#gay. period piece. pretty dresses
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Finishing Gentleman Jack last night has me in a spiral I literally don’t know how I will fill up the meaningless hours until season 3 comes out I don’t
#the absolute grip this show has on me. it’s literally perfect#it’s. it’s everything#gay. period piece. pretty dresses#CRAVATS. lesbian. lesbian IN CRAVAT#CHARASMATIC determined smart main character who’s charm is slightly off putting#EVERYONE is named ann(e)#the way surrane jones looks at the camera. every time#I’ve gotten so incensed that I yell at her when she looks at the camera#because she’s so DUMB and also WRONG but also I love her#i have to lie down
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could i possible request fem!cove and fem MC?? just little head canons both sfw and nsfw! i have nothing entirely specific in mind but just anything that you'd like 😊
THE SMILE ON MY FACE *KICKS FEET* HEHE OF COURSE YOU CAN
eta now that im done: this is a big mindless, nonsense ramble i. im sorry. i was having the biggest gay panic of my life thinking abt her LMFAO 💀💀
tags : SFW + NSFW, fem/afab cove and reader, oral (cove receiving, reader receiving ment), menstruation ment,
synopsis : me losing my mind over fem!cove 🏌️
SFW
she's not much different to cove already ofc
but in my head she shines so bright omfg...
i like to imagine she's buff no matter what
washboard abs, toned arms and thighs...
but then think abt studious!cove
i want her to be soft....
bitta tummy, thighs perfect to wrap around your head... just squishy
so torn between the two. pls i can't she's PERFECT
either way, strong enough to pick you up
if big n buff she princess carries you all the time
if you do the same back tho, once you put her down she can't stand on her feet
she's swooning. actually falling. she's in love....
MATCHING CLOTHES
ah. you two going shopping and you seeing a dress n getting it for her....
she wears it on your next date, all shy and cute because she doesn't wear dresses often
dies if you give her attention over it, especially if you make a risque comment- she can't handle it
definitely lets you put makeup on her, she's just not good so if you are, please help...
once you see her in lip gloss for the first time, please kiss her and make a comment like "your lips looked so delicious, i couldn't help it" or "i like that color on you, do you think it'd suit me too?"
and then make it a habit bc now she's buying many lip glosses so you can kiss her silly <333
back to the doesn't wear dresses/skirts often thing
i think she's very active
always in shorts, t-shirt, tank top...
i wanna put her in a 2 piece suit
nice black slacks and a vest
the vest accentuating her chest because of it's low cut..
but i'd most likely to put her in a pretty dress for the ORCA dinner
does her best to dress up, even gets a bit of help from randy bc she is definitely a bit lost when it comes to fashion
but when you see her she literally knocks the breath outta you
she IS the prettiest girl in the world
ohhh her in the low light of the dinner, the blue lights just making her look so magical
pls she's everything to me
SHE STEALS YOUR CLOTHES.
OMG HER SLEEPING IN YOUR T-SHIRT!!!!
if your shirt is big n baggy on her she looks so cute...
although if your clothes run smaller or she's in a crop top/tight shirt....
imma save that for NSFW...
if you like painting your nails, she'll match!!!
isn't good at keeping them from getting chipped, but she does her best
omfg so i've seen some people say that their periods sync with their girlfriends (me n my bestie are always synced istg!!!!)
that's you and cove
you two usually know that if you got it, the other got theirs or is getting theirs
even if you get on birth control or have say pcos or smth like that that causes your periods to be irregular/disappear, pls still comfort n hang out w her!!!
i think hers is quite irregular as well so sometimes she's the one comforting you
now im projecting af, but when she gets it it's heavy!!!
not projecting but she definitely cramps, sometimes worse than others
either way, she loves cuddling up together and watching movies and stress eating snacks with you
anyway moving on before i add smth else<3333
NSFW
still a professional pussy eater !!!
(i watch this podcast and i need yall to see *this clip bc i just wanna say.... cove would definitely eat pussy to the bone. he's a DAWG!!!!)
probably even better at navigating your cunt since it's familiar territory
NOW ABOUT HER TITTIES IN THAT TIGHT SHIRT<33
she does her damnedest to NOT wear a bra, usually wears a sports bra
but again, she prefers no bra <3
and sometimes she gets away with it
but i love the idea of her waking up, her shirt all wrinkled and crooked, making it more fitting than it already is.
you can't focus on your cereal because she's shuffling towards you, nipples straining against the thin fabric.
cove flopping next to you on the couch, stealing bites of your cereal. and before she knows it, you kissed her breathless and all but snatch her shirt off, enticed by the rise and fall of her chest.
cupping cove's tits in your hands, she's so soft, and cove let's out the prettiest whimper when you brush your fingers over her nipples
if you suck on her chest, you get an even better reaction, cove rewarding you with loud moans and desperate calls of your name.
her hands in your hair, legs shaking and thighs clenching around you, totally ruined when you slip your hand into her sleep shorts, your fingers running over her darling clit.
she's cute<333
ah. i had a thought that i wanted to share earlier hehe
double sided dildo w cove....
holding hands while you both fuck back on the toy, cove hooking her legs over yours and getting as close as possible to play with your chest and kiss you..
ohh but would love if you got on top, the toy hitting both of you so deep inside, cove's body bouncing from the force of your hips
oh my fucking god.
she's a squirtter
arghh imma lose my MIND
imagine the first patreon moment, and you have her laid out all pretty in her bed, her legs over your shoulders and a hold on her thighs to keep her from crushing your head.
her thighs trembling in your hold, feet bumping against your back and she's clawing at the sheets, whining and moaning so pretty about how your tongue feels so good, low curses slipping from her lips...
tries pushing you away, tears in her eyes.
"y/n- oh god.. wait, i'm- imma make a mess!" she whimpers, throwing her head back when you just suck on her clit more intensly, your fingers curling against her spongy walls, loud squelches coming from your ministrations.
would make such a mess, the covers under her butt getting soaked in her fluids, it's even running down your neck and chest, a sight she has to tear her eyes away from when she finally comes down from her high.
would look so pretty too, her eyes rolled back and thighs trembling, back arching up and she'd fuck back on you, milking her orgasm and whimpering from any minor touch to her sensitive body..
oh and she'd peek at you through wet, spidery lashes, her pretty blues look so brilliant and darling even with the low light of the room and once she stops covering her face with her arm/fingers, you can see the bright blush on her face.
jfc she'd be such a sight, you might have to do her again just to make sure you don't forget it.
#our life: beginnings & always#olba#cove holden#cove holden x reader#smut#cove holden smut#cove holden x mc
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The November's Film and Filming in 1987.
Although the magazine selected Maurice as its cover, Maurice was only rated two stars in its Reviews colomn(4 stars: outstanding, 3 stars: very good, 2 stars: good or interesting, 1 star: poor, 0: dud) and was dissected by a critic named RONALD BERGAN, saying Maurice had become a period piece with such risible lines as I'm an unspeakable of the Oscar Wilde sort from the Eighties standpoint...and Ivory has been let down by his Jamesian (Forsterian?) lack of passion...
Maurice Hall falls in love with Clive Durham when they are undergraduates at Cambridge,but their relationship remains semi-Platonic. i.e. cuddling but no sex. When Clive marries Anne, Maurice feels betrayed. He is tortured by his desires, and goes to a hypnotist for help. One night, at Clive's country estate, Alec Scudder, the young under-gamekeeper, enters his bedroom and they make love. Maurice gradually decides to risk everything and commit himself to Alec.
‘GAYS grow up watching heterosexual movies ...watching Now Voyager and deciding whether they are Bette Davis or Paul Henreid.’ said Harvey Fierstein, author of Torch Song Trilogy. Maurice, at least, is a boy's own love story and it has a happy ending.
When E.M. Forster's 1914 homosexual novel was finally published in 1971, it had become a period piece with such risible lines as ' I'm an unspeakable of the Oscar Wilde sort? James lvory and his co-writer, Cambridge-educated Kit Hesketh-Harvey, have been more faithful to Forster than he was to himself, but the above quote is now cleverly seen at an ironic distance, from our Eighties standpoint. Earlier in the film, the Dean of Trinity (Barry Foster, nice and dry) implants the idea by commenting on the ‘unspeakable love of the Greeks, during a tutorial on the Symposium. Sadly, although gay fiction has moved on, attitudes have not changed drastically. An American hypnotist (Ben Kingsley) advises Maurice to go and live in another country where homosexuality is legal because, 'the English will never understand human nature: This line brought applause from the understanding English preview audience.
Again, as in Heat and Dust, Quartet and Room With a View, the non-English team of Merchant and lvory (this time without Ruth Prawer Jhabvala) have looked at English hypocrisy, and meticulously recreated a stiffly hierarchical society. Maurice is as literate, subtly intellectual, pretty and precious as we have come to expect from them, something to be grateful for when our screens are dominated by trashy teen pics. It certainly is the type of film that should do well in America where audiences prefer to have their images of England reinforced by seeing beautiful manners and manor houses (Brideshead re-revisited), gorgeous costumes and decor, and abundant servants. Ivory coasts in a rather leisurely academic style from one well-dressed, tasteful scene to another, sugaring the pill of sexual repression and class distinction. Pierre LHomme's sometimes murky photography, covers the period in a glow of nostalgia.
But there is another kind of nostalgia at work, as in Prick Up Your Ears, which looks back in envy at a pre-AIDS world, when one didn't have to stop to slip on a condom when the under-gamekeeper entered one's window at night and joined one in bed. The prole (played with slightly wavering accent by Rupert Graves) hovers around in the background for ages before he and Maurice make it together. Unfortunately, this key moment in the hero's sexual liberation comes across as a bit of groping under the blankets in the dark. Once again, as in Room With a View, Ivory has been let down by his Jamesian (Forsterian?) lack of passion.
Unlike the 'clone look' of today, moustaches denote respectability in the film. After his youthful fling with Maurice-lying on the grass in each other's arms and punting together- Clive (Hugh Grant,another actor in the upper-class Rupert Everett mould) grows a moustache, marries and becomes a Tory candidate. When Maurice enters the City as a stockbroker, he begins to sport blond hair on his upper lip. Once sexually freed, the moustache vanishes.
With or without facial hair, newcomer James Wilby (replacing Julian Sands after shooting began), physically of the James Fox sort, kept reminding me of lan Carmichael as the innocent, often called Windrush, in those Boulting brothers comedies of the late Fifties. Most of the pleasure derives from the cameo performances by Simon Callow, a bearded schoolmaster, Mark Tandy, a corruptor of youth, Patrick Godfrey, a knowing butler called Simcox, Peter Eyre, a prissy parson and, yes, naturally, Denholm Elliott.
RONALD BERGAN
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eddie munson is perfectly normal, thank you very much. sure, people around town call him a freak because he dresses different and his music is a little too loud and he's in a band and likes to play dnd, but the people in town are also boring and their idea of a good time is going to church on sunday so they can gossip about everyone the other six days of the week. that's fine, eddie doesn't mind that they call him that, in fact, he's learned to embrace the title and wear it proudly like some sort of badge or something. badge of honor? eh, he has no idea what they're called. still, he prefers they call him freak for the noticeable differences. he doesn't even want to imagine what they'd call him if they knew the truth about him.
you see, the thing about eddie is that he can see the angel and the devil on his shoulders and actually hear them. sure, that doesn't sound special or impressive at all, but he doesn't think anyone else has the ability to do that. at all.
the devil on his left shoulder insists that his name is billy and everything he does and says makes the title of 'devil' a very well-earned title. he's the one that convinced eddie that selling weed and drugs as a side job was a good idea, and he's the one that pointed out the black sabbath album to him all those years ago and then convinced him to look for more music like that. of course, those are the tame things that billy's done. he's done much worse and whispered even more horrible things into his ear, but if eddie went into details then he would never shut up.
now, the angel on eddie's right shoulder is called steve, and he's, well- an angel. whenever eddie finds himself making what steve calls a 'horribly thought out and probably billy-influenced bad decision', he'll look at his left shoulder in amusement just to see steve giving him a very unimpressed look with his hands placed on his hips. he's the one that taught eddie to be kind and showed him how to love himself and accept himself with open arms and ignore the whispers behind his back. he's constantly urging eddie to be good and always there to soothe eddie when he feels horrible for being a little too bad.
the angel and the devil on his shoulders have a very... interesting relationship. they're constantly arguing and billy's always cursing up a storm as loudly as possible just to watch steve blush up the the roots of his hair and, it seems like to eddie, billy is always pulling steve's proverbial pigtails. steve is a little dense, though, so he never seems to notice but he's more than happy to argue with billy and insist that he let eddie make more good decisions for the good of his soul or whatever. eddie has become an expert in tuning them out when they start arguing/flirting.
eddie's also learned that, while he can't see everyone else's angel and devil, if he's close enough to a person, he'll slowly start to notice them and eventually see them.
the biggest example of this is robin buckley. that girl has the most accurate gaydar in all of hawkins and she noticed eddie pretty quickly and immediately befriended him. gay solidarity, she called it. a few weeks into their friendship, he started noticing faint outlines on her shoulders and now, 3 years into being her best friend, he can very clearly see the blonde angel on her right shoulder, chrissy, and the redheaded devil on her left shoulder named carol.
that's where they are now. sitting together under the bleachers and cutting second period at billy and carol's insistence with eddie listening to robin ramble about her crush on vickie. steve is quiet on eddie's shoulder, listening intently to the other girl because he likes giving her love advice via eddie and absentmindedly braiding a piece of eddie's hair.
"should i confess to her during band practice today?" robin asks and eddie absentmindedly says "shut up, carol" to the tiny redhead's apparent delight, judging by her little delighted cackles, figuring that robin's horribly thought out idea was actually carol's doing. he can faintly hear chrissy scolding the redhead but he doesn't pay them any attention, too busy watching how a bored billy hides in his hair to bother steve, yanking the braid out of his little hands and laughing at the startled screech that steve lets out.
