#queer period piece | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

justgottafinishthischapter · 2 years

Text

Writing Worlds: Homosexuality in Historical Settings

As someone who loves period romances and craves romantic relationships between queer men, it’s very alluring to write queer romances set against the backdrop of historical settings and time periods. But, due to the treatment of homosexuality for a lot of our world’s history, it can make it tricky to know the best way to handle this topic. Consider this to be a sister post to go along with my Writing Romance: Courting post. The two go hand-in-hand.

ESCAPISM VS REALISM

The first hurdle is to decide whether your story is an escapist fantasy or favors realism. In an escapist historical queer romance, the queerness is simply not an issue. The prince can flat out tell his parents to arrange his marriage to male suitors, and the only real reaction is his mother immediately listing off good matches for him. The conflict has nothing to do with the fact that the relationship is between two same-sex characters, and would work just as well for a heterosexual romance story. With an escapist fantasy, you can show the Count of Yorkshire navigating the hardships of courting by having multiple young men vying for his hand, or the whirlwind romance as he catches the eye of the Duke of Orleans. And this romance can be just as open and public as any straight relationship. This option would fall under Historical Romanticism, the term used for when historical settings are made to be more idyllic and favorable than they likely were in real life. The only media where this approach tends to show up often is Fantasy, in worlds where homophobia simply never really existed. The Elder Scrolls is one such setting where male gods are married to one another, other gods change genders and pronouns as they like, and your player character is free to romance anyone of any gender as well as adopt without anyone making biggotted remarks.

On the other hand, Realism in a Historical Queer Romance is going to come prepackaged with a lot of tension and angst, as it’s automatically a forbidden romance. Because homophobia is a real issue that real queer people deal with, having queer characters deal with these issues can help your queer audience feel seen as these fictional characters can relate to their own life experiences. It’s also just more historically accurate to have queer lovers needing to tiptoe around behind people’s backs and hoping they don’t get caught. However, due to this prejudice, it’s also very easy for such settings and stories to come off as depressing, and can perpetuate unpleasant tropes in queer media, such as Bury Your Gays, Unhappily Ever After, and downer Nomance endings. Because their relationship isn’t “appropriate” for public eyes, it makes it hard for the couple to have a truly happy ending. For someone who’s tired of dealing with homophobia in their own life, or it just being present in almost all queer media, it can be tedious for those who want an escape to enjoy two guys smooching while looking dapper in period costumes.

Homosexuality and Religion

As a medieval historian, I actually did a full research paper on homosexuality in the middle ages as a part of my final for one of my medieval history classes. I still have the paper saved, so let me share an abridged version. Pagan cultures might have had some issues with homosexuality, such as the Norse favoring the “tops” over the “bottoms”, a sentiment shared by both the Greeks and Romans. However compared to later eras of history, these Pre-Christian cultures had little problems with same-sex relationships. Every Greek God but Ares, Hephaestus, and Hades had at least 1 male lover, Emperor Hadrian had his boy-toy Antinous deified after he drowned in the Nile, and the Sacred Band of Thebes was made up entirely of same-sex lovers. The idea that homosexuality was wrong only emerged with Christianity. Just... not as soon as you’d think. Christianity became a wide-spread faith across Europe around about 300 AD, mostly spread by Constantine’s deathbed conversion to Christianity. However, it would not be until the 12th century that homosexuality as a sin would emerge. This shift first started during what is known as the Medieval Renaissance when Christian theologians like St. Ambrose, St. Augustine, and St. Jerome altered the theological discourse on sin and virtue. Prior to the Medieval Renaissance, the mindset was that simply being Christian and accepting Christ as one’s savior was all it took to get into Heaven. After the Medieval Renaissance, the focus shifted to individual sin and the worthiness of the individual soul. They came to view Earth as sort of a testing grounds or waiting room, and any temporary Earthly pleasure was a wicked temptation sent by Satan to lead men astray. How you did on the test impacted whether you passed or failed. One thing that was declared a sin was fornication without the prospect of procreation. And this went for everyone. Any sexual act that would not result in childbirth was a sin, because you were doing it for the pleasure, not for the purposes of making a baby. Furthermore, any position except Missionary was also sinful, again in an attempt to limit pleasure. Since cis-gendered homosexuals cannot procreate, any homosexual acts were universally labeled as a sin by happenstance. Later in 1179, Peter Comestor proposed to the Third Lateran Council a link between the biblical condemnation of sodomy with explicitly condemning homosexuals, and not just anal fornication as a whole, even stating that clerks found guilty of this act should be removed from office, and laymen should be excommunicated from the church. It is Peter Comestor and his stance on homosexuality that truly caused homosexuality to be labeled as a sin on principal, and is why so many modern Christians still believe homosexual relationships are sinful by nature. However, it’s worth pointing out that the time from when Christianity was a widespread faith in Europe (approx. 300 AD) to the Third Lateran Council (1179) is a span of 879 years. As of this point in 2023, the time between Comestor’s condemnation of homosexuality and the present is only 844 years. Meaning that Christianity has a longer history of tolerating homosexuality than it has condemning it. I say all of this because in any setting where Christianity is not a part of the worldbuilding, there is no reason to have homophobia, unless you replace Christianity with a similarly homophobic fictional religion, as George RR Martin does with the Faith of the Seven in A Song of Ice and Fire. As for Judaism and Islam, I’m at a loss there. My studies didn’t really lead me to those topics, and I can’t offer much insight there.

