#sexuality themes

[hilsonrecsmd]

Founded Accusations 

by dovand

teen | comp. | 1.3k ; pre-slash + coming out

summary: House and Wilson have a very normal conversation.

House narrows his eyes, leaning in to inspect his friend’s body language. “You’re gay,” House says again, just to see what he does.

ao3 comment: GreenKitchenWalls commented -

Heyo! House and Wilson’s silly little absolutely, totally platonic banter WAS very enjoyable actually. Made me smile, especially the lil neurotic throwing away of the chocolate wrapper bit. very big friends(+?) who've known each other for a long time and are comfortable with with other. Also, very noice Good Omens moment! My immediate thought when I saw that + knowing this would have gay banter was "gayer than a tree full of monkeys high on nitrous acid" Thank you!

[dnfao3tags]

DNF Reclist - Theme: LGBTQ+

pride month may be over but lgbtq+ pride stands strong all year long! marking the end of june, here are some queer related fics for you to read and hopefully relate to.

Pride Parade

— Radio Wires (Soldered To My Heart) by ivegivenuponyou (expl. | comp. | 7k)

Dream and George celebrate their first pride together.

— we sing it proudly by jack_not_found (teen | comp. | 3k)

the first time george goes to pride, and the first time george feels like he belongs at pride.

Sexuality

— revelation by ffnppnOF (ffonippop) (expl. | comp. | 28k)

There’s nothing wrong with George. Everyone tells him so. But nobody has ever known anything because if nothing was wrong with George, he wouldn’t be suffering the way he is, rosary around his neck more like a collar or a rope, tying him to a lady he can’t love and a man he’s not allowed to love. George’s God is a lover of purity, and he forgives him. George’s lover is purity incarnate, and she loves him sweeter than he deserves. George’s guilty pleasure has eyes the color of ivy and damnation and apples that fall from trees too early. Come Sunday, George will be gone, gone, gone.

— zero by saintaches (expl. | comp. | 63k)

Dream isn't sure when George became so fucking pretty, but he's certain he can't fall in love with him. They're both omegas, after all.

note: this still counts in my books

— Fantasize About by genovashroom (expl. | wip | 5k+)

At twenty-six, George is terminally alone and having a long overdue sexuality crisis. The soulmark on his wrist says what it has since he was twenty: Clay. Unmistakably a man’s name. He’s tired of burying his head in the sand, and hoping things will sort themselves out without him. He’s tired of pretending if he wishes it away hard enough, the name will change to a woman’s. And so, in order to come to terms with his prophesied homosexuality and self-destructive loneliness, he pulls a Hail Mary and calls a phone sex line, where he meets Dream.

— r/WhoTheFuckIsDNF by furculaed (teen | comp. | 30k)

I (22 M) fell in love with my best friend (25 M) and I don’t know what to do. I love him, please help.

note: some more reddit fics that fit here, here and here

— drink it down by 21questions (mat. | comp. | 3k)

George's a storm. Dream's a hurricane. Somehow, they mix.

— i wanna stay here forever by cqfnce (teen | comp. | 3k)

Dream and George talk about love, sexuality, and metaphors on the couch in the house built for them

— Pink Carnations by ivegivenuponyou (mat. | comp. | 7k)

Dream asks him about his love life sometimes, pesters him with questions about if he wants a girlfriend, if he’s ever had a girlfriend, if he even likes girls at all, and Sapnap laughs along, teasing him in the same way. It’s always the same answers. No, yes, mind your business. Not always in that order. He’d rather spend his time on the phone with his friends, anyway. He’d take Dream’s laughter in his ears over the company of anyone else.

— What You Want by Bagelrites (SleepyAmie) (mat. | comp. | 2k)

A failed attempt at sex leaves Dream a crying mess, and George is there to comfort him, despite all his fears to the contrary.

