#cw systemic homophobia

[elskanellis]

When I was a child, multiple adults in my social circle were forcibly outed via the “getting arrested for cruising in the park at night” method and it always ended in tragedy. Just their whole lives blew up. At least one literally did not survive the scandal. And this was even before the AIDS panic reached my very small town in the shallow south.

Which is to say: this chapter of our history is literally within living memory for an awful lot of people. We are not exaggerating.

I have full confidence that things will get better, legally and socially, but I really think it will take long enough to get better, that in the meantime a lot of people will be significantly hurt. And it’s already happening: if you are queer: even if you are cis: even if you are confident or certain you don’t need abortion or contraception: anti-trans laws and anti-abortion laws are already coming for you, because they are all about this kind of control. And anti-sodomy laws are just another brick in the wall they want to build, to contain us and to keep us separate from our joy.

Anyway with anti-sodomy laws back on the discussion table I'm going to repeat that you can personally be squicked out by the consensual sex someone else has, but saying that their consensual sex between willing, active, adult participants should be illegal and is indicative of some sort of moral failing is L I T E R A L L Y a major facet in extreme homophobia and absolutely has gotten people killed.

You don't have to like their business but as long as everyone involved in the encounter is saying yes, it's also really not your business.

This is the precident you are helping further by digging your heels in and saying 'but I think it's gross and makes them bad people'. This is what happened last time that was the reasoning for law, and what is being threatened to happen again.

[syscultureis]

Plural culture is I fuckin hate having to lock away alters… they’re dangers to our safety as a system, but I just wanna be nice to them anyways… they deserve love and respect even though they called me homophobic slurs :(

.

[asherthephoenix]

Oooh! Here's a question! What is one (1) headcanon you have for each reboot kiddo? (One for Priya, one for Bowie, and so on.)

Most of these I've had for awhile but thanks for helping me realize there were a few characters from this cast I never bothered to make hcs for lol. Some of these are gonna be sadder than others (I like making angst). TW FOR MENTIONS OF: Child neglect, transphobia, homophobia, the foster care system, child abuse, relationship abuse Caleb: Dumped Priya shortly after the season 2 finale when he realized they just weren't compatible and he'd rather just be friends (please let this be the case in s3🙏) Axel: She's related to Shawn and has a part time job as an instructor at the flower shop and fighting school. Years after the show she gets promoted to manager/class organizer

Nichelle: She's the daughter of the in-universe equivalent of someone like Beyonce or Will Smith, and so she got into acting as a baby.

Lauren: Her parents paid very, very little attention to her when she was a small child because they were preoccupied with their (full of illegal practices) circus buisness and Lauren was primarily raised by her older brother (who is 11 years older than her.) The computer was her babysitter a lot of the time and she got into creepypasta stuff at like age 4 Damien: He's trans ftm and was disowned by his parents after coming out, luckily he had a supportive aunt who took him in and allowed him to start HRT. He signed up for TD without hesitation or even bothering to look up what the show entailed when he heard he could win a million dollars because he knew he could use that money to A. repay his aunt for her kindness and B. afford top surgery

MK: Raised in the foster care system alongside her twin brother. She barely ever got anything for herself growing up and developed her klepto behavior after stealing her first video game and console (a 3DS and pokemon sun for anyone curious)

Raj: Figured out he was gay in middle school. Didn't want to come out because while he knew his immediate family would be supportive, his extended family overseas certainly wouldn't be. Needless to say his family cut contact with a lot of distant relatives after the show aired Wayne: He'd never actually had a girlfriend prior to being on TD. When the purple haired intern (who I hc started liking him after he helped her in the fear challenge) told him she had a crush on him she had to explain it very slowly several times over in order for him to understand what she meant Ripper: also had it rough growing up unfortunatley; he mentions at one point his parents dropped him a lot and told him that babies ruin everything so I don't think it's a stretch to say his parents were abusive. Axel was the first person who truly made him feel loved and accepted.

Zee: Uses perscription marijuana for anxiety. The soda is a clear metaphor for weed; while yes he drinks a lot of it normally since he probably wasn't allowed to use drugs (even perscription) on camera he seriously upped the amount of soda he drank as a sort of replacement

Chase: Was actually a decent person once upon a time and legitimatley did woo Emma over with actual charm. With time unfortunatley he started the youtube channel and once it took off the fame got to his head so he would do anything to make the next "viral video," including putting his GF's life in danger.

Emma: She used to be a model student- straight As, participated in a lot of extracirriculars, had a ton of friends, etc. All of that went down the drain when she used 90% of her time to work on the youtube channel. After breaking up with Chase (the second time) she went to therapy and is trying to become the great person she once was, but it's going to take quite a bit of time.

Julia: She first came out as queer for the sake of a pride month post/getting sponsorships from "queer friendly" brands but hadn't actually thought much about her sexuality at the time. Getting to know MK (and Bowie + the hockey bros) during TD made her realize she actually is a Lesbian, she wasn't lying like she thought she was. Millie: Developed a HUGE crush on Priya during s1. She first started gaining feelings around episode 6 or so but didn't quite process that it was a crush until she realized just how happy she was to have Priya back when she forgave her in the season 1 finale + how upset she would have been if she lost Priya. She cried herself to sleep after watching the season 2 livestream at the playa😭 Bowie: Was a huge brony when he was a kid and got into arguments about the show with grown men online in middle school Priya: After season 2, she was contacted by Courtney (who very reluctantly checked out the new seasons and was horrifed by Priya's situation) who offered to be her lawyer when suing her parents for the right to access the s1 prize money. They were sucessful and Priya moved in with Millie afterwards 😉

[controversial-opinionz]

Proshipping is not that bad. People just make a big deal out of it because they're sour. None of y'all would survive on AO3 and it shows.

Also being pro censorship while also being a part of the LGBTQ is so fucking stupid, like bro!! If things get censored that includes YOU! Censorship isn't just "censor all the things I don't like" it's "censor everything the government disagrees with" (which spolier alert; it's you)

[sea-critter]

trying to hold it together but… just read about Nex Benedict (may their memory be a blessing) who was a Native non-binary teen murdered in their high school bathroom in Oklahoma.

thinking of Akira Ross, a Black queer woman murdered in Texas, less than an hour from me.

thinking of all the queer & trans young people in the south who die at the hands of bigots.

just feeling really fucking sad and sick to my stomach.

[obstinatecondolement]

Honestly, this is probably not a hill that someone who hasn't had sex in as long as I have should be dying on, but this pervasive conservative mindset of "you have to be in love and in a long term relationship or else having sex is icky" is kind of what always made me bristle about the "love is love" slogan.

Like. Okay. And what if someone isn't in love? Is it okay to discrimate against them then? Is it okay to call men who fucked around in the 80s homophobic slurs and say they deserved to die of AIDS if they were having a lot of casual sex with people they weren't in love with and became HIV+?

Fuck that! Fuck that and every single appeal to care about the AIDS crisis because of the "innocent" victims who just had sex with a Liar one time, or people who got filthy contaminated gay/drug addict/foreign blood in a transfusion that was shoved in my face growing up. No one then or now deserved to get the virus and I don't give a shit how they got it! They were all innocent victims!

Which isn't even getting into the "so is it okay to bully single and/or aro queer people?" of it all, or where trans people fit into this "love is love" paradigm when having a sense of dissonance between your assigned gender and your internal sense of self has fuck all to do with heteronormative conceptions of romantic love.

[authadia]

I really feel like there are two kinds of rules:

1. Ones that exist to make groups function better,

2. Ones that oppress.

Humans were naturally selected to work together in groups, and this works well. Sometimes. Other times, someone can make a decision whose consequences affect someone they don’t know and thus, cannot empathize with. Sometimes, it can help to apply rules (and sometimes also punishments) to the group as a whole, in the case that the consequences of one’s actions aren’t felt by the actor.