Handwaving Escapist Diversity

Let’s be real, we can’t even cast People of Color in fantasy stories without racists crapping their pants, so unfortunately, we’re going to face similar problems having queer couples openly courting each other in a historical setting. But, there are a few ways around this where we can have our cake and eat it too without the homophobes being able to hide behind “historic accuracy” as a reason to have a problem with queer romances in historical periods. It’s all about the genre. Let’s look at some of the genres we can use.

Historical Fiction: This is the base form. Any period piece is going to be historical fiction. However, Historical Fiction comes in a wide array. Historical Romanticism is the lighter approach, simply putting make-up on the era to make it more palatable and appealing. Think of Bridgerton where the dresses are shaped historically and the characters behave historically, but the Queen is a woman of color, and the dress materials are far more colorful and bright than they would have been at the time. It’s still the Regency era, just with a bit of rouge. On the other hand, there’s Alternate History. Historical settings where a major deviation has occurred in the timeline. Whether the Roman Empire never fell, the British crushed the American Revolution and took over the entire world, Christianity never caught on and the Roman Pantheon is the most widespread belief system, or the industrial revolution exploded even harder, resulting in a more Steampunk vibe. A major upheaval has altered the face of history, and your queer romance is set in an utterly changed world with a different timeline.

Steampunk: As I just touched on, your world can be more technologically advanced, however, Steampunk can also be a genre for completely fictional worlds, giving you a great way to have a story set in an era with an 1880s - 1910s aesthetic, but easily exist as it own world with its own history and values where homosexual relationships aren’t a problem. Steampunk is also the most optimistic and aesthetically oriented of the science-fiction -Punk genres, compared to the much bleaker and more cynical outlooks of Cyberpunk, Diesel Punk, and Gothic Punk.

Gaslamp Fantasy: Basically, Steampunk but with fantastical elements. It keeps that late Victorian - Edwardian aesthetic, but adds magic, faeries, dragons, vampires, etc. Now, Steampunk leans more Sci-fi, while Gaslamp Fantasy is more well.... Fantasy, so Gaslamp Fantasy does tend to lose some of the technological aspects of Steampunk, but it can also overlap with Magitech, a subgenre where machinery is powered and propelled by magical energy. So, you can very well have a Steampunk Gaslamp Fantasy where all of the steam and gears and machinery is powered by magic. It’ still Steampunk, so long as that train is powered by shoveling magic energy crystals into the furnace, instead of coal. Howl’s Moving Castle is a good example of how the two can coexist. There are normal trains as we see in Sophie’s town, but we also see Howl’s castle which can move because of Calcipher, a fire demon that needs to constantly eat a fuel source of one kind or another. The world is full of witches, magic, and curses, but there’s also muskets, trains, airplanes, zeppelins, and a castle that spews steam and smoke as it wanders the countryside.

Paranormal Romance: Especially common with Vampires, but the fallout of Twilight and Alpha/Beta/Omegas in pop culture has also led to a rising interest in Werewolf stories, and a recent trend has also swept Faeries into the pop culture spotlight as well. All three offer stories where one or both of your characters is an immortal (or very long-lived) individual. Perhaps their world is homophobic now, but when they met and fell in love, it was perfectly acceptable. Perhaps being alive for 800 years piqued the main character’s curiosity and they decided to give it a try. The long history of homosexuals being demonized has led to a large percentage of queer people identifying with the monsters and villains of media, causing them to see themselves in the hated monsters, demons, and vampires that threaten the heterosexual heroes of old.

Historical Fantasy: For everything else that’s not within that Victorian-Edwardian window, Historical Fantasy has you covered. From Cyclopes and Sirens in Ancient Greece to Dragons and Goblins in Medieval France, or a mermaid ending up in an Americana freak show, this pretty much covers ever kind of fantasy romance in a historical setting that’s not covered by Paranormal Romance or Gaslamp Fantasy.

Renaissance Punk: It’s like Steampunk, but the world’s technology resembles the contraptions of Leonardo Da Vinci, as opposed to the clockwork, gears, and steam aesthetic plastered onto the turn of the 20th century that Steampunk offers. Also called Da Vinci Punk.

