#axis of homophobia

[tomorrowusa]

Putin's Russia is part of an Axis of Homophobia which includes Iran, Orbán's Hungary, the GOP in the US, Uganda, Afghanistan, and others.

The resistance of many Republicans to giving aid to Ukraine may partly be because they see Putin as a kindred spirit.

Of course a loss for Putin would also mean a major defeat for hatred against the LGBTQ+ community. Putin is currently the most high profile homophobe on Earth.

Russia outlaws all LGBTQ+ groups & people as “extremist” threats

While not perfect, Ukraine has a more tolerant attitude and has Pride parades and LGBTQ members of its armed forces. An early victim of Russia's terrorist war against Ukraine was Elya Shchemur – a Kharkiv Pride activist who was killed in the Russian bombardment of Ukraine's second largest city.

Perhaps Putin fears that a NATO Ukraine might turn Russia gay. 🏳️‍🌈

[canichangemyblogname]

I think a lot of you on here wildly misunderstand intersectionality. Because it accounts for the fact that men are not oppressed for being men *and* the fact that man-ness is and has been inaccessible to black, brown, indigenous, disabled, and queer men. Man-ness is narrowly defined to exclude the most, but that does not negate that men are not oppressed for being men. One may, however, be oppressed for not fitting into that narrow definition of manhood.

Intersectionality accounts for the fact that white women are oft second best in a racialized sex-caste system. It accounts for the fact that they, too, oversaw the plantation and garnered wealth on the backs of enslaved men and women. It accounts for the fact that white women were the homemakers of the land they or their people helped steal and the mothers of children meant to supplant the indigenous population of the area. And it accounts for the fact that denying black men and gay men and disabled men access to manhood was a way to also strip them of personhood. Because humans have a gender; animals only have a sex.

It accounts for the fact that M > F is not the sole or predominant dynamic in the world, but is only one dynamic. It accounts for the fact that a woman (often white) can hold all the cards and the sociopolitical power in a relationship (dynamic) when the other half of that dynamic experiences specific marginalizations. It accounts for the fact that blackness and transness affect a man’s relationship with manhood and the sex caste system.

And it accounts for the fact that while men may be oppressed, they are not oppressed *for* being men.

[a-random-person-on-the-interent]

Guys I found them the mythical homophobic hetalia fan

in all seriousness what the fuck, who just announces they're homophobic

[ceilidhtransing]

Something that's so important to grasp is that oppression fundamentally isn't about the nuances of your identity; it's about how a bigot sees you.

Straight people can experience homophobia (think of women with short hair just assumed to be lesbians, or flamboyant men who apparently “must be” gay). Non-Jewish people can experience antisemitism (perhaps because some fascist looked at them or heard their name and decided they were “definitely Jewish”). Non-Muslims can experience Islamophobia (Sikhs who wear turbans, for instance, are frequent targets of Islamophobic violence).

If you're the target of some bigot's homophobia, or transphobia, or antisemitism, or racism, or ableism, or whatever, then the fact that you're not actually gay or trans or Jewish etc doesn't change the nature of the bigotry.

I see this idea so often that trans men in particular are “misgendering ourselves” when discussing experiences of misogyny. But misogyny doesn't neatly contain itself to the contours of womanhood. It's not bigotry that delineates the boundaries of identities, full stop. Being a man won't stop some people from being misogynistic shitheads to you, nor does that experience make you any less of a man. It's the bigots who are doing the misgendering, not us.

It's really time to get rid of this personal-identity-focused view of prejudice and oppression, and instead see these as complex social systems that are inflicted in an often scattergun way on anyone whom the bigot thinks is an appropriate target, not just those who on paper fall into certain categories.

[llycaons]

I don't feel like arguing w strangers on the internet today so if you really feel that transandrophobia is a genuine axis of oppression and that misandry is just as real as misogyny go read whipping girl by julia serano. or block me. idc I'm not arguing this

[watermelinoe]

bi people in other-sex relationships are simultaneously privileged when it comes to homophobia but oppressed because of biphobia, but i've noticed that whenever i try to explain this people only focus on homophobia and still think i'm saying that bi people face the "same" homophobia as gay people. because the majority of bi people are in other-sex relationships, and yet statistics still reflect the markers of oppression like poverty/abuse/mental illness, it's obvious that we aren't dealing with homophobia but a separate form of oppression based on our sexuality. we are privileged to not experience homophobia, and at the same time disadvantaged by biphobia - which sometimes overlaps w the experience of homophobia, situationally, but isn't the same

[ettadunham]

listening to flyleaf and autoheart back-to-back is like experiencing the entire spectrum of angsty gay christians

[killyourlocalmisogynist]

Do you think biphobia is real? Saw one of my fav lesbian mutuals say it was today 😭😭 Pls tell me you aren’t like that too.

absolutely not. if i start saying biphobia is real drop me off at a psych ward please.

[disillusionedmonster]

I just saw someone tag a post queerphobia and feel like I have been slapped.

