"Yes, it's true: I was the type of young femme who managed the girls basketball team in high school, just to be able to take in the sight of all those butches parading their muscles up and down the court. I found Girl Scout camp to be femme heaven and reveled in being able to explore my athletic self and still maintain my femmeness. And, to my horror, I have to admit pushing Tina away from my breasts in the back seat of a Buick while attending Mount Saint Mary Seminary.
And then there was feminism... Although I came out as a "gay" woman before reading The Feminine Mystique, the seventies brand of white feminism had me trimming my nails and cutting off my hair. Soon I was outfitted in farmer jeans and high tops. And still I was told by my "sisters" that I didn't "look like a dyke" (read: I didn't look butch).
I began to lead two lives- one as an outrageous, skirted, lipsticked femme while I worked in and traveled with carnivals, and another as an imitation butch back home in the women's community. Eventually, I pulled the pieces of my being back together and proclaimed boldly, "I am a working-class lesbian femme."
So I had maybe six years reveling in unleashing my seductive femme self when, as lives go, mine changed: slowly at first and then more dramatically.
Recurring back pain and limited range of mobility were finally diagnosed. Soon after came decreased mobility. No more mountain climbing. No long mall walks in search of the perfect piece of sleaze. No more standing against kitchen walls being gloriously fucked by some handsome butch. I stopped using alcohol and drugs, became ill with what is now known as CFIDS (Chronic Fatigue Immune Dysfunction Syndrome), and began to use a three-wheeled power chair.
The more disabled I became, the more I mourned the ways my sexual femme self had manifested through the nondisabled me: cruising at the local lezzie bar, picking up a dyke whose eyes refuse to stray from mine, dancing seductively, moving all of me for all of her. Cooking: love and suggestion neatly tucked into the folds of a broccoli quiche. Serving my date in varying, sleazy clothing, removing layers as the meal and our passion progressed. And making love... feeling only pleasure as my hips rose and fell under the weight of her. Accomplishment and pride smirked across my face as her wrists finally submitted to the pressure of strong persistent hands. There are the ways I knew to be femme, to be the essence of me.
It's been five years now since I began using my wheelchair. I am just awakening to a new reclamation of femme. Yes. I still grieve the way I was, am still often unsure how this femme with disabilities will act out her seduction scenes. I still marvel when women find passion amidst the chrome and rubber that is now a part of me.
There have been numerous dates, lovers, relationships, sexual partners, and fliterations along the way. Cindy, Jenny, Ellie, Emma, Diane, Dorothy, Gail, June, Clove, Lenny, Cherry, Diana, Sarah I, and Sarah II. You have all reminded me in your own subtle or overt, quit or wild ways that I am desirable, passionate, exciting, wanted.
Yes I am an incredibly sexual being. An outrageous, loud mouthed femme who's learning to dress, dance, cook, and seduce on wheels; finding new ways to be gloriously fucked by handsome butches and aggressive femmes. I hang out with more sexual outlaws now- you know, the motorcycle lesbians who see wheels and chrome between your legs as something exciting, the leather women whose vision of passion and sexuality doesn't exclude fat, disabled me.
Ableism tells us that lesbians with disability are asexual. (When was the last time you dated a dyke who uses a wheelchair?) Fat oppression insists that thin is in and round is repulsive. At times, these voices become very loud, and my femme, she hid quietly amidts the lists.
Now my femme is rising again. The time of doubt, fear, and retreat has passed. I have found my way out of the lies and oppression and have moved into a space of loving and honoring the new femme who has emerged. This lesbian femme with disabilities is wise, wild, wet, and wanting. Watch out.
-"Reclaiming femme... Yet again" Mary Francis Platt, The Persistent Desire (Edited by Joan Nestle) (1992)
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✎Regret, love and death
Itoshi Rin, Itoshi Sae, Michael Kaiser x g/n!reader
Summary: The bllk boys break up with you not knowing you're terminally ill and they meet you again but this time you're dying right in front of them.
Warning: Angst, no fluff, breakup and breakdown, death, grief
A/n: this is super cliche ik but this has been on my mind for months now, it's time i actually write about it. Listening to ditto while making this. I tried to make it g/n so bear with me
Itoshi Rin
"Stay in the middle, like you a little"
Itoshi Rin who left you months ago after a stupid argument he wishes he could've prevented. He tells himself that he doesn't need you anymore and that he'll never open up his heart again.
