#(yeah for sure; have the guy who struggles with establishing relationships only experience attraction through a deep emotional bond)

[invinciblerodent]

I snoopes around your old tags aand I am a little in love with Harwen

Aaaah, thank you, I'm so happy you like him! ❤️❤️

I've been thinking about him a lot this Veilguard eve too, kinda revisiting him (and some of my other, "non-canon" guys, especially vis a vis the Themes™ and how they continue through the new guys), and for what it's worth... I think that for a character I made when I was only like 22, he still works pretty well!

I would probably do a few things differently now, more consciously, but, I mean... I still think that the "reclusive, introverted, gray-ace-but-specifically-demisexual Dalish assassin-strategist Experiencing Cultural Divide And Alienation" is still a fun concept that I really like!

.... I have also been toying around a bit with mods for the BG3 cc, to try and make (among others) him an updated face for the Veilguard timeskip too, and um.

the "Vallaslin" and the nose on this one are not quite right (the Vallaslin is supposed to be Andruil's, and his nose is supposed to be a bit hooked, kind of aquiline), but in his mid- to late forties? There's no way Harwen isn't gonna be dilfy. A positively dilfy elf.

(This is, I believe, is Shadowheart's dad's face, and he's an assassin-spec archer rogue in Dragon Age canon, but I think he'd be more of a hunter-, or gloom stalker-subclass Ranger in real DnD.)

[1337wtfomgbbq]

I gotta rant for a second here. I hate this app. Okay maybe not this whole app, more the people on here. Specifically the people in the supernatural community. Yes talking to you. I can’t believe I’m even back into this with you guys.

I know people can pick and chose which characters they like and which they dislike. I know, for some trauma and whathaveyou also plays into what they feel towards a character.

But I am just so mad. I’m on a little bit of a rewatch, as you are, of season 1 to 3 (maybe some episodes of 4 and 5) because those are the only good seasons, and I just wanna look at some posts of my favorite character.

But my favorite character happens to be John.

TLDR: John's character is complex as fuck and people like to oversimplify and villify him, for no reason other than „BuT My DaAAadYY WaS ShiTTy!!!!“

And I get it. People on here disregard season 1-3, even the writers disregarded what JDM wanted John to be: “I don’t think he’s as screwed-up as other people do,” Morgan told EW. “I think he is a guy who’s got a tremendous amount of love for his family. He was willing to die for his sons, willing to put himself in a place to where he could lose his life for revenge on what killed his wife. So as much has been said about John or that I’ve heard about John, I think what is missing is that he shows love in different ways. Maybe he wasn’t a big hugger and he didn’t say the right things when he should’ve — and there’s a bigger picture about getting your kids into hunting ghosts that I should acknowledge — but I think at his core he really loved his family and was willing to sacrifice everything. So I never looked or played John in a way that there was any malice toward his sons.”

People project what went wrong in their lifes and with their fathers on this app SO HARD. To be fair they do that everywhere. But it's so infuriating when it's done to a character you love so much.

And as much as I wanna be understanding I am just so pissed.

Hear me out: Back when I first started watching supernatural (I was fucking 12 back then, can you believe that) and my friend was all „OMG Sam is such a treat. He's mine!“ I thought, okay I'm gonna take Dean then.

The coin finally dropped on me in 'Shadow' and I realized „Heck, screw Dean, I'm taking John!“ (Not that I told my friend that, LOL. I hadn't realized just then that I prefer older guys)

And attraction is one thing, but the character spoke to me on such a deep level too. I mean, you got a dude whos wife died in a way that he cannot explain in a rational way, only to have his eyes opened to the supernatural by Missouri. And it turns out whatever killed his wife also did some fucked up shit to his kid and is after, not only his youngest but, all of them.

So he's forced to take his kids on the run. But, he's also an ex-marine, he's a soldier and he can't leave other people to die at the hands and claws and teeth of monsters and ghosts and strigas and whathaveyou. Which leaves him struggling to ballance protecting and caring for his kids and saving people and hunting things, AND finding the thing that killed his wife.

The way John's situation was set up (ignoring for a second what we learn in later seasons) and the way Sam was brought up by him created a relationship that was bound to escalate; it was only a matter of time.

Season 1 to 3 we got a John that was distant and rough, but a John that recognized he fucked up along the way and who saught to rectify where he went wrong with his boys.

Season 1 episode 20: „You gotta understand something. After your mother passed all I saw was evil, everywhere. And all I cared about was keeping you boys alive. I wanted you...prepared. Ready. Except somewhere along the line I ... uh ... I stopped being your father and I ... I became your, your drill sergeant. So when you said that you wanted to go away to school, all I could think about, my only thought was, that you were gonna be alone. Vulnerable. Sammy, it just... it never occurred to me what you wanted. I just couldn't accept the fact that you and me -- We're just different.“

And guess what, Sam admits seconds later: „We're not different. Not anymore. With what happened to Mom and Jess... Well we probably have a lot more in common than just about anyone.“

Season 1 episode 21: „I want to stop losing people we love. I want you to go to school, I want Dean to have a home. I want....I want Mary alive. It's just....I just want this to be over.“

John literally on the show in person, Jeffrey Dean Morgan Season 1, admits that he didn't want ANYTHING OF WHAT HAPPENED, AND WHAT HE HAD TO DO TO HAPPEN!!!!

Sure, Sam suggested to Dean that John's just „working overtime on Miller Time shift. He'll stumble back in sooner or later“ in the very first episode but we never see John drink alcohol, for all he's on screen in season one, ONCE. (1x1) Suggesting that John did have a drinking problem but somewhere between Sam going off to college and the pilot he kicked that habit.

Sure, Sam is clearly vindictive BUT, when faced with a kid with a clearly abusive father, he also says that, „Well, it coulda gone a whole other way after Mom. A little more tequila and a little less demon hunting and we coulda had Max' childhood. All things considered, we turned out okay. Thanks to him.“ (1x14)

We see him cry on multible occasions in season one and two, we see him hug both Sam and Dean and tell BOTH OF THEM that he is proud of them. Heck, he couldn't shut up about how proud he was of them. Like Jerry told Sam in 1x4 „Well, he was real proud of you. I could tell, He talked about you all the time.“ He kept Sam's soccer trophie, and Dean's first sawed off. He fucking died to safe Dean.

Yeah, he told Dean that he'd have to kill Sam if he goes evil but...

Let's take into consideration season 4 and 5, and John wasn't all too wrong for telling Dean this. Even if we ignore all that, as John probably didn't have the full picture, John didn't knew the extend of Sam's powers. As is always said, „With great power comes great responsibility“. We have seen in comics, shows, movies, all over pop culture and history, how easily great power can corrupt, don't matter how nice and righteous that person is.

Let's take into consideration what was added in season 4 and 5: Like John having another family, the fact that cupid had to get him and Mary together, Mary making a deal with Azazel, the few demons (not even all of them) Lucifer showed Sam who had been put into his life by yellow eyes; even that just adds more credence to the already established character.

Of course John was bound to have flings after Mary, you can't expect a widower to just be celibate forever. And it wasn't even that he bailed on her, he literally didn't know there was a child until twelve years later.

And considering John's erratic 'work schedule' and how little we know of Kate, maybe it was her that wanted John not to have much contact to her son. The whole situation with Adam isn't exactly clear, and told through the eyes of a ghoul. Plus, we all saw where John's decision to leave Adam in the dark about the supernatural had him end up (namely killed by a ghoul).

The fact that cupid had to get John and Mary together only gives more ammunition for my argument that John was only working with what was given to him. Pretty much everyone from hell to heaven was meddling in his life.

Getting ahead with headcanons here but, for all we know John and Mary would've never ended up together; for all we know Mary was a lesbian and John was bi; for all we know they could've still worked out without cupid's help. Who knows? We don't because heaven took that decision away from both John and Mary.

The fact that Mary made a deal with Azazel to safe John's life in exchange for Azazel to be able to enter her home in ten years time, again, caused something to happen down the line that affected John and the boys that John had no control over.

And I gotta thank Lucifer for his part, because it gives EVEN MORE credence as to why John couldn't give Dean and Sam a normal life. He reveals SOME of the people Azazel planted into Sam's life that were actually possessed by demons.

„LUCIFER: Look closely. None of these little devils look familiar to you? SAM: That's Mr. Bensman... One of my grade-school teachers. LUCIFER: And that's your friend Doug from that time in East Lansing. And Rachel... your prom date. Sam Winchester, this is your life. Azazel's gang – watching you since you were a rugrat, jerking you around like a dog on a leash. I know how you feel about them. Me too. So, what do you say you and I blow off a little steam?“ (5x22)

A few episodes earlier we found out that his friend Brady, the one that introduced him to Jess, was actually possessed by a demon, and the one that fucking killed her.