Genderqueer 

— boys and girls and punctuation by ffnppnOF (ffonippop) (mat. | comp. | 7k)

George’s identity is fortified heavily by his self expression, and the ways in which he expresses himself is constantly changing, constantly shifting, constantly inconsistent. But he’s always found security in knowing that, no matter how inconsistent he may be, no matter how far away he strays from masculinity, he’s still a boy. And there is safety in that. It’s the one consistent thing he has. But recently, everything he’s ever known about being a boy has been fracturing. The next most constant thing he’s ever known is Dream.

— Pretty Boys by Anonymous (mat. | comp. | 2k)

george has a crisis

note: also sexuality related!

— my girl’s made of peaches and soft grass and the moonlight by timelimez (expl. | comp. | 9k)

“George is like, Dream’s girlfriend or something,” Sapnap said, the rest of the Discord call erupting in laughter. “You’re so stupid.” George huffed, leaning back in his chair with a pout that no one could see. He wasn’t streaming, but one of their friends was, meaning that the line would inevitably be clipped to hell and back.  The weirdest part, though, was that hearing the word girlfriend be used to refer to himself made George feel… something. He didn’t quite know yet. But it wasn’t a bad feeling, that was for sure. “Aw, George, it’s okay. You can be my little girlfriend if you want.” Dream teased, before erupting in a wheezing laugh that was soon backed by the laughter of the rest of their friends. “Whatever.” George laughed it off. It was definitely not whatever.

Part 2 of it’s all for you (it’s always for you)

its pretty late and this was kind of a last minute decision thing so that's all for now! check out my sexuality themes or genderqueer tag for more :] send me in more recs if you'd like. happy late pride.

will post june's roundup a little later this week.

[virtual-kangel]

antis: *enjoying media with dark themes like murder, drug trafficking, abuse, etc *

also antis when the media becomes even remotely sexual:

[paperlignes]

The Wrath of the Lamb Hannibal, (2013-2015)

[threepandas]

Bad End: Eve

You know how most Otome games are vaguely historical? Usually some non-specific mishmash of European countries? But fluffier and with more bows? It had once "gotten" to me, I think. I remember looking for outliers. Non-joke ones. Something that wasn't just "but this time with hats!"

I found one.

And now? Now I'm not sure if I curse that day or thank whatever force of nature lead me there. I guess... I guess it depends. Would I still have ended up HERE? If I had not found it? If so, then I genuinely and actually fucking rue it. Like... like actual "you'll rue the day! Bwahaha!" Type rue it. That's me. Ruing.

But? If it was always going to happen?

Then I guess...

I guess I'm weirdly glad. Because at least I have some fucking idea of what's going ON. Terrible, as it all is. Fucked, as the situation is. At least I'm not... not confused. Blind and at the mercy of those around me. Ignorance truely isn't bliss. All it does is leave you to try an fill in the blanks yourself. Usually with something far worse.

Not that the situation could GET much worse, by much.

I was in an Otome game. NOT a flower, high society, and dragons kind either. No. I? Was in a Dark Sci-Fi otome game. "Fate of man" was thrown around a lot. Power of luuuuv~ and such. Also, you know, HORRIFIC ethical violations. Human experimentation. Cataclysmic events and humanity "starting over".

All the high drama sci-fi concepts you could expect. It was a romp. Had good art. I'd had fun! Which is why I remember it so clearly.

Less fun when you're IN IT.

When you AREN'T one of the characters you KNOW will survive.

In fact, are one of the characters you know WON'T fucking survive. And will probably die MESSY. Horribly. Cause see, our BELOVED Harem collecting Protagonist? She? Was AN Eve. "AN".

Take a wild fucking guess what THAT project is about.

Did you say "breeding a better race of humans"? Ding ding ding! With humanity currently fucked, they want to FIX the problem by FIXING humanity. And of course, fuck ethics! Volunteers? Why use those?! Let's horrifically mad scientist our way to atrocity-ville! Make it all the more "God rightfully punishing us for our unforgivable sins" when we get wiped out!

Fffffffuck YOU, plot! I have to live here too!

