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prurientpuddlejumper · 3 years ago

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A Lipless Face That I Want to Marry, Ch. 16

<- Part 15 | Part 17 ->

Summary: A flirtatious moment in the hospital garden turns sour.

Warnings: Brief nsfw themes, injury-recovery angst, post-traumatic stress/flashbacks, graphic past injuries, KISSING, hurt/comfort. Love and fluff.

3,700 words

After being gutted left him with a limp, a cane, and an overbearing sense of weakness, Frederick Chilton began copying Hannibal Lecter. His patterned suits, his clean-shaven face. The mimicry wasn’t deliberate exactly, but he looked to a man who radiated calm dignity and strength, and tried to capture some of it for his own.

It didn’t work. Frederick Chilton was still Frederick Chilton.

But shaving the beard did make him look younger. The razor glided over his smooth cheek as he cut through the facial hair that had grown unruly in the hospital. A new man stared back at him. One not traumatized by Gideon’s knife.

Only a few months later, he was shot in the face, and let the stubble grow back to distract from the scar. To obscure the hollowing where maxillary bone was missing. Like a chameleon, Frederick was always changing—hairstyles, wardrobes, colognes—always imitating someone, drawing the eye away from a flaw, never comfortable with himself. Ever improving. Refining. Hiding.

Every day, the burn ward’s physical therapists had him using one exercise machine or another. A pedaling machine lowered over his bed so he could build muscle while lying on his back before he was able to walk. The next step was a tall, rolling frame that he strapped into like a fighter pilot hanging from a parachute harness, which allowed him to take a few weightless steps. His legs shook. His feet did not know how to align themselves on the ground anymore. He hissed curses when you cheered him on just for shuffling one foot forward along the smooth grey linoleum.

One damned foot.

As if he couldn’t walk before. As if one shaking, machine-assisted step was an accomplishment. He was an overgrown baby in a Jumperoo.

While he could not walk on his own yet, he could get into and out of a wheelchair without screaming bloody murder. This allowed him a new level of freedom, if not autonomy. He still required two nurses to lower him into the chair. Still needed help getting to the bathroom. But he could at least use the bathroom instead of a bedpan and catheter.

Healing came at a cost.

Until now, he had caught flashes of his reflection in polished surfaces. Warped teeth in a metal IV pole. The fuzzy silhouette of a mask in the black of his computer screen.

He stood with his hands on the bathroom sink, staring. The nurse at his left elbow tugged him, told him it was time to sit back down in the chair. He needed support to stand, a babysitter to ensure he didn’t fall, and she was tired of waiting.

The thing staring back at him did not move.

When he took the compression mask off for the one hour per day he was allowed to remove it for cleaning, he somehow expected to find his own face beneath it. Skin. What he saw was a stranger. Gnarled scars made an uneven backdrop for one dead blue eye and a skeletal grimace. His own bones were buried somewhere underneath like bedrock, but the flesh was rearranged and distorted.

If he had met this man a year ago, Dr. Chilton would have felt inward pride at his ability not to sicken at the sight. He would have shaken his hand with a smug, professional detachment that said, “I am accustomed to horrific things in my line of work—abnormal psychiatry. This does not shock me as it would a layperson.”

He was a creature to be pitied.

Then a familiar reflection appeared out of the blind spot of his left side. Your image wrapped its hand behind the broken stranger, and he felt it land on his lower back. Warm. Comforting as your face, which was knit with worry. You told the nurse you could handle it from here, and she retreated out to his room.

When she was gone, Frederick began to laugh, dark and cruel, eyes never leaving the matching set staring cruelly back.

“What is it?” you asked, tightening your grip on his arm as he began to tremble.

“Do you think I look younger without a beard?”

The laugh cracked in his throat. His shoulders heaved as he finally looked away. It was too embarrassing to watch a grown man cry.

***

The heat of July was not easy on a body that could no longer sweat and was covered head to toe in a compression suit, but Frederick Chilton was thrilled to be outside. As the automatic sliding doors opened, he breathed in deeply through the nose and exhaled the spinning summer fragrances with a blissful sigh.

You resisted the urge to tease him. Of the pair, you were the more outdoorsy by far, and the last time you dragged him camping, he’d managed to complain the entire two days. He was not, generally, one to appreciate sunshine and birdsong. But this was different.

It was his first time away from the lifeless hospital air—the same smells day after day—in four months.

Now a breeze hit his face—a breeze! He had forgotten what that felt like—and brought with it the smell of cut grass and flowers, and exhaust fumes from the nearby roadways. The scent of gasoline urged his stomach to wring itself empty, but it was faint and easy enough to shake off as sparrows chirped and flitted about the hospital’s “meditation garden.”

Gently curving paths snaked through the landscaping of lush greenery and small trees. Few flowers were planted, out of respect for patients with allergies, but a fountain at the center babbled soothingly. The walkways were wide and smoothly paved, so the grey wheels of the hospital-issue wheelchair rolled over them easily, performing their function despite being over-worked and worn down, not unlike the staff. The black rubber handle grips had a dull patina from hundreds of hands, yours being the latest to circle around them as you pushed.

It was nice to have a private courtyard to enjoy the fresh air without the eyes of the general public watching.

Frederick was able to wear clothes from home now, but they had to be loose-fitting and short-sleeved to not interfere with his treatment. In a navy polo shirt and athletic shorts, he felt horrifically under-dressed, and did not want to be seen that way. The fashion crime was almost as bad as the face he could not bear looking at.

An elderly patient and what appeared to be her adult daughter sat on one of the benches between two daylily patches, blooming garishly cheerful red and gold. The daughter looked up, and Chilton looked away.

“You are certain you checked the bedroom closet? Left-hand side, second drawer to the bottom?” he asked again, agitation rising.

He was looking for the more fashionable Chino shorts he rarely wore, preferring to overheat in long pants than expose his pale, door-knob knees to imagined ridicule. You told him the housekeeper must have misplaced them.

He clenched his fist as tightly as the pink, shiny-scarred claw could manage and went on a gruff, impotent rant about the help growing careless without him to keep them in check. (If anything, the “help” were desperate to keep you in check without him there to manage your habit of leaving everything out—your clothes on a chair, the cereal box on the counter.)

“I know, I know. Awful,” you nodded along to the music of his words, if not the lyrics. You wished he would change the subject, but he pressed on with his investigation of the Case of the Missing Shorts.

“Mrs. Pérez brought a load of laundry down from the bedroom last Wednesday,” he noted. Frederick had taken to watching the security feeds remotely from his laptop. “Has she been using the cheap dry cleaner on Cherry Street instead of the good one so she can skim the difference? I have explicitly instructed the staff not to use them—they have lost or ruined several articles over the years. Inform Mrs. Pérez that I will not stand for lazy—what?”

Your tense smile began emanating a tenser whine.

It was rather suspicious.

Frederick watched you for a moment, puzzled, and then resumed, “The new security guard shares my pant size. Perhaps—”

“I DID IT. I brought them to Good Will.”

“You what?!”

Clicking the wheelchair brake, you doubled over the back of it, laughing at your childish ruse and how seriously Frederick had taken it. God, the man could never let anything go! “Over a year ago! You never wore them!”

“Come here.” His clipped tone did not invite argument.

You walked around to the front of his chair, the repentant pout on your face strongly undermined by rounded cheeks that were barely holding back a chuckle.

He growled with affectionate anger—the kind where he wanted to grab behind your knees and pull you into his lap, telling you with a low purr exactly how much trouble you were in. Except at the moment, your weight crashing onto his skinny, bony lap would have bruised a femur and torn five stitches. And if he was not confident enough for a kiss, he was in no condition to promise punishments of that nature.

So he gave your rump a sharp smack and tried to make his mouth smirk in that playfully disdainful way that said, “I love you, but I am going to kill you. You know that, right?” Sometimes wanting to kill someone can be such a personal, intimate love language.

“Doctor Chilton!” you gasped, feigning shock. “Such a naughty patient. I have told you time and again, this is simply unprofessional.”

The old woman and daughter had moved on, leaving you alone in the garden.

He let out a soft huff of amusement, catching on to the new game you were playing. Back when he was the administrator of the BSHCI, you would often saunter into his office playing the oversexed patient to his sleazy therapist. Now the roles were reversed.

“You protest,” he said in a low, lecherous tone, “and yet you continue to lavish extra attention on me. Do not think I have not noticed.”

“I don’t know what you could mean,” you deflected coyly. “Please keep your hands to yourself, sir.”

He grabbed your hand and spun you to face him, skeletal fingers interlocking with yours. Even through the compression glove, you could feel how skinny they had become, knobby knuckles protruding.

“Doctor,” he corrected.

You swallowed. “Doctor.”

“Why deny it? You guard all my treatments for yourself like a prize when other nurses could do it. You crawl into my bed to warm me with your body heat—hardly standard practice. I think you like the attention,” he said, giving your ass another lurid slap.

“D-Doctor! I’m not supposed to—we’re not supposed to…”

“If you worked at my hospital, I would fire you for such fraternization. Yet you call me unprofessional.” His hand still rested on your ass.

“You would fire me, doctor? Why fire me when there is so much I could offer?”

“And what is it you would offer me?” he asked, voice thick with meaning. His fingers kneaded the fat of your ass gently. It would have been harder, more possessive, if his hands were at full strength.

Not long ago, getting an erection had been painful, though he’d had several corrective surgeries since then, and the grafting had time to heal. Perhaps the sunlight was sparking him back to life. He was in a flirtatious mood—more excited than you’d seen him in a long time, and you were not about to tell him to slow down.

“Anything you want, doctor.” You lowered yourself in front of his chair, kneeling between his legs and looking up at him expectantly.

His Adam’s apple bobbed.

No one else was in the garden, and statues and shrubberies hid it from the road, but it was not entirely private. Anyone could walk in or see from a window of the tall buildings. You were just pretending. You weren’t going to slip his cock out right there and suck it for all the world to see. And yet… it had been so long. The thought of your moist lips closing over his lonely, aching hardness, your head bobbing in his lap…

“You… are fascinated with me, nurse,” he observed, licking his non-lips. His composure was holding, but barely. “You have seen many patients, but never one as badly burned, have you?”

“No.”

“Does it excite you?”

You took a moment before answering. Part of him resented you for still finding him attractive. At his lowest, he even blamed you for wanting these brutal injuries to happen. A bird sang a few metallic notes on a nearby branch before fluttering down to drink from the fountain. You stroked the top of his narrow thighs, careful not to push too far by going near his cock, but he showed no sign of hesitation today. The heat in his eyes as he watched you was not accusing, but hungry.

“Yes,” you panted. “You are striking. I’ve never met anyone so strong, so resilient.”

“Do you dream of kissing me? Your most striking patient?”

“Yes.”

The sun beat down hotter, but it was only your own internal temperature rising. The birds seemed to pause in their songs, and the leaves on the trees ceased to flutter.

You had waited so long—was he really asking?

His gloved hand reached down between his legs, and nailless pink fingertips stroked the side of your face thoughtfully a few times. Then he motioned you to get up off your knees, offering his hand as a symbolic gesture only. You put some of your weight on the padded rubber armrest as you stood.

“It will not be pleasant. For either party, I imagine,” he said, breaking character.

“It will be for me.” Your voice was soft.

“I do not know what to do like this. Mash my teeth against your face?”

You laughed a little. It was probably more nuanced than that, but that sounded basically accurate. “We’ll find out together.”

He looked off into the distance, toward the humming road weaving through the city. A warm breeze brought the smell of sea off the harbor: salty, humid, and stagnant with rotted fish and garbage. “The memory of your lips against mine is already fading,” he said. “That memory is all I have left of them. Whatever this will be, it will not feel the same.”

“I know.” You rested a hand on his shoulder. The dark blue polo was informal for his old life, but the woven cotton texture was rich compared to the thin hospital gowns you were used to him wearing. The last kiss you shared with Frederick was preserved behind a glass display case in your memory palace. A new kiss might break the hermetic seal. You could forget what it felt like to kiss him before. But it seemed worth the price to build new memories—a future just as full of love as the past.

He looked up at you like a broken ceramic being pieced back together with gold. His eyes shone with love, but his shoulders were slumped low.

“You may say I’m a slutty nurse for wanting to kiss my patient, but you’re to blame!” you said, playing the game again. ��How could I resist your charm? I bet you seduce every nurse—I’m only your latest conquest!”

A smile tugged the corner of his mouth.

“No, my dear,” he purred, grabbing your arm and pulling you down to him until your face was inches from his. “Only you. I only want you.”

“Can I kiss you?”

He breathed in. He nodded.

You leaned the final inch down, and pressed your lips to his teeth.

The Red Dragon’s teeth sunk through flesh and tore deep. Coppery blood flooded his mouth, the taste so metallic and strong it drowned out almost everything else out—the pain, the unnatural tearing, little pops of veins, ligaments, and muscles stretching to their limits before giving up, his own screams. The truth of his face with all its illusions of grandeur was revealed before him: it was just meat. Nothing but raw, shredded meat.

“NO!” he screamed, and pushed you hard.

It was different than the peevish denials other times you’d tried to kiss. He pushed you away with so much force you staggered backward, and his wheelchair nearly tipped over. It reared on two wheels like a panicked horse and would have fallen except the worn brake gave way, and he shot backward several feet until the vacant bench stopped the chair’s momentum.

“No, no! Get away! No!” he begged no one, shaking and thrashing so violently he risked ripping his healing scars.

His back, legs, and arms were glued to the wheelchair, and he couldn’t escape. No—could have if he were desperate enough, strong enough. But he was terrified of ripping his skin off. The thought made him break out in a cold sweat and made it difficult to think straight. Dear god, he was afraid something happened to his back. Of being disfigured again.

He was afraid to die, but he dreaded even more the thought of surviving yet again to find another piece taken from him.

Not another. Not again.

If he cooperated, he had to be spared this time. He would cooperate. Do everything The Red Dragon said, and fate would be merciful. He had to go home. He had to go home. To see you again. It was not fair that he survived two attempts on his life only to die here. It was not fair! He was going to get married to the love of his life. Things were finally going right. The Dragon’s shadow fell over him. The acrid stench of his breath as he leaned down toward Frederick’s mouth—

“Frederick!”

You ran after him and tried to restrain him before he climbed out of the wheelchair and fell to the pavement, but it only made him struggle harder. Fuck. You weren’t sure if touching him again was a good idea, but you didn’t know what else to do. He was going to hurt himself.

“Shh, I’m here.”

Crouching next to him, you tried to keep him seated, murmuring soft, reassuring words. Eventually, he stopped thrashing to escape, his jerking limbs resigning themselves to passive trembling. His eyes were open, but they didn’t see you. They didn’t see anything but a dark room with a flickering projector.

You laid your head on his lap. “I’m right here. It’s OK. You’re safe, Frederick. You’re safe. Shh, shh...”

It took several minutes, but his breathing began to slow, and he began to calm down. His fingers found your hair and stroked it, mindlessly running over the contour of your scalp. Familiarity. Recognizing you, he grasped at your shirt to draw you closer, clutching you like a teddy bear to his chest. It was an awkward angle, but you shifted so your butt was partially supported by the bench he’d crashed into, and used the chair’s armrest to hold yourself in the bent position. Frankly, even if every muscle in your body cramped up, you weren’t going to leave him as long as he needed to hold onto you.

Finally, he whimpered your name and asked what happened.

“I… kissed you. I’m sorry.”

“Oh.”

He sniffed and wiped his face, which he discovered was soaked with tears, and looked off into the trees. You sat back onto the bench, straightening your crooked spine, but keeping a firm hold on his hand, staying close as he returned to reality. He would be embarrassed. Add this to the growing list of Ways Frederick Chilton is Broken and Useless. But for now, the humiliation was dulled by the fact that he was not in that room again, with the projector flickering. You stayed that way for a while, sitting in the dappled shade of the garden and the warm breeze, the fountain burbling a constant, relaxing, tuneless song.

“The last man to bring his lips to mine bit them off.”

“I’m so sorry, Frederick. I shouldn’t have been so stupid...”

He squeezed your hand. Straightened up in his chair. “I heard the FBI has the video. Have you watched it?”

You shook your head, then quickly added, “No,” aloud, knowing his vision was poor and still focused on the tree branches swaying and morphing in the wind. Jack Crawford had offered, but you didn’t want to see it. You couldn’t bear to.

It had been hard enough hearing him describe how Francis Dolarhyde glued him naked to his grandmother’s wheelchair and made him watch macabre home movies of the families he had slaughtered. His voice was too calm, too distant from the memory as he dictated graphic details for the Journal of Psychology, desperate to tell his story, grab his fame before he died.

You should have known how your mouth coming at his would make him feel. You were so caught up in your romantic imaginings, you forgot how kiss-like that moment of horror must have been, just before the pain.

The nightmare his life had been for months already, and would continue to be. The scar tissue that wouldn’t fully mature for two years. Two years wearing a compression suit to help them heal. Years of follow-up procedures so that he can continue to move. To breathe. To hear. Longer until he could get a new face. His entire life altered forever.

It started with a kiss.

“We don’t have to kiss. I should never have pushed you to,” you apologized, wincing preemptively.

You expected him to be angry. To sarcastically tell you, “Now you decide we don’t have to? Now that it is too late? What fine timing.”

“I am not weak,” he bristled instead, but his agitation only spanned the length of a breath. He squeezed your hand softly, and pulled you halfway into his chair to wrap his arms around your waist and back. “I did not think that would happen either,” he spoke comfortingly into your hair. “Attempting it for the first time in a wheelchair was a mistake. I should have been more aware of that, but I grow tired of not being able to show my affection. You are not the only one impatient for my recovery, darling. I want to try again.”

“Now?” You pulled back, widening your eyes at him.

“No,” he said plainly. “I think not.”

• ● • ━━━━━─ ••●•• ─━━━━━ • ● •

@beccabarba / @itsjustmyfantasyroom / @thatesqcrush / @dianilaws / @permanentlydizzy / @mrsrafaelbarba / @madamsnape921 / @astrangegirlsmind / @neely1177 / @onerestein / @dreamlover31 / @isvvc-pvscvl / @shroomiehomie / @storiesofsvu / @welcometothemxdhouse / @feedthemadness-sweetie / @law-nerd105 / @amelia-song-pond / @michael-rooker / @xecq / @madpanda75 / @alwaysachorusgirl / @bananas-pajamas / @leanor-min / @mad-girl-without-a-box / @katierpblogg / @worldofvixen / @sassyada / @barbingchilton

#Frederick Chilton x reader #my writing

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nightswithkookmin · 3 years ago

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Dear new friend,

I just finished reading your messages. First of all, thank you. I think I would have been less traumatized out here if a lot of people took to sharing their thoughts on matters such as these in the manner in which you do.

I think I set myself up too because I be wanting to participate in certain topics and discussions and so often I find myself trying to sieve through the vitriol and pejoratives.

The gender of the word is feminine not masculine. I don’t see how that is misinformation.

"Sorry, the misinformation bit was because I was thinking about that tweet that went viral about this word being used only for woman. The person said it was an adjective, and you said it was an adjective, so I thought you were basing this information on that tweet. That day was crazy, some people spread this, wanted to change his pronouns, trend a hashtag and were saying he had came out... This was too much. And the "debunked" thing was about this tweet, as well. Not about the words being feminine and masculine. That's a fact, you're right."

I had no idea a tweet went viral like that claiming he wanted to change his pronouns. That's wild and I disagree. Lol. I think I've always maintained he uses He/him pronouns and said time and again I do not think he wants to be emasculated at all. As I said, that would have made him transgender not bigender and thus defeat the purpose. To be bigender he has to be two genders at the same time not one.

But I have been following the discussions on this topic on the bird app and I try my best to bring nuance to certain discussions. I try. Lol.