[gloriousmonsters]

ok so on one hand the bones and all book was disappointing, which was a bummer. on the other hand, it was so FASCINATINGLY bad in two (2) such specific ways I'm still revolving it in my head

[bumblesimagines]

Curiosities

Part 2

Request: Yes or No

Summary: King Aegon keeps his word and uses his power as the king to get what he desires. His decision flips (Y/N)'s world on its axis.

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

TW/CW: Typical GoT/HOTD warnings, mild slutshaming, implied homophobia (the Faith), mentions of child exploitation/abuse, mentions/implications of sexual and physical abuse toward sex workers, mentions of child/teen-adult relationships, takes place in S2 and while it doesn't follow the latest episodes as of currently beware of spoilers

These warnings keep getting longer and longer 😮‍💨

Divider from @targaryen-dynasty!

~~~

The members of the Small Council rose to their feet when Aegon strode into the room; uneasy glances and frowns being exchanged when they took in the skip in his step and the wide smile dangling from his lips. He had something in mind, something that most certainly wouldn't do them any good if it came from Aegon Targaryen of all people. 

"Good morrow," Aegon greeted them, setting his hands over the armrests of his chair and settling down comfortably at the end of the table. The council members tentatively sat down, dipping their heads in greeting and exchanging more glances. He raised his hand when Lord Jasper went to speak, effectively silencing the man. "Before we begin, I'd like to bring up the subject of taking an official paramour. These last few days have been... hard, to say the least, but I believe my pain has been soothed."

"Your Grace," Alicent began, her eyes fluttering shut in exasperation and chest falling with a heavy sigh. "I believe it's far too soon to be taking a mistress, much less the proper time with war brewing on the horizon. You are without an heir for the moment, so I understand the desire to-" 

"This is hardly about heirs or children, Mother." Aegon cut in swiftly, his back pressing against the chair and jaw ticking with a smidge of annoyance. "I want this. I will have this, one way or another. I am merely... informing you all." 

Clearing his throat, Maester Orwyle regarded his king with a small smile. "Perhaps knowing the name of your lover will soothe worries, Your Grace. Does she reside in the Red Keep? What house is she from? We certainly wouldn't want to bring any offense to her family during this time. Many fathers are oft' protective of their daughters and would find it insulting for one to become a mere mistress." 

"You're in luck then," Aegon grinned widely, his thumb rubbing against one of the many rings adorning his fingers. He took in the perplexed and curious looks on each of their faces, savoring their undivided attention. He swiped his tongue over his lips and reached forward toward his goblet, tilting it toward the cupbearer and listening to the heavenly sound of wine being poured. "For my lover and future paramour does not come from any noble family." He couldn't help but giggle, taking a sip from his wine. "He comes from the Street of Silk." 

Silence followed his revelation, each of the council members staring at him in complete and utter shock. His mother moved first, her folded hands unlacing so she could rub the bridge of her nose. Her eyes squeezed shut, lips rolling into her mouth to prevent any unsavory words from spilling out. Lord Jasper reached for his goblet next, drinking every last drink in it and motioning for some more while Maester Orwyle and Lord Tyland blinked at him in astonishment. 

"Y-Your Grace," Maester Orwyle stuttered, "The Faith of the Seven views the act of-"

"The Faith views incest, bastardy, and prostitution sins as well, Grand Maester. Yet many of the men sitting at this very table are guilty of at least one of these things. Besides, I am of Targaryen blood and I am the King of Westeros, am I not? My grandsire King Jaehaerys put a law in place exempting those with Valryian blood from being judged, did he not?"

Aegon's smile shifted from genuine into a more daring one, his eyes burning into those of Maester Orwyle and any other council members who felt bold enough to look in his direction. "My word is law."

Alicent's eyes fluttered open and she leaned back in her chair, casting a glance at the rest of the council members. "Think of what you are asking-"

"I've made my decision, Mother." Aegon interrupted once more, smirking at the way she clenched her jaw, and turned his head to study his newest Hand, Ser Criston. The knight straightened up, ever so loyal, and Aegon smiled brightly. Finally, someone who wouldn't object. "I have some orders for you, Ser Criston."

Digging his teeth into the warm loaf of bread he'd been given, (Y/N) walked along the gravelly, muddy road in the direction of the Street of Silk. His breakfast had been a gift from a patron who frequented the brothel, one of the few good things of working where he did. Lavish gifts were expected from nobles who could afford whatever they desired, though they more often than not merely dressed their favorite workers up like little dolls.

The smallfolk could hardly compare but they provided the more necessary gifts; food, drinks, materials. It hardly had anything to do with genuine love or care, and more so the simple desire of holding the gift over his head, but (Y/N) would never be in a position to ignore free food.

Madam Sylvi had long stopped providing him with anything other than a place to bathe and sleep, claiming he was no longer a babe and had to provide for himself just as the rest of the smallfolk. She was a good madam, better than most brothel owners, and she tried to take care of all the women and men she took under her wing, but she couldn't be everywhere at once; and she couldn't kick out every patron that grew bolder or more sadistic. 

