Medalion Rahimi photographed by Lionel Deluy

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@nadiakazmi
Medalion Rahimi photographed by Lionel Deluy
viviansandvikâ:
âHow soon is too soon to set up your Christmas tree?â A small, wincing, smile creased across her lips, as if she were somewhat embarrassed to even be asking the question in the first place. âAsking for a friend, of course!â she quickly clarified, even though she was most definitely, one hundred percent, the friend.
Growing up, Nadiaâs family didnât celebrate Christmas in the traditional, Christian way. Her mom would put up a small treeâbarely even a meter tallâin commemoration of her own childhood holidays, but it didnât go up until Little Christmas Eve, and that was mainly it. No presents, no carols, and certainly no nagging anticipation to start decorating. She inhaled deeply as she tucked her hands into the back pockets of her jeans, then exhaled heavily enough to puff out her cheeks. âYou can tell your friend,â she started, âthat as long as itâs December, I donât see the big deal. The biggest issue is that itâll probably dry up and die by Christmas Day though, right? But I digress.â
omfgadamâ:
His lips peeled into a wide grin, eyes squinting off into the distance as he remained smug about her first point. It was true, she could have asked anybody else, but she hadnât. Now she was stuck with him for the day whether she liked to accept it or not. He basked in the glory of this; marinated even. âIâm between jobs,â He corrected her like always, and like always, got ignored as Nadia plowed through the conversation on her own terms. So he let her until she was done. âInteresting⊠Two weeks ago you were ready to force feed me a stale kebab and hope I choke⊠now you want to go into the meal-deal business with me. One might be suspicious youâre turning a new leafâŠâ
Nadia made a show of rolling her eyes, though she had to admitâokay, maybe not had to, but she was willing to, internally, to herself and to herself onlyâthat she wasnât nearly as put upon as she feigned being. The next hour promised waffles on a discount, for one, and for two: her workday was surprisingly fulfilling, or at least it didnât make her want to gouge her own eyeballs out at any point for once. She was, in a short description, in a pretty good mood. âItâs called having layers, Adam. Didnât you know? I contain multitudes,â she replied with an air of artificial intellectualism. âI can hope you choke a little and invite you to lunch. Iâm simply exhibiting my vast, complex â fucking emotions. Now, are you in or out?â
and i know no one will save me i just need someone to kiss give me one good honest kiss and iâll be alright
itsthepheebsterâ:
Maybe it was the booze in her system, or maybe it was the impending loneliness she felt every time she remembered that this, everything around her, this new life, it wasnât just a phase destined to end once she met some kind of goal. This was her life now. This person that she was trying to be, it was her phoenix from the ashes rendition. Maybe it didnât always feel natural, and maybe it felt like she was wearing a costume sometimes but it was what had to be done. Thatâs what she kept telling herself, itâs what her mother and her therapist kept telling her. And by God, did she get sick of pretending all the timeâŠ
âI know you canâŠâ Phoebe breathed, nose already blistering from the cold as she too, coated up. It was in that moment though that in her drunken, depressed stupor that Phoebe really looked at her friend for the answer. So what? So what if she told Nadia the reason she hadnât gone to the party tonight? So what if she knew why sheâd had to leave her hometown, or why she never touched people, or why she felt so guilty every single day of her miserable life? What, would she outcast her? Call her a freak? Nothing could be worse at this point than what Phoebe said or did to herself. Sheâd heard it all. âActually, youâre probably the only person that could handle⊠anything about what⊠I think Iâm going to tell you.â She declared, still slurring a little, taking a moment to gather her thoughts. âBut first â Iâm about to literally freeze to death, so can we just go back to yours and.. Iâll explain the whole thing.â
Nadiaâs interest piqued. She wasnât a bloodhound when it came to any kind of gossip, but she was intrigued by the way peopleâs minds workedâtheir stories, what made them operate the way they did. Though to say she was interested in all people would be too generous a statement. She liked those who were interesting, who had a passion and a drive. She was drawn to Phoebeâs creativity, in particular, and a certain hesitance in the way she held herself. Nadia saw a bit of herself in it and she understood where hers came from, but Phoebeâs was unknown to her. But with that interest came a degree of worry, especially in her state; it was hard not to be, her drunken mind conjuring a whirlwind of explanations, each one crazier than the last.