You may, in fact, be picking up a slight note of stir crazy. A "wow, this lady rambles like a mother fucker" vibe. You would TOO, if you were stuck in a FUCKING TUBE. All I can do, day in and day out? Is wake, think, observe, then go right back to sleep. I can't even eat! I got a TUBE for that!

I... I miss showers.

Everything is GOO.

I'm an Eve. And if it weren't for the air tube controlng my breathing? I'd laughing hysterically until I died. And no, not in the "oh how funny" way. God. Oh... oh god. What a way to die. NONE of the Eves survive "the program".

Those IDIOTS are so OBSESSED with making bigger and bigger, better and better, FUCKING JUGGERNAUTS? That the Adams? Have long since reached the point of "mindless killing machine". UNSTABLE is putting it lightly. There is sexual dimorphism and then there's literal incompatibility.

But GOD FORBID the scientists admit that THEY are the ones with the inferior product.

It... it was even part of the game's plot. The scientist who made "Eve" HID her while HE made an Adam. I do not have that luxury. Somewhere, there is an unstable BESERKER being told I'm his "wife". That we're going to be HAPPY together. That he'll get to put his bruising, blood soaked hands anywhere he WANTS... just after he WINS me from the other Adam's.

Got to prove HE'S the best specimen, after all.

It makes my skin crawl. All I can hope, is that I can either provoke the bastard enough to kill me before they have a chance to stop him, or? I use my own enhanced strength to snap my neck. Maybe bite my tounge. Like HELL am I letting an Adam get near me.

The hiss of laboratory doors.

"Perfection at last..." Comes a relieved sigh. "All those HIDEOUS specimens. Why they make me suffer them, I'll never understand. We should have terminated them months ago. My poor project, they really think they're WORTHY of you..."

There's a derisive laugh. The scientist strolling into the lab I've been developing in, familiar. I watch him casually shrug off his lab coat and dump is bag. Hang his coat over the back of his chair. Turn, as he does each day, to STARE up at me. His eyes are a pale, pale purple the likes of which I've never seen before.

They're HAUNTING.

There is almost a red tint to them, though maybe that's the lights. The goo. I can never tell. He always looks ENTRANCED by me. Floating, visored, connected to far too many tubes an' wires. I'd think it was the fact that I was naked if it weren't for the way his gaze doesn't seem to drift lower then my shoulders. Seems more entranced by the way my hair moves, as though under water.

I've never once heard him talk about me lustfully.

But that doesn't mean he doesn't SCARE me.

"Let's begin, shall we? Time for your daily doses, mmm?" He says, voice dangerously affectionate. As though i had CHOSEN to do this to myself. As though he were merely reminding me of my morning medicine and not the hell ahout to come. "Going to be good for me? I know you shall, you always are."

He turned back to his desk, his computer. A few keystrokes... and I could feel the pod above me begin to hum, as it awoke. Oh god. Oh god it never got easier. From the corner of my eyes, bright chemicals slide down thind lines and into my veins. Like lines of lava. Bolts of electricity and pain. It was... AGONY.

My muscles seized. Brain screeched, first to the screaming I wish I could make... then static. With the long practice of daily pain, it took me far away. The click, click, click of keys. The sound of his voice, so terribly PLEASED, as I hung there and just TOOK it. No restraints, no strugging, no damaging myself. Just unbearable fire in my veins and a brain far, far away.

"Good girl~"

Distantly a phone rang. He made an annoyed sound, but picked up regardless.

"What. I'm in the middle of- ...Excuse me? I'm quite sure I did not hear you correctly. I said 'NO'. She's not-....I will NOT BE-...What. Are you out of your god damned MIND? That pile of scraps you call a project is coming NOWHERE near my-! ....you think you're clever, don't you?"

"Fine. You want to TALK? Let's TALK, Anderson. I'll be there in five."

From far away, past the pain, I watched him chance down at something at the screen. Back up to me. He hung up the phone but did not pause the program. Instead, calmly rising from his desk. Shrugging on his lab coat. Rounding the desk and striding towards my bio-tube.

"Hmmm, honestly, it should have been spaced out over a few more days... but you can take it. Endure a bit longer for me, would you, darling? Daddy's going to go deal with something for just a moment, he'll be right back, my perfect girl. Be good."