His eyes dragged away from the light gray clouds rolling overhead as he stepped into the Street of Silk, the sound of pleasure and music filling his ears from brothels accepting patrons. Eager men bustled up and down the street, jeering at those lingering by their respective brothels in hopes of enticing one to come inside. But still, things seemed more oddly quiet than usual, (Y/N) noted, and he soon realized why when he noticed the elegant carriage waiting outside of Madam Sylvi's brothel. 

Ripping the bread in his hand apart, he tossed one piece toward the child sitting in an alleyway, his ribs visibly showing throw his thin layer of dirty, ripped clothes. The child sprang to his feet and dug eagerly into the bread, his eyes lighting up with newfound life.

As (Y/N) shoved the rest of his bread into his mouth and quickened his step, he hoped one act of kindness would spare him later. He swallowed down the food, throat itching for water, and stopped by the large double doors where a fellow brothel worker stood by.

His lips parted to question her on the carriage but he winced when he noticed the darkening bruise on her cheek, staring near the corner of her lip and ending near her eye. Hardly seemed like an accident. Alise brushed her fingers over the purple skin, her dark eyes slightly watering and her nose scrunching up in pain.

"Was it Felir again?" He asked instead with a gentle sigh, taking a step toward her and sweeping back some of her blonde hair. 

"Always is." She responded with a sigh of her own, dropping her hand down toward her chest where her dress plunged enough to show most of her cleavage, finger hooking to drag it down even further. "He pays too well to be thrown out, though. I hear he's grown tired of his new wife now that she's grown heavy with child. I'm certain we'll be seeing him around more often when the babe comes."

"I'm sorry."

"You mustn't be." Alise dismissed with a wave of her hand. "Be thankful he has no interest in boys, otherwise he'd do a whole lot more than what the Targaryen's done to your neck." She reached out to push back the hood of his cloak and dragged her fingertips over the markings on his throat, an amused grin forming on her face until she winced and touched her cheek again. 

"You should rest." (Y/N) told her, giving her arm a delicate squeeze before he pushed open one of the large wooden doors leading into the brothel. The air still reeked of smoke, sweat, and drinks despite the open window but most of the brothel had been cleaned up and ready for another round of patrons. He and the others would be given a chance to rest and eat, although when he spotted the two men in their shining silver armor and long white cloaks, he suspected his day wouldn't be the same as the rest.

The Sworn Brotherhood - better known as Kingsguards - were sworn to never own land, take a wife, or father children so they could fully focus on their duty of protecting the king and the royal family. Of course, they were still men, and despite the sworn promise to remain as pure as fresh snow, most of them were regulars at brothels; but they never sought workers out in their uniforms, much less in broad daylight. It'd be asking for swift punishment.

"Here he is, the man you seek." Madam Sylvi announced with a smile full of feigned joy that only made his stomach drop. She rose from her chair swiftly, the long skirt of her dress swishing with her movements, and she hurried over to him, her arms sliding around his shoulders and head dropping to whisper in his ear. "The King has asked for you, sweet boy. I do not know why but you must mind your step and tread lightly." Her nails dug through the fabric covering his arms. 

Aegon.

"The King has ordered your swift removal from this.. establishment so that you may settle into your new apartments in Maegor's Holdfast as his new paramour. He asks that you only take belongings of sentimental value so we may escort you to your new home as quickly as possible. He's asked of us to assure you no harm or insult will come to you for as long as he reigns." One Kingsguard spoke, his voice largely devoid of emotion and stance rigid with alert, but he shifted his weight from foot to foot. He seemed nervous, perhaps flustered. At least he attempted to appear like a Kingsguard whereas his companion blatantly ogled one of the girls until subtly elbowed.

(Y/N) looked between the two men, his fingers curling around the skirt of Madam Sylvi's dress. It'd been years since he'd last clutched to her like a child, but he felt tremendously small under the unnerving stares from the two knights. "Sylvi," He exhaled, tearing his eyes away from the knights to look at her soft features. 

"Perhaps it will be temporary, until the anxieties and worries of war pass." She soothed softly but the subtle tremble of her voice gave away her real thoughts. Paramours could be replaced, they often were, but hardly any noble - much less a king - had ever so publicly announced their new lover. "Go collect your things, (Y/N). We mustn't make King Aegon wait." 

Madam Sylvi ushered him up the stairs toward the rooms on the second floor where workers without homes to return to slept. His legs moved automatically toward his room at the end of the hall, or rather... his old room.

The idea hadn't settled in fully, not yet. He'd called the brothel home for far too many years. He'd been born in one of the many rooms he walked past; he'd raced up and down the halls whilst playing games; he'd been bathed and clothed and doted on by many in the very place he now had to leave. 

"(Y/N)!" A squeaky voice called out, soft footsteps thumping after him. (Y/N) stopped by the door into his old room, hand hovering over the doorknob and head tilting to peer down at the girl rushing toward him. Lyla collided with his leg, her arms wrapping around it and her chin resting over his hip as she looked up at him with glittering blue eyes. "Are you leaving?" 

