and a receptionist desk. But the only life there were bundled in the cobwebs of the receptionist’s chair. The receptionist is apparently out for smoke break.

They settled on the comfortable purple sofa. Anticipation was in the air.

“Well? Show Zim the goods!” Zim holds out his arms in a ‘gimme’ gesture. He can’t wait to see what all the fuss is about.

Professor Membrane takes off his goggles first to reveal his eyes. His fingers then undid the upper half of his lab coat to reveal the bottom half of his face. Underneath his lab coat he wore a tight, black turtle neck.

It’s not what Zim expected. He was shocked. His previous expectations were crushed like humans should be underneath his boot.

There’s nothing wrong. Professor Membrane’s face looks like any other humans. If Zim were human, he’d even consider Professor Membrane’s face to be ridiculously good-looking, even by celebrity standards. But Zim wasn’t a human so, to him Professor Membrane’s face was as ugly as all the rest of the human species.

Even Professor Membrane’s eyes are nothing extraordinary, except for the glowing blue light that the irises emit and the pupils that expanded and contracted like camera shutters.

Zim actually found himself feeling slightly disappointment, since there was nothing special to look at.

“Is that all you have hidden there? Why even bother wearing your coat and goggles so conservatively?” Zim says annoyingly.

“That’s just my fashion sense.” Professor Membrane says chipperly.

He laughed disconcertingly, a drawn out “Ha ha ha,” as if he were watching a comedian embarrass himself instead of delivering actual jokes.

He’s trying to placate Zim. Professor Membrane was acting strange. His lips seem to be delayed by a couple of nanoseconds when he speaks. If it weren’t for the many modifications Irkens had to endure, Zim never would have noticed.

“Your eyes are different though. They’re not brown like the eyes of the Dib-beast or the little Gaz-monster.” Zim is judging Professor Membrane.

Zim’s nicknames for his kids were odd but somehow, they sounded charming to the Professor.

“I had them replaced when my vision was failing, you know how humans are with all the limitations of biology.” He hand waved his difference away. Zim is still not satisfied.

“Let me see them closer.”

Zim leaned on Professor Membrane. He’s holding Professor Membrane’s face in his palms as he stared deep into his human’s eyes. Zim always thought that human eyes were freaky, with their milky white sclera. But Professor Membrane’s eyes were pretty. He had long lashes and the electric blue glow they emitted reminded Zim of Tallest Miyuki’s calm gaze that captivated the hearts of her people.

Zim observed the rest of his face, Professor Membrane’s nose looked regal and fit him perfectly. Zim also notes that his features were perfectly symmetrical, another contributing factor in human attractiveness, although this time it also extended to Irken beauty standards. Finally, there was something both races had in common.

Before he realized it, his gaze then went down to the scientist’s lips. They looked soft and had a perfect curve to them. But they were pressed tight, stiff and unmoving.

He was removed out of his stupor when Professor Membrane uttered a word, Zim’s name, from his perfectly shaped lips. Such perfection was otherworldly, it shouldn’t exist. There weren’t any blemishes or other hideous imperfections on his skin either.

“Zim? Zim! While I do find your attention flattering, don’t you think you’re too close?” Professor Membrane said in a hitched voice.

Professor Membrane’s eyes revealed his current emotions more than the rest of his face. Despite the nervous tone, his face remained stoic, his wide-blown, erratic pupils betrayed him instead.

Zim hadn’t realized, but he’s moved so close that he was kneeling on top of Professor Membrane. They’ve cuddled before, it’s true, but never this close, and never face-to-face with Professor Membrane’s exposed, hypnotic eyes.

It was the first time Zim didn’t feel revulsion at seeing a human. His past self would’ve spitted at him and called him a filthy xenophile for feeling whatever this is. But Zim putting himself before his empire was nothing new, although it still hurt him to acknowledge it.

“You’re actually not too hideous. I am pleased.” Zim tried to sound dismissive, but it’s clear that he is affected by his lover’s appearance.

“I’m glad my face pleases you then, my celestial lover.” Professor Membrane said warmly.

His expression was light. A smile graced his lips. That made something flutter in Zim’s innards.

But he began feeling another rare feeling, guilt. What is it with all these feelings now?? Zim is too great to be bothered by that. Yet, should he reveal his actual face? Would he be dissected or worse vivisected if he did? He doesn’t want to live out the rest of his life stuck in a tube. His partner was related to Dib after all and his passion for science is, at times, obsessive.

Zim was distracted from his worries by a sudden pressure on his lips. They were soft. His love was kissing him. That was Zim’s first kiss. Not just Zim’s first kiss on the lips but first kiss in general, and it had to be lip-to-lip.

Before he could respond to Professor Membrane’s actions, the Professor drew back with a sheepish expression.

“I’m sorry Zim, I didn’t mean to kiss you like that.” He mumbled.

Professor Membrane’s arms, which were previously stuck to his side, lifted to caress Zim’s head.

“I couldn’t help myself, you’re really cute Zim. Was it too soon?” He asked.

“No it’s fine. I liked it. I liked it a lot.” Zim felt dizzy. He was embarrassed to admit it to himself, but it was the truth.

“There won’t be any cannibalism though right?” asked Zim. Worry appeared on his face again but more exaggerated than before.

“What if there was, what if I admit that I want to eat you up?” Professor Membrane said teasingly. He’s amused by his love’s thinking.

“If anyone does the eating it would be Zim!” he exclaimed. “My love-pig is no match for my razor sharp teeth.”

Zim shows off his pink, zipper teeth. Another odd thing about Zim that captivates the curious mind of the Professor.

“Perhaps, we should test it out with a little experiment?” Professor Membrane’s eyes sparkled with mischief.

“What kind of experiment?” Zim questioned.

“An experiment where we find out who’ll consume the other first.” He challenged Zim.

“It will definitely be me.” Zim grinned, showing off his teeth again.

This time, it was Zim who acted first. He pressed his lips tight against his human’s. Zim’s antenna tingled underneath his wig, if he hadn’t stuck it tightly with adhesives before, they would’ve sprung free from their confinement, he’s learnt his lessons during Earth’s many challenges.

Professor Membrane held Zim tighter towards his body. As if he never wants to let go, as if he’s afraid of losing Zim.

Zim’s hands were still occupied with exploring every inch of Professor Membrane’s face. He wants to burn his love's features into his hands, forever imprinting their impressions into his memory.

But, during Zim’s explorations, he began noticing a long depression near the outer reaches of Professor Membrane’s face. It wouldn’t have been noticeable, if Zim hadn’t been an Irken. Irkens had really sensitive skin, that’s why they cover themselves up so much.

He paused his kissing to get a better feel for Professor Membrane’s face. The depression circled the outer cheeks, over the eyebrows and seemingly ended between Professor Membrane’s upper and lower lip on both sides.

“My love? What are you doing?” Professor Membrane stuttered out. Yet, Zim’s previous observations about the stoicism of his features seemed sprung out more than ever.

“There is something you’re keeping from me. I can sense it beneath my fingers!” Zim accused Professor Membrane.

He stood up from his previous position to pace around the room, never taking his eyes of his lover. Zim moved like an interrogator in a prison. He won’t stand any lies.

If Professor Membrane could emote more, he’d have despair written all over his face. His right hand began covering the bottom part of face, in a nervous gesture.

“Zim, my love, there’s nothing wrong. Come back to my arms. Whatever you felt must have been due to your unfamiliarity with my face.”

Still seated, he leans towards Zim with his arms spread out.

“Oh no! Don’t lie to me! I know what I’ve felt, I’ve seen how you move your lips. Why don’t you trust me?!” Zim recoils.

Zim’s never trusted anyone before but he expects trust from them. Zim has always believed himself to be a genuine person, sans his human disguise, and to have his character or actions questioned really pissed him off.

“You’re right Zim,” he relented “I am hiding something. I’ve only shown this to a few of the people I know, and it’s always ended in them disappearing. Not even Gaz or Dib have seen me without this.”

There’s something chilling about the way Professor Membrane says it. It was like Zim stepped on an old landmine, waiting to see if it’ll end in a disaster or not. He’s not sure about what Professor Membrane meant by disappearing but he doesn’t want to question it. As a part of the Irken Elite and as an Irken soldier, he can face anything.

“Don’t worry, whatever secrets you hold won’t be enough to scare me away. I love you, I’ve never loved anyone before.” Zim’s voice was soft, remarkably different from his usual screeching.

How many times has he said those words? Aside from his first sentence towards the only parental unit Zim ever knew, he’s only said it to Professor Membrane.

Again, Zim is doing something uncharacteristic. Was he trying to ease Professor Membrane’s discomfort with this entire thing? Trying to convince himself to be brave? Or was it just love that made Zim say that. Could a human really make Zim question himself that way? What kind of person is Professor Membrane to hold this much power over Zim’s heart.

“Please, don’t look away.” Professor Membrane pleaded.

He walked towards Zim, the height difference more noticeable now that they’re standing in front of each other. But that difference disappeared though, when Professor Membrane kneeled in front of Zim.

It was like one of those Earth movies that Zim watches, where one of the members of a couple kneel down to ask for a union. But instead of reaching into a pocket for a small rock, Professor Membrane reached for the sides of his face.

Slowly, he revealed what’s hidden underneath. Zim was right. Professor Membrane was disfigured. What he didn’t expect was the severity of the disfigurement.