"they're active today, huh?" robin asks with a knowing smile, eddie having told her about his special condition a few months into their friendship since it was hard to hide how his gaze would drift to her shoulder whenever carol would start her loud complaints about boredom when robin would talk about band practice. "when aren't they?" he sighs, already tuning out steve and billy's loud arguing. robin snorts quietly at that, blissfully ignorant to the pair of snuggling entities on her shoulder, their earlier argument seemingly forgotten.
so yeah, eddie's more of a freak than people realize but he can happily say that he's never alone and he appreciates having advice that he can actually hear being whispered to him at all times. as he stands up and walks with robin to their third period when the bell rings, deciding to actually listen to chrissy and steve because their pouting faces are just too adorable to ignore, he pretends to not notice billy kissing steve and the angel blushing beet red but cuddling close to the grinning devil, instead choosing to tell robin about his plans for his next campaign, happy that, even if billy and steve were stuck with him, they weren't actually alone.
#i have no idea what this is#and i had no idea how to finish this#just a cute au idea i had#eddie munson#robin buckley#angel!steve harrington#devil!billy hargrove#angel!chrissy cunningham#devil!carol perkins#established but sneaky harringrove#implied chrissy x carol#do they have a ship name? please let me know
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i actually had a dream about sheila last night sjsjjsp i love her and i know you don’t talk about her a lot but: what was her experience growing up as a lesbian in alaska in like. the ‘50s/‘60s (i don’t remember if you mentioned her exact age but im assuming it was around that period)? what got her into woodworking? did she and her wife ever want kids? if so, what kept them from having kids? most importantly would she post minion memes on facebook? also i just love her for your au… jesse getting another experienced older role model and baby having a surrogate aunt/grandma figure, even if she can’t totally remember josephine, and someone who will encourage her to be more confident and outspoken is 🥲💕‼️
the idea of sheila barging into a dream is SO funny to me omg, i hope it was a good experience :') the alaska story starts canonically in 2010 and sheila is 52 then, so she did start growing up in the 60s!! she was a "tomboy" who refused to grow her hair out or wear dresses because that was so aligned with dating boys and she simply did not want to do that. her abrasive personality combined with this attitude towards femininity made sheila pretty unpopular in her small alaska town and her family, so she took off shortly after finishing high school to hitchhike around juneau. she found a small gay scene there that made sheila realize she was not a "tomboy" but a butch lesbian and that she was damn proud of it. in order to make some money, she used her scant knowledge of carpentry from fixing furniture and putting in insulation with her dad to get some work on the docks as part of a boat repair crew. sheila took to the craft pretty quickly and could fix nearly anything after just a few years of working, as well as carve up some of her own pieces. while working in juneau, sheila met her future wife bea, who served as a crew member on chartered boat rides. the two of them fell in love and eventually decided that they were tired of the dock and city life in general, so they moved to haines where bea's family was originally from. sheila had saved up enough from taking on repair projects in juneau to buy a storefront in town, which she turned into her repair/restoration/furniture commission store carvings!! that store is her baby, honestly. neither sheila nor bea wanted kids: they liked one another's company and liked living on their own terms. that isn't to say they don't love children, which they both do, but sheila and bea value their time and freedom and prefer giving attention to each other and their work. and she absolutely Does post minion memes on facebook, the woman cannot get through the day without posting a crispy-ass image of a minion looking pissed next to big block text that's like "someone asked me a question before i had my coffee. they didn't like the answer." she's unrepentant and loud and loves red wine and reality shows and facebook groups and adores jesse even if she is constantly telling him what he should or shouldn't do and giving her input where it was not requested. honestly jesse had some good role models on brba but i truly think having sheila there could have fixed him. she would at least have made him brush his hair.
#anonymous#ask#syd squeaks#this was such a wonderful ask omg :'') i dont bring up sheila a lot because i feel like people aren't interested in her#sheila burton#bea burton#jesse pinkman
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If someone was looking to submit a commission inquiry for an OC, are there any themes/topics/etc as part of the piece that would make it especially fun/interesting to do for you?
-Witchcraft, fairies/superstitions, and mortality are all topics I like a lot. Graveyards are a typical backdrop you'll see from me for a reason!
-Pretty much anything that conjures the mental image of Fall. Jack-o-Lanterns (whether pumpkins or turnips), apple picking, 'harvest' type imagery, etc
-Anything to do with animals of any kind- especially typical livestock animals like horses, sheep, goats, etc (tho particularly large animals might run the price up a bit depending on composition!).
-Queer subjects- I'm more than down to draw someone taking T, or someone wanting me to try to showcase a more vague theme of trans/gay beauty in some way. By extension one of my top favorite subjects is 'soft masculinity'- think 'men' in what is seen by binary society as feminine dress, or coated in florals and some such.
-Period themes. Some amount of fantasy blended in (steampunk or clockpunk as example?) are incredibly fun since I don't have to be hardcore about accuracy.
Though I focus on Victorian, I enjoy just about any period before the 1990's- Regency, 1920's, Renaissance, etc. I'm most familiar with Western period cultures but very willing to depict non-Western as long as I can track down appropriate references to make sure I'm depicting them with respect.
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where (& when) are Nancy and Robin?
One of the stills from yesterday shows Nancy and Robin, presumably in the midst of an investigation in S4 to Find Out What’s Really Going On:
I think many of us had a similar reaction: what are they wearing, and why?
Looking for the most objective details about the setting first, we can see:
1) They both have nametags saying “VISITOR,” so they appear to be visiting a person contained within this cell/locked area.
2) Nancy’s nametag says “Ruth,” while Robin’s is out of focus. My impression is that Robin’s says “Beth.”
3) Taking a closer look at Nancy’s nametag, we get a pretty good indication of where they are...
...“PENNHURST MENTAL HOSPITAL” is printed at the top.
Who do we know in a mental hospital?
Two other new characters--Peter Ballard and Warden Hatch--are reported to work at a psychiatric hospital, but Victor Creel is the only confirmed patient that we know of. Nancy and Robin seem to be in a cell, which seems to point to Victor being the reason for the visit.
Names and Clothes
According to US Social Security data (reported on https://www.ourbabynamer.com/), the name “Ruth” was given to the highest number of babies in 1920. It had been a very popular name for about 20-30 years at that point, after which it declined noticeably in popularity. It remained in the top 10 baby girl names until 1930.
The name “Elizabeth” (if the reading of “Beth” is correct from Robin’s nametag) was similarly popular for the same generation of American girls, ranking in the top 10 names from 1880 until 1924. Despite being a very traditional name, it fell out of the top 10 completely between 1926 and 1980.
At Nancy and Robin’s ages, then, it looks like they are using names that could reflect a time period of the mid-1940s.
Interesting--because so do some elements of their clothes.
As many of us have noticed, they don’t seem to be wearing their typical 1980s clothing. The stylistic departure from their previous choices on the show also points to the idea that Nancy and Robin have dressed differently than usual here for some purpose.
I’m no fashion history expert, but check out these items from a 1945 Sears catalogue:
(For context for non-Americans, Sears is an American company that was at its peak in the mid-20th century. Their target market was middle-class Americans, especially those in more rural areas due to their mail-in order service.)
We have:
- ruffled blouses and cardigans with vertical stitching similar to Robin’s
- puffed shoulder stitching on the sleeves like Nancy’s jacket
- Peter Pan collars like Nancy’s blouse
- skirts worn at a similar height on the waistline, with some examples of similar pleating.
And last but not least, Robin’s hair clip, which seems similar to the “patti-gays,” “nosegays,” and “gay hair bows” described on the last page. (A “nosegay” is a word for a small flower bouquet. Coincidence? I think not.)
While there are several similarities, it also doesn’t look like Nancy and Robin have walked straight out of the 1940s. Their hairstyles are no different. Also, the colors and fabrics of the clothing remind me more of the 1980s. There was a recurrence of some aspects of 1940s and 1950s clothing trends for women during the 1980s, which could possibly explain some of these differences (but IMO doesn’t fully explain their entire outfits). Overall, then, I get the impression that Robin and Nancy are attempting a 1940s style with what is available to them in the 1980s.
Tentative conclusions...
1) Nancy and Robin have taken pseudonyms in order to visit someone (likely Victor Creel) at Pennhurst Mental Institution.
2) Their clothing appears to reflect a period of time roughly 15 years before the Creel murders (mid-1940s), though the possibly including some 1980s-does-1940s pieces based on the pastel color scheme and the print of Robin’s skirt (though I’m no expert). This could indicate a more intentional approach on their part (i.e., closet-raiding and thrift-store shopping, as opposed to real time travel).
3) The names they have chosen (Ruth and Beth/Elizabeth) were popular names for women in their 20s during the mid-1940s, further suggesting that they could be attempting to appear like they are from an earlier period of Victor Creel’s life.
4) Based on estimated ages of Victor Creel’s children in 1959 (the year of the murders), ~15 years earlier could align with the time that Victor met or married his wife. (Are Ruth and Beth real people with a connection to Virginia Creel? Are they previous love interests? Siblings of either Virginia or Victor? If they are real people, are they still alive in 1986?)
5) We don’t know the full details on Victor Creel’s mental status. Are Nancy and Robin possibly attempting to learn more about Victor’s memories, and feel they will be more successful if they are in costume from the relevant period of his life (or are impersonating younger versions of people he knew then)? Is Victor too unstable or traumatized to have visitors that remind him of his family and any time afterwards?
Bottom line: Nancy and Robin are intentionally evoking an earlier time period on their visit to Pennhurst, though the full reasons why are yet to be determined.
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In the trend of remaking literally everything, how about remaking old rom-coms but making them gay? Featuring all queer actors?
Like When Harry Met Sally but with Janelle Monae as Sally and Kristen Stewart as Harry
Or How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days but with Tessa Thompson as Andie and Samira Wiley as Ben
Pretty Woman with Jodie Foster as Edward and Ruby Rose as Vivian
10 Things I Hate About You with Auli’i Cravalho as Kat and Brigette Lundy Paine as Patrick
27 Dresses with Jameela Jamil as Jane and Stephanie Beatriz as Kevin
Singing in the Rain with Lady Gaga as Don, Rebel Wilson as Cosmo and Raven Symone as Kathy
Pride and Prejudice with Natasha Negovanlis as Darcy and Elise Bauman as Elizabeth
Notting Hill with Hayley Kiyoko as Anna and Beanie Feldstein as William
Enchanted with Erica Luttrell as Giselle and Sara Ramirez as Robert
Ella Enchanted with Nicole Maines as Ella and Amandla Stenberg as Char
The Princess Bride with Evan Rachel Wood as Westley and Victoria Pedretti as Buttercup
You’ve Got Mail with Sarah Paulson as Joe and Cameron Esposito as Kathleen
Bridget Jones’s Diary with Aubrey Plaza as Mark and Dominique Provost-Chalkley as Bridget
Sense & Sensibility with Clea DuVall as Edward and Anna Paquin as Elinor
Also the soundtracks all feature a mix of King Princess, Hayley Kiyoko, Janelle Monae, dodie, girl in red, Mitski, Mary Lambert, Kesha, Kelhani, and any other wlw artist you can think of (except maybe in the period pieces. or you could do instrumental versions. who cares, this is all just for fun)
Part 2
#all the gay movies are about cheating or are super tragic#where are the cheesy love stories?#gay rom coms#recasting#lesbian#wlw#janelle monae#kristen stewart#tessa thompson#samira wiley#hayley kiyoko#nicole maines#amandla stenberg#beanie feldstein#Elise Bauman#Natasha Negovanlis#stephanie beatriz#Brigette Lundy Paine#auli'i cravalho#jameela jamil#ruby rose#evan rachel wood#sara ramirez#lady gaga#raven symone#my post#dominique provost chalkley#victoria pedretti#audrey plaza#sarah paulson
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i get being upset about the shenanigans redemption pulled with the ot3 and i am upset too, and i get that it’s a weird inconsistent thing for eliot to do unless he’s finally experiencing post concussion syndrome and his brain can’t compute that parker and hardison actually want him all the time, and i do get being mad about it but also
like
yall. it is still scandalous to see queer representation in a lot of media, period, because being gay is too unbelievable or too adult or too distracting or too present and you don’t want to alienate your viewers (yes i am talking about supernatural. and star wars. and marvel. and disney.)
and i honestly could not tell you a piece of media that incorporated polyamory in a positive way that isn’t sense8. i think there was a show about sirens that might have had polyamory in it? oh, wait, professor marsten and the wonder women, that had polyamory in it. and say yes to the dress had a polycule in an episode this season and i was fucking floored that they had them on!! because i could not remember a time when polyamory was shown in a way that was “these people are normal, doing normal people things” and not “these people are scandalous and taboo and it’s all about sex and obviously this is unhealthy and unnatural and balanced normal people wouldn’t want this ever” on tv!! the first time i ever learned about polyamory was on a show literally called taboo!! is there polyamory representation that i’m missing somewhere? this is a very real possibility but as far as i’m aware polyam visibility happens so infrequently that the bar for polyamorus rep on tv or in movies is so low that it doesn’t even exist.
but i digress. the point i’m getting at is that people do watch the show and manage to not get (or deliberately ignore) the ot3 because of their beliefs, experiences, etc etc. and leverage redemption was probably sold to amazon as “a reboot of a beloved heist show”, not “polyamorous thieves make the world a better place by eating the rich”. maybe i lack imagination, but i literally cannot fathom a world where amazon, fucking amazon, would go “we want to throw our whole weight behind this ~*unconventional*~ relationship. totally go with it”.it’s. it’s fucking amazon. sometimes even now i sit with that for a minute, that jeff bezos’ company is financing a show that the entire premise is “fuck billionaires”. the fact that amazon greenlit this is unreal.
and for people who miss or ignore the ot3--the show gave us an entire subplot that was “this romantic interest for eliot is incredibly well suited for him, is kind but also badass, they’re like a better version of mr and mrs smith” and also said “this person, who is ostensibly perfect for eliot, is someone he can never truly be himself with” and then went on to have eliot describe his ideal partner while next to parker and hardison, who fit eliot’s criteria, and are smiling knowingly at him before assuring him that they will be with him forever--and not just in a passive way. they are actively planning for a future with him.
there must be some people who watched redemption without watching leverage first. for them, eliot and maria’s relationship was like a leverage original speedrun: eliot is happiest with parker and hardison, who are equally happy around him, and they all want to hang around each other for basically the rest of their lives.
honestly, that’s pretty fucking crafty.