"Afraid so, Ly." (Y/N) answered, opening the door and stepping inside the familiar room. The girl of only thirteen followed him inside, her lips forming a pout. He still remembered when her first flowering had occurred, a sign she'd become a lady. Her maidenhood had been up for auction the following month and a stout fisherman had managed to be the highest bidder. (Y/N) had been the one to clean the blood from her legs and ensure she drank moon tea. 

With a heavy exhale, (Y/N) looked over his rather plain room. He'd never given it any thought to decorate it with things from around King's Landing, for many of his fellow workers had sticky fingers and an eye for beautiful things. His bed was big enough to fit his body and his blanket thick enough to keep him warm throughout winter. There were a few potted plants around the room, something he added for some color and life. Otherwise, everything would merely be wood-toned.

"Will you visit?" Lyla asked, seating herself in the middle of his bed and tugging at the ends of her dress as she crossed her legs. Her eyes followed him as he sorted through his clothes and belongings in search of anything he'd miss, only to conclude the single item he considered valuable was the bracelet wrapped around his wrist; a simple gift from Madam Sylvi but one he held dearly. 

"I... am not sure, Ly. I will try to, if... if they allow me." (Y/N) responded, kneeling down by his bed and blindly searching until his hand bumped into the small wooden box he kept. He slipped his fingers around it and rose back up to take a seat beside the young girl, lifting the lid to reveal the glittering jewelry hidden within. Lyla gasped softly and shuffled closer. 

"They're pretty!" 

"Gifts from countless men and women, noble and smallfolk alike. I have collected and hidden them throughout the years for they are of little use to me. But, now that I am leaving... I believe you should have them. Take a few for yourself, Ly, but hide them where no other will find them. You must tell Madam Sylvi that you wish to exchange the rest for coin. It should be enough for your aunt to pay her debts and you'll never have to come here for work again." (Y/N) instructed her, digging through the jewelry until he found a thin silver necklace and clipped it around her neck.

"Truly?" Lyla asked quietly, her eyes shimmering with tears. Her fingers glided along the necklace until they curled around it, squeezing it tight in her smaller hand. 

"Truly." (Y/N) nodded, setting the box on her lap and planting a kiss on her temple. His fingers brushed back some of her black curls, a bittersweet feeling bubbling in his chest at the tears that spilled down her round cheeks. An orphaned child so desperate to remain with the last of her family that she'd shown up on their doorstep asking for a job, first as a mere servant and then into something more horrid. 

With Lyla's future looking brighter than his, he stood from his bed and took one last look at his room before venturing out into the hall and down to the first floor. The knights awaited him by the doors, the younger one of the two once again distracted by those coming and going. The one who'd addressed him straightened up at the sight of him, his gaze dropping down to (Y/N)'s empty hands and the lack of luggage. 

"I have... little of value."

"Very well." The knight cleared his throat. "We must depart for the Red Keep, then."

(Y/N) had never been in a carriage before, and he had to admit it was an odd feeling. Many of the roads leading back toward the Red Keep were bumpy and far from easy to travel. He found himself holding onto the cushioned seat beneath him as his body lurched and swayed with the bumps and light shaking of the carriage, his fingers digging into the soft fabric in a vain attempt at stabilizing himself. How lords and ladies could withstand such dizzying rides was beyond him. 

When the carriage finally rolled to a smooth stop and the door on the side opened, the extent of the situation finally dawned on him. He'd never been to the Red Keep; Seven Hells, the only time he'd even stepped on the road leading up to the castle had been on his way to Fishmonger's Square.

But there he sat, in the main outer yard with the loud groaning of the main gate sliding closed behind him. He forced himself to step out of the carriage and out into the yard, the sight of servants, knights, and courtiers greeting him. 

"This way, my..." The knight trailed off and exchanged a wide-eyed look with his companion. (Y/N) was no courtier, no page or ward, no lordling with lands and titles. He was merely... a prostitute; a whore as patrons loved to call him and his friends. Everyone around them seemingly came to the same conclusion, their stares becoming scrutinizing or pitiful. 

"(Y/N)," He said quietly, tugging his cloak further over his shoulders, suddenly feeling extremely aware of how plain his clothes seemed in comparison to the courtiers lingering around. He prayed the hood covered his neck from prying eyes. "Call me (Y/N), Ser." 

The knight nodded, his helmet slipping further down his head with his movements. It seemed the new Lord Commander of the Kingsguard had chosen... a questionable lot for the job. (Y/N) dug his teeth into the tip of his tongue and lowered his head, an action that'd become second nature to him whenever he left the brothel, for drawing attention to yourself in the city was asking to be robbed or killed. It hardly helped him inside the castle, however. Those they walked by stared and whispered amongst themselves, blatantly motioning in his direction while doing so.