In all of Zim’s time on Earth, with his countless research on human biology, he’s never sliced off anyone’s face. But even then, it wouldn’t have looked like Professor Membrane’s current features. His face was a prosthetic.

He has no face, no barrier protecting his passageways from the outside world. The only remaining parts of Professor Membrane’s face were his lower jaw, his temples, and his eyes.

Looking closer, Zim could see that the glow of his eyes was concentrated on the front part, the only part that is visible with Professor Membrane’s face prosthetic. The other half was encased in metal, connected to his organic parts with wires.

It was fascinating actually, seeing the mucosal tissues of a human. There was so much pink, pink like the lifeblood that flows through every Irken’s veins. His tongue was resting on top of his lower jaw, it was weird seeing it disappear as it nears the throat, going down the oesophagus.

Zim could also see a marriage between the organic and mechanic, as metallic parts are there to support and cover some of the exposed meat. Where there should be the nasal passage, was an artificial tube.

The edges featured tiny magnets, probably to hold Professor Membrane’s faceplate. Zim has seen much in his lifetime. He’s seen how cybernetics could replace almost anything but it was always visible if something is unnatural. Yet, Professor Membrane’s face, or at least his prosthetic, was good enough to fool Zim.

It was better than a hologram, that only mimics and changes appearances visually. It was something turned physical. Zim should feel disgusted, but instead he was more amazing than Zim could ever imagine.

The Professor’s technology was even more intertwined with his biology than Irken technology is with Irken bodies. While almost everything is genetically enhanced or modified, the mechanical aspect of Irken’s only constitutes their Pak, which is located outside of their bodies, attached to their spine.

“Love, speak. Do I scare you?” When he talked, his voice projected out from his throat. He had a voice box implanted. His tongue and lower jaw aren’t enough to make the appropriate vocalizations.

It was at that moment that Professor Membrane tried to cover up his gruesome anatomy with his faceplate but Zim stopped him. Before he could attach his face back on, Zim snatched his prosthetic.

Zim says in a low tone, or as low as he could try, he still sounds loud.

“No, you don’t scare me. Your current appearance doesn’t even disgust me. Instead, you intrigue me. I’ve never seen a human like you before.”

“In fact! Everyone else is disgusting compared to you.” He said louder, almost giddy-like.

“You’re brilliant! A genius worthy of Zim even! You merge technology so wonderfully, I want to see more!” There was audible excitement when Zim spoke.

“Zim, you don’t have to attack me with compliments. Is that really what you think?” Professor Membrane whispers, it’s hard to talk without his prosthetic. He uses a voice box but the movement of his artificial lip over his real lip was enough to make him believe that he is producing sound the natural way. It hurts.

Zim is studying the face prosthetic Professor Membrane designed. It was animatronic. The movement was controlled with nanotubes and circuitry connecting to small motors. If Zim wasn’t concerned about offending Professor Membrane, he’d rush to his underground labs to study it.

He feels a surge of affection, this is his human, no one else’s but Zim’s. Even other aliens don’t compare to his partner. Some were even too stupid to be alive, but somehow they live.

“Don’t be foolish, foolishness doesn’t suit you. You know that I adore you.” Never has Zim uttered something so soft before.

“I love you for your mind,” he kisses his lover’s forehead, “your strength,” he kisses his lover’s robo arms, “your height,” he kisses the hair scythe, “and everything else about you.” he leaves a big kiss on Professor Membrane’s prosthetic and Professor Membrane’s lower jaw.

Professor Membrane was stunned, his lower jaw dropped down and his electronic eyes emitted an even brighter glow. Zim hands Professor Membrane the prosthetic.

“Now cover up your holes before the germs invade you. I will not be having my lover be sick due to some pathetic Earth virus.” Zim looks at his lover. If he could, he would kiss the Professor’s soul, so only Zim would remain in the scientist’s heart.

Professor Membrane, places his face plate on with a ‘click.’ He lifts Zim up in his arms as he stands from his kneeling position. Zim shrieked as his feet lost contact with the ground.

“I was right to love you, Zim!” The Professor was gleeful.

“You’d be stupid if you rejected me.” Zim’s smugness at being loved reached an all-time high.

Professor Membrane twirled Zim above his head and hugged him close.

“You remember how I said that I never showed this to my children?” Professor Membrane hummed into Zim’s wig.

“Yes?”

“Please don’t tell them.” The Professor begged. His request surprised Zim.

“The Dib really doesn’t know? Wonderful! You have nothing to fear! I’ll keep your secret. You must really love Zim then!” Zim laughed maniacally.

Zim was so euphoric, his legs were moving back and forth.

“I’m glad I showed this side of mine to you. I like to imagine that, if I had an actual face, it would look similar to my prosthetic.” The current richest inventor and researcher on Earth sounded defeated.

The feeling returned. The feeling called guilt. Here he is, in the arms of his lover. His lover who doesn’t even know that Zim is from an entirely different race, sent to conquer his beloved Earth. It was a heavy feeling.

Is Zim actually empathizing with this human? He feels wrong, dirty, for taking advantage of someone like Professor Membrane. It was like he was spitting at the Professor’s intelligence.

There is no turning back from this relationship. At least, no way of turning back on his love. If Zim were to break things off, or just disappear, he’d end up with a broken heart. He still doesn’t know why it would hurt but just the thought makes his squeedilyspooch twist in angst.

He wants to continue whatever this is. He wants to feel light, feel acknowledged, feel loved. But if this really were mutual, then Zim would have to reveal his Irken self and be exposed as the enemy he is.

The Professor is still holding Zim up. He seemed content having Zim in his arms. Cuddling and nuzzling him. This is a comfort unmatched by any other.

Zim doesn’t want this to end, he’s ruined almost everything else good in his life. The Tallest haven’t contacted him in ages and the Massive and Irken fleets still remain missing. It’s lonely being the only Irken on Earth. Every other Irken is fleeing from the colonies they’ve conquered.

If Zim were to meet his demise, then he wouldn’t mind it being at the hands of his love, his equal. He breaks out of his lover’s grasp. He knows what to do.

“With all these secrets we’re sharing with each other, I believe that it is only fair for you to cast your eyes on my amazing self!” Zim acts confident, he can do confident, he can be cocky about his real looks. After all, he is handsome in all ways except height.

“Yes Zim, you are an amazing specimen.” The Professor looks at Zim fondly.

“You don’t get it! Focus more on my actual features. I know this disguise is amazing but you, as Zim’s equal should be able to tell where I differ from the rest!” Zim said angrily.

“Ok? Well, you have no visible nose or ears, you’re green and you have the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen.” His eyebrow lifted up in confusion as he spoke.

“Yes, yes I know my attractiveness is intimidating. But do you think I’m too attractive? Out of this world even?” Zim expects him to say the truth. The full truth. He’s not sure if he’s ready to be the one to confess things.

“You’re the only I know who looks like you.” Professor Membrane doesn’t know what else to say.

“Don’t you think it’s strange? The Dib always accuses me of being an alien.” Zim is stalling. He hopes that the Professor will find out on his own, so Zim wouldn’t have to admit it.

“I know my son is a handful, I’ll tell him to be more considerate of your skin condition.” The Professor said, exasperatingly, he doesn’t know what to do about his son.

If Professor Membrane thinks that that is what Zim is asking for then he really needs to join a reading the atmosphere class. Professor Membrane can be really blind at times.

“NO! The Dib-beast is right! I’m an alien! I’ve always been an alien. I come from the planet Irk. What you saw a few months earlier was real.” Zim said it. He can’t wait for Professor Membrane to find out his identity, it might take decades.

He takes off his contacts, his wig, and his goatee and threw them to the ground.

“I’m the alien you fought that day!” Zim points to himself.

“Look at my pink solid eyes, look at these antenna. Don’t you think I’m an alien?” He becomes more frustrated as he pointed out each strange thing about himself.

“Oh Zim, don’t worry about your appearance, I’ll always find you attractive. Your eyes are lovely by the way. You don’t have to call yourself an alien.” Professor Membrane still refuses to see what’s right in front of him.

Zim tugs off his gloves and boots.

“I have three fingers! I have two toes! Is it getting into your brain yet? I’m an alien.” Does the Professor want Zim to degrade himself further? Should he perform a little song and dance to the tune of the Irken Empires anthem?

“Those things could be congenital defects. I’m glad you’re comfortable enough with me to share your insecurities.” Professor Membrane’s attempts at being understanding are pathetic.

“Unless, you’re doing this because you hope to scare me off?” His voice takes on a worried tone, completely unwarranted in Zim’s opinion.

“You stupid, dumb, idiotic human!” Zim screams out.

Zim removes his shirt. He never intended to turn this into a sort of striptease, a term he learnt from a drunk guy who decided to ‘put on a show’ for more booze monies. Zim is glad that Gir dunked him in molten butter and popcorn because that display really disgusted him.

He drags the Professor down to have a seat on the floor and positions his Pak towards Professor Membrane. He also extends one of his spider legs. Hopefully, this will be enough to convince him of his extraterrestrial origins.

“Look at my Pak! Touch it with your robo hands! What you’re looking at is high quality Irken technology.” Zim is tired.