I take note of the differences between your language and Latin as you rightly pointed out. But I also do see the similarities and I think the explanation you gave and the examples you provided gives me a better understanding of the language structure.

"Yeah, totally fine hahah We tend to interpret things according to our own experiences; for me, a gendered word is part of my daily life, normal, and I don't bat an eye about it. Is just a word, the importance is in its meaning ─ and it suits filter SOOO well. For you, it's something more. At the end of the day, art is here to be interpreted, and if Jimin doesn't explicitly explain the filter performance, tattoos, set, outfits... It's open for interpretation. (And I'm not a person that tries to find hidden meanings. I simply enjoy what I enjoy. I have this thing about being as accurate as possible, so I try to stick to facts (like: I don't feel comfortable saying he chose these words, because I don't know if HE was the person that chose it (in the sense that he was the one that bring it up to the staff/company). Maybe someone else showed it to him and he was like: "Nice! I want it!". But I feel okay saying he's had a tattoo with these words (A fact). Also I don't make a big deal of most things ─ for me Jimin is Jimin and I'm supporting him regardless, he's precious)

(But Memories 2020 is coming and I'm almost sure they are going to show filter behind the scenes!!!! So we're going to understand better this masterpiece (I HOPE SO))

I understand what you mean. Some people are inclined towards taking the literal meaning of texts or in this case art and not read much into situations beyond what is presented at face value- not me🤣🤣🤣🤣

I do the magnifying glass and errthang👁

I think humans are complex and there's always a possibility of a psychological and or pathological stimulus underscoring their behaviors, choices and actions in most cases.

But that aside, I think it's easier to take a heteronormative view on things sometimes because cis straight has always been the norm even in appreciating art- but truth is, coding and co opting codified expressions is almost always part of queer culture and behavior too. If any other queer celebrity had used that expression, I would be reading much into it too beyond its semantics.

For me it's simple, would I be reading too too much into the language and art choice of someone I thought was cis straight? Hell No. Straight is boring and blunt as fuck.

Unless of course they were being intentionally witty or secretive about something, I'd assume and expect their expressions to be pretty much straight forward- generally. I went home to be would mean just that.

If I sensed the author were queer coding Home would mean something else entirely to be. Home becomes a symbol not a word. And if he chose to write that in Latin and not the language they spoke naturally, I'd assume there's something about that language that he likes and perhaps uses to code a queer message.

For closeted queer people who live in a world where they are constantly coerced to take on a duality and have an expressional alter egos- two identical identities with one being the facade and pretense through which they openly and largely perform normalcy of self, the other being their real self which they tuck away because it is inconsistent with the acceptable norms- I'd a take a very different approach to their art. But that's me.

If a straight person said they needed escape, it would mean something totally different to me than say if a queer person said they needed escape. Because those two are escaping two very different things.

For example, the words Moon and moonlight used by a straight person means nothing to me- perhaps because I just don't care much to look for its deeper meaning beyond the literal meaning of the words as presented. If it appears in a queer person's parlance, even if in passing, I assume immediately they are referencing something much more deeper, meaningful and coded.

Queer coding is a thing you know? And it's born out of necessity not choice sometimes.

Take for instance BTS's proclivity to 'queer codify' their music. Moon and moonlight has become symbolic of the inner struggles of a queer person amongst black 'educated' queer men and women. It's come to symbolize cultural norms and expectations and how those affect queer people- perhaps of all race.

In the Movie Moonlight, which has become the epitome of queer black struggles and desires for liberation, this motif was used to represent the struggles of a black boy dealing with the pressures of a hyper masculine society.

When RM references this in 4 Oclock, 'the whole world is blue under the moonlight' is he queer coding or just appropraiting queer parlance as buzz word? That expression takes on a whole new meaning were he queer. Blue symbolizes queerness- a theory popularized of course by the Film. When V who once wrote an allegedly 'queer coded song' Stigma says he is blue- what does he mean now? On the surface blue means blue. Would you take a straightforward view on this or assume its symbolic? And what is it symbolic of?? Sadness?? Gayness?

If RM had an accompanying tattoo as compliment to the song in his performance that evoked similar sentiments or hinted at a possible second meaning I wouldn't assume that that tattoo meant nothing or that it didn't have a deeper meaning behind it.

It's just as how Lil Nas X posted a city of rainbows and people said 'rainbows are rainbows. Y'all shouldn't read much into it.' But for queer people that was pretty much a declaration of his sexuality.

Later he had to post again and reiterate that that rainbow post was his coming out moment. 'I thought I made it obvious.'

Somethings are pretty much obvious.

For JM who don't speak Latin- unless he is secretly fluent in which case my bad- I don't think he cares so much about the grammar of the language beyond it's meaning. And perhaps gender? Grammatical gender I mean. That's just because the first thing you learn about Latin is that all the nouns are gendered?

I won't lie. When I first learned that I was supper fascinated about grammatical gender and why speakers of the language felt a need to gender every word of the language.

In the end, we all don't know. I'm out here convinced two Asian men are so gay they can't straight to save their asses. I have a tendency to view everything they do through queer lens. If they are not gay I'm pretty much gaslighting them you know?

I'm always fascinated by different point of views on a myriad of subjects. Just as you said, our diverse experiences inform our experiences and perspectives. I just hope people acknowledge how their straightness informs their understanding of queerness too and how that has a tendency to be invalidating and dismissive of queer issues and experiences.

But to me it's like, if Jikook are gay why do you have to interpret what they do through straight lens?

Personally, I wouldn't interpret straight through queer lens and force that view on to straight people. That would be homonormative? Assuming rainbow means straight people are gay when they are not, moon means feminine to straight men, that the use of the word God makes one a Christian- that's just silly and bizarre.

I use Namaste often and suddenly some people here think I'm Indian. I wish. They have one hell of a culture.

When I was reading through your messages, all that kept playing in my head was- that's a very 'straight' view on the matter. Lol. Please tell me you got the pun. Lol.

I think my opinion will remain the same on the matter if you placed any queer person in Jimin's stead. Any queer person that I believed was queer and had hinted a few times at exploring a dual identity or going through that phase at least.

I think I'd enjoy your blog if you had one.

I love love the lesson on Italian or is it Spanish?

Also, I would love your take on V and Stigma. A lot of queer stans have a queer reading of the lyrics- I see the appeal however I don't have a queer reading of it at all. Thoughts??

Namaste.

Signed,

GOLDY

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eleanorbloom · 4 years ago

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When You’re Ready Ch. 06

Pairing: Bryce Lahela x f! MC (Eleanor Bloom) x Ethan Ramsey.

Word Count: 4.5k

Warning: SMUT 🍋 🍋 🍋 and cursing.

Summary: Bryce has decided to let go Eleanor because she’s in love with Ethan Ramsey. But a turn in her relationship with the attending might change Bryce’s plans.

A/N: Hello!

I have to tell that a part of this chapter was inspired by the illustration posted here on Tumblr. It’s canon to me that Bryce would flirt with MC pretending he’s a stranger, and not a single soul will change my mind.

Hope you enjoy the chapter, that’s, like, 70% NS*W. You have no idea how much I struggled to write this one 🥵 . He’s so fucking hot and this fucking virus doesn’t let me have booty calls and, well, you know what I mean, the abstinence is killing me, so I have to live vicariously through Eleanor to have some action in my life lol.

Taglist @utterlyinevitable @shanzay44 @choicesficwriterscreations @laiba-the-person @starrystarrytrouble @lahellacute @lucy-268 @aylamreads @binny1985

Let me know if you wanna be added to my taglist!

___________

Chapter 6: Cool.

I like us better when we’re intertwined

The way you touch me got me losin’ my senses

Eleanor woke up the next day with a big smile on her face. She couldn’t remember the last time she woke up that happy, but surely, it’d been months. Enthusiastically, she got up from her bed to start the day. Once she was all cleaned and dressed, she went to the kitchen, where Elijah and Sienna were making breakfast. As she started to have breakfast, her friends bombarded her with questions about her absence the night before. After teasing them with evasive answers, she finally told them what had happened, and that she and Bryce were dating.

Sienna couldn’t resist an over-excited reaction and Elijah looked really happy for both of his friends. For Eleanor, who had been suffering too much because of Ramsey, and for Bryce, because he knew how much he cared for Eleanor, and how much he had been doing to make her happy.

Once the three of them were ready for another day of work, they headed to Edenbrook.

The moment their eyes met in the locker room that morning, there were sparkles just like the night before. Eleanor was feeling a little shy and nervous, as it always happens when a relationship starts, but even if Bryce was a million light-years over the moon, he cared to not make Eleanor feel uncomfortable, pressured, or overwhelmed. Just when Eleanor agreed, he planted a chaste kiss on her lips when he approached her to say hi. Even if she was feeling a little weird, after the kiss she felt relieved, calmed. She still couldn’t understand what power had Bryce over her.

Just as what happened that morning, things started to develop at Eleanor’s pace. At first, Eleanor didn’t feel comfortable enough to display too much affection in public, but as the days went by, she started to not mind that Bryce would steal a kiss from her lips or her cheek when they would bump into each other at the hospital; or that when they were at Donahue’s, Bryce would almost always put an arm around her when they were sitting together. In fact, after a week, she would find herself craving for those kisses or his touch.

One day, Eleanor was at the Nurse Station doing some paperwork, when suddenly someone approached her and said:

“Hey, I’m Bryce.”

Eleanor looked up. He was leaning on the desk with his statuesque figure and his usual flirtatious, megawatt smile.

“Hello, I’m Eleanor.” She answered, trying to look serious.

“Nice to meet you. You work here?”

“Yeah.”

“Since when? I haven’t seen you around”

“Mmm, about a year”

“Really? And how the hell I’ve been missing this angel from heaven?”

Eleanor laughed

“So smooth"—She muttered to herself—"Maybe the devil got you distracted.”

Bryce smiled knowingly.

“How are you, beautiful?”

“Good”—She smiled— “And better now that I see your smile.”

“Seriously?”

Eleanor blushed. She didn’t even think about it for a single moment before speaking from her heart, but she had no regrets. Being able to surprise him with her own feelings, and seeing him out of place without having anything flirty to say, was a divine gift.

She had been overanalyzing her feelings over the last few days, wondering if she should tell him how she felt or not, fearing that her words could confuse him, but finally had decided that she wouldn’t hide how she was feeling about him. After all, the only way Bryce could be feeling sure about her choosing him was hearing it explicitly from her mouth. Other than that, everything she says was part of the development of their relationship.

”Seriously.— She confessed.—I was missing you.”

“Damn, if I was feeling fantastic seeing you, I’m gonna burst hearing you say that.”

Eleanor knew it wasn’t an exaggeration. Bryce had a giant smile on his face, and she could see the emotion and stars blinding his eyes.

“Don’t burst please, just contain yourself so I can keep seeing you, okay?”

“Okay, I’ll do my best.”

“Thank you.”

“I was missing you too.”

Eleanor smiled at him tenderly for a few seconds, then she looked back at the folder in her hands, trying to finish it soon. As she felt that Bryce continued to stare at her without saying anything, Eleanor raised an eyebrow.

“Why you keep looking at me, weirdo?”

“Oh, sorry."—He replied, looking a bit uncomfortable. ”I-“

“Do you even work here or are you some kind of psycho who likes to watch interns doing their job?”

Bryce relaxed as he noticed Eleanor had been teasing him. It seemed that what Eleanor had told him, had caught him really off guard.

“Well, I do work here.—He replied, regaining composure— Don’t you see this surgical scrubs?

“Yeah, but you could get them anywhere as a disguise to your stalker hobby.”

Bryce chuckled.

“That’s true.”—He conceded—"Why don’t we go somewhere more… private… so I can demonstrate to you that I really work here?”

“What the hell, you just met me like 2 minutes ago and you wanna go somewhere private already?”

Bryce laughed, surprised

“Damn, I guess that was very bold.”

“Yes, but I like that, Dr. Bryce …?”

“Lahela”

“I like that, Dr. Lahela, and even if my mum taught me to not talk to strangers or go anywhere with them, I’ll join you once I finish with this paperwork.”

“Perfect. You know where to find me”—He murmured before walking out toward their favorite supply closet.

Once Eleanor was ready, she headed to the meeting point.

“Well then, Dr. Lahela, how are you going to show me you work here?”—She asked entering the room. Bryce approached her instantly, pressing her against the wall.

“I’m a surgical intern, which means I have magic hands. So…”—He took her by the hips to bring her closer to his body until they were a few inches apart. Both felt a lack of air the moment their eyes met. There was hunger in his eyes, and Bryce could say Eleanor’s mouth was thirsty of his kisses as she was slicking her tongue over her lower lip and then she gulped.

He tilted his head and began to short the distance slowly, until he captured her lips, a few gentle brushes first, just to savor her avidly after that. Eleanor wrapped her arms around his neck, converting the kiss in a voracious exchange of hidden desires.

In a matter of seconds, Bryce gripped her leg to his waist, and with his free hand encircled her waist to bring her incredibly tight, her bodies flushed. He soon moved his kisses to her cheek, then down her jaw and neck. At the feeling of his lips brushing her sensitive spot, Eleanor was invaded with goosebumps that made angle her head back involuntarily. Seeing his provocations were well received, Bryce started to rock his hips slowly to her core.

“Bryce”—She sighed when she felt a hand wandering under her scrubs, touching the skin of her back.

“Yeah?”

She pulled him away gently, biting her lower lip. Bryce took his hand away and loosed the grip on her hip.

“Elle, sorry I…”

“No, it’s not that—She assured, her face colored with heat, her chest pounding faster.—I… I want you to keep going, but not here.”

“Oh, okay.”

“I know we used to do it here before, but just for this occasion, I would like some normality, if you know what I mean.”

Bryce chuckled.

“Of course, Elle. I’d like that too.”

“So… My place, yours?”

“My place. Had to be tomorrow, though. I’m on a 24-hour shift.”

“Okay, that’s fine by me.”

They stared at each other, Bryce looking a bit hesitant to kiss her again, as things could get out of control if they keep kissing. Eleanor didn’t mind and brought her lips to his. The way he kissed her always left her craving for more, so she wouldn’t waste another second without having him.

He wrapped her waist and swapped positions, now he was against the wall and started to slide down, and Eleanor followed him until Bryce was sitting on the floor and Eleanor was sitting over his lap, her legs straddling him.

“Which part of ‘not here’ neither of us understood?”—Eleanor asked, playfully stroking his hair.

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep my word. I can deal with the self-control but only until tomorrow night.”

Eleanor resumed the kiss. The heat, the anticipation was irresistible, so she couldn’t help but move her hips softly against Bryce, feeling his bulge pressing her core.

“Elle”—He sighed—“I'll keep my word but…” He couldn’t finish. He placed both hands impatiently in her ass, his skin was aching just to feel it between his fingers.

“I can’t wait for tomorrow”—She sighed as she felt his tongue and then his teeth in the crook of her neck, and his hand all over her back and hips, like he was losing his mind in the touch of her skin.

“Me neither, but we’ll have to”

“Yeah, hope time flies.”

After a few moments of sweet torture, Bryce pulled away slightly to look at her in the eyes.

“I’ve got an idea, but that means to prolong our own agony.”

“What is it?”

“Let’s go dancing? We have done almost everything but go clubbing.”

“Oooooh, yes! I’ve been thinking about it too, love the idea.”

“Tomorrow then?”

“Yes, and after that, we go to your apartment to finish this.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice”

The next day Eleanor walked toward the Atrium fully dressed in a clubbing mood, feeling like it has been ages since she was dressed like that. A tiny black leather skirt that covered sufficiently her bum and tights with a red lace tank top that defined the curves of her waist with almost surgical precision, and over it, a matched leather jacket. Bryce was waiting for her in a multicolored shirt with a black cardigan on her hands.

The moment she was in front of him, he didn’t even conceal the hungriness in his eyes.

“Shit. I don’t know if I can take you out to dance dressed like that.”

“Oh, come on, let me have this put on for at least an hour, then you can take it off me at your please.”

“Damn Eleanor, you’re wild tonight”

“I’m in a clubbing outfit, Bryce. When I’m dressed like this, I’m a hoe, so get used to it.”

“But you’ll only be a hoe with me, right?”

“Of course, I’ll be your hoe tonight”

“Oh, crap, let’s go already before I drag you to my apartment.”—He complained, taking her by the hand.

After a short uber ride, they sauntered into a colorful nightclub, loud music already beating. Some hip hop and Latin hits. The fact that the club had Latin hits, was a special request by Eleanor, due that she enjoyed dancing reggaeton because of her Latin roots. After a few shots, Eleanor felt the music took control of her body, so she held Bryce by the hand and guide him into the middle of the crowd, moving her hips to the sexy Latin song that was playing. Bryce followed suit and placed a hand on her hip.

“It will always amaze me how well you dance, really”—She whispered in his ear.

Bryce kept pace with her, even though sometimes they would only mock and overact some moves just to end up laughing and kissing passionately.

After ten minutes of dancing, Eleanor was feeling the heat after realizing that dancing was foreplay for what was next. The way Bryce was moving his hips, the way he was touching her skin, roaming her hips, her waist, and how he pressed her back against his chest, was being the sexiest foreplay they could’ve ever done that night.

Eleanor was feeling the anticipation, the desperation to touch his body, to feel his mouth against every inch of her skin. And Bryce wasn’t thinking any differently.

Half an hour later, they were all sweated. But that just made them look even sexier. Eleanor gave him a heated, sloppy kiss, while Con Calma from Daddy Yankee was invading the dancefloor. She started to move her hips incessantly, then she turned her back to him seductively. Bryce pulled her by the waist, her body flush against his chest, and whispered in her ear:

“You moving like that is going me crazy”—Then he kissed the crook of her neck while one hand was wandering over her breasts and the other at her hips and tights not minding they were in a public space. Eleanor shuddered then turned back to him, and kissed him again, this time hard.

"Let’s go to your apartment."—She said in a husky murmur.—"I’m done with this foreplay.”

Bryce looked at her with such hungriness, that neither of them could suppress the desire for each other as if the world was about to end. Bryce lowered his hand past her hips, to caress her butt under her skirt, and grabbed it with both hands.

“Hey, someone’s eager”

“Can you tell?”—He whispered as he rocked his hips against hers.

Eleanor felt his bulge for the first time and didn’t even hesitate before put hand subtly over his pants, caressing him while feeling how it tightened at her touch.

“Fuck, Eleanor”—He groaned in her ear.

“I can’t wait to have it in my hands, in my mouth.” She whispered in a sultry voice.

“Oh, come on, let’s go”—He commanded, taking her by the hand. He practically dragged her through the dancefloor. In a matter of minutes, they had collected their clothes from the wardrobe and gotten a taxi.

It was the longest trip of their lives, between trying to take their hands off each other to not put a scene on the taxi; and trying to conceal the panting in their breaths, while the clothes were itching in their bodies, and the dirty words said were resonating in their minds.

When they reached the elevator in the building, Bryce took her cheeks and kissed her hard.

“Finally. I don’t know if I could’ve handled another minute”—He said, his voice sultry.

“Neither do I”—She replied, tugging his hair tightly.

When they reached the floor, he pushed her down the hall without parting lips, not even when they got to the door. Bryce opened it up almost blindly. They stepped inside, Bryce slamming the door shut while pulling Eleanor against the door, devouring her lips ravenously, drinking from her skin in every inch he caressed with his lips.

“Fuck yes”—She sighed. Bryce took her jacket off. He observed her lace tank top.

“Finally I can get rid of this sinful piece of fabric that’s been bothering me the whole night”—He said while cupping her breast tightly.

“You’ll have to wait a bit more”—She murmured, the moment she started to slid her hands over his torso, his muscles taut under his clothes. She removed his cardigan and shirt in one motion, leaving her torso bare. She watched him carefully, hungrily a few seconds, before began to kiss him all over his chest, pecs, and nipples.

