#exploration of sexuality

[hairmetal666]

Steve goes to a gay club for the first time alone. He and Robin, they'd talked about it since moving to Chicago, but every time they made plans he got cold feet.

But on a random, rainy Saturday with Robin back home in Hawkins, he decides fuck it, puts on his sluttiest jeans and polo, and goes to the damn club. He's sick of being nervous--he's going to make out with a guy for the first time tonight.

The club is crowded, loud, sweaty, the energy a pulsing wave. He's overwhelmed immediately, but it's invigorating. He pushes towards the bar, orders a beer, then cozies himself against the nearest wall.

He sips his drink and watches beautiful men dance and kiss and play, and he wants to be part of it, get out there, find his own person to get close to but--

What if none of this is for him? He feels out of place in his clothes, with his hairstyle, an old version of himself that doesn't belong in this world.

There's a swell of sound at the bar, and he glances over, expecting drunks or fighting. Instead, he sees a guy who makes his plans to leave slip straight from his mind.

He's unlike any other person there, even within his group. Long, curly hair, visible tattoos, ripped black jeans, a faded black t-shirt under a big leather jacket. He moves with purpose and grace, obviously uncaring about fitting in.

Steve can't stop watching him, transfixed. He buys another beer, settles back against his wall. He knows it's weird, but can't bring himself to care. Not when it's helping him feel more comfortable in his own skin.

The guy, he's vibrant, the brightest spot, his laughter reaching Steve even over the pounding music.

He's beautiful.

The lights flash, illuminating his face and recognition hits Steve like a fist. It's Eddie Munson, former freak of Hawkins High.

Steve's spine straightens, chest tightening. He can't believe--I mean there were rumors about Eddie in school, but he's here, right now, in Chicago, and Steve--Steve--

He abandons the remains of his beer, rushing out the door.

---

Steve goes back the next night.

He doesn't mean to; didn't have any plans to do it, but the clock turns to 9 and he pulls on the same slutty jeans, this time with an old blue t-shirt a size too small.

It's not because Eddie could be there again, he reassures himself as he shows the bouncer his ID. It's not like he wants to see him or has been thinking about him nonstop. No, it's because tonight's the night he finally makes a move. He needed a test run to find his footing, but now--

Eddie's at the bar. His hair is pulled up, loose tendrils around his face. No jacket this time; the rolled up sleeves of his black t-shirt showing off his wiry muscles, the swirling ink of his tattoos. Something low and hot clenches in Steve's stomach.

There's no way he's going to be preoccupied with Munson tonight. He came here to flirt and dance and maybe get lucky, and he'll ignore Eddie. He will.

Steve orders a beer, sits at the bar this time, his eyes lingering on black ink and pale skin. No matter how hard he tries, he can't seem to tear his eyes away from the ease and assurance Eddie moves with. He's so unafraid to take up space, it's intoxicating.

He loses track of Munson when he orders a second drink, his face no longer immediately visible in the crowd. Disappointment sinks his stomach until a voice to his left says, "You better be planning to buy me a drink, pretty boy."

The voice is low, oddly melodic, and he turns to find Eddie Munson's sparkling brown eyes gazing down at him. He's surprised, hides it, says, "Sure. What are you having?"

Eddie's mouth opens, but his eyes narrow. "Wait--Steve Harrington??"

"Um." His mouth goes dry. "Munson. Hi?"

"I--uh--wouldn't think this was your scene." Eddie shifts back, puts distance between them, and Steve hates it. Hates that Munson thinks the space is necessary, hates that he used to a person that made people feel that way.

"Yeah, well. A lot has changed since high school."

"Is that right? Surely not this much."

"Wouldn't you like to know."

Eddie's eyebrow lifts, but his mouth is a tight line. "Have a cigarette with me."

Steve nods and follows him out a side door into a narrow alley. Eddie pulls out two cigarettes, hands one to Steve. There's something about the cold politeness that sends a fizzle of disappointment down his spine.

"What brings you here?" Eddie asks.

"To Chicago or to this club?"

"Don't be cute."

