BTW Love the growth from OTB, where it's about reassurance and realization, to BTM, where it's about acceptance and growth. God, Louis' queer-coded lyricism should be talked a lot more also
I sat on this for a minute cause I didn't think I was going to answer it, cause if I did it might just be to say, I don't necessarily think it's that simple, and what does being a grinch add to anything! But I realized I do actually have something to say, although it isn't what you were looking for anon, so, sorry about that. See, what I have been thinking is amazing about Louis' lyricism (and has shown big growth between Walls and FITF) and needs to be discussed more is its versatility, its prismatic blank slate qualities even while being so specific.
What I mean is: his signature style is to write lyrics that are straightforward and easily understood as telling a clear story (certain trippy dance numbers excepted obv ;). But what's remarkable is that despite their seeming simplicity and easiness to read, a LOT of his songs can be perceived in a practically infinite number of ways, with every different interpreter absolutely confident in the rightness of their read. So yes, I personally happen to believe Bigger Than Me (and some other songs such as All This Time) are in part about Louis' queer experience. But every lyric that I think that about can also very easily mean something else- they can pass as generic radio songs about nothing, or as songs about experiences non queer listeners have had about any number of things, or as being about his career generally, or in most cases as boilerplate love songs. In the lead up to this album Louis talked about how he wanted people to come up with their own interpretations of the songs a lot, which I laughed at because he then kept saying what they meant to him anyway, but I think I get now why he said that so much just now in particular- I think the way it's possible to make almost any meaning from them is something he did knowingly and with great skill (and put hard work into), and deserves to be recognized. Like maybe one thing he was writing about was the queer interpretation, but then he also made them be about the fans generally and his life and love and 5 other things, while shaping them to be malleable and universal enough that all that fits into these extremely simple lines. And I think that people insisting they know what his songs are about and that it can only be one thing actually erases that work and skill that he, I believe, is rightfully proud of, and that deserves appreciation.
Also it doesn't fit anywhere but I would like to add two other thoughts: one, sometimes part of a song can be about one thing or be literal but other parts can be made up or from something else sometimes for as little reason as to make it rhyme, and two this is a whole essay probably but I'm thinking a lot lately about how Louis talks about being honest in his writing and how people think that means the same thing as being literal (writing about his exact life) and actually something can be HONEST, like can talk about feelings and thoughts that really happened while depicting made up events (see: fiction/ literature generally), without being LITERALLY TRUE (this is a thing that is exactly how it happened in my life) so just throwing that in here also.
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33 with Gavin/Freelancer? (I am so predictable requesting them but. listen) or any other pairing tht strikes ur fancy!!
33: saccharine
hi calico! thank u for sending me a prompt 💜 i think this might be an instance of taking it a little too literally
💜
"Gav," they call out into the house, not looking up from the contents of the saucepan. "Darling, light of my life, apple of my eye, treasure--"
The rush of wind that accompanies a rift cuts them off, and they laugh a little as familiar arms loop around them from behind. "What do you need me to do?"
They snort. "Can't I say extremely saccharine things to my beloved boyfriend without an ulterior motive?"
"I suppose you can," he concedes, "but you definitely aren't. What is it?"
Casting a brief glance back at his knowing little grin, they return their eyes to their project, one hand at the ready with a whisk. "Can you make a bowl of cold water? I'd meant to just let it sit, but the timing's wrong."
And maybe, just maybe, they could chill it themself, but this is time-sensitive, and it's water, so it's better if he does it. Gavin pulls away, and after a moment they hear the sink running. Another moment later, they feel the familiar flare of Gavin's magic, just the slightest touch. If he didn't want them to, they'd never feel it at all; this is part of something they'd asked him to do to get a handle on different people's auras, to get used to feeling magic around them.
Gavin's is like the brush of fabric against newly-shaved skin, silky and smooth and often fleeting. (Not for them, though, they think, with a deserved trace of smugness.)
"Will this do?" he asks, returning to them with a glass bowl of water that steams a little when it comes near the stove.
"Wonderfully, thank you," they say, leaning up to kiss his cheek distractedly. The second he puts the bowl down they transfer the pan into it, the hissing drowning out every other sound for the ten seconds the sauce needs to quench.
When they pull it out, the caramel sauce in the pan has settled to a perfect warm brown, and they grin triumphantly, turning the stove off. "All set. If you want this on your ice cream, get it out before it's too cold to pour."
He doesn't comply right away, and they glance over their shoulder again at him to find him doing that birdlike little head-tilt he does at particularly human things. "I wouldn't have thought that was how you made it," he says aloud.
"It's just really hot sugar," they say, realizing a second too late they've left a massive innuendo window open. It really pays to be more careful about your wording, living with this man.
Sure enough, the "suits you well, then," comes right on cue, and they scrunch their nose up and go back to stirring. They don't even try to fight back the fondness. He'd said once, quiet against their ear in the sleepy moments before full blackness, that their happiness felt like bubbles to him, shimmering and beautiful and popping soft against his skin when it's directed at him, and denying him that isn't worth even the pretense of exasperation.
Gavin returns from the freezer with the open ice cream container, and when they turn to face him, he grins, that slow, spreading one they've come to love. "You have a little something," he says softly, reaching out. "Just... there."
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