Also, sometimes there are groups that need to get things done, even though possibly nobody wants to do them. But they have to get done, so rules can help fight the human tendency to take the path of least resistance (or maybe i’m just neurodivergent). Rules and punishments can be helpful in these (very general) scenarios.

Then there are the oppressive rules. Ones that exist solely to exclude, oppress, or abuse people of a certain group. Examples include language like “fad-ish” being used in military law to force POC to hide their own hair and eliminate their culture. While these may not be overt in their oppressiveness (“that exists to stop the ridiculous hairstyles into our dignified culture!”), that is how they are used, most often. Or, you can look at how black tennis players are penalized for sitting or eating during the matches while white players are simply handwaved for doing the same thing.

This is how systemic racism, misogyny, queerphobia, and other forms of oppression survive today, past the Jim Crow laws, woman’s suffrage, and Pride (wip). The overtness and subsequent plausible deniability make it so no oppressed class can fight back within the system. Nobody can ever be a “perfect victim” because the only way to seek justice is to retaliate against the rules that, to the victimizing class, are perfectly fine and reasonable.

A lot of oppressed peoples can function well enough in this system that they can blend in and fly under the radar. It takes a certain amount of internalize oppression, but it can be done. And these people are exactly what the oppressors want, whether they’re aware of it or not. When a woman acts “out of place” or doesn’t perform femininity right, she gets shunned and excluded until she does, at which point the oppressors applaud themselves for the rules working once more.

What if they can’t, though? What if the oppressed person can’t fall in line? As is the case with many disabled people, they get continuously abused while it just gets worse and worse because they keep “breaking” the rules set in place to exclude them in the first place. They can try their absolute hardest just to capitulate, to succeed in a system that isn’t designed for them, while constantly being ground into the dirt as the “punishments” increase, and still fail.

This is how systemic oppression of so many still exists in a system thought to be “equal”. When the oppressed is unaware, they blame themselves. In some extreme cases like my own, they attempt suicide because they see the intended results of the system as some sort of flaw within themselves.

But it’s not their fault. It’s not your fault. All we can do is our best. Don’t let this fucked up system drag you down.

[syscultureis]

Vent //

Plural culture is joining a friend's server and using pluralkit while trying to explain to people that you're not a bot and that you have DID and then getting an ableist response to which your friend then supports so your protector and anger holder(s) front and go off at them and then you also find out that person is also homophobic and your friend did nothing to kick them or anything. Despite knowing that you're a system that is mostly queer and that you're all very sensitive to those sort of things.

I'm so sorry that happened that's awful :(

[angorwhosebabyisthis]

i feel like it's also worth adding that these grown ass women with jobs and families risked losing those things and going to jail for the crime of creating, sharing, and engaging with gay fiction. read that again. read it a third time.

a huge factor in the boom of positive, well-written queer representation we've had in the last decade or so is that creators who grew up in and were influenced by fandom have aged into positions to push for it in the professional creative sphere. audiences who grew up in fandom aged into the group where they could contribute money to those projects, now that the door was finally open; audiences who were already in that bracket, and had been desperate for decades for decent queer rep to put support behind, jumped at the chance. people like to brush it off as ~not that deep~ and act like it's ~terminally online~ and ~cringe~ to pretend fandom--let alone shipping specifically--has any kind of meaningful influence. but it has had a powerful, demonstrable positive impact going back more than half a century, and none of that would have been possible if the infrastructure of modern fandom hadn't already been made.

women who put everything on the line--put in money and blood and sweat and tears and fear for their entire goddamn lives--to build our spaces in secret have done a hell of the fuck a lot more for the representation of queer love in fiction than any of you shitheads whining about how fandom is too shipping-focused, how these hags belong in the kitchen should be doing their taxes and raising their children instead of '''invading fandom spaces.''' these women did genuine actual fucking grassroots activism against systemic oppression so you, the assholes in the audience, could sit on your ass and reap the benefits while you actively contribute to the resurgence of that systemic oppression, no less.

do your research, put your money where your mouth is to contribute a tenth of what these women did for society, or shut the fuck up.

I know "60s housewives who invented slash fanfiction" has taken on a life of its own as a phrase, but Kirk/Spock didn't really exist until the 70s and THOSE WOMEN HAD JOBS. They were teachers and librarians and bookkeepers and scientists and they damn well spent their own money going to conventions, printing zines, buying fanart and making fandom happen. Put some respect on their names.

[bumblesimagines]

Curiosities

Request: Yes or No

Summary: Overwhelmed and distraught by his duties and the death of his child, King Aegon decides to indulge in his favorite pastime: visiting the Street of Silk. However, he decides this time, he wants to seek comfort in the one person he's always been curious about.

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

TW/CW: Typical GoT warnings, Aegon being Aegon, mentions/implications of child exploitation, mentions of teen-adult relationships, mentions of Targcest/incest, death of a child, sexual content dontttlookatme, (Y/N)/Reader is a brothel worker, potential spoilers for S2, mentioned/implied homophobia (the Faith)