Professor Membrane is transfixed. He’s never seen something like this before. The Pak wasn’t stuck on superficially, it actually goes into Zim’s back. Studying it for a while, he realizes that it’s not made from materials found on Earth and it’s more advanced than anything he knows, something that shouldn’t be possible.

“I am a member of the Irken race. An intergalactic race who’s currently trying to take over the universe. I am an invader brought to Earth to take it over for Operation Doom II.

We modified ourselves biomechanically to be the ultimate species. The Pak you’re studying right now is where the entirety of Irken history and knowledge is contained. It is better than your human brains and computers. It holds my personality, my tools and my intelligence.” Zim explains.

“It holds all that information? You know the entire history of your race?” Asked an astonished Membrane.

“Several thousands of years of knowledge and more, regarding some other races and planets.” Zim didn’t think that Professor Membrane would focus on that, he thought he’d be held up on this conquering Earth thing he spewed out.

“Can you take up more information in your Pak?” The inquiries were calm, rational. As if Professor Membrane was doing a survey.

“Our Paks were designed to hold at least 1 billion years of storage.” That is a fact that still makes Zim proud of being an Irken, not many races can brag about having so much storage space.

In the scheme of things, 1 billion years is nothing compared to the expected lifespan of the universe, but it is more than enough for effervescent species like humans and Irkens.

Professor Membrane does the unexpected once again, he hugged Zim fiercely, ecstatically. Zim looked behind him, the stoicism of his prosthetic is nowhere to be found, an absurdly large grin was present on his face.

Was this a trap? His grin reminded Zim of the times Dib would smile before doing something horrible to Zim or before promising to do something horrible. That manic glint in Professor Membrane’s cyber eyes was heightened with the rapid closing and opening of his shutters, like a camera taking pictures.

Zim expected shock, Zim expected denial, Zim expected hatred or even understanding if things were more positive. But this elated expression on his lover’s face was something Zim did not expect. It was like he actually got the twelve cases of Uranium-38 from Santa on Christmas.

“Thank you Zim, I believe you. Without you I would’ve never had this chance.” Professor Membrane finally spoke out.

“What?” Zim asked.

“You’re amazing, Zim. Special. I’ll never regret meeting you.” The Professor was stroking his antenna in an overly possessive manner. This aggressive petting was something Professor Membrane never did. If Zim had any sensation on his one special, not defective, antenna, he’d be blushing from head to toe.

This really makes Zim wonder if Professor Membrane is planning to study his insides and dump him in a laboratory to be studied. But this time, Zim is prepared. He’ll face all sorts of tests, as long as he can stay by the Professor’s side.

This sort of devotion was only ever reserved for the Tallest though but they’re gone, possibly forever and the only leader Zim wants to have is Professor Membrane.

“Love-pig, I give you permission to use my body in whatever way you want.”

Zim accepted his fate, he willingly gives himself up for experimentation. He tries to break free from Professor Membrane’s vice grip to face him. It’s hard to have this discussion with his back against Professor Membrane’s chest.

The Professor paused his ministrations. Zim feels a sudden spike in Professor Membrane’s heartbeat and temperature.

“Zim, what do you think I’ll be doing with you?” The Professor is bashful. He doesn’t want any more misunderstandings between them.

“Aren’t you going to strap me on a table and use your various tools on me?” Zim was puzzled.

Professor Membrane still looks at Zim confusedly.

“I’ll let you cut me up but I’ll tell you where it’s safe to cut open because I still enjoy living and I expect to remain alive in your care until you can’t learn anything more from me. But don’t think it’ll be a short study! I am much more knowledgeable than you. I know more… knowledge!! than you. Things you humans can’t even begin to imagine!” He made his peace.

“Oh. NO! No Zim. I would never experiment on you like that!”

Professor Membrane’s outcry was unexpected.

“You’re more than anything I could ever dream of. You’re the answer to my loneliness.”

Was that it? Was Professor Membrane simply impressed with Zim’s true self? Was he in awe of Zim? The Professor might have reacted the same way if he met any other Irkens but it doesn’t matter to Zim. It is Zim Professor Membrane is reacting to, and not anyone else.

“Yup! Zim is the best! Too bad you’re a pitiful human and not a superior Irken.” Zim is back to his confident self.

“Let me apologize Zim. Please forgive me. I know you told me to trust you, but I haven’t been completely truthful.”

The Professor shrinks into himself, he’s ashamed.

Zim is more surprised. What else could Professor Membrane be hiding? Is it something on his body? While Zim was shirtless, gloveless and bootless, Professor Membrane still has his full coat on, only with the upper part undone. It’s not fair.

“I guess I should reveal my full self as well.”

He removes his face plate again, but instead of seeing the insides of a human head, there’s a hole. A black hole. Dark in colour. Not even his eyes remained.

Zim looks in. He sees everything and nothing, he sees the beginning and the end of humanity. He’s experiencing bliss but agony as well. There is so much information being downloaded in Zim’s Pak that it’s whirring frantically, trying to compile and organize everything. It was a sight he’s never seen before. He doesn’t even know what he’s looking at to be honest.

It’s addicting. He watches the smooth black void swirl with light splotches of what appears to be stars. There are nuclear fissions happening. It was like Professor Membrane contained a small galaxy on his face, with a black hole as its centre.

If Zim were sane he’d have lost his sanity but all he could feel is delight instead of horror. His scientific side is curious, he wants to know what, why, how it’s even possible.

Zim knows he should feel terrified. He’s dealing with something other, something inhuman. Professor Membrane is no ordinary being. He is like one of those Lovecraftian gods that humans make fiction of.

“Can I touch it?” He can’t call it a face, it held too much to be a face.

“Yes, but be careful,” Professor Membrane’s voice emitted from the void.

Zim briefly wonders what happened to the modifications Professor Membrane made. He hopes they’re not gone forever, it’s another part of his lover that Zim has learnt to cherish already.

Zim reaches for Professor Membrane’s actual ‘face,’ his hand gets sucked in. Terror filled Zim as he struggles. He’s afraid he’s being sucked in to be consumed by the void. Maybe Professor Membrane will consume him after all?

Before he can be pulled towards the centre of the hole, arms surround him and he is being held in place. Today is not the day Zim dies.

“Zim! I told you to be careful!” that voice appeared again. The voice of Zim’s daydreams and fantasies. Professor Membrane is still with him. Zim forgot for a moment.

“Hah! Don’t be silly my love! Nothing can beat the Almighty Zim!!!” He’s come down from whatever kept his mind in the clouds.

While being fastened by Professor Membrane, Zim decides to reach his arm out. Self-perseverance is a trait that Zim possesses but sometimes, he just wants to act out his impulses.

He feels something squishy and wet. Zim grabbed whatever that was. When he retracted his hand, he discovers that he’s holding onto a baby octopus. He puts it back in to grab something else. A teacup filled with hot tea. Typical. This time he doesn’t put his hand back in, giving the tea to Professor Membrane.

“What’s all that inside you?” Zim asks, he shrugs off the weirdness, it’s an ordinary Tuesday for him. A turbulent Tuesday but still a Tuesday.

“The combined knowledge of mankind.” It’s uncanny hearing Professor Membrane’s voice.

“What are you anyways?” If his lover isn’t a human, then Zim could gleefully continue their relationship without feeling too much guilt.

“I still like to consider myself as a human.” That dashes Zim’s hopes but considering Professor Membrane’s credentials, he’s still proud of being able to call himself Professor Membrane’s lover.

“But a human who’s been in existence as long as mankind has been. I don’t remember my origin, if I were to imagine myself as a child, it would be how I currently am, only smaller.” It was hard for Professor Membrane to admit that he’s forgotten important parts of himself.

“Irkens are only alive for a millennia of your human time.” It hurts Zim to realize this.

He always expected that he’d outlive his partner when the time comes but it might actually be the other way around. He doesn’t want to think more on it. He wants to move away from that topic.

“Is Professor your real name?” Zim has found out that Professor is a title, like Frylord or Invader or even Tallest is. So he was confused when looking at Professor Membrane’s documents to see that Professor is written as his first name.

“I’ve been called many things throughout my existence but the name that sticks out the most is Thoth.” Professor Membrane reflects back. That was something he can remember.

“Anyways, I want to discover more and your existence made me realize that mankind has restrained my full potential.” The Professor said.

Delight fills Zim. Is Professor Membrane willing to turn his back on humanity?

“With you telling me about your extraterrestrial origin, I was able to find proof of the existence of life in other worlds. The probability always existed but I never had any concrete evidence.

And the knowledge humans collected on space is so insufficient that they don’t really tell anything. Other information, like what Dib usually talks about, can be easily considered as hoaxes, quick to exit the minds of the populace.” He continued saying.

Every dismayed admittance of the inadequacy of humans and their discoveries makes Zim happier and happier.

“There are still many things to discover, that’s why I became a scientist, mankind’s knowledge is limited and information found can easily be lost forever.” Professor Membrane concluded his little speech.

Humans really are pitiful. Zim wished he could have landed on Earth ages ago, to forge a path for faster development. Hmm. Maybe he should consider doing it now, with Professor Membrane by his side.

“You’re not keeping anymore secrets from me are you?” To count, Zim has been shocked an entirety of three times in the span of this date. He checked the time with his Pak. Two and half hours have passed. This makes for a surprise every 50 minutes.

“No more secrets, my love.” Professor Membrane places his prosthetic back on his face. Zim sees the moment the void disappears and dissipates to turn back into the fleshy opening.