âOookay, okay,â she replied, wriggling her fingers in her pockets. âIâm honored, butâalso likeâŠâ She held up her hand, her thumb and forefinger nearly-pinched together. âA little concerned.â She went to nudge Phoebe with her elbow, though she purposefully missed her by a few inches, to direct her to take a left toward Nadiaâs place. The walk to her apartment was a fairly short one, as nothing in Kingsholm was that far from each other. As soon as they got to the door, Nadia fumbled with her keys in her haste for warmth. She used her heel to keep the door open and let Phoebe through, then quickly scaled the stairs to her apartment. As soon as she entered, she let out a sigh of relief, tossing her scarf onto her small kitchen table. âKarsk time, babyyyy,â she sing-songed, kicking off her shoes and heading toward her coffee maker. âIf things are gonna get serious, we need to prepare. You want sugar in yours?â
âThe wolf runs. It runs three legged, like all damaged creatures, across the snow. She thinks: this is true. She thinks: this is a life. She thinks: I do not want to die, but my life will always be like thisâwounded and animal, lurching against white.â
â Lidia Yuknavitch, The Small Backs of Children (via moral-disorder)
STATS
Name: Nadia Kazmi Nickname: Her father calls her Nooreh Chesham (âLight of my eyesâ) Age: Twenty-six Birthday: 28 December 1991 Zodiac: Capricorn Gender: Female Language(s): Norwegian, English, Farsi, and a little Russian Orientation: Lesbian Species: Human Nationality: Norwegian Religion: She has a very complicated relationship with religion. Her dad is Muslim and her mom converted to Islam before they married, but Nadia is mostly Agnostic. Health Disablities: N/A Distinguishing Marks: Freckles and a number of tattoos Drugs: Only weed Alcohol: Yes Smoke: Yes Traits: + Passionate + Shrewd + Self-sufficient + Cultured - Argumentative - Impatient - Snobbish - Insecure
SEND IN YOUR CONFESSIONS!
@nadiakazmi
Medalion Rahimi photographed by Jan-Willem Dikkers
omfgadamâ:
âAlright, weâre back. So whatâs this thing you needed me to do, or go to, or whatever?â He asked as they walked, having told them to put a quick pin in the converation until he was done inside with a client. Of course, heâd kept that little meeting private and brief, and now acted as if he was just carrying on his regular day like anybody else and he hadnât just made some privilated skeevy kidâs day. âOh, and my one condition. Next friday, you buy me one of those weird Norwegian tacos, but Iâll kill you if you put cucumber in it. Iâm never doing anything for you ever again if thereâs cucumber in it, kapiche?â
âOkay, well, first things first: I donât need you to do this. I could have easily asked someone else,â Nadia explained, tightening the scarf around her neck. âYou just happen to be one of the only people I know without an actual day job, which made you available.â She had gotten off work at two, with no real plans to work on tomorrow morningâs show until later in the afternoon, and for lunch she happened to want to take advantage of The Waffle Factoryâs special. Adam might not have been her absolute first choice for a lunch companion, but he was the second body she required. âAnd you need two people to, uhââ she snapped her fingers, struggling to remember the right word in English, âbe valid? Allowed? Whatever. You need two people to get the second meal free, so Iâm doing you a favor here. If we split the bill, weâre paying half as much as we usually would.â
medalion_r: mother leatherđč
itsthepheebsterâ:
If sheâd been of sound eyes and sound mind, Phoebe would have been more careful about what she simply dropped into a conversation around Nadia. If it hadnât been for the swishing of her brain cells inside her head, Phoebe would have known better than to even bring the Silver party up. Despite Nadiaâs sheer radiant sense of independence, she also could never leave bait alone. From past experience, she was a hook, line and sinker kind of girl â but Phoebe would never have the bravery to admit that to her face.