"Can't help it." He smirks and Eddie rolls his eyes. "I moved to Chicago three months ago with my best friend, Robin. I'm at this club trying to explore my bisexuality."

Eddie's in the middle of taking a drag, splutters on the smoke. "Holy Shit."

He shrugs, knows he's blushing. "What can I say? I've spent the last few years learning about myself."

"And one of the things was that you like dick?"

"Looks like it."

'Well, goddamn, Steve Harrington."

"Impressed?"

Eddie licks his lips, steps closer. "Maybe I am."

"I aim to please." Steve lets himself grin.

"I bet you do," Eddie's voice goes even lower, and heat dances deep in Steve's stomach. "Wanna dance?"

"Thought you'd never ask." Steve blinks up at Eddie from under his eyelashes.

They go inside and join the bodies packed on the dance floor. At first, they keep their distance, dancing and laughing with an arm's length between them, but it's not long before they're drawn together, arms twining, legs pressed together. Their eyes lock, Steve can't look away, wouldn't even if he wanted to. Eddie's hands go to his waist, pull him closer.

"You're gorgeous, Harrington," he says it with his lips pressed to Steve's ear, goosebumps spreading across his skin.

"Yeah?"

"Can I tell you a secret?"

"Of course."

Eddie's mouth presses closer. "I used to have the biggest crush on you in high school."

"Fuck, Eddie," he says. "That's so--"

"Weird?"

"Fucking hot, dude."

"Can I tell you another secret?" Eddie's voice is all rumble.

"Course,"

"I can't stop thinking about kissing you."

"You could do something about it."

Eddie smiles, eyes going darker, almost predatory. He leans in, their breath mingling, Steve's hitching.

"You sure you want me to?" Eddie asks, mouth barely brushing Steve's.

"Please," and it comes out like he's been punched.

He thinks the kiss will be hard, hot, but Eddie's hand is gentle as it cups the back of his head, slowly pulls him in. It's a soft meeting of mouths, almost tender. His head is swimming, blood thrumming low and hot and sweet. He parts his lips and then all he can feel, taste, sense is Eddie.

It cracks something inside him, and his fingers dig into the fabric of Eddie's shirt, eagerly licking into his mouth. It must crack something in Eddie too, because he's hauling Steve impossibly closer until his legs have to wrap around Eddie's waist, or they're falling.

They break apart with a breathless laugh, both red cheeked and bright eyed. They don't move apart, instead they dance and make out until the music stops and the lights come up.

Eddie twines their fingers together as they walk to the exit, Steve sweaty and elated and a little head over heels.

Out on the sidewalk, basking in the cool air, Eddie stops him. "Can I--uh, take you for a drink? Or back to my place? I don't--not to assume, but I--"

"Both. Anywhere," Steve laughs. "I don't want this night to end."

Eddie's smile is brilliant, heart stopping. "Your wish is my command."

[bethetiesthatbind]

Foundations

I did not know there was a part of myself to be missed,

let alone missing.

I had caught glances in my life,

but only shadows of queer imagination to be shrugged away.

I was fine,

in my own shadows.

Apparently, my eyes were used to the dark.

How could I know

what it is to shine

and embrace my

imago dei

when I thought imago dei was some homogeneous,

conforming thing?

  “Shine” is generous,

for now.

But I cherish the flame I have been given.

My flame was not sudden,

but a slow burning pin of light through a magnifying glass.

What a strange warming of my heart, I wondered,

before I noticed the fire.

My Love, they saw it first,

But knew it had to be a surprise

for me to discover Myself.

  When a fire starts, it creeps quietly

until it is finally seen and then it is impossibly big.

Like,

how could I have missed

the warmth?

What,

the fuck?

  First my heart, then my bones.

This Holy fire spread through my spine, my skin, my head...

Where did my whole self

come from?

Where did you come from?

How did you step out of the shadows?

Might I take your hand and step out

with you,

splendent you,

one day?

  I used the magnifying glass to examine inside the window it burned open:

a secret room I had been living with all along.

I walked around my secret-from-me room,

sat upon its furniture,

read in there sometimes.

  I’ve since brought my room vases of flowers

for the coffee table,

to make up for lost time

and to celebrate the present

gift.

