#homophobia in fiction

[the-bar-sinister]

Despite a ton of queer subtext, the actual canonical text of Ace Attorney is deeply homophobic and heteronormative.

Homosexuality and queerness are never directly referenced or mentioned at all in the series. There is never a moment in the series where it is directly discussed that non-straight is a thing you can be.

However, there are a few characters who are implied to be non-straight and these cases are handled in the same way every time.

Male homosexual stereotypes: men who wear cosmetics, are flashy and limp wristed. These queer stereotype men are treated with derision by the characters and the text. At one point Phoenix Wright directly calls another man (Redd White) a "fruitcake" which is a slur against homosexual men.

Implied lesbians: Specifically Lana Skye and Aura Blackquill. In both cases these characters are hinted to have romantic feelings for another woman. In both these cases, the characters around them do not reference this directly and instead act embarrassed on the woman's behalf. Ema hurries to explain that Lana's attraction to Mia is "an intellectual attraction", and in court, everyone is nervous to explain to the judge that Aura was in romantic love with Metis and it's never said directly, only hinted around with embarrassment.

In both cases, male and female, the characters of Ace Attorney act in a way that suggests that homosexuality in the Ace Attorney universe is something embarrassing and shameful.

At no point in the series is there ever a moment where homosexual behavior and presentation isn't treated as something embarrassing and shameful.

[langernameohnebedeutung]

ngl, I'm beginning to take issue with how in conversations about anti-intellectualism almost automatically, the face of girls and women will be slapped on the problem.

[mirajikan]

listen just once I want the queer coded shonen mcs to kiss because I wanna see the dude bros flip out

[mrtequilasunset]

Whenever I talk about Kim and Harry getting married I inevitably get people in my notes saying things like "they wouldn't get married because no one is married in Revachol anymore" which like sure but also that is definitely a doomer hyperbole. Judit is married, plaisance is married, and Billie and Tommy. Lilienne was married too, and so was Trant. Plenty of people get married in Revachol, and besides that, we know that Harry *wants* to be married. He wanted Dora to be his wife. He still refers to her as his ex-wife and is so incredibly disappointed when he finds out she wasn't. Jean said "no one is married anymore" and that's become like some irrefutable Canon people have adopted but you have to remember Jean is one of the most miserable cunts in the game, of course he's gonna be pessimistic about this *especially* since it was said to Harry, the guy he spends most of the game antagonizing.

I guess my point is that I refuse to believe Harry wouldn't want Kim to wife him up first chance they get just because of a grumpy ass comment made by a dude with the world record for largest stick up ass.

[whereserpentswalk]

There was a preacher who died, and became one of the few humans to go to the heaven of his god Christ after his death. He was greeting by a golden city, filled with strange angels with firey wings and shining eyes. The sky was above him and below him, and it was black and it was bright.

When he stepped into the gates of this heaven, the golden city was massive, yet almost empty, few walked it's streets. It had been made big enough for every human to live to walk through it, yet it had been open to so very few, most of the buildings were empty, the streets always wider than they needed to be, and lights rarely on. Even most of the angels had fallen away.

A lone angel guided the preacher through the city, and the first thing the preacher asked was, "I would like to see my daughter here. She had died before me, she would be waiting here for me I'm sure."

The angel replied in a glassy and I human voice, "No. She is elsewhere. She was a homosexual. You had preached many times that her kind would not be accepted here when you lived on earth. I recall you had said such words exactly to her. You should not have been suprised to be correct." The angel did not understand when the preacher wept.

The preacher than asked the angel, "Still then, perhaps I may see my father. I always wished to see him again here."

The angel replied, "He is here neither. I question why you wonder this? He was an adulterer, for that you cursed him well, and gave him your anger. Why do you want him here now for what you cursed him for on earth?"

The preacher wept again, but than asked, "Than may I at least see my brother? He has committed no act of grave sin has he?"

The angel replied, "Your brother was an atheist. Did your books not so clearly say that he who rejects the lord may not be let to his kingdom? You had preached such words on earth, and said such words to him? Why have you changed so much in death."

The preacher wept again and replied, "Than I am alone here. So may I at least see Christ so that I may than have someone?"

The angel walked him up a castle with a thousand steps, past great cannons and ballistas that were used to fight non christian spirits. Past the endless hallways and the rivers of wine that was blood and blood that was wine. And Christ sat on his golden throne, with his crown still of thorns, and his eyes still black, and wrists and ankles still bleeding endlessly into the night.

And the preacher begged Christ, "Please. Send me away. Send me to whatever hell you have dammed the others. I cannot be here if I am alone."

[daddykinkkinard]

oh okay we're calling gay men slurs now. okay! rot in hell. :))

[captianprices40thson]

good morning good fellow could you write more about Graves x male!reader? I love your writing and 🫡🫡🫡 this american twink makes me feel things I don't like.