“We both showed our true faces to each other.” Zim said. His trust in the Professor is absolute. They’ll never have to hide themselves ever again in each other’s presence.

“We did. I’m glad we did. Thank you Zim.” The voice came out of Professor Membrane’s mouth, where voices are supposed to come out from.

Inspecting Professor Membrane’s face prosthetic, Zim acknowledges that he loves all of Professor Membrane’s faces. His kissable lips opened to say something. Zim wants to punch himself for thinking that way.

“You’re the only one to survive seeing my true self. Everyone else died from brain hemorrhaging or lost their minds to never recover.” He said nonchalantly.

“Good! Give Zim all the praise!” Zim takes any chance he can get to be praised. “And all the kisses!! Those were nice.” Professor Membrane delivers a quick peck on the lips.

“You deserve all the kisses from me,” Professor Membrane agrees, “I had a wonderful date.”

A realization hit Zim. Date night still didn’t end. And when date night continued after dinner, it usually meant that they would be spending time tinkering and working on one thing or another.

“Let’s work on making your prosthetic move smoother. I have just the right Irken tech to show you in my other working area. You’ll love it.

I modified it of course to make it less stupid but it should give you a fully functional ugly human face with feelings. It’ll hide your beautiful insides unfortunately but that’s living on Earth for people like us.” Zim rambled on, already thinking up of different things to do.

“Does it look anything like your disguise?” Professor Membrane loves Zim but a fake goatee, a wig and contacts don’t make for a good disguise, he confessed to himself.

Oh dear. Dib was right. Zim’s disguise was bad. Dib was also right about Zim being an alien. Professor Membrane promises to himself that he’ll believe his son more from now on.

“What? Unfortunately no! All the other disguises hid way too much of my handsomeness and it would be a disservice to everyone for me to hide it!”

Zim went on a tirade, “The Earth will be even more MORE sadder and uglier if I looked exactly like you humans. Gross. Be happy you get to see my full handsomeness in my true Irken self. There are many who don’t get the opportunity that you have.”

Zim gestures to himself. He’s still half-dressed. Professor Membrane hands Zim the rest of his outfit before things turn awkward. After dressing quickly, Zim once more is leading Professor Membrane by the hands into his labs, the cooler ones with all the alien tech.

‘Zim, never change, my lover from the stars.’ Professor Membrane thinks to himself fondly, as he is being led away. His various faces may not allow for much expression but he is smiling internally, full of love.

[coffee-obsessed-writer]

When You Least Expect It: Part Three

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Jensen x Musician!Reader

A/N: This is a slow burn fic that I have been working on for a while. Its a story I wrote for myself and just wanted to share with everyone. Yes, the “Dee” in the story is who you think, but there is no intended hate on her or their actual marriage. It is a work of fiction, that is all. Part three is from Jensen’s POV. There is also a playlist to go along with the series. 

Series Playlist: “When You Least Expect It” (Spotify)

Series Summary: After a hard breakup, Jensen decides to throw himself into organizing a Music Festival in Austin that is meant to raise money for a few of his most cherished charities and organizations. As he throws himself into planning it, he stumbles upon a spirited, undiscovered performer, who he convinces to come aboard to help plan and coordinate the event with him. What transpires after that takes both Jensen and his new friend, by surprise. But when their respective pasts come back just before the event kicks off in Austin, they will both have to decide if the unexpected feelings are worth perusing, or if they should just walk away and go on with their lives.

Series Warnings: Language, Break-Ups, Angst, Fluff, Smut (that’s it for now)

WC: 3.5K 

*Banner created by me; pics & gifs found online

Jensen was fucking cold.

He didn’t start feeling the chill set into his bones until they made their way back up the beach towards where he left his car. They chatted casually on the walk back, mostly about the festival, and Austin itself, but when they reached her front door he found it hard to say goodbye. Unless he was mistaken, he got the vibe that maybe she didn’t want too, either.

They stood outside her door for another three or four minutes and she finally noticed his body trembling.

“Hey, why don’t you come inside? After all, it is my fault that you’re shivering. I think I have some clothes here that may fit you alright since you’re completely soaked through.”

“It’s fine. I’ll make it back to the hotel alright,” he said through chattering teeth.

“Nonsense, come on. Besides, we’re going to be spending a lot of time together over the next year. Might as well start getting used to you being around all the time.” She winked and unlocked the front door.

Stepping into her bungalow, he felt instantly comfortable in her space. The furniture was older, but it was still in decent shape and very cozy. The couch was draped in oversized fleece blankets with a few plush throw pillows. There were nautical decorations, pictures of fishing boats all over the walls, and even the curtains covering the small kitchen window bore anchors and sailboats. A small hallway divided the room, separating the living room from the eat-in kitchen that led to the bedrooms and single bathroom.

“Cute place,” he said after looking around. “Not exactly what I would have imagined your taste to be.”

She laughed. “Not my taste, at all. This was my dad’s house, long before it was mine. I just never wanted to change it after he passed.”

“Oh,” Jensen replied, “I’m sorry.”

“Thanks. It was a long time ago, but, thanks…” she trailed off for a moment but came back around. “Let me get you those clothes so do you don’t develop pneumonia on my watch.”

Y/N disappeared down the hallway, and Jensen took the time to really look at the pictures that lined the walls. He saw a small girl, and boy slightly older standing with a man in his forties on the dock. Beside them was a fifty-plus foot fishing boat.

“That’s him,” she said upon her return and pointed to the man in the photo. “That’s my dad, Monty, and that was his boat, Song of the Sea.”

“Cool name. That’s you, then?” he asked, pointing to the girl beside Monty.

“Yep, that’s me, and that’s my brother Dave.”

“Is he a fisherman, too?”

“Nope. He’s a dickhead. I don’t know what he does for a living now. We haven’t talked in years.”

“Oh…”

“Clothes,” she said and handed them out to him. “If you’re hungry I have some leftover pizza in the fridge I can warm up. It’s from Saw Mill.”

“I am down for some pizza,” he smiled, feeling quite content with the direction the evening took, despite his dip in the ocean. “Is there a place I could change?”

“Yeah, down the hall, last door on the left.”

Jensen found the bathroom and stripped out of his clothes. The room was blessedly warm, allowing his skin to unfreeze the moment the wet clothes had been removed. He borrowed one of the towels that had been hanging on the back of the door and used it to dry his hair. Once he had on the fresh set of clothes, he paused and looked at his reflection in the mirror. It was the first chance he had to be alone with his own thoughts since arriving at the Bamboo, and as his own green eyes stared back he didn’t know where to begin processing it all.

Twenty-four hours ago he was laying in his hotel bed, dreaming about some mystery girl, and now he was standing in her house, about to gnaw on some pizza and discuss how she’s going to be working with him over the course of the next year.

Are you out of your fucking mind? He silently asked his reflection. He decided he must be, but he also decided that he didn’t necessarily care. When he searched his genuine feelings, the ones he kept very close to the vest, he was happy. He felt good about making her the offer and even better that she accepted it. The other ones, the tangled mess of clingy, fawning emotions that bubbled so close to the surface were the ones he didn’t want.

You can get to know her, be her friend, without it turning to sex. Certainly, no feelings. This is work. She’s smart and creative and will be an asset to the team bringing this to life, he said to himself, almost like a mantra.

Then, out loud. “It can’t be anything more… It. can’t. Whatever you think you feel… you don’t. It's just--”

A soft knock at the door interrupted his train of thought. “Yeah?”

“Sorry, I just wanted to see if you wanted a beer with your pizza. I have water and some apple juice, or--”

“A beer sounds great,” he replied. “Be out in a minute.”

It was quiet again, and he assumed she must have walked away. Remembering their earlier exchange on the word, he didn’t want to take the chance she would hear him. One beer, one slice of pizza, then back to the hotel and tomorrow back to Vancouver. You got this, his inner voice promised himself.

Two beers and two slices later, Jensen was sitting criss-cross applesauce on Y/N’s floor, with her next to him and a photo album depicting her years in drama club productions in front of them.

“Oh, this one,” she started and pulled it from its plastic sleeve pausing to look at it long enough for one of those soft, reflective smiles to touch her lips. “This is from when we did Grease.”

“That’s you there?”

“Yup. I was the understudy for Sandy. The lead they cast was a healthy specimen, so I got to play one of the Pink Ladies instead.”

“I bet you would have made a kick-ass Sandy,” he teased and took a closer look at the picture.

She snatched it from his fingers and returned it to the album. “Nah, I was way too wild to be Sandy. The girl they cast was purity defined. She did a great job. Frenchie, maybe, or Rizzo… I could have pulled off Rizzo.”

“Now we’re talking. Rizzo, she was my favorite. I always had a thing for the bad girls,” he mused with a devilish grin before finishing off his second beer.

“Want another?” Y/N asked and got up from the floor.

Jensen considered it and waved her off. “Nah, I should probably get back to the hotel.”

“Right…” she mumbled and opened the fridge to grab herself another beer. “I mean, it's after two. If you wanna crash in the spare bedroom, it's open.”

“You’d be okay with that?” He watched her reaction closely. Yes, they had grown close in the day they spent together, and he was oddly comfortable with the idea of crashing at her place. But he didn’t want to seem as if he was continually pushing himself on her.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t.”

“Not sick of me yet?”