Aegon is a pathetic wet cat of a man (derogatory) but Tom is so pretty

~~~

Aegon hardly remembered the first time he'd visited a brothel.

Perhaps it was the mixture of drinks in his system preventing him from recalling the first time he'd stepped foot in a brothel. He'd been a teenager, he knew that much, and he'd likely paid for the prettiest woman in there. He'd had enough experience messing with the maids around the castle to know what to do and he'd ensured to pay well for the service. But despite not recalling the act itself or even the woman he'd done it with, he vividly recalled the worker who'd caught his eye the second visit. 

It'd been a week or so after the first visit and he'd gone in sober, willing to drink whatever the brothel had in stock until he passed out or was kicked out. He sauntered in with his typical confidence. He was a prince; everyone wanted a taste of him. The other customers in the brothel regarded him with smug smirks and nods of acknowledgment, to which he returned with the same smugness. He'd taken a seat at one of the tables and savored the way workers glided toward him in revealing clothing - or no clothing at all - with coy smiles and flirty coos. His eyes, however, failed to lock on the women flocking to him. 

Across the way, he noticed one of the rooms with the curtains drawn back by a few inches, giving view to the worker and customer inside. A boy around his age, perhaps a year or two older, sat on the bed with his rope drawn back and hanging loosely from his shoulders. A woman had her head on his chest, her eyes shut tight and cheeks stained with tears while her red-colored lips formed words.

The sight would've made him laugh, it was utterly pathetic for a grown woman to cry on the chest of a boy, but his heart lurched longingly when the boy raked his fingers through her hair and gently rocked her. The act looked so... sweet.

"Who is that?" Aegon questioned one of the women settled at his side, hardly paying any mind to the soft stroking of his chest. She tilted her head over her shoulder, searching for what'd caught his attention before she spotted the two. She gave a soft hum and looked back at him, her lips delicately dragging over his cheek and stopping at his ear. 

"That would be (Y/N)," She told him softly, her voice velvety. Her long lashes tickled his skin. "Poor Nora lost her husband to a horrible fever not long ago, My Prince. I hear he looked like (Y/N) in his youth. She seeks comfort, not pleasure." 

"I see," Aegon murmured and finally took a swing of the wine offered to him, waiting for it to settle into his veins before he gave in to the ladies around him. His eyes continued to drag toward (Y/N) throughout his stay. 

Men in brothels were no surprise, not to frequent customers, at least. Some enjoyed the company of men without facing scrutiny, some needed the money, and others were simply raised in the brothel. Throughout his visits to the brothel, Aegon learned it'd been the latter for (Y/N); a boy born in a brothel who simply never left. He found his curiosity spiked with each visit, each time he caught sight of him serving wine or slipping behind the curtain to entertain someone new.

Aegon never approached. It was completely new territory, territory he'd been told by septas and maesters he should never enter. 

It'd only been when his little son and heir died at the order of his older half-sister that he decided he couldn't give a rat's ass about what the Seven thought of him. They'd never given him a time of day, even as the King of Westeros, so why should he care? His son was dead, his sister-wife was a mess, and the Council acted as if it were all a mere inconvenience. 

When he staggered into the brothel that night, everyone stopped their doings to stare at him wide-eyed and silent. Each of them bowed, whether dipping their heads or bending at the waist and watched him as if waiting for him to crack. Aegon hated it. He hated how everyone seemingly viewed him as weak. He was the King, for fuck's sake! The wine and ale swimming through his veins made his senses and emotions heighten, forcing tears to spring to his eyes. 

"Drinks on me!" He hollered into the room, and the crowd within erupted in cheers and whoops, the energy returning to the room tenfold. A laugh tumbled out of his lips and his shoulders straightened, soaking in the gleeful looks and nods sent his way. They loved him now, even if they believed him to be a usurper or not. They loved him.

Aegon took a goblet from a table and drank its contents, feeling the liquid burn his throat and send a shudder up his spine. He set the goblet aside and wiped his lips with the sleeve of his shirt, vibrant eyes searching the room until they spotted the object of his desire. He made a beeline for him, ignoring the ladies who attempted to catch his eye until he stopped by him and grasped his arm a tad roughly. 

"Your Grace?" (Y/N) stumbled slightly with the tug, his grip on the pitcher tightening to avoid spilling any wine. He stared at him, brows lifting and eyes blinking owlishly. Aegon had never seen him up close before, and regret settled in his belly at the realization. What a fool he'd been, letting time pass him by. 

"You're mine for the night," Aegon told him, taking the pitcher from his hands and setting it down at the table he'd been serving. The men there shifted uncomfortably under Aegon's stare, none of them uttering a single word of protest and instead turning their attention onto the other workers around. 

Brothels had unspoken rules. Everything that happened in a brothel, stayed in the brothel. No one spoke a word of what went down or whom they saw within the walls of one, unless they wished for their own secrets and pleasures to be spilled to the public. Of course, Aegon expected his new Master of Whisperers to hear of it by the time he returned to the Red Keep, but he trusted Lord Larys to keep it to himself. 

Without another word, he turned toward the nearest empty room and tugged the curtain open far enough for the two to step inside before tugging it close again. Aegon's heart raced in his chest, be it from the drinks or genuine excitement, he couldn't be sure. He turned to face (Y/N), finding the young man already seated at the edge of the bed watching him. 

"What do you want, Your Grace?" He asked gently, his head tilting to the side while Aegon fumbled to get his clothes off fast enough. He looked enticing in the soft candleglow with his rope pulled apart to show his chest and stomach. It made heat spread throughout Aegon's body. 

Discarding his layers of clothing, he stumbled forward and grabbed hold of (Y/N)'s face, lips slamming against his clumsily. "You." He exhaled and pressed their lips back together, pushing (Y/N) flat against the bed with ease and digging his knees into the mattress. His hands forced the silky robe further apart, undoing the belt and pushing it further down (Y/N)'s shoulders until he could grab a fistful of it and yank it off the bed. 

"What is it you want from me?" (Y/N) asked next, breathless and head tilting back to allow Aegon more access to his neck. Aegon suckled and nipped whatever skin he could reach, littering his skin with red and purple marks that'd surely vex the Madam who owned the brothel, but he was a king. He could do as he pleased. 

Aegon laughed airly in return, leaning back to admire his work and pressing his thumb into one of the bruises. "What everyone else wants." He responded, eyes slowly raking over the rest of his body; from his rising and falling chest down to his thighs. Irritation flared in him at the fading mark of fingers and he placed his hand over his thighs, squeezing until he ensured the only mark left was by him. 

"Your Grace," (Y/N) reached out to cup the nape of his neck, and in one swift move, Aegon found himself lying beneath him. He blinked up at him and then laughed giddily, hands flying to (Y/N)'s hips and squeezing the flesh there. (Y/N) leaned back on his thighs and took him by the shoulders, pulling him up into a sitting position so they were face to face. "What do you really want?"

"Yo-" The word died in his throat when (Y/N)'s fingertips brushed back his messy silver hair behind his ear. His lips pressed together tightly, eyes jumping away from the worker to focus on the lewd mural painted over the wall. (Y/N)'s palm pressed against his cheek, his thumb stroking his skin.

The gentleness of it, the sweetness, the comfort. It was all foreign to Aegon. He was used to being slapped, pushed, screamed at, ignored. Nobody had ever touched him with genuine kindness, not even Ser Criston who seemingly preferred his brother over him, or his mother who spent most of her time staring at him in exasperation or disappointment. The only people who ever looked at him with pure love and adoration... were his children. Little Jaehaerys.. 

Tears sprung to his eyes immediately, a sob threatening to rise in his throat. His teeth clamped down on his bottom lip as his vision blurred, fingers curling around the sheets in a desperate attempt to stop the tears from falling. He couldn't cry in front of someone else, much less a stranger. He was a king. He had to be strong. Crying showed weakness. Aegon wasn't weak. No, no, they were all wrong. He was strong. He-

"I'm here, Your Grace." (Y/N) cooed softly, and Aegon's eyes snapped back to him. He smiled kindly at him and pulled him closer, his fingers tangling themselves in Aegon's hair. They ran through the silver locks sweetly, comfortingly, detangling the knots that'd formed and scratching gently at his scalp. "I'll take care of you."