It's only right to think about the guy you love and hold him tight.

Warnings: None. Very fluffy. There is a little bit of internalised homophobia but that’s only if you squint and use a magnifying glass. A swear word or two. Not edited.

Requested: Yes!

Words: 1.5k

Pairing: Phillip Graves x M!Reader

Pronouns used: You/Yourself. Reader is male and receives masculine compliments.

AAAAA SORRY I’VE BEEN GONE FOREVER. School caught up to me (you know how finals are in my country.) But I’m nearly on break and will be able to write a lot more. Enjoy this extravaganza of bullshit and pain.

“Phillip-” You groaned as he dragged you through the home you shared, blindfolded. Of course, you knew where he was taking you, you had walked this path a million times before…but he still wanted you blindfolded.

“Almost there, handsome.”

“Why am I blindfolded?” You asked, curiosity getting the best of you. Sure, you didn’t ask any questions when he put it on you from behind, but it felt like he was dragging you around for a good seven hundred minutes.

“Because I have a surpriseee.” He responded and you could practically hear the grin in his voice. The American man continued to hold your hand with his own, which was surprisingly soft for a man like him who spent his days in gloves and handing things rather rough.

“Phillip, I have to cook dinner.” You mumbled, getting the slightest bit frustrated. Yes, you loved this man with all your heart, but he really needed to stop doing this shit when you had just gotten home after a long day.

“Okay, okay…we’re here.” He smiled and let go of your hand, leaving you in the darkness that was the blindfold. You were left alone for a moment, before his reassuring hands came from behind to remind you that you were not alone, and that he would be taking it off now.

“Surprise.” He smiled as the blindfold came off and your eyes scanned around the room. It was what was previously the living room, now turned into an assortment of pillows, blankets, a few stuffed animals that came from both you and him, and overall just a comfortable ass looking room. The TV and coffee table were not covered, although the coffee table had an assortment of food he knew you loved.

“I know you had a rough day at work and…figured you might just want to relax.” He continued, walking further into the room. He had taken his shoes off, revealing he was wearing cat paw print socks you had gotten for him ages ago as a joke. You were going to mention it, but he spoke first, handing you a pair of matching socks, although they were black and pink instead of his white and pink.

“Don’t think your amazing and totally cool husband would let things like a bad day slide. It's relaxing time, big guy.” He smiled and you felt like he could not have said anything more cringe. Though, that’s why you liked him. He was cringe and to be honest, so were you.

“Jesus Christ, Phillip.” You smiled, taking your socks off. “You’re so cheesy, you know that?”

“So are you? Remember what you did when I kissed you the first time?” He retorted, sitting down on the couch which was currently covered in a blanket with a stupid amount of pillows.

“Yes, I understand. I said crikey. I was seventeen. It was cool back then.” You responded, taking off your own shoes and socks in order to put on the pair your husband had given you.

“Was it though?” He asked, picking up the remote and turning the Tv on.

“Oh like you can talk, Mr ‘Totally straight until you met me.’” You smiled as you sat down on the comfortable couch next to him.

“Oh you know what?” He groaned and before you could say anything, he tackled you on the couch, ending up on top of you with his head in your neck. You both laughed, his body pressing on top of yours was comforting and felt like home. The weight of his body on yours was a reminder that you were very real and very loved.

“Wanna watch YellowJackets?” He whispered, knowing that you had a strange fascination with Jeff. When you had first watched it, you had thought that the man was your husband due to them looking so similar. He didn’t see it. You wondered if he had a twin named Warren that he either didn’t know or didn’t tell you about.

“Absolutely.” You mused, watching him sit up and lie down on the other side of the couch. He invited you over to lay next to him, your body pressed against his. You could feel his body pressed against yours, his arm snaking around your waist in order to hold you tight.

“This feels…out of character for you.” You told him, looking around at the pillows and blankets strewn all over the place. You were right, he would never usually do this for you…what changed? You turned your body over to face him, his features changing from resting to deep thought and finally, a loving look that said more than words. “I had a…realisation at work today. Nothing big but…my time with you is precious. I don’t want to constantly be Graves around you…I want to be Phillip. And Phillip doesn’t want his husband to come home to no comfort after what I heard was a shitty day.” He told you, moving his hand to hold your face, gently moving his thumb up and down your features. He was right, this was Phillip. Not Commander Graves that you knew so well...the Phillip who you married.

“Romantic.” You murmured, going in for a kiss. He reciprocated, holding you as your lips touched. It was a shitty day, but you were pretty sure this man could make anything better if he put the effort in. He was just like that.