Space Punk: If you’re wanting to lean more Sci-fi, you can do Space Punk. Think Treasure Planet, though I could also call that Sail Punk. It has a very Victorian clothing and technological aesthetic, but then space is full of a breathable Ethereum, and even Doctor Doppler’s “space suit” looks closer to an old-timey diver’s suit. But the ship has solar sails, the mast charges up with a power source that propels the ship into space, lockets project holograms of still photographs, cybernetic prosthetics are technologically advanced, and aliens are a common sight, even for the poorest commoner.

Same-Sex Courting for Escapist Romance

I touched on this in my Writing Romance: Courting post, but I’ll cover it again because it’s especially applicable here. The rules of courting in the 1800s relied heavily on gender roles. So, how does one make sense of courting rules when the couple are the same sex? The basic rule of thumb is that whoever is higher in status is the one to be chased, while the one of lower class does the chasing. If a Duke is looking for a husband, does the Duke chase Viscounts or do Viscounts chase the Duke? Always, the Viscounts chase the Duke. A Duke is a valuable husband, a prize catch those Viscounts would want to have. What if the romance is between two men of equal class? Two Dukes falling in love? The one who would take the more passive role is likely to be whichever is higher in the line of succession. During the courting phase, an elligible queer bachelor is likely to recieve many gentlemen callers. They would come to the bachelor’s house where his family could keep an eye on him, and judge his prospects. They would bring gifts and trinkets, and sit in the tea room, sewing room, drawing room, or whatever room is used to entertain guests. Gentlemen callers would then talk with the bachelor, recite poetry, play the piano, or whatever else they could to impress the bachelor and his family. Again, as I said before, the one being visited by gentlemen callers is whoever is higher up in the chain of nobility. The Duke’s family is going to scrutinize every gentleman who calls on their son, while the Baron’s family is going to urge him to call on every queer man who outranks him. The other thing to keep in mind is inheritance. The first-born son inherits everything, so a second-born son or third-born son will get nothing from his father, or best case scenario, he will get a small fraction of the family fortune from his father or older brother. In order for these younger sons to stay in the lifestyle they were raised in, they will have to marry someone who is coming into his fortune. In a setting where women can inherit her father’s entire estate, a lesbian would function the exact same as a gay man. Ergo, any queer romantic lead who is not inheriting his father’s full estate must seek a first-born son who will inherit his father’s estate. Meanwhile, if your protagonist is a first-born son, he is far more likely to be chased by the younger sons of distinguished families. Finally, when it comes to the social season and courting at dances, queer nobles would likely wear something to distinguish themselves from the heterosexual nobles at the party. Something to let the other guests know their preference in dance partner. That way, gentlemen know not to ask the Baroness of Agincourt to dance, but that the Duke of Orleans is all too eager to receive male attention.

Lavender Marriages in Realist Romances

A lavender marriage is when a queer person marries someone of the opposite sex to disguise their homosexual dalliances, such as Renly Baratheon marrying Margaery Tyrell, or Laenor Valyrian marrying Rhaenyra Targaryen. In these instances, the woman knew her husband was queer and was willing to work with him to keep the secret. However, sometimes the wife wouldn’t know, and the husband was keeping his sexuality a secret from everybody. However, it was usually hard for a noble to keep his dalliances completely hidden from the court, as in both of these cases, both Renly and Laenor were well-known around court to be fanciful of male attention. Everyone typically knows the wedding is a sham, but tend to turn a blind eye to it regardless. I know I’ve been using male examples this whole post, but this does also work with lesbian romances. I believe the term is still lavender marriage with a lesbian, but I could be mistaken.

Actual Homosexuality in Historical Time Periods

Scholars debate the exact nature of their relationship, but in Arthurian Myth, King Galehaut is conquering his way across Arthur’s Kingdom when he challenges Arthur to a duel for the throne of Camelot. However, upon seeing Sir Lancelot, Galehaut offers to concede to Arthur if he’ll introduce him to Lancelot. From then on, Galehaut and Lancelot became Very Close Special Guy Friends, and it’s suspected that the pair might be lovers, or at least that Galehaut is in love with Lancelot.

Leonardo Da Vinci was involved with one of his male models, Pietri Bandielli, who Da Vinci used as a model for Jesus. Which also means, If you pray to the white version of Jesus with the little beard and long brown hair, congratulations! You’re worshiping a gay Italian male model that used to have sex with Leonardo Da Vinci.

Hans Christian Andersen fell in love with the son of his financier, Edvard Collins. But, when Collins became engaged and later married to Henriette Tybjerg, a heartbroken Andersen wrote the story of The Little Mermaid as an allegory for his unrequited love. Collins was the handsome prince who didn’t return the mermaid’s feelings, Henriette was the Temple Girl who stole the mermaid’s love, and Andersen himself was the mermaid, unable to verbalize her true feelings, and suffering great pain just to be near the one she loves.

It’s mostly speculation, but it’s believed that Richard I of England had a clandestine homosexual relationship with Phillip II of France. The majority of evidence comes from one particular courtier’s writings who described them as eating from the same dish and not being separated by their beds at night. However, it’s hard to say if this is evidence of a homosexual relationship, or just the flowery prose writing of the time describing a very close bromance.