“I was sick of you after you spilled the tea all over the table. But,” she paused to shrug and grab a second beer from the fridge. She handed it to him and continued, “now, I dunno, I’m kinda used to ya.”

“Alright, sleepover it is,” he chuckled and sipped at his beer.

He liked Y/N, a lot. Physical attraction aside, she was someone he enjoyed spending time with. She made things easy; the business talk, the ‘get-to-know-you’ banter, all of it. Y/N made just sitting on her floor looking at old pictures fun, and that wasn’t something he’d had much of in his life, as of late. All the drama, and push ‘n pull with Dee has sucked him dry. Fun and easy going hadn't been on his radar in a damn long time.

Jensen was growing more than a little curious about her. She was a mystifying puzzle that he felt compelled to put together so he could see the whole picture of who she was. Yet, he also knew that it wouldn’t be an easy task. Y/N didn’t strike him as the kind of girl that would give away all her secrets or feelings to just anyone. He was going to have to work on it, but if their day together so far had been an indication of her willingness to one day let him in, he felt pretty confident that they could be really good friends.

“So, I gotta ask…” he started, not exactly hesitant on asking, but on how to ask what he wanted to know. “Earlier, when you dared me to polar plunge… why add the song in?”

“Joy to the World?”

“Yeah.”

Y/N closed the album and drew in a subtle and slow deep breath, drawing her knees up into her chest then taking time to consider how to respond. In the quiet of the room, she found Jensen’s eyes and held on to them. He saw hers growing damp at the corners and watched her ignore the one, lone tear that slid down her cheek.

“When I was a kid, I had a bunch of phobias. Some were normal, some, not so much. It got really bad after a while, and my dad tried everything to help me. One day, we were going to the market, and for some reason I was so, so scared to go in. It was summer vacation, and I was gawky and awkward. A bunch of Bennies were hanging out in front and I was petrified to walk past them,” she saw the confusion on his face and clarified. “Bennies are what locals here call the people that come here for the summer.”

Jensen nodded in understanding and then unknowingly mimicked her position and rested his chin on his knees as he listened on.

“Anyway, he said to me… ‘they aren’t going to say a word. I promise’. I said that I didn’t believe him. Trust was scarce in those days. My mom had just left, and everything was upside down. So I even had trouble trusting my dad, the one person I loved more than anyone in the world. He said, ‘Y/N, I’ll bet you anything they don’t’. We finally came to the arrangement that if I was wrong and he was right, then I had to give him the benefit of the doubt the next time something like this came up.”

“And if you were right?” Jensen asked.

“Well, I then got to embarrass him in public by making him walk around and sing Joy to the World. It was the song he hated the most,” she laughed at some long ago memory that she kept to herself, and lingered in it for a while. “But, I don’t know, it just became our thing… he’d say trust me and when it was super important that I did, he would simply say, ‘I bet you Joy to the World that I’m right’.”

Y/N cleared her throat and tightened the grip she had around her legs. This time when she caught Jensen’s gaze, he noticed the tears had finished falling and that her soft smile was directed at him.

“That’s how I knew I could accept this offer and trust you. You did it without question. The fact that you sang the song and committed like you did… I knew my dad would’ve told me to trust you. He would have bet--”

“The world,” Jensen finished for her.

“Yeah. Exactly.”

“So, did he have to sing it that first day?”

Y/N chuckled. “Nope. They didn’t even give me a second glance as we walked by.”

“Did he ever have to sing it?”

She lapsed into her contemplative expression, but only for a moment before bringing up her alluring (y/c) eyes to meet his. “Only once. But that’s a story for another time. I think we should take the opportunity to talk about Austin and when this is all going to happen.”

For another hour Jensen and Y/N talked and planned her move to Austin. Exhaustion was finally setting in and neither of them could keep their eyes open. Y/N showed him to the spare room and turned to walk back up the hallway to her own room. Jensen said goodnight, and before he could turn to go it, he saw her pause at her door and look back at him.

“Jensen... I’m sorry if I was cold to you when we first met. I tend to put up a pretty high wall sometimes. I hope you didn’t take it personally.”

“I didn’t.”

“Ok, good. I’m glad the day went the way it did. You surprised me. Not many people can surprise me. I take back what I said earlier. You’re not a shitty actor,” she said with a playful twitch of a smile. “Night, Hollywood.”

Jensen woke a few hours after going to bed and while he wasn’t exactly rested, the four hours he got was enough to energize him to reach the airport. It was a long flight back to Vancouver after all, plenty of time to sleep then. He didn’t want to miss his last chance to see an East Coast sunrise.

Tiptoeing through the bungalow, so as not to wake Y/N, he quietly opened the front door and stepped out into the autumn air. The day was dawning bright with a cotton candy sunrise over the ocean and barely a cloud in sight.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he heard Y/N say.

He whipped around and saw her sitting on the small bench to the side of the house. She had a blanket around her shoulder and a steaming cup in her hands.

“Coffee?” she asked, holding it out to him.

“Bless you,” he sighed gratefully and took the cup. To his surprise, he found she took hers just how he liked his.

She moved over on the bench giving him room to sit and watch the sunrise. He closed his eyes and relished in the luscious taste of the coffee as it warmed his throat.

“Thank you,” he said, handing it back.

“Keep it, that was my third cup,” she chuckled, then reached over to the side of the bench and pulled up her guitar resting it on her lap and lightly strumming the strings.

“Won’t the neighbors complain?”

“They would, but there aren’t any. All these places are summer rentals. Closest year-round neighbors are the Sinatra’s down the beach.”

“Seriously? So, it's just you out here almost all year long?”

“Yup.” She nodded and continued to strum the guitar. The melody she was plucking was familiar, and after a few more beats Jensen came to recognize it.

“That song…” he started and then felt his heart start to beat faster as he realized where he remembered it from. “Its… shit!”

“Well, damn, tell me how you really feel,” she snorted, unsure if she should be offended or laugh.

“No! I Didn't mean it like that. I can’t remember the name of it, but it's familiar as hell. Actually heard it in a dream the other night,” he admitted without realizing how close he came to adding ‘a dream about you, in fact’.

“Oh! It's from Grease, You’re the One That I Want, but like, way slower,” she shrugged. “After talking about the play with you last night, it got stuck in my head. I couldn’t sleep, so I made coffee, grabbed the guitar and came outside to wait for sunrise.”

Y/N looked away from the guitar and over to Jensen. She watched him curiously for a moment, still playing, and with each passing note the song became clearer and clearer in his head. They held each other’s gaze for a moment, and he wondered if she felt whatever it was that sat between them. In the span of thirty seconds, he had at least a dozen “I wonder” thoughts cross his mind.

...if her heart is pounding, too

...if she dreamed the song, too

...if she couldn’t sleep because she was thinking about me like I was thinking about her

“I got chills, they’re multiplying, and I’m losing control,” she sang, in a breathy whisper that matched the volume of her guitar. “Cause the power you're supplying….”

Her voice gave him goosebumps across his skin, running from his wrist all the way to his neck.

She trailed off with singing but continued the humming the melody as she plucked the chords and brought her gaze to settle out on the horizon. Jensen wished she had kept singing; he wanted to beg her too, but he was afraid that speaking would break the magic of the moment.

From the other side of the yard, a loud buzzing was coming from Jensen’s car. His brow furrowed trying to recognize what it was, then suddenly jumped up and put the cup down on the bench before jogging through the cold sand to the car. When he came back, his cell was in hand as he was scrolling through messages.

“Completely forgot about this last night,” he mumbled to himself. “Yiiikes.”

“Missed a lot, did ya?” she asked, still strumming.

“Yeah. Looks like there was a change in my flight again. Jared has called at least half a dozen times, and about five texts from work. Good times.”

“Sorry I took you off the grid. Just blame me,” Y/N shrugged.

He watched her for a second and realized how carefree and easy she could be when she was comfortable around someone. There was an aura of calm that surrounded her at times and he wanted to absorb it like a sponge. He felt settled around her, and that was something he could get used too.

“I’m not even a little sorry, though, I guess I should get my ass in gear and get back. But…” he trailed off and went back to his phone, pulling up his calendar, “let’s figure out exactly when I should book your ticket to Austin.”

Y/N stopped strumming and gently rested the guitar on the ground beside the bench. She thought for a minute before replying. “I would need at least two weeks to get my shit together and tie up loose ends. So, let’s say, the 18th?”

“Yeah, that works for me. I may be in Vancouver, but I will make sure everything is all set for you.”

Before Y/N could say anything else, his phone started buzzing again. He answered it and began pacing between the house and the car. To give him some privacy, Y/N grabbed her guitar and went back into the bungalow.

Not five minutes later, Jensen came back inside and began to gather up the rest of his stuff to change, but she waved him off. “You can wear those back. Just junk them when you’re there. They belonged to my brother. Doubt he’ll be here anytime soon.”

“You sure?”

“Positive,” she snarked, making it clear brother Dave was a sore subject.

“Alright, well, I guess I should head back. I got the 18th in my calendar, and I will call you when I have more details about the flight and apartment. I’m really looking forward to working with you on this.”

“Same here,” she said and boosted herself to sitting on her kitchen counter. “It's gonna be a good time.”

Jensen had hoped she would see him to the door, and maybe even get a chance to touch her in some way; a handshake, maybe a hug, even. But she didn’t budge from the counter and he wasn't going to push her boundaries.