____

Long after you had fallen asleep and he had turned the TV off, Phillip lay awake, still holding you close to him. You were facing him, so he was able to study your features. God, you were so handsome. In his eyes, there was literally no one else more beautiful than you (and he’s met Gaz so that is huge.) His eyes looked over your lips, your perfect nose, your closed eyes and soft breathing as you slept. Could he have anyone more perfect than you?

“I am so lucky…” He whispered, moving a hand to rest against your cheek, caressing your face. 

“You are so easy to love…and I was not. And yet you loved me anyways…god, I don’t deserve you.” He mumbled, a small smile on his face as he spoke to himself. He wanted you to hear him say that…but he didn’t think he was ready to admit this stuff aloud. The Phillip you knew was still under a protective layer of Graves.

“You are also very easy to please…and you’re a great cuddler…you’re just…amazing.” He told you, almost waiting for you to open your eyes and reveal you were awake the whole time.

“And…I want to be there for you more.” He continued to whisper, the ring finger on his hand suddenly feeling a whole lot heavier than it did before. He took a breath, ready to say it aloud for the first time.

“I want people to know we’re married. I don’t want this to be hidden anymore…I want to tell my shadows, I want to wear my wedding ring to work…I want to be romantic with you publicly. I don’t want to hide you anymore.” He admitted, a small tear in his eyes forming. “Starting tomorrow…I will be Phillip…the Phillip that loves you and wants you to know. The Phillip that isn't scared anymore.” He affirmed, the tears now rolling down his face. You continued to sleep, you dumbass, not knowing that this man was confessing his heart out to you right now. But not in the way he did when you were both nineteen. 

A small kiss on your forehead was felt, making your unconscious form form a small smile, before he wrapped his arms around you and fell asleep, feeling like he had gotten such a big weight off of his chest…and he had.

____

“I’m headed out. I'll be home late tonight so don’t wait for me.” He told you as you entered the kitchen, having gotten dressed into your own work clothes.

“M’kay. Love you handsome. Thankyou for last night.” You smiled, walking up to him and kissing him on the lips. He nodded, then turned to go and leave the house, opening and closing the door…and he was gone. 

You took a sigh, holding up your wedding ring hand. You also took it off every morning before work. It was something you hated doing but…you understood it was not ideal to be queer in your work environment. You took off the golden ring, moving over to the small wooden tray in the kitchen where you both placed yours every morning. You placed it down next to…no. His wasn’t there. He had taken his own to work. A wave of serotonin rushed through you as you realised what he had done. 

You picked yours back up, a moment of hesitance. Do you take yours with you as well, or put it back? If he was brave enough to do the act, why weren’t you?

A moment of thought, tossing the ring back and forth in your hands. Then, you made your choice.

HAHAHA SCREW YOU. CLIFFHANGER.  This is like inception. It's up to interpretationnnnn~.

[menlove]

just remembered that doctor who really did actually make mclennon save the world with the power of gay love and music. like that wasn't a fever dream. I did actually watch that on television

[rockstarlwt28]

A ROad and A ROmance to self discovery

Louis Tomlinson, a motivational speaker for the LGBTQ plus community finds himself confronted with a student who is determined to derail his presentation. Reaching boiling point and landing in hot water, Louis seeks out a place of serenity. A welcomed presence of additional tranquillity and renowned first class student Harry Styles, accompanies him.

wrriten for @1daroaceficfest

[shima-draws]

Someone ACTUALLY just tried to tell me that it’s more “morally acceptable” to ship Luffy and Hancock than it is to ship Sanlu. Are you for REALLLLLL

[elumish]

Pro tip: if you're thinking about using terms like "gay panic" in your writing/AO3 tags please do at least 5 minutes of research to understand what the term actually means and why you shouldn't use it to refer to, say, someone panicking about they themselves being gay.

[prolibytherium]

Reverse is like when a (historical-ish or not) fantasy setting kind of implies itself to have a homophobic or misogynist societal outlook where like you get characters talking About being isolated or unaccepted for their romantic/sexual interests or how they're meant to be more than a housewife or etc, but you never really see much societal enforcement of these norms whatsoever beyond the broadest strokes of 'marriage is between men and women and women are supposed to be housewives, probably?'. Like it's just a vast open space for readers to project homophobia and misogyny on, but lacking in any real exploration or engagement.

Like I'm not saying like 'put in a gaybashing' and it doesn't have to be (and probably Shouldn't be) 24/7 pain and suffering and anguish, but if you want arcs about characters struggling with their sexuality or marginalized gender roles there should probably be more than just a loose implication of something they have to struggle Against.

[the-sappho-of-lesbos]

More wild pulp fiction things

[salroka]

I was just reminded that straight Dorian mods exist and I'm so angry. How can you play his personal quest and listen to his voice cracking as he says "He tried to change me" and think that doing that is okay???