(Y/N) saw the look in their eyes, the way they turned their noses up and scoffed as if his mere presence brought a stain to the castle. Nobles believed themselves to be better than those who worked to provide everything they required, and it was that sense of ego that often made them the best customers; for a simple stroke of their ego had them spilling more coin than they could count. Most of them were fools, even with the high education they received, (Y/N) knew this well. Appearing timid and meek did people little favors in Flea Bottom, even less so among the nobility. 

Madam Sylvi had been right. He had to tread lightly. 

After a long walk through many hallways and staircases, the knights finally stopped before two large oak doors and simultaneously pushed them open to reveal the bedchambers within. "Your apartments... (Y/N)." One spoke rather awkwardly, vaguely motioning with his hand for him to enter. (Y/N) stepped into the room and stopped, blinking at the size alone. 

His... 'apartments' were even larger than the brothel if the two floors combined into one. On the far right end elevated by a small platform sat a luxurious-looking bed large enough to fit at the very least five people with a wooden canopy holding sheer curtains at the sides. Near the bed sat a desk with blank papers and a quill ready to be used alongside beautifully carved wooden chests for storage whilst on the opposite side stood a large closet.

In the center of the room, a beautiful rug with flower designs covered most of the floor, long couches and comfortably looking seats atop with a dining table set nearby. Lined along the walls were numerous paintings and shelves, some filled with books and others empty.

His eyes were immediately drawn to the large open window at the left side of the room that overlooked part of the city and ocean, a gentle breeze flowing in from it. Near the window sat a bronze tub on one side and a few more chairs by a fireplace on the other. Extremely extravagant, he had to admit, but far too much for a single person. His old room seemed pebble-sized in comparison. 

"I am Ser Corlin and I will be stationed outside at all times if you ever require my presence or assistance. I will follow you wherever you must go and am sworn to give my life for you if needed as King Aegon has assigned me as your Sworn Shield." (Y/N)'s brows furrowed and he whirled around to face the more talkative of the two knights, his eyes flickering to the other one when he dipped his head and left. Ser Corlin seemed a well enough protector, if not a little young. 

"Why would I need a... 'Sword Shield'?" He hardly knew what that meant, but based on Ser Corlin's words it appeared to be quite the important job. "I am merely... I am hardly important enough to need protection, Ser." 

"You are King Aegon's paramour; the only one of many to be given such attention. We cannot know for sure if any envious past lovers may wish ill upon you or if Rhaenyra the Cruel will attempt to harm you to cause our king further strife." Ser Corlin explained, shuffling aside to allow a few maids into the room. He dipped his head, providing no further information, and shut the door behind him. 

"How wonderful." (Y/N) exhaled, hands undoing the laces of his cloak and carefully tugging it off his shoulders. One maid sprang into action, collecting the cloak from his arms and looking over the muddied ends with a thoughtful look. He blinked at her, watching her dip her head similarly to Ser Corlin and slip out of the room. Were they... bowing? To him? 

"I'm Laerra," The eldest looking between the maids spoke before motioning to the other three with her. "These are Eliza, Shana, and Marya. We will be primarily tending to your needs: bathing, changing, cleaning, and fulfilling any requests you ask of us. His Grace wished for you to be changed into some of the clothing stored in the closet, if we may?" 

"I... am not a child. I can change myself." 

"It would be better if we did it for you, My Lord." The round-faced redhead, Eliza, spoke next, a hint of meekness in her voice. The usage of a title made him grimace but if it made things easier on the servants, he'd deal with it, he supposed.

Pursing his lips, (Y/N) sighed and nodded, finding no use in arguing with the customs of nobility. The maids moved swiftly; one of them filled a basin with water and warmed it by the fireplace, another fetched the clothes, and the remaining two began removing his clothes.

They worked diligently and quickly, a focused look passing over each of their faces. Shana scrubbed and dried his skin with a rag she dipped into the basin, getting his skin rid of any sweat and dirt it accumulated during his trip in the city, giving herself a nod of approval when she finished. Eliza scooped his old clothes into her arms and disappeared from his room as Marya and Laerra began dressing him in soft fabrics. 

"Imported fabrics and cloths from Dorne and some of the Free Cities, My Lord," Marya revealed when he eyed the white undershirt, the soft fabric rubbing nicely against his skin as they put him in a dark green overshirt. When they slipped gem-adorned rings on his fingers, she added, "Gemstones from Pentos. The King wished for nothing else than beautiful." 

"Thank you." He told them, feeling pampered yet suffocated. "I-... You.. may go. I'd like time alone, if I may." 

"Shall we bring you some wine? Perhaps some lemon cakes, as well?" Laerra questioned but when he waved them off, they all dipped into a curtsy and ushered themselves out of the room, plunging it into heavy silence that loomed over him like a storm cloud. It was too much, all of it. The room, the clothes, the accessories. He'd had a perfectly fine life in the Street of Silk, despite everything he witnessed and experienced. 

(Y/N) tugged the rings from his fingers, scattering them across the dining table, and undid the buttons of his overshirt to pull it off and drape it over a chair. He had little need for such things, for so many layers. He collapsed on one of the chairs and braced his arms over the table, his eyes drifting over to the window. His ears strained to catch the bustle of the city but the wind was all he heard, amongst muffled chatter and footsteps from the hallway outside. 