With that, the wall he'd so desperately built crumbled, his arms slinging around (Y/N)'s waist as his lips parted to release whimpers and muffled wails. (Y/N)'s arms curled around his shoulder, cradling his head and humming gentle lullabies Aegon vaguely recognized. His body trembled and shook with each sob and cry, arms pulling and tugging him closer; seeking out the warmth and comfort he'd been deprived of since his childhood. A father who ignored him, a mother who begrudgingly cared for him, siblings who hardly liked him... a dead son. 

(Y/N) only moved to lean back into the countless pillows, bringing Aegon along with him and letting the king rest his head over his chest. His skin had long grown wet with tears and saliva but he remained silent, focused on rubbing circles along Aegon's back and brushing back his hair until the hiccups and sobs subsided, quieting down into sniffles and tired sighs. Part of him wanted to feel embarrassed but he felt too exhausted to allow the emotion to take hold of him. 

"I'm sorry this happened to you, Your Grace." (Y/N) told him softly, and Aegon's face scrunched up again, the last few tears spilling down his cheeks. Nobody had bothered to comfort him, and he'd been too overwhelmed by everything to seek it from his sister-wife. They hardly understood each other. Her with her odd riddles and sayings, him with his drinking and affairs. 

(Y/N) shifted underneath him, reaching over to the nightstand and retrieving a handkerchief. He dipped his fingers under Aegon's chin and tilted his head toward him, gently dapping at his cheeks and under his nose, drying and cleaning the evidence of his weeping. Nothing in his face changed, no disgust or boredom in his eyes. Only the kind smile and soft eyes. It made Aegon relax fully and completely. 

His fingers tightened on Aegon's chin, tugging on it gently and pulling the king up before connecting their lips again. Aegon slumped against him, his clear mind focused on the softness of his lips and the hint of wine still on his tongue. The back of (Y/N)'s ankles met Aegon's bare thighs, carefully pushing against them until their hips were pressed together. He swallowed the breathy whine that escaped Aegon, a brief teasing smile appearing on his face before Aegon began rocking needily against him, the smile vanishing. His parted lips allowed Aegon to venture into his mouth, tongues colliding on occasion. 

The hand along Aegon's back began exploring, running over the muscles he'd developed despite spending most of his time lazying about. His hand dipped downward and playfully squeezed the mound of flesh there, a low groan escaping Aegon. He pressed his forehead against (Y/N)'s, his lips curling into a smirk at the innocent look that (Y/N) gave him. Cheeky bastard. It was expected from a brothel worker, though. 

The clumsy rocking of his hips increased and the fingers that retangled in his hair gave a tug, gentle enough to not create any real pain but hard enough to get his attention. Aegon whined and dropped his head down to (Y/N)'s shoulder but he eased his rocking, his fingers digging tightly into the pillows and sheets beneath him. At his easy submission, (Y/N) smiled again and pressed a chaste kiss to his temple. 

"Good," He breathed and Aegon flushed at the way heat rushed to his lower belly. (Y/N)'s hand left Aegon's backside and reached for the nightstand again, pulling out a small round cup and bringing it closer. Despite his trembling thighs, Aegon managed to peel himself away from (Y/N), the loss of contact making his hips buck. 

"What is..." Aegon trailed off, (Y/N)'s hand taking his wrist. His thumb swiped over Aegon's fingers, pressing each down until one remained uncurled. The realization dawned on him fairly quickly, the way his features brightened making (Y/N) laugh softly before he dipped the finger into the liquid Aegon assumed to be some sort of oil. 

"I'll guide you, Your Grace." (Y/N) told him softly, setting the cup aside and guiding his hand down between their bodies. Aegon's eyes flickered between (Y/N)'s face and his hand, a strangled curse escaping him when warmth greeted his digit. His free hand tightened further around a pillow, the designs threaded into it imprinting in his palm. The way (Y/N) held eye contact hardly helped with his attempt at self-restraint. 

His mind ran wild, promptly forgetting about politics or the fact they were nearing a war for the first time in decades in order to focus on (Y/N)'s face. The darkening bruises along his neck only made Aegon's mouth water and heart flutter with pride, every gentle gasp and quiet whine that left him only made his veins burn with desire, something he found more addictive than the intoxication of wine. His head swooped down, burying itself in his neck to drag his tongue over the bruises and darken them even further with more suckling.

His hand began moving, slowly and experimental at first. Aegon hardly considered himself a gentle lover, for he preferred the joy of rough and fast fucking, only ever being considerate when it came to his sister-wife. Even then, even with Helaena, he often chased after his own high and pleasure over everyone else's, but he'd been desiring (Y/N) for far too long to make a fool of himself. When he curled his finger and heard (Y/N)'s breath hitch, he smirked and slipped in a second digit. 

Aegon humbly believed himself a quick learner when it came to things he enjoyed, so by the time he added a third digit, he'd already ensured (Y/N) had turned into a panting and whining mess. (Y/N)'s heels dug into his calves roughly enough to turn his pale skin red, the subtle hint of pain only fueling him to quicken his pace. He'd left (Y/N)'s collarbone and part of his chest covered in markings, ensuring any other patrons (Y/N) took for the following days knew who'd taken him to bed. 

The hand tightly gripping his bicep flew down to Aegon's wrist, squeezing around it and pulling his fingers out. His lips formed a pout immediately but he savored the gasp and light huff that escaped (Y/N). He swallowed and leaned up, capturing Aegon's lips again before pushing back against him, toppling Aegon onto his back once again and straddling his hips. Aegon's eyes brightened, his hands digging into (Y/N)'s thighs in anticipation. 

"Shit," A guttural groan left the king, his blunt nails leaving imprints in (Y/N)'s skin when he wrapped his fingers around Aegon's length, his thumb pressing over the slit. Aegon's hips bucked and he threw his head back, his adams apple bobbing with a harsh swallow. His chest heaved and a mixture of a whine and a plead fell from his lips like a prayer. 

"Easy, Your Grace." (Y/N) cooed, his free hand moving to Aegon's chest and pressing against it, fingers gently massaging into the muscle. The hint of mischief in his words didn't go over Aegon's head. His heels dug into the crinkling sheets and his nostrils flared with the deep breath he took, his grip on (Y/N) loosening and thumbs rubbing over the areas apologetically. (Y/N) nodded approvingly and Aegon gave a lopsided grin. 

His composure lasted a whole three seconds before it crumbled with a few pumps from (Y/N)'s hand, though he only continued with a chuckle instead of scolding him. Aegon's eyes turned glassy again from the sensations, his breath hitching every few minutes while the knot in his stomach tightened. He let out a whiny noise when (Y/N) paused his movements, his bottom lip jutting out. However, when he caught the way (Y/N) pushed himself further on his knees and hovered over him, he clamped his mouth shut. 

Aegon's breath hitched again followed by a sharp curse as (Y/N) lowered himself at an agonizingly slow pace. A dribble of drool slipped out from the corner of his parted lips and trailed down his cheek. His mind had long gone blank, the only thing he focused on being the sensation of (Y/N) taking him with only soft pants and the occasional hiss. He desperately wished to move, to flip them over and ensure (Y/N) wouldn't be able to walk for at least a day but he wanted to be good, he wanted the praise he rarely ever got. So he remained still, hands moving to (Y/N)'s hips and clawing lightly at him. 

"You're doing-" (Y/N) cut himself off with a soft grunt, the hand at the base of Aegon's length leaving to plant itself on his other shoulder. Aegon swore he saw stars when (Y/N) fully settled on him. (Y/N) breathlessly laughed at the awestruck, hazy look on Aegon's face, his hand gently cupping his cheek and kissing him. "-so well, my sweet Aegon." Aegon whined softly at that. 

"Please," Aegon whispered and (Y/N) gave him a thoughtful look despite the teasing curl of his lips. "I'll be good." He murmured, words slurred but he hardly felt the effects of everything he'd taken that night. 

"Will you?" (Y/N) still sounded breathless, the candlelight showing off the gleam of sweat on his skin. His hands moved from his shoulders to wander over Aegon's chest and stomach, trailing over his biceps and arms until they reached his hands and laced their fingers together. Aegon nodded hurriedly, so desperate and wanting but the feeling of their hands together made his stomach flutter with a newfound emotion. 

"I-" Aegon had little time to finish his sentence before (Y/N) rose to the tip and then slipped back down to the base, the action knocking the air out of both of them and further tightening the knot threatening to break loose at any moment. One of (Y/N)'s hands untangled itself from Aegon's to slam beside Aegon's hand, a half-hearted attempt at balancing and grounding himself. Aegon held onto the other hand tightly, refusing to let him go for even a second. 

(Y/N) leaned down and pulled him into a heated kiss full of all tongue and muffled cries, Aegon's restraint chipping fully away when (Y/N) grinded down on him a few times. He pushed himself up into a sitting position and wrapped his arm around (Y/N)'s waist tightly, his thighs beginning to ache and burn deliciously.