There is a welcome mat to this room,

but I have not put it out.

It’s there, rolled up against the coatrack.

  I stepped outside my new room again

to understand the spatial makeup of my body.

Could I notice where my new room

fit in the foundations

now that I know it’s there?

I had not bothered to look,

before.

And you,

dazzling-you, the one who stepped out from my shadows,

your body is like mine.

I had not noticed,

before.

My body.

  Your foundations are marvelous, sound.

With the flame I have been given,

I held a candle between our two selves

and I could cry but I am bathed in wondrous light;

could I never before have noticed the beauty of my foundations?

Can I

adore

my foundations,

the way I find I adore yours?

  I see for myself a new home,

The same one My Love saw for me.

It is a bigger space, with a window, in which to fill my whole, holy self,

and my flame

on the coffee table

with the flowers,

to read in there sometimes.

  This little light of mine,

I wanna let you shine;

cherished light of mine...

  Thank you.

[livinginadumpster]

The way Dead Boy Detectives handles queerness and labeling of sexuality is honestly so refreshing. The way it's handled makes is very obvious that it's not the kind of media in which characters are assumed straight until proven otherwise; the characters' sexualities are left undefined because the focus isn't on specific labels, it's on the relationships between characters.

As the show goes on, it becomes abundantly clear that the characters' sexualities are a non-factor. Sure, Jenny dates women, but a label is never put on that. Same with Edwin - he is clearly interested in men, but not once in the show is he labeled as gay. It's not necessary in either case; labeling these characters wouldn't add anything to their stories or character arcs. The show is completely relaxed about labels because they're almost never a part of or even relevant to the plot.

And so, in a show that is so utterly unconcerned with labels, it would also be exceeding strange to impose the label of "straight" on any character. Characters like Charles and Crystal, who clearly demonstrate attraction to the opposite gender, don't come across as strictly heterosexual, they come across as people experiencing human emotions. And a character like Niko, who never expresses romantic attraction to anyone, really can't be assumed heterosexual either, because it simply wouldn't be in line with what we know about her.

Heterosexuality never comes across as the default in this universe. It never seemed as if the writers automatically assumed any character, no matter how background, to be straight. Queerness is explored not as a defiance of the norm but as just another way of loving someone. In a world where being queer is always viewed as alternate or deviant, and where coming out is a lifelong process that begins again every time you meet someone new because you're always assumed cishet, this kind of complete abolishment of heteronormativity is a breath of fresh air. Seeing queerness handled in such a casual way onscreen honestly feels a little bit revolutionary.

[yannaryartside]

I hope we as a fandom, can collectibly agree in one thing about Sydney that was no previously established or hinted in previous seasons:

My girl has GAME

I don't want to hear anything contrary because she was described as awkward in many interactions, but it was mostly in situations when she had to take power when she was insecure about it. The situation with Marcus caught her by surprise, not to mention how incredibly uncomfortableit was.

But here she was just asking questions to peers and later with her typical mannerisms she maintained a pretty personal conversation with Luca. They clicked and it was kinda first sight.

Like, she has this blonde, tall, muscle ass British man giggling and kicking his feet after two conversations. The power this woman holds.

[baelavelaryon]

a thing about the witcher books's perception that drives me insane is that you'll have people who've straight up never read them saying "oh aren't they super problematic tho???" based on the testimony of people who ALSO haven't read them but heard from someone who read them and didn't like them that they're bad.

like i'll use the example that I had before i read the books: there's a scene in blood of elves where ciri is like "the girls at school told me virgins can't do magic! i'm bad at magic because i'm a virgin! i'm gonna lose my virginity [at 13]" and yeah ok if you phrase it like that with zero context it sounds insane.

but the CONTEXT IS. ciri has just fumbled her crush, she's failing magic class, the other girls hate her because she's getting extra attention from the teachers, and her mean teacher mum (who's literally the hottest woman alive) keeps on calling her "ugly one". she's in a CRISIS and decides to link all of her self esteem issues into one thing that she can fix!!!

and literally the next line is yennefer saying "ok look if you want to have sex i won't stop you,, even though you're too young imo. but where the hell have you gotten this "virgins can't do magic" bs because i have a master's degree in sorcery (and didn't have sex until my 20s) and it's news to me!!"

but then you'll have people go "In the Witcher is sooooo misogynistic the lore says virgins can't do magic" like that wasn't textually folklore that was complete rubbish.