"Gods," He sighed and ran a hand over his face, slumping back in the chair. "What have I gotten myself into?" 

(Y/N) hardly had any time to process before the doors swung open and Ser Corlin's voice echoed into the room, "Dowager Queen Alicent Hightower." His lips pressed together tightly, teeth digging into his inner bottom lip and a heavy exhale escaping through his nose. The Gods lacked mercy for him, it seemed. 

"Your Grace," (Y/N) greeted, standing up from the chair and bending at the waist when he turned around to face her. Queen Alicent (was she to be referred to as Dowager Queen? There were far too many titles) strode into his room with an air of grace, her dark eyes sliding over to him while her features remained blank.

Queen Alicent was beautiful with long dark auburn hair that'd been tied back and cascaded along her back, big brown eyes that studied him closely, and a slender figure. She appeared youthful, and he had to remind himself she had most of her children before reaching the age of twenty. 

"You must be (Y/N)." She spoke softly, her voice soothing and gentle. "I apologize for the sudden intrusion... amongst other things. I am aware my son feels quite fondly of you despite your former job. I must admit I was quite caught off guard when he announced his decision to move you here, into the Red Keep rather than housing you elsewhere as most other nobles do with their... lovers. May I ask what your family believes of this? I cannot say they will be welcomed if they seek riches." 

"I was born in Madame Sylvi's brothel. I do not know my father as my mother likely took many lovers a week to know for certain." 

Queen Alicent's brows furrowed, her long fingers ghosting over the hand of her hand to begin toying with one of her rings. "Likely? You.. you do not know your mother? How is that so?"

"I was never told." (Y/N) shrugged. "As a babe, I was passed around to whomever had the milk to feed me. My mother never claimed me as her own, but I'm sure she tended to me at one point or another. The women there never cared to tell me who amongst them had birthed me. They were all my mothers, I suppose. I can assure you they'd only approach me for favors if the idea ever struck them." 

"Born in a brothel.." Queen Alicent murmured quietly, her skirt gliding along the floor as she drew closer to him, her hand coming to rest along the top of the chair at the end of the table. "Forgive me if it is a difficult question to answer, but may I know the age you were when you began... working?" 

"I was eight years of age when frequenters began asking, nine when I began working. It is tradition in most brothels to auction the first time to the highest bidder as most patrons enjoy laying with virgins. I hardly recall the night but I believe it was with a couple from Braavos." His hand moved to grasp the wrist where the bracelet remained, thumb pressing into it at the memory of Madam Sylvi gifting it to him the following day after the couple left. The Dowager Queen paled. "They paid well." He added, though it hardly sounded like much of a comfort.

"You were a child." She exhaled, breathless and her voice dripping with pity. The stone-faced look she'd carried when she first arrived had vanished, her glassy eyes reminding him of Aegon's. They looked so alike in certain lights, he noted, from the furrow of their brows to the curve of their lips. She appeared smaller, younger, without the emotionless facade she'd put up when first acknowledging him. 

"As were you when you wed King Viserys." (Y/N) spoke carefully, his words soft and knowing. She stared at him, the shine in her eyes growing and full lips parting with a shaky exhale. Queen Alicent's gaze fell onto the stone floor and the tip of her nails scraped against the wood of the chair she held onto, her chest rising and falling with a deep inhale. 

"It is the duty that falls on the shoulders of many young noble girls. It was expected of me, and I fulfilled my duty, as you well see." He heard the subtle tremble in her voice, saw the way the corner of her brows dipped with each word; was she convincing him or herself? (Y/N) could hardly tell, but what he did know was that with a simple few words the Queen's true nature had reared its head. She remained a young girl in her heart, despite the years of motherhood and marriage thrusted upon her. 

"Duty or not, it did not make you any less of a child, Your Grace." He moved slowly, somewhat cautiously, when he approached her, keeping his footsteps light and his posture relaxed.

(Y/N) studied her face, her reactions, and the way her body responded to his movements with keen, observant eyes. She watched him, her eyes darting down to his arms so he moved them behind his back to ease any worries of him lashing out toward her. He stopped a few feet away, keeping enough space between them for her to relax.

"Forgive me if I speak too plainly or boldly, Your Grace, for us smallfolk hardly ever converse with those above our stations. I assume you have your assumptions about me, about how I make my coin, but I do not just pleasure others."

She shifted her weight from one foot to the next, the way her eyes jumped around the room from item to item telling him she felt nervous, likely uncomfortable with the topic of sex. The necklace resting around her neck held a pendant similar to the seven-pointed star that represented the Seven. For a woman of faith and nobility speaking of sex with someone of the opposite sex whom she had no relation to would be considered scandalous. 

"I provide comfort, as well. A willing ear to those who desire to be heard without judgment. I hold many stories, secrets, desires, and hopes that have been told to me throughout many years that will never leave my lips. I value trust, and I would never break another's, even for coin. I had little friends in the city, I doubt I have any at all here," A flicker of recognition flashed in her eyes. "If you find yourself needing a friend, I'd be happy to listen over tea or sweets. I have a feeling I'll be finding myself... quite lonesome here." 