[sarahowritesostucky]

Manip GIF by @odetolove95

📖"I Prefer Girls Who're Not Afraid to Cry"

That’s what Chris does - he worries. He worries that someday someone will catch on to what they do, what they’ve been doing for years. That someday, someone will be in the wrong place at the wrong time, with the wrong intentions, and snap a picture of something that can’t be explained away as an interaction between friends and costars.

Rated: Mature

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Chris Evans (Sebastian x ofc)

Word Count: 4439

Tags: light dom/sub, dom Sebastian Stan, Sub Chris Evans, slight internalized homophobia, secret relationship, discussions of threesomes and polyamory, flirting, touching through clothes, teasing

Summary: Sebastian and Chris reconnect to discuss the possibility of sharing a woman and living their life in the open.

A.N.: this isn't shading Alba at all. It was written when Chris had just barely started to date her.

📖"I Prefer Girls Who're Not Afraid to Cry"

Part one highly recommended to be read first!

Sebastian’s in the middle of taking a dump when he hears his phone out in the kitchen. “Ah, crap.”

(Literally.)

But then the familiar ringtone registers, and he calms down, knowing that he’s not missing an important business call from his agent or some director. He craps in peace.

He brews himself another coffee and takes it into the livingroom, sinking down on his couch with a happy sigh. He checks his phone. There’s a text from Bo already. He’d stuck her in a town car not thirty minutes ago, with a kiss and a murmured command of, “Let me know when you’re home safe.” 

Given her proclivity for being a good girl, Sebastian is unsurprised to find her sweet and adorably obedient: “Safe and sound. Last night was amazing 😘😊,” waiting in their text thread.

"Good girl," he murmurs. He's still smiling over her, as he pulls up the last call received and taps the screen to call him back.

He picks up on the second ring. “Hey.” He sounds breathless over the line, must be working out. There’s some new project he’s signed on for, some historical drama with shirtless scenes.

“Hey,” Sebastian says. “You busy? I can call back.”

“No, no, it’s fine. Hang on.” There’s movement on the other end of the line, and a few seconds later it sounds like his face is pressed more firmly to the receiver. He’s settled somewhere, and his breath isn’t labored anymore.

“Are you still in the city?”

“Yeah. They’ve got three still in the running for the female lead, want me to do chemistry reads to narrow it down. Casting needs me for another few days." There's a pause. "... I thought I might stay a bit longer, though. See the sights.”

Sebastian hums, pleased. “You should.” In the distant background, he thinks he can hear weight plates being moved around. “Are you ... are you actually at a gym?”

His sigh crackles over the line, displeased. “The fifty-third street Equinox.”

“Wow.” Sebastian snickers. “And look: you’ve survived!”

“Don’t jinx it. Nobody’s bothered me. Yet.”

Sebastian still laughs about it. He doesn’t mind public gyms himself, but then again, he’s much more of a showoff (and not nearly as famous). “Do you want to go to lunch?” he asks, eyes slipping closed, digging his skull back into the couch cushion. “I’ve got something I want to talk to you about.”

“Sorry, can’t. I’ve got meetings all afternoon.”

“Pfff. 'Course.” There goes Sebastian's excuse for skipping his own workout. He pokes at his abs. “I need to go for a run.”

Over the line, there’s the sound of water being gulped, and then a hopeful, “Dinner though?”

“Sure. Where?”

“Well, I was thinking that dark place. Georgie’s?”

Sebastian bites his lip, tickled at what he knows that means. Georgia’s is an obscenely expensive and very private Italian joint. It’s got dark corners, discreet staff, and cozy leather booths. … And it’s less than two blocks from Sebastian’s building. Still, he pretends to complain, teasing, “You don’t ask for much, do ya, Evans?”

Chris chuckles lowly, and the sound goes straight to Sebastian’s cock. “What, you think I’m easy, Stan?”

“I know you are.”

“Gotta make you work for it. I want you to wine and dine me.”

That’s not all you want me to do, Sebastian thinks. “I think I can manage that. Dessert after?"

"Always."

That low voice, purred into the receiver, is enough to have Sebastian's cock pulsing in interest. He sinks lower on the couch, right hand roaming over his leg, up to the crease of his inner thigh. “Eight o’clock?” he asks, cupping himself. Maybe he’ll jerk off before he runs.

“You damn Europeans and your middle of the night dinner times.”

“Shut up and come get cultured,” he says, throwing on an accent thicker than any he’s naturally spoken with in decades. It makes Chris giggle, which lights Sebastian up. “Seven,” he concedes, and Chris agrees. Neither one of them mentions the fact that they're going to wind up back at Sebastian’s place, after; that 'dessert' is just a euphemism for what they get up to together once they're alone. Sebastian all but confirms it when he says, “You can stay?”