Itoshi Rin who gets mad when he sees happy couples, he swears it's anger and jealousy but it's mostly confusion and betrayal. He believed that it was your fault that he became this vulnerable but he willingly gave his heart to you.
Being a professional athlete like Itoshi Rin it's common to regularly get some injuries here and there so he visits the hospital.
He waited patiently right outside his clinic, an earbud in one ear and he listened to the environment around him. Squeaky wheelchairs, cries from a hospital room nearby and patients conversing in daily chit-chat. The line at the clinic was taking too long so he decided he'll go next time; but something caught his eye. The soles of his shoes clack on the marble floor at the empty hallway and the music he's listening to but he hears the faint beating of a heart monitor. Then, he sees your name in one hospital room.
He couldn't believe his eyes. There was a folder attached loosely on the door, your name written in lazy cursive and numerous descriptions he couldn't understand. Rereading and rereading the name on the folder over and over again, his eyes narrowed as he decided to look over to the glass window at the door; he saw you. Rin doesn't understand why you were here and why the folder was marked "terminal— confined" . The writings are too messy for him to understand but his heart beats loudly through his body like a gong.
He tries to convince himself it's probably someone else but he knew you too much to know that the one stuck in that wrinkly hospital bed was you.
He has to go, he has to but he doesn't. He takes a deep breath and opens the door. You open your eyes as you realize your peace was disturbed from the loud creaking of the door. You scrunch your nose and blink your eyes as you take a look at the figure standing at the side of your bed, it was Rin.
"You… why are you here?" He whispered, you could barely hear him but he stared down at you with pity, anger, grief— you don't know.
"I should be the one asking you that." Your voice was muffled by the oxygen mask strapped to your head as you sat yourself up and looked up to him, he tried to avoid your gaze as he looked over to the IVs inserted into your wrists, wires everywhere he was sure he almost stepped on one.
Rin furrowed his brows in irritation, all this pent up anger from the break up bursting all at once, "What the fuck happened to you?"
You gave him a weak smile, "A week before we broke up… I was diagnosed with a heart disease. I couldn't tell you what happened to me, then we fought but I was too scared and stressed I broke things off."
Rin breathes raggedly, fear and guilt flooding his senses; wondering why he was such an idiot to leave you.
"Will you get better?"
You smile again at his stupidity, you know he's seen the document attached at the door saying 'patient in hospice' but Rin wants to hear it from you, he wants you to confirm his thoughts. Maybe even deny it so he'll feel better. You feel tears drip down your arm as you watch him shaken like he's seen a ghost.
"I won't, so go now."
Rin wants to pour out all his emotions, everything welling up inside his heart— the thoughts brewing in the depths of his heart that ate him alive from the time you were seperated but he holds himself back.
His knees buckled and his strength prior to this incident dissipated into nothing as he held onto his remaining resolve. Like the coward he always was, he leaves and never comes back… but he will come back to you eventually; with a chrysanthemum in hand this time and a fresh black suit he picked out.
Itoshi Sae
"Don't want no riddle, Say it, Say it back"
Itoshi Sae who visits Japan for the first time in months, only going back to renew his passport.
It wasn't his intention to pass by your old friend group in public, he eavesdropped on their mindless conversation then they started talking about you.
Itoshi Sae listens to their conversation, getting some details about you. Hearing that you got confined somewhere and that there was no one to take care of you other than the nurses and hospice workers stationed at your room.
Itoshi Sae who tries to keep that newfound information out of his mind but the thought of you being confined in a hospital is making his heart race. Not in love nor from the butterflies he used to get when talking to you— no. He couldn't stop thinking of you. He promised to himself to never interact with you, avoid every single thing that reminded him of you but he couldn't. He just couldn't.
Itoshi Sae who visits the hospital and asks where you are, pretending that he was a visitor to the nurses was easier than he thought.
"Are you asking about that patient?"
He nodded, the nurse was stupid enough to fall for his charms as she sent him the directions to your room. Sae knows what dangerous game he's playing, if he comes back to you again then it defeats the purpose of avoiding you forever like he promised himself but he still goes.