[epiphainie]

this post is only for the select few but sometimes i think about bucktommy going to a gay club and buck dancing and making out with other guys while tommy watches them and he's totally absolutely completely turned on by the fact that he's being watched while tommy's turned on by the knowledge that at the end of the night - at the end of every night - he's the one who buck will go home with anyway

[butch-enjoyer-omo]

Props to the nonsexual omo enjoyers but personally I wanna fuck nasty

[stagefoureddiediaz]

The Helena diaz of it all has me fascinated. I’ve said for a long while that Eddie’s real issues are his mommy issues and this episode just cemented for me that we’re gonna explore that and deal with it.

Because it’s Helena who forced Eddie to grow up to fast - because her husband wasn’t around much - so she pushed Eddie into de facto parent and husband role ls - selfishly filling her needs and ignoring the damage it was doing to her son (it is a form of abuse in my book).

Eddie then had the audacity to fall in love with and marry Shannon and get her pregnant. It’s why Helena was always so off with Shannon - she was punishing her. She is also punishing Eddie for all of this and his refusal to return to El Paso only cemented further her bitterness and resentment.

Now she does have Ramon back she doesn’t need Eddie any longer to fill that role so she is still punishing him and part of that is tied into her glee over now getting to parent Christopher - something she has always been intent on doing the doppelgänger just gave her the opportunity- as well as allowing her to further punish her son and his love of Shannon.

Her barbed comments about building a pool were all about showing what she can provide Christopher - how she is parenting him better than Eddie - it’s part of her mind games - making Eddie feel like more of a failure as a parent to his son.

The reality of course is that the reverse is true - Helena’s parenting is all superficial, flash and showy - it isn’t the hard day to day parenting when things get tough and you have to be the bad guy. While Eddie has made mistakes, there is nothing superficial, flash, or showy about his parenting. It’s why bucks comments about Eddie being a great dad are so important.

Eddie feel like a failure right now and that he is entirely to blame for everything. But in reality, while he does bear a bit of the responsibility, the truth of the matter is that he needs to learn and deal with the fact that all of it actually stems from Helena and her abuse of her young son - Shannon never stood a chance just like Eddie never has.

[hairmetal666]

NSFW; Modern AU

Eddie feels like the luckiest man alive, that he gets to count Steve Harrington and Robin Buckley as his best friends, but he wasn't sure about it at first. No matter how often his new little sheepies praised Steve, Eddie remembered high school. He remembered the Steve that was a grade-A, top-choice asshole. But then--Robin comes out to him. And Steve knows. Steve knows and he's cool about it. So, Eddie comes out to them and Steve is cool about that too.

It fucks Eddie up a little, if he's being honest. Like, Steve, objectively, is hot, but Eddie's only ever been superficially attracted to him. He thinks the whole jock archetype just doesn't do a lot for him. Too much negativity attached to their whole thing. But he'd be lying if he said part of him isn't intrigued.

He doesn't develop a crush on Steve, though. Somehow, through all the charm and bitchiness and not-so-secret kindness, his heart remains unmoved. It must be the jock thing.

And then he's scrolling on Twitter. He's scrolling on Twitter and he's not looking for porn, not even in a "Oh no, I never look at porn on the internet" way, and there's this video.

The first thing he sees is the lowered waist band of a pair of 90's-style basketball shorts, Pacers logo just visible. Then it's the long fingers, the broad hands. They're skimming down a tanned, toned torso, not a six-pack but it's somehow sexier this way. Their path draws Eddie's eyes to the dot of moles, the spread of freckles. They're so kissable, Eddie's mouth waters. Those fingers, they linger against the trimmed thatch of dark hair just peaking out over the elastic, before pulling that waistband lower.

Eddie's hard. Rock hard. Fuck, he's so hard a wind gust could make him come.

