#break sterotypes

[oifaaa]

I really miss Timsteph as a couple because it felt like both of them got to grow together and now we have whatever the pride special was…

See I could take or leave timsteph but that's mostly due to my own personal bias (stephcass my beloved) but also I have the same problem with timber that I have with JonJay which is dc doesn't want to upset anyone so they keep the relationship safe and non problematic which unfortunately just doesn't make for interesting reading and obviously this isn't just them this is more the direction dc overall is going

[jet-apologistmybadhomies]

just heard that truck useres especially lifted once are Stereotyped as bad/annoying ppl who fuck with ppl to yk work through their issues

and sure u heard of these ppl BUT For that to be a Stereotype?? its soooo funny cuz i Always have and will headcanon jet as a Truck driver😭 and tbh this just conviced me more

[danaty-consolation]

RYUGISA IS HERE EVERYONE!!!

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH I AM SO EXCITED TO SEE MY BOY AGAIN!!!

[starlit-mansion]

Someone related... i took corv to the magic event but forgot my phone and got so bored after i finished clothes shopping that i bought a dnd lorebook about dragons exclusively and it was giving me many ideas for port emmerledge

[koipalm]

ok but the sisters :(((( yeah i am crying

[transsexula]

Something incredibly upsetting about being the kind of person to cry any time I have a big feeling. Why do my tear ducts need to be attached to my emotions? As soon as they get Too Big I'm all tears. I can't have a conversation about serious shit like an adult, i have to start it off with "I can already feel myself tearing up so please don't treat me any differently even though I may end up messy crying. I can't stop it but we need to talk about this."

Like how humiliating is that?? The fuck???

[gilded-gheists]

Fem Breaking bad be like:

My name is Winona Hartwell White. I live at 308 Negra Arroyo Lane, Albuquerque, New Mexico, 87104. This is my confession. If you're watching this tape, I'm probably dead, murdered by my sister-in-law Hannah Schrader. Hannah has been building a meth empire for over a year now and using me as her chemist. Shortly after my 50th birthday, Hannah came to me with a rather, shocking proposition. She asked that I use my chemistry knowledge to cook methamphetamine, which she would then sell using her connections in the drug world. Connections that she made through her career with the DEA. I was… astounded, I… I always thought that Hannah was a very moral woman and I was… thrown, confused, but I was also particularly vulnerable at the time, something she knew and took advantage of. I was reeling from a cancer diagnosis that was poised to bankrupt my family. Hannah took me on a ride along, and showed me just how much money even a small meth operation could make. And I was weak. I didn't want my family to go into financial ruin so I agreed. Every day, I think back at that moment with regret. I quickly realized that I was in way over my head, and Hannah had a partner, a woman named Guadalupe Fring, a businesswoman. Hannah essentially sold me into servitude to this woman, and when I tried to quit, Fring threatened my family. I didn't know where to turn. Eventually, Hannah and Fring had a falling out. From what I can gather, Hannah was always pushing for a greater share of the business, to which Fring flatly refused to give her, and things escalated. Fring was able to arrange, uh I guess I guess you call it a "hit" on my sister-in-law, and failed, but Hannah was seriously injured, and I wound up paying her medical bills which amounted to a little over $177,000. Upon recovery, Hannah was bent on revenge, working with a woman named Heckie Salamanca, she plotted to kill Fring, and did so. In fact, the bomb that she used was built by me, and she gave me no option in it. I have often contemplated suicide, but I'm a coward. I wanted to go to the police, but I was frightened. Hannah had risen in the ranks to become the head of the Albuquerque DEA, and about that time, to keep me in line, she took my children from me. For 3 months she kept them. My husband, who up until that point, had no idea of my criminal activities, was horrified to learn what I had done, why Hannah had taken our children. We were scared. I was in Hell, I hated myself for what I had brought upon my family. Recently, I tried once again to quit, to end this nightmare, and in response, she gave me this. I can't take this anymore. I live in fear every day that Hannah will kill me, or worse, hurt my family. I… All I could think to do was to make this video in hope that the world will finally see this woman, for what she really is.