„BRADY (chuckles): Brady hasn't been Brady in years. Not since, oh... middle of our sophomore year?

SAM: What?

BRADY: That's right. You had a devil on your shoulder even back then. All right, now, let it all sink in.

SAM: You son of a bitch. You son of a bitch! (Sam approaches Brady, Dean holds him back) You introduced me to Jess!

BRADY: Ding, ding! I think he's got it!“ (5x20)

All of this paints a clear picture for me, of a man that got played by fate and heaven and hell and was only trying to play the cards all of them dealt him to the best of his ability. Did he fuck up along the way, yes, did he show remorse for that and did he wish he could've given Sam and Dean a better life, Yes.

I completely understand people liking one character and disliking another, even projecting onto characters I get. And I get that people's life experiances lead them to different conclusions.

But it pisses me off so much that I can't go into the 'John Winchester' tag without having to read some shit as fuck take on John.

I have to read people saying that he never told Dean he was proud of him and that the only time he did so he was possessed by Azazel. Which isn't even true, but a motherfucking lie.

Season 2, episode 1; when John WASN'T POSSESSED ANYMORE he said to Dean: „You know, when you were a kid... I'd come home from a hunt. And after what I'd seen... I'd be wrecked. And you... You'd come up to me... you'd put your hand on my shoulder, and you'd look me in the eye. You'd say, "It's okay, Dad." Dean. I'm sorry. You shouldn't have to say that to me. I should've been saying that to you. You know, I put... I put too much on your shoulders. I made you grow up too fast. You took care of Sam, and you took care of me. You did that. And you didn't complain, not once. I just want you to know... that I am so proud of you.“

I have to read people forget or disregard that John was literally a righteous man. Alastair tried to break John and John didn't break for a century and then clawed his way OUT OF HELL TO SAFE HIS SONS IN 2x22. John must've had righteousness in heaven (which would come through faith in Jesus) and righteousness on earth (which would come through living through the commandments) as long as that's what the writers meant with 'righteous man'.

I have to read stuff John would apparently do only because we learn in 'Dark side of the Moon' that John and Mary's marriage wasn't all sunshine and rainbows and that John even moved out for a period. Even though we don't know who caused that fight and what it was about, literally it could've been Mary's fault and John only left to cool off. And even if not, marriages aren't just sunshines and rainbows. Fights happen, bad stuff is worked out. That would be true even without the cupid spell.

I have to read someone projecting their experiance with their father onto John. I have to read about someone saying John would've been such a dick because he was in the military and fought in the vietnam war, and we all know that's what all sodiers back then were (dicks). I have to read about how homophobic and transphobic John obviously was. I have to read about how much John would've been racist to Sam and Dean if they'd been mixed.

John was born in 1954, he has to be homophobic and transphobic and racist and bigoted and everthing you can think of. It can't be possible for someone to be born during that time and not be, right. (I hope you recognize the sarcasm)

Everybody is screaming 'child abuse' as loud as they can without taking into account the unique world those characters inhabit and the situation fate, heaven and hell put John and the boys into.

Dean could dig himself out of his grave because John used to bury them alive and had them dig their way out of a coffin as training!!!? Are yall good?? Literally what did your parents do to you, what went wront in your life that you think shit like this?!

And I get it, you can headcanon all you want. I myself headcanon John as bi and that Azazel knew and used this fact.

The writers did John so dirty in later seasons, and I'm not even alone in this, JDM agrees with me.

„But it always bugged me that the John that I played is different than the John that has been portrayed since I haven't been around. I really wanted the opportunity to be able to come back and make amends in a way and try to fix the sullied name of this character. But more than that, it's three friends, life lived. It feels like we've been friends for a lifetime now, getting to reunite in a place that we love and that we met and do what we do and I think that is super cool. So not only does John win in getting to come back and see his boys and Mary again and hopefully make some amends, it's just as cool for me, the actor, to be able to come back and see everybody.“

I'm sorry, but if Snape fans are allowed to be pissed about people suggesting Snape would've been creeping on Harry if he had been female and looked like Lilly, I can be pissed about everybody and their grandma in this fucking fandom painting John in the worst light possible.

JDM created such a great character with depth and who was interesting, even in season 4 and 5 they were still respectfull to his character, but the later seasons were just *throws up *

And I mean, I get it, I disregard canon too. Like, I disregard everything after season 5, that's Sam hallucinating in hell to me. Sometimes even after season 3, cause I don't feel like dealing with the angels, and cas and destiel and all that.

I get it, I get it, I get it.

But I too have the right to be pissed off about the way people like to shit on my fav.

Long story short, I love John and how complex and grey his character is and I HATE IT how simple and 'black and white' people wanna make him out to be. I wanna punch a bitch. I wanna throw hands right now.

[admiralty-xfd]

the whole truth

The epic Diana Fowley saga is here! 

I’ve posted the first chapter here, but you can read the entire thing on AO3. PLEASE read my author’s notes if you’re skeptical about this story. I promise, it’s all about the MSR.

“I have lived with a fragile faith built on the ether of vague memories from an experience that I can neither prove nor explain. 

When I was twelve, my sister was taken from me, taken from our home by a force that I came to believe was extraterrestrial. This belief sustained me, fueling a quest for truths that were as elusive as the memory itself. 

To believe as passionately as I did was not without sacrifice, but I always accepted the risks… to my career, my reputation, my relationships… to life itself.”

-Fox Mulder, “The Blessing Way”

prologue

She should have known from the moment she first saw them together that she never stood a chance.

She’d suspected it for a while. Call it women’s intuition. She hadn’t let many men into her life over the years but she knew Fox Mulder well, and from the moment she met that other woman she felt a cold chill wrap around her heart; a sense of inevitability, a sense of doom.

A sense of loss.

Knowing that loss intuitively was very different than witnessing it with her own eyes. She’d once again been losing the man she already lost years ago, piece by piece, ever since he came back into her life. Seeing him with the woman she now knew he truly loved only dug the knife in deeper.

On every other occasion she’d seen them together they tried to hide it; from each other, from themselves. But here and now, alone in this corridor where they thought no one was watching, she watched. And she saw.

She saw Agent Scully’s hand on the back of his neck, her other on his stomach, and she saw Fox’s arm around her waist. She saw her struggling to support his weight; a woman so petite she had to use every ounce of her strength to keep him upright. They were grasping onto one another like actual, physical lifelines. She saw love. She saw devotion.

And she saw trust.

It might not have been simple from the inside, as these things rarely are. But from the outside looking in, she’d never in her life seen two people so wholly immersed in one another.

Her own relationship with Fox had never been clean or simple. But she now realized it had never mattered. She now knew the one thing he’d needed from her above anything else was the one thing he never had: trust. And she could never truly give him that, because no matter what either of them wanted, no matter how much she loved him, everything between them began as a lie and now he could be absolutely certain of that; he’d read her thoughts. He knew the truth. Neither of them had much choice in the matter.

The grainy surveillance photographs in her hands were visual confirmation that her chickens had indeed come home to roost, that everything she’d struggled for over the past decade had been worth nothing in the end, nothing at all. Her own moral compass had been out of whack for so long it was hard for her to know which way was up anymore, what she was doing for herself, for Fox, for the project, for the world. She’d fought for a way out of this existence, but failed. In doing so she had chosen Fox’s fate, all the while believing he’d have chosen the same.

Would Fox have chosen this? She’d hoped it was true; she’d hoped that the truth they’d both sought for so long was worth all of this, worth everything. 

But she’d been wrong. He was worth more to Agent Scully than proof, than truth, than answers... than any of it in the end, and that made all the difference. 

Diana Fowley felt the tight grip of strong fingers curl around her shoulders, forcing her to look at the photographs of Agents Mulder and Scully escaping the facility with the keycard she had provided. Forcing her to feel her heart breaking all over again. 

What she’d done in the end for Fox was right, she knew that much. But it was too late for her now. And she would pay dearly this time.

Chapter 1: The Lie

THE MAJESTIC

ALEXANDRIA, VA

DECEMBER 1987

She spied him across the bar, two, maybe three drinks deep already. Twirling a long strand of dark brown hair around her finger, she sipped her Manhattan and formulated a plan of attack.

She got up and moved until she was two seats down from him, not glancing in his direction, and asked the bartender for another drink. She didn’t budge until she was certain the young man’s eyes were on her, and that task didn’t take long.

Her head swiveled and she smiled, her eyelids at half-mast. He grinned back. Works every time. Men were so insanely easy to work, it was a fucking marvel women weren’t running the world by now. 