#leverage#leverage redemption#maybe i just have a very low bar for representation#'shown as being human' is a low bar yes i understand but when it feels like everything is tripping of the bar#anything that makes it over is fine#i don't know if it's a generational thing or a regional thing#but as much as i was like 'i hope the ot3 is super apparent' i never actually thought there was a chance of that#and i'm all for demanding representation#but also...the idea that a production would actually listen is. what. that's insane. they aren't going to do that. not amazon!#'polyamorous people are just people and they aren't sick or weird or dangerous' is a low bar yes i get that#but it's a hell of a lot better than 'people who are like that should die' and i'll take it#right now i will take it okay?#i have more thoughts but i'm just going to stop#i am a huge proponent of visibility being important and the need for representation but also most media Does Not Care#it just wants money#maybe i'm just old
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I demand to see Lashana Lynch in more period pieces where she gets to wear a pretty dress. Specifically a gay one.
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martin del rosario & he/they/any / demi-man ‷ watch out , bryce sirilan has crash-landed into roswell !! they look 32 years old and celebrate their birthday on january 20. they are from bacolod, philippines, reside in tripp’s trailer park and are currently working as bartender @ wild pony. one thing you should know about them is they dress up in drag sometimes at planet 7 (for fun, not work). ‷ ( thia, she/her/they, 20, gmt )
HEY besties i’ve got another muse and i love them very much. info under the cut ( tw for discussions of homophobia and general lgbtphobia )
BASICS
full name: bryce sirilan
age: 32
birth date: january 20, 1990
ethnicity: mostly filipino (hiligaynon and bicolano), some amount of white heritage
sexuality: big bisexual... w/ a leaning towards women / fem ppl
relationship status: single
languages spoken: hiligaynon (native), tagalog (fluent), english (fluent), bicolano (basic bc his mom never taught him properly)
pronouns: he/they (but they don’t mind other pronouns like she unless ur being a piece of shit and using them to mock him lmao)
bryce is the oldest sibling and would’ve been the golden child. he was smart and reliable and shit. the problem for his family? bryce was sure that they were Not Cishet from a very young age. probably since kindergarten. they did not like that
speaking as a queer filipino, i know that filipinos tend to treat sexuality and gender as interchangeable. if you’re amab (assigned male at birth) and turn out queer in any way (though honestly i’ve seen this concept be applied to effeminate cishet men too), you’re assumed to be a Gay Man.
and there’s nothing wrong with being a gay man ofc. bryce embraced it tbh, it was their first label. they also fit the usual filipino of a camp gay dude.
i mean, when he decided to change his birth name he considered “carey” bc mariah carey and he’s pretty sure he subconsciously ended up using bryce bc it was a subtle nod to britney spears. (bryce siralan does sound a bit like britney spears, doesn’t it?)
but that wasn’t who bryce was. he’d learn that later.
he abandoned his immediate family to follow his supportive aunt to the usa when he was 13ish? so yeah, he grew up here in roswell.
when he was in his late teens maybe, he met ppl who taught him that sexuality and gender are separate. if you ARE a gay man ofc and you’re campy and everything, there’s nothing wrong w/ that! but your gender expression doesn’t inherently determine your sexuality, he learned. and there’s a whole spectrum of lgbtq+ identities
in that period of time, they thought about it and realized that they were nonbinary and bi.
anyway, they could’ve pursued a hotshot career bc they’re brainy but they don’t want that life.
they grumble about their annoying, mundane job at wild pony sure but lowkey they’re very grateful for it!!! yeah sure it’s boring and stressful but it’s part of the charm for him. just being able to live a normal life is good enough for him
they have enough money to leave tripp’s trailer park rn and fend for himself (and just himself, realistically) but doesn’t want to abandon their aunt & cousins.
yeah he likes to dress up in drag and yes his fc has gifs in drag so tune in
he’s honestly more into women but is much more insecure about pursuing them romantically. for reasons he thinks are obvious -- society doesn’t rly expect a (demi-)guy who can walk perfectly in 6-inch heels to be into women at all.
they’d like to explore their attraction to women more, though. they’re attracted to men/masc-presenting ppl too though! and androgynous peeps.
on that 6-inch heels note: bryce is 6′0″, which is tall but not terrifyingly so. in heels he can be as tall as 6′6″ and seeing ppl get intimidated/startled by it makes him happy njansdjasdjn he’s a troll sometimes srry
“certified Best Kisser and thats why i dated him” --testimony from thee @nfldunn himself KDMSKNDJN
dating gunner in high school kinda left them with abandonment issues rip </3
anyway that’s all for now! pls do plot with us!
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Elizbeth Debicki - Reunion Revenge
A/N - I love Elizabeth with everything I am, I'm sure I've said this before. I don't know why there aren't more fics about her. As always, I do not know Elizabeth, nor do I claim to: this is a work of fiction and wholly my own. I mean no disrespect to any of the careers mentioned at some point in this, just bear with. This is a set at a high school reunion, but I went to a private secondary school in England, so my experience is obviously not everyone else's. Reader has a twin brother, have fun with that. I also based this on a Tumblr post I saw, and thought that would be a swell concept to work into a Liz piece of writing: ‘never understood the whole showing up at your high school reunion revenge fantasy cause, like, really? high school?? I don’t want anyone from that time in my life to have any idea where I am or what I’m doing. do not perceive me I am dead to you and you are dead to me.' 8k.
Warnings - a little angsty, mentions of bullying, smoking, mentions of homophobia and slurs, wlw explicit smut, fingering, sex toys (strap-on), bathroom wall sex in a semi-public place, the whole shebang (literally). 18+
Summary - At first, when your brother roped you into attending your high school reunion with your wife, you hated the idea. Now, all eyes are on you, all the focus on your career, and maybe this is the revenge you always needed, of course aided by Liz's quick thinking and hidden surprises.
AT THIS CURRENT POINT IN TIME, you would more than happily murder your brother for roping you into this. And for convincing Liz to come along, which is somehow worse than your own enforced attendance, as though your presence will make any difference to the people who made the seven ‘best’ years of your life a pure living hell.
Your brother did have your back through it all, and considering that he was supposed to be the best one to succeed, he needs you there for some moral support after his career took an unfortunate nosedive that everyone is undoubtedly going to be gawking over.
You never understood the whole ‘showing up at your secondary school reunion revenge fantasy,’ but that’s mostly just because they don’t deserve to know who you are anymore. They broke you continually, and you’re past it now: the only thing that could take you back to that mindset is being back in that great hall with the gossiping busybodies. It’s not your fault that you were a closeted gay for so many years. Well, that’s another cause of concern. Notorious homophobes, and you’re bringing your wife.
“Come on, honey, we have to go inside.” Liz tells you, her long fingers curling around yours affectionately.
She has a point. You’ve been in the car park for ten minutes now, your knuckles turning white on the steering wheel. Her continual lavishes of kisses to your neck seem to be the only redeeming factor of your procrastination.
“Hmm, kiss me first.” you say.
She doesn’t disappoint, curling your hair behind your ear—wearing special diamond earrings she got you on your second anniversary—and catches your chin tenderly between her polished forefinger and thumb, tilting your face up to meet hers, her lips slanting over yours, melding together perfectly.
She’s the only good thing about this situation, about any situation: the only reason your brother was able to bribe you to come. Your main qualm about today is that you don’t want anyone from that period of your life to have any idea where you are or what you’re doing. You’ve been dead to them for years, and they to you. You don’t want them to perceive you whatsoever. But maybe, with Elizabeth on your arm and a brilliant career under your belt—everything you ever wanted—you can reap revenge. No one is in touch with you, so your arrival will be such a surprise, not that you exactly care about that, having blocked out and repressed a whole lot of that time period. You wouldn’t be able to even do this without Elizabeth, though.
“Liz,” you moan when she nibbles on your lower lip in that signature way she does. “We can stay here, we don’t have to go in.”
You shift your hand over the centre console to rub over her clothed thigh, your grip more than a little suggestive, prying further up…
“No baby,” she coos, “later, I promise. We’ll be late.”
You grumble, but only momentarily. She has a point, and a thing about being on time to everything. So you load out of the car, Liz coming around to the drivers side where she offers you her hand. She’s more chivalrous than any guy you ever pretended to date, an absolute gem of a person. You don’t even get jittery on the short walk inside, not with her thumb caressing your hand, your legs brushing together.
You can’t say you’re surprised when, at first, no one even turns to look at you, though relief floods your system, Liz bending down to kiss your forehead in a conciliatory manner.
“Oh my God, y/n, I’ve been here twenty minutes! Why didn’t you pick up?”
“I was busy,” you say to your overzealous brother who is suddenly hounding you, attaching to your side.
He bristles, visibly shaking off his discomfort, before he’s linking his arm through yours and is tugging you along, out from beneath the wooden balcony, tugging you away from the shadows.
The hall is the exact same as it was both when you came and left the school, oak panelling everywhere, great glass windows stretching to the ceiling with sills too high for anyone to climb onto, a stained glass shrine above the stage. Put-me-up tables are littered around, sheathed with white cloths and ribbons with your school emblem on them, decorated with drink dispensers, mugs, wine glasses and cheap biscuits. The whole… scene brings back that awful sense of dread you got when forced to sit here, in tacky red woollen chairs, frayed and bobbled, that itched your legs, every Monday and Friday for assembly. It’s a beautiful room, truly, with a reinforced floor beneath the original boards, slightly splintering beneath your low heels, and you know every nook and cranny, every escape route, but the bad memories tarnish the space.
Liz, darling as she is, senses your discomfort, and creates small talk with your brother as you’re steered between groups of people you scarcely recognise until you reach the apex of the room, where his old friends stand, hunched over in ill-fitting suits, brooding over their brandy, no doubt complaining about their dead end jobs and lack of girlfriends.
“Hey buddy…” one of them says, trailing off once he hears a woman's voice, his eyes darting up—first to Elizabeth, then down to you. “Your sister and your girlfriend? Dude, she’s hot.”
“Isn’t she just?” Liz teases, a malicious smirk creeping onto her lips.
You haven’t even noticed, but some subconscious part of you has tucked your joined hands behind you, covered by Liz’s long, flowing dress.
“How you doing, wait, I know, don’t tell me…”
“y/n.” you snap. “Fine, thanks.”
“Well that’s good, good, isn’t it? I was just gonna call you mini y/l/n—”
“Don’t, that isn’t my name anymore.”
His eyes dart down to your left hand not held by Elizabeth’s slender fingers, instantly noting the glistening silver princess-cut ring nestled above a platinum wedding band.
“Married? Nice. No wonder the guy didn’t come,” another one chimes. You’re not entirely sure what he means, though it’s undoubtedly a dig at the fact Elizabeth is far hotter than you are.
Your brother is slowly growing angrier and angrier, the cords of thick muscle in his shoulders tensing, his nostrils flaring, his thinned eyes conversing with Elizabeth’s blues over the top of your ducked head.
“Yes, well,” you play along, and desperately look to your brother to continue the conversation.
“What are you all doing for work now?”
Everyone gives a boring answer: salesman, accountant, finishing up law school, working in an office, with one trainee chef in the mix. These men have all just done what the school or their parents expected and wanted them to do, no one has any ambition. No wonder you were always the odd one out.
“What about you?” the chef asks your brother.
“Oh, I’m on a sabbatical at the moment,” he replies sheepishly, eyes suddenly training on the floor before turning quickly, fixing on you. “My sister’s done really well for herself.”
Their surprise is palpable, seeping off them, dripping onto the floor via the loose threads of their cheap blazers.
“Yeah, I’m a translator for political and legal proceedings, you know, with cabinet ministers from all over the world, those who speak the languages I do, at least.” you answer pridefully. Your talents always were overlooked when you were at school, apart from by one special teacher, whom you haven’t actually seen yet.
“She’s marvellous, really,” Liz says, and you can’t help but feel a hint of guilt from neglecting her for so long, so you squeeze her hand a little tighter, and rub your thumb over her wedding ring. “I’m gonna get us some drinks, babe. What do you want?”
“Red wine would be lovely. Unless you want me to drive home?”
She pecks your lips, “Of course not, enjoy yourself. You want anything, mate?” she turns to your brother.
“I’m good, thanks.” He mock-salutes.
“Don’t be long,” you warn her, swinging your hands out from their cover with a sudden flush of courage, and detaching them.
She looks down at you curiously, but her smile quirks into a smirk the second you pinch her hip and lean up on your tiptoes, capturing her pretty pink lips with yours, swallowing the small surprised gasp that escapes her. You can feel eyes on you all over the room, the situation genuinely feeling as though everyone besides your brother is staring upon you with disgust as her lithe arms wrap around your body, her one hand straying lower than you were prepared for, arching into her chest as she nibbles your lip again, your one hand cupping her flushing cheek.