Why do you like Breaking Bad? It's such a masc interest

DO YOU HAVE A BRAIN THAT YOU USE

[midnight-thinker04]

I love the fact that Mizu isn't buff. I practice kendo (swordsmanship/japanese fencing) since I was a kid and people that don't practice it keep asking me why am I skinny even tho I've been training for almost 10 years. I look just like her. I dunno, I kinda feel seen, somehow...? I just think it's great to finally have a break from the sterotypical "they fight, therefore they are super muscular". Like... different body types exist yall

[liveontelevision]

YeeHaw | Lucifer x Reader

FUCK IT WHY NOT

This is a short little thing based off of @bat-boness drawing, requested by @nayomi247 , that also inspired TWO OTHER COWBOY FICS by @nayomi247 and @heart-of-the-morningstar

This community is fucking hilarious and amazing. Check out their stuff next ✌️

CW - suggestive, not super smutty, just Lucifer bein a silly Lil guy.

---

"It's a date!" You struggled to hide your excitement after being asked to accompany the king of Hell on a little trip to the park. That's how he worded it, but you could tell by his fidgeting hands and inconsistent eye contact his true intentions were more romantic.

You were a sterotypical maiden type from western times, your southern drawl still slightly present even after death. You had been in Hell awhile, but the idea of redemption interested you enough to check out the Hazbin facilities. After staying at the hotel for a few months, you became pretty friendly with Lucifer. He left you a nervous wreck at first, his title much more intimidating than his physical appearance. So, it didn't take long for you to realize how much of a sweetheart he was. In contrast, the more time you spent with him, the more anxious he was becoming. God, he was cute.

Admittedly, you had a few encounters already, where things seemed to become heated without either of you really calling attention to it. Some drunken interactions lead to lips locking, and after that, he couldn't even meet your eyes without coming up with some poor joke or excuse to break the tension. The jokes weren't really that funny, but when he followed them with a little eyebrow wiggle and a toothy smirk, you couldn't prevent the smile hitting your face.

It was only a matter of time before he finally decided to make some kind of offical move, even if it was just a "walk in the park." You didn't realize how excited you were until you stood in your room struggling to decide on what to wear, overthinking every little detail. That didn't last long, you decided on a cropped turtle neck and suade vest, with some comfortable shorts, acknowledging the unusually warm day, even for Hell's standards. Appearing at your door as you swung it open, Lucifer startled you into stumbling backward. He may be a little nervous around you, but his instincts were fast, pulling you close by your waist with just one arm around you. You really weren't in danger of falling, but you didn't mind his efforts.

You took the chance to lean forward and press a quick peck onto his forehead before gently pulling out of his grip. "Why, thank you, your highness~," you said in a jokingly formal tone. Still speechless by the suddenly intimate interaction, you took his hand and led him towards the lobby. Only a few steps in, he finally snapped out of his fog. "Oh, no! Wait! This way, dear. Come with me." You turned around at his words as he took both your hands and led you backward into a portal that you didn't realize had materialized until just then.

Looking around the new location, you take in the beautiful park that surrounded the two of you. It was still stained with the dark ruby lights coming from the skies of Hell, but even with that, you could tell how lush the greenery was. Finally having the upper hand with you in a state of shock, Lucifer continued to lead you through the forested area. He let out a little tadaa - opening his arms to present a little field, littered with dandelions. A classic red gingham blanket was sprawled neatly across the grass, a little basket placed in the center. "Ahh, how romantic~ This is great, Luci." You sent a little smile to him, but your pure joy and the nickname you previously gave him while flirting with him when you were both intoxicated sent a little shiver up his spine. He offered his hand to you, helping you comfortably sit onto the blanket. The basket held an assortment of charcuterie, little sandwiches and delicate treats, and a bottle of wine that you could argue was too large for just two demons.

After some lovely conversations, and half a bottle of wine gone, you began going into detail about some more embarrassing topics. "I didn't have friends as a kid, honestly." You pulled your knees in towards your chest, taking a quick swig of your wine. " I spent all my time keeping up the stables and riding my horse, actually. and i used to dress all western - a little hat and handkerchief - I wore my boots everyday, too. God, I was such a dork." He quickly shook his head in response. "Absolutely not! That's adorable!" You choked on the current sip you were taking, simply surprised by the little compliment.

He awkwardly cleared his throat and quickly spoke to clear the silence. "B-Believe it or not, I've never actually ridden a horse." You let out a little scoff, almost in disbelief. "Aren't you like 10,000 years old?" The sin of pride took over almost immediately, Lucifer reacting with a subtle eye twitch. Gaging his reaction, you decided to have fun with it. " You wouldn't be able to handle it anyway. Old man." Your words were rude, but the smile on your face and the action of you leaning towards him made his cheeks flush. Also inching towards your face, he hovered just over your lips. "Oh, yeah? Challenged accepted." He spoke smoothly, snapping his fingers and cruelly pulling away too soon. A horse, or whatever demonic creation that can closely be considered a horse, appeared on the nearby pathway. Was he serious? With a little twirl, he somehow managed to change his clothing into a stereotypical western get up. Oh, he was plastered.