It was the first time she was seeing this one’s face clearly. He looked slightly drunk; his hair was mussed, and his tie was undone. His sleeves were rolled up to the crooks of his elbows and she pegged him as a lonely man who didn’t spend much quality time in the company of women, at least, not much of the kind of quality time she was seeking this evening.

It had been a few weeks since she’d gone out looking for this kind of company, but he seemed to fit the bill nicely. He was a few years younger than her, and she could tell by his eyes that he was intelligent. It was a talent of hers; looking into another person’s eyes told her pretty much everything she wanted to know. 

Most importantly for her purposes, she noticed, he was drop dead gorgeous.

“Hi,” he said. She smiled. 

It was her favorite opening line.

“Rough day?” she asked. It felt apropos. 

He turned back to his drink, which was clear, whatever it was, and picked up the glass, shaking it. The ice jangled like an alarm bell.

“You don’t know the half of it,” he replied. 

The bartender set a fresh drink in front of her and she lifted it to her lips. “You’re right, I wouldn’t know. I’m only here for the scenery,” she smirked.

“I’m sorry. This isn’t a ‘thing’ for me, typically. I’m not much of a drinker.” He smiled warmly at her. 

She felt comfortable, she felt safe. She figured he was being honest; he didn’t seem like your typical drunk in a bar.

“Me neither, it’s just… been a day.”

“Oh yeah, you too?” he grinned. “What’s a woman like you doing in…” he trailed off, gesturing around.

“... The nicest bar in the city?” she finished, smirking again.

“Well, yeah,” he chuckled, a bit abashed. It was a nice establishment, nicer than most. Alexandria wasn’t the worst place to go to a bar alone.

“Um… you know. Work… stuff.” She rarely elaborated on her work with men at bars. Quite frankly, most of them were too stupid to understand any of it. The more attractive they were, the less interested they seemed. She was here tonight for only one reason.

“What is it you do?” He looked genuinely interested and she liked him instantly.

“Mostly research,” she lied, smoothly. She wasn’t about to tell a stranger she actually worked for the Federal Bureau of Investigation. “I study criminology, and other social sciences.”

“Criminology?” He looked surprised. “Are you a detective?”

“No,” she answered quickly. It wasn’t technically a lie, but she still felt guilty for misleading him. “Just research. Studying human behaviors and such.”

“That sounds… very interesting.” He narrowed his eyes at her. She believed he meant it.

“Can I buy you another drink?” she asked him.

“A modern woman,” he said. “I like it.”

She grinned and scooted over until she was next to him. She gestured to the bartender, who obliged, setting another glass of whatever it was he was drinking in front of him.

“How about you? What’s made your day rough?” she inquired.

“I’d actually rather not say, if it’s all the same to you,” he said, making a face and holding his glass up. She didn’t mind at all. The less personal stuff she knew about him, the better.

“Fine by me,” she replied and clinked his glass.

“Maybe we can talk some more about you,” he said with a smile that made her melt a little bit. Just a little bit. Everything was going exactly the way she’d planned. The only hiccup was that, for some reason that she couldn’t quite put her finger on, she kind of liked him. Maybe too much.

She grinned, taking a sip of her drink. “If you say so.”

She hooked her toe behind his calf and eyed him, not wanting her intentions to be misunderstood. It was brazen, but so was she. He was attractive and he liked her; she had no reason to look any further tonight. And his own eyes locked onto hers as he wordlessly agreed.

***

The door flew open in a flurry of activity; her mouth pressed against his and his keys falling to the floor. Pieces of their clothing were discarded one by one and through her mind ran the mantra this is not smart, this is not smart. It had only taken an hour for her to realize how much she had already developed a fondness for him. Even though she was here to do exactly what she came to do, she was worried. 

“I don’t usually bring strangers home with me from bars, I think you should know,” he murmured against her neck. 

She looked past him into his apartment, taking note of what she saw. It appeared to be a typical ‘single guy’ apartment, the difference being the clutter. Most men she let take her back to their places had very few possessions, either a remnant of some bad breakup or a product of limited imagination. This guy’s living room was absolutely full of books, papers, and a plethora of materials that surely crowded every corner of his mind as much as they did the room. It didn’t look unclean, just untidy. She smiled at the knowledge she’d pegged him right: he was smart. And lonely.

“I’m sorry about the mess,” he suddenly said, pulling back and looking around, his hand going to the back of his neck. He glanced behind him. “I wasn’t expecting company. To be honest, I rarely have… company.”

She took his face in her hands, regarding him. She already knew he was attractive, but there was something in his eyes that drew her in deeper. She was entranced by his intellect; she had been all evening. He’d listened to her and responded with genuine curiosity. He wasn’t like the other men she typically met in bars. It was strange and captivating and she knew she should resist but she could not.

It was for this reason she reminded herself tonight had to be about sex. Just about sex.

“I don’t know your name,” he said. “I’m Fox-”

“Don’t,” she shook her head. Names would make it harder. But then she had to ask. “Fox? Really?” For some reason this strange name only made him more attractive to her. “How’d you end up with that one?”

“Wish I knew,” he laughed. 

“I like it,” she admitted. She did. “Fox.”

And with that, he led her into the bedroom. There were no more words. It felt as if they had an unspoken agreement this would be about tonight, about right now. It was the way she wanted it, the way she always preferred it. 

Usually she would leave right afterwards. But this time, after it was over, he pulled her into him close and she let him. She felt oddly compelled to stay next to him all night. It was probably a mistake, as nearly every part of her was telling her, but she didn’t listen.

When she awoke he was lying on the other side of the bed, sprawled comfortably, and she watched him sleep. She wondered if perhaps she’d sold this one short. Their bodies had agreed, and he fascinated her, he aroused her own intellect. She softly ran her hand across his brow and his eyelids twitched. 

This could be something, really something.

But then her thoughts turned back to her work. It was where she defaulted when things got too difficult, too personal. She had her reasons for keeping things simple.

She slid out of the bed and gathered her clothes, putting them on piece by piece, completely unashamed of this particular walk of shame. But before she could reach the front door he appeared in his bedroom doorway.

“Leaving already?”

She sighed. “I have to get home.” He approached her, pulling on some sweatpants.

“Did I… do something to offend you?”

Poor thing, she thought. He hasn’t done this before.

“No, I had a great time,” she replied. “I just… have to go now, okay?”

“Can I at least have your name?” He looked so disappointed, standing there. Hair tousled, his naïveté dangling on the sleeve he wasn’t wearing. She’d feel sorry for him if he weren’t so goddamn attractive. Surely he’d bounce back.

It was harder to leave than she wanted it to be. And for that reason, she opened the door, looked back over her shoulder, and before closing it again she smiled at him, offering just two parting words. 

“Goodbye, Fox.” 

WASHINGTON, D.C. FIELD OFFICE (WFO)

601 4TH ST NW

FEBRUARY 1988

Weeks passed, and Diana poured herself into her work. Losing herself in the world of the fantastic was the best escape possible and she felt fortunate she had the freedom to do so. 

She had a degree in psychology and had completed her FBI training, trying her hand in both instructing at Quantico and working in the field. But she soon realized her talents and expertise could be better utilized in other ways; so she became an Intelligence Analyst. 

Luckily, this was the perfect job for her to explore the things that interested her most, namely the human brain and its many mysteries. Generous donors had supplied her the means to do so where many others at the Bureau could not. She was a self-admitted workaholic, and although she enjoyed her work immensely, it was quite stressful and filled her life to the brim.

Time passed and she filled her days with the work and her nights with thoughts of the work. Most of the time these thoughts were undisturbed. But snippets of a one night stand that had ended too abruptly would occasionally resurface. 

After she left that apartment he’d been reduced to two words: the fox. And at the back of her mind there existed a burrow, a small space that was dark and deep and dangerous. It was where the fox lived and held on. 

She thought about that night with him a lot. Too much. She hadn’t been affected this way by a man in a long time and it bothered her that she couldn’t let this one go. 

She told herself it was ridiculous; that even if she had space in her life for a relationship, the timing couldn’t be worse. And it wasn’t as if she could find him again anyway, even if she wanted to. She felt a bit guilty for leaving him alone that morning and she certainly didn’t enjoy thinking of that sad puppy dog face he wore as she walked out the door.

His name rolled over and over again through her mind, however, and she clung to that. Fox. She wondered about him, and wondered if he ever wondered about her. 

One afternoon in her office, as if her thoughts were somehow being projected out into the universe, as if some cosmic force were thrusting destiny into her path, she heard a somewhat familiar voice.

“Well, well, well. I guess this must be fate.” 

She was sitting at her desk reading an article and looked up to find the very last person she expected to see. Fox looked more put together in a suit and tie, and his hair was tidy. He cleaned up nicely. A Bureau badge was attached to his lapel and he wore glasses this time, which she found oddly arousing.