The guy on screen, he's got his gorgeous dick in hand, giving himself slow strokes and thumbing at the tip to collect the obvious slickness beading there.

It's not really a decision when Eddie unzips and shoves his jeans just low enough to take himself in hand. On screen, the hand speeds up, the stomach shivering, breath coming in soft bursts, somehow almost more intoxicating than the jerking off.

Eddie times his strokes with the video, coming apart faster than he ever has watching porn. He can tell the guy is close, his grip goes tighter, his breath shorter. Eddie's about to go off like a fucking rocket.

The hand stills, the guy's cock fucking quivers, and he's ready for the money shot, will totally come at the same time, except--it doesn't happen.

The screen goes black.

Eddie comes all over himself.

"Fuck, shit, goddamnit," he hisses. He flails around trying to find something to clean himself up with and pause the video so he can read the fucking text.

As wiped up as he can be without showering, Eddie runs the video back a few seconds to see the words, "want the full experience? Subscribe to my OnlyFans."

He's never clicked a link so fast in his life. He's never really explored OnlyFans before, but he signs up for the free trial without a second thought.

The guy's username is KingJock016 and under usual circumstances, Eddie would be disgusted, but it's too late for that. He's already scrolling through thumbnails of hands and dicks and asses and butt plugs and dildos, pausing briefly at a preview of one where KingJock is bent at the waist, perfect ass--dotted with freckles-- framed by the bands of a jock strap. He's deliciously hairy, deliciously ripe, and Eddie is firming up again.

Without fully meaning to, he hits play, and the video starts with KingJock already rocking his cock into his fist. He's moaning in this one, full throated, almost desperate. And there's something about it, something that catches in Eddie's brain, but he can't focus on that when he's watching KingJock trace a finger around his own asshole.

It's insane that Eddie is this far gone without seeing the guy's face, that his toes are curling at the mere sight of KingJock fucking himself. The sounds are obscene, the slick and snap of skin on skin, the throaty moans, the creak of the bed as KingJock rocks into his fist and back onto his fingers.

Eddie's not even touching himself, and he's already standing at complete attention, a heady ache already starting in his balls.

And then KingJock flips his head back, revealing a shock of chestnut hair, the taut lines of a mole-kissed throat, the hard line of a jaw. One eye flashes open, looks directly at the camera, at Eddie.

It's fucking Steve Harrington.

Eddie comes all over himself again.

It's Steve. His best friend, Steve. His straight best friend. Making content clearly targeted for queer men? I mean, Eddie can't fault him. Like, nice work if you can get it, but Steve???

He hasn't done anything to clean up because his thoughts are spiraling too hard. How long has this been going on? Does Robin know? Should Eddie subscribe ? Leave a comment about how this video made him come untouched? Join a live? No, no, of course not. Steve was his real life friend. He couldn't hang out with him and then watch him fuck himself on a wall-mounted dildo.

He hits subscribe though. He'll hate himself for it later. It's only for the trial period, anyway.

He wipes himself off, but the come is already drying, sticky, against his skin and in his body hair. He needs a shower. He needs to practice being normal around Steve now that he--

Shit, Steve. They're going to the movies tonight. Steve's supposed to pick him up in, shit, fuck twenty minutes.

Eddie hurls himself into the shower, moves so quickly he doesn't really have time to think about Steve having an OnlyFans, about how hard he got off to his friend, about how he keeps having flashes of Steve's perfect body play through his head.

It's hard to ignore it when Steve is standing at his door in his form hugging jeans and little t-shirt and Eddie's done for, a dead man; here lies Eddie Munson. He's just standing in the doorway, smiling at Steve and he knows it's manic, but he can't slip it.

"Are you okay?" Steve asks. Eddie hears the words but all it does is remind him of KingJock's breathy moans.

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" He keeps smiling.

Steve's eyes narrow. He leans into Eddie's space. "Did you drop acid again? We told you not to do it alo--"

"I didn't! Nothing's wrong."

"Your face is all flushed. You feeling okay? You could have a fever."

Before Eddie can react, Steve's resting the back of his hand on his forehead. Eddie flinches, swatting Steve away, which devolves into a brief slap fight.