This was amazing. You stood up and quietly walked over to the creature, easily vaulting yourself over the saddle. You held out your hand, reaching for Lucifer. "Fine! Get up here, then. I'll show ya how it's done." Your confidence alone was enough to get him riled up. With a throaty chuckle, he ignored your hand and sat up behind you with just as much ease. "I'll stop whenever you want to, ya know, in case you can't handle it." You patronized him, wiggling your hips a bit to settle into the seat more. "Please, I can handle anything, darlin'." He wiggled his eyebrows at you, a familiar sight that made you smile before you turned to face forward. Your shorts had slid up to reveal the softest part of your thighs, and your back arched to give yourself a tighter grasp. He gulped at the view he had, pulling his newfound bandana that was tied around his neck to get any kind of air to hit his heated skin.

You began with a steady trot, actually using this opportunity to take in your surroundings. You wondered if he found this place or created it just for you. Gradually speeding up, you felt his arms snake around your waist. He pressed his chest to your back, holding his head up by placing his chin on your shoulder. "This all you got, darlin'? I thought you did this all the time. Where's the speed? The showmanship??" He teased, immitating you with an exaggerated southern drawl. You rolled your eyes, hitting your head against his as a little punishment. What a thespian.  "Fine! Better hold on tight, baby~" You teased him with another intimate pet name. His already flushed face somehow managed to turn even redder.

You snapped the reign, making the creature reel back on its back legs. The sudden shift forced him to place his hands firmly on your waist and pull your bottom flush to his groin. He let out a little pathetic noise under his breath as you set the speed to a brisk ride. The natural movements created an obvious friction to his member, his hands clawing into your hips that he was holding for stability at first. The loose fabric of your shorts were balled up in his fists as he struggled to keep himself sitting straight. His grip for stability turned into him attempting to keep you as close as possible. He rested his head back on your shoulder, his heavy panting hitting your shoulder blade. "Too much? You just gotta tell me to stop and i'll - " He let out a breathy moan towards your ear, some quiet words falling from his lips, " D-Don't.. don't stop..."

This went on for a few more minutes, your autopilot from the familiar hobby allowing you to truly enjoy Lucifer's little mewls. It felt like hours, it was barely five minutes, before you realized you were approaching the hotel. Considering you didn't know exactly where the little picnic date had started, you were confused by the familiar building. You slowed to a stop, turning back to face your mess of a cowboy. He panted heavily, his hands shaking, but still holding tightly onto your hips. He slowly blinked, finally meeting your eyes. "So? Enjoy the ride, darlin'?" You teased, returning his exaggerated western drawl he was teasing you with previously.

The demonic horse slowly faded into the ground, allowing the two of you to steadily come to a standing position. His head fell, his hands propping up his body by tightly holding his knees, still attempting to steady his breath. "T-That was cruel.. you knew.. hah - you knew what you were doing..!" His words fumbled out between breaths. You took a hold of his chin and lifted his head up to face you. "What do you mean? It was just a quick stroll, I thought you said you could handle anything, Luci." Your voice dripped with a condescending innonence as your lips stopped inches away from his. You finally closed the gap with a heavy kiss onto his lips once his breath seemed more relaxed. Immediately moving into his mouth with your tongue, gripping the hair on his neck and pressing your chest into his.

He melted into your touch, gripping onto your waist in a desperate attempt to keep himself standing. After pulling away, you took his hat and placed it on your own head. He snapped out of it, if anything, still a bit wobbly in the knees. "Now, let's get you out of this ridiculous get up. Hmm?" It took him a moment to process your words, but he stood straight and snapped his fingers almost immediately following your statement. "After you, sweetheart!" His excitement completely overtook his nerves, and he gestured into the portal, his bedroom clearly on the other side. You walked in, gesturing him in with your index finger and pulling the hat rim just above your half lidded eyes with your free hand. He let out a sultry chuckle, untying his bandana as he followed you in. Flinging the scarf off his neck, he shut the portal, leaving the poor accessory to fall onto the now silent fields below.

---

@bat-boness masterpiece of cowboy Luci

@nayomi247 sexy lil fic and @heart-of-the-morningstar steamy yummy fic

!Taglist!