Edward II of England had little interest in war. Hoping to toughen up his son, Edward’s father assigned a squire to Edward that excelled in tournaments, Piers Gaveston. However, this backfired spectacularly, as Edward fell in love with Piers. Gaveston flaunted his sway over the king, being so bold as to wear royal purple and the queen’s jewelry during Edward’s coronation. Gaveston was hunted down and beheaded by a group of barons, and Edward himself was killed with a red-hot poker shoved up his backside.

King James I of England was a well-known bisexual, even having a secret passageway linking his bedchambers with that of George Villiers. James’ male lovers experienced royal favoritism and protection, as James absolved one male lover for poisoning a political rival, and twice protecting Villiers from impeachment for incompetency. Following James’ death, Villiers was struck through by a sword.

Anne Lister was a noblewoman who often dressed in masculine clothing and kept a coded diary which recounted her many and varied lesbian affairs over her lifetime. Lister even earned the nickname Gentleman Jack, and is often regarded as the First Modern Lesbian.

Pirate ships were one of the few places where gay marriage was legitimate. Pirate captains could perform marriage ceremonies, and marriages between male crewmates was not uncommon, even having rules about sharing property and distrubution of goods among crew members with a married couple on-board. As well as the distribution of property following the death of a same-sex spouse.

While we know that brothels and prostitution has existed since Ancient Greece, in the 1700s, it was possible to find a Molly House. A house which featured male prostitutes who catered to male clients.

Women were not believed to have sex drives, so when two women loved each other, they were often called “bosom buddies”, and two women living together without a man in the house was called a Boston Marriage.

In the medieval era, it was believed that a woman’s womb was naturally cold and had to be kept warm with regular activity. If the woman was unmarried, the womb was to be kept warm by hand. But since using her own hands would be sinful, it often fell to the woman’s female servants to do the deed.

Men and women often existed in entirely disconnected social spheres. For a man, he would go to work where he would only work with men, after work he would go to a local bar or club that was exclusively for gentlemen, and following dinner, he would often retire to a private room in his home or another man’s home to sit, smoke, and talk with his male colleagues. Even within a single house, men would retire to the gentlemen’s lounge to smoke, while women would depart to the sewing room, tea room, or drawing room to have afternoon tea with the other ladies. As men would spend their entire days solely in the company of men, and the same for women, many men and women only spent time together in public spaces, during meals, and when going to bed. Even then, it was not uncommon to see households where the man and woman had separate bedchambers, and the woman would only sleep in the man’s bedroom when he desired sexual congress. Even the Palace of Versailles had separate chambers for the king and queen. This gave queer couples plenty of time to sneak around without anyone being the wiser.

This to Keep in Mind

One of the biggest issues behind the AIDS epidemic was the promiscuous nature of gay lovers in the 1970s. Because gay men had to be discreet, they would often have anonymous relations in public spaces like bathhouses and bars. This combination of unsafe sex practices and anonymous lovers caused STDs to run rampant through the community, and allowed the AIDS epidemic to have a devastating impact on the queer community.

In Victorian great houses, the footmen were effectively the “face” of the manor’s servants, so height and attractiveness was favored when hiring them. As such, footmen make for excellent romantic interests in a historical time period, since they’re required to be attractive to be hired.

The mafia has a long history of working with and supporting the LGBT community. In the 1920s, nightclubs in the black districts of Harlem would host drag balls, these events being known as Harlem Nights. The mafia helped these groups to meet without police interference for a kickback fee. Even the Stonewall Inn had Mafia protection. In a world where homosexuality is still seen as a sin, think about what groups are willing to turn a blind eye in the interest of profit.

Homosexuals were among those rounded up the Nazi Party during the Holocaust. Just as Jews were forced to wear the Star of David on their clothes, so too were homosexuals marked with a pink triangle. The Nazi Party also destroyed research on gender and sexuality, which destroyed a lot of evidence that had been gathered of queer existence up to that point in time. Today, the Pink Triangle is among the reclaimed symbols used by the queer community.

Queer people found ways to signal to one another. At different points in time, the visual cues have included wearing green ties, having a red carnation in their lapels, and in the 1970s, a bandana in the back pocket was a common way of indicating someone was a homosexual, and the color would even further indicate what they were looking for. Many modern slang words even started out as gay code words so that gay people could talk in public without drawing attention to themselves. Codes like “buns” for butt are still in use today, but got their start as codewords to keep gay conversations undercover.

While we often remember the Red Scare of the 1950s, we often don’t mention that there was also a Lavender Scare at the same time, which hunted down homosexuals just as the Red Scare hunted for communists. It was the belief that homosexuals would be more likely to undermine American policies or spread information to enemy nations, and thus had to be kept down.