Of course. What were the odds of her finding another FBI agent to sleep with near downtown DC? Higher than she realized, obviously. 

“The fox returns,” she said, trying not to smile. “So you work for the Bureau, too?”

“Afraid so.” He didn’t sound upset she hadn’t told him, just a bit confused.

“Are you stalking me?” she asked him playfully, at least as playful as she got. 

“It’s a lot less romantic than that,” he explained, holding up a case file. Her name was written on a post-it note attached to the front. He gestured to her own badge. “I guess you’re my consult.”

“It really is fate, then,” she said, pleased to see him in spite of herself. 

“How long have you worked at the field office? Shame we’ve never bumped into one another.” 

She shrugged. “I’m a private person,” she said by way of explanation. “And besides, who says we haven’t?”

“I think I’d have remembered you,” he grinned. “You really know how to hurt a man’s self esteem, by the way.” 

She could tell he was joking, that she hadn’t really insulted him when she’d left him that morning. Judging by his behavior, he hadn’t been pining away or anything. It made him even more attractive to her; which was extremely inconvenient.

“I’m sorry about that, it wasn’t anything personal,” she explained quickly. “I just… I don’t do relationships.”

“I get it,” he said. “I’m the same way. Married to the Bureau?”

“You could say that.” 

“It’s okay,” he said coolly. “Anyway, I got what I wanted.”

His comment took her aback. She glared at him, but his eyes softened. “I meant your name,” he clarified, pointing to the post-it note, flashing his thousand watt smile. “Sorry, that came out wrong. Would it be all right if we introduced ourselves properly?”

She sighed, remembering how quickly he’d made her feel at ease in their prior encounter. She felt powerless against his rampant charm. “I’m Diana. Fowley. And you’re Fox.” She enunciated the name slowly, deliberately. She liked the way it felt on her tongue.

“Fox Mulder,” he told her. He extended his hand and she shook it. 

God, he was handsome. It struck her that it was the first time she’d shaken a man’s hand after that same hand had been so intimate with her body. 

“So, that really is your name?” she asked, glancing down at his badge.

“It’s not something I’d lie about.” He wandered slowly around the desk towards her. “Chopin?” he asked, noting the calming piano concerto spouting forth from her cassette deck.

“It helps me concentrate.”

He grinned. “I’ve always been partial to Bach.”

She knew what he was doing. He was trying to have the date they didn’t really have last time. She wanted to put a stop to it but she didn’t. She couldn’t help herself.

“How is it you came to know so much about classical music, Fox?” 

“You can call me Mulder,” he said. “I actually prefer it.”

She didn’t.

“I went to school at Oxford,” he explained. “I used to go… well, my ex used to take me to concerts at the Sheldonian. It grew on me.”

“Handsome and Oxford educated? You’ve got quite the list of credentials.”

He shrugged. “I don't usually put out all my credentials on the first date. But I think you and I are past that.” He grinned at her and his eyes sparkled; the same eyes that had drawn her in last time and she knew she was treading in dangerous waters.

“We aren’t on a date.”

“You’re right, we’re not,” he conceded. “But we could be.”

“So what did you come for a consult on, Fox?” she asked, pushing past his proposition and finally facing him, arms crossed in front of her.

“I’m a profiler with the Behavioral Analysis Unit. We have a convict being re-evaluated for mental competency, due to some claims he’s made that defy explanation.”

“Such as?” She was intrigued. Things that defied explanation were her weakness. Handsome men talking to her about the subject were even better.

“I’m not sure you’d believe me if I told you.”

“Try me,” she smirked.

He shrugged. “Psychic abilities. How does that grab ya?”

She removed her glasses and folded them, placing them in her coat pocket. She leaned back in her chair. “I’ve seen some patients display remarkable aptitude for clairvoyance, precognitive behaviors, even psychokinesis. There have been extensive studies on the phenomenon. While it’s still considered pseudoscience, it seems to be within the realm of possibility.”

Fox gaped at her, a small grin curving up either side of his mouth.

“You… believe in that kind of thing?” he asked.

“I’ve seen too much not to believe it.”

He looked at her in wonder, his eyes bright and engaged, seemingly speechless at her revelation. “I guess they sent me to the right person, then. How do you know about all this stuff?”

She raised an eyebrow at him and he quickly retracted. “I don’t mean- I just mean, they sent me to see an Intelligence Analyst that specializes in psych. I’m just surprised you’re even interested in the paranormal.”

“I have a background in parascience,” she explained. “It’s not something the Bureau utilizes much, but it comes in handy from time to time, I suppose… Whenever all your other avenues have been exhausted.” 

Again, he seemed at a loss for words. “I find the subject fascinating, actually,” he said, that same tone he’d used in the bar creeping back into his voice.

“Do you?” She’d never had a man claim an interest in the paranormal to get into her pants. It was oddly refreshing.

“I do,” he replied. “It isn’t often I run into someone who would entertain such possibilities. It’s… refreshing.”

She interpreted his wording as yet another sign this man was somehow meant to be in her life. She believed in lots of things, including fate, and she was starting to believe in him as well.

“I know what you mean,” she agreed. “It’s frustrating when all the people around you refuse to have an open mind.”

“I was actually just reading about a theory that claims prehistoric evidence of alien astronauts that landed here on earth.” He looked at her expectantly and she wasn’t sure if he was putting her on or not. 

Her eyes widened. “Wow. Do you open with that at parties?”

“Not ones I’m invited back to,” he chuckled. “I was just curious about your thoughts.”

“I’ve read about that, too. I’m honestly not sure how I feel about it. It’s a long held theory, but…” she trailed off.

“...Wildly unpopular?” he asked.

“Exactly.”

“Sounds right up my alley,” he grinned. 

“Mine too, actually,” she admitted.

She smiled back and they looked at each other for a moment. The attraction she’d felt for him before was only growing exponentially, and it unnerved her. Before the feeling could continue for too long she interrupted it by holding her hand out for his file. “Well. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

He handed her the file and she flipped through it. “Did you do MRIs? Ah,” she removed them and stood, inserting them into the light box on the wall. She scanned them carefully and then pointed to a small section of the scan.

“This is what we look for in these types of cases, here in the temporal lobe,” she explained. “It’s rare, but it seems to be the common denominator. If you look closely, you can actually see faint activity here.”

Fox leaned in next to her so they were shoulder to shoulder. She wanted to feel uncomfortable, a feeling that was comfortable to her, but instead felt overwhelming contentment. Not to mention he smelled incredible.

“And this is… unusual?”

She nodded. “It’s called the God Module. We rarely see any activity at all here. But sometimes there’s a faint hint of something in patients who demonstrate precognition, or advanced intelligence. It sometimes even shows up during extreme religious experiences.”

“Sounds like science fiction to me,” he winked, but she could tell he was being playful. “You’ve actually seen this demonstrated?”

“In a manner of speaking,” she explained. “Many in my field believe great leaps in science and other achievements were accomplished by individuals with access to this part of the brain. Galileo, Newton, Einstein. All corollaries to this theory.” She indicated the scans on the wall. “Looks like your guy could be one of them.” She leaned closer to the scans. “Luther Lee Boggs,” she read. “If you’d like, I could run a psych eval on him for you.”

She wasn’t sure why she’d offered. She told herself it was because this kind of brain activity was rare and she was lucky to have this case dropped into her lap. But the truth was she really just wanted to see the fox again.

His eyes went dark as he looked at her, predatory. It was then she knew for sure she hadn’t had the upper hand this entire time; that she was indeed his prey, and she was completely helpless. She wanted his case and he knew it. He liked her, and she knew it. 

“Have dinner with me,” he said.

She crossed her arms and her eyes narrowed. “This sounds a lot like extortion.”

“It’s dinner.”

“I told you, I don’t do relationships.”

“You mentioned that,” he said. “But you do eat, right?”

She sighed and shook her head, smiling. “You sure are stubborn, aren’t you?”

“Only when it’s important,” he said. “One dinner. Then I’ll take you to see Boggs.”

Fate, he’d said. Maybe it was fate. As a man, he hit every one of the boxes on her checklist. Physically, she had zero complaints. He was interested in her work, not put off by it. And he was definitely interested in her. 

She looked into his eyes, saw them actively changing color as he watched and waited for her answer, and she knew she was done for. Maybe this could be fun. Maybe he was exactly what she needed. Maybe he could help relieve some of the stress she’d been under.

Maybe just for a while.

“Dinner. Okay,” she agreed.

CAPITOL HILL

WASHINGTON, D.C.

JUNE 1988

Dinner turned into sex, which turned into more dinners, until several months had passed and Diana Fowley found herself in a relationship with Fox Mulder. 