“Thanks for last night, the whole thing was a lot of fun.” Picking up the car keys from the table he moved towards the door, pausing one last time in hopes she’d come to him,

“It was my pleasure. The guys loved having you at the Bamboo. Save travels, ok? I’ll see you in two weeks.”

And just like that, Jensen felt discouraged, like maybe he had imagined their connection this whole time… had he? He tossed the keys up and caught them, and gave her a firm nod.

“Yes, I will. Two weeks. Take care, Y/N. We’ll talk soon.”

When he was sure she wouldn’t budge, he slipped out of the house and exhaled a rush of air from his lips when he reached the car. He got in, started it up and quickly backed down the dirt lane. Pausing before reversing out to the main drag, he threw it into park and rested his head against the headrest.

“You’re a jackass,” he mumbled to himself. “A grade A, idiotic, jackass.”

Hours later, while Jensen was mid-flight, pensive and unsure, obsessively replaying their entire day and night together, his cell phone started to vibrate from way down in his pocket. When he unlocked it and saw the text notification, he smiled.

From Y/N: “Hope you landed safely. Don’t wanna lose the job before it starts. Take care, Hollywood. Can’t wait for the 18th”

And just like that, he was smiling again.

Good new is, you don’t have to wait long for Part Four!! Its already done and ready to post. Will have it up soon :)

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[swanqueeneverafter]

29. Ariel, Pt.3

Neverland. Present. Inside Echo Cave. (Emma, Mary Margaret, David and Hook enter. On the other side of the cave, locked in a cage and unreachable because of a gap in the cave floor, is Neal.) Neal: “Emma!” Emma: “Neal.” Mary Margaret: “It must be a hundred feet across.” David: “Even if we fashioned some sort of rope, there's nothing to attach it to. No way to swing over.” Emma: “So what do we do?” Hook: “I told you what needs to be done. Consider this the moment of truth, literally. Now... who wants to kick things off?” Emma: “So, what? Someone tells their secret and they sprout wings?” Hook: “I don't know the particulars, only what I've been told.” David: “Well, how do you know it'll work?” (Hook takes a deep breath and turns to face Neal.) Hook: “There's only one way to find out, I suppose. (He turns back to face everyone:) I fancy Emma.” (Emma rolls her eyes.) David: “I warned you about that, Hook.” Mary Margaret: “David, now is not the time.” Emma: “How is that your darkest secret?” Hook: “It's not a small thing for me, I assure you. My secret is, I never thought I'd be capable of letting go of my first love... of my Milah... to believe that I could find someone else. That is, until I met you.” (The ground quakes and a large chunk of rock grows from the floor, forming a partial bridge to reach the part of the gave where Neal is.) David: “Uh... Mary Margaret...” Mary Margaret: “No, no, no. Me next. Ever since the curse broke, since we found each other, since we found Emma... And all of that happiness, there is something I haven't wanted to admit. Our daughter is a beautiful, smart, amazing woman whom I love very much, and of whom I could not be more proud. But she's all grown up. And... As much as I wanna pretend I'm okay with that, I'm not. We missed it, David. What we have with her is unique, but it's not what I wanted. We were cheated out of everything... her first step, her first word, her first smile. We missed it all.” David: “What are you saying?” Mary Margaret: “When we get off this island and get back to Storybrooke, I want another go at it. I wanna have another baby.” (The ground quakes and the bridge extends.) David: “Nothing in this world would make me happier, and I know with all my heart that you would make... An amazing mother. But it can never happen... At least not with me.”

Mary Margaret: “What do you mean?” David: “When Hook and I went to search for the sextant, he was really taking me to find a cure.” Mary Margaret: “A cure for what?” David: “Dreamshade.” Mary Margaret: “The lost boys, the arrow... you pushed me out of the way–” David: “–I wasn't fast enough. I was hit. Hook was able to find a cure, but it comes at a price. I can't leave Neverland. If I do, I'll die.” (The bridge finishes forming. Emma unsheathes her sword and carefully walks across. Half-way across, when she's sure it's sturdy, she runs the rest of the way and bends down to face Neal.) Emma: “You okay?” Neal: “Yeah. But Henry...” Emma: “I... It's okay. We're gonna take care of him. Just need to get you out of there first.” (She takes her sword and starts hacking at the bamboo bars, though she does no damage.) Neal: “Wha... Emma, Emma, Emma, Emma! (Emma stops:) You know that's not how this works. It's okay. You can tell me anything.”

Emma: (Kneels beside the cage and takes a deep breath:) “When Mary Margaret told me you might be here, and that you might still be alive, I knew I should be happy, but I wasn't. I know I told you back in Storybrooke that I forgive you for what happened between us, but I can’t. (Glances back at Mary Margaret before continuing:) My mom was so eager for us to find you and I didn't understand why until now. From the moment I saw you in New York, in the instant you stepped back in my life, I knew. I knew I'd never be able to feel the way I did about you like I did before. I know I should try to forgive you and I thought I could, at least for Henry’s sake, but I just can’t. There’s just too much pain, too much anger there. And my secret... Is that I’m terrified that I’ll never be able to fully forgive my parents for abandoning me like you did, for choosing each other, over me. Which is why I was hoping that this was a trick. I was hoping you were dead... (Tears falling:) Because it would be easier to put you behind me than to have another person in my life to remind me that I’m dispensable. To feel that at any moment I can be replaced. I didn’t want to face all the pain that I went through all over again.” (The bars of the cage dissolve, and Neal gets out and hugs Emma.) Outside Echo Cave. (As everyone emerges from the cave, Neal turns to face them all.) Neal: “Thank you.” David: “Well, don't thank us yet. We still have to save Henry.” Hook: “We found your star map, so the real question is, do you know how to get off this island?” Neal: “Well, if we can find Henry, I can get us home.” Hook: “Let's go get Tinker Bell and... retrieve the boy.” (He, Mary Margaret and David walk ahead, as Emma and Neal stay behind.) Emma: “You all right?” Neal: “Yeah, I'm fine.” Emma: “About what I said...” Neal: “Hey. Hey, Emma, it's okay.” Emma: “No, it's not. I wish I could change how I feel more than anything, but... I can't. I'm sorry.” Neal: “Don't be. After everything I've put you through, you don't ever have to apologize to me about how you feel. Hey, I'm glad you told me. I have a secret, too, Emma. I'm never gonna stop trying to make it up to you. Never.” (Neal walks away, and Hook is hiding behind the brush, having listened to the entire conversation. Transition to Mary Margaret and David up ahead.) David: (To Mary Margaret:) “Look, I know I should've told you...” Mary Margaret: “Don't. Just... not now.”

Maritime Kingdom. Past. The Beach. (Ariel is in the water, and Snow White crawls onto the shore.) Ariel: “I am so sorry, Snow. Are you okay?” Snow White: (She takes a deep breath:) “Yeah. I'm fine! But you need to go.” Ariel: “What?” Snow White: “Eric... tell him the truth. Go to him.” Ariel: “The caravan is probably long gone by now, and we're miles from the docks.” Snow White: “I saw how he looked at you at the ball. He'll wait as long as possible.” Ariel: “You think he's still there?” Snow White: “There is only one way to find out. Go!” Ariel: “Thank you, Snow!” Snow White: “Go! Just go!” (Ariel dives underwater.) Maritime Kingdom. Past. At The Castle. (Prince Eric is waiting on a balcony.) Man: “Your Highness... It's time.” Prince Eric: “Just a little longer.” (Ariel pops her head out of the water and sees Eric standing there waiting.) Ariel: (She moves her mouth to speak the following, but no noise comes out:) “Eric! (She touches her throat:) Eric! Eric? Eric? (Unable to hear her, Eric walks away) No, please, no, Eric!” (Eric leaves and Ariel shakes her head.) Evil Queen: “I told you there'd be no second chances. (Ariel looks up at the docks, where the Evil Queen is standing, looking down at her. The Evil Queen takes a seat:) Hmm? (Ariel touches her throat:) Oh, that. Your voice. I took it. The only thing worse about telling your prince how you feel and rejecting you is... Never telling him at all. Never knowing. Never even having... a chance at true love. That's right, dear. He's gone. Time to swim back home... Little mermaid.” (Ariel dives back underwater.) Enchanted Forest. Past. In The Dark Castle. (The Evil Queen is walking and then stops when she hears a voice coming from a full-length mirror.) Ursula: “Hello, Regina.” Evil Queen: “You. You're real?” Ursula: (Her tentacles emerge from the mirror and she wraps them tightly around the Evil Queen:) “Next time you claim to be me, you'll find out just how real I am.” Evil Queen: (As the tentacles tighten:) “Oh!” Ursula: “Don't ever do that again.” (She withdraws her tentacles.)