“Eleanor”—Bryce shuddered at her touch, feeling her hands on his chest and her tongue stimulating his nipples. He smiled at the fact she remembered how much he loved this.

"God, I wanted this so …"—She whispered as she left a trail of kisses all over his torso—"So much.”

Feeling a bit dizzy, Bryce took her face and led her to his mouth. A dance of lips and tongues that became more and more ferocious, thirsty, needy. They needed more flesh, more heat, more pleasure. Bryce unzipped her skirt and pulled it down in a blink. In the next, his hands were skimming her ass with his hands expertly, while licking and biting the crook of her neck, just to finally slip his finger middle in her wet core. She moaned at his touch, cursing him. He just chuckled.

Then, he resumed his task, sliding his lips to the junction of her breasts, removing the annoying top in a single movement. When he intended to get rid of her bra, he stopped in his tracks, stunned at the look of her figure deliciously adorned in garnet-laced lingerie. He gasped when he met her eyes and found she was looking at him as if she knew how gloriously she looked that night. That self-assured look, that wasn’t recurrent in her, made his heart skip.

“God, you’re the most beautiful creation of the universe.”

“After you?”

“No. Top spot.”

“Wow, now that’s a compliment, Johnny Bravo.”

They both laughed and kissed tenderly.

“I wanna taste every inch of you”—He muffled after a few seconds, biting her ear.

“What are you waiting for?”

He brought his lips to her neck, first sliding soft kisses until he finally opened his mouth and began to bite her. Eleanor tugged his hair at the sensation in her sensitive spot. Bryce moved his hands to her back, unclasping her bra and tossing it to the ground. He massaged both breasts with his soft hands, just to then capture her nipples with his mouth, tasting and drinking the sweetness of her skin, of her pleasure.

“Holy fuck, yes”—She whimpered, feeling an electric shock waving to her core.

Suddenly, Eleanor felt a rush of pleasure in her sex. She opened her eyes just to find that Bryce had reached under her panties and was working on her sweet spot delicately.

“Oh God, Bryce”

“Ya like that?

The panties fell to the floor, his hands still rubbing her core, while her legs began to shake. She brought one leg up to Bryce’s hip to hold on him.

“Yes. Fuck, yes, just like… Ahhh”—She moaned as his finger pick up speed—“Bryce!”

“Yes, I love when you cry my name, babe, I wanna hear you.”

“Br… Fff... ”—But she couldn’t say anything.

Eleanor closed her eyes, completely overwhelmed with the sensations on her body.

"Look at me"—He ordered, serious.

Eleanor obeyed and looked at Bryce, who was staring at her hungrily as he continued to work on her clit.

"Bryce…” —She sighed, incapable to take her eyes off him, hypnotized. As if a magnet attracted her gaze to Bryce’s eyes, who had a serious and excited look that she had never seen before.

Suddenly he parted from her and started to kiss her shoulders, her chest, her abdomen until he reached the origin of her ecstasy. She felt his tongue gently caressing her clit, then devouring her folds eagerly.

“Ohmygod, Bryce”—She moaned, pulling his hair with both hands, completely desperate.

"Bryce, fuck…"—Her legs began to tremble incessantly, her strength leaving her body— "I’m gonna fall …”

In one swift motion, Bryce stood up, took her in his arms and laid her down on the couch that was a few feets away; and got on his knees. He took her tights gently in his arms to supported them on his shoulders, then he leaned to her sex, and began to move his head and tongue in circles, and then in lines, alternating the rhythm and intensity of the touch.

“Mmmm. You taste so good”—He sighed.

Eleanor looked down and realized that Bryce was staring at her, all focused on her pleasure. She stroked the strands of hair that fell in his forehead, and then rested a hand on his head, tugging his hair gently as she guided a pace, while with the other hand she tried to keep balance on the couch.

“Bryce”—She whimpered. Bryce huffed against her folds, making Eleanor pant at the vibrations in her clit. Then he took both hands to her breasts and started to massage and grip her nipples. Eleanor started to move her hips involuntarily. She was close to her climax.

“Give it to me, baby”—Bryce whispered, parting from her core just a second, and then he introduced two fingers in her center while licking her clit with the tip of his tongue quickly.

Eleanor couldn’t hold it anymore

“Yes, Bryce, FUCK YES!”—She groaned loudly, from the depths of her core, convulsing on the couch to finally vanishing into thin air.

She had reached a limit never before explored, which immersed her into a cloud of pleasure that caused her to float peacefully. Her head was spinning, losing track of time and space, feeling like she was floating in a sky full of pastel tones and sweet scents. It was warm and quiet.

She still could feel his tongue in her, getting every bit of her juices, savoring it like it was the most precious nectar, causing her a soft but pleasant sensation.

She didn’t know how much time had passed, but when she opened her eyes, she found herself being carried by Bryce like a koala bear to his room.

He placed her in the bed, delicately. She tried to narrow her eyes in Bryce’s direction, but it was still very blurry. She could tell, however, that he was taking off her pants, leaving only his underwear, and then he lunged to her side.

“Fuck”—She sighed.

“What’s wrong?”

"Umh? Nothing, just…"—She said, turning her face towards him, unable to look at him.

Bryce giggled

“What, you still haven’t come back?”

“No, I’m still floating somewhere… in a warm pink sky, near a black hole, probably.”

“Oof, I was that good, uh?”

"Good it’s an understatement"—She sighed.

Bryce rejoiced in the sight of Eleanor still with the effects of the orgasm. While she was regaining clarity, he turned to her, leaning on his elbow, to observe every inch of her exposed skin. He slid his fingertips on his favorite spots; her thighs, her hips, her waist, her breasts, her shoulders, and finally her soft little hands.

After a couple of minutes, Eleanor turned to him, exposing the curve of her waist even deeper. Bryce couldn’t help but grab her by the waist and pull her closer to his body.

“What kind of magic was that?”

“So advanced, that You-Know-Who would be jealous.”

Eleanor laughed hard. Then, she moved even closer to Bryce, sharing the warmth of their bodies. She kissed him sweetly while pushing him back onto the bed, laying on top of him. Soon, she brought her kisses to his neck, his sweet scent lusciously provocative made her more thirsty. Then she followed down his chest, his taut abdomen muscles feeling warm; until she reached the edge of his hips. She got to her knees in the middle of the bed and helped him remove his boxer. She caressed his exposed skin a few seconds, and then she leaned over him again, continuing the kisses on his hips, thighs, and then around his length. She felt his tension, the anticipation to feel her mouth in his sweet spot.

Eleanor sat back for a moment to stare at Bryce, the erotism of his figure was difficult to avoid. Bryce was serious but hungry, his expression a bit affected because of the anticipation. His naked body, with his erection not yet full, was a sight that exceeded all the dirty expectations she had had about Bryce in the last few days.

“Not for nothing all I’ve gotten on my mind since I left the supply closet was you, and the thought of eating you out tonight.”

“You have gotten incredibly good at dirty talk, what happened?”

“You.”

Eleanor wet her lips and leaned again into his crotch. She took his length with both hands and kissed the tip, first slowly and delicately, until it entered in her mouth, gaining more shape inside her. With the help of her hand, he began to stimulate the base, while with his mouth and tongue she drew circles on the tip

"God, Eleanor…"—He growled between groans—"You’re amazing.”

“Mmmm—She huffed, completely focused on him.

After a few moments, Bryce tugged her hair softly

“I want you, babe. Come with me.”

Eleanor got on her knees and watched him carefully lying on the bed, his face a little sweaty and excited. She approached him slowly, leaving her lips millimeters from him.

“I want you too. Since yesterday, and even before that.”

She kissed him. Suddenly Bryce grabbed her hips and sat her on his lap, her legs straddling him. Eleanor was surprised by his unexpectedness but smiled provocatively.

“I like it when you grow impatient.”

“I’ve been too patient, in fact.”

He kissed her hard, and after founding her entry, he pushed himself inside her. They both shuddered.

“Oh my god, yes”

“Finally”—He sighed with relief.

Eleanor began to move over him, guided by the grip of him in her hips. After a while, they parted briefly so Bryce could sit against the headboard of his bed. Once Eleanor straddled him, they kissed again, this time like desperate animals, as if each other were water and they hadn’t had a drop for days. The desperation growing inside them was primal. Eleanor lifted her hips over Bryce’s crotch, faster and faster. After a few moments, they both began to moan, their breaths colliding between kisses.

“Ohh, Bryce, you feel so fucking good inside me.”

Without warning, Bryce shifted his hands to her ass and gave her a loudly slap, causing Eleanor unexpected waves of pleasure inside her.

“Oooh fuck, yes”—She whimpered, her thrusts increasing swiftly.

“You like it?”

“Y-yes, yes, so much”

Bryce did it again, this time harder.

“Oh God, you feel amazing, Elle."—He groaned deep, sweat droplets starting to trickle down his face.

Eleanor cleared his face, then pulled him close to kiss him hard. They parted when the sensations began to consume them and their bodies began to shake.

"Ohh, ohh, yes!—She moaned, arching her back.

Bryce captured a nipple in his mouth, bringing her over the edge. She cried out his name desperately, her muscles squeezing hard, making Bryce obtain his own release seconds after.

They both found themselves in the middle of that ecstasy. Although orgasms feel different for each person, somehow they both felt like they reached exactly the same climax. Because the same cloud lulled them, and the same warmth sheltered them. Maybe the pink sky Eleanor mentioned before, rested on Bryce’s mind, making his heaven look just like hers.

Eleanor rested her forehead against his, her breathing ragged, their faces glistening with sweat. Bryce hurled himself onto the bed, taking Eleanor with him, propping her up on his lap.

"Shit"—He gasped a few minutes later when he regained some breath.

Eleanor pulled away, all sweaty and sticky, and lunged to his side, still gasping for air.

“That was… Wow. I’m glad we didn’t do it in the supply closet”—She sighed, pure satisfaction in her voice and face.

“This 36-hours waiting did worth it.”

“Yes, but I don’t know if I can handle it again.”

“There’s no need now, we both kept our promise to wait till this moment, and now that we made it…”

“Thank you for understanding and for waiting.”

“Nah, I wanted it that way too, even if yesterday seemed otherwise.”

Eleanor leaned to kiss him softly. They both cuddle in the middle of the bed until they went for the inevitable second round.

______

Chapter 7.

#bryce lahela #bryce lahela x mc #bryce x mc #bryce x casey #Open Heart #open heart choices #open heart fanfiction #oh choices #choices stories you play #choices #playchoices #choices fanfiction #Oh fanfic

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tinlizziedlinwa · 3 years ago

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Developing Sexuality, Discovering Kinks, a Spinal Injury, and Barely Beginning to Explore the Edges of the LGBTQ+ Community

Howdy, y’all. I’m just gonna put this out there - If it’s not for you, just keep on a’scrollin’!

Now, I’ve not really explicitly spoken about my sexuality and how it’s evolved over my almost five decades of life. So, I’m about to start, and believe me, your patience and kindness will be appreciated. If you choose to be a close-minded, conservative, cis-asshole then I strongly suggest you leave right the fuck now. Thank you :-)

If you want to get to know me a little bit more and talk of incontinence and sexuality doesn’t scare you, please continue!

Decade 01: Around four years old, I have my first memories of things related to my as yet totally undeveloped sexuality. No history of physical abuse - Don’t worry about that. It was finding my mother’s menstrual pads. I saw pictures of them in underwear, so I took one and put it into mine. It felt so right and so amazing! I don’t really know how to describe it, but it felt like I needed the whole package of them in my underwear all at once! I got in trouble for using up a package that my mom needed and I didn’t understand why she needed them yet. But I made my first “diaper” out of pads and tighty-whities when I was only four years old. Since I’m gonna be using a lot of numbers, I’m gonna cheat and sacrifice the “proper way” of spelling them out if they’re ten or less.

At 5, I knew I wasn’t built right. I had this thing I peed through that girls didn’t have. Boys had them. But I wasn’t supposed to be a boy! I didn’t like it and hated the feeling of it touching my legs (still do...). I started asking questions about things. Now, my parents are the stereotypical Boomers, “trapped” in a loveless marriage by dependent children and their own sense of “honor.” Dad was a Medical Corpsman who became a Physician’s Assistant (PA) after retiring, while Mom used to be a Wave (nurse) in the Navy, but became a stay-at-home Mom when she started having children. I’ve 2 brothers and 1 sister, the last of them born 10 years before me. So, when I questioned things, Dad’s response was usually to hand me a medical book and tell me to look it up. Mom’s response was usually, “go ask your father.” So, there I was, a 5-year old with a head full of partially-understood terminology (at best!) and a bunch of clinical photography in anatomy and physiology books. At least I learned the purely physical differences between boys and girls and why I was one and not the other. This made me mad. So. Very. Mad. I cried a lot for a while, finding out that I would never become what I feel I was supposed to be. But I kept reading....

When I was 6 years old, I wrote a letter to my parents explaining how I felt about my body and how it made me feel inside and how I wished I could change and be the girl I’m supposed to be and would they be ok with helping me do this some day?

It was not received well. Not well at all. I’ve spent the last 40 years trying to get over their reaction to it and I still hate them for their reactions with a passion. I feel like I was truly shattered, and the glue I’ve had to use over the years to put myself back together has never been the right type and pieces of me keep falling apart.

Entering Decade 02 (10 to 20 years old): Puberty, damn it! None of my “researches” had even hinted at ways to stop it, and my body started changing in ways that made me very uncomfortable, but there was also this attraction I kept feeling towards some people, and I started getting erections. Now, I knew what was happening and yes, it did feel good to play with myself, but it also felt wrong in that I should have someone entering me, not me entering them, so when I masturbated that’s what I dreamed of - being entered and feeling them expand inside me, them giving themselves up in me, losing control and exploding into me and feeling their satisfaction as my own at having been so desirable. Cockwarming them gently back to hardness and having my own way with their body as their hands stroked my breasts and hips.... Eventually I would orgasm in real life, while dreaming my dream.

I have never had a blow-job. Several girlfriends have attempted, but honestly that’s like the fastest way to shut me down. It instantly kills my dream between one heart-beat and the next, causing me to feel absolutely horrible about myself and this carcass I’m trapped in. I should be going down on you, tasting, caressing, nuzzling and lapping up your wetness as I get more and more achy and wet for you.... Sticking my dick in your mouth is absolutely the worst thing that can happen during any attempt at sexy-times for me. I’d rather have diarrhea on a crowded school-bus.

The problem was, I had been emotionally terrorized by my parents (and now I know how they controlled my access to information...) and the area I grew up in was populated by fairly conservative folks, so I had no exposure to other ways of living and had no idea I could express my sexuality in any way other than by being masculine with it. Ergo, I was very much in the closet, hiding my thoughts and feelings as best I knew how, and retreated from situations that might expose my inner workings. Hence, I’m an introvert who overshares o.0 Start unstacking the bricks from my walls and Watch Out! You might get more than you bargained for :-\

Decade 03 (20 to 30 years old): I was just positive I didn’t want kids. Also had no clue what to do with myself, so I landed in Alaska for about a decade. Isolated, small town, conservative folks (a church on every corner, attended at least twice a week). Repressive. No sex for 8 of those 10 years. Met my (now ex-) wife up there. Internet actually got off the ground and we bought a computer, modem, and had an AOL account! This was around 2002′ish or so. Yeah, I watched the twin towers fall on a tv in a bar in Alaska. But while in Fairbanks, I discovered the old Usenet Newsgroups... and that led me straight back into my diaper-fetish which I’d almost forgotten about... omg, seeing those first photos... I can’t describe the feelings that burned in me.

Decade 04 (30 to 40 years old): Left Alaska and moved to western Washington State. Worked as a Medical Assistant for about 5 years, then re-invented myself as a welder when I got a Federal job. Learning a whole new trade wasn’t easy. Shittons of practice later I was good at it and loving my career, until a toolbag fell on my head in 2008. It could have killed me had I been in any other position. As it was, it hit the top of my head while my spine was almost perfectly straight up’n’down, causing a couple of discs in my neck to blow out. One completely ruptured and the other bulged so badly it could never heal and restricted my movement (couldn’t look up or pull my chin in). To this day I still have a smallish “shadow” on my cervical spinal nerve where the disc exploded and a “dent” where the next one down bulged out. The doctors think that’s why I’m incontinent and really struggle to get hard-ons anymore.

Here’s the rub: I’ve hated this body of mine forever. I’m not supposed to get hard-ons in the first place! I’m supposed to have breasts, hips, hair, a flat front and a curvy bottom, and you should be making passes at me, not vice versa!

So, rather than pursue medical (surgical) options to deal with the urinary and occasional fecal incontinence, I choose to wear diapers and give myself regular enemas. This way I can kinda (mostly) control the #2 and keep it from happening in public, while I can let my bladder just run on it’s built-in autopilot (which is really random, btw). Wearing diapers also helps me with tucking! I can pull the dick out, pop the balls up inside where they belong, tuck the dick as far back as I can and put my diaper on tight. Bingo! A flat front! And a bit of a poofy bottom! YES!!

Decade 05 (40 to 47′ish years old): I’m beginning to feel slightly more confident in my sexuality, though I’m still not comfortable actually trying to seek out anyone special... but yeah - I’m an introvert by nature. Probably need to get adopted by someone because I’m not sure I’ll ever really be brave enough to really reach out first.... But now I’m able to afford nice diapers, I’m buying women’s jeans/pants/sweaters/onesies, and I’m feeling so much better about myself when I’m able to dress up. Keeping my chest and legs shaved helps, too. When I look down and see long, course, curly body-hair... ugh. Hair in the armpits and groin is what’s normal. Chest hair? Get it off! Looking at myself in the mirror, I still hate many aspects of my physical self, but when I’m freshly shaved, diapered and wearing women’s jeans and a lovely pink sweatshirt or just lounging around in a cute diaper and huge sweater, I’m much more able to ignore the things I don’t like.

Lately, as I’ve begun exploring my sexuality a little more, I’ve discovered the joys of dildos. Lemmie tell you what, guys. A traditional male orgasm doesn’t hold a candle to what I’ve felt while playing with a good dildo. After a good, thorough clean-out in the shower (I have a shower-attachment with multiple nozzles and use the long black rubber one), I’ve used a dildo that’s got a bit of a bend near the tip - it’s shaped like a real penis, normal size (not humongous), with a bit of a crook near the glans. By holding the balls & suction cup in hand, it can be inserted and moved in-n-out at that perfect angle to stimulate *all* the right spots inside... I can honestly say I’ve peed, cum, and blew that dildo across the room as my knees hit the floor and I forgot my name during the best, most intense, can’t-walk-for-a-minute whole-body orgasms I’ve ever experienced in my life. The area between the anus and scrotum feels so very hot and heavy, like it’s going to burst, it’s not truly painful but almost close? - It’s an amazingly satisfying feeling. I’d love to hear from you girls out there... Are my orgasms anything similar to yours?

Some day, my dream is to meet someone who can understand me, who can feel where I’m coming from, who can love me even when I’m having difficulty loving myself. Someone who is kind to my broken soul, and who’s idea of a hot date may involve a stop at the adult toy store!

Edited on 01OCT2021: I’m not looking for a Mommy or a Domme. I’m an adult with adult responsibilities and concerns. I’m looking for a partner who’s also fairly self-sufficient. I own my own home, work full time, and being an introvert I need lots of alone time. Someone who’s open and accepting of the fact that I’m diapered 24/7/365 and am perfectly capable of changing myself. And she’ll understand that I don’t just wanna get her out of her jeans for sexy-times, but I also wanna try them on.