A moment later, she’s releasing her hold and strutting away, all eyes then glued to the sensual sway of her hips, her long legs carrying her across the room faster than they thought possible. Then again, being 6-foot-3 as a beautiful woman is quite the surprise to people, they all expect her to be garish, uncoordinated, and though she’s clumsy at times, she’s certainly better at general levels of human functionality than you are.
“Dude, stop staring at my wife’s ass.” you hiss to the first man. If only they were worth your bother or time, you might have remembered their dreary names.
He splutters for a moment, bringing a ring-less left hand up to loosen his lilac tie. “Wife? What the fuck? How are you married to a woman before we are!”
What a mystery.
“You gay or something?” the trainee lawyer chimes in again.
“You got a problem with that?” your brother accuses, puffing up his chest pompously.
“Well, no… just surprised.”
“Astonished.” another pipes up.
“Isn’t that a big word.”
You showed the tell tale signs of being a lesbian for years, the popular girls all pretended you were preying on them in the changing room, calling you a d*ke for years until you reached the point of just changing in the bathroom to stop yourself from snapping at them. They must’ve always had a hunch, and why ever they thought Liz was your brother's girlfriend is beyond you. Men truly are more trouble than they’re worth.
“Yes, I’m gay. Yes, Elizabeth is my wife. I didn’t realise this would be earth shattering information.” You cast your eyes up to the ceiling, erected like a great old Church steeple, and shutter them for a moment, gathering your bearings. “I’m going to find Liz, little man. Told you I shouldn't have come.”
“Don’t call me little man!”
“I’m ten minutes older than you, I’ll call you what I like.” you tease, sticking your tongue out childishly, receiving a sarcastic sneer from your brother. Right now, all you want is Liz. “I wish I could say it was nice to see you all again, but then we’d all be liars. Goodbye.”
They gawk in a greatly uncouth and infantile manner as you stride away, pep in your step as you approach your stunning wife, wrapping your arm around her stomach as she waits for her tea—English Breakfast, naturally—to cool down.
“Hey beautiful,” you greet.
“Hey, you. What happened?” she asks, instantly noting the sallow bags that have swiftly formed beneath your eyes.
“They were being arseholes, c’mon, let’s just stand in the corner until it’s socially acceptable to leave this hellhole.”
“We can go now if you’re uncomfortable, baby.”
Ever the forward, sympathetically thinking wife.
“No, no. I came here, I’d better make it worth my while.”
She tangles her fingers with yours, “Okay darling. Say the word, we leave.”
There aren’t words for how safe you feel thanks to Elizabeth, even just with this fractional amount of contact from her. She’s the answer to all your prayers and more, the thing in life you'll never deserve. Her love for you is endless, her affections infinite, and every day, you fall more and more in love with her, especially when she’s as kind as she is now.
It barely takes five minutes, the two of you hugging, kissing, leaning against a broad oak pillar, half shadowed, for someone to approach. One of the girls you despised, costume jewellery on her wrists, a self aggrandised smirk painted onto her fake lips. Martha? Mabel? Maddie?
“I heard you were here,” she starts, placing her tackily manicured hand onto her hip, “it’s so good to see you! How are you?”
“Great, thanks.” you say blandly, keeping your attention on Elizabeth’s hand entwined with yours.
“This is your… friend? Why did you bring a friend to this?”
She laughs mirthlessly, such a fake sound—like this cow's boobs—it makes your primal instincts flare. Elizabeth holds you impossibly closer, her arm around your waist tightening as you seek solace in her.
“y/n and I are married, thank you. I don’t appreciate the homophobic, disrespectful insinuations.”
She stifles another laugh, “You’re punching above your weight a bit aren’t you, y/n.”
“Don’t rise to it,” Liz headily murmurs in your ear, sending pleasant, calming vibrations throughout your whole body.
You gulp down as much air as you can, curling tighter into Liz, before saying what you thought all those years ago, “I’d rather be ‘punching’ and married to a woman I love rather than be a Goddamn trophy wife going nowhere, leeching off daddy’s money. People like you will never change. I’m happy, and I have a good feeling that’s more than the likes of you and your sad old minions can say.”
“Sweetheart, come on.” Liz whispers, and her hold on you increases until it begins to pinch, not that you mind, and then she’s thankfully tugging you away.
You barely make it out the door, Liz leaning down to kiss you heartily, passionately, before people are clamouring over you, what’s-her-faces friends, people you used to be in fair acquaintance with, all speaking together, their voices overlapping in what you can only believe to be expressions of acceptance.
“Um, thank you, I’ll just be back in a moment.” you say to those who bother to listen. Next thing, you’re darting out the way you came, tugging Liz down the great stone steps in front of the behemoth building, and then are leaning against the old wall, almost crumbling with rubble on the exterior at least, not as well preserved as the inside.
She joins you not a moment later, ferreting around the pockets in her skirt for the spare cigarette and lighter she slipped in earlier. Liz doesn’t condone your smoking in any way whatsoever, and in fact she’s the main reason that you quit, but she knows that when your anxiety is high during times like these, one can’t hurt. She always comes prepared.
She is definitely the most consistent, reliable thing in your life by a long shot. Naturally, you two have your fair share of ups and downs, and on the occasion you get your periods at the same time, you’re a complete dichotomy of furious fights and condoling cuddles, while the rest of the time you find yourselves in sheer throes of passion. You may be a dependable couple bound to stay together forever, but that doesn’t mean that the flame of lust once born there has even momentarily flickered: it’s why you work so well. Men are awful in bed, from both of your experiences. Only a woman truly knows how to please another woman. And in the many ways that Liz is a home-body and sticks to the safe side of things, sex is not one of those areas, and you frequently wind up in another one of her barmy—though blissfully pleasurable—experiments. Her daring never goes amiss, and you can’t help but pray that she has something up her sleeve (besides the cigarette) to dull the ache of the day, and also the growing desire pooling between your legs upon seeing have such a naturally demanding power, and looking so Goddamn stunning in her maxi dress. And the lip nibble, God—
“Before you ask, I’m not shagging you out here.” she says, lighting your cigarette with steady hands.
You inhale the smoke, allowing it to form dark halos around your head once you puff it out through pursed lips, hoping it obscures your sheepish smile and averted eyes from Liz’s view.
“I wasn't thinking about that.”
“Yes you were. You forget how well I know you.”
You shoot her a sardonic smile and take another deep drag, the bitter taste pouring into your senses, filling your lungs, calming your mind before you let it go with one long, shaky breath. The smoke has a way of revealing the air, making an artistry of its swirls and flow, something you’ve always been able to appreciate. Ever the wise one, Liz just sees the poison it’s creating within your body, and will do anything to make you stop.
The sick, intrusive thought that you might be disappointing her by this simple act alone rises a cough to your throat with the next puff, but in reality she looks so nonchalant, her eyes closed, a simple smile playing on her perfect lips as she revels in the moment, in your presence, her pinky finger looped just over yours against the crumbling brick wall. Nonetheless, the uneasiness is enough for you to stub the cigarette out under your shoe before it’s even half-way smoked.
“Baby, you okay?” she asks sympathetically, turning to face you so that her shoulder is pressed to the wall, her spare arm flying around to brush against your upper arm, thumb caressing the flesh there through your clothes.
“Yeah, course. Can we stay out here a bit, though?”
You expect her to wholeheartedly agree, because you could tell by the subtle sensing of her limber body and the sudden snap attitude she had that she was just as uncomfortable in there as you were, perhaps more so. Her reflexes may as well be yours with how used you are to them. That’s exactly how you know that she’s going to refuse your request by the almost imperceptible crest of her nails into your supple skin.
“Your brother texted, he asked you to come back in: people won’t stop badgering him about you.” She pauses, but upon hearing you huff, hurriedly leaps back in. “I mean of course we don’t have to if you’re not comfortable, this is about you, not your brother…”
But it is about your brother. You agreed to come here today to be of help to him. And besides, Elizabeth has almost as much loyalty to your brother as she does to you, the two of them having been friends before he introduced you to her. That certainly didn’t have the outcome he was expecting, but you’ve all remained close nonetheless. Mentally, you give yourself a shakedown. How could you be so selfish? Today isn’t about you, not really. Sure you’d like to make peace with your past and your old tormentors one last time before leaving and never seeing them again, but the main reason is support.
“No, you’re right,” you say after a long moment of lamentation.
“That’s a first,” Liz snorts.
You smack her playfully, “Watch it, you.”
“Hey, who’s the pillow princess around here?”
Your cheeks instantly flush. “That was one time.”
“More like five,” she umms and ahhs, but grasps your hand a little tighter regardless.
It’s a fair comment on her part: Liz does wield the majority of the power in the relationship, and is definitely more of a top that you are, but you ensure that you pleasure her just as much as she does you, it’s only fair. Apart from those few times you decided to try something new… you got tired of that pretty quickly, though, since you couldn’t go too long without tasting her while you were in bed. No matter how many times you’ve had sex, no matter how many mind-blowing orgasms you receive, your desire for her is never quite quelled. Frankly, you hope it never is.
“Stop thinking about fucking me, babe,” she scolds, and pulls you up fully standing from your temporary reprieve against the wall. “Later, I promise. Not here.”
Embarrassment heats your cheeks at the fact she so easily deciphers your filthy thoughts, but then again, she always has. She leads you back inside, and all but hands you over to your brother, practically jumping with impatience at the door to the hall.
“Thank God you’re b—” he cuts himself off, moving closer to you, imperiously sniffing your clothes. “Did you smoke again?” You nod. “Fucking hell, well, there’s another conversation topic, we’ll talk about this later. Can you believe this lot didn’t know you were gay? What morons…”
“Hey, I’m not that obviously gay, am I?”
The dead silence that envelops you gives you the answer you weren’t too keen on receiving in the first place.
“But!” Liz helpfully adds in her most cheery tone. “If you hadn’t been so obviously gay, I probably never would’ve asked you out.”
She beams even as you roll our eyes, “So endearing, babe.”
“Hurry up, this lot are arseholes.”
“I know.” you deadpan. He sends you a snarky smile.
Following him through the small clans of people meandering and congregating amongst themselves, all with some sort of beverage in their hands, you feel your hand grow clammy in Liz’s. Your mind doesn’t get the chance to run away with itself or whirr on for too long, though, before you’re pulled into a group of people—all three of you—and are all welcomed with enthused hugs and professions of well wishes.
“Oh how are you? You look so well, I hope you’ve been doing good!”
Well, you think, if they cared enough they’d have contacted you. Half of them are your brothers Facebook friends and he’s often posting pictures of you hanging out, or childhood throwbacks, and tagging you in them in plain view. Thankfully, your page is private, and Elizabeth doesn’t even have social media. She’s smart.
You engage in conversation—well, they do, you just listen and hum when you’re supposed to, making surprised faces at the right parts—about one classmate who couldn’t be here because she married a mobster and isn’t allowed to discuss her lifestyle. She isn't. She got pregnant straight out of school and is going through her second divorce: your brother saw her recently. Who are you to deny them gossip when you really couldn’t care less?
In minutes they seem to have exhausted all possible fascinating subject matters, or at least make it appear that way as they turn all eyes on you.
“So, y/n, we hear you have a girlfriend!”
Not again.
“Wife; this is Liz.”
“How are you.” she says, more by way of greeting than having any regard for them.
“Oh my God,” one woman clamours, “are you Australian? My boyfriend is Australian! Maybe you know him?”
Liz’s face breaks into a wide smile, the first one of the event. Who cares that it’s at the expense of another person's intelligence, or lack thereof? You and your brother struggle to stifle your own laughter as you loll your head against his broad shoulder, too.
“Australia is more than seven and a half million square kilometres. In context, the UK is only two-forty-two thousand. We have a population of 25 million. I’d be more likely to meet the queen and the president.” she quips. Ever the fount of useless knowledge; as are you both.
“Oh,” says the woman, casting a sheepish gaze away.
“But, um, yeah, I am Australian.”
“You’re tall,” another blatantly observes, “you look Dutch.”
“Polish-Irish. Not far off.” she says again, fixing a smile of nonchalance.
People turn to you for something to say. You have nothing: nothing to say to these awful sycophants, so you’re half relieved and half angered further when your name is called from somewhere behind you.
“y/n y/l/n!”
Great, another bellend. Star of the football team. You settle yourself after a sudden wave of dizziness from spinning on your heel to see just who was calling you, and you’re not particularly surprised, but not glad either, when he’s excited to join the dull circle.
“Actually,” you correct, “it’s y/n Debicki.”
Silence cools around the circle. What, have these people been living under rocks for the past God knows how many years?
“Oh, why?” he asks.
“I got married and took my wife’s name.” you grit out just barely, balancing from foot to foot, the wooden floor creaking around you. Some more wine would be really good right about now, but instead you just settle for an intoxicating peck from Liz’s lips, the chiffon of her skirt shifting again to reveal your held hands and glistening wedding rings.
“Oh!”
The silence is agony. Why can’t the ground just swallow you up already? Your brother's getting angry, his fist clenching, picking at his nails, while everyone else in the group is exchanging anxious eye contact. Liz and her insanely long legs could probably give you a leg-up to one of the immensely tall windows as a quicker, though slightly more problematic escape route…
“By the way, that’s totally fine.”
“Yeah,” someone adds, you can’t be bothered to look who. “We totally accept it.”
“It’s like you’re not even gay, but straight, and normal. N—not that being gay isn’t normal, just that we don’t see you any differently.”
“You’re the same y/n you always were.” one smiles at last.