"Go ahead," (Y/N) exhaled on his lips and Aegon lost himself. 

Much time passed, the sound of pained groaning and grumpy muttering from the other side of the window telling them the sun would soon be rising. The thumping footsteps of patrons nursing hangovers echoed through the brothel as they shuffled out, the jingling of coins and such mixing in. The quiet chatter of brothel workers followed, cups and chairs clinking as they began cleaning up. 

"Your Grace," (Y/N) sighed sleepily, his eyelids visibly heavy and lip slightly jutted out. Aegon felt equally as exhausted but the sight of him rubbing tiredly at his eyes made his heart swell, finding himself unable to resist kissing his semi-swollen lips. (Y/N) hummed softly, his fingers slipping between their faces to push Aegon back. "You must head home. Your-" He cut himself off with a yawn. "Your kingdom requires you." 

"I'd much prefer staying here forever," Aegon responded, coiling his arms tightly around (Y/N)'s body and dragging him closer against him. His whole body ached, his muscles sore and head spinning from the beginning of a hangover. (Y/N) breathed out a snort and rubbed his cheek into the soft satin pillow, eyes beginning to droop. 

"You mustn't. They'll come looking for you, Your Grace." 

"Aegon." He groaned. "Call me Aegon."

"Aegon." (Y/N) repeated softly. "Go home."

"Come with me, then," Aegon told him quietly. At his words, (Y/N)'s eyes snapped open, the sleep jerked away from his body and replaced with surprise. Aegon chuckled at his wide-eyed expression. "Come with me to- to the Red Keep. Come... be my paramour. You'll have your own room near mine... and- and you'll receive whatever you wish for. No one will dare say a thing."

(Y/N) stared at him for a long moment before he cupped Aegon's cheek and pressed a fleeting kiss to the tip of his nose. "You're exhausted, Your Grace. You do not understand what you're saying. You'll come to once you properly rest. You must go now before the sun rises and others see you." He said, slithering out of Aegon's hold to retrieve their clothes. He slipped his robe on with ease and offered Aegon his tunic. 

"I'll get dressed," Aegon took his wrist and dragged his lips over the back of his hand. "If you agree to become my paramour and live in the Red Keep." 

"We're only allowed in the Red Keep to entertain, Your Grace. You'll never be allowed to have a brothel worker as a paramour, much less a man. The Faith will never allow it. The Dowager Queen and- and-" 

"I do not care what they think. I am King. I can do whatever I want, and I want you to be mine."

[aimfor-theheart]

Why is it that dc such as r@pe, sa, and incest is totally okay to write about and romanticize but y’all draw the line at racism, fat phobia, and homophobia *talking about the writings creators make, not personal beliefs*? Whats the difference between these things? All of them are hurtful and affect people in real life, so why is everybody on here choosing and picking one and not the other? Do writers on here think that they are not comparable or that one is okay to romanticize and the other is going way too far?

Im just genuinely curious as I have seen this topic be brought up again and again, which has made me realize this and Id like to see it from someone else's pov.

hi! there is a lot to answer and unpack here and i have every intention of doing so underneath the cut. forgive me if this gets long, but you’ve asked me 4 very massive questions that i think warrant detail, nuance, and thought. there is a lot i’d like to say here.

that being said, mind the content warnings and protect yourself.

cw: mentions of rape, incest, racism, homophobia, fat phobia, discourse in general

firstly, i am going to choose to give you the benefit of the doubt in assuming you are actually curious in hearing another side and you are not simply looking to stir a pot or pick a fight with beliefs you have no intention of changing or having an open discussion on. your accusatory tone in the first half indicates otherwise and kindly, i am not an idiot. but i want to earnestly talk to you about this and again, will think better of you than you perhaps have indicated you think of me.

secondly, you do not have to censor words like rape in my inbox. that sort of censorship has become wildly popular because of tik tok and other money-hungry social media that also desperately want to silence people. do you know why you have to censor words like that on tik tok? or words like genocide? suicide? racism? 1. so that they can make money and market and push their squeaky clean algorithms but 2. and perhaps worse, so they can silence victims. if social media platforms and capitalism and the systems of powers had it their way, you would never utter these words again—whether to call someone out for justice or to have an open discussion like this one. i encourage you greatly to think critically about this and how you choose to use censorship and why.

now, to your questions.

to preface, i am interpreting this ask as being anti-dark content in fiction as you state that ALL these subjects harm people in real life. or at least, you are being critical of all dark content in fiction and the way writers engage with them, effectively ‘picking and choosing’ which are deemed acceptable and which aren’t, when they are all hurtful. i apologize if that wasn’t your intention/what you believe, but regardless, i’ll endeavor to answer you.

i personally have drawn no lines about dark content nor spoken about any of these topics specifically really, which indicates to me you have a different narrative and/or are coming from more inflammatory arguments that are always circling fandom lately. in the post i most recently reblogged, i spoke mostly of violence. which, of course, all of those things can be. but i didn’t name one of those topics in particular.

regardless, i don’t believe in the censorship of any dark content in art, but rather advocate strongly for critical analysis on a case-by-case basis. in general, i encourage thinking critically about every aspect of the world around you.

i do not believe that rape, incest, and sa are okay to write about or create art about but racism, homophobia, and fat phobia are not. i believe all of those topics are ones that can, should, and will be explored in the safety of art. all to varying degrees of success, earnestness, impact, and intent. you’re right that these are real things, that can hurt people, and the fictional work about them can have impact on our society that is tangible but the actual art or fiction created is not real. and again, this is all to varying degrees on a case-by-case basis.

art and fiction also historically and massively do discuss these dark content topics and have actively swayed the public’s opinion on matters, whether for better or for worse. throwing away all dark content in art and fiction because it is ‘harmful’ is deeply, deeply dangerous and reductive. a lot of art that engages with dark content actually makes very succinct points about it—i think of vladimir nabokov’s lolita or octavia butler’s bloodchild or speak by laurie halse anderson.

this is where we must exorcise critical thinking. some pieces of work will handle dark content poorly—white saviors making art on racism. men making art about a woman’s experiences that (as you are so interested in) romanticize her pain. etc. etc. and some art will handle it’s dark content incredibly and be transformative, perhaps even revolutionary in how we talk, perceive, or acknowledge systems of oppression, violence, and dark content in this world. some dark content in fiction will have damaging beliefs and effects on society, some will not—we must also look at scope for this, at the writer perhaps, the historical moment, their audience etc.

(for example, there is a significant difference in a main stream male writer, writing of a woman’s experience with rape in a published book in a way that makes it sound romanticized, sold to thousands and thousands of general public vs. a woman using fanfic to explore rape, take control of it, or whatever in a fanfic for a small online community where there are warnings on it. indicating she is aware of its potential damage in a way her male counterpart is not…)

but i still believe in dark contents’ existence in art. of course there is differences between all of these topics you brought up, but i don’t think their differences matter in this answer. i believe in their right to be explored in art. i am talking broadly of media/art here, which i think is the more relevant conversation, but i think you are actually more interested in a much smaller scale of people. ie. fandom. ie. mostly marginalized people in small communities online writing and creating dark content.

people will choose and pick which ones they’d like to create art over and which ones they don’t, which ones they read and which ones they don’t. there’s no ‘hard line’ drawn anywhere. and i can’t control it and neither can you. perhaps you think violence is okay to be explored in fanfic, but racism isn’t. someone else will have different preferences. i do not believe in its censorship.

now, let’s move onto your interest in romanticization and what i think you are more pointing to, which is fandom. you are specifically referring to people in fandom who write about rape, incest, etc. and ‘romanticize’ it—ie. they write about it in a way that is a fantasy. it is perhaps supposed to be horny or sexy. so let’s talk about it.