Edited again on 02OCT2021: As I’ve just begun actually exploring my sexuality, I’m starting to think I seem to fit into the “enby” grouping (even as I don’t like being stuffed into a box, I find myself doing just that, to myself! Damn categories...). I don’t know all the lingo yet and it feels like the terminology is a living thing that is always changing. Even though I’ve always found women to be super attractive, and I also really enjoy wearing women’s clothes and have dreamed of being a woman for decades, every once in a blue moon a guy really turns me on. I’ve got fantasies about going down on her while he enters me, his hands on my hips pulling me in as he gently thrusts, speeding up slowly as I’m getting wetter, he’s sliding in and out of me faster and faster and I’m lapping up her juices, buried in her scent, the orgasm in all of us building until we simultaneously explode. Then, once we all have our breath back, each of us gently diapers one another. The idea of feeling my diaper sticking to my bum as his seed dribbles out of me is really turning me on again right now! Hearing our crinkles as we move, cuddling in a contented pile, patting bottoms all around.

Am I a “bottom?” Is there such a thing as an independent “bottom”? More research is needed!

#tinlizziedl #Info about me #30Sep2021 #personal #Sexuality

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hidelaney · 5 years ago

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Hi Delaney!

Ah, yes the quarantine. It’s getting to me. Definitely. Suddenly I have no office to go to. But it’s good, I think. Make the CEO realize the upper management has no literal reasons to keep us in the office. Like at all. Seriously, everyone from my team is working from home and the level of productivity is actually better. Because guess what? Not having people breathing down our necks is SUPER helpful. So HA!

Okay, about Larry Stylinson. You’re right, I did fall into YouTube Blackhole. And Twitter. And I just watched 1D San Siro concert. By watching, I mean I actually paused the work I’m doing and looked at the screen while it played. Admittedly I was also doing chores but! It wasn’t just background music! It counted!

When I said I could put Larry Stylinson in a microwave and be done with it, I mean the theories and compilation videos are so readily available and easy to digest like, comparable to instant meals.

It’s so neatly packaged, too. Like, I was introduced to Larry Stylinson basically yesterday. Now I could recite the storyline in my head whenever I please. Or when I want to please you, in this case.

Let’s see if I can get it all summarized down here. FYI, I’m borrowing your assumption that Taylor was in on it the whole time. And Eleanor, too. Because I actually know of her existence now! Character discovery! Except they’re real people so I feel the need to point out that I’m making all the assumptions all over the place. I’m doing this for you, my dear Delaney.

Keep in mind that we all need character growths and personal developments when I make non-flattering assumptions toward your favorite people here, ok?

First up! HS & TL met in a toilet.

Now it’s debatable whether it was during an X-Factor audition or Battle of the Bands. For the sake’s of my next argument, I’m going with they knew each other before X-Factor. Likely during their time in White Eskimo and The Rogue, respectively. Their (unconfirmed?) first words to each other were ‘Oops!’ & ‘Hi’

Up next, the X-Factor audition and getting put together in a band.

So here is where I kind of needed my first assumption for this to work. Their chemistry was so obviously through the roof. It made so much sense if they were already sort-of friends and then got put together in a band. Plus, I don’t think the way Louis jumped into Harry’s arms is something a relative stranger would do. And if they only knew each other out of everyone there, it’s no wonder they were both so apparently clingy and codependent. It’s like a situation where both of them went ‘I have no idea what’s gonna happen next, but at least I know you and you know me. So we’re bestie now. No take back!”

And then there’re video diaries, twitter cams, radio interviews, and other broadcasting media they appeared in. These need no explanation because you’ve probably seen all of them and I have functioning ears and eyes. So, yes, I saw videos of them being all disgustingly cute all over the place. During the so-called ‘Fetus’ phase (a wording which I personally find rather disturbing, no offense to your anatomy textbooks or anything.) They’re so sweet. Especially whenever there’s a mention of how they moved in and lived together. Their interactions must’ve been responsible for so many tooth cavities. So many aww-worthy moments. On stage, on screen, behind the scenes, potato cams. Basically everywhere in front of everyone.

Then 1D blew up and were well on their way to become their label’s biggest and brightest BCG-metrix star. It’s not hard to see why investors’d be invested (lol) in employing every marketing strategy possible to keep 1D in the spotlight.

There’s a twofold marketing exploitation to Larry Stylinson that I see from miles away.

Hard sell the heteronormative version of the boys. (To capture major market shares)

Never had Harry or Louis explicitly confirm nor deny their relationship status. (To capture additional market shares with queerbaiting)

But let’s say Harry and Louis were actually together and making 1) too difficult to achieve. Otherwise this whole thing falls apart like a wet house of cards.

Thus, here came what I’d like to call ‘dousing a fire with gasoline’. This is where there’s a sudden drop of their interactions in public and Larry Stylinson isn’t a cutesy smashup name of two boys who got along like a house on fire anymore. This is the part where a ship turned into a full fledged conspiracy theory. And it’s MEGA COOL WICKED awesome.

I say this in the nicest way possible. A tragedy is the grandest form of entertainments. Misery loves having friends.

Also, I’d like to say this. I’m having fun thinking of this as a fictional arc. Because I still feel like it will shatter my heart in to a million pieces if anything resembling what I write next was true.

Since breaking into US market was the Kickstarter into a global one, to the US 1D went.

This was where the heavy closeting got way more difficult to handle. Elounor had the excuse of Eleanor being a private citizen and therefore should be left alone for the most part. Haylor was the complete opposite. Taylor Swift was and still is an American Sweetheart. Harry Styles might have been the most famous British Harry if it weren’t for a (former?) prince and a wizard. (Seriously, we should not call any of our hypothetical future children ‘Harry’ unless you thought ‘Albus Severus Potter’ was a good idea. Poor kiddo.)

The saddest part about Harry Styles public image was how reminiscent of Emma Watson it felt. The minute they turned eighteen, their media portrayals immediately became hyper-sexualized. Suddenly, they left the human zoo into an open hunting game. Famous lives are terrifying.

Anyhow, say, Taylor Swift knew what the US music industry was like. She’s been playing the long game for quite some time. She got to know Harry and then became rather protective of him. Her conclusion was that ‘hyping up Haylor’ would: 1) increase media exposure for both Taylor and 1D which would translate to bigger channels of revenue for all involved, 2) hold the speculation about Harry’s sexual orientation at bay because, as horrible as it sounds, gays don’t sell in America.

This one fit nicely with your ‘Out of the Woods’ interpretation. Taylor wasn’t just spending time with Harry. She was actively enforcing the lock on the closet. Which explains why Louis seemed to resent Taylor quite obviously and quite a lot. His own heteronormative scripts with Eleanor had been relatively tame. Harry’s whirlwind series of romances in public had only just begun.

As Harry started gaining a womanizer reputation in earnest, so did the Almost-Subtle Couple Tattoo Sprees.

If ‘Always in my heart @Harry_Styles . Yours sincerely, Louis’ tweet was a sign that circumstances were about to go south for them. The tattoos were signs that the circumstances had already gone to shit. The tragic package had been shipped, signed, and delivered.

This is where non-flattering assumptions rise to the surface. I think 1D had been overworked past the point of exhaustion. Self-destruction as a coping mechanism became rather prevalent and pervasive within the band. The boys gleefully collected regrets as a new favorite pastime, some more than others. Consequences were nipping at their heels.

Then Zayn left right in the middle of a world tour and all hell broke loose.

Here comes the biggest Assumption Affair!

Louis and Liam, the last to release their solo debut albums, were the most prominent songwriters for the band. I’m not going to go on about Liam because I’m here to give you Larry Stylinson. And this is already way too long as it is. But, needless to say, the first discussion of a prospective solo career probably hit them the hardest.

If each song they wrote was a battle scar, Louis was still bleeding for the band when Harry, of all people, brought up the idea of a hiatus and solo careers. Realizing how many songs Harry already had waiting in the back catalogue must’ve felt like a slap in the face. Or a punch in the gut. Whichever you think is worse/more dramatic. I’m not picky.

Remember self-destruction as coping mechanism? What about relationship-destruction as coping mechanism? Louis cheated and had a baby with someone else. Infidelity at its finest.

ALERT! THIS IS A NEON SIGN OF ASSUMPTION AFFAIR! Please don’t kill me. I told you I was gonna make unflattering assumptions toward your favorite people. I just did as I promised!!! *run for cover*

Anyway...

I’m gonna take you back a little. I mentioned earlier how Eleanor was a private citizen and therefore should be left alone. At times when Louis desperately needed to be left alone, Elounor makes so much sense. If she’s a PR-only girlfriend, she’s a stellar employee. If it’s not just a PR thing, she’s as forgiving as a saint. Just, if it’s Harry and Louis, they likely both messed up and hurt each other badly. If it’s Louis and Eleanor,... I mean... Have you seen a meme where you misspell a word so badly that the autocorrect goes, ‘I don’t know what to tell you, man’?... Louis would be that misspelled word and Eleanor would be the very best autocorrect that practically brute force through every word in the Oxford AND Urban dictionary to find out what that word was. If that’s who she is, then bless her soul. However, for the sake of this argument, we will proceed with the assumption that she’s the star employee of the decade.

Losing loved ones and grieving for them are inevitable parts of human lives. Nothing put more things into perspectives than losing someone so fundamentally dear to you. When I heard Louis Tomlinson’s ‘Two of Us’ for the first time, I remembered walking through an actual forest my grandpa planted for us because he wanted to make sure his great grandkids would have a nice home to grow up in. Do you remember when you called and told me that he died the night I got on my first solo international flight ten months after the fact? I wanted to hate you for keeping something this big a secret from me. I wanted to hate everybody at home for that. But then you told me that it was what my grandpa had wanted. That he didn’t want me to be a sad sack of an exchange student. That you decided to not listen to my parents and call to tell me just before I was due home. So that I’d have time to feel hurt about being lied to. So that I could get all the angry words out. So that I wouldn’t scream at my parents when I got home and learnt the truth. So that you could take the brunt of my grief instead.

I just took a break to have a little cry. Where was I? Oh, yeah. You did the best you could for me when I lost my grandpa. I still managed to effectively shut you out for months. Just because you were the messenger of the bad news. What I’m trying to say is that grief changes people. It changed me. For the worst for a bit. And then for the better once I came to term with what it means to me. There’s a quote from Rosamund Lupton that sums it up neatly.

“Grief is love turned into an eternal missing.”

I guess this is the part where I connected the dots back to Harry and Louis. Well, their music definitely give grief different names. Both albums talk about coming to term with it and moving forward. Every songs they wrote could be woven to fit the narrative of Larry Stylinson and events surrounding them. If you buy the theory, then the good news is both Fine Line & Walls seemed to have a positive ending. One thing I know for sure, though, is that no matter how convincing a conspiracy theory maybe, it could all be built upon a faulty assumption. I’d probably have a way easier time disregarding Elouner if I didn’t have you as a solid proof in my life that, yes, people like the best autocorrect exists. It’s funny how I feel no hesitation at all in categorizing Haylor as a calculated move. Because in my head that’s just par for the course in business. And it genuinely terrifies me in a way. Who the hell I could’ve become if it weren’t for you knocking me off the ground and pouring kindness on me.

I know I skipped a lot of stuff. Missing names like Caroline, Danielle, Kendall, Freddie, Camille, Xander, etc. But HS and LT have a decade of history on public record and, frankly, my interest ran out four paragraphs ago. So just let me conclude this.

I think it’s tiring, spending this much time speculating on someone else’s relationship history. I must admit that I had to get it out of my chest because it was way too interesting to let go off. But now, I feel like I’m just going to stream Heartbreak Weather and listen to ‘No Judgement’ on repeat. Nile is my favorite non-problematic celebrity. I could spell his name so wrong and it probably won’t be an issue as long as I politely say, “Sorry, Mr Niall Horan”

This quarantine clearly leaves me with too much time on my hands.

Virtual hugs and kisses

Your Incredible Sasha 😘

#larry stylinson #haylor #elounor #aimh theory #larry #i hope you like this #in this essay i will...

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mxsinistir · 5 years ago

Note

May I request a Good Omens Gabriel x Human! Reader please?

Pairing: Gabriel x [y/n]

Warnings: n/a besides the fact that the bad writing ™ becomes worse writing ™ towards the end bc it’s 2 am while I’m writing this.

Summary: Freelance London Photographer [y/n] is friends with the bookshop owner Aziraphale, and happens to be sitting in one day when a mysterious stranger enters to have a meeting with her friend. Suspicious, this artist is ready to find out as much as she can about the man.

Word Count: 2390

(tried to keep this gender-neutral but tell me if I screwed this up anywhere bc I probably did)

Hope you enjoy!

***

The first time you met him was whenever you were inside A.Z. Fell & Co., discussing a book you’d just read and returned (since you were aware he despised the permanent purchasing of his collection) over two cups of hot chocolate.

The moment he entered, you were intrigued. You turned your head to watch him saunter in, and some part of you screamed deafeningly that whatever he was, he did not belong here. That was saying something since unusual people were not uncommon in the little London bookshop. You’d known Aziraphale’s eccentric friend Crowley for quite some time now.

“Aziraphale,” His voice was hearty, one you should have taken comfort in hearing. But in addition to his picture-perfect, incredibly fake smile, it set your nerves on end. “May I have a word?” Part of you decided this was your chance to run from the off-setting visitor, but that would leave your friend alone with him.

“Hi, I’m [Y/n],” You shoved a hand into space between you, “I don’t believe we’ve met before.” He looked you up and down, your eyes unwavering until he met your stare. His eyes - your stomach flipped, oh god his eyes - bore into yours, and you nearly recoiled when you noticed the color. A glassy purple with no signs of contacts. Just unexplainably rich violet that made the hair stand up on the back of your neck.

“Gabriel,” He said, shaking your hand with a grip that was just a little too strong. You were too proud to coddle your sore hand, though. “I need a moment with Aziraphale.”

“Sorry, can’t,” You couldn’t leave Aziraphale with him! What if something happened? You’d picked up that Aziraphale had been involved with some sketchy people before, and what if this guy happened to be a well-dressed gang member? Well . . . well dressed wasn’t exactly the way to put it. You didn’t know what look Gabriel was going for, but it just added to his overall wrongness.

Besides, Aziraphale and Crowley had always remarked on your excellent intuition. Warning Aziraphale about bad customers, giving Crowley advice on problems he hadn’t explicitly explained, knowing that both your friends were thinking at a given time - and at this time, Aziraphale felt very, very anxious about Gabriel waltzing into his shop.

“What do you mean, you can’t?” He half-snarled, his fake smile faltering.

“My bike got stolen earlier,” You explained, casually turning to drink the rest of your cocoa before it went cold. You also needed something to hide your growing smile. “I told the police to drop it off here when they found it.”“Are you sure you didn’t miss them during your chat?” He said, “I swore I saw a bike parked in the front.” You stepped past him, putting your nose against Aziraphale’s window. Sure enough, a blue bike was leaned against the glass pane.

“Well, silly me - Guess they just left it and had better things to do.” You laughed, turning back to smile at Aziraphale and Gabriel. “See you later, Zira!”

You walked outside, planning on walking home. You weren’t going to take some random bike from in front of the bookshop just because some guy had snapped and made it appear for you.

You didn’t own a bike.

***

The next morning, before you even had the chance to ask questions about the purple-eyed man, Crowley had come into your studio, mentioning that he was bored, due to Aziraphale’s sudden occupation with work. Aziraphale had never been truly busy since you’d known him.

“Crowley, do you know a Gabriel?” You asked, not looking up from the photo you were currently editing the lighting of, trying to decide if you could amend the conflict between the clashing color palettes. If anything, Crowley just hoped that you were too occupied with your work to even notice that you opened your mouth to ask the question. A few seconds ticked by, and then you stared up at the redhead.

“Yeah, I know him.” He said under his breath, “He’s a friend of Aziraphale’s. Definitely not a friend fo mine. I’d keep your distance.”

“What does he do?” Even without being able to see his eyes through the glasses, you sensed the panic in them as he proceeded to mumble out an answer.

“Paperwork,” He steadied himself, easing into the lie now. “Some company Aziraphale used to work for. I think he’s kind of a jerk, but he and Zira go way back, so I don’t intrude.”

“Funny, I thought the bookshop had been family owned for a hundred years?”

“Part-time job, maybe?” Crowley stammered out. You just rolled your eyes.

“Is Aziraphale in . . . is he in any danger with this guy?”“What? No, no, [Y/n], you’re just being paranoid.” You weren’t so sure. You’d never heard Crowley so nervous about the subject of someone, and you’d certainly never heard of him willing staying out of Aziraphale’s affairs. It was common knowledge that he was the nosiest man in London, especially when it came to his friends. “Seriously, Just stay out of his way and it should be fine.” He had a certain voice he used when he wanted you to believe things were fine, even if they weren’t.

“I’ll just ask Aziraphale since apparently, you won’t explain.” That little taunt was usually enough to make Crowley spill everything. Not for this, apparently. “He listens to you, Crowley. Just make sure he doesn’t get hurt.”

Just because he didn’t say the promise doesn’t mean she didn’t see him make it.

***

The second time you saw Gabriel wasn’t at the bookshop, but on a bench in St. James’ Park. You were currently looking over some pictures you’d taken of the vibrant area, the photographs dotted with jogging passersby and fluffy ducks that reminded you of Aziraphale. You stood up to walk by, snapping a few more when your camera focused in on a not-quite-familiar face.

“Gabriel,” You said, curiously approaching the benched man. “Fancy seeing you here,”

“[Y/n], is it? Aziraphale’s . . . acquaintance.” Who the hell used the word acquaintance anymore? You thought. “Is there something you need?”

“Just came to clear my eyes - I’ve been staring at this one picture I took for Aziraphale last week.” You briefly explained how one of the customers had split their coffee on one of Aziraphale’s old wall paintings, which he had sat on the table to clean the walls behind it. He had been furious, and though you knew you couldn’t possibly replace the expertly preserved painting - ruined by only human clumsiness - you’d offered to gift a photograph to him. Though he was obviously still disgruntled over the lost air, he did say that even something modern would eventually become history. You’d gotten to work. “I’m supposed to bring it to him this evening.”

“I was planning to speak with him this evening as well, actually.” The man remarked.

“Well, if you wanted, you could com toe hang out at my studio for a while.” You had a feeling that no matter what, this man would try to keep up appearances. Meaning he would accept your offer, even if only not to appear rude. Thanks to some information you’d gotten out of Crowley, you now knew that you wouldn’t be in any real danger as a human inviting him to your studio. He, on the other hand, wouldn’t be expecting the onslaught of questions you had for him.

“That sounds great,” He said with clenched teeth, and so you just smiled and packed up your laptop and camera equipment, making sure to walk beside him all the way back to your flat.

The square footage wasn’t much - you were honestly surprised you could manage to fit two people inside at once. Beyond that, every inch of the place was stacked high with frames and camera equipment and printed portraits. Your bed was usually just the couch by the window, and even then, you more often than not just fell asleep at your work desk, head draped over crossed arms.

“I’m gonna be a little bit - I’ve gotta play with some finishing touches, and then I’ve got to print it.” You explained - Aziraphale had given you a faux-gold 18 x 21 frame, nearly identical to the one bordering the ruined painting. “You can sit on the couch if you still want to hang out. You okay with music?” You asked casually, bringing him a glass of water. You may be suspicious of him, but your mother had always stressed the importance of hospitality.

“Do you like music?” He thought for a moment, staring blankly before nodding as if he’d been assessing whether or not it was the correct response to say so. “Queen?” He looked even more confused but nodded again. You synced your Spotify to a small speaker and set it to shuffle, sliding into your chair as We Are the Champions began to play. You snuck a glance over at Gabriel while mouthing the words and concluded he was possibly the only person in the world who didn’t know the lyrics. If anything, that just confirmed your suspicions of the man.

Gabriel, on the other hand, was just as confused by you as you were by him. When you’d first met, he hadn’t known how to react to you. You’d stood up to him with no background knowledge, purely because you thought he had ill intentions towards your friend. Humans were always willing to throw themselves at things for no reason, but you were different - you had a reason, and that reason was nothing more than intuition to protect those you care about.