"I... I shall keep your offer in mind." Queen Alicent said gently, her fingers curling around her hand and lips forming a tight-lipped smile. She dropped her hands down to the sides of her skirt, slightly lifting the ends and departing toward the doors. She stopped before them and peered over her shoulder at him. "King Aegon has matters he is attending to but I'm certain he will welcome you once he is done. Welcome to the Red Keep, (Y/N)."

[tomorrowusa]

Uganda is Africa's most homophobic country. And the hatred unleashed there by the government and extremist religious groups has led to violence.

A prominent Ugandan LGBTQ+ activist is in a critical condition after he was stabbed on his way to work on Wednesday by unknown assailants on a motorbike.

Steven Kabuye, 25, suffered knife wounds and was left for dead in the assault on the outskirts of the capital Kampala before being found by local residents, police said. Human rights defenders have been warning about the risk of attacks on members of the LGBTQ+ community after Uganda last year adopted what is considered one of the harshest anti-gay laws in the world. Kabuye told detectives investigating the incident that he had been receiving death threats, according to a statement issued by police spokesperson Patrick Onyango. “According to Mr Kabuye, two unidentified individuals on a motorcycle, wearing helmets, approached him. The passenger jumped off and attacked him, specifically targeting his neck with a knife,” Onyango said. “Kabuye managed to shield his neck with his right arm, resulting in a stab wound to his hand. Despite attempting to flee, the assailants chased and stabbed him in the stomach and left him for dead,” he said, adding that local residents had found him and taken him to a medical clinic.

You can in certain instances get the death penalty for being gay in Uganda. The assailants probably felt it was their duty to try to murder Steven Kabuye.

In May last year, Uganda adopted anti-gay legislation containing provisions making “aggravated homosexuality” a potentially capital offence and setting out penalties for consensual same-sex relations of up to life in prison. Homosexuality has long been illegal in Uganda under a colonial-era law criminalising sexual activity “against the order of nature”, with life imprisonment possible for a conviction. The new law added further offences and punishments. Kabuye had posted on X that he was deeply concerned about the consequences of Uganda’s Anti-Homosexuality Act 2023. “This law violates basic human rights and sets a dangerous precedent for discrimination and persecution against the LGBTQ+ community. Let us stand together in solidarity and fight against bigotry and hate,” he wrote.

Uganda is a good place to avoid even if locals just think you are LGBTQ+.

Uganda's homophobic President Yoweri Museveni seized power in January of 1986. That's so long ago that the Space Shuttle Challenger was still intact when he began his reign as de facto president for life. According to the journal Foreign Policy, Museveni may be looking to turn Uganda into a North Korea-style monarchy without crowns.

Politics in Uganda has become a parable of dynastic decay. For 37 years, President Yoweri Museveni has ruled with a supporting cast of relatives, army officers, and hangers-on. They see themselves as the only ones capable of running the country—and have profited handsomely from doing so. Museveni has twice had the constitution rewritten to remove limits on his rule. But he is now 78, and he cannot rewrite biology. Enter his 49-year-old son, Muhoozi Kainerugaba: a hard-drinking, trash-tweeting soldier who considers himself “the most handsome General on earth.” After a rapid promotion through the army ranks, Kainerugaba says he wants to run for president at the next election in 2026.

Uganda is part of the corrupt Axis of Homophobia which includes Russia and Iran. It deserves the same opprobrium which is directed at those decrepit régimes.

[empress-hancock]

Also many bi people are responsible for our own “not being seen as bi” issue. So many bi people, mostly teens, will call themselves gay, as if that doesn’t contribute to bi erasure.

Bi people in straight relationships have more privilege than bi people in same sex relationships. “Not being seen as bi” is not oppression, get over yourself.

[sharkgirldick]

cishet men, you mean? right?

No. Experiencing a different axis of oppression doesn't negate the privilege men have, this isn't Pokemon.

I'm not trying to make some kind of personal attack against trans or gay men, this is just a truth about living in patriarchal society.

Experiencing transphobia and/or homophobia is going to have different and varied affects on the men who experience them. I didn't say that being a man makes your life immediately better, just that the privilege exists.

[apas-95]

If bigotry isn't based on what's in a bigot's head, how can something like misogyny have any consistent meaning? How does something change from misogyny to not misogyny depending on what pronouns someone uses? I could describe to you an act of violence in detail down to the very arrangement of it's atoms, plus a book filled with a series of interviews with the aggressor, but you wouldn't know what to call it if I left out how the victim personally identifies?

Whatsoever constitutes violence against women is misogyny. If it is carried out against someone who is not a woman, it does not make sense to call it misogyny regardless of the shape it takes, if it is carried out against women it makes sense to call it misogyny regardless of the bigot's own thoughts.