“Yeah. The night.”

“The week,” he corrects.

Chris stays silent, and Sebastian can practically hear him worrying. “Well … I’ve got all my luggage, though.”

“So? Bring it.”

“Production’s put me up at the Conrad …”

Sebastian rolls his eyes. “You gonna turn me down for the friggin' Conrad? Naw. Check out of your hotel, bring your luggage here. I don’t get to see you enough. I miss you.”

“Seb,” Chris says, sounding tempted, but wary. “What if somebody—”

“You haven’t been doing press, so nobody knows you’re in town. Come on. Have you even seen cameras?”

“... No,” he admits, still sounding worried. But that’s what Chris does: he worries. He worries that someday someone will catch on to what they do, what they’ve been doing, off and on, for years. That someday, someone will be in the wrong place at the wrong time, with the wrong intentions, and snap a picture of something that can’t be explained away as an interaction between friends and costars. Last year, Chris' agent had sat him down and said something to him about it.

But Sebastian just calmly commands him again, “Come stay with me. It’ll be fine.”

“... Okay.”

His heart melts at the give in Chris’ voice, the trust. He’s a bit like Bohdana, in that regard. Sometimes Chris just needs to let it all go and let somebody else be in charge for a little while. And Sebastian knows how hard it is for him to do that, knows what it means, that Chris lets him be the one he surrenders to. “Hey,” he says fondly. “Be brave, little toaster. I’ll see you tonight.”

Chris snorts, Sebastian hums, and they end the call that way. Sebastian closes his eyes and sips the rest of his coffee with his hand still on his dick, feeling peaceful, considering jacking off. It’s probably nearing noon by now. He should go get his workout over with, but he isn’t in the mood to rush, too wrapped up in his thoughts about Chris. And Bo.

He’d bid her farewell slowly and lazily. She’d been so sweet in his bed that morning, all mussed hair and shy smiles and soft curves. Sebastian had thoroughly enjoyed the gentle, intimate process of kissing her awake and cuddling her between the sheets, speaking in decibels only used by lovers, reassuring her that she was perfect and that what they’d done was good, and right, that he wasn’t going to discard her now that he'd had her—all things that he'd known she needed to hear.

It’s been a long time since Sebastian’s been with a woman so beautifully needy. Bo’s no virgin. He can see that she clearly knows what she likes. But there’s a virginal quality to her that tells Sebastian she’s obviously never been treated right by a man, and she’s never been handled by one at all. That doesn’t make him mad or indignant on her behalf. Rather, it excites him.

Excites him, because that means he gets to be her first in more ways than one. He’s thinking about the sight of her laid out on his bed and whimpering so sweetly, as he slips his hand under the waistband of his pajama pants. He plays with his dick lightly, getting harder, remembering his time with Bohdana last night and imagining how it would’ve been if Chris had been there with them.

Would he just want to watch, that first time? Sebastian thinks maybe he would. Chris is hesitant sometimes. He’s careful, mindful of other people’s judgements and expectations, mindful of himself. If Bo wasn’t overtly, aggressively sexual with him right out of the gate (which she likely wouldn’t be), then Sebastian knows Chris would move to the side, sit in a chair and watch, eventually touching himself while Sebastian took Bo apart on the bed.

He jerks off to the fantasy, picturing something very close to what really happened last night. Only in this version, some of his attention would be on Chris, too; glancing over at him while his hand is between Bo’s legs, smirking and tossing her panties his way, looking straight at him as he fingers her to climax. Maybe he'd decide to eat her out and make her come that way, too. He knows he'd go over to Chris, then; kiss him with his face still messy, give him a taste of her. Oh, and he can just imagine the look Chris would get on his face, if Seb could make her squirt in front of him. Fuck, he thinks, he could even drag Chris over and make him watch up close. He could teach him.

He comes with a low grunt, most of the mess contained inside his pajama pants. He pulls them off and wipes himself with a sated sigh, then goes to chuck them in the hamper. He starts the shower water running and shoots off a quick text to Don to see if he’s free for a run. Sebastian always pushes a little harder than he does when jogging alone. He hops in the shower, already in an excellent mood.

This thing with Chris, this “thing” that they don’t put a name to, has been going on for a long time. Sometimes Sebastian forgets just how long. (How many years ago were they shooting Winter Soldier? Ten? Jesus, they’re getting old.)

Ten years since that first kiss: middle of August in a trailer in Atlanta, boiling temperatures, boiling tensions, and Chris shoving him away with a “What the fuck man? I’m not gay!” 

Eight years since that second kiss: another trailer, a better kiss, this time with Sebastian so bulked up that he could easily wrestle Chris’ anger away.