( @vififofum @thornwolfy235 @tinywolfiegirl @chipper-chip @bat-boness @misfitgirlwrites @nayomi247 @lonelynmisunderstood )

[sturniolotrip-samandcolby-lover]

Chris sturniolo -focus

Pairing -domChris x British reader fem

Summary -When you decide to show your boyfriend you favourite British show , he gets bored and decides to test how good you can focus .

Warnings - smut , swearing , fingering, unprotected sex, p x v intercourse , slightly Dom Chris ,Dirty talking ,bulge kink , cream pie , praising,multiple orgasms.mentions of spanking , mentions of rough sex , mentions of masturbation. Thats all I think let me know guys if I've missed anything.

Author note -use of y/n , first person and not proofread .

Word count -2k

"Chrisss it's starting" I shout to my boyfriend of 1 year , dragging out his name while he leaves his bathroom and makes his way over to the bed."I don't get why you love this show so much ain't it just about people baking" he replies to me as he lifts the thick blue quilt up so he can get into bed , allowing the cold air to hit my side I'm instantly overwhelmed by warmth as Chris lays beside me ."oh no it's so much more then just people baking , it's a competition , it's entertaining and most importantly it's funny when things go wrong" I say with overenthusiastic excitement describing my favourite show ' the great British bake off' ."sounds like it's even more sterotypically British then you are , what are they going to do in the breaks eat fish and chips with the queen" he says with a awful fake British accent laughing "babe the queen is dead" I say shocked by his choice of words "oh shit yeah" he says linking an arm around my waist as i roll onto my side facing the laptop , I feel Chris make himself comfortable behind me spooning me from behind with my back against his chest .I press play on the screen.

The theme song starts to play and I do my basic girl thing ofo doing a happy little dance eating a deep chuckle from Chris ."you and this show I'm starting to think you love it more then you love me" he whispers in my ear giving me a quick kiss onto my neck."hmmm possibly" I say with a smirk on my face winding him up .*wack* "oh really" Chris says smug as he smacks my ass i can almost hear the smirk in his voice.Resulting in a squeal and laugh from me .We watch the first quarter of the show in a comfortable silence as the adverts start I hear a sigh from Chris as his deep breath hits the back of my neck causing me have instant goosebumps.

He shuffles behind me so that his head is higher up then mine , bits of his hair tickling my cheek "you know what" he says with his voice in a deep whisper I can't help but feel butterflies in my stomach ."you look so beautiful right now" he says kissing my forehead .I feel my face get hot as I blush at his compliment " good job it's dark in here or you'd see me looking more red then a embarrassed lobster but thank you , you look beautiful too" I move my head so that I can reach his lips and I meet them with a light kiss , that both Chris and I smile into .We hear the show begin again so we both draw our attention back to it .

*5 minutes later*

We're still silent as we continue to watch the show when I feel Chris hand move under the waistband of the grey joggers of his that Im wearing, I try to focus on his laptop but the feeling of Chris's rough hands against the peachy flesh of my ass is slightly distracting."hmmm you're so warm mama" Chris talks into my ear more to himself then me.He rubs my ass cheek with his hand and I get deja vu from last time his hand rubbed my ass was last week when he caught me touching myself, Chris decided to teach me a lesson by spanking me and rubbing my ass to sooth me ."I must be that hot " I joke to him pretending to flick my hair , earning a laugh from him .I feel his hand start to move over my hip and close to my exposed core , causing me to let a small whimper of anticipation earning yet another laugh from chris."what are you doing y/n?" He whispers into my ear so innocently as if he doesn't know what he's doing .I keep my mouth shut knowing that the next noise that falls out of my mouth would be a moan ."answer me baby girl" chris says in a demanding tone ."trying to focus" i say through a breath to him ."shall we see how good you can focus mama" he says seductively "what do you me-" im cut off when his hand lands on my pussy with a quick smack."keep focusing on the laptop baby girl and you can cum and if you dont well take a wild guess who isn't coming tonight" He says to me finishing his sentence with another wack to my pussy , I nod my head signaling to chris that i understand."good girl" i hear him say as his fingers move up and down my slit getting coated in my juices ."so wet for me already and ive barely touched you" chris says causing a moan to fall out of my mouth .