And now, you’d carelessly brought him into your apartment - if he could even call it that. It was a glorified storage closet, filled to the brim with art and junk and beauty. He’d never been exposed to such a mess; heaven would have never tolerated it. He couldn’t even imagine that Hell was this chaotically organized.

He could barely focus on that. How could he anymore, when there was you to look at? Smiling truly and losing yourself in the music blaring, snapping your fingers with bad timing, singing the guitar riffs, and constantly standing up just to pace around while mouthing the lyrics.

You walked around him more than a few times, asking him random questions while leaning far back to see what your photo looked like from afar. He eventually saw that it was of an eggshell white duck in St. James, curiously floating alongside a dark goose that had landed in the waters. He could have scoffed at the symbolism, wondering if you understood the irony of it all yourself.

Gabriel had never seen so much life in one plac.e It radiated from you, from your camera, from your fingers. It felt raw and unexplainably human, and not in the way that disgusted him with its mediocrity. There was nothing mediocre about you. You oozed with some sort of high that no angel could ever dream of finding themselves on. Angels were too flawless for something as uncontained as the day-to-day life you lead.

During the middle of one of your lyrical outbursts, you glanced over at Gabriel. He was drinking tea now, staring out into London from your window, sunbeams casting over his dusty hair and stunning eyes. Without a word, you pulled your camera in front of you and stepped towards him, snapping photos of him a quick succession. He whipped around at the sound, just quick enough to see you smiling.

“Stay where you are - the lighting’s amazing.” You said, steadily walking closer to the man. He truly was a vision in an element like this. You leaned back to observe the picture he’d found himself in. “Do you think you could give me one with your wings?”

And just like that, you watched the Archangel Gabriel freeze to the core as you shuttered a few more photographs.

“Come on, everyone knows Aziraphale isn’t human.” And of course, there was no way Crowley could keep a secret like that once he was sufficiently drunk. “And besides, humans don’t usually make this pretty of muses.”

He unfurled his wings gently, being careful not to knock over anything. All three pairs appeared in pristine, white condition, though when the window light scattered them, they reflected a spectrum of glistening violet.

He nearly asked to confirm that you were human, though he knew the answer. No one but a human could accomplish this - a demon nor an angel could live in such harmonious chaos with their own little world, dancing to the raw beauty of it all and flourishing in the flaws you did not perceive as such.

Gabriel had never felt love - a sort of ‘love for all humanity’, of course, but not the thrumming in his heart he felt now, looking at you in your element, high on the artistry of what you saw in him. On what no one else had ever seen in him.

“I could have a photoshoot with you, you know.” You said, looking at your camera screen. “You look great on camera.”

“There’s still a few hours before I need to meet with Aziraphale,” He lied - he was two hours behind schedule, not that that mattered. “He’d told me about this bakery beside his bookshop that he apparently adores.” He didn’t even like food. It didn’t matter - he figured you would.

“Am I being asked out by the Archangel Gabriel?”“That’s strong wording-”“I’m famished,” You smiled, and as you walked over to your computer, he expected you to print and frame your imperfect perfection. Instead, you just saved the photo and eased your computer shut. “I can make something here, though. I don’t want to leave. Does the Archangel Gabriel want to watch a movie?”

He was about to make a snarky comment about your sarcastically calling him that, but he paused as you did the unexpected. You settled down on your couch right next to him and smiled. That was enough for him to decide that his meeting with Aziraphale could wait till morning. To hell with Heaven questioning him - him of all people - being off schedule. He would deal with that in time.

Right now, all that mattered was that he was sharing in on an artist’s high, and he wasn’t ever coming off.

#good omens #good omens gabriel #archangels #archangel gabriel #gabriel good omens #gabriel #good omens x reader #gabriel x reader #goom #i love artists x gabriel #gabriel x human #good omens imagines #gabriel imagines #archangels gabriel imagines

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words-writ-in-starlight · 5 years ago

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ohohohohO YOUR WISH IS MY COMMAND COOL OKAY SO WORLDWALKER HOLLYWOOD AU, ANY MIXED BAG OF 11, 14, 19, 20, 29, 33, AND/OR 40 PLEASE AND THANK YOU

Hell YES, ask meme! For a briefexplanation to the rest of the Internet, the Hollywood AU of Worldwalker goeslike this: in a mundane AU of this novel, Crispin Adesso is a rising starA-list actor at 24, who was just cast as the White Wolf, the villain in what’santicipated to be the fantasy blockbuster of the decade. Problem is, the woman who was cast to playthe lead opposite him just suffered a major injury, and her contract was terminated. While the higher-ups scramble to recast, theygrab an electrician who has sort of the right look and ask her to do her bestto read the lines, so that Crispin can at least get a sense of what he’sdoing and he’s not getting paid to do nothing.

Brenneth Ghadafi absolutely crushes the role of theFireheart, first try, and her chemistry with Crispin is electric. They hire her on the spot and she blundersinto stardom overnight.

11) Do they celebrate holidays? Anniversaries?

Holidays aren’t a huge thing for either of them prior todoing Worldwalker, because they’re estranged from their living families, but doingthe movie is a weirdly effective bonding experience. The woman who plays the Fireheart’s righthand, called only “the Devoted” in the credits (Worldwalker is Oscar-baitfrom moment one and absolutely sweeps the categories it’s nominated for, andeveryone waxes poetic about how beautiful the epithet-only naming scheme is asa creative choice), is immediately tight with Crispin and Brenneth. Her younger friend is an agent, and Toreitakes pity on Brenneth to get her hooked up with Krei so that Brenneth isn’tsolely responsible for her new situation. They even make friends with the makeup artist, who likes to wear longskirts and always has eyeshadow on her fingertips from touching people up, andget front row seats to Shiko and Krei’s schoolgirl romance.

It’s Krei, a big believer in family after her mother’s deathwhen she was young, who invites them all over for Thanksgiving. After that, Crispin and Brenneth get a littlebetter about holidays.

Crispin is an Advanced Level Anniversary Planner and it’sonly through tremendous effort that he moderates himself down to celebratingone anniversary a year. He knows thedate of their first meeting, their first date, their first kiss, their firstdance, the first time they said they loved each other, and the first time theygot caught by the paparazzi, in addition to their actual anniversary. The paparazzi incident was quite a bit beforetheir first date, which is related to the fact that there’s a flourishingonline shipper network for over a year before they get their act together.

Brenneth is a little chiller about anniversaries. Crispin is used to having money, so he takesBrenneth to museums and weird niche classes and expensive dinners for theiranniversaries, and she makes jokes about being a gold-digger. Brenneth gives him two gifts everyanniversary: letting him buy her something expensive and frivolous, and a letter. The letter is always the hardest part—shedoesn’t consider herself effusively affectionate and it’s hard to put herfeelings down—but it’s always worth it to see him tear up. She proposes in one of them.

14) Anything they both dread?

Ironically, the things theyrespectively dread are mostly resolved by dating. Crispin, who shot to stardom at a very youngage, kind of dreads being alone, and having to worry about normal things he wasnever taught to deal with, and calling his parents on their birthdays. Brenneth, who did not plan for this,dreads being alone, and having to give interviews, and seeing her parents ather aaji’s grave (her grandmother). Brenneth knows how to fix a sink and tells Crispin to stop calling hisparents; Crispin goes with Brenneth to all her interviews to keep her confidenceup and goes with her to see her aaji; when one of them feels lonely,they grab the other one’s hand. Theyhave very compatible anxieties.

19) What do they fight about? What are their argumentslike? How do they make up?

Their worst fight is the first one, when they’re talkingabout what they’ll do after Worldwalker before they’re even dating and Brennethsays, like it’s obvious, that she’s going back to her real actual job. Crispin snorts and tells her that’s notlikely, and suddenly all her swallowed-back nerves and all her strain and allher uncertainty is pouring out in a burst of anger, because how dare hetell her she can’t live her life? Crispin lashes right back, suddenly realizing that he is desperatefor her to stay, and she was just telling him how she’s made more money in thelast six months than her entire preceding life, and how could she just givethat up? There is shouting, and thenthere’s three days of treating each other with icy good manners and weirdlyon point chemistry for the scenes between the Wolf and the Fireheart—they usealmost every bit of footage from those three days.

Then Crispin shows up at Brenneth’s apartment at two in themorning with Indian takeout from the place that she says reminds her of her aaji’scooking and two bottles of wine, more expensive than she’s comfortable drinkingon her floor even though that’s what they do. They don’t really talk about it, not explicitly, but Brenneth sayssomething oblique about not knowing how to do…this, this movie star thing, andCrispin says something equally oblique about how she should do somethingwith her talent, even if it’s community theater. Things are better after that.

Even after they learn how to have more productive arguments,there’s usually shouting. They both grewup in intensely emotionally neglectful homes—the shouting makes them feel likethe other person is invested. It meanstheir arguments are a little scary to see, but it works for them and they’recareful not to argue in front of anyone who might really worry. They learn to talk about their shoutingmatches, after they have them, and something about the emotional catharsismakes them much more equipped to have a calm chat afterward. Krei and Shiko, who argue in the stiffest andmost formal way possible, find it absolutely fucking baffling.

20) What does their home look like? Their room?

They move into Crispin’s apartment, because Brenneth livesin a one-bedroom closet with a bathroom so small that someone sufficiently tall(Krei or Torei) will actually hit their knees against the sink if they sit onthe toilet.

Brenneth has a small anxiety attack about how big Crispin’splace is, the first time they hook up there. It’s kind of a hotel vibe when she first moves in—Crispin travels a lotand never really thought of it as enough of a home to decorate—but Brenneth’sfirst act of unilateral decision making as a resident is to get rid of the plainstock expensive photography and put up some actual art. Things progress from there. They still travel a lot, but there’s colorthere, now, and signs of life, and their shared study is full of crafts—Brennethmakes jewelry and Crispin does needlepoint. He made her a sign to hang above the kitchen door that says “We’vesurvived every bad day we’ve ever had, motherfucker” and Brenneth never missesa chance to point it out.

Their room is heavily Brenneth-influenced as well, largelybecause she took one look at it and said, “Well, Christ, at least you have somebooks that you like.” Basically the onlything in it that has any trace of personality is Crispin’s closet, which isadmittedly full to bursting of brilliant colors and expensive fabrics. But the rest of the room is practicallyclinical.

She makes him get rid of most of the crisp minimalistglass-and-steel furniture that he bought when he got the place at 18 and neverreally cared about, and replaces it with wood. Not necessarily expensive wood, but something with a little color andlife in it. She also makes him repaintthe room from plain fucking white, what are you doing, Cris, no wonder younever spend time here. They settleon a nice cool blue, accented with a deep venous red that matches the comforterBrenneth spent too much money on when she first moved out on her own. Crispin, who has an exceptional eye fordesign and a terrible eye for incorporating his own tastes, is glad to stepback and let her do what she wants.

He’s surprised to discover, once his apartment doesn’t looklike a magazine spread anymore, that he actually likes it there.

29) How do they handle disasters or emergencies? Minorinjuries? Sickness?

Disasters and emergencies are usually fine—they’re both abit high-strung even if they won’t admit it, but it’s the kind of high-strungthat translates into getting their feet back under them real quick. They also have a good division of labor in caseof catastrophe, based on what kind of problem it is. Interpersonal disasters go directly toCrispin, because he has been professionally charming since he was fourteen. Logistical disasters go to Brenneth, who wasconsidered a prodigy at figuring out how to solve problems with the leastexpense when she was an electrician and who has maintained that skill setbeautifully. Anything that doesn’t fallneatly into one of those two categories is normally handled by both of them intandem, usually with great efficiency.

Injuries and sickness tend to be more upsetting to theperson who’s still in good health, largely because they are both horriblepatients. Crispin got dropped during a stuntin the filming and was mostly okay except for some bruised ribs, and Brennethsnarled at four people before Torei banished her to sit in makeup and take deepbreaths while he got looked at. He wentback and redid the stunt the next day, which is the take they used. Brenneth got appendicitis on their press tourafter the movie dropped and Crispin was useless for the time she was inthe hospital, snappish and downright nasty in a way he’s usually not, andshe almost killed him for hovering afterward, insisting she was fine to go onwith their interview schedule.

They are not beloved of the on-set medics.

33) What kind of presents do they get each other? Do theyonly do it on special occasions?

Brenneth likes to give useful gifts and almostsinglehandedly stocks their kitchen so that Crispin can play with increasinglyfancy equipment. She prefers to give giftson special occasions, although sometimes she’ll see something small like hisfavorite chocolates or a book she knows he’s been curious about and she’llimpulse buy it. Anything more thentwenty bucks is probably a special occasion gift. While Crispin loves her gifts, he honestlysecretly likes her weird texts more, it always makes him grin like a dumbasswhen she texts him a picture of a dog in a hat or something with an inexplicable“saw this, thought of you” and no further context.

Crispin can and will give gifts at any time, and it’s commonfor him to impulse buy flowers (or one time a five hundred dollar coat), but heknows that Brenneth gets more out of things that involve some doing—either somethinghe put work into or something they can do together. He buys her things like classes or museummemberships or riding lessons, or gives her ornately prepared food or handmadethings, pretty much whenever he can find a half-decent excuse.

He also likes to buy her nice clothing becausehe knows she won’t. Thus the coat. And like five pairs of boots. And some silk shirts. And about half her wardrobe. Brenneth, who was a very reluctant convert tothe idea that jeans and a sort of okay blouse weren’t “talk show attire,” ismore than glad to let him do her clothes and Shiko do her makeup and not haveto worry about anything except putting up her hair.

#worldwalker #worldwalker hollywood au #original work #brenneth #crispin #ask meme #starlight writes stuff #headcanon meme #i LOVE this au #kells and i have planned it in EXHAUSTIVE detail #i wrote this entire thing in an hour and it was weirdly informative #i like writing aus when i'm having trouble with the main deal it helps me get a better handle on stuff #ex: modern au crispin does needlepoint #that is both incredibly fitting and not something i would ever have considered otherwise #anyway later in this au once they're both oscar nominees and huge celebs they get invited to the met gala #the theme is fairy tales and folklore #crispin goes in a dragon-inspired white scaled suit and flame-inspired makeup and brenneth goes in an armored dress #she dips him for the paparazzi and imitates holding a sword to his chest and tumblr explodes #there are whole blogs dedicated to analyzing every piece of media for proof that they're dating #and most of the people theorizing as much are actually considered the reasonable parties #the twist is that they are not yet dating but oh boy howdy are the conspiracies otherwise spot on #i didn't do 40 because i have not decided where tf this takes place and the only place i currently know well is nyc #also not gonna queue this because i crave validation #cthulhu-with-a-fez #asked and answered

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bakagamieru · 6 years ago

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Hi!!! I’m hoping you can help - do you know why Zayn left One Direction? He was partying with Louis on March 14 in Thailand and left the band on March the 25th. So what happened in those 9 days for him to leave? I just don’t get it!! TIA!!

Hello,

It wasn’t anything in those 9 days that made him leave. In fact, I don’t think it was his idea to leave at all.

I have a masterpost outlining most of my speculation relating to this: http://bakagamieru.tumblr.com/post/120840259353/zayn-stunt-summary

Of course there are other fans/bloggers (known as Team Stunt mostly) that have speculated about this as well.

Disclaimers

Please bare with me here and read the whole post (and preferably the other posts in my masterpost) before writing this theory off. I 100% believe that if anyone takes the time to look at the evidence, it will become obvious that something very fishy is going on. It’s just logic.

If you’re not coming into this post with the knowledge of 1D’s adversarial relationship with their team or with the knowledge that there are closeted gay couples within the 1D band (Louis and Harry, Liam and Zayn), then you might want to check that out first. There are good resources out there for all of it. I have some of it linked on my “ziam resources” and “larry resources” tags or on my Projects and Posts and Tags and Links pages.

It’s important to know what’s going on with these things and the history of 1D and their team because Zayn leaving being a stunt is a part of and a continuation of that.

It might also help to check out who Zayn really is since a false and negative characterization of him has taken hold because of his public persona since his leaving. I’ve got a few things linked on my summary masterpost. Another tag on my blog to check out would be “pairing masterpost” (look for any including Zayn). There’s also this post and this post and this post that show who Zayn is beyond the broody bad boy image he’s always been saddled with, extremely so in his solo career. Myself, I think the lyrics from his solo albums, particularly Mind of Mine but also the Icarus part of Icarus Falls, shows who he is better than anything. There’s no way to fake the gentleness and thoughtfulness inherent in the sentiments he chooses to express.

Even if you know Zayn well already, it’s always good to revisit these because it can be hard to fully avoid the effects of being bombarded by everyone telling you he’s a selfish, erratic, rash, and disloyal person. It’s good to be reminded of exactly how dorky, geeky, sweet, protective, thoughtful, intelligent, and caring he is.

Let’s Get Into It

The thing that made us start wondering about a stunt was the way Zayn left. It doesn’t particularly make sense for a lot of reasons.

1) He had been more engaged than usual at the start of the OTRA tour, talking to fans on social media and practicing to get better at giving speeches on stage. He was also just as affectionate with the other boys on stage as ever.

2) The reasons they gave for Zayn leaving were many and yet none of them ever made sense. The WAY he left is also baffling.

Originally the implication was that Zayn left because he was caught “cheating again” on Perrie. This is unlikely because 1) Zayn was never truly dating Perrie as it was a PR/bearding relationship (yes there is proof), and 2) Zayn and Perrie officially broke up that August anyway and if Zayn left for her, that would take away his reason for leaving and yet he didn’t return. The same sort of theory popped up with the idea of Naughty Boy luring him away, but again, 1) Naughty Boy had been very pro-1D the year before, and 2) Zayn and Naughty Boy had a “falling out” and yet Zayn didn’t return to 1D.

They said anxiety immediately after he left, but then he started a solo career that’s bound to be more anxiety-inducing if someone has stage fright. If the worst part of the job is dealing with people, then why would you get rid of the people who distracted most of the interviewer’s attention during interviews and the people who shared the stage with you?

They said he never liked being in the band, but if he likes the music/performing part (he ostensibly did because of going solo) and he likes the boys (there’s no real proof he doesn’t), that only leaves his management team to be causing the problem. One Direction was just about to end their active contract with Syco/Modest, so why leave the band and risk penalties and censure instead of sticking it out until the end of the year?

Some said he left to go solo first and get the spotlight, but he didn’t actually release solo music until after the hiatus started, he risked a really negative public image by doing so, Simon Cowell had actually claimed the fall before that 1D members could do solo music while in the band, and he missed one of the concerts he’d been really looking forward to (Dubai) instead of at least waiting until the end of that tour leg when there would be a month-long break.

Additionally, even though Zayn is supposed to be “free of Syco”, it’s pretty clear that his own team is sabotaging his solo career with a complete lack of promo and unnecessarily negative print interviews. Zayn can’t be blamed for this because even if those things were his choice, they’re not going to earn money and his team has a vested interest in that and yet would apparently be doing nothing about it. Going back to the theory that Zayn left because of not liking how Syco/Modest did things, clearly him going solo didn’t fix that problem whatsoever and Zayn is too smart to cut ties and burn bridges only to jump from one bad situation into another.

Some people say all of the above things were lies to cover the fact that Zayn and 1D just didn’t get along. There’s no proof of this. Like I said, he was just as affectionate with them leading up to his departure. He was very complimentary of them right after he left, and then suddenly there were Twitter fights with Louis out of nowhere (very suspicious Twitter fights by the way), a supposed feud with Harry (that has only ever existed in the headlines as there is literally no proof other than “a source said”), and negative and then positive and then negative and then positive comments in print interviews despite this being very inconsistent with the official narrative of what’s happened. Zayn has never from his own mouth said something vitriolic about the other boys. In fact, the way he talks about them in his few radio/tv interviews is far more positive than his supposed words in print interviews (which can be manipulated very easily).