"I don't have a fever, man. I'm fine. Hot shower, is all."

"If you say so. Ready to get going?"

Eddie nods. He can totally do this. He can pretend he doesn't know about the OnlyFans and the face Steve makes when he's about to come.

The drive is quiet. Too quiet. He thinks his bones are trying to rip through his skin.

He starts talking, isn't even tracking what he's saying. Dnd and then suddenly it's hobbits and then Star Trek for reasons even he doesn't comprehend. He glances over at Steve, and he's burnished golden from the light of the setting sun. He's so beautiful. How did Eddie miss it all this time? Why did he--

"Get any new subscribers lately?" He hears come out of his mouth.

Steve slams on the breaks, sending Eddie careening into he dashboard.

"Jesus Christ, what the fuck," Eddie shrieks. The car behind them lays on the horn, then speeds past when it's clear they aren't moving.

"Why are you saying what the fuck at me?" Steve hisses back. He hits the gas, pulling the car to the side of the road. "Eddie--what the fuck?"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he chants. He hides his head in his hands. "I didn't mean to--I'm so fucking sorry."

"How'd you find it?"

Eddie snorts. "One of your videos showed up on my TL. That's the algorithm for you."

"Jesus christ," Steve mutters. "You weren't supposed to--it's--"

"What are you even doing, man?"

"My Family Video salary won't cut it, if we're moving to Indy."

"You're not even gay."

Steve mumbles something, but he's looking out the window and not at Eddie at all.

"What was that?"

"Maybe I am!" Steve doesn't shout, but it's forceful.

Eddie's mouth drops. "Does Robin know?"

Steve stares forward, hands tightening on the wheel.

"And you didn't tell me?" It hurts, he's surprised how much, so much it takes his breath.

"It wasn't like that, Ed."

"Oh, no? Then what was it like?"

"It doesn't matter."

"The fuck it doesn't! I'm the first person you should've come to! I know exactly what it's like."

"No, you don't." Steve explodes. "You don't because you made me realize. And I couldn't talk to you about it because I like you. And, yeah, maybe starting an OnlyFans as part of my gay awakening is weird to you, but it's done a lot for me, okay?"

Steve said a lot of stuff just there, a lot of important things, but Eddie's glitched out on one part. "You like...me?"

"Yeah, like. Have you met you?" Steve slumps in his seat, like he's defeated. "You're fucking beautiful, dude. And smart and funny and passionate. Nerdy as hell. I didn't stand a chance."

"But I'm--" Eddie shakes his head. "I mean, look at me."

"I have." Steve nods. "A lot. I really like what I see."

"When I realized it was you in those videos, I came all over myself. Untouched," Eddie blurts. He flushes deep crimson immediately. "Oh my god, I can't believe I just--"

Steve is laughing, hands pressed over his mouth.

"Shut up, shut up," Eddie swipes at him. "It's not funny, oh my god."

When Steve gets it together, he finally looks at Eddie, and there's pink in his cheeks and a shine to his eyes. "That might be the most gratifying thing anyone has ever said to me."

"Yeah, well. It was humiliating."

"It's hot, Eddie."

His blush hasn't cooled even a bit. "Yeah?" His voice comes out deep, husky.

"I wouldn't mind, uh--that is, if it's cool with you--seeing it for myself?"

Eddie giggles. "You wanna make me come untouched, sweetheart?"

Steve shifts in his seat. "I'd really like that. Will you let me?"

"Uh-huh, absolutely, definitely. If you don't put this car in drive and get us back to my place, I'm going to literally die."

Steve laughs again, a bright, free thing, and he swings back onto the road. "Not yet, you aren't."

That sends a shock of pleasant shivers down Eddie's spine, right to his dick.

"Maybe we can even make a video together sometime."

Eddie, much to his deep embarrassment, whines, hips shifting with the sudden need for relief. "Oh, you didn't want me to die before because this is how you're planning on killing me."

Steve turns to him, a smirk on his lips and a devilish glint in his eye. "You have no idea what I'm going to do to you."