Your brother is going to lose it in three… two… one…
“Oh yeah? The y/n that you all relentlessly picked on and victimised for years? The same y/n who was forced to hide her identity and everything she wanted to be for years just because you back-thinking bastards didn’t want a lesbian in the class?” he shouts, flailing his arms madly about, hissing one of the broad, tree trunk pillars in the process. He doesn’t flinch. Turning to you, he starts in a softer voice, “I never should’ve asked you to come here, I’m so sorry y/n, I was so selfish to bring you back to this hellhole. It’s no wonder you didn’t want to come with these dipshits tossing around! And Liz, you don’t deserve this either. Please, do us all a favour, and take y/n home, never bringing her back here. You were right all these years, sweet, it’s the place nightmares are born. And you scummy lot should all be ashamed of yourselves!”
His breath is ragged once he’s done with his rant, his forehead glistening with sweat, his knuckles white with tension.
“Liz, could you get him some water, please?” you whisper into her ear.
She nods affirmatively, and breaks from your grasp, steering your hunched, tense, seething brother in the direction of the drinks table.
“Thanks, I guess,” you begin, kicking your heels into the splintering oak floor, your wine long forgotten, “like, for the acceptance and stuff. But I’ve always been this way, he’s right. It’s not some earth shattering revelation, I was just too shy to come out because you all tossed slurs around like it was okay.” You take a deep breath, and in that time, Liz has returned and stuck herself to your side, your brother happily alone in the corner with a cold glass of water as you cast a glance over your shoulder. You comb your fingers through Elizabeth’s coiffed blonde hair to relieve some anxiety, and are further reassured when she presses her lips to your earlobe, glistening with the diamonds she gifted you. “Besides, this shouldn’t be a thing you have to zealously profess to accept, it should be just as normal as one of you walking in with your heterosexual partner.” As some of them have done, and no one’s batted an eyelid.
A din of agreement sounds out from them, but you know they’re all more than a little meek after being scolded like schoolchildren by your big scary brother. He’s a teddy bear, really, but when he flips, he flips.
When you arise no cohesive response from anyone, you rest your head on Liz’s shoulder, and ask, “Did you see that article on the BBC yesterday morning?”
You have no idea what article you’re on about, but one leaps in with something about climate change, and one about a rise in violent crime in the area. Thank God you don’t live there anymore.
“I forgot about that one!” you gasp with feigned surprise.
Liz looks down on you warmly, chuckling at the mischievous glint in your eye. She knows exactly what you’re up to. But after today, you can walk away from this place, despite the stunning old architecture of the gorgeous building, the beautiful panelling on the walls and the window you spent so many hours gazing at while daydreaming wistfully through assemblies and exams, never to return. Frankly, after this shit show, you’d have it no other way. The teachers will be arriving soon, and in the hopes you see your favourite old teacher, Mrs Alleman, you decide it can’t hurt just to stick around a little bit longer, even if you don’t listen to anyone's conversation. It’s not like they want to involve you.
*
Before you know it, ten dreary minutes have passed, and as each second slips by, you’re losing the will to live. Even these people are bored to death by the sound of their own voices, unsurprisingly. You’ve just busied yourself the whole time by playing with Liz’s long, slender fingers and her glistening silver ring. She’s becoming more and more antsy, though, so you’re unsurprised when she moves to stand away, speaking only when there’s a brief intermission of silence.
“I’m heading to the loo, honey. Which way is it?” she asks politely.
“Out the door we came, but on the other side of the corridor is a closed door, down that corridor it’s the fourth on the right, up a couple of stairs.”
Her eyes widen, “This place is a maze.”
“I know,” you chuckle, and lean up to peck her lips. “They’re the staff ones, down a cohorted route in a forbidden corridor so we wouldn’t use them.”
“You,” she shakes her head, bending down to kiss you again from her standing position, though she does practically double down, and has to press a hand to her chest to prevent her dress from falling, “are so randomly knowledgeable.” It’s really more of an awkward stowed away memory, but you take it anyway. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
As she draws away, she catches your lip in her teeth. Again. If it wouldn’t arouse suspicion, you’d be after her like a bullet, but, well… So you just sit there, counting the minutes, the seconds until she returns and you’re able to make a quick exit, barely making an agreeable sound or two when someone deigns to involve you in the deathly boring conversation they’re having about the FTSE or something, but she doesn’t return. It’s only after five minutes—you meticulously checked your watch—that you realise she’s probably gotten lost, your heart fluttering into your throat.
“I think Liz is lost, I’m gonna go find her,” you say, not that anyone exactly notes your absence or offers you as much as a nod, so you stand and stroll away, not caring about your knocked over glass as you stalk out of the great hall, breaking into a slight jog as soon as the doors are closed behind you.
You could swear you catch your brother winking across the room as they close, but you can’t be sure, not with how crazy you are after Liz did that thing she does every single time she instigates sex. You’ve been together for more than four marvellous years, and yet it still brings fire into your veins, butterflies into your stomach, and lust into your mind.
She’s not in the foyer, or down the ostentatious portrait corridor, so you burst into the pristine white and purple bathroom, only to find Liz leant against the wall, a slight bulge in her dress.
“God, I was wondering if you’d ever get the message, I’ve been waiting for ages.” she huffs, slamming her mouth onto yours impatiently.
You gasp, winding your arms around her neck, not complaining in the slightest when you hear the door lock and you’re lifted high against the wall. Your hand flies down on instinct, and you’re not disappointed when your hand wraps around something long, hard and thick.
The squeak of surprise that leaves your lips only spurs Liz on more. “You wore the strap.”
“I went and fetched it from the car, thought we could have some fun, make this worth your while.”
“I love you so much.” you breathe, no time for courtesy.
Crashing your lips down onto hers, you lick filthily into her mouth, your tongue skimming her teeth, but your control barely lasts a moment before she’s overpowering you, nipping at your lip as she busies herself otherwise with gaining access to your throbbing, drenched core.
“Liz…” you moan. When she skims her fingers over the lace edge of your panties.
“So wet already baby,” she taunts, her breath hot on your ear, “have I done all this? Such a dirty girl…”
Her voice holds a gravelly quality, down to lust you’d wager. Her accent becomes so much more pronounced during times of passion, too. Her voice alone sends another wave of wetness gushing through you, soaking Liz’s fingertips as she slides them under your panties and into your folds.
“Oh poor helpless baby,” she croons, biting down on your neck harshly. “I don’t even need to use lube today, do I?”
You can’t respond, can’t even try to. She’s so intoxicating you could cry. All that’d come out is senseless babble. You can barely muster a breath with her gaze of such intensity burning into your fucked-out face. In all fairness, she doesn’t usually have to, since she makes you gush with a single glance, but the sensual jibe does make you a little embarrassed.
You can’t think straight when she plunges a single, long digit deep within your velvety walls, stroking at a torturous pace.
“F— fuck, faster, please.” you stammer.
“Only because my baby asked so nicely.”
Her hand begins to move faster against you, the rustle of clothes nothing compared to the sounds of your wetness. She adds another digit daringly, and pumps within you faster, her technique impeccable. If she’s not careful, you’ll be falling apart around her fingers in little more than a moment. Over the years she’s learnt how to bring you to mind-shattering climax embarrassingly quickly.
“Lizzie…” you moan when she hits that special spongy spot that makes you see stars behind your eyes.
Quick thinking as ever, she clamps one elegant hand over your mouth, her pale fingers digging into your cheeks, the metal of her rings cool against your lips. You can’t help yourself, your tongue darting out to lick the band of her wedding ring, skilfully wrapping your wet muscle around her. She can never resist when you do that, and her own knees begin to buckle, but her pace speeds up.
“Baby, I’m close,” you hiss against her hand, words muffled.
Your shoulder presses painfully into a ridge of the wall, but you can’t care, not when her wrist is flicking so quickly, yet somehow each thrust is deeper and more pleasurable than the last, the pads of her fingers catching all the right places within our quivering walls, continually hitting that spot. The heel of her palm keeps hitting your clit with a voracious intensity, needing to bring you toppling over the edge.
You come unravelled with a cry of her name, your legs unable to even partially hold yourself up as she settles you down gently on the floor, forcing you to lean heavily against the countertop. Stars and fireworks erupt to create images of Liz behind your eyelids, in the front of your brain. And the noise you made… After that, you wouldn’t be surprised if everyone in the hall knows what you’re up to, and somehow, that only fuels your need for Liz further.
“How do you get hotter every time you do that?” she husks.
Purple glittery potpourri on the window-sill prickles at your upper arm as you shuffle backwards, reaching out to Elizabeth with grabby hands. Her petite chest heaves with heavy breaths, her hair sticking up a little in cute blonde spikes.
“You wanna sit, babe?” you ask breathlessly.
Your own vision is a bit blurred from riding on cloud nine just moments ago, your juices running down your legs, glistening in the harsh bathroom light.
“You’ve always got a seat with me.” You wink, and wet your lips with your tongue. “Come sit.”
She chuckles at you, instead moving to kneel between your open legs on the edge of the counter, hovering over you
“Wait until we get home,” she teases, pressing the cold rings on her hand to your inner thigh, “I don’t trust myself, I’ll never leave if I sit now.”
Her lips lace with yours filthily, and you find yourself unable to stop your legs reflexively bolting out to wrap around her hips again, hand coming up to cup her cheek and neck with a bruising hold. Her hips rock against yours, and with your core already opened and revealed to her, all it takes is a slight fidget and a particularly harsh rut of her pelvis, and the priapic extension of Elizabeth—attached, thankfully, by a harness—is buried to the hilt within you. Your gasp is silent, your mouth opening in an inaudible ‘o’, a soundless plea for more. She’s prepped you well as always, and sought to open you up fully, which means that only a moment later you’re tapping her shoulder to signal for her to move.
The bulbous tip of the toy gains your attention rather swiftly as it grazes that heartily stimulated spot that Liz was so focussed on just minutes earlier. Her hips move with such grace even in such an ungainly act, her years of dance training aiding her elegance. God, she’s just so perfect in every way.
“Fuck, baby, I think I’m close—” she murmurs in your ear.
She begins to suck hickeys into your jawline, rendering you utterly speechless at the onslaught of pleasure you’re receiving all at once. Your boobs are bouncing as she pounds into you harder on the counter, the base of the strap now hitting your clit.
“Me too,” you eventually garner to choke out.
Your own pleasure can wait, take a damn backseat, because sweat is beading on Liz’s forehead as she wrecks her knees to fuck you more furiously, delivering you all of the pleasure you could ever want. But Elizabeth? She deserves it far more than you do after everything she’s done for you today.
She bites her lip, probably to keep a moan down the same way you are by biting your tongue, and she proceeds to hook her willowy arms around the crooks of your knees, thus tugging your legs up onto her shoulder, allowing her to hit an even deeper angle than before.
You can’t help the obscene whimper that escapes you, shrill and so pleasured, “Baby, keep— ohmygod please!”
Your head falls back against the hard porcelain rim of the sink, knocking some sense into you. This is your chance, while her eyes are still closed and the veins and ridges of the fake plastic cock are driving deep inside you, squeezed by your clenching walls. Slipping your own arm down her body and between the two of you, you find your way beneath the strap and onto her throbbing pearl.
“Shit!” she squeaks upon the first spark of contact, her body temporarily seizing, but she falls back into her previous pace within moments.
You rub circles on her voraciously, suddenly darting up to capture her lips in a sloppy kiss as a cry threatens to spill from her lips. But then you feel it coming, and your entire body tenses in anticipation, your eyes flying wide open to watch heaven crash right before your eyes.
First, her shoulders tense, followed by her eyelashes fluttering against her sharp cheekbone without her even being aware, then her legs try to involuntarily clench around your hand, her clit throbbing with anticipation as you speed up your movements. Her knees go next, then her arms, and she’s unable to hold herself up, but her hips don’t stop once. That’s when it happens.
“y/n, y/n, y/n.” she repeats like it’s her prayer of salvation.
Every muscle in her body quivers, her lips parting, her nose scrunching. Her teeth then catch your lip in the kiss you’re mixed up in, and her hips still. It doesn’t matter, since you’ve reached your own climax just from watching her fall apart at your very own mercy, your own legs falling from her shoulders, open wide on the counter as you chant her name in as quiet a whisper as you can muster.
Heavy breathing resonates through the small room, the stifling air now reeking of sex.
“C’mere,” you coax.
The counter is cold beneath you, the sink uncomfortable as you lie down flat, but when Liz crawls feebly into your arms, it matters a whole lot less. The comfort she provides is, and always has been, incomparable. Ethereal is the only way to describe her this way, too, blonde hair ruffled as she curls into your side, burying her nose into your shoulder, her arm slung over your waist.
“Do you think you got your revenge, babe?” she asks in a quiet voice, husky, laced with sex.
“Definitely. There’s no way they didn’t hear that.”
“Probably more than what most of those has-beens have got in years.”
You meet her twinkling eyes, and dissolve into a fit of giggles together, gripping her even tighter. It always was a secret fantasy of yours to do something like this, but you never imagined you’d be here nearly a decade later, fucking your wife in the staff bathroom. That’s just… beyond, but so hot.
“Ready to blow this place?”
“More than,” you answer, “but safety first.”
She gazes up at you, pouts and grumbles, but slips off you and into the left hand stall anyway, while you take the right. Once she emerges, the strap is safely stowed away in a discreet bag—one you purchased specifically should a chance like this ever arise since you’re not fans of handbags—and she turns the tap on. You wash your hands in a contented silence, and fix each other's clothes and hair the same way, until you’re at least half way presentable (though still more than mildly dishevelled) in order to just escape to the car and then hope at long merciful last.
“Should we text your brother?”
“I’ll do it when we reach the car,” you tell her, taking her hand as you unfasten the lock and pelt out into the corridor. “Wait, one minute.”
She watches you peculiarly as you pull out perfume from your pocket, spritzing it around the room, before re-entering fully and cranking the window open. At least this way the scent of sex is partially masked.
“Ever the resourceful one,” she chuckles, following your lead down the corridor, her long legs bounding beside you.