They claim that Zayn up and decided to leave and then caught a plane without anybody knowing and went back to the UK. This is very unlikely considering all of the people around him that would notice like the bodyguards, etc. Also, this assumes Zayn is the type of person who would make such a rash, snap decision. They also announced him officially leaving not long after which begs the question, did Syco/Modest do nothing to try to persuade/coerce 1/5 of their biggest money-maker to at least finish the tour?

The way it was announced was quite odd, considering it was posted on Facebook of all places immediately after the end of a concert and sounded extremely impersonal like a PR person wrote it (which Zayn later confirmed). The Mirror also reported on the announcement almost immediately which means they had to be tipped off because they wouldn’t have had time to find the announcement and create an article about it otherwise.

The other odd thing is that there were never any consequences for Zayn leaving. He’s part of a huge money-making band and he broke a contract with his team, so you would assume that they would 1) sue him, 2) demand he pay the very high fee for getting out of the contract, or 3) drop him from the label/management agency and make sure no one else will work with him in the industry. None of these things happened. There’s obviously been no suit as it would have made news. There was no payoff because Zayn’s net worth never changed in such a dramatic way. Originally the story was that Syco ONLY let Zayn leave if he signed to them for his solo career, but then Syco claimed to have dropped Zayn BECAUSE he left, but then Syco was still listed on his first solo release (which is sketchy in and of itself).

And let’s talk about the timing once more because there’s a little more to it. He left 7 shows before the end of the Asia/Africa leg of OTRA. This meant that he missed the Dubai show which was in an area of the world where he was very popular, where he has cultural ties, and where he had explicitly said he was excited to perform. That leg was the last leg before a planned 1-month tour break, which would have been a much more logical time to leave, break it to the fans, deal with the paperwork, etc. That tour was also the last tour before the hiatus. No, it wasn’t announced until later, but it’s very unlikely it wasn’t planned before that. Even the fans kind of assumed there would be some sort of break after the album since as far as anyone could guess, that was going to be the end of the Syco/Modest contract time period.

If Zayn couldn’t stand the band or wanted to go solo or couldn’t stand his management team, there was an obvious out coming up that would have been way less complicated and would have had way fewer potential negative consequences. For any reason but anxiety (which is eliminated because of the baffling solo career decision), it doesn’t make sense for him to leave instead of waiting out the year.

There are any number of oddities about the way he left and the given reasons for him leaving. No matter what theory you look at, it isn’t consistent with logic OR with Zayn’s character and past actions.

So these things were why some of us were suspicious from the start and paid close attention as the events unfolded. As we did, we just caught more and more inconsistencies and suspicious things.

3) Finally, I need to point out one massive area of evidence about Zayn’s leaving being a (particularly long-lived [although only a couple months longer than babygate]) stunt. The shade.

The 1D boys have a long history of throwing shade that contradicts the official narrative, thus cluing fans in that some lie is being told. There’s hella shade around Zayn’s leaving from both him and from the other boys.

The masterpost I linked at the top contains several posts about this, so I’m not going to rehash that here. However, I will briefly go into what I think is the most compelling evidence that Zayn was actually planned to return to the band in August 2015.

The reason I find this particular shade so compelling is because it’s actually a pattern of shade, and not only is it a pattern of shade, it’s actually 5 overlapping and coordinated patterns of shade.

The basic idea is that Zayn was scheduled to return on August 5th, around July 26th the boys learned that the return was delayed, the 2nd scheduled return was probably August 18th, and then that return was also delayed/cancelled.

First is Niall’s all-black pattern. Niall had never worn an all-black outfit on stage before and he’d never repeated the same outfit more than 2 times in a row during a tour, but starting from the concert before Zayn left, he wore all black for 8 shows in a row until the end of that tour leg. He stopped for the European leg and some of the NA leg. Then, 8 shows before the August 5th show, Niall starting wearing all black again, like a bookend. He didn’t make it to 8 shows consecutively because plans got changed, but he did continue wearing some amount of black at almost every show until the end of a tour in an organized pattern.

Second is Rainbow Bondage Bear’s (“RBB”) stickers. In mid to late August, people started associating the recurring blue and green stickers on RBB with Louis and Harry because of their blue and green mic grips. In fact, there were orange and yellow stickers (Niall and Zayn) before that, and a red sticker (Liam) showed up after that at strategic times. The interesting thing is, Zayn’s yellow sticker was up for exactly 8 shows, ending on, you guessed it, August 5th.

Third is the Batman references. With Liam taking the lead, the references to Batman skyrocketed in August. Participants included Liam, some of the musical band members, Naughty Boy, and Zayn (yes, both sides participated). Three particularly compelling references when put together are 1) the bat symbol that was put on the big screen at the 1D concert in Kansas City after the show (the bat signal traditionally calls Batman to come to it), 2) Zayn posting a fanart of his own name in the bat symbol (indicating himself as Batman), and 3) Naughty Boy posting a quote from Batman about the darkest moment being just before the dawn, which he posted with the hashtag “comesoon” (indicating a positive change coming soon). All together, it’s hard not to read them as a sign that Zayn was supposed to return to the 1D stage soon. Incidentally, RBB wore a Batman costume on, yes, August 5th.

Fourth is the 5th of the month pattern. On the 5th of the month, from June 2015 to September 2015, something Ziam-related always happened with the exception of August 5th. On June 5th Liam wore a ring (unusual for him at the time) in concert. Surrounding circumstances point to it being Zayn-related. On July 5th there was a video taken of Liam singing and coming out of the shower where surrounding circumstances point towards Zayn being the one filming. On September 5th, Zayn and Liam started posting Instagram pictures that seemed to mirror each other or hint at Ziam in some way. On August 4th, the Zerrie break up was announced, but on August 5th there was nothing in particular. However, there would have been if that had been the first concert Zayn returned.

Fifth and final is related to the in-ears the boys wear on stage (and specifically to the 2nd return date this time, August 18th). Oddly enough, the boys seem to change their in-ears in overly patterned ways and although I can’t identify what exactly they’re marking all the time, some of the ones I can link match up to Zayn’s leaving and potential return. Liam wore a different set of in-ears for the last 5 concerts of the Asia/Africa leg of OTRA, starting on the Jakarta concert which was the first after Zayn’s official leaving announcement was made. Later, starting on the Winnipeg show on July 24, the first show after Niall’s all-black bookend was disrupted (indicating Zayn’s return date was probably in flux at that point), Niall wore different in-ears for 3 shows. Then Niall switched back to his regular and Liam picked up the pattern seamlessly by wearing different in-ears for 3 shows and 1 TV performance. There are 2 possible ways this pattern could have ended that would make sense. 1) Liam could have counted the TV performance, worn in-ears for 1 more show and that would have completed Liam’s bookend of 5 different in-ears ending the show before Zayn’s (2nd scheduled) return on August 18th. This would have resulted in a total of 8 performances with different in-ears counting both Liam and Niall and both concerts and TV performances, which partially (it doesn’t end on the concert Zayn would return)matches Niall’s bookend pattern. 2) Liam could have not counted the TV performance (the in-ears are almost exclusively a concert pattern) and worn in-ears for 2 more concerts, resulting in 8 total different in-ear shows ending on Zayn’s 2nd return date, completing Niall’s bookend pattern. This would also mean Liam wore his in-ears for 5 performances, partially matching his bookend pattern (but not ending before the concert Zayn would return). Again, I think the pattern was disrupted because Zayn’s return was again delayed (indefinitely as it turns out).

All of these patterns are explained in more detail (and with visuals because heaven knows it’s just a lot of dates and numbers without seeing it) in posts that are linked to my masterpost.

There are also several other surrounding events that seem to confirm Zayn’s delayed returns such as:

the Zerrie break up;

an aborted Zayn-Naughty Boy fight;

the advent of positive 1D-Zayn relations leading up to August and then negative press resuming around August 17th;

a few things that might match up relating to Niall’s Where We Goin’ Today Mark video shade pattern; and

the release of Drag Me Down which seems to have possibly been moved up by a week or so, indicating it originally might have been an OT5 song meant to be released around Zayn’s return.

To me, the fact that these patterns were so obviously deliberate (they’re way too organized not to be) and that they all overlap and point to the same dates, along with the fact that people from both camps participated in the Batman pattern, points to a definite return plan that was positively anticipated by both the boys and Zayn.

If I were to ever wonder if maybe Zayn really didn’t want to return even if leaving wasn’t his idea in the first place, this is what makes me positive that he did.

If I ever wonder if maybe there was a falling out with Zayn and the boys after he left, even if he didn’t want to leave to start with, the shade from both sides makes it obvious to me that there never was any real bad blood. If they all go to the trouble to contradict the official story, then clearly the official story must be a lie and the boys must all be on the same page.

Conclusion

I know this is a long post, but this is only the tip of the iceberg when it comes to the sketchiness around Zayn leaving.

Unfortunately, I haven’t followed through on organizing all the evidence like I had planned to at one point, but I think the masterpost I put together does cover a lot even if it’s a bit repetitive with some posts and a bit disorganized.

If anyone has questions that aren’t already covered in the masterpost, go ahead and send me an ask.

#Anonymous #one direction #zayn leaving #masterpost #speculation #bakagamieru #I've done one of these again #why do I keep doing them instead of just linking the 10 I've already done?#I don't know #maybe I'm trying to find the best way to organize it and present it #which is why I keep redoing it #maybe I feel like someone who asks deserves a direct answer instead of a stale one in a link #or maybe I feel like they'll be more likely to read something if it's in the same post as the question instead of linked to it #who knows

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ua-hc7 · 5 years ago

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TRANSCRIPT: August 29, 2:12 AM

[Note: The following contains implications/references of and to a variety of abuses. Drug use and sexual content is explicitly mentioned and described.]

[Note: Official recording started midway conversation. The above is paraphrased.]

[Note: Uncensored transcript requires further authoritzation.]

.. ... @ua-hawks ...

[Incoming call. Hawks is still putting himself back together at home. The rustle of a jacket being thrown over something and his clumsy, erratic footsteps can be faintly heard.]

[Shichirou picks up. It's quiet on his end asides from the soft rustling of wings.]

SHICHIROU: ... ▇▇▇▇▇? Sweetheart, what's happening...

[He stifles a yawn, his voice slow and heavy with sleep.]

HAWKS: Hi,

[Hawks' voice is drained of energy, yet he's still rushing. He hasn't been able to get out of his work headspace.]

HAWKS: Sorry. Did I wake you up?

[The way his words slur becomes more obvious.]

SHICHIROU: No, no...

[More rustling, the soft sound of fabrics moving together this time. There's a soft creak of a mattress as Shichirou sits up in bed.]

SHICHIROU: Have you been drinking? You haven't answered my question...

[A door shuts. Hard.]

HAWKS: Yeah.

[He's pacing. Restless. Exhausted.]

HAWKS: What'd you say?

SHICHIROU: What is going on?

[His voice is suddenly stern, though only slightly so. Still, it's a clear change of tone, all the drowsiness in his voice suddenly gone.]

SHICHIROU: Tell me what has you so upset.

HAWKS: I don't know. I just. I had to like-I had t'arrest or-no-I had to bring a kid in, to like a hospital...

[As he explains the distress rises. He's talking before he can even find the words to say what he needs to say.]

HAWKS: I was on my way to my meeting with Dabi and he was there and I don't know why-he's a-a fuckin ua kid, you have to have heard about it,

[It's completely silent as he listens. He only interrupts by the end, his voice quiet, firm and calm.]

SHICHIROU: Hawks. You are our main source on the League at this moment. Everything we hear, we hear through you.

[He waits a moment for his words to (hopefully) cut through his panic before continuing.]

SHICHIROU: Please clarify. You've brought in a UA student? Name? And which hospital is he in, are you there now?

HAWKS: Monoma.. [A sharp, shaky breath interrupts him.] Neito. Monoma Neito...

[He does pause. Let himself calm down as much as he can. The pacing stops.]

HAWKS: Sorry... 'm sorry I just... He was so fucked up, Chirou, I can't even.. I shouldn't be doing this right now I just need to write the fucking report and-and I need to get back to my interns and..

[He barely catches a gasp as he starts crying. It's sudden, even to himself, suppressing it best he can. He doesn't want Shichirou to know how weak he's gotten.]

SHICHIROU: ...

[He waits a few moment, listening to his stifled tears. Quietly, he writes down the boy's name. Then, he presses a program to start on his phone to record the rest of the conversation, cursing himself quietly for not doing that right at the start.]

SHICHIROU: You don't need to be doing anything right now, Hawks...

[He sighs, urging patience back into himself. He wants more information on the case but it'd have to wait...]

SHICHIROU: What have I told you about taking care of yourself? That's what's most important. Just concentrate on letting it all out, please, you'll feel better... I want you to be okay.

... Do you need to come over?

HAWKS: Yeah, well-

[Unintentionally, Hawks snaps, catching himself for a second.]

HAWKS: I can't exactly do that when I'm at everyone's fucking beck and call, can I? Dabi could hit me up at like 5 am and be like ▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇ and I'd probably do it just cuz it's the mission.

[He let's go again.]

HAWKS: And he has! And he has. And I do it. And I feel disgusting and-fucking Monoma-▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇ I...

SHICHIROU: ...

[He sighs again, a slow, careful breath.]

SHICHIROU: Was he...? Hawks, can you explain what you saw? Please?

[A pause as he frowns to himself.]

SHICHIROU: You're doing good work, love... You really are. It's all going to be so worth it when we're done, I promise you.

HAWKS: I...

[He lets out an aggravated sigh.]

HAWKS: I saw ▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇. That's it. I went to where our meeting was gonna be and Monoma was ▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇ He was all sortsa fucked up and I pulled him aside and he-I don't know, maybe he thought I was someone else but ▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇ and I.. I don't know...

[Another shuddering breath, more tears.]

HAWKS: ▇▇▇▇▇ ▇▇▇▇▇ ▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇... [He forces a sad chuckle.]

SHICHIROU: ... ▇▇▇▇▇ ...

[He'll have to cut that out from the recording. The commission was well aware of Hawks' true name but he still tries to respect the boy's privacy nonetheless.]

SHICHIROU: It's okay. It's okay...

[So much to unpack and try and soothe away. Shichirou rises from the bed, starting to snap the lights of his house on.]

SHICHIROU: Please, come over. I'd like to see you. About the boy, unless he ▇▇▇▇▇▇▇▇ ▇▇▇▇▇▇ ▇▇▇▇▇▇ ▇▇▇-

[He pauses, shakes his head.]

SHICHIROU: Remember, Dabi is a violent criminal, Monoma's probably been abused into a mindset that makes him ▇▇▇▇▇▇ ▇▇▇, it doesn't mean he does. It's a good thing you caught them before this could get even worse, because now we can help him, and now we can press more charges against Dabi when we finally arrest him. Does that make sense, dear?

HAWKS: ...

HAWKS: One second..

[Hawks drops his phone, wiping his face and letting another few sobs shake his body before he collects himself again and picks up again.]

HAWKS: ...

It does.

...

But I don't think I wanna move.

[Already, Shichirou is throwing open his closet so he can retrieve a jacket.]

SHICHIROU: I can come to you. Tell me where you are, please.

[He shakes his head again, muttering to himself, floorboards creaking under his feet as he strides.]

SHICHIROU: You're drunk, you shouldn't be moving much anyway... Are you on any other drugs right now?

HAWKS: I'm at my place...

[Hawks is on the floor, sitting against his bed. He feels ready to pass out. He probably will by the time Shichirou gets to him.]

HAWKS: Yeah. Dunno what. Dabi likes to give me shit... Think it wore off though.. 'm getting sober too..

[A pause and he lifts himself again, wandering to his kitchen, mumbling to himself as he opens cabinets until he finds what he wants.]

HAWKS: Fuck..

SHICHIROU: I'll bring a drug test kit.

[There's a jingle as he snatches his keys from his desk.]

SHICHIROU: Depending on what it is in your system, that's possession. That's another charge, Hawks, you're doing so well. Are you drinking water? You should be laying down...

HAWKS: Yeah, well.

[A pause-he drinks. Its just a shot of vodka.]

HAWKS: I know he's got ecstasy and opiates and shit. Dunno where he gets it. Coke. Other shit, probably. Dunno.

[Another shot.]

HAWKS: I'm fine.

SHICHIROU: Hm.

[Silence as he considers that. He slips his shoes on and throws the door open, steps loud against the pavement outside.]

SHICHIROU: Try and find out his sources. Drug crime has been on the rise again.

...

Go lie down. I'm not telling you again.

HAWKS: Mmm...

[The phones microphone is covered momentarily, uncovered once Hawks has set down the shot glass again.]

HAWKS: Fine.

[He finds his way to the couch, sinking down into it and almost relaxing.]

SHICHIROU: Thank you.

[A variety of sounds as Shichirou unlocks his car and gets inside, the usual shuffle of trying to adjust his wings comfortably continuing for a few long moments.]

SHICHIROU: I'll be there in 20 minutes. Can you keep me on the line, please? You don't have to keep talking much if you don't feel up to it anymore.

HAWKS: What, you worried I'll die between now and then..

[Hawks huffs out like he's trying to laugh, listening to the faint sound of his wings. It'd be better if he was there.]

HAWKS: I'll be fine...

[Hands pat against his pants and shirt, trying to find his cigarettes and a lighter, unsuccessful with both.]

SHICHIROU: Yes. I am worried.

[Shichirou falls quiet. He starts the car, pulling out into the road. For a long moment, the only sound from his end is the hum of the engine.]

SHICHIROU: ▇▇▇▇▇, you're allowed to take breaks sometimes. I hope you know that.

HAWKS: ...

[Silence falls on his end. He listens to Shichirou's car, his soothing voice.]

HAWKS: Not really.

[Shichirou chuckles. It's a sad sound.]

SHICHIROU: ...

SHICHIROU: I care about you. You know that at least, yes?

HAWKS: I do.

[More silence.]

HAWKS: I hate this.

HAWKS: ...

HAWKS: I hate... it.

SHICHIROU: I know. ... I'm sorry.

HAWKS: I can't take a break... And I don't even know when I'll be able to. IF I'll be able to. Fuck, I might DIE before this ends, I...

[A sharp gasp and he's crying again, swearing to himself.]

HAWKS: I'm sorry...

SHICHIROU: ...

[Silence as he listens to him start to cry again.]

SHICHIROU: ... Do I need to take you off this case?

[He says it as gently as he can manage.]

[That sobers Hawks' thoughts for a moment, somewhat.]

HAWKS: No...

[He breathes the word out, wiping his face and forcing himself back together.]

HAWKS: No. No, I'm the best fit for it and we're already this far and... No.

HAWKS: ...

HAWKS: 'm just drunk and high and shit don't... Just. Just ignore me, alright...

SHICHIROU: I have no intentions of ever ignoring you, love.

[Another soft sigh.]

SHICHIROU: I'll keep that in mind, however. No need for any rash actions, I'll keep quiet... I don't want you to feel like you can't talk to me, ▇▇▇▇▇.

[He makes a pained sound, but nods.]

HAWKS: Still don't love that you call me that...

SHICHIROU: Sorry, sorry... Habit.

[A few seconds of silence, then:]

SHICHIROU: Do you have food at home? I can pick something up for you if you'd like. You should eat something small at least, it'll help absorb the drugs in your system.

HAWKS: It's fine. 's whatever....

Nah, I don't have much here... nothin I want, at least... Just.. pick up whatever, I'll eat it...

...

▇▇▇▇ ▇▇▇.

[Shichirou chuckles a little, fond.]

SHICHIROU: ▇ ▇▇▇▇ ▇▇▇, too.