Rich men often kept “actresses”, paying for apartments for them, paying for their food, drink, fun, costumes, and whatever else. If they really were an actress or otherwise a struggling entertainer, it was not unheard of for the wealthy benefactor to pay to get the actress roles, pay for tutors and lessons, or even buying them an entire theater. It’s not so hard to believe that a wealthy gentleman could keep a male model, actor, or artist in good stead, especially because artists in particular flourished in periods where rich people would sponsor and commission artists to paint for them. And this can work for either type of story, as a husband or wife would be equally annoyed to learn that the Duke of Orleans is keeping a young actor on the south side.

Gif Sourcing:

1. Bridgerton (2020 - present) 2. Game of Thrones (2011-2019) 3. Mary, Queen of Scots (2018) 4. Downton Abbey (2010-2015) 5. Victoria (2016) 6. Cloud Atlas (2012) 7. A Place to Call Home (2013-2018) 8. Mary Shelley (2017) 9. Brokeback Mountain (2005)

#historical fiction #writing romance #gay romance #historical romance #period piece #period drama #courting #courtship #gay history #gay historical fiction #gay victorian #gay period piece #gay period drama #queer romance #queer history #gay love story

355 notes · View notes

brideofhantengu · 1 month

Text

A Famished Heart: the collected diaries of GYOTENGU human!au

TW mentions of mental health, homophobia, drugs and ed/ana.

New York City, 1980 - After being tried before a jury on his alleged role in the breaking and entering of an older woman's home, Hantengu's mental state and physical condition (and endless excuses for his actions) call for a two-year involuntary rehabilitation. There, he is poorly treated for his kleptomania, health and behavioral issues but feigns his wellness in an attempt to be released. The year is 1982 and the unstable Hantengu has been released from the institution he has spent the last two Christmases in. He still suffers from disordered eating and dissociative identity disorder until he crosses paths with Gyokko, an ex-bouncer who frequents queer nightclubs. Gyokko wants to help Hantengu, but the relatively recent HIV epidemic stands between them as society struggles to accept their relationship. These are the recovered pages of their journals.

Hantengu

January 12th, 7:08 pm.

Run. Even if it hurts, run and keep running. If you can't move your legs, use your head. Run away from anything and everything that hurts. This pain does not belong to me, this pain was caused by others who wish nothing but to harm me. 'I couldn't possibly have committed such atrocities,' I say but no one ever hears me. Instead, I reassure myself of my purity until the past becomes a blur. Fuck. My knee's gone out. I can't stop here, I have to keep going. I won't get caught. It's not my fault. My entire life I've been a loyal servant of God. Each finger tip that I glide over each cold, bronze lock and every blade I caress with my thumb to test its dullness, is done in favor of my own self-defense. I've spent my life unwanted, orphaned at a young age. My mother claims she couldn't handle me and suggests I saw a psychiatrist. My father beat me until my mind went blank. I've never been much to look at, then again neither as my mother. I haven't seen my own reflection in years, so a clean, sharp knife is always a surprise. And a delight. But you didn't hear that from me, no. In fact, you didn't hear that at all. You're unsure of what you've just been told and I think I'd like to keep it that way. "Innocent until proven guilty," they say. But I know the truth. Since the day I was born into this accursed world, I've not once uttered a lie. Despite my plight, I'm a virtuous weakling. But no one ever gives me any sympathy!

I'VE NEVER TOLD A LIE!

*knock knock* "Uhh, Han-...Tang-Go?"

The staff always gets my name wrong.

"His name is Han-teng-gu."

"Thank you doctor, er, Hahn-teen-goo? You're set to go. You can collect your things at the nurse's station."

That's it? Just like that? No questions asked?

Until today, they'd fed me nothing but a paper cup of undisclosed medications the size of golf balls and about a drop of tap water. They must have heard I was stubborn 'cause they made me lift my tongue each time to prove I'd swallowed them. This isn't my first time in the madhouse, I've had my run-ins with the law throughout my youth, but my mother and father always swore up and down that I was in desperate need of help. Any mere second of my life spent in an establishment within this city is absolute punishment. For what, I can't be sure, I'm no criminal... But something about the idea of getting to do almost whatever I please and all I gotta do is hide my face and sob in front of a judge and say outlandish shit to get by is pretty liberating. Now I'm no spring chicken, I've got joints that snap, crackle and pop about as loud as a bowl of Rice Krispies when I stand, and my hair's surprisingly maintained it's shade although I'm partially balding, but come on, everyone's got their vices right? Everyone's got a deep-pitted and insatiable hole they gotta fill, don't they? For me, it's this unbearable craving for adrenaline. Even if it's for a fleeting moment I need it real bad.

I've hit just about everywhere these parts at night and it seems a lot has changed while I've been in the rooms. The streets are filled with garbage as they usually are, and the papers read of endless tragedy. Every day a young man dies from this auto-immune disease that eats away at their minds and bodies, painfully consuming them until they die, in this case, dropping like flies all around. Some are saying it's because of the queer but most are blaming it on dirty needles and prostitution. I've got no use for the red light district anyhow, I get my rocks off on the pity of others. Maybe it's because I felt neglected my entire life or maybe it's because I'm truly a sick bastard, but the sight of people clutching their chest as I grovel and cry and beg for mercy gives me enough pleasure to not need sex for weeks or even months.