Your giggles carry around the high ceilinged building, bumping and bouncing off every wall so it seems, and once you're out into the foyer, she ensures to kiss you loudly, bending down to meet your height, just to test if your kisses have the same effect.
You don’t get to test that, however, before an all too familiar voice snaps you out of your trance, and suddenly, you’re fifteen and being told off for late homework again.
“y/n!”
You scurry to hide Liz behind you, as if that’s of any use whatsoever, and almost melt into tears when you see Mrs Alleman.
“Oh dear, how good to see you.” she professes, and before you quite know what to do with yourself, she’s standing right in front of you, wearing the same stylishly sensible shoes she always did.
“And you, Miss.”
“Who’s this?”
Glee forces a wide smile onto your face, standing aside to allow Elizabeth’s full beauty to be appreciated.
“This is my wife, Elizabeth,” you say, the proudest thing you’ve said all evening. “This is Mrs Alleman, my language teacher. She taught me everything I know.”
“Oh stop it,” she plays coy, but is gasping and gawking joyously beneath it. “Mr Smith owes me a tenner now. I predicted you’d come here with a female partner of some sort, he said you’d just come as an out and proud lesbian but single.”
Your jaw drops, and you can see Elizabeth’s chest rattling a little with swallowed laughter.
“I’m sorry, what? You had a bet on me being gay?”
“Oh yes, it first started when you were in year eleven and so helplessly queer, we couldn’t help but keep placing bets on how long you’d stay in the closet.” She places a gentle hand on your upper arm, noting the evident flush about you, and turns towards Liz. “Anyway, hi Elizabeth. You treat our girl well, she was a great student.”
“Always, Ma’am.” Liz answers dutifully, squeezing your hand even tighter in a silent promise. “She’s the most wonderful thing to have ever happened to me, and I’m glad she had an influence like you among all that lot of bogans.”
Mrs Alleman is impressed, you can tell since she’s wearing that same delighted expression she did when you told her you got into your top choice university with the results you aimed for, thanks to her teaching. “Tall, out, and Aussie? She really does have it all. And as much as I’d like to argue, you’re totally right, that year was a damn nuisance.”
“Somehow, no one has matured since we left?” you comment with feigned shock.
“That doesn’t surprise me.” It didn’t surprise you either. They were a fat lot of use, the whole lot of them. At least you and your brother were able to do good on your promise to get away from them all. “What are you doing now?”
“Oh, I work in translation for the home office and cabinet ministers.” Though your statement doesn’t hold as much pride as the one about Elizabeth being your wife did.
Her eyes grow wide, “That’s brilliant! I know you always wanted to do something like that.”
“I did, and I actually enjoy it.”
Mrs Alleman’s face softens, “I hoped you would. But promise me you’ll never become a teacher.”
You loose a chuckle, saying, “Never,” before stilling to a beat of easy silence.
“I love those earrings, by the way.”
“Oh!” You twist them subconsciously. “Anniversary present.”
“Y’know, I’d love to stay and chat, but I have to get inside and make a speech,” she grumbles. “Drop me an email, I’d love to catch up and properly see how you’re doing. Bring this tall drink of water if you’d like,” she adds with a wink.
“I’d really like that Miss, thank you.” you say, flushing a little.
Mrs Alleman was always one for affection, so you’re not entirely surprised when she approaches you with wide arms, her court shoes muffled on the foyer carpet. You accept the hug, and you’re surprised when Liz does the same. You say your goodbyes, agree to meet again, and let Elizabeth lead you back to the car, your fingers woven together.
“Was that worth being dragged out of the house for?” Liz asks.
“Hmm, I’m not sure. Perhaps shoving that strap down my throat will make it a little more worthwhile,” you say with a smirk.
“I heard that!” Mrs Alleman shouts from the top of the stone steps, gazing at you disapprovingly despite the laughs tumbling from her.
You cling to Liz, pressing your lips into a thin line when you feel your phone buzz, your brother's name popping up on the screen.
‘Everyone knows what you were doing. Don’t come back.’
‘We weren’t planning on it,’ you type back. Not now you’ve reaped your revenge, at least. You shut your phone after adding to the message, ‘Drinks at ours tonight.’
These people from your past are insignificant, Liz is your future and your forever.
#night manager jed#elizabeth debicki#liz debicki#elizabeth debicki avatars#vita & virginia#elizabeth debicki imagine#elizabeth debicki fanfic#elizabeth debicki x reader#elizabeth debicki smut#elizabeth debicki fluff#elizabeth debicki angst#elizabeth debicki x you#elizabeth debicki tom hiddleston#wlw imagine
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Fantasy Cruise
This piece is made for a very special someone, @standoutofthecrowd as a gift. The characters in this story are original and do not belong to any fandom. If you give it a read, I hope you enjoy ❣
Warning! The rating of this is M for Mature themes. ;)
They called it the Fantasy Cruise.
The hyper-luxurious ship of not-so innocent dreams, which promised to make anyone’s fantasies a reality during its five-day trip across the Mediterranean.
Well. So long as the money was there for an individual to afford one of its limited, mind-boggingly expensive tickets. Whoever said dreams were cheap clearly hadn’t heard of that cruise.
The advertisements all over the world promoted the experience as ‘starring in a romance movie’. And wouldn’t anybody be excited to star in their very own epic adventure?
“No.” Quinn deadpanned, dragging her luggage behind as she followed Lena into the fifth circle around the same deck, where their cabins were supposed to be.
“What do you mean no, stupid, isn’t this amazing?!” the other girl asked excitedly.
Quinn wondered what exactly was so amazing about getting lost on a piece of wood floating into the vast blue sea. Her glare met Lena’s back without much of an impact.
“No means no. It’s fine at best.”
“Don’t be a spoilsport, Quinn! Just look at this!” the redhead said, turning around to throw an arm around her shoulders and motion towards the polished-to-a-sparkle saloon, as if that would change the brunette’s entire worldview. “I won us free holidays to the world’s sexiest cruise. You should be beside yourself with excitement right now and buying me a shit ton of drinks as thank you!”
Quinn shook her head. “Correction; You won a trip for you and Mike –but then you had to go and break up and drag me into this, at the last moment.” As always. The woes of being a best friend.
“Because your single ass could really use what this dreamy ship has to offer.” Lena stated.
“It could also use some rest and relaxation at my grandparents’ seaside house.” The brunette countered. “Instead of being the wingwoman to the universe’s most annoying redhead.”
Lena grimaced. “And a sucky wingwoman, at that. Most of the guys I’m interested in come onto you.”
“Except I’m a tad too gay to care.” Quinn let out a small, exasperated sigh.
“Well, then this cruise is your chance! There are a ton of girls here and I can guarantee they aren’t straight as arrows, hon.” Lena replied. “Tell you what. When we find our rooms, we’ll take a look around. And if nobody exists to catch the great Quinn’s interest, I’ll leave you alone for the rest of the trip.”
Quinn’s brown eyes immediately lit up at the sound of that.
“I should be offended at how much you perked up just now.” The other girl commented. “But, anyway. Do we have a deal?”
They shook hands. “We got a freaking deal.”
It only took another hundred turns to find their respective rooms.
…
Quinn was no stranger to waiting for Lena to get ready. The woman could show up anywhere from a quarter to an hour later than their arranged meeting time, so it was nothing out of the norm.
Alone in the empty corridor, Quinn checked her smartwatch, then leaned back against her door with a bored huff. She could already feel the ultra-comfy, queen-sized bed within calling her name, but if she gave into the urge to rest Lena would surely come in like the human wrecking ball she was and ruin it for her.
Giggles from down the corridor reached her ears, then.
Two girls were walking towards her, one raven-haired, the other blonde. Quinn didn’t really pay them any mind, until they were close enough to tell the cute laugh belonged to the blondie.
The stunning blondie.
Quinn hoped –but wasn’t betting on it— that she was subtle in her double-take. Because as soon as the beauty entered her field of vision, all else faded into the background. The girl’s hair was shining like silken strands, her pink lips glossy and glistening, absolutely kissable, her pretty face and killer body taken straight out of a dream.
Hazel eyes met brown for a single, earth-stilling second.
Then the girls were past her and Quinn blinked, checking the blonde’s back out before she disappeared around the next corner.
Damn, she thought. Maybe all that crap about fantasies coming to life weren’t complete bullshit, after all.
“Why do you look like a fish out of water?” Lena’s voice came, shattering the dream to pieces.
“Because I felt like one, waiting for your sorry ass to get ready. Move it or I’m going for a nap.”
“No, you’re not~ we’re hitting the pool.” Lena sing-songed.
Ugh. Maybe I can find someone to keep her busy for the next four days. Quinn thought. She’s happy, I’m free, win-win.
If she only knew…
…
“Hey. Hey look.” Lena whispered. Quinn huffed over her drink. “How about that guy? How would you rate him?”
“Why do you assume my answer’s gonna change? All guys get a zero out of ten from me. Period.”
“He’s an eight at least.”
“Sure, Lena.”
“How about that sexy over there, who’s been staring at your abs for the past ten minutes?”
“Hm?” Quinn turned, following her friends’ gaze under her glasses.
The drink nearly dropped from her hand when she saw the blonde from earlier on the other side of the crystalline pool, fair skin glittering from suncream. The brunette’s throat went dry.
“Ah, now she’s speechless.”
“Tsk. Don’t be an idiot, she’s probably not even gay.”
“Do you have eyes? Even I can tell she’s interested.” was the immediate reply.
“From this distance you couldn’t tell a dude apart from a girl, you idiot.” Quinn teased with a smirk.
“You’re the idiot if you don’t act fast and another girl chats her up first. Remember; We’re here to have a good time. Stop being uptight; There’s your good time, all blonde and waiting for you.”
“Yeah, yeah, Lena, whatever you say-” But her friend was already rising from her sunbed. Quinn didn’t pay her any mind, at first, thinking she was just going for a swim or for a guy that caught her eye.
Instead, five minutes later, much to Quinn’s terror, the insufferable redhead was taking a seat right beside the cute blonde.
To say the brunette rushed to the other side of the pool would be an understatement. She could not recall a single instance in her life where she ran faster. It was practically teleportation.
“Hello, girls. This one has had too much to drink so excuse me, I’m taking her away~”
“Lies, they needed to know you have the hots for blondie but you’re too pussy to make a move-” the redhead began.
Quinn covered Lena’s mouth with a hand, pulling her into a headlock with the other. “Shh, don’t listen. We’re leaving. Sorry for the interruption.”
“Sad.” Miss Cute Blonde spoke up with a shy smile. “So… you’re not interested in me.”
“I… did not say that.” Quinn replied, heart suddenly in her throat. “I also didn’t say I don’t want your number.”
“Oh, good.” Another darling smile.
God. Head empty, girl too pretty. Quinn mentally slapped herself to get her shit together. “And definitely didn’t say I don’t want to see you at the bar later. At, like, ten o’clock.” Thank whatever higher power graced me with this sudden bravery.
“Maybe I’ll be there.” The blonde said.
It was only after Quinn went back inside with her friend in tow that she realized she didn’t even ask for the girl’s name.
“You’re welcome.” Lena laughed.
“Shut up…”
“You’re such a useless lesbian, by the way.”
…
Night had well settled over the ship. The massive pool at its pinnacle stood illuminated by both the moonlight and the soft LEDs within it, creating a beautiful setting, equal parts calming and seductive. Perfect for drinks and dates.
Quinn adjusted her blue button-up shirt as she walked out into the deck, greeted by the wonderful sight. There were tons of well-dressed people all around, but her eyes caught on one individual only.
“Hi.” She greeted, surprised she could speak at all, with the gorgeous blonde right there and dressed up just for her.
“Hey.”
“You look beyond beautiful. Only problem is, I can’t keep calling you ‘cute blonde’ in my head.”
“You look sexy. And you can call me Paisley, Quinn.” she replied in her sweet voice.
“You… know my name.” Don’t blush, don’t blush—
“I asked your friend.” came the shy admission.
“Yeah? What else did you ask about me?” Quinn smirked, slipping into the stool next to hers.
“Um… if you like girls…?”
“If I like you?” Feeling bolder, she raised a challenging eyebrow.
“If you like me…” Paisley chuckled there at the end. It was a sound that shot straight to Quinn’s heart.
And that– was worrying.
Because this was quite literally her dream girl in front of her... except she’d already paid the price of dreams, before. It had felt similar, then, since the first moment. A zap, undeniable attraction. An instant connection. And then… she’d been left bitter and alone.
Cold. Afraid to approach women for anything other than one quick, meaningless night.
“I think it’s quite easy to tell I do like you. A lot of things about you. Your hair, your eyes, your smile, that melodic voice. How come a girl like you is single? That’s a crime.”
“Um. Long story, I guess. How come a girl like you is?”
“Long, unhappy story.” Quinn grimaced.
“I have time.”
They ended up chatting the night away, until the small hours of the morning.
…
The deck had nearly emptied.
Paisley and Quinn were walking side-by-side, admiring the dark waves as they gently lapped at the stark white shell of the cruise. It was time to say goodnight, but both were hesitant to go. To break the moment. To lose the chance for more.
Slowly, they turned to face each other.
“I had a great time.” Quinn began. “Thanks for the amazing company.”
“No, thank you…”
Neither moved to leave. Instead, they gravitated closer. Perhaps it wasn’t a smart move. Perhaps it would only lead to more trouble in the end. Perhaps it was fated. Perhaps it was fleeting.
But.
Quinn knew she would regret it for her entire life if she let Paisley slip away without first knowing exactly how soft her lips would feel against her own.
“So…” She began. “In the hypothetical scenario I wanted to kiss you before we go… would you like that?”
A brilliant smile, enough to rival the moon in its shine. “Hypothetically… I would.”
No more needed to be said.