i must remind you that these topics you’ve brought up (rape, incest, sa) being written are fiction and it is (most often) done by someone marginalized who has either experienced this or is in threat of experiencing this under a patriarchy. i assure you, they are aware of its harm. hence the copious warnings in fandom spaces.

if i can be candid, sometimes i think that people forget how systems of oppression work when discussing fandom and whether dark content being created should be allowed or not.

for example, i sometimes think people who are anti-dark content in fandom believe that a woman or afab person writing a fictional fanfic about rape or sexual violence then influences people to go out and rape people or that women actually like it. when the reality, in fandom spaces, is that rape and sexual violence happen frequently under the patriarchy and then these women in fandom write fictional fanfic in response to cope, explore, take control of, etc. etc.

to insinuate that women or afab people (which fandom mostly is) exploring dark content safely in fiction then causes their own oppression and harm or trauma is rather victim-blame-y to me. fandom exploring dark content does not cause these things to happen in our society….these actions (rape, incest, sa) happen in our society or systems of power and fandom reacts to them in their art by exploring it in dark content. do you understand what i’m trying to say?

it’s not a matter of what is ‘okay’ to romanticize and what isn’t. i do not think the romanticization that fandom does with dark content (ie. my kidnapper actually loves me! or this sexual act that i did not consent to…maybe feels good) is not actually romanticizing but coping because of the systems of power that i described above. and this can be coping with anything—shame of sexuality, shame of fantasies, trauma, fear, etc. etc.

as i said in my tags in that post i reblogged and as plato said, dark content in art is a safe place to explore what would otherwise be harmful and dangerous in real life. it is cathartic. potentially even, a purging.

and even if it isn’t all that—maybe it just is trashy fantasy. it is still playing pretend. it is still fiction and in fandom spaces, it is still most likely being created by a marginalized person. and again, even if it isn’t, we don’t get to censor it. we can be critical of it or wary or whatever, but to censor it, is a slippery, slippery slope. do deem some topics as “acceptable” and others as “unacceptable” is dangerous.

just like kids play pretend where they ‘fight’ or ‘kill’ or ‘kidnap’ or ‘shoot’ each other in games of cops and robbers or heroes and villains, they are safely exploring adventure, dark content, fantasy, tragedy, and higher emotions. adults can do the same in fiction and with adult topics like sex.

and at the end of the day, we don’t get to demand the credentials to do so either. we don’t get to censor them or control them and nor should we be allowed to. i cannot stress enough that i encourage you to be critical of censorship or the absolute disgust in dark content and at those (again—often marginalized people) who engage with it in fandom. i believe it is deeply puritanical, conservative, and dangerous.

you don’t have to like dark content or consume it at all and fandom makes it easy not to with all the warnings and tags, but you cannot control others or police them. nor should you want to.

and at the end of the day, i have some questions for you. you don’t have to respond to this, perhaps they’re just things to think about. what is the end goal here? what is the point in harassing, shaming, attacking, criticizing, or interrogating people in fandom spaces who create or support dark content? do you believe that if it is purged from fandom, it will be purged from our society? if you want it purged from society—shouldn’t you start there rather than in the inbox of marginalized writers in fandom? people in fandom did not create rape, incest, and sa nor do they in their exploration of fiction…they are merely reacting to a world that did create it.

i hope at no point i came off as rude to you, as was not my intention. i intended to stand up for myself and respectfully state my opinions and thoughts on this matter. i’m sorry it got long, but also i don’t believe in being brief on such complex matters. i am a writer who engages critically with the world around me and sometimes, things cannot be made into short, snappy answers. sometimes, we must unpack.

genuinely wishing you well.

[irrealisms]

svsss and sexual violence pt. 1: shen yuan's realization of himself as a target

it's been a while (read: two months) since my last Big Meta so it's time for another one! this one is about my reading of svsss as in large part About sexual violence but it's gonna be in multiple parts; this one is about 1k, with a lot of quotes from canon, and is focused on Shen Yuan realizing that he has been put in a position where he is a target for sexual violence.

standard disclaimer at the beginning: i am not saying that this is the Only thing svsss is about, or that other readings are invalid; i am not intending to character-bash most of the characters here (while i will freely admit to thinking e.g. old palace master or qiu jianluo are pretty one-dimensionally shitty, lots--probably most--of the characters in this series who i mention as perpetrating SA are characters who do have depths & who i in fact like a lot! despite this meta, or perhaps because of it, my second-favorite character is luo binghe, and i am in fact a bingqiu shipper!); and, obviously, huge fucking CW for sexual abuse and adjacent topics.

(also: shoutout to @rooses40stepskincareroutine for motivating me to actually write all this out haha)

TABLE OF CONTENTS pt 1: shen yuan's realization of himself as a target (you are here) pt 2: gender and homophobia pt 3: non-bingqiu sexual violence pt 4: shen qingqiu's body pt 5: we live in a society

When we first meet Shen Yuan, he's oblivious to the idea of himself as a sexual object. He's attracted to others and at times has to deliberately be respectful and not stare, but he never considers the possibility that others might be attracted to him--much less that men would be attracted to him, and certainly not that he would be a target of sexual violence due to this desire. I could get quotes/proof on this but honestly I think this is pretty uncontroversial.

The first point at which this becomes interesting to me in the context of sexual violence is when Luo Binghe returns from the abyss. here's how the choking scene goes:

“During the day, Shizun was so intimate and gentle with Gongyi Xiao, and this evening you lit a lantern, waiting for Liu-shishu until late into the night. What sincere affection. Why, then, are you so distant when it comes to this disciple?” [...] Under the streaming moonlight, Luo Binghe looked even more peerlessly beautiful, as if his silhouette had been carved from ice and jade. He pressed very close, and he spoke with slow deliberation. “After so many years of separation, we meet amidst golden wind and jade dew, yet Shizun incessantly calls someone else’s name. That truly saddens this disciple a little.”

Luo Binghe is jealous of Shen Qingqiu talking about other people, so he "pressed very close" and starts choking Shen Qingqiu out. This is not explicitly sexual--yet--but it has some overtones. And I don't think this is accidentally sexually charged-- bingqiu is in fact our primary ship, which we are supposed to be reading as sexually charged! It becomes more and more explicit that Luo Binghe is jealous of SQQ's relationships with others not just in general but also on a specifically romantic/sexual level! And later in the same scene we get this line:

Luo Binghe looked at him, then said pityingly, “Shizun, that would require someone to believe you.”

I'll be talking more later about what svsss has to say about sexual violence being allowed and supported by society but right now I just want to really emphatically gesture at the above quote.

And then in their next interaction, in the water prison, the system (we will be talking more about the system's role in all of this later) progresses the scene by causing LBH to physically tear SQQ's robes, and we get this section:

That doesn’t mean you should tear my clothes! Shen Qingqiu clutched the remaining fabric tightly and indignantly said, “What are you doing?! Is this your only method of humiliating others?” “It was clearly Shizun who humiliated me first!” 【 Satisfaction points +50. 】 You can add points for that too?! Gross! Why does this feel so sick?!

But notably--even though Shen Qingqiu notices feeling sick and gross and humiliated about having his clothes ripped off--Shen Qingqiu, even here, does not yet recognize any threat of sexual abuse! Gongyi Xiao sees him and instantly assumes that Shen Qingqiu's been raped by Luo Binghe--the torn clothes, the panicked desire to get out and away from Luo Binghe--but Shen Qingqiu has no idea that this is the assumption being made; Shen Qingqiu is, in his narration, still primarily afraid of more physical threats from LBH, a la PIDW; he's trying to figure out why LBH isn't as good at getting wives as in PIDW, and a couple chapters later he's worrying that LBH is asexual. He's been flagged by the narrative (diegetically, even!) as a target of sexual violence--but he hasn't realized this yet.

this doesn't change for a while; while I have things to say about LBH and LQG fighting over SQQ's corpse under this framework, they're not relevant to my current point. SQQ becomes aware of his role as a sexual object when LBH sexually assaults him in the dream world--it's a kiss, so it's something that SQQ is unable to dismiss as a more platonic form of violence:

Shen Qingqiu’s worldview repeatedly collapsed and re-formed, collapsed and re-formed, cycling infinitely at the speed of light.