I've never been a sexual person, as a boy I occasionally reached a hand below the waist line here and there but I can't tell you what my thoughts were that accompanied my self-awareness. Sometimes now, in my socially private moments which have become fewer and further between, I jack myself off to the thought of blood. The idea of picking locks and weaseling my way into the homes of unsuspecting victims just to creep through their halls like a filthy rat and pocketing whatever I can, no matter it's value, makes my heart pound with fervor and lust. My cock stiffens as I throw their possessions in my bag and sometimes when I'm caught, I simply throw myself to the floor and force myself to shake, evoking a sense of forgiveness in my victim. Victim. What an ugly word for the evil. If anyone's the true victim, it's me! I'd like to think of them as 'participants' in my schemes.

9:02pm

As I walk along the jagged sidewalk, cold wind gnawing at my skin pulled taught over my cheekbones, I quickly slip my black raybans on and pull my black trench coat shut. I hold my hat to my head as the wind blows hard, desperately trying to keep myself upright. The thin, deep red button down worn beneath lays like a thin sheet of paper over my chest, not enough to protect me from the elements. The sky is as black as the ace of spades, I gotta find somewhere to stop awhile where I won't be questioned. I shuffle my way quickly down a dark alley to my left, but not enough to look suspicious. I see some distant lights pulsating in the blackness and some fog emitting from the mouths of two male strangers outside a door. I take heed as I approach them, the sign above in hot pink saying "The Fish Bowl." I think I've heard about this place before, a homosexual patient disappeared one day after telling us stories in group about his "illness." The epidemic had him scared shitless that "God's wrath had come upon the gay community", so towards the end of his life he made numerous attempts to get "saved" in rehab, attempting to take his life numerous times, but tragically to succession before Christmas with a shoelace that was somehow sneaked inside.

Suddenly a pale, muscular man barrels out of the big steel door, shouting at the two men and wrapping each arm around their necks. He has two beers in his hands, spilling their foam all over the place. He's clearly inebriated, pushing an assortment of boundaries both profane and unintentional, boasting some illegible tangent about his days of being a body guard for the "Pink Flamingoes" club back in the day, before it became "The Fish Bowl."

Gyokko

January 12th, 9:05pm

The ground is moving beneath my wobbly feet and my world is spinning around me. Suddenly, I spot this strange and older gentleman, dressed in black with a studious, sickly form. "HEY!" I shout, "MiSteR 'I wEaR mY sUnGlAsSeS aT niGhT' GUY!"

Oh, crap! He's looking my way! Or so I think, behind those dark ass shades... "C'mere!" I take my arms back and extend a hand, offering him a beer. "I got TWO BEERS HERE, and ah, *hiccup* well, I want you to-well I wonder if you'll have one of 'em." The dark man just stands there, hesitant. Is he judging me? WHO IS HE JUDGING, BECAUSE I KNOW IT ISN'T ME! "What?! You some kind of beauty critic or something? Come on, it's a nice gesture! Take it!"

Fuck! He's coming towards me! I panic briefly wanting to make a good impression of myself but I'm piss drunk and covered in sweat and beer. "I won't bite. Promise!"

He took it! He actually took it!

"You cold? Come inside, you'll LOOOOVE iiiittt."

I should have held the door for him but I was so fixated on putting one foot in front of the other I practically let it shut on him. I glanced over my shoulder and saw him catch it with his hands, which looked knobby and frail like a ghost! "Hey, I'm sorry! I just- *belch* couldn't wait to get a new face in here." "HEY BARNEY!" I yell at the bartender, "MEET MY NEW FRIEND, HIS NAME IS... what's your name?" "Hanmurumurmur..." "WHAT?" "My name is humhmuhmhm..." "I CAN'T HEAR YOU OVER THE MUSIC, WHAT DID YOU SAAAY?" "Nevermind." "NEVERMIND! MEET MY FRIEND NEVERMIND! Wait, that's not what you said..." after enlightening my new friend all about my budding art career and RICH history as a BOUNCER, I finally got the courage to ask him about himself. "Why don't you take those peepers off? The strobe lights bothering you or something?" He looks kind of old from what light catches his structure, maybe he has cataracts or somethi-

Oh. Oh my god.

His eyes.

HIS EYES!