Seven years since that first night: Salt Lake Comic Con, Chris busting into his hotel room, drunk and belligerent and falling to his knees to suck him off.

Yeah, Sebastian thinks, it’d turned into a regular thing after Salt Lake. So, seven. Seven years of fitting in moments together. Between cities, movies, relationships, the demands of friends and fans and family. Using their phones when the months upon months of separation pile up—texting the safe stuff and snapchatting the not so safe stuff. Missing each other but never admitting it, and certainly never saying I Love You. They live two separate lives, lives that don’t have space for them to make their “thing” any more than it is. Certainly not a relationship.

Sexuality’s a spectrum, and he and Chris each have their place somewhere on it. Sebastian knows they both fall way closer to the straight end of that spectrum than most men who’re sleeping with other men do, but not far enough to not warrant caution. Because being gay isn’t conducive to what they do for a living.

Oh, Hollywood is very accepting of those things socially, but the fastest way to kill a career as a leading man in film is to announce that you’re into dick. Roles dry up fast once you’re openly gay. It’s not homophobia, it’s marketing. No director is going to cast a guy for a blockbuster role if the audience can’t buy him as straight. Action, romance, and even in most drama films; sex is what’s being sold. Straight sex, to straight people, and a leading man is the main product. Women need to be able to picture themselves with him, men need to be able to picture themselves as him. That’s the business.

It’s something both Sebastian and Chris have had to come to grips with. Girlfriends but not wives are always encouraged. Hell, Chris’ agent even sets him up on the occasional date. Emily is a little more hands off with Sebastian, thank goodness. But she's made comments in the past about all the gay roles he’s taken on in his work— “One is fine, two starts to look suspicious, three’s a pattern," has been sure to let him know that he’d better be visibly pursuing women in the meanwhile. So he’s gotten into the habit of dating models. It’s helped to increase his sex appeal and cement him as a desirable lead for films, or so says Emily. Sebastian gets it, but it’s still annoying to hear his manager talk it up with such importance. He likes to think he gets roles because he’s a good actor. Imagine that.

He can’t even remember how many times Chris used to call him, back in the early days, upset and saying that they needed to stop doing what they were doing. An … interpretable picture had come out that showed the two of them embracing at a party. Now they’re careful. They’ve crafted a narrative and fed the media enough to ensure that they’re depicted as best friends, born from over a decade spent making movies together. Magazines print it, YouTube has compilation videos of it. No other pictures have ever come out.

Sebastian stands outside the restaurant and waits. He spots Chris coming down the sidewalk and smiles widely. They haven’t seen each other in months. Chris’ beard is gone.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

He can’t pull him in and kiss him like he wants to. He keeps his hands shoved in his pockets as they greet each other warmly. “Should we go in?” Chris asks, eyes roving up and down Sebastian, taking him in. “You look good.”

“Look who’s talking, Mr. Sexiest Man Alive,” Sebastian says, because he knows it’ll make him blush. It does.

Chris’ cheeks get gloriously pink and he shoves Sebastian’s shoulder as they go through the restaurant’s doors, laughing and telling him to shut the fuck up. The hostess gets a little wide-eyed when she realizes who’s standing in front of her. Sebastian’s not sure she knows who he is, but she definitely recognizes Mr. 2022. She can’t peel her eyes from Chris, and she gets real smiley, real fast, leading them back to the darkest, most tucked away booth in the house when Chris winks at her and requests 'someplace private'. “Your server will be right with you,” she gushes, seeming almost hesitant to go back to her hostessing duties. It’s cute, and it gives Sebastian more fodder for teasing once she finally does retreat.

“Gonna miss the beard though,” he muses, looking Chris over. He looks younger without it, always does. They settle in and ask the server for their usual; a bottle of wine and every appetizer on the menu. Sebastian was on chicken breast protocol not too long ago, so it’s a relief to be ordering calamari and bread and snails soaked in butter. He talks about the muscle he’s been able to put back on since his last role, how he thinks the weight loss aged him and he’s considering Botox. Chris talks about the table reads he’s in town for and the film he’s been forcing himself into public gyms for. He votes No for Botox.

“Seventeen-seventies,” Sebastian muses, once their food has come and he’s fishing out an escargot from its shell. “So like, breeches and wigs? Big puffy shirts?” He smirks across the table. “I can just picture it.”

Chris shakes his head at him, but he’s smiling. He likes being teased by Sebastian, and Sebastian knows this. “I’m getting nervous about it,” he confides. “I have to do an accent, which you know is not my forte. Then there’s the sex scenes.”