He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to my tank. One hand splayed next to it like he badly wished he could touch. Could stroke skin. Hold his creation close. It was not the first time he had done this. Small, covetous, little actions like he wanted to crawl inside my skin and STAY there. Like he cursed the glass that separated us.

He pulled back. Shifted to the side and kneeled. He... had hidden something behind my bio-pod? When? Apparently before I had become aware. Because I had not known about it. A black shoe box. I watched him open i-GUN. Thaaaat was a gun! Fuck. Well at least? By the time anyone thinks to look in on me? The overdose will probably have killed me?

There is a cold, terrible smile on his face as he rolls to his face. Tucking the gun into an inner pocket. It has a silencer. He leans forward one last time. Lightly kissing the glass of my pod, as though heading off to work and not to very obviously kill somebody. The pain continues. Builds. I watch him leave.

With nothing to anchor myself on... time blurs.

I think? There are alarms? Red lights flash. Then they stop. There is shouting at one point. But then silence. An explosion? Or am I hallucinating? Pain. My nerves are on fire. I don't want to have SKIN. Please... please make it STOP! Calm foot steps? Come to kill me? Please come to kill me. Make it STOP.

The lights died a... time? Ago? Emergency lights on now. Generators in the room are loud. Why can I still hear the feet? Footses? Words. H..hurts. please.

Click.

The pain eases to a stop. Aching but nothing new. Over? Oh, thank god. I can sleep now, right? But... sound? New. At my feet. Gurgling. Wha-? The very top of my head feels cold. Then my forehead. Then my temple's and ears, cheeks, jaw... wait. Is? Is the tube...DRAINING? I open my eyes.

When did I close them?

He's back.

Standing right in front of the tube. Blood staining the hem of his coat, lingering marks of his massacre cleaned but not quite scrubbed from his body. There are little off red stains on his cheek, from what must be blood splatter. They look like tiny freckles.

I'm... I can't...

I reach as the tube down my throat is pulled almost carelessly away by the machine. Choke, suffocate, as the same is done for my air tube. But then it's done... and I can BREATHE under my own power. Gasp and splutter, as the goo sloshes around my knees. Then it's gone. And the tube I've been leaning my weight against is roughly pulled away.

I collapse forward, my muscles having never actually supported me in this life.

Arms catch me. Wrapping me in a possessive hug. A hand immediately burying itself in long uncut hair, even as the other wraps itself around my torso to lean me against his body in a cradle. My face is pressed to his neck by the hand in my hair, cradling my head and neck. I can feel breath against the goo wet crown of my head.

"Finally~" he breaths out, whispering it against me like a sigh. "My beautiful, perfect girl. My darling creation. It took so LONG. Those retrobates interfering at every turn, lusting after you like ANIMALS, trying to keep you from me. Then, worst of all, trying to toss you to some pack of savages? Oh, darling~ Daddy's been so worried for you."

"But we'll be okay now, won't we? I finally have you. All fresh and finally finished. My perfect Eve. You can pick any name you want, of course. You and I will be leaving this ugly little place. Daddy has PLANS. A fresh new world, just for you, sweetheart."

He laughed, his hug tightening in a way that would have left bruises had I been a normal human. Kisses were pressed to my temple. A cheek, rubbed against my hair. He seemed... seemed GIDDY with it. That nothing could stop him now. There was no glass in his way. I could not move yet. My muscles twitched when I tried, but that was it. I wasn't even sure I could talk yet, if I tried.

"Aaah~♡ Welcome to the World, Darling. My Perfection. My Eve. This time no snakes or Adams to tarnish you. To get in your way. Just you and your Father~"

"FOREVER~♡"

Next: ->

[aconstantstateofbladerunner]

Genuinely I think at least 80% of fandom toxicity would vanish overnight if people stopped seeing shipping as the primary way of engaging with media.

I would also personally have more fun and that is the real issue here.