"Please Chris , please" I say between breathless moans ."awe what is it baby" he says to me in a mocking tone "please just so something" I respond "well since you asked so nicely" he says in the same mocking tone as his fingers find my clit rubbing in quick circles I throw my head back against his shoulder as the instant ecstacy builds with every move of Chris's fingers "remember focus baby else you're not cumming tonight" he reminds me as my legs start to quiver around his hand."fuck..." I moan out closing my eyes thankfully that Chris was still behind me else he would of reminded me again to focus ."you're so good Chris" I squeal out "look at you already on the brink of cumming and I've not even went inside of you yet" I hear Chris say , sounding distant as I feel my release coming fast "please Chris please I need to cum I'm gonna cum" I say throw pants and moans ."go on baby be a good girl and cum" he says into my ear as his fingers move faster then they was previous as I feel my release overwhelm my body as I'm left a shaking , moaning mess while Chris continues rubbing my clit as he helps me ride through my orgasm ."so good mama , you look so pretty when you cum" he says as he pauses his movements "you're so pretty you're going to do it again " he continues all the attempt of focus has gone out the window as one of Chris's arms reach over me slamming the laptop shop his fingers that are still rest on my clit dives straight into my pussy as he pushes one into earning a instant moan " so tight baby even after I've already made you cum once you're tight" he says to himself more then me as he pushes a second finger in , plowing me he starts of deep and slow as his pace speeds up .The sound of my pussy wetness filling the room , Chris's fingers move so fast and so deep I can hear him talk to me but no words make sense I can't even place words myself I just have moans and whispers falling from my mouth as my second orgasm of the night builds up faster then the first one did ."so wet baby I can feel you clenching around me , do you wanna cum girl" he asks me hypothetically "yes god yes please Chris can I cum" the words leave my mouth in a embarrassing whining sound.Chris uses his spare hand to spread my shaking thighs as they try to close around his fingers , "gotta stretch you out ready to take my cock" I hear him says as he places a third finger into my wet pussy .He fingers go deeper and faster curling to touch my gspot as i throw my head back again as swear words, moans and Chris's name repeatedly falls out of my mouth as i cum for the second time tonight .Again he doesn't stop his actions until my body goes limp against his .He pulls his fingers out of me as i hear him sucking my juices off , i move around in his arm so i could face him when im greeted with his lust filled blue eyes staring into my dazed ones as he sucks his fingers clean of my juices .

"You good baby girl" he asks me I nod my head in agreement to him ."good cus you're gonna do it one more time " he says as he rolls me over already taking my jogging bottoms off."Chris I don't know if I can" I say tiredly to him "you can baby just one more time , cum around my cock let me fill you up mama " he whisper to me grabbing my chin so he can move my head so that I look at him ."okay" I say to him "I wanna watch you cum again" he says as he holds me legs up and open and rest the head of his dick at my entrance before he thrusts in stretching me perfectly, we both let out moans , with our mouths open and staring into each others eyes. He starts thrusting into , fucking me mercilessly .I feel his cock go deeper inside of me I move my hand over to my stomach when I feel a bulge it's Chris dick he's so deep inside of me that he's actually made a bulge in me ."feel this" I say to him between moans as I grab Chris's hand and move it over to where he dick is making itself well known in me."fuck im so deep in you" he said still holding my face so our mouths are touching as we speak were that close .

Chris never slack in his movement as he continues to thrust into me at a inhumane speed , I'm left almost screaming against his mouth showing the Chris that I'm near my release."you're shaking baby" Chris states with a smirk as his hand that is still holding my leg up reaches further up and rubs my already over sensitive clit fast and nearly coming " keep your eyes on me baby , I wanna see your pretty face when you cum on my cock" he says and that's all that it takes for me to release myself over him "good girl such a good girl" he says to me as he helps me ride out my final orgasm ."please Chris" I say to him as my body is exhausted after my orgasms Chris shows no mercy and continues to fuck me relentlessly "what baby" he says in the same mocking tone from earlier "cum Chris please fill me up I want to feel your load" those last few dirty words are all that is needed as its chris time to moan into my mouth as i feel his long hot strings of cum coat my walls .He stills and pulls out of me leaving us both a panting mess as he kisses my now sweaty forehead "im so proud baby , you took me so well".are the last words i hear chris say before i fall asleep with my head against his chest .

[ride-thedragon]

Back to this. If this was the journey, they should've kept Joffrey's book age. I think that's what made it so cruel to me. He finally got to name his child. He finally got to step up into his role as their father, and he lost Laena. "The wise sailor flees before the storm breaks" does not justify him leaving. The threat of Daemon does not justify him leaving. It was cruel with little to no setup and a discredit to Laenor.