THOSE HAVE TO BE THE MOST BEAUTIFUL AND HYPNOTIC EYES TO EVER GRACE MY OWN! They're this stunning hue of red circled by a ring of an even deeper red, encapsulated by GORGEOUS dark and sunken sockets. His skin is tan and tight, thin wrinkles peppered in each curve. "I-iii-uhhhh," come on, Gyokko! This is no way to act! I'm a fisherman's son! I may be estranged from my family but I know how to navigate turbulent waters! Fuck! I knocked my beer over. I quickly get up to lean forward and wipe the table with a handful of napkins, noticing my new (and beautiful) friend's coat has become drenched. He notices and stands, quickly pulling it off and tossing it over the table, using it to soak up the rest. I slowly raise my head to look up at him and my eyes are met with a body just as or if not MORE beautiful than his face. He's remarkably thin, but certainly not helpless looking, not at all. His arms and legs are strong, adding an even further sense of mystery to his aura. The top buttons of his shirt are undone, showing off his collar bones and Adams apple freely. I begin to salivate as my eyes fall down his torso, landing on a black leather belt that seemed as if it was latched into it's slimmest size. "What's the problem? Catching flies, or something? You can't stop staring at me."

"Oh! Oh, I didn't realize."

What. The fuck.

I'm stronger than this, far more confident and sure of my surroundings! How could I let myself display such weakness! This is not how any artiste should act! This man might be my magnum opus! Oh, if only I could have him...get him into bed... No, he won't do that, not with this disease wiping out young men by the hundreds..."

"Look, um... I know we just met and all and I probably shouldn't trust you but then again, you probably shouldn't trust me considering we just met and all, but, ahh..."

What is he asking me WHAT IS HE ASKING ME!?!?!

"Do you happen to know anywhere I could crash for the night? Somewhere safe, at least?"

"HYOOOO! As a matter of fact, my roommate just moved out and I've got a bed and everything you can use in my apartment! I hope you'll happily oblige, dear friend! I could use the company."

"You sure? I mean you seem like a great guy and all but-"

"ABSOLUTELY! Come on, you can wear my jacket until we get home."

"Home?"

"ERRR, MY PLACE."

I took him to the back wall with me to grab my coat, I couldn't leave someone as delicate yet so handsome as himself all alone. Just my luck I'd have returned and he'd be saddled up on some other man's lap! Truth be told, I've been holding my piss this whole time in fears of him being swept away!

He flashes me a funny look as I pull my purple rabbit fur jacket off the hook. He shrugs and accepts my offer and we side step each other awkwardly as we decide on whether or not I help him or he puts it on himself. He finally just turned around and let me guide it on him, and god did he look cute! What better clothes to frame a beautiful man than my beautiful taste in outerwear! He turns around to face me and he looks so damn adorable with that fedora on. "How sublime, how sublime!" I grab my keys actually remember to hold the door open for him this time. The attraction I had for this stranger was intoxicating, but the adrenaline of taking him home so easily sobered me up.

"I didn't quite get your name, what did you say it was, again?"

"Hantengu."

"Hantengu. That's a lovely name. Truly sublime!"

We walked in silence, my rapid cycling thoughts drowned out the sound of sirens and traffic. We arrived at my complex, a bit rundown on the outside. "Now I know it's not much but, it's mine and I can express myself freely here, so." We entered and moved throughout the lobby, headed for the elevators when Mary Ann the crackhead called out from along the graffiti laden wall, "Hey, hey, honey! You got any change you can spare, even a nickel?" "Not today, Mary Ann, I'm kind of busy right now." "Oh that's alright honey, who's this?" She scratches at her neck, "This your new boyfriend?" We keep walking, "Nope, just a friend who's staying the night." "I feel you baby, but do be careful! That H-I-V be takin' all kinds of folks around the neighborhood." "Yeahhh," I reply, "can't be too careful, right?" I continue as she lights up a pipe shared by the emaciated and skin-sore covered man beside her.

I had to press the elevator button multiple times to get it to work, which caused Hantengu to look a little uncomfortable. I don't want to worry my handsome guest so I reassured him it was normal and never once failed me. He spoke to me in a trembling and anguished tone of voice, "Tragedy follows me everywhere I go..." This caught me off guard as I've never made a good therapist friend, for I lack that sense of communication since it's never really been shown to me, so I just guide him into the elevator and give him space to speak. Naturally, I'd have changed the subject about now to something that peaks my own intrigue, but I truly felt a connection to this guy and really wanted to take things higher, even if by a single decibel. The lights flickered in the lift, and I almost felt compelled to put my arm around Hantengu to keep him calm, but physical touch could easily blow it should that be something that causes him to spaz. We follow the corridor past some punched holes in the wall and the skunky smell of pot assaulted our nostrils and FINALLY arrive at my door. I fuck with the lock to get us in and the first thing he does is look around sort of amazed. "Whoa... these all yours?" He points to my collection of vases. "Yes, those are mine, how could you tell? The sheer glory of their handicraft and careful precision in each pattern?"

"Well I mean you're...colorful."

"Colorful?" I chuckle.

"Yeah, you know. Look at this jacket, I mean, come on. You've got style."

My heart soared at Hantengu's observation. I always felt the world needed more color in it, so I accepted the position of delivery to that vibrant and exotic touch the planet needed so! "Sit, sit! Make yourself comfortable. Want me to take your hat for you?"