The lock of their lips spoke the rest for them. Slippery, soft, tasting of daiquiri and strawberry lipgloss, that kiss was everything.
That kiss was the beginning of everything.
…
A full day had passed and they spent every moment together.
Swimming, laughing, trading interesting little facts and life stories. Trading kisses. What they had was a bond that formed so suddenly yet so powerfully it defied even logic.
As love often did.
And it was love. They both knew it, instinctively. Perhaps they weren't ready to admit it, perhaps the word was scary to fully register, yet that didn't make it any less true.
Every kiss fed something more than desire. Every caress, over an arm, over the gentle curve of a neck or a thigh, carried more than a physical aftershock.
They both knew they were on the same page on what they wanted, come nighttime. It was a wonder they hadn't ripped each other's bathing suits right by the pool so far. But they could only play nice for so long.
Quinn could feel her skin alight with want at every wayward trail of Paisley's nails on her. She wanted to have everything with the girl, even if it was just for a few days, just for one unforgettable night. They could worry about the rest later. They were already in too deep, anyway.
Paisley's back pressed against the door to her room. Her mouth was already onto Quinn's, tongue over her own, soft sighs and breaths filling the nonexistent space between their bodies.
Quinn's hands slipped under the blonde's top, caressing her tight, quivering stomach.
“Ah, at this rate we'll never make it inside.” Paisley panted.
“Good. Then whoever comes this way will know you're mine to have.” Quinn replied. Her teeth caught the sensitive shell of an ear. “You'd like that, wouldn't you? For them to walk in on us like this? With my hand in your pants, rubbing you slowly?”
“Mmh.. Fuck...”
“With my fingers in your pussy, working deep?”
“Fuck Quinn...” Paisley groaned, pushing herself down on the thigh trapped between her legs. It only made the ache at her center worse.
Quinn couldn't help but rub herself against her, to ease her own lust. Their lips locked again while Paisley fumbled blindly for the electronic lock. It was a wonder they got the door to open with how focused they were on each other. Quick steps took them to the plush mattress at the far end of the room.
The brunette pushed gently, taking great pleasure in how easily her lover allowed herself to fall. Pale wrists were pinned onto the bed while thirsty tongues and bodies sought each other out...
But then they both pulled back. Paused. Stared into each other's eyes. The mood shifted like the wind before a storm. All the previous lust melted into something softer and far deeper, the urgency muted as they slowly started peeling each other's clothes off.
“You really are the most beautiful girl I've ever seen.” Quinn whispered.
“You're the most stunning I've seen.” Paisley said back, a hand caressing her brunette's strong shoulders.
As much as she wanted to melt under the ministrations, Quinn wanted to bring her girl to that serrated edge of bliss, first. Thus began her descent down the marble plane of the blonde's neck, pausing to mark the skin with her teeth before soothing it with licks and kisses, enjoying every hitched breath she drew.
God, she feels so good...
With a light caress over Paisley's thigh, her mouth licked over a hard nipple, paying it the proper attention before moving further down. Her blonde was quivering by that point, non-verbally begging for her release. Every muscle taut, every breath shallow, eyes blown into swirling black pools. She was breathtaking.
Everything about the moment was.
When deft fingers finally dragged over soaked flesh, the reaction was as immediate as it was loud. Quinn decided she could easily get hooked on the sound and repeated the same motion with her tongue, from bottom to top.
She could feel in her mouth how ready to topple over the edge Paisley was for her. How she tried to last longer but couldn't help it. Quinn didn't think she could wait any longer, either. She needed to see her unravel more than she needed oxygen, right then.
With the insertion of fingers and a powerful suck, Paisley was crying out into the room, arching, clenching and contorting for her. Quinn, brought to the edge by her voice alone, couldn't help but grind down on her leg to mirror her release.
They both lay together after that, basking in the quiet closeness of their afterglow, hands roaming, worshiping, until the sunrise greeted them with its golden glory.
...
“I'm scared.” Paisley admitted between them. “That when the cruise ends, so will we. And I'm not ready to let this go tomorrow.”
“Neither am I. Not tomorrow. Maybe not ever.” Quinn said. “I haven't felt this way before. I don't generally feel things so... powerfully.” But this one slipped right under her defenses, somehow.
“But how will we make this work? You live here. I live on the other side of the world.” The blonde lowered her head, expression overtaken by sadness. “We'll just hurt to be apart.”
“We'll hurt, yes. But we won't 'just' hurt. Every relationship comes with pain— I think it's unavoidable, whether one’s partner is near or not. The question is, whether that pain is worth it. And I'd rather hurt yearning for you than for not having you at all.”
“I— I don't know what to say...” Paisley trailed off. “I only know I can't bear to lose you.”
“You won't lose me if you don't let me go. I will never abandon you, never let you face this shitty world alone.”
“Do you promise?”
“I promise.”
A promise sealed with a kiss and intertwined fingers below a gorgeous sunset.
And as it turned out, love can defeat any obstacle if it's real and true. Physical restrictions don't matter when it comes to what the heart needs. Distance bends before it. Even time can. Laws of physics and reason cease to apply.
The heart will love what it is meant to love.
#creative writing#original character#oc x oc#fanfiction#original work#quinn and paisley#love story#wlw#lgbtq#the gay is everywhere#happy pride 🌈#gift fic
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historical movies and shows whose costumes I unequivocally love: an incomplete list
- Crimson Peak. OH MY GOD. THE GOLD STANDARD. THE A+ 1000/10 EXAMPLE OF HIGH-CONCEPT ARTISTIC COSTUMES THAT ARE STILL REASONABLY ACCURATE AND GROUNDED IN THEIR ERA (1901-ish, if anyone wasn’t sure). Designer Kate Hawley had never done a period piece before, and she now lives in my heart rent-free always and forever.
Just imagine: if you have an adult Victorian woman’s hair up like it should be, you can actually show that the character's in trouble by leaving it down all the time! What a concept! Using departures from era-normal in service to the story! Who’d have thunk it?! </s>
This list is in no particular order, but Crimson Peak is definitely #1.
- Emma (2020). BRB making 5,000 cute Regency spencer jackets. I love the costuming in this movie. I love it so much. A lot of the dresses are copied from or closely inspired by extant garments and it makes my heart sing. They even replicated my personal favorite Regency ball gown, a silk number from the V&A with a red net overlay and chenille embroidery on the sleeves, neckline, bodice, and hem. [chef’s kiss]
- John Adams (HBO miniseries). With respect to the costumers, who I’m sure did a ton of work and research, this one is what I call Too Boring To Be Inaccurate. There weren’t any particular artistic statements being made with the costumes- just normal, mostly New England clothes of the upper and upper-middle class in the late 18th and early 19th centuries. Centered around a family that didn’t go in for anything flashy or ostentatious even when they had the money for it. Good, serviceable costumes that never made me want to throw things. Bless.
- Fingersmith (BBC miniseries). This one has a bit more departures from accuracy, mostly in women’s sleeve length and occasionally in hairstyle. But overall, it falls into the same category as John Adams. The costumes are there to cover the actors and inform the audience about age, gender, and status, and that’s it. Perfectly acceptable.
- Marie Antoinette (2006). Everyone talks about how inaccurate the costumes in this are. And they’re not wrong- a lot of details are off. But the silhouettes are reasonably good, they show us a lot about the characters’ world and mental states, and there’s change over time that mimics what happened IRL. It’s heightened, but not in a way that seems to mock the era. I actually really like these costumes. And the “I Want Candy” scene looks like an ideal day with my historical costuming friends.
- The Favourite. Is it time for c. 1700 badger royals being gay? Always. Always and forever. This time period doesn’t get enough exposure on film, and I feel like this movie really did it justice. Artistic liberties were taken, but nothing bad enough to detract from my enjoyment of the movie (and the costumes in particular).
- Titanic (1997). SO. PRETTY. PRETTY PRETTY 1912 PRETTINESS THAT MAKES ME WANT TO MAKE LATE EDWARDIAN CLOTHES AND BE THE PRETTIEST LATE EDWARDIAN PRINCESS. Rose’s hair should have been a bit more Up. That’s my one quibble. “Hair down to show that a character is becoming less repressed” was tired visual shorthand even back then (when I was a wee Marzi of 4 who memorized My Heart Will Go On despite not being allowed to see the movie).
- Moulin Rouge! I. I can’t even offer an excuse for this one. Except maybe that the few non-stage-costume outfits you see (and many of the stage costumes on people who aren’t Satine or Nini) aren’t actually that bad? ...look, it’s really pretty and doesn’t tick most of my particular Annoyance Boxes, okay?
- House of Wax (1953). I was surprised to see a movie from before like 1980 deliver so well on the costume accuracy front. But they do a pretty damn good job of dressing their middle-class characters in New York City c. 1905. There’s even a dressing scene where a female character appears to have all the right layers worn properly- and her tightlacing is presented as unusual, done specially for a night out with a new potential sugar daddy.
- Hugo. The early 1930s outfits are great, but I really love this movie’s near-perfect recreation of late 19th-early 20th century film costumes. Kudos to the designer (Sandy Powell, natch) and shop workers tasked with going over Méliès’ movies with a fine-tooth comb and getting all the details right from very grainy, low-quality film taken 100+ years earlier.
- The Young Victoria. DAMNIT, POWELL, YOU’RE GOING TO MAKE ME SLIP UP AND ACTUALLY LIKE SOME 1830S STYLES. RUDE.
#historical costuming#period drama#costume drama#historical fiction#there are other historical movies that I like but whose costumes- while they didn't annoy me -didn't really leave an impression#mystery of the eiffel tower for example#also Harlots is like...I ENJOY the costumes but I definitely have some accuracy questions that keep me from fully loving them#(why do none of these women own hats for one thing)#(there's also quite a bit of inappropriately loose hair for another)
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Plesse tell me about queerness in the get down!!
okay okay queerness in the get down let's fuckn goooo
disclaimer: I havent watched this show in full for like 5 months at least, probably gonna get something wrong and/or forget some more important bits. also this wasnt proof read I just word vomited
tws: period typical homophobia, abuse mention, f slur use, bury your gays trope, overdose mention, mention of a creepy possible age gap (the age gap hasnt been confirmed so that's why its possible), cops
going from least to most prominent queer characters, let's start with mylene cruz!
so, from the beginning of this show she has an established romantic relationship with ezekiel (although the status of their actual relationship changes frequently throughout the show) and though this was a relationship she was hesitant to pursue, it is clear that she does have romantic feelings for him and if not for them both having growing careers in very different music genres (zeke specifically working in a genre that she repeatedly labels as bad because she thinks they're ruining records + that it isnt real music because they're using someone elses piece and rapping over it, that's not really important here tho lol) they probably wouldve had a much healthier, smooth sailing romance. that being said theres a few things that happen in the show that, while not explicitly clear, or even really good coding at that—to the point where you wont catch if you really arent looking for it (and trust me, I always look for coding, hers was just so little that it flew over my head until I saw someone else mention it)—are still cool to think about!
so, for starters, I wanna mention the toy box performance, which was performed by mylene and regina, who are best friends. that's all cool and shit, and you dont really think much about it...until you hear about the fact that the show runners purposely colored a lot of the scenes in that performance with the bi colors. like. the writers after the show ended basically said "oh yeah there was plans to make her coding more explicit, but our shit got cancelled soooo" and then dropped the fact that she was gonna be bi (or at least implies bi) in the series, which puts a new twist on a few things.
now, besides the bi coloring in the background of the toy box performance (which was mostly on scenes with her and regina, which involved a lot of uh,, lowkey lewd dancing. with each other. in very revealing outfits. wooooo), there's her music! I dont tend to read too much into this one bc, like I said before, her coding is fucking light and the writers themselves said they didnt really get to do much with it, but I think some stuff with her music is interesting. specifically how her, yolanda and regina's song set me free blew up because dizzee, resident (lowkey enby coded) bicon, got their song played in a queer club. also that the song was majorly important to dizzee and started playing literally right as he kissed a boy for the first time and realized "oh shit I like boys that's bonkers". also that the song can be taken in a gay way since literally the entire thing is about becoming your true self, fully and unapologetically, which is what both dizzee and mylene's entire character arcs are about. dizzee (and a lot of other queer people, apparently), heard this song about being set free and it resonated with them so much that they got that shit most of its popularity.
speaking of dizzee and mylene, they parallel each other a lot in the way that their arcs are about them realizing who they are, coming into themselves and no longer just letting people treat them like shit in a sense (dizzee starting to tell people essentially that they can call him weird all they want, they can make fun of how he acts, what he likes, how he dresses, etc. but he likes how he is and quite literally saying "it's okay to be an alien" as he has consistently compared himself to one throughout the show vs mylene learning that if she wants to be a disco singer she needs to put her foot down, not let anyone, not even the love of her life, not even her abusive father, stop her from achieving her dreams, etc. and continuing to pursue her career with or without their support). one more little parallel that I think is interesting is during I think s2 towards the end of the show is when dizzee and thor are shown together having fun with each other, painting all over the building and each other and are basically just being happy and in love together and then they have these clips of them being interspersed with clips of mylene at a party where she is starting to realize that if she wants to get anywhere she needs to be her own main priority and that she needs to put her career and her dream, which is what makes her the happiest, above all else if she wants to succeed. idk I just think how the show made these two into a weird parallel, accidental or not, is neat. maybe not an explicitly queer parallel, but I think at least how her music and whatnot helped dizzee, the main queer character in this show, blossom, is important.
moving on we got shaolin fantastic also known as "oh no your internalized homophobia is showing-"
so, heres a quick list of...interesting shao facts:
Consistently referred to as fag/faggot (shaolin fanfaggot is my personal favorite); he gets really defensive about this despite nobody actually thinking he's queer, it's just people being assholes to be assholes, and he is the only character consistently referred to using a slur, especially a homophobic one, especially for a "straight" character. dizzee, a canonically queer character, is called a fag less than shaolin is even though dizzee actively goes to gay clubs, has a not so secret dude he "hangs out with" and wont let anyone properly meet, paints his nails, wears less than straight clothes even by the 70s standards and is just all around the definition of fucking queer (and I mean like in the weird way, not the gay way). in fact theres only like once I can remember him being called a fag and it had nothing to do with him actually being gay it was literally just like thrown out there the same way you would call someone a bitch.