HAWKS: Are you gonna be here soon...

SHICHIROU: Few more minutes...

HAWKS: Good... okay.. thank you.

SHICHIROU: Of course.

HAWKS: ▇▇▇▇ ▇▇▇ ...

SHICHIROU: ▇ ▇▇▇▇ ▇▇▇, too.

I'm almost at the door.

[A few more seconds of silence and Hawks hangs up.]

#shichirou.log #administration.arc #nurturance.arc

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amysubmits · 6 years ago

Note

Hi Amy :) I read a text post where you said CD wanted to make sure he knew where you were at the store. Has he always been protective of you like this? Or did it develop more after starting d/s as an act of ownership maybe?

Hi Anon :)

I think him keeping track of me in stores is more of an ownership thing and control thing than a protective one though a little bit of both. He dislikes being inconvenienced by having to walk around a store to find me when he’s ready to go. Though he kinda always had subtle control and was subtly protective of me, and both have just become more obvious since we entered into D/s. He was protective in ways like nagging me to go the the doctor and encouraging me to get enough sleep and such. He encouraged me to stand up for myself really early on, and on occasion would stand up for me if someone was being an asshole to me and I wasn’t biting back enough to make them back off. Sometimes CD says that when we say “we became D/s” we mostly made the implicit explicit. Which I think is true, in the sense that he always led our relationship it as just very subtle and it was just because most of the time I wanted to follow so most of the time I did. He always as proactive about handling things so he’d give his idea right away and I’d say that sounds great and that would be that. I very rarely ever say ‘no’ to his ideas which resulted in us doing things his way most of the time. So he led but it was just because he acted first and I hung back a lot. It was just sort of how our personalities naturally meshed, neither of us were conscious of him leading back then really. Where once we entered D/s I committed to give him my submission so now I do it even if I don’t feel like it because I owe it to him based on our agreement. And because he explicitly has control now I don’t feel like I have to hang back or keep quiet in order to let him lead so I voice my opinion more now and he still just gets the final say. And if I fuss about submitting in an area where I’ve agreed to, he can make me follow through. He used to just have a carrot, now he also has a stick.

I always did a lot of “Do you mind if I…?” type of questions. For things like what to make for dinner, whether to invite someone over, to borrow his phone, to adjust the thermostat or AC, to cut my hair, to going to bed, to vacuuming while he’s concentrating on something, to posting pictures of us on social media, to throwing out leftovers, to buying things, to organizing the pantry or closet, etc. Lots of little things. So I imagine I probably asked him if it as okay if I went to look at (whatever) in stores before we were D/s. But even though I was kinda subtly asking for his approval all the time, it was very rare for him to ever tell me ‘’no’ to most things because he didn’t feel it would be fair to me or that it would be a jerk move on his end. So he only did it if he thought what I was asking was harmful or something like that. But then once we started talking about DD and D/s he started to realize that when I ask for his approval I only want him to let me do things if it pleases him. That I don’t necessarily love being told no but that it isn’t mean because I crave his control more than I crave the little things I want. He knew explicitly that he had the right to tell me no if he felt it was warranted or if something I was asking didn’t please him, so he started to tell me no and to tell me what he wanted from me more often. Making our D/s explicit let him feel comfortable with taking control as he knew it didn’t make him an asshole as I wanted it too. It didn’t happen all at once though, it’s been a slow shift. I think with asking to wander off in stores he’s only told me no or given me answers like ‘You may look at make up but you stay in that section. Don’t leave that area. ’ in the last year or so. It started after he had a really hard time finding me one day because I had jumped departments multiple times and wasn’t at all where I had initially asked to go. So it took him a very long time to find me and I think he had started to get worried.

#asks #vanilla to d/s

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wlwkiryuu · 7 years ago

Text

nanami is a closeted lesbian

this was a theory of mine i used to have just minor evidence for, but after i tried to search up that evidence to compile i realized i actually have a LOT more than i bargained for! so heres ALL the evidence i have so far under the cut :’)

(also please note that i am adding my own personal experiences as a lesbian to this to derive this headcanon, so as they say: your mileage may vary! this is just for fun although i certainly wouldn’t put it past ikuhara + the producers of the show to hint that nanami isn’t straight.)

OK first off nanami seems to have a crush on miki waaayyy back in the sunlit garden prelude, when he's first introduced. but then she gets jealous when it turns out he’s too busy crushing on anthy.

she then decides to do everything she can in that one episode (snails. garter snake. octopus. you know the one) to get anthy out of the picture,

but then eventually it turns into her getting obsessed with utena and anthy themselves rather than getting them out of the way between her and miki.

compare nanami trying to humiliate anthy in front of miki vs her trying to ardently spy on utena and anthy to the point where she knows their schedules in order to sneak that curry into their class. it’s because of her own personal vendetta against them at this point. and THEN compare THAT to nanami trying to warn utena about akio in season 3 near the series finale even though there was literally nothing that required her to do that.

what's even more interesting is that nanami’s repeatedly been said to be one who never gets her own hands dirty when she’s up to no good; and yet in regards to utena and anthy?

she’s DEFINITELY more than willing to get her hands dirty. these two are just that special enough for her to be worthy of her attention.

(and even after touga is out of the picture—that is, once he’s basically revealed himself as the manipulative asshole that he was towards his sister all along—utena’s still deemed worthy of attention by nanami, who goes so far as to warn her about akio, which is...hmm! interesting!)

and what's even more worth mentioning on top of this is that whenever nanami humiliates someone? she usually succeeds in it! a prime example would be keiko in her black rose episode. even at the end, she just comes crawling back to nanami. but utena and anthy...they really end up testing nanami to the bone. and of course, that’s what makes their dynamics with nanami so interesting!

but more on that later. the main point here is that this is one of the first (if not the first) times nanami’s bullying has ended up hurting her rather than her victims. and it consequently opens up nanami’s eyes. she begins to regard these girls in a whole other way, on her own footing. which is kind of a major step in her making tensions with her brother reach a peak, until the season 3 arc comes crashing down on her. this makes her eventually realize she will never be able to see touga in/be with touga in the same way ever again, causing her to resolve to cut ties with one of the only men she has a eminent relationship with.

buuut back to the miki episode. notice nanami’s word choice when she praises miki! pride of the school. almost like she's inclined to like/settle for miki because of this, because she considers herself a pride of the school as well. she focuses more on his status and supposed superiority than anything; that’s the kind of thing nanami’s after/the kind of status she thinks makes her better than others as well. and you know who else she/the rest of the student body considers a pride of the school...?

yep! this asshole! and obviously she can't fulfill being loved that way with her brother bc a) she’s explicitly screamed and shoved him away when he tried to make an advance on her because she knows that kind of relationship is not right and b) her devotion to him to the point where she completely ignores other guys is a product of her idealization of men + compulsory heterosexuality.

(for clarification: touga is saying the top half after nanami pushes him away when he tries to advance on her, and nanami is saying the bottom half).

and here we have obvious proof that nanami does NOT want him as a partner and NEVER wanted him like that all along. so what am i trying to get at here? that she KNOWS touga kiryuu is unattainable. a significant aspect of compulsory heterosexuality is getting crushes on/idolizing guys who are idealized/unattainable. you can't get the guy anyways, so it's both “proof” that you're straight, and no one can say you never acted on that “crush” because getting that guy is impossible anyways.

this matches the theme in revolutionary girl utena surrounding the generalization/idealization of men by women forced into compulsory hetereosexuality perfectly (i mean miki’s literally called a “prince” because he has all these “ideal” noble qualities: rich, kind, good-looking, honest, talented, good grades/prodigy) and honestly provides a great parallel to utena and her “prince” (i say “prince” and not simply akio because touga toys with this idea as well in order to make utena lose her duel with him in episode 11!)

you know that scene where anthy’s wearing the dress nanami gave her and she watches it get wet and tear away at anthy’s clothes? you know, the classic introductory oh shit, nanami’s actually a huge asshole moment?

yeah, so upon rewatching that scene i realized the entire scene PLUS the part where utena rescues anthy and starts dancing with her is cut in between in various places by nanami’s commentary:

so its safe to say this whole scene is from nanami’s point of view.

...yeah. NANAMI’S point of view. and its ALSO worth mentioning that this is the first time nanami’s ever seen or heard of utena at all. thus begins our closeted disaster femme icon’s first taste of lesbianism.

oh and of course, the iconic scene from nanami’s egg where this happens.

ok WOW lots of good stuff here. yes, on the surface level, of course, the specific moment in context is where nanami confuses preferring to have a girl as a child to preferring girls romantically. but then again, it’s not like nanami actually laid an egg. revolutionary girl utena’s metaphor soup! there’s more to things than just face value.

what i’ve seen as the most universally accepted interpretation of this episode is that it’s about puberty, and specifically, the taboos involving menstruation. and of course, this completely makes sense! egg motif? check. tsuwabuki literally mentioning that nanami has to attend a health class? check. the episode starting out with a dream where nanami is a child, then paralleled throughout the rest of the episode with current, teenager nanami? check. touga talking about “eggs” disparagingly? check. the episode is about puberty, maturation of feelings, and adolescence, meaning that discussing sexuality is really not too far of a stretch in an episode that pretty much covers puberty in general! it totally matches the whole “coming of age” theme in both this episode AND the series (albeit it’s done in more serious undertones in the non-nanami bits of the show).

and you know what’s even more interesting? when touga hints that nanami liking girls is wrong, she doesn’t immediately jump to the fact that she likes guys as her defense. rather, she jumps to her specifically loving touga as her defense. and as i pointed out earlier, she knows she doesn’t want touga romantically. miki whom?

not to mention this gem:

...yeah. nanami’s first time seeing the “eggs” in question being put to use is by guys, and she’s visibly disgusted/horrified by it. not subtle at ALL, ikuhara.

and what’s MORE that i realized just from this one iconic episode? the alien motif.

ah, nanami’s incredibly absurd imagine spots. gotta love those! and they all fit a particular theme: alienation. and it’s honestly really odd to think about how nanami has this constant fear of alienation throughout this episode (and arguably throughout the series); she’s rich, popular, and consequently has the whole student body in the palm of her hand. and yet she STILL believes she’s not normal. really kind of parallels being closeted/”hiding something,” doesn’t it? and it’s cleverly referred to again upon nanami’s big arc in season 3, when her entire world comes crashing down as she believes her and touga aren’t actually siblings.

(the scene in question is right when keiko slaps nanami because she tells touga that “he shouldn’t go out with a girl like her [keiko].”)

ostracism/fear of ostracism seems to be a popular theme for nanami throughout the series.

so in this episode, nanami soon transitions from imagining being alienated to being behind her peers instead.

it’s constantly established that nanami only has eyes for her brother; the “only one she loves” is him. she’s never shown interest for any other guy, which is paralleled especially well in keiko’s black rose episode; nanami’s vicious attitude towards keiko manifests because keiko turns out to have eyes for the only one nanami has eyes for.

keiko’s the one acting “normally”; nanami’s the one seen as overtly possessive.

and, of course, knowing the nature of nanami’s character, her idolization of her brother is painted to such absurd extremes that she essentially shows she absolutely refuses to find another relationship. she’s in a “fairy-tale world”; she refuses to grow up, which even her brother admits at times.

another common aspect among closeted lesbians is the feeling that we’re “late bloomers” for failing to find any sort of interest in men. and so, thus, the line mentioned earlier that describes nanami’s fear, “being late compared to most people,” could very easily fit into this context.

and regarding tsuwabuki? yeah, this just sums it up perfectly.

miki’s so brutal in this episode, i love him. brutal but accurate!

and then, of course, we get that sweet, sweet confirmation again:

immediately followed by miki spitting out the truth yet again.

oh and interestingly enough, even with tsuwabuki, where she blatantly treats him like her personal servant, she still doesn’t want to let him go; particularly, she doesn’t want to let him go to other girls.

even with a (give or take) 10/11 year old child, nanami refuses to acknowledge him interacting with another girl. simply because he’s a guy.

an extremely common and integral part of nanami’s character is her constant desire for acceptance (lots of episodes showcase this! namely nanami’s egg and cowbell of happiness). she’s a “late bloomer” who shows no romantic desire for men whatsoever; therefore, she fulfills this criteria for “normalcy” by having literally every other relationship with guys except for romantic, as shown with touga, tsuwabuki, and even saionji and miki to some extent. but for the most part —it’s shown with touga and tsuwabuki, simply because they’re the most obvious examples of non-romantic relationships: siblings and a literal elementary schooler. it’s kind of funny, almost; it’s like nanami thinks “having relationships with guys” is just one of many things she’s obligated to cross off on her checklist for societal acceptance, and literally goes in the most roundabout way to achieve it without realizing what it even means (i.e., romantic relationships with a guy, not just a relationship in general), and completely failing.

and all of this leads me, of course, to the final aspect to analyze: nanami’s relationship with utena.

yeah, it’s pretty safe to say they don’t get along on the best of terms at first. nanami even tried to kill utena during their first duel!

so it’s incredibly interesting to see their relationship evolve after the events of that skirmish.

regarding their first duel in particular, the duel lyrics have a LOT in them to unpack.

My eternal self The eternal stranger Two relations Two births Scales of mystery Human constellation

“my eternal self” versus “the eternal stranger” brings up some interesting parallels. touga seems to be the eternal stranger, with whom nanami believes she is closer to than anyone else, and yet she seems completely unable to figure out his inner workings and who he really is as a person. no matter what she’d like to or not like to admit, touga is and always has been a complete mystery to her. this “human constellation” can thus never be truly connected. but you know who else is a mystery to nanami?

yep! the boy-girl of ohtori herself. you have to consider this isn’t only a duel provoked by touga; it’s a duel with utena. a duel between nanami and utena. their relationship is bound to be mentioned in the song as well. which is exactly why i believe nanami says this right after utena technically “wins” the duel by slicing nanami’s rose off.

nanami’s essentially setting herself up for a long, long rivalry spanning the rest of the series with those five words. it seems like nanami’s more interested in seeing what makes utena tick than her own brother, whom she claims to be the “only one she loves.” simply challenging utena isn’t enough; she has to understand her in order to defeat her. and this ideology is called back to later in nanami’s second duel with utena!

nanami ends up giving one hell of a fight the second time around. despite only fighting her once prior, she ends up knowing all of utena’s moves beforehand and dodging them. that’s how well she knows utena’s fighting techniques.

now lets look at the nature of the duel itself. what exactly makes nanami want to challenge utena a second time?

individuality! distinction! that’s what nanami wants. she dreads the thought of being “one more fly in the swarm.” now that she’s discovered her relationship with touga’s been lying on top of a foundation of lies the whole time, her world comes crashing down. she doesn’t want to adore her brother anymore. she wants to surpass him, and so, essentially, escape her problems. and so, in a sort of roundabout way since utena was the reason behind nanami’s meddling and tensions with her brother, she believes defeating utena will be the key to defeating all of her problems.

and, spoiler alert: it isn’t. the fact that nanami isn’t able to win this duel is especially important. even after she’s able to jump the hurdle of her brother, she fails to jump the hurdle of utena. she wants to “surpass everything,” that is, leave the old her behind. and at first it seems like she’s succeeding to leave everything behind...except for utena.

touga serves as the last link nanami has towards any sort of affection towards a guy. and in this duel, she straight up BREAKS it by admitting there was nothing between them at all.

and THEN utena asks if nanami feels better. even though she, like...literally just lost the duel. given utena’s character it’s probably just her naivete showing through, but given the underlying messages this series is ridden with, it probably refers to how nanami “defeating” touga was FAR more important than her actually defeating utena—that is, she never needed to defeat utena in the first place to feel better.

so, what we get from this is: a) nanami succeeds in breaking her bond towards touga, but b) fails to break that bond with utena.

🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔🤔

and of course the lyrics here in this dueling song as well:

You, me, our nature Our nature, our nature Free will and existence

who’s it about? the nature of the kiryuu siblings? the nature of nanami and utena as they act as foils? the ambiguity of the song is what really makes it interesting. not to mention—free will and existence. nanami wants out of this oppressive system. and she believes utena is the key to it (and, well, she’s not wrong!). take of that what you will symbolically, metaphorically, ikuharaesquely, etc.

and that free will and existence line just leads me to believe that nanami’s a foil to anthy in regards to utena, since free will and existence is essentially what utena fights for anthy to achieve in the end, and what anthy desperately desires: autonomy. and, so, given that these two are foils in regards to utena...well, we all know what anthy is in regards to utena.

...yeah. exactly. imagery/parallelism they didn’t absolutely HAVE to do, but did regardless.

and, so, by the end, even nanami’s seemed to have caught that inescapable sense of fondness for utena. she comes entirely out of good will on her own accord to warn utena of akio, and doesn’t even consider giving up when utena brushes her advice aside.

she’s insistent on drilling into utena’s head that she should get out of that house—even though doing so wouldn’t benefit nanami at all. utena promptly points out how uncharacteristic of nanami this is:

to which nanami immediately snaps back with:

nanami’s essentially admitting that utena’s the one who’s permanently altered her character and made her much less of a selfish brat (although she still has a loooonnggg way to go, obviously) than she was prior to the series canon. utena’s the cause for everything, direct or indirect: clashing with touga, getting over her brief crush on miki, developing a sense of empathy while transitioning from a desire for social acceptance to a desire for social independence...it’s all been catalyzed by utena at some point.

so, in brief?

utena revolutionized nanami’s world (see, i can’t even look at that sentence without thinking about how gay it sounds).

OKAY, so first off: thank you so so much for reading this far! i want to get into my last point of contention now, which is a super subtle conversation between utena and nanami near the end of the series but speaks VOLUMES, but before i do, i just wanna show two marginally interesting screencaps that fit this theory suspiciously well because i really want to save the best part for last.

exhibit a:

nanami + physical contact’s only ever been shown in regards to her brother. and yet the second utena comes into the mix...well, despite how trivial this scene is, the reaction is pretty satisfying.

exhibit b: nanami’s reaction to juri in the video game.

just tattoo i love women onto your forehead next time, nanami.

now on to what is possibly my favorite exchange in the entire series—that’s how much i love the underlying subtleties in this scene. utena brings up having “blood type-B” when talking to nanami in said scene. why? because just a few episodes earlier...

nanami finds out touga’s blood type never correlated genetically with her family’s.

which, later on in the episode, she ends up telling utena (and the fact that at this point she’s trusting utena enough to even marginally tell her what this whole mess is about is gratifying in itself).

so basically, the importance of this conversation?

(for clarification: utena’s saying the first half, and nanami’s saying the dialogue on the bottom-most screencap).

it shows the COMPLETE 180 nanami and utena’s relationship has gone through. misunderstandings and petty arguments and hostilities into something that’s blossomed through adversity to a relationship of mutual understanding. and, it feels like, for the first time in either of their lives, they’re actually in the loop on something, rather than being hopelessly confused in a maze of the bells and whistles of student council, the mystery behind the eternity duelists seek at the arena, the end of the world, the complete enigma that is touga kiryuu, and can finally just interact in this sort of liberating way that shows both of them at their best with one another.

and what i love about this is that nanami doesn’t get mad at utena. she doesn’t snap about how she spoke too soon about the whole incident. it’s questionable if she even cares about the whole incident now, considering the ties she broke off with touga at the climax of her second duel. rather, she knows what utena’s jokingly pointing at, and the two are in a mutual understanding of how much they’ve been through together in the hellscape that is ohtori academy.

but, the BEST part of this entire exchange? the part that shows probably the first time nanami’s ever gotten actual happiness from someone, something that shows that she’s finally past the superficial happiness from her unwitting adoration of touga that’s essentially been crumbled to dust by the end of her character arc, allowing her to finally set aside pleasing others and end up potentially discovering herself, far from when she first met utena?

nanami’s final reaction to her.