Neverland. Present. The Beach. (Regina and Gold are walking along the shore. Regina stops when she sees a conch, and picks it up.) Gold: “If you think summoning a giant squid is the answer, I've already tried that.” Regina: “Oh, you've had fun, haven't you? I have no intention of ordering calamari. (Regina whispers into the conch. Ariel surfaces from the water:) Hello, Ariel. Long time.” Gold: “It's true mermaids can travel across realms. But they can't be trusted.” Regina: “This one can. We have history together.” Gold: “Well, that would explain the distasteful look on her face.” Regina: “And now she's going to help us.” Ariel: (She mouths "no") Regina: “Oh, right, your voice.” (She waves her hand.) Ariel: “Why would I help you?” Regina: “Because I can give you what you want. (She puts out her hand, and the same bracelet from years ago appears in Ariel's hand:) I can give you legs, Ariel, and this time, control over them. But more importantly, I can give you what you need most.” Ariel: “What?” Regina: “The place I'm sending you... among its residents... is your Prince Eric.” Ariel: “What's the name of this place?” Regina: “Storybrooke.” Storybrooke. Five Days Ago... Mr. Gold: “You have to stay here.” Belle: “No! W... why? I... I... I wanna help.” Mr. Gold: “Well, Tamara wasn't working alone. Others will follow. (Hands Belle a small scroll:) It's a cloaking spell. It will shield the town, making it impossible for anyone to find.” Belle: “Well, then how... how will you find your way back to me? You're not coming back, are you?” Mr. Gold: “The prophecy. The boy is my undoing. But he's also my grandson. I must save him.” Belle: (Voice breaking:) “I understand. I also know... that the future isn't always what it seems. I will see you again.” Cut To: (Belle watches the Jolly Roger as it sinks into the portal to Neverland and disappears.) Leroy: (Running up:) “They did it! (Laughs:) They saved us! (Notices Belle:) They did save us, didn't they? Tears of joy?” Archie: “Belle, what is it?” Mother Superior: “Are you okay? What happened? Where is everyone?” Belle: “They stopped the trigger device. The woman who came... Tamara... she kidnapped Henry and took him through a portal.” Mother Superior: “A portal? To where?” Belle: “I... I don't know. Everyone else followed them on Hook's ship.” Leroy: “Why'd you stay behind?” Belle: “Because I had to.” (Pulls the scroll out of her pocket.) Mother Superior: (Steps forward and reads it:) “It's a cloaking spell. Why?” Belle: “Because Rumple said... He said others were coming.” Cut To: Somewhere Outside Storybrooke. (Two pale faced men drive along the road towards Storybrooke.)

Storybrooke. Mines. (The group from the docks now gather in the mines.) Leroy: “Who exactly does Gold think is coming?” Belle: “He didn't say specifically.” Archie: “Well, let's not panic. I mean, for all we know, it's a precaution. Right?” Belle: “Well, he... he did say they're working with the people who tried to destroy the town.” Leroy: “Can we panic now?” Archie: “Yeah. Sure. Maybe just a little.” Belle: “We'll be fine as long as we get this up in time.” Leroy: “Careful, sister. Mines are a dangerous place.” Belle: “Fairy dust.” Mother Superior: “It runs through the walls. We just need to open up a vein, and that'll carry the magic through town.” Leroy: “No time for whistlin', boys. Let's get swingin'.” (The Dwarves get to work mining for fairy dust.) Outside Storybrooke. (The two men drive ever closer toward Storybrooke’s town line.) Storybrooke. Mines. Leroy: “Halt! (Belle steps forward and readies the spell. She hesitates:) What is it?” Belle: “I... I've never cast a spell before. (Turns to Mother Superior:) Maybe you should do this.” Mother Superior: “No. Mr. Gold entrusted this task to you for a reason. You just need to believe in yourself.” Belle: (Whispers:) “Okay.” (She pours the vial’s contents into the exposed vein of fairy dust. Nothing happens.) Leroy: “You might wanna believe a little harder.” (Suddenly a trail of dust and light shoots from the vein, flowing out of the mines and throughout the town.) Outside Storybrooke. (The two men notice the protection spell falling over the town and speed up towards the line. They barely make it through and beyond the town line albeit without their car’s rear bumper.) Neverland. Present. (Mr. Gold is drawing rudimentary directions to Storybrooke in the sand.) Ariel: “That's Storybrooke?” Mr. Gold: “Can you get there?” Ariel: “It's far. I'll have to cross over realms. But yes, I can make it.” Mr. Gold: “If all went according to plan, (Leans down and picks up a seashell:) Storybrooke... will be surrounded by a cloaking spell. When you arrive, surface close to the shore. Then you're inside its bounds.” Ariel: “And what would you like me to bring back?” Mr. Gold: “An object to help us defeat Pan.” Ariel: “Well, I'm gonna need a little more than that to go on.” Mr. Gold: “No, I'm sorry. (Walking towards her:) Pan has ears everywhere. We can't risk telling you.” (He waves his hand over the shell, causing it to glow.) Ariel: “Then how?” Mr. Gold: “Find a woman named Belle, and then give her this. (Tosses it to the mermaid:) She'll know exactly what to do.” Ariel: “Belle. Storybrooke. Got it. (To Regina:) And Eric? Where will I find him in this new world?” Regina: “Well, that comes after you've succeeded. Incentives are important. The bracelet will only give you legs for 24 hours.” Ariel: “How do I know you'll uphold your end of the bargain when I'm back?” Regina: “Guess you'll just have to trust me.” (Ariel turns and dives into the water.)

Neverland. Pan’s Camp. (Pan and Felix sit around the campfire, whittling.) Felix: (Notices as Pan twitches:) "What is it?” Pan: (Exhales deeply:) “Someone's leaving Neverland.” Felix: “Where? How shall we stop them?” Pan: “Oh, It's too late. Don't worry, Felix. We simply need to get word to our friends on the ground.” Felix: “In Storybrooke?” Pan: “They can handle this. All it does is move up our timetable a touch. We need to get Henry ready. (Stands:) And I need to have a chat with our friend in the other cage.” Neverland. Operation Henry Camp. Emma: “Pan's shadow? That's your way off the island?” Neal: “Unfortunately, it's the only way.” David: “Oh. We thought you learned how to navigate the stars.” Neal: “I do know how to navigate the stars, but I can't fly.” Mary Margaret: “I'm guessing that's where the shadow comes in.” Neal: “That's why we have to capture it.” Emma: “Capture it? We've never been within ten feet of Pan unless he wanted us to be. Sneaking up on him to steal his shadow? That sounds insane.” Hook: “Except Pan's shadow is rarely with him. It's an entity unto itself. It can carry out his will from miles away.” David: “What does that mean for us?” Neal: “It means we can get his shadow without having to be anywhere near Pan... as long as we know where to look. I know where to look.” Emma: (Stands:) “Okay. You and I are on shadow duty.” Hook: “As am I. This trek won't be easy. You could use another veteran of the island.” Neal: “Thanks, man.” David: “Well, in the meantime, we'll give Tinker Bell a heads up, see if she can make good on her promise to get us into Pan's camp.” Emma: “Okay, we meet back at Tink's. Then we get Henry and get the hell back to Storybrooke.” David: “Okay.” (Neal, Emma & Hook head off in one direction as David offers a hand to Mary Margaret. She ignores him, stands and walks away. He sighs deeply and follows.)

[somethingmustbreak-project]

“You would like that we were not here. But we are too emotionally absorbed by the homesickness of places that we’ll see only from the windows of our Bentleys”

An environment seemingly unreachable: familiar to us as much as distant.

Paul Barsch Pierre Clement Michele Gabriele Andrew Birk Nuno Patrício Lucia Leuci Monia Ben Hamouda

With text contributions by Keiu Krikmann and Matteo Mottin. Concept, documentation, curation: Michele Gabriele.

She is driving, angry. She is driving, sad. She’s been driving for hours, nowhere in particular – post-fight. Highway, industrial landscape – in transit. By now, together with fading daylight her mind is turning soggy and dropping off, out of focus. Her eyes are on the road, thoughts floating around her; some circling back, again and again.

She’s worn out from the fight, her emotional state and the smothering synthetic smell in her car are stirring up something; the spiralling thoughts are gathering, she’s driving into a vortex.

Barely acknowledging it, she glimpses things she isn’t really sure are there, objects or images she can’t place – superfluous and not part of the landscape. A flash of blue sky, when it’s clearly getting dark. A round pattern, a bit detached and too close – what – doesn’t matter. The bitterness and chafed vibes from before and the stuffiness of the car are closing in on her – leaving little room for anything outside – pickled, probed and gray – ugh, can she even be??

All the fights she’s had in this car! Why do arguments always happen in the car? And then you are stuck in a wildfire in a tin box with no escape – that is just the worst.

With mom it had been long passive-aggressive streaks. Their fights were thick, like expired plasticine or shit, you couldn’t get it off of you, you couldn’t get the smell out. And the level of pettiness was unreal.

Something registered – like – she doesn’t – umm no.

And then, with her – heavy screaming, fights so intense they were physically exhausting. It had obviously not always been like that, but eventually she had grow to resent everything about her, she had grown to hate her hair in particular, sometimes at night she had thought she’s gonna cut her fucking hair off in a clump. Cut and run – just leave it – just –. Heavy beats, gasping for air. Get – get the – fuck – fuck – out – out of – my car. I don’t get mad!

A story so cliché she was embarrassed to admit it. Another unplaceable object faintly flickered in corner of her eye, or in her mind’s eye, or somewhere in-between.

She now knows for sure, this car is a vehicle of fights – she can’t get the exhaust fumes of confrontations out, everything is drenched in it. She needs a new car to vanquish the spirits. Somewhere along the road she has become like all those women laughing alone with salad, quietly gone mad – and she – will go off – blow off – up – and beyond. The neon letters are all fucked up, she can’t read the signs anymore. This one’s gone to the vortex.