He was everything she’d ever wanted in a partner, whenever she’d allowed herself to imagine one. And although she’d resigned herself to a life alone, she was walking back her preconceived notions. She wanted to be with him, she enjoyed it. They were so alike in so many ways. Maybe they could actually make this work. 

Snapping herself out of thoughts of the fox, she turned her attention to the task at hand. Today was an important day. She was standing in the hallway of the Capitol building, a stack of all her latest research carefully organized inside her briefcase. 

It had been several months since she’d attended a meeting like this one and she was a bit nervous. She wasn’t certain to whom exactly she’d be presenting today, but her grant was due for review and she hadn’t been this anxious since those first few weeks back at the academy years ago, when she knew she was being observed closely.

The freedom to pursue her interests in parascience hadn’t come easily. It wasn’t the kind of subject discussed much among her peers at work. Fortunately, her research had been noticed by people outside the Bureau who mattered. 

She took the stairwell down to the lower levels of the Capitol, to a hideaway office. It wasn’t the Senator’s typical meeting spot, and she was certain it was for the benefit of whomever they were meeting with today. She’d barely been sitting outside the unmarked office door for one minute when it opened and a woman poked her head out.

“Miss Fowley? The Senator will see you now.”

She stood and entered, a bit apprehensive. The office was much bigger than it had a right to be, considering where it was situated. The ceilings were vaulted and the adornments were breathtaking. 

The Senator got up from his chair and leaned over the desk, extending his hand. “Diana, so nice to see you again.”

“Senator Matheson.” She shook his hand, settling down in the chair across from his desk. Behind him was a man she’d never seen before, leaning against the wall with an inscrutable expression on his face and a cigarette in his hand. 

The senator was tall and his hair was graying. When she’d met him a year ago, there’d been an immediate attraction between them and she thought there might have been some expectation of a quid pro quo. It wasn’t anything she considered beneath her; Diana wasn’t one to dismiss using every attribute available to her to get where she needed to go. But the expectation never became reality. Matheson was genuinely interested in her work, always had been, and the funding she received from him had been gratefully accepted. Without his patronage she’d never have had the ability to pursue her work in parascience through official FBI channels.

“I’ve brought some progress reports for you to see,” she said, fumbling inside her briefcase. “I think you’ll be very pleased. I have some new research focused on not only what we know of the brain, but the parts of the brain we know practically nothing about.”

Ever since she began seeing Fox, the God Module theory had been at the top of her research priority list. They’d begun to see psych patients together that exhibited precognitive behaviors, and while Fox found them interesting on a more visceral level, what she often found most exciting was the potential; not only for her own discoveries but for the great leaps in knowledge they presented. 

Senator Matheson raised his hand to stop her presentation. “No need, I’m sure your work has been exemplary.” He smiled, and she was confused.

“Sir? I’m sorry, I was under the impression that this was an evaluation.”

“No, I’ve asked you here because there’s been… a development.”

Diana looked behind him at the stranger, who was eyeing her carefully as he puffed on his cigarette. Something about him put her off balance. She glanced at Matheson, expecting an introduction that wasn’t forthcoming. 

“What kind of development?”

Matheson sat back into his chair. “There’s a group I’m involved with, scientists and researchers in the private sector who are working on projects… experiments, really, that are pushing the boundaries of modern science, psychology… amazing things, Diana. I’ve told them about you, and they’ve taken an interest in your work.”

Diana was surprised, but intrigued. “Oh?”

Matheson leaned forward in his chair. “They’re willing to double the yearly amount of the grant I’ve offered you.”

Double? Diana was floored. Rarely was her field of expertise taken seriously by anyone. Her work was barely tolerated, much less encouraged. “That’s… that’s wonderful, sir. I’m thrilled to hear that.”

“If you accept, you’ll be under a private exclusivity contract with them for the next five years. It means you’ll get to continue your work while at the Bureau just as you have been, only they will direct your research, fund it, and retain the rights to your findings.”

This concerned Diana, as she worked hard for the discoveries she made. Passing off the credit wasn’t something she was eager to do. But it seemed a small price to pay for her to have the resources to push ahead. “I think that...sounds acceptable.”

“Things will be a bit different, however, Diana,” Matheson continued. “You’ll no longer be reporting to me.”

The man behind Matheson stood and moved behind the senator, placing a hand on his shoulder. He reached around to put his cigarette out in the ashtray, took a long look at Diana, and exited the room. She watched the door close behind him. 

“Who was that?”

Matheson ignored her question. “You’ll be contacted by someone soon. But Diana-” she looked back at her benefactor. “I cannot stress to you enough the importance of the secrecy of this work. It’s highly classified.”

She nodded, even more intrigued. 

“You’ll be able to tell no one, not family, friends. No one.”

She hesitated, knowing keeping this from Fox would be difficult. But their relationship was still relatively new, and this opportunity seemed once in a lifetime. Her curiosity won out. 

“That won’t be a problem, sir,” she promised.  “Can I ask… about the nature of these experiments?” 

“The Company will explain what they can. There are limits to your access, at least for the time being.” He pinned her with a look, that look he got whenever he was speaking wistfully of space exploration or American history. She liked Matheson, they shared a certain simpatico. “But I think doors will be opened for you, Diana. Doors you’ve probably been knocking at for years.”

In spite of the strange nature of this meeting, of this entire situation, she felt a flutter in her stomach that could only be the galvanizing excitement of discovery. It was even better than sex. And few things were.

Matheson stood and extended his hand. “It’s a shame to see you go, Diana, but I’ll rest easy in the knowledge you’re in good hands. I only hope someday I find another protogé as worthwhile as yourself.”

She reached for his hand and shook it. “Thank you, sir, for the opportunity you’ve given me in the first place. I’ll always be grateful.” She turned and walked out of the room, determined her life was about to change, that she could be making a real difference someday.

That night when she saw Fox, he asked her how her day was. She said it was good. 

It didn’t feel like a lie.

[thecoleopterawithana]

Hello, I'm the last anon you answered to. I'm sorry if I came out as defensive because it wasn't my intention. In fact I've always thought that John was bisexual until I started questioning everything. ( I'm a bisexual guy myself and I'm perfectly happy with the way I am ! ) It's just that I feel like Yoko would just say whatever she wants on John to suit her agenda. John's sexuality had always been an interesting topic and dropping something like that would gaib her publicity this is why I --

I question the authenticity of her claims. She could have lied about it just to attract attention… And I’d be disappointed because John was in fact my idol and he gave me the strength to come out as bi to my family. But there’s so many anecdotes about him being homophobic that it just makes me sad and this is why I hardly doubt that he was a bisexual man…As for the Cynthia quote I heard her say something like “ John was afraid of homosexuality just like everyone ) in a video on Youtube –

I am very conflicted because I’ve watched videos of John ( interviews etc ) and many comments said that he was very skilled at manipulating people and wasn’t as honest as he appeared to be, which is why I doubt. John had always been the rebellious type and I started thinking that he was using the bisexuality topic to shock and make people talk about it which is disappointing. Was he dropping hints that he was bi to piss off people and make publicity ? This is what I believe : (There is also -

Something he said to Alaister Taylor where he said that he was trying to spread the rumor that he was gay or bi just for fun and he told him that he would never shag a man because just the thought of it turned him off… Yet he also told him that he adored Brian so much that he would have done anything with him ( he contradict himself here. ) So yeah I didn’t want to be rude. I apologize. I think I need reassurance. Could you please analyse everything I said if u don’t mind please ? : (

-

Anon 2

At the very least all these years later isn’t it circumstantially suggested that John had very private gay encounters, and was uncomfortable making them public, yet wanted to hint at them so he could deal with this matter int he future? He was protecting his privacy and his ego, and perhaps wasn’t yet ready to reveal either his encounters or mixed feelings of bisexuality. His encounters have been protected by those with whom he was involved, people thameant a lot to him, no?

-

Anon 3

hey! by any chance, do you have knowledge of the quotes where john said “sex with girls felt like a performance after the first time” and “i was never sexually attracted to women before yoko”? i am SURE i’ve seen the first one somewhere on tumblr, though the second one is more of a quote of a quote so i’m not sure if it’s real or not dfkdjk thanks, anyway!

-

Anon 4

Hello! Is it true that John used to be very attracted to the drag scene in St Pauli ( I guess that was the town I read about ) and that basically the drag / gay scene made him feel comfortable and at home? Says a lot about him!

-

@tbhmarjj

I adore you, thank u for this blog and ur beautiful mind. i doubt johns bisexuality at times tbh considering he went to great lengths for publicity and he wanted to be an LGBT ally, be cool and outspoken and as he himself said it was trendy to be bi. but then again he was obsessed with Paul in so many ways and he was the embodiment of John’s ideal man. beautiful, talented, intellectual. I’ll be patiently awaiting ur posts exploring Paul’s views on johns sexuality.Thank u

-

Hello again, anon! 