[autisticandroids]

FAMINE: That's one deep, dark nothing you've got there, Dean.

[youtube with closed captions]

dean and his father. dean and his family. dean and how bad it is.

(via @closetoyou1970)

[charmac]

[wizardyandcheesesammich]

Something I love about M!iK and don't really see be often talked about is the morals of the story.

Shonen stories usually have to work under the same story restrictions of "power of friendship" and "we can accomplish anything by never giving up!", and while MIK certainly has that, I adore the way they twist it.

Yes, both tropes are present but taken to their absolute extreme. Power of friendship? Ok, here's a huge cast of characters who are all in some level Extremely Possesive of eachother. Never give up on your dreams? Alright, the cast are literal demons who feed on desire.

And the best part is that this is openly encouraged by the story. The story is saying "Yes, be selfish! Chase what or who you want without any shame! Take what you love and guard it ferociously because it's YOURS and no one is allowed to harm it."

Iruma's character growth is not connected to "how much more powerful can he get?" Or "how much better of a person can he be?". He's already powerful and he's already a deeply good kid. His growth is explicitly about how much more demonic he can be.

How much more tightly can he hold onto his loved ones and his desires.

How much more selfish.

Just how refresing is it to read a story where gluttony is a virtue and a goal?

[bird-and-war]

These panels are so fucking interesting.

The alianation from his peers feels heavy. Denji's expression is distressed while trying to put them by his side but the boys are just there. Quiet and expressionless, not reacting to his emotions, proving him wrong with their silence. Also, they are dressed in a "normal" way and their hats even makes them look a little bit formal, like they had a uniforms (a military one for example. The hats just have that vibe). They also look similar, like a copy, giving a sense of uniformity. Meanwhile, Denji has just a sleeveless shirt and some shorts which someone on twitter pointed out is just the clothes kid denji was wearing some chapters ago. This could mean that Denji is still in a trauma state rooted on his childhood, in contrast to the other boys (forgot their names woops) who got to grown up normally.

Also, I think this is the first timd Denji talks to other men to ask for some form of solidarity or support, appart from Aki. This is clear not only by the dialogue, but also with how Fumi is removed from the picture. This is between them, in a little old "this is between men" (cringe) way and "girls wouldn't understand". He tries to use language usually used in men's conversations and yet, Denji still fails to connect with them. His first called for help to other men is unanswered, as well as his attempt to say that he is just like them. The boys' uniformity evident their shared clothes makes it look like Denji is in fact different to the society and its members as a whole, even if he tries to use its gender concepts and language. At rhe end, Denji is no like the "normal men" of his age. And, if we connect this with the clothes he is wearing, we could say that he can't be like the others because of his upbringing.

The fact that denji's panel goes all the way down to the end of the page while the other panel doesn't is interesting. I am not sure what that could mean but maybe is something about how profound is Denji's trauma which makes him understand his sexuality differently. Or it could be another way enhance more the difference between Denji and his peers. Or to point out that Denji, the individual, is different to the men produced by the society, who are in an horizontal panel that makes them one.

[thevioletcaptain]

forever thinking about the fact that at the start of 2.13 houses of the holy -- according to the display on his phone -- dean's listening to one of the parts of kashmir where robert plant is just moaning and wailing before launching into a whole rambly bit about being "on my way" and wanting to "take you there"

and while he's listening to the aforementioned moaning & wailing & rambling, he's "enjoying" the vibrating bed and making this face:

like it's no wonder sam was kinda grossed out when he got back to the motel and accused dean of enjoying the magic fingers too much.

anyway, it's genuinely a crime that they couldn't afford led zeppelin for the spn soundtrack because it would've made this moment even better than it already is. and it's already pretty damn great.

[ingravinoveritas]

Hello, lovely followers! I know there is lots of fandom goodness to talk about right now (especially with us being on the eve of the BAFTAs), but I had to share some personal news: I went to a gala myself last night, where I received an award! These are just a few pictures that I wanted to share from the occasion, and to let you know why I'm still working on my response to your Asks (which I will have done soon!). ❤️❤️