Suddenly, Shen Qingqiu is being made very, very aware that he is a target of sexual desire, and that people who desire him can force sexual violence on him. He tries to kick and push at Luo Binghe to get out of the kiss--he's described as "struggling with all his might"--but Luo Binghe, who is stronger than Shen Qingqiu and able to overpower him “even though their builds were similar”, keeps him trapped in the kiss. Shortly afterwards, we get this section, which is perhaps the most important section in the whole book for my reading of Shen Qingqiu's arc, which is SQQ interacting with ZZL:

That touch trailed downward until it was at Shen Qingqiu’s chest and abdomen. For some reason, the places he touched felt a bit better. Shen Qingqiu sucked in a breath, and he couldn’t help but say, “Eh, my friend, where…are you touching?” Even a few hours ago, he genuinely wouldn’t have cared where others (especially those of the same sex) touched him. They could touch wherever they liked, please go ahead. But ever since Luo Binghe had opened a series of gates to a new world for him, Shen Qingqiu’s worldview, which had been set for the past twenty-plus years, had suffered a heavy blow. From now on, he needed to look at this world with a new gaze and more sensitive attitude. Especially on the issue of befriending those of the same sex!

for twenty-plus years, shen qingqiu hadn't thought of himself as someone who could be sexually desired by men; for twenty-plus years, shen qingqiu hadn't thought of himself as someone who sexual violence can happen to. and for shen qingqiu, these realizations are the same. suddenly, he's looking at the world differently: he worries about (and imo is afraid of) being touched places where he is normally clothed, even touch that feels good. and specifically--he is touched in a way that he would have previously assumed was nonsexual due to being same-sex and he is no longer comfortable assuming that. which ties heavily into my later post in the series about gender & homophobia & how this interacts with his experiences here! but we'll tie this post up for now.

[wisedelusionalmarshmallow]

@rosekillermicrofic, July 5th - Promise, T, Word Count - 539

CW: Homophobia, Mentions of Panic Attacks, depression, and mania

When the Crouch family's owl had swooped down and left a black envelope on Barty's plate this morning. Evan snatched it away before Barty could even hold it and slid it into his robes to read later tonight.

He knew how severely these letters affected Barty. But they had a system on how to deal with them. When they arrive at their dorms after classes, Evan would read the letter privately, then decide if Barty could. Deeming if the letter was worth the subsequent panic attack and possible depressive or manic episode.

Barty laid his head in Evan's lap while the platinum-haired boy read his letter. Barty was picking black polish off of his nails while he waited for Evan to finish. A nervous habit of his. Evan would normally complain about the dried polish getting in his sheets but he knew how stressful the letters were for Barty so he didn't push it today.

It must be a heavy letter today though, judging by the way Evan's brows furrowed and he chewed his lip while reading. It made Barty even more worried about what had been written.

With a sigh, Evan folded up the letter and placed it beside himself. He looked down and held Barty's face in between his two hands, rubbing his thumbs up and down Barty's cheeks. A sign that Barty was probably going to have to read this one.

"I love you. So much," Evan started. "You're so brave for dealing with this shit and I'm going to do everything in my power to keep you safe." Barty nodded as Evan left a kiss on his lips before passing him the letter.

Barty started to read through the note. His father—his bloody stupid father—not only was ridiculing him on his behaviours, like he does every letter. 'Get that gunk off of your nails. Be a man.' 'Your mother and I taught you how to tie a tie before, use your brain Junior.' 'Stop associating yourself with half-bloods, Meadowes is not a good kid.' 'Stay away from that Rosier boy, we do not need the papers getting wind of this phase you've found yourself in.' But also dropped the biggest bomb that Barty heard from him all year. 'You are to be married next year. We have found you a suitable wife. Discussions of this arrangement will commence when you return home in June.’

He felt the tears on his cheeks before his brain even registered he was crying. Barty crumpled up the letter and threw it across the room, crawling further into Evan's arms.

"Why does he hate me!?" He screamed into Evan's chest. Evan wanted to tell Barty that it would be okay, but he knew that he wouldn't fall for the lie. "Don't do this, don't do that," he mocks.

Barty looks up to Evan, through teary eyes. "I love you Rosie. I don't want to marry another. I only love you. I love you. I love you. I love you," Barty chanted, continuing to sob. He didn't want to give up Evan for some random pureblood girl.

"I love you too Barty." Evan held the other boy closer, tears forming in his own eyes. "We'll find a way out. I promise."

[harpsicalbiobug]

"In a letter dated February 22, 2022, Texas Governor Greg Abbott directed the commissioner of the Texas Department of Family and Protective Services “to conduct a prompt and thorough investigation of any reported instances” of what he called “abusive sex change procedures.” Many condemned the weaponizing of the child welfare system against parents supporting their children. Some highlighted that the directive misuses the vague definitions of child abuse to target LGBTQ+ youth and their families. While I agree with both critiques, I suggest that this framing insufficiently captures the ways the family regulation system—often called the “child welfare system”—fits squarely into the broader project of controlling marginalized families. The issue is not primarily the Texas directive’s misuse of the system but the system itself." - S. Lisa Washington

If you don’t live in Texas it’s probably easy to forget that our state department of family and protective services is still under a directive from our fucking evil state officials to treat trans affirming parents as abusers.

It’s so vile. I have friends who work for other state departments who just told me at someone’s bday last weekend that TDFPS is a dumpster fire of horrific proportions.

[atw2006]

I am fancinated by the people who responded to Misha calling the network that made Supernatural (CW) homophobic by basically being like why did he work at a homophobic network then. It's a small segment of fans, but I just can't wrap my head around the sort of geographical and chronological and economic privilege that implies they've just always been able to walk away from any group, or job they didn't morally agree with.

Not only that, but the "why" he did it is so obvious to me. It's similar to the reasons why I get out of bed in a broken world every day. He worked at that homophobic company to make it less homophobic. So the queer writers would feel safer coming to work, with a good chunk of the homophobia aimed at him, the ally, instead of them. So he could have a 50% success rate at helping his costars unlearn the homophobia they were raised in. So he cold post "You're not crazy" on Twitter when fans were being gaslight by creators about whether things had been on purpose. So he (and others in cohots with him) could literally sneak a queer love confession of his character past the network sensors. So when the network tried to make him take that queer confession back he could say, "I'm supposed to say you interpret it anyway you want, but I as the actor who did the scene think it's a homosexual declaration of love." So when they tried to stop someone at cons from asking a question about the cannon queer character he intervened saying, "No. I want to hear her question. Let her ask it." So, he could call the network homophobic 20 years later and get in trouble for it too.

He stayed with the homophobic network, because when Supernatural started only 1% of people on tv were queer and now we're up to 11% which is much closer to in line with the population. He was a small part of that change. Almost all change happens by fighting within the system, and it absolutely alarms me that some people fear tainting their moral purity by association so much that they are going to take themselves out of the fight all together. A lot of us don't have a choice but to live within the broken system, but I'd do it either way, because I think looking bigotry in the face and demanding change is where the real morality lies.

[psiroller]

My Boy (We Don't See Each Other Much)

a third fic request from unkat has reached me for some gamer au shenanigans. cool, i thought, nice low stakes goofin off fun time au. lets put some military industrial complex in there

cw: institutionalized homophobia, vague references to USAmerican military operations in the 2000's, gamer lingo

The raid was a resounding success by their guild's lax standards. Chilchuck managed to pull a rare light armor piece he'd been looking for, finally catching him up to the modern game; he was surprised by how much damage the standard grinding mobs were doing to him now, even if his defense was always going to be lower than the tanks and fighters he partied with. Laios landed the biggest critical hit he'd ever seen; the broadsword Chilchuck nabbed for him off the Auction House was working well for him. He was clearly still riding the high, humming the victory fanfare under his breath as he took inventory and milled about with Senshi, comparing the ingredients they’d collected, trading amongst themselves. It was late, though, close to Senshi’s prep hours. Marcille was fighting against the cozy lethargy that followed a glass of wine and swiftly losing. Falin had already logged out to take a shower and head to bed, stopping by Laios’ door for a hug goodnight.