Has only shown sexual interest in women, yet refuses to have deeper relationships with women in general (possibly because of trauma but who knows) but takes his relationships with his "brothers", specifically zeke, very seriously
Tells zeke and zeke ONLY his real name when zeke was planning to stop being his friend bc shao more or less got boo boo, a like 14 year old black kid, arrested for selling hard drugs; he was clearly scared and trying to do anything to keep zeke around, literally chasing him down the street and hounding him until he got zeke to stop and argue with him
Kept threatening to beat up zeke in the end but couldn't actually bring himself to do so, instead saying that zeke is "fucking lucky" before walking away
Let's zeke get away with things that nobody else can, in general just has a weird soft spot for ezekiel that he shows with nobody else
when shao found dizzee with thor in a vaguely compromising situation (like they were just shirtless covered in paint sleeping next to each other but shao had also seen everything they painted on the walls ((which some of it was sus)), it was clear they had painted on each others bodies and dizzee had been routinely disappearing with this guy for weeks now yet not producing nearly as much art, at least, as far as we audience members know) he didnt judge him but instead, waited for him to get cleaned up and then told him something along the lines of "theres a reason why im so secretive blah blah blah [not everyone needs to know everything about me]", which, in context, kinda implies that he might be a lil. a lil homiesexual. jus a lil.
whenever even the possibility of zeke leaving him comes up he absolutely loses it. he has literally cost ezekiel life changing opportunities because he thought zeke would just up and leave him for them. this could be abandonment issues bc he's a severely traumatized character, and that probably does contribute to it, but it also is just not a reaction he has to any of their other friends just randomly dipping in and out of his life soooooo
generally speaking, this mfer has got either bisexual with a big hard on for zeke coding or homosexual with terrible internalized homophobia and still a hard on for zeke coding. either fucking way, that nigga gay. he gay as hell. gay as fuck man. there wasn't really much to analyze here tbh bc the coding is just so fucking obvious if you look for it or you are/have been a gay person who's dealt with at least a little bit of internalized homophobia.
also, just a sidenote, idk how fucking old shao, but I'm praying hes like at max 19 bc I'm pretty sure zeke is a minor in this show and shao definetly is not so the whole him being heavily implied to have a crush on ezekiel thing is kinda. oof. not oof if zeke is like 17 but any younger than that? OOF.
edit: apparently the characters are only supposed to be a year apart in age but i had no clue about that before writing this post and since shaos age was never actually stated in the show i naturally assumed he was an adult since his actor Looks Like An Adult. this is definetly on me to a certain extent, but i also never saw anything about this when trying to find our their ages so 🤷♀️ maybe i just didnt look deep enough, sorry!
now moving on to the main event...marcus dizzee kipling :]
so, first things first, let's talk enby coding bc him being bisexual was already confirmed!
um, to start off, I just wanna say I dont think this enby coding was intentional or even really coding, it's just moreso me being a dizzee kin on main and knowing as a transmasc enby he has very transmasc enby vibes. for example:
cool, gender neutral nickname that everyone calls him
paints nails various different colors
the whole wardrobe is just a transmasc enby heaven...fishnet shirts, jean overalls, jackets and cuffed pants galore, the big colorful pins, etc
gender neutral hairstyle (when I had my fro it was very sexy and made it easy to transition between hyper masc and vaguely fem, which is pog)
comparing himself to/representing himself consistently with an alien character (though this is meant to represent his sexuality, it could also double as a gender thing too, not neccesarily bc of the whole nonbinary alien trope but bc an enby who likes aliens might heavily identify or compare themselves to whatever their idea of an alien is, whether that just be a genderless entity or a motherfucker with fly style and no need to be perceived as anything other Wacky As Hell)
moving on from there, let's talk about how his queerness is presented to us and how, while it may be a really good piece of representation, especially coming from netflix, it still lacks in A Lot of places.
so, let's start with good things!
i personally really like the get down's queer rep with dizzee bc it's (for the most part) nonsexualized and very very soft, about dizzee figuring himself out and realizing there is a place where he fits in, and about two teenagers in the 70s falling in love over their shared passion for street art. it also features an interracial couple where both boys challenge stereotypes both about queer men and men of color, which is epic poggers and very sexy. this piece of rep specifically is very important to me bc I am a queer black person and even tho interracial relationships are mostly normalized now, I've still had people give me shit for primarily dating white people in a town that is...primarily white lol
mm anyways, I can also appreciate how in the get down, dizzee being represented by rumi the alien is not a thing specifically related to gender (as it often is) and instead is about his sexuality and just in general weirdness and how it has led to him being alienated amongst his peers, poc or otherwise. him seeing himself as an alien is not about just his queerness, which is important, it is about him being a queer black man who talks different, acts different, dresses different and is "soft"—he isnt a walking black male stereotype and he wouldnt have been seen as masculine back in the 70s by any stretch of the imagination. this can be relatable to a wide spectrum of queer poc, from queer black men currently who still have to deal with this shit or to people like myself who are afab neurodivergent mixed race enbies that have always been signaled out as weird and alienated for it. dizzee is god rep bc while he has a small part in this show, his parts are very impactful, hard hitting and show queer poc of all ages that they arent alone and that it's okay to "weird", you just need to embrace it because somebody will love you for you, as thor did for dizzee.
that being said theres um. some minor problemas here,,,
namely:
dizzee and thors first kiss
the lack of development this pairing got
the way dizzee was confirmed bisexual off screen, he never said the words himself, just showed interest in both genders
the way dizzee and thor were never even confirmed boyfriends or just fwb so most of the fandom just calls them boyfriends bc Why Not
dizzee was implied fucking DEAD??? AT THE END OF THE SERIES?????? AND THOR WAS IMPLIED ARRESTED?????????????
now, these might have been things that wouldve been fine had the show been given it's full run but it wasnt which is why we are now left with probelms.
so, from the top, let's go over these: dizzee and thor's first (and only "on screen") kiss was one that was shown in a montage of other queer people making over and doing other vaguely romantic/sexual things, one of those things being a whole ass naked titty being mouthed at, but the actual kiss...was just not shown? like they really did just say "yes they kissed <3 you know this from the context clues of it being in a montage with kissing, hickey giving and titty sucking <3 but no we will not show it <3" LIKE HELLO? I SAW A NAKED BOOBIE BUT NOT TWO MEN KISS??? HUH????????
also, dizzee and thor were both fucking high as hell during this bit like this isnt a terrible thing but it's also like sometimes you do shit when you're high that you wouldnt do sober and they just never kissed again on screen so like?? like idk that's not that bad but it does kinda irk me since they deadass got no other on screen intimacy after that unless you including painting on eacher other or sleeping next to each other on a shitty mattress but not touching at all during it bc they were both at opposite ends of the mattress like half way off it
so yeah, that was trash. then we got lack of development, which kinda goes with the "dizzee being a bisexual but he never says it in canon" thing cause like...okay dizzee was already sort of a side character from the get go like he wasnt the mc by any means, but he became way more of a background character as things continued until we basically only saw him for performances or when he was with thor, yet they got no fucking development as a pairing other than "dizzee realize he gay, he like thor, he and thor spend time together and ig probably do some gay stuff but we dont really know bc we only ever see them do graffiti together now" like?? tf am I supposed to do with that shit. answer. quickly. and then theres dizzee not being confirmed bisexual, which is just a running problem with shows literally doing everything to say a character is bi except for having the character just...say they're bi? which would be so easy? like a good way dizzee and thor couldve had some development is by thor teaching dizzee things about the queer community that he didnt even know existed, thor couldve helped him understand what being bi meant and helped him label himself and whatnot but instead we got an off screen confirmation that the writers had bisexual in mind when writing him. which is garbagé.
the whole thor and dizzee never having a confirmed relationship status is also a development problem cause like literally nobody knows if they were just friends who made out, maybe fucked, who knows, or if they were dating bc dizzee does give a love confession but a love confession doesn't mean there is a relationship, especially since thor didn't say he was in love either (as far as I remember, I could be wrong, plus whether or not that really happened or was apart of dizzee literally overdosing during a performance is unclear so 🤪)
and now for the biggest issue...bury your gays trope.
during the season 2 finale, dizzee and thor are chased by cops after they are found doing graffiti, one of the cops is able to catch thor while the other chases dizzee into a train tunnel and there is a train seen headed straight for him before the show cuts to black on a train horn. the show writers claim that if they had gotten another season, dizzee wouldve been alive but since they didnt and since that's essentially super fan trivia knowledge, most people dont fucking know that and instead had to watch a black queer teenager chose death over being fucking arrested by a white cop. on top of that, thor didnt see any of that shit because he was caught and the cop started hauling him off while dizzee was still being chased so thor literally has no clue where his friend/possible boyfriend fucking is or that he's likely dead in a goddamn tunnel all alone, unless you count the fucking pig that chased him in there who wouldve died too. this shows rep was so fucking good as far as most shows go on not having major fucking problems, on not being toxic and over sexualized, etc, etc. and then they just. killed a black queer teenager for no fucking reason. like it was literally the last episode ever, it would add nothing to the plot, it would just devastate fans and devastate it fucking did. I dont cry easy but seeing a character I identified with, who I had hyperfixated on, die because he'd rather that than be arrested is terrible. it fucking sucked.
so yeah. that's my all too extensive thoughts/analysis on the get down's queerness. theres definitely stuff I missed, or misinterpreted, or looked too much into, etc, etc., but this was a fun thing to spend time writing sooo yeah!! thanks for the ask anon, sorry this was just a big rambley info dump, but hopefully you get some enjoyment out of it since it took like 3 hours at least 😭😭 feel free to ask clarifying questions lol
#shit self#asks#the get down#mylene cruz#shaolin fantastic#dizzee kipling#long post#analysis#info dump#idk if anon has seen tgd or is just being nice so i tried givinh background to things#kinz#bangerz#discourse
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martin del rosario & he/they/any / demi-man ‷ watch out , bryce sirilan has crash-landed into roswell !! they look 32 years old and celebrate their birthday on january 20. they are from bacolod, philippines, reside in tripp’s trailer park and are currently working as bartender @ wild pony. one thing you should know about them is they dress up in drag sometimes at planet 7 (for fun, not work). ‷ ( thia, she/her/they, 21, gmt )
BASICS
full name: bryce sirilan
age: 32
birth date: january 20, 1990
ethnicity: mostly filipino (hiligaynon and bicolano), some amount of white spanish heritage
sexuality: big bisexual… w/ a leaning towards women / fem ppl
relationship status: single
languages spoken: hiligaynon (native), tagalog (fluent), english (fluent), bicolano (basic bc his mom never taught him properly)
pronouns: he/they (but they don’t mind other pronouns like she unless ur being a piece of shit and using them to mock him lmao)
bryce is the oldest sibling and would’ve been the golden child. he was smart and reliable and shit. the problem for his family? bryce was sure that they were not cishet from a very young age. probably since kindergarten. they did not like that
speaking as a queer filipino, i know that filipinos tend to treat sexuality and gender as interchangeable. if you’re amab (assigned male at birth) and turn out queer in any way (though honestly i’ve seen this concept be applied to effeminate cishet men too), you’re assumed to be a gay man.
and there’s nothing wrong with being a gay man ofc. bryce embraced it tbh, it was their first label. they also fit the usual filipino of a camp gay dude.
i mean, when he decided to change his birth name he considered “carey” bc mariah carey and he’s pretty sure he subconsciously ended up using bryce bc it was a subtle nod to britney spears. (bryce siralan does sound a bit like britney spears, doesn’t it?)
but that wasn’t who bryce was. he’d learn that later.
he abandoned his immediate family to follow his supportive aunt to the usa when he was 13ish? so yeah, he grew up here in roswell.
when he was in his late teens maybe, he met ppl who taught him that sexuality and gender are separate. if you are a gay man ofc and you’re campy and everything, there’s nothing wrong w/ that! but your gender expression doesn’t inherently determine your sexuality, he learned. and there’s a whole spectrum of lgbtq+ identities
in that period of time, they thought about it and realized that they were nonbinary and bi.
anyway, they could’ve pursued a hotshot career bc they’re brainy but they don’t want that life.
they grumble about their annoying, mundane job at wild pony sure but lowkey they’re very grateful for it!!! yeah sure it’s boring and stressful but it’s part of the charm for him. just being able to live a normal life is good enough for him
they have enough money to leave tripp’s trailer park rn and fend for himself (and just himself, realistically) but doesn’t want to abandon their aunt & cousins.
yeah he likes to dress up in drag and yes his fc has gifs in drag so tune in
he’s honestly more into women but is much more insecure about pursuing them romantically. for reasons he thinks are obvious – society doesn’t rly expect a (demi-)guy who can walk perfectly in 6-inch heels to be into women at all.
they’d like to explore their attraction to women more, though. they’re attracted to men/masc-presenting ppl too though! and androgynous peeps.
on that 6-inch heels note: bryce is 6′0″, which is tall but not terrifyingly so. in heels he can be as tall as 6′6″ and seeing ppl get intimidated/startled by it makes him happy njansdjasdjn he’s a troll sometimes srry
“certified best kisser and thats why i dated him” –testimony from thee @nfldunn himself kdmskndjn
dating gunner in high school kinda left them with abandonment issues rip </3
anyway that’s all for now! pls do plot with us!
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