Sebastian can sympathize. He’s also shit at accents (other than those from Soviet bloc countries), and he’s done plenty of nudity. Full frontal, even. There’s really no way to make it not awful. And sex scenes are even worse: A film crew staring at your asscheeks and a bandaid taped over your junk while you pretend to give it to some chick. Sebastian would rather scoot around Athens naked a dozen times before having to do imitation thrusts. “There’ll be an intimacy coordinator,” he tries to console. “Talk to them.”

“Eh, they’re for the women.”

“They’re for everybody,” Sebastian corrects. “I’ve had my dick out enough to know.”

“Yeah you have.”

He points his teeny escargot fork across the table, stern. “They’re not just for the women.”

Chris reaches for his wine. “Speaking of women,” he segues. Their table is very secluded and the surrounding area dark, so much so that personal conversation feels safe, tucked away as they are in their little corner. “I ah, I broke it off with Alba.”

Sebastian’s eyebrows raise. “Oh?” He’d forgotten her name, but knows who Chris is talking about. “Why?” he asks, trying not to let his enthusiasm show. “I thought you liked her.”

Chris shrugs, looking down about it. “I did. I do. She’s sweet, but she’s borderline Gen Z, you know? She made some comment about Titanic being a “vintage” movie. It was too much.”

Sebastian nods. He gets it. And even though he’s happy to hear he has Chris all to himself again, he’s also sorry for him, because he knows how much the other man wants love, wants a family. They’ve never talked about their futures with other people. It’s just been an unspoken assumption on both their parts that eventually they’ll end up married with kids, no longer able to accommodate their “thing.”

But that’s part of this new idea that’s been percolating in the back of Sebastian’s brain. It’s not concrete, just a possibility, but being with Bo has put the idea into his head that maybe he could have his cake and eat it too, and maybe so could Chris. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” he says, forcing himself to be bold. He meets Chris’ eyes. “Women, that is.”

“Oh yeah, how’d it go with that ah, that model you were seeing?” he asks, forced levity in his tone.

It makes Sebastian want to reach over and take his hand. Instead, he nudges their feet together under the table. “Hey.” He waits for Chris to meet his eyes again. “Bohdana,” he reminds gently. He hasn’t given Chris many details, but they have a policy of always telling each other about who they’re sleeping with. “She’s good. I really like her. She stayed over last night.”

Chris smiles. He’s trying. “That’s great, man.” He looks down again, sips his wine.

“Chris, look at me.”

He keeps his gaze on the table, focuses on choosing another few pieces from their various appetizers. “So, it’s getting serious?”

“Hey,” Sebastian says quietly, stern. “I told you to look at me.” Chris’ eyes snap up. Sebastian shakes his head. “It’s not serious. Not yet.”

“Oh?”

“Yet.” Beneath the table he slides his foot up, rubbing his ankle against Chris’. “She’s sweet,” he murmurs, holding his gaze. “Funny, gorgeous. Just wants a man to take care of her, though she tries not to let it show. And the way she responds to me is …” he trails off, letting the lack of words and his expression do the talking. He can see that Chris gets it. “And I think she wants kids. She’s said a few things in general conversation.”

Chris’ lips tick up. “Sounds like the whole package,” he says, thinking he’s hiding it well. But he’s as see-through as cellophane to Sebastian.

“Not quite. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” He waits, takes a sip or two of his wine before he delves into the idea that’s been taking shape in his mind. He tells him delicately, “I think you should meet her.”

Chris immediately makes a face. “Why?”

“Hear me out.” He knows this has the potential to be a hard sell. “I think you’ll like her. She’s very pretty, you know. Nice skin, brown hair and dark eyes, cute face, petite. Just like you like ‘em.”

Chris is chewing something in his mouth. He chews it round and round, staring, thinking. He swallows and guesses, “... You want a threesome?”

“No. More than that.” Beneath the table, Sebastian slips his loafer off. “I want you to meet her. I think you’ll really like her.”

A shiver visibly runs through Chris’ body when Sebastian’s foot has made it all the way up his thigh, to the apex of his legs. “I don’t know what secret code you think you’re speaking in here, Seb,”

“I want us to share her.”

“Jesus—That’s what I just said."

“Need me to help you with that attitude?” Sebastian purrs. Chris’s eyes widen minutely at the threat, then go heavy-lidded. Sebastian smiles. “Hm?”

“I don’t think, it’d be a good idea,” he says, every word clipped and measured, controlling himself. “I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off. And the way we look at each other? She’d know.”

“That’s the idea,” Sebastian counters, sly. “Chris: we both like women, we both want that life—a family, home, kids. And we want each other. We’ve been separating ourselves into these different pieces, but maybe we don’t have to. Why not do it together? All of it?” Understanding starts to dawn on Chris’ face, and Sebastian nods. “Yes. You and me, and her.”