I want to begin by thanking you for getting back to me after I answered your ask and for clarifying where you were coming from when you wrote it. It really is quite hard to fully get the tone of a written message, especially one that is so short that you have no context to draw from to get the emotional meaning behind it. It really appeared to me when I read it that the concern was not who was saying it (Yoko) but about what was being said (John was bisexual). I can now see that was not the case and I appreciate that you’ve made that clear. 

I also hope you don’t mind, but I’ve taken the opportunity to include in this answer all of the other asks I’ve been receiving regarding John’s sexuality. It’s clearly a topic of great interest in this community. So I’ll be attempting to address all the points raised here. Again, this is nothing definitive; only my personal readings of the situation as I find it at the moment.

Before I do answer, though, I’d just like everyone to take a deep breath and a step back. Let’s try to examine this topic a bit more objectively. 

I understand that sex is kind of major in our society. Our notion of identity is tightly bound to our classified sexuality and gender. Sexual relationships (or amorous relationships) are seen as the epitome of human connection and the ideal everyone should be striving for. And people fundamentally want to be loved and not alone, so it makes sense that figuring out who is a potential companion (and if that companion is interested back) is such a big deal.

But despite these layers of meaning and societal pressures, we should keep in mind what sex represents, essentially, from an evolutionary point of view. 

For social animals who derive pleasure from sexual stimulation, sexual intercourse is – like all the other kinds of affection – a way to build connections. 

If you want to find examples in nature, just look at our ape cousins, the bonobos. The also called pygmy chimpanzee lives in a matriarchal society where sexual behaviour plays an essential role in strengthening social bonds, lowering tension and keeping the peace. Bonobos don’t discriminate between gender or age (except between mothers copulating with their own adult sons, so as to prevent cross-breeding). It’s the true “free love” society; evolution took “make love, not war” and ran with it. 

Our own culture seems more similar to that of bonobos’ northern neighbours, the common chimp. Their patriarchy is more conservative regarding sexual intercourse, which is mainly used for reproduction purposes, and their power structure is based around intricate political games, where males form alliances and try to get public support in order to overthrow the ruling party.

I find it endlessly curious to look at these two species, whose physical separation by the Congo river made them diverge so starkly in their social organization, and compare them to the struggle between these same two natures that we find in our own society. 

All this to say that, from a simply biological point of view, I have to agree with John and Yoko when they say that everyone must be bisexual. If sexual intercourse as a social behaviour is, inherently, all about establishing bonds and connections, the extent to which those connections are “allowed” to be built depends entirely on the hierarchal structure that same society is trying to preserve. In other words, what is classified as morally right or wrong is more reflective of the rules in place to keep that society working as it is, than it is of what is naturally present as a drive. 

If your brain is primed to seek pleasure and sexual intercourse brings you pleasure independently of the partner’s gender, then the partner’s gender should be inconsequential.

But unlike bonobos, humans are kind of touchy about touching. So there are other levels of information influencing behaviour. The processes of socialization – of internalizing the norms and ideologies of society – and enculturation – by which people learn the dynamics of their surrounding culture and acquire values and norms appropriate or necessary in that culture and worldviews – are as determinant as the genetic factors influencing behaviour. In fact, this added education can be so effective in curbing your “primal instincts”, that one might forget they have them in the first place. 

Thus, the concepts of gender identity and sexual orientation are a constantly shifting construct based on the various interactions between your genetic makeup and social influences. 

I just think that, in order to have this discussion, it’s important to separate the various levels of it and be clear about which we are referring to.

There is the basic evolutionary drive to seek pleasure and form connections.

There is the social education about that same drive and how it is allowed to manifest itself.

And integrating all these different signals and information – various potentials which manifested as attraction – there finally is a behaviour, a choice.

And finally, there’s the external point of view of other members of society looking in and trying to discern other people’s drives and how they relate to their choices (that’s us now). The problem is, we often throw our own drives and choices into the mix, especially with regards to something as personally defining as sexual orientation. 

So we have to make very clear in our minds what is the end goal here. Why are we interested in discussing this topic? Are we looking to discern as much of the truth as we can get it, objectively trying to understand these human beings? Or are we trying to confirm our own projections on them? And please, don’t take me wrong. All these are valid reasons to be interested in a subject. Often how it resonates with us, so personally, is vitally important to reaching a greater understanding about ourselves and learning how to communicate that to others. 

But in the same way a piece of music can make you have a transformative emotional experience that the artist didn’t necessarily go through, it’s important to remember that our own inner-life might be affecting how we examine others. Better be mindful of what we project, lest we think are finally seeing inside another person when in fact we are only looking at our own reflection. (And honestly, I believe getting to truly know ourselves in this processes can be a hundred times more valuable than knowing the other. By learning to recognize ourselves we can better understand other people and vice-versa.) 

So if it is important to you that John is bisexual, my honest opinion is that all the information can be read in a way that confirms it. We’ll hardly ever know for sure, and based on what we do know, that can certainly be the takeaway. 

But if we want to objectively examine John’s sexuality, we shouldn’t bring in a confirmation bias. Meaning that we should be emotionally detached from the outcome, as long as it is as close to the truth as we can get. But this is only where I’m coming from, and I’m a bit of a scientist. It’s totally fair if you’re not in it for the same reasons. Though again, working under the assumption that you want to know my stance on it, let’s proceed.

I understand your reservations regarding Yoko as an unreliable narrator. To analyse Yoko’s motivations would be an interesting topic, but one which I will not go in at the moment as I don’t feel sufficiently informed about Yoko as a person to give an extensive examination.  

But in my opinion, there is a whole lot of other information available from which to draw from other than Yoko’s statements. 

I also get your and @tbhmarjj‘s concerns about John’s declarations during the 70s. But it’s the same question I posed in the previous post: Was the “bisexual chic” fad of the 1970s merely a publicity stunt for those involved? Even if it was, did it make the experimentations undertaken any less true? Were they just faking it for the press or were they finally allowed to try and be open about it? 

Because I come from the biological background that places sex as a positive social interaction like any other, meaning that its purpose is to create bonds and the pleasure is our “reward” for doing it, I tend to believe that the behaviours were genuine. The drive there is real. As real as the internal constraints that would act on them as a result of societies shifting expectations and permissions. And this socialization is as determinant in the creation of sexual attraction as anything. So based on our definition of sexual orientation, all those bi rockstars of the 70s could have effectively stopped identifying as bi once the new social norm overrun their own internal drives and the previous less conservative status quo. That didn’t make them less bi when they were. 

It’s funny, but in terms of gender and sexuality, nothing is real so everything is. 

So yeah, I think that John could have been bisexual the second he felt he was. But because the social tide was likely to shift, it was better to also maintain a measure of deniability: it was just for show, it’s not serious, I was just taking the mickey out of you and you fell for it! Of course John was smart enough to leave space there to retract. He and Paul had mastered the art as communicators through song. They could claim them to mean everything and nothing as it suited them. As Anon 2 says, it’s a protective measure. 

So I think that at some point in time, John genuinely identified as bisexual. Now whether he acted on it or not is another questioned entirely. As Anon 2 points out, there are various circumstantial accounts, but these are always tougher to verify. 

I tend to believe Yoko when she says:

So did Lennon ever have sex with men?

“No, I don’t think so,” says Ono. “The beginning of the year he was killed, he said to me, ‘I could have done it, but I can’t because I just never found somebody that was that attractive.’ Both John and I were into attractiveness—you know—beauty.”

I ask what she makes of the people outside the building, the crowds still at Strawberry Fields.

Ono misunderstands, or mishears (or is simply focused on the last strand of our conversation), and continues to talk about sex.

“I don’t make anything out of it. When you’re not really interested in that sort of sex, you don’t think about it. Both John and I surprisingly were very passive people. Unless somebody made a thing out of it, if they made a move, I wouldn’t even think about it.”

— in Yoko Ono: I Still Fear John’s Killer by Tim Teeman for the Daily Beast (13 October 2015).

At least I believe he at least never “fully” did it, in the sense of full-blown anal sex. I think there might have been “milder” homosexual interactions, such as handjobs, that could be rationalized as not entirely gay (the thing with Brian in Spain being one of them.)

Regarding the drag scene in Hamburg Anon 4 was asking about, I agree that it also provides information about John. Though I think it’s mainly about his gender identity rather than his sexual orientation (though the two are invariably linked in the construct as well).