I still wish to this day that they had killed Laenor because not only is Seasmoke bonded to Addam somehow (the writers since season one have had this strange idea that dragons bond to many riders at once and that riders bond to more than one dragon) but he left Joffery and Luke.

He left his weeks old son named after his dead lover.

After he lost his sister and her child, who he publicly grieved for.

After he stated he would do his duty and prepare his children for the throne.

After finally being near his nieces, his dead sister's children, who he'd never really been able to be close with.

After knowing they had lost Ser Harwin.

I hate everyone who contributed to this decision.

Laenor au must commence. We can't live like this.

[sporesgalaxy]

On a more specific note did you think Gaz was a good character in the original show?

I mean, yeah in terms of serving the structure of the show well, and yeah in terms of I enjoy her. I always liked episodes that featured her and wish she featured more often.

I can imagine some people dislike her for being angry and mean-spirited but as a weird little sister myself I tend to assume that her harshness and pushy attitude comes from a place of emotionally-stunted, dysfunctional sibling camraderie.

I'd have to actually rewatch the show to really give a good feminist lens breakdown of the character, but I think that might be a really interesting thing to do. Girl being allowed to be angry and violent and vindictive about un-girly things, girl allowed to like violent demon videogames and gross pizza, girl frustrated with being expected to act like a cute little girl by adults and peers..........versus the stereotype of the unrelatable, crazy bitch-for-no-reason. My gut tells me that the sterotype-breaking won out, and that Gaz usually had an understandable reason for being mad when she got mad, but I'd be biased toward reading Gaz as sympathetic no matter what, so giving it a second look might be interesting.

[katshuya]

If Elia and lyanna's positions were reversed

If Rhaegar left his willful, tomboyish, and not like other girl wife for assumingly more feminine, Elia, would the reaction be the same?

Would R x L shippers say it's not their fault and we shouldn't blame R or E because R's marriage was forced to Lyanna?

That we just hate Elia being a girl who chooses who she wants to be with?

Or was it going to be a man who can't bear a woman being independent and strong and feeling challenged because Lyanna has a strong personality?

Would they say that Lyanna wouldn't mind as long as her child is heir and she gets to be queen and get rid of her jerk husband? or would it be humiliating for her?

Or maybe they would say Lyanna wouldn't mind because she is Brandon's sister as Elia is Oberyn's sister, and she is too independent her rough northern self doesn't care if her husband left her ? since she absolutely doesn't love him and because complicated relationships mean zero attraction/love and zero attempts to love each other

Would they say that it is alright because Rhaegar and Elia can be together? or are they going to blame Elia's Dornish nature for thinking she can be with a married man because she sees nothing is wrong with having bastards nor being with a married man? Are they not going to slut shame Elia?

Would they blame Lyanna's impulsive and more tough self for Rhaegar leaving her? like how it's justified that since Elia isn't as fiery or healthy as Lyanna for Rhaegar to leave her? or would they blame Elia for seducing Rhaegar with her more feminine and more allegedly submissive AND her seductive Dornish nature?

Would they write fanfiction about how Rhaegar prefers more feminine delicate desert flower than willful impulsive winter rose like how they do with Elia? Or maybe in their fanfictions, Elia's thrones would represent the stings she caused for Lyanna?

Would they accept the North not being angry and hateful with the Targaryens like how the Dornish shouldn't because the Dornish understand true love and don't mind mistresses or second wives at all in all scenarios?

Would people think Elia was kidnapped and raped? or are they going to be sure that it was consensual since Elia was adult and the sterotypical seductive Dornish, who doesn't mind mistresses and taking married man as lover?

Would they be it's fine because True Love! ? Or would they be furious for Lyanna because she helped and gave Rhaegar everything only to end up overshadowed by Elia?

Would they accept it if George's made it thay Lyanna was fine with Rhaegar having Elia because Lyanna was forced to marry Rhaegar and she and him have a very understanding paltonic love to the point Lyanna care not for her dignity nor all that she gave because she only cares for her child to be king and herself to be queen? Maybe Arthur Dayne, the knight who took his vows seriously, would break them to be Lyanna's lover in this scenario, so everything is ok?

Would they doubt that Rhaella ever cared deeply for Lyanna and Ashara was actully never close to her and just one of many handmaidens, as they do with Elia? Would they say it is because Lyanna is so minor and just a plot device for the North to hate the Lannisters, like how they did this with Elia and Dorne?

Or perhaps Lyanna would be fine because she wants Elia too?