Laios went right back to the desktop after he shut the door. He pulled his headset back on and heard the familiar sound of Chilchuck’s raspy inhale and then a long, satisfied exhale.

“Chilchuck!” Laios said, too eagerly. “You’re still up?”

“No, I’m fast asleep,” Chilchuck drawled. Laios snorted and threw a rock at Chilchuck’s head. It passed through harmlessly; neither of them wanted the hassle of dedicated PVP. Maybe Laios wasn’t as keen on roleplaying as Marcille and Falin were, but the roleplaying server had been a lot kinder to him than the standard ones he usually played on.

“You were right about the sword,” Laios tittered. “I really have to start doing the math instead of just looking at bigger numbers—uh, focusing on how sharp the blade is, I mean.”

Chilchuck coughed through a laugh, leaning away from the mic so that it didn’t blow Laios’ eardrums out. “I think some of the guides are a little out of date,” Chilchuck said, relaxed enough to drop character. Marcille was still nearby, though the AFK symbol appeared under her name; the elf she played nodded off, ears drooping.  “Critical chance used to be calculated with this really convoluted system that also included timers, so there were only so many crits you could get in the span of a few minutes,” he went on. “They updated it recently so that you roll for a critical every hit.”

“Oh, thank God,” Laios said. “On a timer? How long did raids use to take?”

“Oh, upwards of four hours.” Chilchuck said casually. Laios sputtered. “I know, I know. I guess people had more free time back then… though with how people run multiple raids a night now, I guess it’s down to how committed you are.”

“So critical hit percentage is the thing I should focus on, then.”

“For your build, yeah.”

“Why does everyone recommend focusing on damage per second?”

“It’s a recent change, I think it got pushed out just before you signed up. They’ve tweaked it a lot, so people tend to get confused on how it works now, as it gets buffed and nerfed. Attack and attack speed used to be connected to the same value, so there are other ways you can focus on dealing damage instead of just right clicking the dragon and watching one of twelve timers tick down.” Chilchuck smiled and took another drag. “I think they’re trying to freshen things up a little. I like the changes.”

“Really? Everyone in the forums talks about how much they hate it.”

“If they’re old enough to be using the forums, they’re old enough to hate their favorite thing changing,” Chilchuck laughed.

“But not you,” said Laios. There was a warmth there that Chilchuck didn’t see a reason for.

“Eh.” Chilchuck’s ears burned under his headset. “Maybe a little bit. They don’t make shooters like they used to.” There was a pause. “Oh, right, you don’t like those.”

“Just the super hoo-rah military ones,” Laios breathed. “I can do Team Fortress 2. That one’s pretty fun.”

“Oh! I play that with—a friend, sometimes,” Chilchuck stammered. “Do you… I’m still kind of wired. I got a day off tomorrow. Do you—”

“Yeah!” His mic clipped. “Yeah. Sounds good.”

“Wait, you don’t have a test tomorrow or anything, do you?”

“… No.”

“I don’t like that hesitation.”

Laios huffed and puffed and logged out of Dungeon Divers with little warning, but usernames were exchanged and soon Laios’ avatar (a dragon, what else) popped up in Chilchuck’s scant friend list, nestled between Dan and May.

“I didn’t think you’d be cool enough to play TF2,” Laios teased.

“Cool people play TF2? I thought it was all screaming toddlers.”

“There are a few of those, yeah,” Laios admitted.

“I played the original game. It was a lot different. I don’t really keep up with it these days, but…”

“No worries,” Laios chirped. “I’ll take care of you.”

Chilchuck felt something zip down his spine. “I’m not that bad.”

They played three matches with the usual late night crowd, and it was a miracle if Chilchuck could stay alive for longer than a minute or two, let alone get a kill. Laios, on the other hand, clawed up every scoreboard and sat at the top. He started with Sniper; Chilchuck followed him while waiting for his respawn timer to run out, flicking between first and third person views. He watched as opponents’ heads would pop like grapes the moment they touched Laios’ reticle, faster than Chilchuck’s eyes could tell his brain to move his fingers.

“Okay, maybe I’m pretty bad,” Chilchuck admitted. “Compared to you.”

Laios missed a shot and sputtered. “I’m concentrating…!” A Spy knifed him, and Chilchuck could hear Laios whack his mouse against the table in frustration. Chilchuck laughed.

“Relax, that’s your first one this round,” he teased. “Your reflexes are crazy. Maybe I’m getting too old for twitchy games like this.”

“The mechanics have changed a lot and all the tryhards are on,” Laios conceded, breathing out the annoyance. “I’ll switch to Heavy. Wanna be my Medic? I can keep more of an eye on you.”

Chilchuck sniffed at his demotion to pocket healer, but then at least he’d be getting assist kills. “Alright, fine.”

Many assist kills were had, and all was well. It was fun to watch Laios’ brain work, bobbing and weaving and jumping around. He played like May did, hyperfocused on the movement mechanics; Chuck’s wrists weren’t any good for that anymore, so he usually hung back to support anyway.

“So why TF2 and not Call of Duty?” Chilchuck asked between matches, lighting another cigarette in search of the now-elusive nicotine buzz. “Seems like you’re really good. You could probably go pro if you wanted.”

Chuck heard a rustling against the mic. Sounded like Laios fiddling with the thing, maybe rubbing his face. He heard a scratch of stubble.

“Eh. I just—don’t like the military aesthetic very much, or something,” Laios mumbled. “I, uh. I served, and it’s a little…”

Chilchuck coughed. “You served? As in, served in the army?”

“Yeah.” There was a chuckle from the other line. “What? Is it that surprising?”

“Well, you just never…” Chuck scratched at the nape of his neck. “You never said anything that made me think… I don’t know what I thought. You didn’t seem like the type.”

“That’s because I’m not,” Laios snorted. “I was a good shot, but not a good soldier, if that makes any sense?”

Chuck wet his dry lips and leaned back in his chair. He didn’t lock into the next game, and the queue dumped them out. Laios didn’t reset it.

“So you objected? Conscientious objection? Is that what it’s called?”

“That’s what it’s called, but uh… it takes a while to get that done if you enlisted voluntarily. You have to plead your case for it. I thought about it, but I didn’t get the chance.”

Chilchuck swallowed dryly, then tapped some ash out into the ceramic tray Patty made for him many Father’s Days ago. “So you were kicked out?”

“Discharged, yeah,” Laios sighed. His chair creaked as he leaned back, too. “Other than honorable.”

Chuck winced. “What did you do?”

There was that rustling again. “I, um. If you don’t ask, I don’t have to tell you.”

“Oh, uh. Sorry, I”—Chilchuck’s eyes went wide—"ohhh.”

“Yeah.”

“Seriously? They booted you over a thing like that?”

Laios laughed weakly. “It’s in the regulations.”

“Still? When there’s, like, five wars going on?”

“Yep. I got a little pamphlet about it and everything. It’s rarer these days, and most people now get let off with an honorable, but…” Laios sighed. “My case was a whole thing. I didn’t fit in great with the rest of my platoon to begin with, and I maybe… I maybe misread some signals. You get bored out there, you know. Lonely. Got a little too close to my bunky…” Laios cleared his throat. “He let me down easy, but I guess he said something to somebody. I don’t think he’d go straight to the brass, he told me he wouldn’t, but someone must have overheard and that counts as credible evidence, so…”

Laios popped his lips with a click of his tongue. Chilchuck was frozen, ashes falling from the end of his cigarette into the crevices of his already dirty keyboard. The cigarette had almost burned down to the filter; money burning up in unsmoked nicotine. “I was probably going to leave anyway,” Laios said, to fill the silence. “I didn’t like being out there. If anything it kept me from being stupid and going AWOL. But if you talk to the VA—or my dad, heh—I  might as well have.”

Laios wheezed. Chilchuck blinked some smoke out of his eyes and stubbed out his cigarette.

“Hang on, you were on active duty and they’re hassling you at the VA over healthcare?”

“Oh yeah. Anything less than a general discharge is going to get you some hassle. I’m still on general health insurance, lowest tier. I’m not on TRICARE.”

Chilchuck pinched the pressure point between his eyebrows. “There’s gotta be a way to appeal that.”

“There might be. But I’ve spent about 40 hours of my life on the phone with them since I got back, and I’m not keen on spending anymore.” Laios made a blech sort of noise, disgusted, a little childish. “I hate phone calls. Besides, they gave me some money for college, so it wasn’t a complete wash.”

“Small miracles,” Chilchuck mumbled.

“Yup,” Laios breathed. He drummed his fingers on his desk, loud enough to reach the mic. Then there were a couple rhythmic bongo slaps against the table, nervous. “Ready for another game?”

Chuck looked at his watch. It was 4:32 AM.

“Sure. Night’s still young,” he said, for lack of anything comforting to say. “Play Heavy again.”

“Okay,” Laios said, and there was a smile in his voice. So that was something.