– Keiu Krikmann

___________________________

Facebook THU 12.01.2017 – 2:14 PM

MG: Hello Matteo, I wanted to ask you if you could come visit me one of these days. There’s something I’d like to show you. MM: Sounds good! What’s that about? Where do you wanna meet? MG: Let’s meet at the Seregno’s trains station, early in the morning. Catch the first train you can. And let me know by what time you’ll be there. MM: I could be there next Wednesday. I’ll catch the train in Turin at 5.50 AM and I’ll be in Seregno by 7.30. How about that? MG: That’s great Matte! MM: What is this all about? MG: I’ve got a few things to show you. Telling you wouldn’t be the same. You must see them yourself.

Seregno WED 7:32 AM

MM: Hello there Michele, it’s so good to see you here, just like the first time we met, when I came for the studio visit. MG: There you are, of course I remember! Seregno never changes, like all these area actually. It waits for you but it never helps. MM: On that matter, what’s awaiting me in Seregno today? MG: We’re just leaving, we’re going to Milan. Please, get in the car. That’s no Bentley, some call it my wheelchair, but it’s still carrying me around. MM: Why are we going to Milan? Did you change your mind? I’d have waited for you there if you told me. MG: We must go there together. Shall we leave? MM: Do you mind if I keep this recorder on? MG: Not at all.

WED 7:48 AM

MG: Look at this tunnel here, it connects Brianza and Milan. I used to get stuck in traffic for hours to get to the city center before this was built. I believe it has had a strong influence on my production, esthetically speaking. Look at the colors. It’s new but still it looks like it’s been here forever. It’s one of the longest urban tunnels in Europe. It repeats itself over and over, same doors, same streetlights. This makes it look shorter but it’ll be around two kilometers long. MM: Wait a minute, what’s that? Did you see that? Just at the entrance of the tunnel. They looked like dreadlocks. MG: They are dreadlocks, tied up and thrown there. They recall a sitting person, if you’ve got that type of imaginary need. Still it looks like they fell there by chance. Has if someone threw them away, forgotten… MM: As if someone threw them from a running car. Can we go back to get a better look? MG: It’s better not to stop here, we must go on. Cars should be going at 90 km/h, but who’s driving that slow? MM: When we first met you used to have dreadlocks. I remember coming across Rastamen, they were always saluting you, beating their fist on their chest. It’s interesting how we found those dreadlocks right here in this tunnel, almost as if you left them behind to move faster to the city center… MG: Yes, I remember my dreadlocks! I didn’t think about that! You know Paul Barsch is keeping them? He made an artwork out of them and he exhibited them for the project Cielo Milano curated by him and Tilman Hornig months ago. Come on, let’s get out of here, let’s catch the first exit.

WED 8:11 AM

MM: Wait, slow down, there’s a small mouse! MG: Fuck that’s true! MM: Don’t squash it! MG: Yes, I’ll be careful. The Lambro river runs around here, that’s why it’s full of rats. MM: Ok, it crossed the road. Now it’s under those, ehm, twelve antennas? What are those twelve antennas on the wall for? MG: In this time of the year and this time of the day the light comes in a particularly white shade, desaturated and the objects outdoors look white just for a few minutes. Then the sky changes color and so do they. MM: That’s true, those objects usually keep a strong relationship with the sky, the weather and the light, even if placed like that, at that height, they look like they’re trying to show us a will to be listening and receiving in a place were, perhaps, there’s nothing interesting to be listening to. MG: I don’t know Matteo, surely antennas are usually above us, we all know them but we rarely get to see them close. Assembled with shamanic aesthetics, with bamboo canes and plumes, it look like they are ironically showing us two different clichès.

WED 8:23 AM

MM: The traffic is getting more intense, where are we? MG: We’re in the northernmost part of Milan. Let’s see if I can pull over. MM: Careful, the car in front of you is stopping, there’s something on the road. It looks like… is that salad? Wait, is that the work you made for the Bubble Tea show? MG: Yes, I better move it today or I’ll get in trouble. MM: What’s it doing hanging from the traffic divider? MG: Well, Matte… consider this as a guided tour. This is “You would like that we were not here. But we are too emotionally absorbed by the homesickness of places that we’ll see only from the windows of our Bentleys”: a group show. MM: You curated a group show setting up the works on the road from Brianza to Milan? MG: In a certain way, yes. Paul Barsch’s work is in the tunnel that, for me, links my house to Milan. But all the others are in the city. MM: Your works always have a lot to do with observing what surrounds them, and from that you develop them in a very sincere way, without being even bothered by the fact that the result might be disappointing. This work reminds me of the eating sculpture by Gianni Anselmo, only it looks faster: the lettuce is not withering, it’s being squeezed by the passing cars. What’s its title? MG: “Whity-Trashy vol.3 (I stay if you hold me tight)”. Lately, it’s as if I felt a lot more freedom in formally using the elements in my work almost carelessly.

WED 4:12 PM

MM: We’ve been driving all afternoon, but we haven’t come across any work for quite along time now. Is the show over? It’s almost sunset. MG: No, it’s not over yet but I thought we should have waited a little to see this one. Look up there! That’s “Clouds” by Andrew Birk. MM: It may be the time or the way you set it up, or maybe both, but that work looks extremely delicate and melancholy to me, as if it wanted to save an intimate and fleeting moment without telling us about it. MG: It’s been months now I’ve been observing the relationship between Andrew Birk and his work and I’m entranced by it. MM: Can you tell me more about it? MG: It’s the feeling I get, the number of canvases, the different ways of painting them. An erupting volcano. And every time he’s stripping himself down completely. Watching him working is amazing to me.

WED 6:35 PM

MM: Are you sure we can go this way? Isn’t it a private road? MG: Who cares. I’ve never seen anybody here. It gets you to a subway station. Can you hear the noise? MM: Yes, I must tell you it makes me shiver. These orange streetlights, they always made me claustrophobic. MG: Do they make you feel trapped even if we are outdoors? MM: Yes they do, they make me feel so… wait, there’s something next to that gate. Is it a painting? MG: Yes, a digitalized painting by Nuno Patricio. Its got a metal structure holding it to the ground. MM: It reminds me something I probably saw in a movie, but I can’t recall what it is now… MG: To me as well. Maybe it reminds me of a whole movie genre. When I was young I used to buy the weekly magazine “UFOs and Aliens”. Do you remember that? Buying it made me feel better than the others, one step closer to secret knowledge. MM: I was very fascinated by it as well, but then I remember thinking “if this stuff is that secret, then why can I get it so easily at the news-stand?”.

WED 10:36 PM

MG: The heating in my car comes and goes. Sorry about that, Matteo, I know it’s getting cold. Usually, it doesn’t work when it’s cold while it works perfectly when you don’t need it. MM: That’s what we’re gonna do: pull over as soon as you can, I’ll smoke a cigarette, I’ll be cold so that when we get back in the car it’ll be almost warm. MG: That sounds just about right.

WED 10:40 PM

MG: Alright, I’ll stop here. MM: Look, there’s something in the grass. They looks like tiny dolls. Hey, they’re Lucia Leuci’s from the exhibition at Tile Project Space! MG: I’ve chosen to exhibit some of the works from Lucia Leuci’s latest solo show. “Mamme Cattive e Bambini Creoli”. I’ve set them up here, among the grass in the dark. The concept of being creole upon which she’s been reflecting, the way in which she touches things. To me this really was one of last year’s most inspiring art works. Seeing them here, as if they were left behind, forgotten, moves me. MM: That may be because they’re so delicate. Seeing them here, in such an anonymous lawn, so close to the highway, conveys a strange feeling of danger, as if they were the ones in charge. MG: Probably, I’ve always felt as if they were the ones in danger, you know? MM: Maybe it is so. Maybe, because of how they were made, it’s very hard for them to find somewhere where they belong. Maybe they really don’t belong anywhere. MG:I feel represented. MM: Be careful, you’re getting too romantic. MG:Let’s go, there’s just one more work I want to show you. After that I’ll take you back to the station, it’s very late already and you might miss the last train back. MM: Will we make it or is it too dark allredy? MG: Of course we’ll make it. Everybody passing through the highway will see it with us.

WED 11:04 PM

MM: What song is this? I like it, can you turn the volume up? MG: “Reason” by Spooky Black. I’ve been listening to this kind of music a lot, lately. It’s called “sadboy music”, I think. MM: It really sounds like that.

WED 11:07PM

MM: Is that up there the work? I can’t really read what’s written upon it. MG: Yes, you to look at it for a while to understand it. You should get closer. MM: But now we’ve already moved past it, I couldn’t read it all. It’s a bit like it happens with songs, you get some of the words but you can’t understand it as a whole. MG: The font it’s written in is an art work by Monia Ben Hamouda, while the text is the verse from a song. “…Searching for wrong, so you can point your stubborn finger at me again, at me again…” MM: I see why it’s at the end of the show, it’s like the credits. MG: Yes, the credits. MM: When it comes to emotions, it’s always hard to keep the focus on who’s feeling them. It’s easier to identify with the emotion itself. And this has been a very emotional trip. MG: Thanks Matteo. MM: Thank you.

– Matteo Mottin in conversation with Michele Gabriele Something Must Break © 2017 All Rights Reserved.