I could describe to you an act of violence in detail down to the very arrangement of it's atoms, plus a book filled with a series of interviews with the aggressor, but you wouldn't know what to call it if I left out the victim's race or sexuality?

How is their gender different?

Gender is not a fake axis of oppression, people do not simply identify as a certain gender, they genuinely are that gender.

A man who doesn't believe that lesbianism exists, or doesn't consider black women to be female, would still be engaging in homophobic or misogynistic violence against lesbians and black women - not 'misdirected heterophobia and misandry'.

Oppression experienced by a transgender man is, fundamentally, transphobic oppression, not misogynistic oppression. To say otherwise is to state that transgender men are not genuinely men.

A heterosexual asian man who is seen as effeminate by western cultural standards and berated for it is experiencing racism, not homophobia or misogyny -- even though, certainly, it is through the form of homophobic and misogynistic insults that the racism is being carried out, and in doing so the aggressor is reinfocing homophobia and misogyny.

The key point is this: Racism, misogyny, homophobia, transphobia, etc, are all relationships between people, they are all dependent on the context of the people. The actions that mediate these relationships are not the things themselves. This is the materialist view of the matter.

[a-nicer-picture]

Is Juri's problem really idealizing Shiori in some way? The prevailing interpretation I've seen is that Juri should accept she fell for a snake so she can remove Shiori from the pedestal of her love. Incidentally Ruka also shares this opinion. I disagree and I'm here to be a contrarian about it!

A nonzero number of takes base their "Juri idealizes Shiori" conclusion on the "innocently cruel" line, the interpretation being she's percieving Shiori's personality as sweet and innocent. But that's not what the line is getting at. Juri's emphasis here is not innocence as a synonym for purity, it's innocence as a synonym for ignorance and naivety. Both Utena and Shiori are "innocent" because they are unable to anticipate the queer dynamic, the deviant lesbian desire, that Juri is operating from, and "cruel" because, in their misunderstanding, they step on Juri's toes in unintentional ways.

Even though we, the audience, know in retrospect that Shiori meant to fuck Juri up, the exact way she did it was a freak accident, and at this point in the story she has no idea that she managed to hurt her. Shiori is operating from a different understanding, one that assumes Juri's absolute conformity to and supremacy in heteronormative gender roles. Shiori's whole mission is proving her value over Juri on that axis, obviously because as a suppressed homosexual she feels insecure about her continuing obsession with Juri. She assumes "beating Juri" at attracting men will balance the scales-- render Juri's image less appealing, and hers more. And of course that would hurt Juri, who must value her success with boys so much. That lack of awareness is what Juri is referring to, and she's right here actually, about both Shiori and Utena-- they are unable to conceptualize desire for other women as a potential outcome, and in part it's because of this that they end up harming themselves and others.

Moreover the "innocently cruel" line does not imply that Juri thinks Shiori is an innocent person because, if anything, Juri does nothing but doubt Shiori throughout the series.

At no point does Juri say anything positive about Shiori's personality or their friendship. She is unable to frame her ex-bestie's existence outside of the pain she's caused her. The narrative purposefully never tells us why she fell in love with her in the first place, or what their friendship was like. We don't know why she chose Shiori specifically, and that's part of the mystique of Juri's feelings and of their relationship, that the audience will never see who Shiori is outside of Juri's heartbreak. She could have a vibrant personality, but it's thoroughly obscured by the opacity of Juri's despair, and Ohtori 's miasma. Not to mention Shiori's own internalized homophobia, compulsory heterosexuality, and chosen constructed persona-- just like a lot of other bitches trapped in Ohtori. This is what the place does, it chews up queer teenagers and doesn't spit them out so much as it arranges them neatly into a series of possible stage roles.

Juri's current image of Shiori is of a witch. It's possible she used to think of her as a princess, sure, but then she inverted the role once Shiori acted out. If anybody's idolizing anybody, it's Shiori. She is the master of rendering other people into shining beacons!

I have more thoughts forming on how Juri's "casting" of Shiori plays out through her final duel (does Shiori's mistreatment by Ruka briefly return her to her role as a princess to Juri's gallant prince-- but this proves unsustainable or undesirable, because princehood makes her too vulnerable or liable to corruption?) but they're half-baked at this time.

I do think though that Juri's "miracle" might be "making [Shiori] understand [her] feelings" literally-- not necessarily having Shiori return them (though that idea looms over her including in her understanding of what a man could do in her place, thanks to Ruka for the reminder). The miracle may be finding some way for Shiori and others to understand who Juri actually is without making herself vulnerable or diminishing the ease with which she moves through the world. She doesn't want to get stabbed with those swords of hatred. So many people don't seem to understand her, yet Juri is terrified of embodying anything other than an impenetrable image of excellence...! Girl watch out!! You're just embodying the reason why Shiori resents you in the first place!!! Those swords are coming at you no matter what!!!