"Um, no, I think I'll keep it on."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I feel weird without it."

"I respect your wishes but just know I won't judge."

I removed the bandana around my head and shook my purple hair out, tying it up into a half bun before rolling up my sleeves and opening the fridge. I think the sight of my hair loosened him up a bit because I saw him lean back in the corner of my eye and adjust himself leisurely. He spread his legs in a masculine way, which was turning me on but I didn't say anything. Instead, I cleared my throat and offered him something to gnash on. "You hungry, Hantengu? Can I fix you something to eat?"

"Oh, uh, no. No thanks."

"You sure?"

"Y-yeah, I'm...I'm sure."

I closed the fridge after grabbing a slice of cold pizza and brought it over to my sectional couches with me. I sat on the loveseat parallel to Hantengu who was seated on the full size. I'm sure it was impolite to eat before him, but I wasn't in the habit of being fully aware of my approach towards others. "Where are my manners," I sighed and shook my head before I continued chewing and spaced off. I noticed Hantengu was getting sort of agitated across from me, readjusting his legs and tapping his fingers on his knee. It looked like he was trying to cover his nose with his other hand, which made me wonder if the smell of the neighbors pot was bothering him. "Hantengu you look a little unwell, are you sure I can't get you something to eat?" Hantengu just stared at my pizza, glossy eyed. "HYO! Someone's contact high and got the munchies, huh?" What a dumb ass thing to say to my guest. What a way to make him feel welcome.

12:37 am

Some time passed of us just shooting the shit about the local news and drugs, and I noticed him yawning. I offered him the guest room but he insisted on sleeping on the couch, which I found quite odd but I understood his concern. My body was fatigued from a breaking myself into a sweat at the club, but something inside me felt so alive and giddy. I laid out a palette of old knitted blankets on the sofa and made sure he was comfortable before I took myself to bed.

January 13th, noon.

No idea how long I slept but the first thing I did was jump out of bed and go check on my company. The blankets were folded neatly in a stack and I couldn't resist the urge to look around and call out for him. "Hantengu?" "Han- oh my." I accidentally walked in on him taking a piss in the bathroom, to which he reacted shyly at first but then calmly as he flushed and swiftly walked past me. I felt my face go flush and my body froze completely. I thought to myself, 'Did I just... see his penis?" I ran back to apologize to him and he explained it wasn't entirely his sex he felt exposed over, but the fact that he didn't have his hat on! Silly me, I didn't even notice because my perverted eyes were fixated on his cock. It took a second for me to realize but his insecurity was the fact that he was balding, and had a rather large protrusion on his forehead. It almost looked something like leprosy or even some kind of tumor, even. Yet, the way his black wavy hair looked tucked behind his ears, his defined and angular jaw and tendons peeking through each muscle's movement took my breath away; something that only happens when I see my own reflection and finished artwork. "So are we not gonna talk about the fact that I totally just...saw you take a piss in my toilet? Orrrr,"

"Why, do you want to talk about that or something?"

"What! No, I mean,"

"Well do you?"

"I...!"

Hantengu stood up and tucked his shirt into his slacks, and spoke in a very straightforward manner, "Look, I appreciate you letting me stay the night. Take care, ok?" I wanted to saw my ears off at the sound of his take-off. By reflex, I jumped in front of my door and stuck my arms out at my hips, blocking him. "I'm sorry? What's going on here."

"WAIT!" I exclaimed. "Don't go. Not yet."

Hantengu sat down silently and looked down at his feet before he folded his arms and leaned back. "I don't know what your deal is here, but I gotta go." "Where." I demanded an answer. "Where do you have to be that's so important."

"Listen buddy, that's none of your bu-"

And like a total fucking goofball, I charged towards him and grabbed his chin, directing his gaze up towards mine. "Nowhere. Because if you did, you wouldn't have asked to stay."

Silence. He said nothing.

I noticed his eyes make some sort of triangle shape at each eye and at my lips. Something about the way he inspected my face put the world in a stand-still and all I knew at that point was, no matter how dangerous it may have seemed, I needed to kiss him. I leaned down to press my lips into his, and he didn't really react at first until I felt him part his thin, dry lips to invite my mouth deeper onto his. He stood up and took my face in his cold and wrinkled hands, covered in liver spots and veins. Each bulbous knuckle that bent ever-so-lightly at their joint, each hair on the back of his head that graced his narrow shoulders, each line and sharp angle of his face... I was beginning to admire him. This man was my muse from the moment we crossed paths. Star-crossed lovers, so to speak? Whatever it was, I was falling in love and knew I couldn't let myself be ashamed of it.

~End of part one~

#hantengu #gyotengu #gyokko #demon slayer #kny #kimetsu no yaiba #anime #hantengu x gyokko #1980s #fanfiction #fanfic #canon lgbt #lgbtqia #queer #queer community #gyokko x hantengu #period piece #period fanfiction #80s

6 notes · View notes