#revolutionary girl utena #nanami kiryuu #utena #rgu #let nanami...........have a gf..........2k17 to forever...........#meta #my meta

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that-curly-haired-lesbian · 7 years ago

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Can I have a queer analysis of Treacherous? I know it's low-hanging fruit but it's my current favorite Taylor song.

Wow, I’m clearly ahuge pushover when it comes to personal deadlines! In all seriousness though, thelast few days have been insane! I apologize to anon and everyone else who’sbeen waiting for this; but yes buddy, you can absolutely have an analysis of Treacherous. After all it’s a great songand imo it’s one of Taylor’s gayest!

All interoperation ofthe lyrics are my own and everyone else is free to view it as they personallysee fit, this is merely a suggestion for how to read the song.

AZLyrics provided thelyrics for this as always, so cred to them.

–

Put your lips close to mine

As long as they don’t touch

Out of focus, eye to eye

Till the gravity’s too much

–

Opening lines make something pretty clear, this is asexy song. It’s a song about temptation and lust and most of all it’s a songabout giving in to those things.

So we’re talking about a kiss here or perhaps moreaccurately, the moment just beforeyou kiss someone, when your lips are very close to theirs but not yet touching.How everything else sort of goes out of focus when you’re physically that closeto another person and how all you can see are their eyes and perhaps moreimportantly in this context, their lips. Then finally in the last line gravitypulls the two lovers together and they close the small distance left betweentheir lips and kiss.

“But, Theo!” You all shriek in alarm, “You haven’ttalked about any gay stuff yet, what makes these lines specifically gay?” Well,the pronoun of the lover is kept unspecified for one and the lines could be talking about how as closetedgay lovers you’re constantly tiptoeing that line of what is the appropriatedegree of affection to show in public. You can’t kiss, but is putting your lipsclose together and looking deeply into each other’s eyes, letting the rest ofthe world go out of focus okay? Yes, as long as your lips don’t touch you couldget away with it says Taylor. It’s a risk though, because sometimes the gravitybecomes too much and pulls you in when you’re that close together so the safe betis to only do stuff like that when alone with your secret gay lover, but thenagain nothing safe is worth the drive, is it? Nope, that’s what this whole songis about.

–

And I’ll do anything you say

If you say it with your hands

And I’d be smart to walk away

But you’re quicksand

–

The first time I heard this song I was actually quite surprisedat how racy this was for a Taylor song (of course this was before both 1989 and Reputation)

This is about sex in case anyone was confused and thehands-line immediately brings lesbian sex to mind so that’s um…gayyyyyyyy! 🌈🌈

+ the fact thatTaylor will do anything her lover asks her to (in the bedroom and maybe evenout of it, but we’ll get to that later) as long as she “says it with her hands”also implies that said lover is really, really good at the whole sex thing. So,um, eh, good going, Dianna! …I guess…Tay, this was almost TMI for someone who’sbeen listening to you since you were 16! Seriously, every time Taylor alludesto something sexual in her songs my first thought is always: “Oh my god, stopit Taylor, you’re twelve!”

Kidding, kidding; please keep writing explicitly aboutgay sex, we need more songs about that and I’m proud of you for letting yourlyrics grow up with you!

Anyway, after the whole sex thing Taylor informs usthat the smart thing to do would be to walk away from her lover and theirrelationship, but she’s in too deep already and her relentless unforgivingattraction (physical as well as emotional) to this woman just keeps pulling herdeeper still, as if she was stuck in quicksand unable to move.

–

This slope is treacherous

This path is reckless

This slope is treacherous

And I, I, I like it

–

We’ve previously talked about Taylor using “dangerous”or “reckless” as a word for exploring or indulging in one’s same-sex attraction(similar to how she sometimes uses “princess” for heterosexual girls and otherwords associated with royalty/fairy-tales for her career-motivated, publichetero-image) and this song is the ultimate example of this.

She’s saying she knows that acting on her attraction tothis woman is a dangerous, reckless thing to do, but she’s also saying that shelikes it, she likes the element of danger, she likes being attracted to womenand to this one in particular. Being in lesbian relationships is a treacherousthing when you’re closeted and famous, for this same reason it’s also not asmart thing (career-wise) for her to do, II’s a slippery slope towards beingcaught in a compromising gay moment and having to come out. She knows all thisand yet she doesn’t care, because she wants the relationship, the love and thepreviously stated hella good sex. (“We need love, but all we want is danger”)

–

I can’t decide if it’s a choice

Getting swept away

I hear the sound of my own voice

Asking you to stay

–

So Taylor knows that acting on these gay desires ofhers are not to recommend and yet she finds herself asking the girl to say withher to try and make the relationship work, because just as Taylor can’t controlher attraction to women (because, ya know, being gay is in no way a choice)“getting swept away” and falling for someone isn’t a choice either. Despitewhat Taylor says about now being able to tell if she’s chosen this predicamentfor herself by encouraging the ill-advised relationship to go on, we in fact donot control when and how we fall in love.

Being with Dianna may not be the smartest thing forwhatever reason, be it the gay thing or other aspects of thismaybe-not-entirely-healthy relationship. As Taylor herself has admitted therelationship most of the songs on Red areabout was in fact toxic in some ways. (x)

All that be damned though, Taylor is in love and wantsher girlfriend to stay despite it all.

–

And all we are is skin and bone

Trained to get along

Forever going with the flow

But you’re friction

–

To me the “skin and bones”-line could indicate that much ofthe relationship is sexual at this point, Like their chemistry and connection is now mostly sexual…I guess that this could also betalking about beards though, oddly enough…Hear me out here. So, Taylor and herbeards are in a sense trained to get along, Taylor (presumably) not beingattracted to men has to pretend to be all the time, not just in music videos orwhen she uses male pronoun in a song, but also to her beards and since she’ssupposedly dating this guy their chemistry has to look natural. Skin and boneprobably refers to a body right and my first impulse was to relate it to bodiesin literal, (gay) sexual context since like I’ve said this song is prettysexual, but what if she just means that she’s trained to get along with themale body out in public (just as her gay beards have to pretend to be attractedto girls and the female body in order to make them look convincing as acouple.) ��Since their chemistry has tolook real and couple-y Taylor tends to just “go with the flow” and do whatlooks natural when in public with le beard (mostly just hold his hand)

This is whatshe’s been “trained” (by PR-team and publicists) to be able to do with males inorder to be “straight-passing”, but going with the flow and acting natural withyour “boyfriend” when you have a relationship with your secret girlfriendbecomes hard. Taylor often refers to herself as an “actress” in the context ofbearding and acting becomes harder when you have something real to compare itto. There are such contrasts between how Taylor acts with her beards and withher actual girlfriend that the real relationship becomes a force pushing Tayloraway from the beards and stopping any chemistry she might’ve been able toforce, blocking her “straight-passing”-ability with real and natural chemistrythat now makes whatever she does with the beards look stiff and forced incomparison (because it is….)

As we know friction is a force that slows down anobject’s movement, in this case, Taylor is the object and the girlfriend is theforce blocking her ability to seem or act straight.

Bonus fact: the “friction”-line is also very coolsince the verses before it follow an ABAB rhyme scheme, but this line goesagainst that just like friction goes against the direction of movement. THE LINE IS LITERALLY FRICTION AND TAYLORALISON SWIFT IS A LYRICAL GENIUS!!

…Sorryfor being such a lit student for a second, moving on now.

–

(Chorus)

–

Two headlights shine through the sleepless night

And I will get you a—get you alone

Your name has echoed through my mind

And I just think you should, think you should know

That nothing safe is worth the drive

–

On 1989 somethingthat seems to come up a lot in the songs that I personally assume to be aboutDianna is cars or driving. That seems to have gotten its start on Red in this song as well as in thetitular song, Red (“Loving her was like driving a new Maseratidown a dead-end street”) in this song we see the car theme yet again. To methe image being painted by this line is always two lovers going home togetherthrough the night, but with no plans of sleeping (😏) hence the sleeplessnight.

“To get someone alone” is a phrase Taylor uses quite alot in her songs and I think it refers to when her and her current girlfriendare not in public and thus can actually act like a couple as opposed tootherwise when they have to pretend to be merely friends. So basically they’redriving home together and away from the heteronormative public.

“Your name has echoed through my mind” or somevariant thereof is also a choice of words Taylor has used in more than one songand it seems to signify that she’s deeply in love or infatuated with someone. Sobasically what she’s saying is that while in public pretending to be platonicwith her girl all she’s actually thought of is how in love she is and how niceit’ll be to be alone and get to be romantic away from flashing cameras andprying eyes.

Here she’s letting the girlfriend know that while she’saware their relationship is “dangerous” (translation: gay) she doesn’t wantanything else, she doesn’t want “safe” (translation: straight) because that’s notreal (a straight relationship couldn’t be real for Taylor since she’s y’know, gay)and therefore wouldn’t be worth the effort, or “the drive” to keep with the cartheme.

–

And I would follow you, follow you home

I’ll follow you, follow you home

–

So, at first glance this seems creepily stalkerish, doesn’tit? *laugh* but I’m pretty sure that what it means is Taylor and Dianna couldn’tleave some sort of public event together. Why? Well, that’d indicate that theywere going home together (which theyobviously were but das gay, shhhhh) so instead Taylor simply left a while afterDianna and proceeded to follow her home in a separate car so they could meet upthere instead of leaving together. The lines simply refer to details you haveto keep in mind when your relationship is secret, such as not publicly goinghome together.

–

This hope is treacherous

This daydream is dangerous

This hope is treacherous

I, I, I… I, I, I… I, I, I…

–

Remember before when I said that maybe the “I’ll doanything you say”-line wasn’t solely applicable in a sexual situation? Yeah,maybe this relationship had gotten Taylor hoping and perhaps even daydreamingabout a possible come out someday. I know there has been Swiftgron speculationabout how Dianna wanted to come out, well maybe Taylor was starting toseriously contemplating doing that for/with her? She still knew however that having hope for thatblissful someday where they could befree to love openly was probably gonna lead to disappointment, it was unwise and daydreaming about it was downright dangerous since that’d feed that littleflicker of hope. Yet Taylor doesn’t seem to be able to help herself here. There’shopefulness in the very way she sings these lines if you ask me.

–

(Chorus)

–

This slope is treacherous

I, I, I like it

–

Speaking of hope, to me it seems like the song ends inquite a hopeful way too, Taylor reminds us again that she’s aware that the pathshe’s headed down may be dangerous and unwise, treacherous if you will, butthen lastly she reminds us again that she actually doesn’t care because shelikes that danger. Remind me, in Taylor’s songs what is described as either “dangerous”or “reckless” (or both) most of the time? That’s right people, Taylor Swift likes being a giant lesbian because G IR L S !!!!!!!!!!!!!! (That’s the most relatable thing I’ve ever heard tbh)

Oh god, Treacherousreally is a gay mess of a song, huh? I,I, I like it…though!

–

Thanks for reading asalways and I hope you enjoyed!

Next song is The Way I Loved You and I will try to have it up tomorrow though we’vealready established I’m not the best with deadlines, but rest assured I am getting to all of my analysis requestssooner or later, that I promise!

Don’t hesitate tosend me asks if you have suggestions for more songs to analyze from a queerperspective or if you just want to talk or have questions! 😊

#gaylor swift #swiftgron #kaylor #songs #queer analysis #asks

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deadsince1973 · 4 years ago

Photo

OMG, thank you for asking! I’ve been hinting about this in my tags for a while now and nobody’s ever asked, so I’ve been really debating about whether I should post this or not! (Although, to be fair, it was also because I knew this was going to be long, and I felt too lazy to type it all up.)

I just want to start by saying I cannot emphasize enough that I don’t want to take away from anyone’s love for the Captain! If you find him positive representation and relatable, then I support your happiness in this!

But, that being said, I think Them There/Six Idiots’s representation of gay and trans characters is not very good. I could bring in examples from their other works (i.e. Yonderland and Bill), but I’ll try to limit myself to the Captain.

I’ve seen people say things like, “It’s so great to see a gay man where his sexuality isn’t the joke!” But, it is the joke. It’s the whole joke! Okay, to be fair, it’s only half the joke, because the other half is how militaristic he is. But when the joke is about him being attracted to someone, the whole joke is that he’s gay! Take for example when he first sees Mike. Humor exists in the subversion of expectations. Thomas says, “Let me pluck out my eyes, for I shall never see such beauty again,” as the camera shows Alison. Then the Captain says, “Yes.” There’s a pause, where the audience assumes he’s also talking about Alison. But then he adds, “He’d make a very fine soldier,” and we laugh because our heteronormative expectations have been subverted. The Captain is gay. That’s what’s funny! The Captain then clears his throat. We understand that he’s not out and proud. He’s not unashamed of his lust, the way Thomas and Kitty are. The facade of a straight man is maintained, allowing the show to continue to exploit the gap between the behavior expected of a straight man and the Captain’s behavior for laughs. If the joke goes beyond his being gay, it’s that he’s gay and closeted.

Now, you could argue that that wasn’t the joke, that the joke was that he was so invested in his military lifestyle that he conflated it with his sexuality. In other words, the joke was that he was attracted to soldiers, not all men. But that’s not the case at all, because no other case of him combining his fascination with war with attraction to anybody is ever shown. Additionally, because of the heteronormative bias we’re all immersed in every day (not to mention the very real behavior of military recruiters and real-life soldiers), we just more firmly expect a person with an unspecified sexuality to be straight than we do for an army captain to not look at the world and every person in it through a military lens. In other words, there’s more of a gap between our expectations of his sexuality and its subversion than there is between our expectations of appropriate behavior for an army captain and its subversion to exploit. Therefore, even though both his being attracted to a man and the reason why/the way he chooses to express that attraction are humorous, the bulk of our laugh comes from the realization of his sexuality. In order to exploit his expression of his lust in the form of military recruitment for laughs, the writers would have needed to remove the question of his sexuality from the joke altogether. To do this, they would have had to establish his sexuality explicitly and unambiguously before this scene. They did not do that.

You could then argue that that was the first joke, and it established his sexuality, and none of the jokes about his attraction afterwards exploited that expectation. But, as I said above, they still did not make his sexuality explicit. He pretends to be straight, and so we expect him to act straight. That’s as good as actually expecting him to be straight before the first joke for the purposes of laughs. Either way, we expect him to act straight, and so when he acts gay, he subverts our expectations and makes us laugh. Again, the whole joke is that he’s gay.

I’d like to turn now to the way his sexuality is treated in the serious parts, how it’s treated outside of the jokes. I do want to add the caveat here that I don’t find this show emotionally compelling at all, the way a lot of people do. So I am coming at it from that point of view.

After the first season, I said I would be more okay with them exploiting the Captain’s being closeted for laughs if they actually seriously addressed what it’s like to be a closeted gay man. For the record, I know Ben Willbond said in at least one interview that he didn’t want to “ge[t] too deep about it because it is just a comedy.” Personally, I don’t agree with that point of view. I believe that if you’re going to deal with a socially sensitive issue in a comedy, you should give the weight it deserves. I don’t believe everything in a comedy has to be for laughs. Perhaps if you find the Captain emotionally compelling, you would disagree with me that his experience with his sexuality needs to be treated earnestly (and you probably agree with me that not everything in a comedy has to be for laughs). I can respect that opinion, but I’m afraid I do not share it. I would have liked to have seen an explicit depiction of his experience and struggles with his sexuality.

Which brings me, of course, to Redding Weddy. Frankly, I think the Captain throughout the entire show is barely one step away from queerbaiting. Yes, at least there’s never any hint of his actually being heterosexual. That’s a slight improvement from most queerbaiting. But they still never make his sexuality explicit. To my knowledge, none of Them There have even said the words “gay” or “homosexual” in an interview in relation to the Captain. It’s an unspoken understanding between the show and the audience, and that leaves the character open to interpretation. There are allegedly fans out there who still do not believe the Captain is gay. And to my mind, Redding Weddy just gives those fans ammunition.

Redding Weddy is ambiguous. The Captain is clearly as horny as a goat for his lieutenant. But at the same time, even then, even in a flashback, even when the Captain is alone with the audience, we get no explicit confirmation of his sexuality. The Captain’s explanation of Operation William is unclear. It could be taken at face value. In that case, the Captain never wrote a letter to Havers, he really did just bury blueprints with the mine, and all the hinting that he was in love with Havers was just misdirection. At best, we can believe that both were true: that the Captain was in love with Havers, and the misdirection was in the story’s focus on his feelings to distract the audience from the fact that he was really buying secret blueprints. At worst, the whole thing was a misdirection, and he was never in love with Havers at all. I don’t believe that, but it is a perfectly reasonable interpretation. It could also be that the Captain was lying about the blueprints. In that case, he really did write a love letter to Havers and hide it with the mine, only concocting the story about the blueprints and the whole operation being called “Operation William” at the last minute when he needed to explain the mine to Alison. That makes less sense to me, because why would he need to mention the paper and the name William at all, now that it had been blown up? However, you could still explain that away by him being afraid that the letter survived and trying to pre-empt any questions, should the letter ever be found. That’s a bit too much of a stretch in my opinion, but still not a totally unreasonable explanation. I think it’s significant that none of the other ghosts weighed in on the story, even though at least one or two of them must have seen or heard something. I think the story was kept deliberately ambiguous in order to keep the Captain’s very obvious sexuality as vague as was still possible. I don’t like that.

What I would have liked to have seen, more than anything else in regards to the Captain, is for them to have treated his sexuality the same way they treated Kitty’s race: as completely inconsequential. I’m not good enough with history to know exactly when Kitty lived and died, but she’s supposed to be a noble, or at least rich, Georgian woman, right? Google tells me that slavery was not abolished in the British Empire until 1833, under the reign of William IV (who, as I know we all remember from The Monarchs Song, came after George IV). Would a black woman have been granted dignity and respect in the heart of an empire built by the labor of people enslaved with no justification other than the color of their skin? If I’m wrong, please correct me, but I don’t expect so.

I do understand the need for both types of stories. I understand that there’s value in stories about a person of color, or a woman, or a member of any other minority or disadvantaged group fighting for equality and gaining ground. It’s good to have stories that explicitly support equality. But it is my opinion that there’s also value in simply presenting that equality, as unrealistic as it might now seem. It normalizes that equality, and it lets people who identify with one of the disadvantaged groups feel included. That’s why I love seeing a black woman being a Georgian noblewoman, because why shouldn't black people be able to dream of belonging to any period of British history that they want to? None of us can time travel, so it’s no more unrealistic for a black person to dream that than a white person. And that’s why I would have liked to have seen the same thing with the Captain. No, of course homosexuality was not accepted in the 40′s. But why shouldn’t we be able to pretend that it was? Why can’t we just see a gay man being treated completely equally to everyone else, irrespective of his sexuality? Why can’t we let gay men and maybe even others who identify as anything other than cis and straight dream of being able to be themselves in any historical era that they want to? That’s why I would very much have preferred if the Captain was just out, that they used a word like “gay” or “homosexual” on the show in reference to him, and if the whole joke of his character was just his military ways. Possibly mixed with how horny he is, just like Thomas or Kitty. But, in that case, as with Kitty and Thomas, the joke would not have been that he was gay, it would have just been that he wanted carnal satisfaction when he had no physical form. That would have been much better representation in my opinion.

This has all be in answer to the question above, posed on my post about how the Captain dancing with a gay couple at the end of season 2 was magical. I stand by that. I want the Captain to be out and happy, and him indulging himself and being comfortable with his sexuality makes me happy. But the fact that his sexual orientation is so often the butt of jokes, that they never address his struggles about getting comfortable with himself, and that they never dignify him by saying his sexuality out loud makes me feel frustrated and disappointed.

#winoforever32 #Gosh sorry I'm sure you weren't expecting an essay!#If you or no one else reads this I don't blame anyone! Yikes...#Ghosts #BBC Ghosts #opinion #original

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