Chris' lips work a few times, speechless. “You want—”

“I want us to share her. Sexually, romantically, domestically. A life. Together.”

It takes a long few moments. First Chris just blinks at him, and then he scoffs out a mean little laugh, masking his nerves. Sebastian waits. Chris lifts his wine glass and gulps half of it down. He sets it down a little too roughly on the table. “You’ve been on what, two dates with this girl? Have you floated this little plan by her?”

“Six dates. And no I haven’t, but I will. And I think she’ll say yes.”

He scoffs and drinks more wine. He’s acting angry, but Sebastian can see him thinking it over, afraid to get his hopes up. “What about you and me?” he says. “People would know that we’re together. It’s still the same problem.”

Sebastian holds up a finger. “Ah, not quite.”

“How do you figure?”

“First of all, we wouldn’t have to come out about it right away. One of us could go public with her as his girlfriend, and since you and I are best hetero buds, it still wouldn’t be anything unusual for the three of us to be seen together.” Underneath the table, he lifts his leg, using his socked foot to massage Chris’ thigh. “Nothing scandalous. Then, one day—maybe not for years and years, who knows?—but one day, we come out as a throuple.”

Chris’ eyebrows go sky high. “A ‘throuple’?” he repeats.

“That’s what the kids are calling it these days. Polyamory, it’s all the rage.”

The eyebrows come down, replaced by a scowl. “Oh Seb, come on. Be serious,” he groans. The sound cuts off, however, when Sebastian’s foot presses up warningly against his balls.

“I am being serious,” he coos, voice like velvet. “What about that plan doesn’t sound perfect to you?”

Chris licks his lips. “Well she’d have to agree to it.”

“She will.”

“You don't know that. And I haven’t even met her.”

“Actually, you have.” Sebastian grins, excited to reveal this last bit. “She told me about it: how you two ran into each other at the gym.” When he sees that Chris is still confused, he elaborates, “She stumbled into you while you were lifting? You sat her down and force fed her juice and crackers?”

Chris’ lips part as he puts two and two together. “It was a granola bar,” he says weakly, and Sebastian’s heart flares with fondness for him.

“I talked about you with her. Briefly. Told her how you were my best friend, how we're very close." Chris snorts. "And she told me about how she thought you were cute, flirted with you, even gave you her number. I think she felt guilty for the flirting. It was like she was confessing it to me: her lust for another man.” With lighter pressure, he slowly rubs his foot against the crotch of Chris’ pants. His eyes bore into him while he does it, smirking, holding him with his gaze. “You’re getting hard,” he whispers.

“Y-yeah.” Chris looks like he’s really considering Sebastian’s proposal now, the anxiety in his face slowly being replaced by interest, disbelief … and maybe hope. “This is crazy,” he breathes. “Seb ...”

“I know,” Sebastian soothes. “I know it is. But we could do it—have each other, and our woman, and a family. Everything. A certain amount of privacy can be bought, and you have the money for it. Nobody would know until we want them to know. And even then, there’d be no reason for people not to assume it’s a M/F/M arrangement, with that F firmly in between the M’s. He tilts his head and watches as Chris absorbs everything he's saying. Gently, he massages his foot over his dick. Chris shivers. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“... You really think we can pull that off?”

“We’ve crafted a narrative before,” he offers. It’s not like it’s hard. All they’d have to do is act the part when they’re in public, call the paps on themselves when it’s convenient—both things they’ve already been doing for years. “So what do you say? You want to give it a try, come over and meet her one night? Feel her out?”

Chris has a brightness in his eyes as he thinks it through, and soon a smile sparks—hesitant at first, but growing. Under the table, his hand curls over the top of Sebastian’s foot and gives a squeeze, pressing it firmer against his erection. Sebastian moans quietly. Then, to his utter joy, Chris nods and says, “Let’s do it.”

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[lil-gae-disaster]

about a week or so into Jonathans and Frederick's elationship (my man has issues):

F: "[...] I cannot believe what we are doing. How can I do such as that without any anxious and conscious thought."

J: "I am able to withdraw my affections should you desire them to seize."

F: "I do not wish for them to stop. They have made my life the brightest it has been in a long time, I am grateful that you have deemed me worthy enough to be receiving of your love. But, I must say, I do not understand why I do not feel towards women like others do. What has my previous incarnation done to condemn me to love who law and society does not want me to love? Why must I endure this suffering? I do not wish for it to be any different, but I have yet to understand what I have done to lack the ability to love lady's as much as gentlemen"

J: "I love and care for you dearly, my love. It pains me that you paint yourself and your own, independent, individual human experience in lesser colors than the experience of other men around. You have been gifted a rare gift, as have I. We are able to see the world through a lense not many can. I wish for your heart to realize such one day."

.....

Then they cuddled and fell asleep

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