It was a nice afternoon, birds chirping and he saw little children from the nursery running around in the hallways with toys in their hands. He mentally prepared himself for what he was about to see, turning away from your hospital room for a moment before entering.
His eyes softened for a moment when he laid his eyes on you, you were reading a book— an eerie one at that. Sae raised an eyebrow when he noticed that you didn't hear him enter, what if you were deliberately ignoring him? He was sure you were but he didn't catch your attention until he stepped closer to your bed, a shadow looming over you as you slowly looked up to him.
The two of you stare at each other for what it felt like forever, he's still looking at you like that. Love in his irises but there's a tint of melancholy.
You could see Sae saying something to you, you tried to read his lips but his words fell on deaf ears.
Sae was getting irritated on why you didn't respond but you took the white board that was resting on your bedside table. He patiently watched you write something on the board, clack, clack, clack.
'Im deaf. I can't hear you.'
Just months ago you were fine but he gets more ill with worry when his mind starts to drift and wonder what could've happened to you when he left you here all alone.
You erased the writing on the board, giddily like a child as you handed him the board next, signaling him to also write you something.
The athlete hesitated for a moment before grabbing the board off your hands, writing something hastily. He feels like if he wasted any more time he'll lose everything— but he knew that he already did the moment when he called it quits months ago.
'What happened', he wrote on the board, streaks of ink staining his palm but that's the least of his worries.
You sat up in a more comfortable position before opening the drawer, taking a clipboard, medical documents clipped to the board. Sae reads the papers, his throat starts burning and he feels tears building up in his eyes. He flips through the papers, information about your condition printed on the tiny pieces of paper as he reads through everything.
You couldn't understand what he was muttering under his breath but you were sure it was something… the way he bit his lip to hold back the tears and the way his hands got sweaty as he scanned the board.
Sae loved many things, you, soccer, coffee and the beach. There was something about hospitals that made him uneasy. Hospitals correlated to injury and death— a big no no for him. But as an athlete, a pro one at that it's not surprising that he regularly visits the hospital for nutrition advice or medicine. Though… this one was his worst visit yet. He told himself that he won't ever cry or love you again, that's why it's 'Sae loved' but he realizes he still loves you. Even though you're stuck on the hospital bed, sickly and dying, your arms littered with scars from the tubes that go in and out your skin and maybe the way you look so frail and skinny now compared to what you looked like months ago; he still loves you. He realized that in this moment he's always going to be looking for you the way you pathetically looked for him in the hospital, wishing he was there after you two broke up.
At least now the gods were merciful enough to grace you with his presence for the last time, even in this situation you still smiled at him like he deserved to see that again.
Itoshi Sae who visits you again tomorrow before you pull off the plug, Pain plastered on his face as he holds you tightly. He broke his promise.
To you, to never hurt you.
To himself, to never love you again.
Michael Kaiser
"Oh say it ditto, Can't wait till the morning, So say it ditto"
Michael Kaiser pretends he's fine after the break up and to distract himself from the pain, he dates other people— looking for someone who can fill the void you carved in his heart, looking for you.
Michael Kaiser who still wears the cardigan you bought him, giving him solace and comfort when he curls up in his bed alone, wishing you were there with him.
You and Kaiser didn't break up on bad terms, more like a confusing and neutral breakup. He told you he was done and you didn't beg him to stay, after all he neglected you for his selfish desires. He's like an icarus who has flown too close to the sun, his ego representing the melting wax wings of icarus— it burned your skin and melted your patience.
Michael Kaiser still stalks you in his other account you forgot that existed. He wouldn't admit it but he patiently waited for an update on your account.
Michael Kaiser who stalks your account and finally sees something. Your parents' post talking about you being stuck in the hospital.
Michael Kaiser doesn't cry, he can't. Images on the posts ingraining— burning itself in the deepest parts of his brain then it triggers something in him. Confusion.
He doesn't know the exact details of your situation but he's too curious to scroll past the post.
Michael Kaiser who gets a cab and arrives at your hospital, like a man with no shame he looks for your room.