Watching as Nadia threw herself up mid-movie, Phoebe felt her gut plummet all of a sudden. Scrambling to collect her belongings and also follow Nadia to the exit, it wasnât until they were just outside it that Phoebe grabbed for her friendâs elbow to pull her back. It was unusual for her to use physical force of any kind, and for a moment, she felt a spark of adrenaline and fear shoot through her at the implications. But as Nadiaâs curls whirled around her head in sling-shot motion, Phoebe could only feel relief when no vision followed. Though she knew now more than ever that the moment was now tainted with even more suspicion. âNadiaâŠâ Her voice dropped into something soft. Something serious. âWe canât,â Phoebe said, a lilt of finality about her tone that tried to ensure her friend that this was the end of the road on the plan that hadnât even really begun. âLook, I canât explain it⊠Youâd think I was crazy if I did. But we canât go to the party. Or, wellâŠâ She hesitated. âYou canât go.â
Nadia stopped short when she felt Phoebeâs hand on her elbow, bristling slightly at the gentle manhandling. Being touched wasnât a foreign sensation in a general sense, but Nadia suddenly realized how unexpected it was coming from her friend. Her eyebrows shot up at the sound of the soft insistence in Phoebeâs voice; there was a thread of exhaustion in her tone that gave her pause, too. Nadia hummed contemplatively as she finished buttoning up her coat, a harsh wind whipping by them. She made the decision to delay things for a moment, or at least not totally plow her way into what she wanted. The seriousness of Phoebeâs words sounded like they were toeing the line of genuine upset, which, maybe to the surprise of some, wasnât actually Nadiaâs intention.
âOkay... fine, we can just go back to mine for now,â she finally said, briefly lifting her hands in mock-acquiescence in an attempt to bring levity. âSounds like a violation of my basic civil rights, but fine. I mostly just wanted to get out of that stuffy cave anyway.â She stepped off the curb to cross the street. âBut whatâs the worst that could happenâI get kicked out of there by some goons? Do you know how many protests I attended during university?â She scoffed, then snorted a short laugh when she nearly slipped on a patch of ice. Classic of Norway to storm right through autumn into winter. âI think I can handle the guys who peaked in high school they probably hired to act as security.â
Medalion Rahimi â Introducing Flesh
itsthepheebsterâ:
Phoebe could only roll her eyes, not having thought about the word until Nadia pulled her up on it. It didnât really happen much anymore, simply because being in a different country where people struggled to speak even basic English, Phoebe wasnât about to make it ten times harder by using words she knew nobody away from home would understand. But she was drunk, and with company she trusted. If Nadia was allowed to switch language mid-sentence, then Phoebe was going to throw her a couple of curve balls too. âI did!â She protested quickly, âIn fact, it was probably the first thing I thought, actually. But whatever, it was really exclusive, so I said I wouldnât go. We already planned a whole thing, itâs no biggie. Like before right now, Iâd even forgot about it.â Not entirely the truth, but a little lie never hurt anybody. âI wouldnât have been able to get you in anyway.â
Nadia pressed her lips together and playfully narrowed her eyes. The idea of some bougie party happening under her nose didnât much affect her as a plain statement. In a country like Norway, there often seemed to be at least a dozen privileged assholes whichever way you turnedâthis was especially true during her time in Oslo for universityâso some exclusive event? It wasnât that out of the ordinary, but it was a little odd for a small town like Kingsholm. But what also struck her was the fact that Phoebe was invited. Clearly no offense meant toward her friend, but Phoebe didnât typically scream the high society or influence needed to get into something quote-unquote really exclusive. Der er ugler i mosen, Nadia thought. There are owls in the bog. She grinned. âWell, we wonât know unless we try, will we?â she said then stood from her seat, only wobbling slightly, and nudged Phoebe to follow her. âIâm sure they have better drinks at this fancy party, anyway.â
SEND ME A SYMBOL FOR ANGST;
â: my muses reaction to opening their front door and seeing yours drenched in rain
âĄ: how my muse calms yours in a lightening storm while theyâre pulled over on the side of the road
â: my muse comforting yours while they get a tattoo
â: my museâs reaction to getting a phone call from the hospital about your muse
âŻ: what my muse says to yours after they havenât spoken for five hours since a fight
â: my museâs letter to yours that they left after they passed away
â°: my museâs reaction to watching yours die from afar
âż: my museâs reaction to leaving a cut on your museâs body
â: my museâs reaction to finding your muse bruised and beaten on their doorstep
â: my museâs reaction to finding drugs in your museâs handbag
âș: my muse protecting yours from a sleaze at the club