Here are some quotes about it:

With his four months’ greater experience, Sheridan was an ideal guide to the Reeperbahn’s more exotic diversions, like the Schwülen laden. Stu Sutcliffe later wrote home in amazement that the transvestites were ‘all harmless and very young’ and it was actually possible to speak to one ‘without shuddering’. Though raised amid the same homophobia as his companions, John seemed totally unshocked by St Pauli’s abundant drag scene; indeed, he often seemed actively to seek it out. ‘There was one particular club he used to like,’ Tony Sheridan remembers, ‘full of these big guys with hairy hands, deep voices—and breasts. But they used to make an effort to talk English. There was something about the place that seemed to make John feel at home.’

— In John Lennon: The Life by Philip Norman (2008).

And according to Horst Fascher (bouncer at the Indra Club and the Kaiserkeller):

It wasn’t just girls that were on offer to young english rockers. Monica’s Bar was Hamburg’s notorious transvestite club. For one or two English musicians, Monica’s was just another part of the Hamburg experience.

HORST FASCHER: One night Monica said, “Come, come and look. One of your boys is in the séparé.” “And who is it?” And she said, “One of the Beatles.” “Let me look”. She said, “Be careful. Look only sneaky-like.” But I did. I grabbed the curtain, pulled it aside and there was sitting John in… in a position with that girl, and you know. He felt really ashamed and I said, “John, don’t worry man. I did that all before.”

— In The Beatles Biggest Secrets. [Transcription is my own and I’m not too certain of it.]

Though there certainly might have been an aspect of sexual interest to it, I think John’s fascination with the drag scene was also the kinship with the queerness he felt inside himself; mainly in regards to him wanting to express his more sensitive side, which is coded as feminine in our society. So I think seeing men indulging in femininity and nonnormative behaviour resonated with him.

Also, I think it’s even more important to understand John’s relationship with sex in general, regardless of the partner. 

To that end, the quote mentioned by Anon 3 is of special relevance:

When I was a kid, I wanted to shag every attractive woman I saw. I used to dream that it would be great if you could just click your fingers and they would strip off and be ready for me. I would spend most of my teenager years fantasising about having this kind of power over women. The weird thing is, when the fantasies came true they were not nearly so much fun. One of my most frequent dreams was seducing two girls together, or even a mother and a daughter. That happened in Hamburg a couple of times and the first time it was sensational. The second time it got to feel like I was giving a performance. You know how when you make love to a woman that the moment you come, you get a buzz of relief and just for a moment you don’t need anyone or anything. The more women I had, the more the buzz would turn into a horrible feeling of rejection and revulsion at what I’d been doing. As soon as I’d been with a woman, I wanted to get the hell out.

— John Lennon to Alistair Taylor (Brian Epstein’s assistant), 1965. In his autobiography With the Beatles: A Stunning Insight by The Man who was with the Band Every Step of the Way (2003).

And another important passage is in reference to Janov’s Primal Scream Therapy:

Well, his thing is to feel the pain that’s accumulated inside you ever since your childhood. […] The worst pain is that of not being wanted, of realising your parents do not need you in the way you need them. When I was a child I experienced moments of not wanting to see the ugliness, not wanting to see not being wanted. This lack of love went into my eyes and into my mind. […] Most people channel their pain into God or masturbation or some dream of making it. […] But for me at any rate it was all part of dissolving the Godtrip or father-figure trip. Facing up to reality instead of always looking for some kind of heaven.

— John Lennon, interviewed by Robin Blackburn and Tariq Ali for Red Mole (8-22 March 1971). [I really can’t stop pointing to this quote as one of the most important in order to understand John Lennon.]

As he reiterates in ‘I Found Out’ (1970): Some of you sitting there with yer cock in yer hand / Don’t get you nowhere don’t make you a man

To me, John’s pursuit of sex is, like most things in his life, essentially about filling this black-hole of emotional pain. He internalized the lack of love from his parents, which went into his eyes and mind, until he himself believed he was unlovable. This lack of self-esteem translates into a lot of pain and the need for an external solution for that pain. 

The external solution is not wanting to feel so vulnerable any more. This can be achieved either by trying to seize control, by exerting it over others or having them look up to you (e.g. “fantasising about having this kind of power over women”; “some dream of making it”). Or it can be achieved by handing control over and being taken care of (e.g. “people channel their pain into God”, “I’ve seen religion from Jesus to Paul”.)

Sex as an activity can play into these various dynamics: it can be used to feel power over others, as John started out; it can be used as an escapist distraction, like a drug (e.g. “you get a buzz of relief and just for a moment you don’t need anyone or anything”); and it can be used as giving yourself over and being loved, looking to receive that which you can’t get from yourself. 

As time passed and the first two solutions stopped working, I think John focused on the third: sex in the context of an emotionally close relationship as the ultimate intimacy and proof that he was loved. And because he wanted to absolve himself of responsibility, to be taken care of, his partner needed to be someone on the other end, someone who had control. In our culture, this reads as a masculine figure (e.g. “father-figure trip”). 

This may be from a female, whose masculine qualities were what attracted John in the first place:

In this intense, intimate and revealing original cassette recording of a private conversation in 1969 between John Lennon and Yoko Ono, the couple speaks primarily about Yoko’s past relationships, her music and art, and their random views on sex, love, promiscuity, and homosexuality. […] [Lennon] adds that he had never met an attractive woman that had sexually aroused him to any great degree.

— Description of the 45-minute audiotape auctioned in 2009 by Alexander Autographs.

I used to say to him, ‘I think you’re a closet fag, you know.’ Because after we started to live together, John would say to me, ‘Do you know why I like you? Because you look like a bloke in drag. You’re like a mate.’

— Yoko Ono, interviewed for New York Magazine (25 May 1981).

Or the partner he was looking for could be found in the (often dominant) person he was most emotionally invested in his whole life. 

All I want is you / Everything has got to be just like you want it to

And in a society that establishes that the closest two people can be, the greatest intimacy they can share, the ultimate declaration of love is to live in a monogamous amorous relationship, is it any wonder that John felt he could only believe in their relationship if they were together like that? Is it any wonder that he would doubt Paul’s affections because Paul apparently wasn’t willing to express them like that? 

JOHN: It’s a plus, it’s not a minus. The plus is that your best friend, also, can hold you without… I mean, I’m not a homosexual, or we could have had a homosexual relationship and maybe that would have satisfied it, with working with other male artists. [faltering] An artist – it’s more – it’s much better to be working with another artist of the same energy, and that’s why there’s always been Beatles or Marx Brothers or men, together. Because it’s alright for them to work together or whatever it is. It’s the same except that we sleep together, you know? I mean, not counting love and all the things on the side, just as a working relationship with her, it has all the benefits of working with another male artist and all the joint inspiration, and then we can hold hands too, right?

SHEVEY: But Yoko is a very independent person. Isn’t it— [inaudible]

JOHN: Sure, and so were the men I worked with. The only difference is she’s female.

SHEVEY: But you didn’t find it difficult to make that transition?

JOHN: Oh yeah. I mean, it took me four years. I’m still not – I’m still only coming through it, you know.

— Interview with Sandra Shevey (June 1972).

I know I keep posting this quote, but I don’t think he can make it more obvious than that: it’s not about the sex. Or rather, the sex is not the primary thing. 

He didn’t push all those years because he was uncontrollably horny for Paul. John just wants a physical manifestation, a more tangible “proof”, of his emotional connections. He wants to be able to hold hands, be held and perhaps also have sex with his best friend; he needs those proofs of love through the means of physical affection because he won’t believe Paul’s love for him is there otherwise (or that it’s as great as John’s).

Would society normalizing other kinds of relationships – such as friendships – to be as important or on the same level as amorous (romantic/sexual) ones, have helped John and Paul? Most likely. 

Would society normalizing same-sex amorous relationships have helped John and Paul? Perhaps. (For this one we would have to look more closely at Paul’s needs and desires.)

All this to say that John’s idea of sexuality was extremely influenced by society, and in his case, the rule “amorous relationships are the normative ones” outweighed the “heterosexual relationships are the normative ones”. 

The conflict occurred when from Paul’s perspective, the priority of the rules was the other way around. I think Paul was ready to ignore society’s norm and live his life with his friendship with John as the most important relationship. But he also wanted a heterosexual one. (But more on that on a post of its own.)

For now, I hope I have more or less managed to express my thoughts on the matter of John’s sexuality. 

Thank you so much for reading through all that and for reaching out in the first place! I truly appreciate it!