Would the fandom be as apologic with Elia as they are with Lyanna in case she eloped willingly and say that she was totally faultless? and shouldn't be held accountable because of "girl's girl" and "don't put woman against woman," so no accountability? Or that Elia was manipulated by Rhaegar?

And Rhaegar, would the fandom see him as blameless/not that guilty as they see him when he left Elia? Would they also sympathize with the melancholic prince and say: let the poor man have a break and be with his true love! ?

is it a work of art and star-crossed lovers between Rhaegar and Elia in their eyes now? And as someone said, a progressiveness?

Or Would they criticize George for doing this to the cool willful not like other girls Lyanna?

Anyone associated with polygamous culture knows how unrealistic it is for Elia to accept a second wife without being upset about it and has no other choice. And we all know that most will not just be unbothered by it. Women in polygamous/polymorous culture do/would not simply accept it, and when they do, they aren't happy and ok with it. We are humans, and the Dornish are humans, too.

That's just in George's head.

[dailyanarchistposts]

Militant about joy

We want to connect joy to militancy for a number of reasons. We are interested in how the capacity for refusal and the willingness to fight can be enabling, relational, and can open up potentials for collective struggle and movement, in ways that are not necessarily associated with control, duty, or vanguardism. We want an expansive conception of militancy that affirms the potential of transformation at the expense of comfort, safety, or predictability. A common definition of militancy is to be “vigorously active, combative and aggressive, especially in support of a cause.”[29] We are interested in the ways that putting joy into contact with militancy helps link fierce struggle with intense affect: rebellions and movements are not only about determined resistance, but about opening up collective capacities. With joyful militancy we want to get at what it means to enliven struggle and care, combativeness and tenderness, hand in hand.

However, the historical associations and current renderings of militancy are complex. Historically, militancy is often associated with Marxist-Leninist and Maoist vanguardism, and the ways these ideologies have informed revolutionary class struggle and national liberation struggles. These ideals of militancy have been challenged, especially by Black, Indigenous, and postcolonial feminists, who have pointed out the pitfalls of rigid ideology, patriarchal leadership, and the neglect of care and love. The traditional figure of the militant—zealous, rigid, and ruthless—has also been challenged by situationism, anarchism, feminism, queer politics, and other currents that have connected direct action and struggle to the liberation of desire, foregrounding the importance of creativity and experimentation. From this perspective, the militant is the one who is always trying to control things, to take charge, to educate, to radicalize, and so on. This kind of militant tends to be two steps behind transformations as they manifest themselves, always finding them lacking the correct analysis or strategy, always imposing a framework or program.

The contemporary discourse of counterterrorism associates figures of militancy with ISIL,{2} the Taliban, and other groups named as enemies of the United States and its allies. In this way, the specter of the “militant extremist” helps justify further militarization, surveillance, imperialism and Islamophobia. The suspected presence of one militant is enough to turn a whole area into a strike zone in which all military-aged men are conceived as enemy combatants, and everyone else as collateral damage. Within this discourse, the militant is increasingly the ultimate Other, to be targeted for death or indefinite detention. In all of these representations—from the Maoist rebel to the terrorist extremist—the figure of the militant tends to be associated with intense discipline, duty, and armed struggle, and these ways of being are often posed in opposition to being supple, responsive, or sensitive. It’s clear that militancy means willingness to fight, but in its dominant representations, it is cold and calculating.

At the same time, there are other currents of militancy that make space for transformation and joy. When we interviewed her, queer Filipino organizer Melanie Matining spoke about its potential to break down stereotypes:

The word “militancy” for me is a really, really hard one. It was used a lot in Filipino organizing. I would always connect it to the military industrial complex, and I didn’t want to replicate that. And then as I started peeling back the actual things we need to do… As an Asian woman, to be militant—that’s really fucking rad. It breaks down sterotypes of submissiveness. The concept of militancy is a new thing for me, and to embrace it I’m unpacking notions of who I’m supposed to be.[30]

Artist and writer Jackie Wang argues that militancy is not only tactically necessary, but transformative for those who embody it. In the context of anti-Blackness in the United States, Wang shows how the category of “crime” has been constructed around Blackness and how mass incarceration has led to a politics of safety and respectability that relies on claims of innocence, contrasted implicitly with (Black) guilt and criminality. Rejecting the politics of innocence means challenging the innocent/criminal dichotomy and the institutionalized violence that subtends it. This form of militancy, Wang argues, is “not about assuming a certain theoretical posture or adopting a certain perspective—it is a lived position.”[31] Drawing on Frantz Fanon, Wang writes that militancy has the capacity “to transform people and ‘fundamentally alter’ their being by emboldening them, removing their passivity and cleansing them of the ‘core of despair’ crystallized in their bodies.”[32] Living militancy, from this perspective, is inherently connected to a process of transformation that undoes the knot of subjection around innocence, challenges the carceral logics of anti-Blackness, and opens up new terrains of struggle.