â : my museâs reaction to being told that your muse is missing, and presumed dead
âș: my muse finding yours on the side of the road, hours away from home
â: the last thing my muse says to yours before leaving for good
â: the voicemail my muse leaves on your phone when your muse hasnât been heard from for the fifth night this week
â: my muse comforting yours after the death of a loved one
â±: my museâs reaction to waking up to yours muse, beaten by mine, but my muse has no recollection of the night before
â: my museâs reaction to finding yours in a public bathroom, drugged and almost unconscious
SPECIFY WHICH MUSE ON MINE AND YOUR BEHALF
itsthepheebsterâ:
If her face hadnât felt hot and her brain wasnât sloshing around inside her head with the cocktail remnants of the thermos mug, Phoebe might have taken a shred of that to heart or fretted that maybe she was being too greedy in some sense of the word. But instead, she laughed, forgetting the sentiment almost as soon as sheâd heard it. âOh my god, I donât know, it was just a thing.â She whined, trying to fluff off the target practice Nadia was suddenly playing with her. Then again, Phoebe figured that casually mentioning the party might have made it less suspicious, only now realizing she might have done exactly the opposite. âLike⊠a Halloween party, or whatever. Nothing spesh. Also, I didnât know anyone else who was going so as if I was going to just turn up like some munted loser by myself.â
Nadia grinned as Phoebeâs tone veered toward whining. The idea of taking someone on as some personal pet project generally repulsed here but there was something worthwhile in pulling things out of Phoebe, in getting her to open up, even if merely came to some silly party she was apparently invited to. âHow quickly we forget the rules put in place about you and your kangaroo slang. Munted,â she repeated, though her natural pronunciation of the u, plus the drinks, left her fucking up the accent and basically pronouncing it moonted. She pulled out her phone to double-check the time, making a clicking sound with her tongue when 20:45 lit up the screen. Far too early for them to run out of booze, by her judgment. âIâm a little surprised you didnât consider dragging me into the bowels of this so-called âdumb, ânothing speshâ thing,â she continued, re-pocketing her phone as she shifted into a position that promised motion. âShould I be offended?â
francescatorresâ:
Circling in front of Nadia, the Investor did a small curtsey the moment they were faced to face. âThanks hun, I could say the same thing about yours.â At least someone appreciated her look and the way she sees it, the both of them seemed to have nailed their looks. âI didnât think Kingsholm would contain PTA-esque mothers.â The Whisper shook her head in a disappointed manner, âRight? I was thinking the exact same thing. Thereâs so much shit on TV and with the Internet on top of that? Kids are probably watching a ton of crap thatâs far worse than what Iâm wearing. Anyways, I just think the motherâs are jealous they canât pull this off. Itâs so simple too.âÂ
Her attention diverted to the crowds of people gathered to watch the films. âWow, I donât know if I should congratulate or be sorry for you.â teased Francesca as she laughed. âAll jokes aside, thatâs really sweet of you. You deserve all the treats.â Returning her gaze on Nadia, she playfully rolled her eyes at her inquiry. âOh I am super stoked.â she sarcastically replied. âIâm more adventurousâŠThe thought of sitting still after countless movies doesnât sound too appealing.âÂ
âYou canât throw a rock without hitting at least three self-righteous white women,â Nadia replied, shrugging as she eyed the rest of the food selection. She tried to remember what Phoebe asked for, but it was proving momentarily difficult. Cookie? Brownie? Candy? It all amounted the same frightening amount of sugar anyway, so she figured it might not be too bad if she got it wrong on the first go. She tapped her fingers against the table, then shot Francesca a sharp smile. âHey, they can spend their night giving you shit and eyeing you in envy because they hate every single thing those kids did to absolutely wreck their bodies â blah blah blah. But at the end of the day, youâre not one who thought squeezing out two-point-five babies is what you needed to be happy. Theyâre just boring people.â
She wet her lips to catch the remnants of the sugar confection that clung to them. âIâm happy to take both the congratulations and sympathy. Any validation is welcome,â she replied, though she didnât actually hate-hate having to be there. An opportunity to spend time with Phoebe wasnât time wasted and â well, if she was also given the opportunity to chat with a woman like Francesca in one fell swoop, then who was she to harbor resentment? She glanced back down at the assortment before them and then on impulse gestured toward the plate of Serinakaker with her free hand. âAnd if thatâs the game weâre playing, then could I have three of those?â As she waited for Francesca to ready them, she briefly tilted her head in surprised interest. âReally? Is there any kind of movie youâre happy to park your ass for?â