[overelegantstranger]

I had a headache at the time I saw your original post so I didn't feel up to engaging with it much, but if/when you have the time and energy, please could you expand on your behaviour model of queerness? (feel free to answer privately or publicly, whichever you prefer)

Hey,yeah, so! First off, sorry this took me a little bit to get to; I wasn'toperating on full brain for a while there. Anyway, the idea of Queerness as aDiscrete Identity only really started to happen in the late 1800s, when EdwardCarpenter (a gay guy in a long-running relationship, incidentally) startedyelling about it. This is part of an attempt to assert queerness as a thingseparate from morals, as a part of one's identity and as something thatdeserves a struggle for rights same as any other demographic.

I agree withthis, just in case anyone watching this thinks I want queer folks to end uplike Oscar Wilde and Simeon Solomon. I don't. But, nevertheless, in my personalopinion we lost something, as queer people, when the identity-centered approachCarpenter started took hold. The thing about identity centered approaches isthat they more easily create an us/them dynamic. Queer people become discreteunits that Straight Society can dismiss as a "them", when before - asDeborah Lutz puts it in my favourite ever book ever, "if people discoveredsuch things as sodomy existed, they might try it for themselves". StraightSociety is, by and large (but not Fully) "safe" from that anxietynow.

You're either "Gay", or you're"Straight"; you're a "them" or an "us". Thisforms an essential bracketing off of experience, because identities areactually much slippier. The lines between trans identity and gay identity areincredibly slippy, for example. Carpenter himself articulates gay male identityas having a "woman's soul". Trans and gay identities are very closelywound together; to be gay, in the late 1800s and early 1900s, is to begenderqueer.

This got separated out; I'm not sure what came first, greaterunderstanding of transness or respectability politics, but nevertheless, to adegree, identity politics allowed this distinction to happen because it hadlaid down a framework in which there could be uses and thems with regard to sexuality and non-cis gender experiences. Once"them" became a discrete class rather than just an immoral version of"us", it could be further distinguished and shifted, by both the inand out groups. I am not sure of quite the dynamics at play here but queernessgot stripped of its aspects until the only difference between the"us" and the "them" was the gender of the person you hadsex with. This was your identity, now; this was a Category you could exist in.It gained some nuances (Carpenter suggests all queer men are effeminate andarty) and lost others (your gender wasn't inherently slippery, any more). Butbecause of that slimlining of the categories, lots of people found themselveswithout category. Due to the new framework, we make identity after identity.That's fine. I have no problem with that. But categories come with measuringdevices, and all out-groups measure you for "fitness".

I've lost my thread. Anyway, you start with two distinctcategories. "Gay" and "Straight". "Gay" lost itsgenderqueerness quite early, if I recall, though I'm not sure of the actualdynamics. "Bi" immediately troubles this bracket, because you can'tfit bi folk into either. They don't measure up to the requirements of thecategories. This is why, in my opinion, a lot of biphobic folks will fall backon behavioural models. They'll use your behaviour to try and figure out whereyou fall. Rightly, a lot of bi people have fought against this and establishedfor themselves their own box.

Mainstream queer history is the constant creationof boxes. I don't necessarily disagree with this; I certainly see the impulse.But boxes necessitate measuring yourself. You have to always be enough to fitin the box, even if you made it for yourself. You're always seperated, even ifyou share a line with another person's box. Everything you do is measuredagainst the box. If your identity changes or your understanding of yourselfdevelops, you have to change the dimensions of your box (generally impossible,because we don't have personal control over many of the boxes. Boxes can changeshape if enough inhabitants decide it needs to change, but most of the time wejust move boxes).

This is an exhausting process because it requires you watchyourself at all times, to measure every aspect every time it changes. This is,in my opinion, especially exhausting because of the lines we've put up aboutnot claiming words unless you fit this box or that box, not talking about thisissue if you're not a Known Inhabitant of Box 54 And You Can Prove It. Likebringing an electric bill to prove your address, you have to present yourexperiences to prove your box-membership. So we become constantly aware and onedge; constantly waiting to whip out a ruler and measure, to prove to ourselvesor others that we belong.

Another aspect of identity models is that the act ofboxing isolates one part of your identity from another. Your gender is hangingaround in one box, while your sexuality throws a ball against the wall ofanother, and never the twain shall meet. What happens if you feel those aspectsare intertwined? What if, as I have seen often, you feel more a man whenattracted to men and more a woman when attracted to women? What if you feel youfit the definition of cis woman but your attraction to women makes you feeldistanced from womanhood in some way? What if you're aroace and a woman but youfeel isolated from the "woman" box because so many of your fellowinhabitants are allo? Do you make a new box to hold All of you or do you justcontend with living with your identities boxed apart?

Constant measuring is stressful and painful and confusingand I reject the lot of it. I reject the idea that my identity can be boxed.I open myself to the idea that my orientation and gender do not have to be pegson which my identity hangs; I open myself out to the possibility that none ofit fucking well matters. I am queer, and that's it. All the little pieces of itdon't matter. There's nothing to measure, nothing to live up to; I'm queerbecause I reject "straight" norms, and that's it. I'm not going toreplace it with another set of norms just so that I can wave my electric billin front of a REG.  What I do is moreimportant to me than whether I could fit this identity or that identity. How Ibehave is more important to me than proving I belong.

I could call myselfa polysensual, polyalterous gray-ace, aromantic androgyne; I could chase categories until every aspectof me is defined. Those categories, however, because every spare corner isfilled up with gatekeepers and discoursers, require things of you.

Polysensualrequires you to evaluate what you want from people and who you want it from,and not only what you would do butyour gut responses, the hypotheticals, the maybes. Polyalterous requires you,even though the very word is meant to mean a slipperiness between friendshipand romance, to make sure you can’t tellthe difference. Aroace requires you, again, to understand distinctions youmay not even be able to read. It requires you to measure every incident of attractionagainst a measure you don’t understand and feel constantly like someone’s goingto look through your list of attractions and make sure you count as aromantic,as ace.

Does the single time I felt sexual attraction to some celebrity discountme? Was I really talking myself into this crush or that crush? The time Iwanted a male classmate to look at me, to be impressed with me, to hold my handand kiss me – is that a romantic crush? Was that alterous, because of the timea bit later when I was dating a roommate and I felt full of glass? Androgynerequires you to examine your whole life, to evaluate yourself against girlnessand boyness and every time you tip away from one or towards another or away fromthe system entire, you find yourself lost and confused and remeasuring, but everytime you measure the ruler has changed dimensions.

I chose other words, but those too leave you dogged by the feelingthat you’re not enough, that you don’t deserve those words or communities ordefinitions; that someone’s going to see right into you and find you don’t fit.I got tired of it, I got pissed off. I’m sick of the idea that something elseinside me can be measured; that what I choose and want and claim is somehowless important than some essential Inner Self.

I fully support the use of labels, self-identification, thewaving of flags, the coining of words. I think everyone should have access toall the tools they possibly can find in order to find communities, to feel likethemselves, to understand themselves, to be understood. I don’t believe thatany identity inherently requires extreme self-analysis but I think the systemwe have, certainly on tumblr and online more generally, is sliding rapidlytowards requiring it.  I do not mean tosuggest that everyone should take ona behavioural model for themselves. I do however think that the climate we haveonline is making things less helpful, more opaque, via constant gatekeeping.

That is not a fault of the labels themselves, but it is a consequenceof identity-based models falling prey to respectability politics andauthoritarian mindsets.

That is not a fault of the labels themselves, but it is a consequenceof identity-based models falling prey to respectability politics andauthoritarian mindsets.

Moving away from a behavioural model was, at first, a goodthing, because it moved discussions of queerness away from morality. It did,however, wash us up where we are now – full of “discourse” and infighting andconstant, constant measuring.

Not everyone is going to be unhappy with the system as it isand that’s fine. Perhaps in encouraging them to do as they want while I do as Iwant I’m making another box, but perhaps I’m not.

There are aspects of the identity model I keep, but wordsand definitions have become less important to me as I’ve gone on. It is, forinstance, important to my sense of self now that I use he/him, that I feel asense of odd kinship with those troubling, “effete”, arty, dandyish, decadent,immoral gentlemen of the late eighteen-nineties. How I specifically define mysexuality is less important to me than the fact that I’m with Book, that I’mgoing to be with Book my whole damn life. How I define my sexuality is lessimportant to me than what I actually do and who do it with. It’s imperfect. I’mnot sure I’ll ever be able to fully move away from an identity-model in someform, partly because the identity-model is so pervasive that if you refuse anidentity you’re presumed cis and straight. This is happening even now with queer; even though queer is itself anidentity label, its lack of measurability has lead it to be considered spicy cishet.

If any box can be redefined as “cishet” the second a morevocal box disagrees with it, I don’t want to play by those rules and wait to bemade cishet; I want my behaviour to speak for me. I want people to have to consider me queer because theycan see I’m not-straight, I want to evade those who would shove me intostraightness just because I don’t fit their boxes.