[tls12lessthan3]

thinking about orvs metatextual engagement with its genre and specifically how that interacts with its women again. kim dokja is a self insert for the reader - what he thinks is largely meant to represent what we think, especially in the beginning before sing shong really fleshes out his character. kim dokja sees the world through tropes, directly acknowledging the genre around him and the cliches we expect e.g. the overpowered mc, the scheming villain, the beautiful heroine.

but a major part of his arc is deconstructing this reductionist view of the world in a way that parallels the author's deconstruction of the genre, and that plays really well with the way orv writes women. yoo sangah is perhaps the best exanple - shes introduced as the heroine, a one-dimensional pretty girl who in any other novel would become kim dokja's love interest. but the authors allow her to be her own character, directly challenging the stereotype of the heroine and calling attention to the genre's typical lack of depth for such a character. i think this undercurrent plays in the background often but really comes to the forefront when yoo sangah reminds kim dokja of her putting pepper in their bosses' coffee, a memory kim dokja had supressed because it didn't fit with the pretty girl persona he made for her.

i interpret that moment as yoo sangah pushing her way out of the mold of heroine often found in these stories, demanding a depth be added to her character, asking kim dokja - and thus the reader - to see her in her entirety, to see the heroine archetype for what she could be. orv is at all times in conversation with its genre, and its simultaneous writing of female characters with agency and depth and acknowledgement of the tropes these women are expected to fulfill is undeniably a part of that. and its a part i enjoy. most of the time.

[sualne]

kiss you in aroace, and we're both boys.

[elodieunderglass]

Ok so you and I are meeting up. Maybe in your home territory, or maybe somewhere that you know well - don’t doxx yourself - but we are meeting up to explore something particularly. you are in charge of picking the museum, bog, weird antique store, bog, bookshop, bog, gallery, arboretum, botanical garden, show, or bog. Where are you showing me and why?

[dad-galaxy]

🐊🦩

[xiulric]

shen qingqiu thrives with goals, he's actually a driven person. He didn't know this of himself before transmigrating; his comfortable life as a third son meant his parents didnt have big expectations of him.

It's until he transmigrates that he realizes he likes being reliable, likes being a teacher. His knowledge, which was just nerdy trivia in his previous life, becomes life saving and he eagerly seeks more information in Qing Jing's library.

SQQ was able to flourish into himself after transmigrating. And I love that for him.

[ggardengirl]

he was just a fucking kid 💔💔

[v-a-l]

We don’t talk enough about how every institution Sirius should have been able to put his trust in betrayed him at some point. From his parents to his friends, to the light side he left everything for, to the dark side he would give anything not to be in.

The greatest irony of Sirius, is that for a person who is literally distinguished by his loyalty, a character who let himself be tortured to the brink in Wizarding hell for twelve years simply because he trusted the wrong person, a person whose animagus is literally a dog, is this: He would die, die after being kept in a cage at the urging of Albus Dumbledore and the Order he sacrificed his family for and then murdered by that very family itself. That he’d fall only after he has been utterly ruined by everyone he ever loved, everyone who he should have been able to trust, down to his house elf.

Sirius was 21 years old and lost his entire twenties to Azkaban because even Dumbledore who would bat for reformed Death Eaters and students rearing murderous spiders in his school wouldn’t consider giving him so much as a trial.

Friendly reminder that he wasn’t just locked up in a cell and left there, this was his state of affairs:

“…. he was one of the most heavily guarded in the place, you know. Dementors outside his door day and night.”

And we can infer, considering that he was a barely legal soldier raised in an abusive household that that was not a cakewalk. Dementors are terrifying torture machines even for the well adjusted let alone the traumatised.

It also speaks a lot about why he gives himself to James with such abandon and why no one else will ever hold that position in Sirius’ life. James is the only person to ever to take that love, that trust, that faith and to nurture it, protect it, to worship it. He’s Sirius’ guardian and Sirius’ salvation and Sirius’ font of security. Is it truly such a surprise that Sirius never quite recovers from his death? With James gone, where else could he go?

Sirius was the Brightest Star in the sky and apparently the only thing Death Eaters and the Order of the Phoenix could agree upon is snuffing out his light.