It was nighttime and the hospital was uncannily quiet, he wasn't sure why but the guard was doing a terrible job at guarding the entrance of the hospital. Kaiser walks past the sleepy guard, ignoring the thumping sound of the guard falling on the floor as he makes his way to the lady on the desk.
"What brings you in here, sir?"
He pushes up his glasses, "I'm looking for my lover, [patient name]", he says boldly, lying through his teeth but he knows it's the only way they'll let him in.
"Give me a minute," the nurse starts flipping through the hospital log book, "They're at room 405, third floor."
Kaiser nods, thanking the nurse as he takes the elevator.
'ding' Kaiser enters the elevator, checking his watch while waiting for it to arrive at the third floor. The elevator was dimmed and it looked like a scene straight from horror movies, another old lady in a wheelchair strolls to the elevator.
"What's a handsome young man like you doing in the dead of the night here?" The grandma says in a hoarse voice, grey hairs covering her face as she holds onto both her wheelchair and fruits.
Though Kaiser is an asshole, a liar, he naturally had a soft spot for children and the elderly. "I'm here for my… lover" he doesn't know what gave it away but the older woman noticed the hesitance in his voice.
The grandma nodded at his reply, 'ding!'
"I guess this is my stop." Kaiser stepped out of the elevator, waving goodbye to the elderly woman and ambled in the hallway.
The scent of disinfectant invaded his nostrils, though the smell gets more diverse as he passes by different hospital rooms. He hears people screaming and crying at the room to his left and the other room dead silent, as if a corpse inhabited the room to his right.
Sweat starts trickling down his forehead when he counts the hospital room's numbers and realizes he's getting closer to yours. 'shit, shit, shit' his mind spiralling into madness, anxiety as he braces himself for what he's about to see.
His legs started to feel like jelly as his feet dragged him in front of your hospital room. A feeling of uncertainty, something he never felt again after breaking up with you.
Months ago when you two broke up he wondered if maybe you'd crawl back to him, like a child who ran away but comes home again the day after, but you didn't.
The door pulled open as he made his way inside, the lights were turned off but the sound of humming took him by surprise.
"I can hear you, you know."
Oh, that voice. That voice that could soothe him on days like these, your voice so gentle he thinks it's a sweet melody, a lullaby so sweet it would bring the devil down on his knees begging and repenting for forgiveness if he ever heard your voice.
The German boy doesn't come forward, only staring at your disheveled figure on the bed, waiting for death themselves to take you away from your misery.
"Have you eaten yet?"
Your fingers traced the lamp before finding the switch, making a flick sound as the soft illuminating glow lights up the room. You nod as you sit up, hugging yourself as you find comfort in the bandages that wrapped around your body.
"I'm sorry." It was the first time he's ever said this to you in ages, he wished he said this to you back then, he wishes that he was there for you.
Maybe he was the devil, cruel and mean, strong yet so weak. His knees buckled as he let out a choked sob, his fears that builded up couldn't hold in much longer as tears streamed down his face.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Kaiser says in between his sobs, the prideful man being broken down into a pathetic, crying mess.
Your fingers fiddled together in anxiety, you always had that stupid habit of yours when in distress. As much as you couldn't forgive Kaiser— he's too weak, too vulnerable for you to ignore.
Still Kaiser was shameless but not too shameless to go even a few inches closer to your bed, his mind racing— thinking that everything is all his fault as his heart rate goes up.
"Why should I? We're not even together." His chest tightens, if anyone could see him right now they'd think he's a fucking idiot— crying over the dying lover he left to rot in the hospital? Piece of shit.
"Yeah I know." He tries to calm himself down but he knows it's useless when you pick up on his uneasy behavior.
Kaiser wanted to ask you, 'let's get back together?' or maybe 'please forgive me' because he's a shameless prick but it's the first time he doesn't let his pride take over his senses.
He grieves right in front of you, your eyes never leaving his as his body language is signaling you, begging you to say something but it's better that you didn't.
He has all the time in the world to grieve for you after all, he's a shameless, selfish man… isn't he?
Notes: hell nah i'm sorry if there was so many grammar mistakes and stuff this isn't really proofread and i'm thinking of opening requests so like uh what do you guys think should i open requests
Written by @khuzena. Likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated. ♡
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