When we asked Indigenous political theorist Glen Coulthard about his conception of militancy in the context of Indigenous resurgence, he called it an “emergent radicalism” that destabilizes relations of domination.[33] Coulthard’s work focuses on Indigenous resurgence and resistance to settler colonialism. He reveals the ways that Empire represents Indigenous peoples’ oppression as a constellation of personal failings and “issues” to be addressed through colonial recognition and reconciliation. He also focuses on Indigenous refusal and resistance, the revaluation of Indigenous traditions, and a rise in Indigenous militancy and direct action. Militancy, in the context of Indigenous resurgence, is about the capacity to break down colonial structures of control, including the state’s monopoly on the legitimate use of force; it is a break with the colonial state’s attempt to subjugate Indigenous people and ensure continued exploitation of Indigenous lands. This emergent militancy isn’t based on a single program or ideology, but comes out of relationships, as Coulthard says:

It’s emergent in the sense that it’s bottom-up. But it also emerges from something, and that’s those relationships to land, place, community. So that is the emergent part. Emergent doesn’t mean entirely new, because those relationships to place are not new. They’ve always been there, and are always re-emerging. It comes in cycles. The always-there emergent militancy is acted on through management strategies, recognition and accommodation, whatever. That has its effects: it dampens the crisis, it overcomes contradictions temporarily. And then the militancy will emerge again. And we’ve seen this four or five times in the last half-century, these series of containment/management strategies. …What’s always prior is agency of Indigenous peoples, and capital and the state are constantly on the defensive, reacting. As opposed to thinking that we’re always reacting to colonialism, when we privilege it. It’s this resurgent Indigenous subjectivity that the state is constantly trying to quell or subdue. And it’s successful, but never totally successful. And it boils over, comes to the surface, and some new technology is deployed in order to manage it, and reconciliation is the latest tool that is doing that work. But it’s always because of our persistent presence: we’ve never gone away and we’ve been articulating alternatives in words and deeds.[34]

This conception of militancy as emergent is important because it doesn’t come out of thin air, or from an enlightened vanguard of militarized men who suppose that they can see things more clearly than common people. It comes out of the ongoing refusal of Indigenous peoples to give up their ways of life. As Kiera Ladner and Leanne Betasamosake Simpson write in their introduction to This is an Honour Song,

The summer of 1990 brought some strong medicine to Turtle Island. For many Canadians, “Oka” was the first time they encountered Indigenous anger, resistance and standoff, and the resistance was quickly dubbed both the “Oka Crisis” and the “Oka Crises” by the mainstream media. But to the Kanien’kehaka (Mohawk) people of Kanehsata:ke, who were living up their responsibilities to take care of their lands, this was neither a “crisis” at Oka, nor was it about the non-Native town of “Oka.” This was about 400 years of colonial injustice. Similarly, for the Kanien’kaehaka from Kahnawa:ke and Akwesasne who created “crises” by putting up their own barricades on the Mercier Bridge or by mobilizing and/or mobilizing support (resources) at Kanehsata:ke, this really had nothing to do with Oka, a bridge or a golf course. This was about 400 years of resistance. Like every Indigenous nation occupied by Canada, the Haudenesaunee have been confronting state/settler societies and their governments since those societies began threatening the sovereignty, self-determination, and jurisdiction of the Haudenesaunee. It was not a beginning. Nor was this the end. This was a culmination of many, many years of Onhkwehonwe resistance resulting in a decision to put up barricades in defense of, and to bring attention to, Haudenesaunee land ethics, treaty responsibilities, and governance.[35]

Indigenous resurgence and events like Oka are not joyful in the sense of being happy, but in the sense that they are deeply transformative and able to catalyze solidarity across Turtle Island. But unlike Marxist conceptions of militancy in which the vanguard is supposed to usher in a global revolution, it is clear that Indigenous struggles do not implicate everyone in the same way. As it breaks down colonial structures of control and dispossession, Indigenous resurgence implicates us, as settlers, in complicated ways: it unsettles us and our relationship to land and place, and throws into question received ideas about who we are, our responsibilities and complicities, what it means to live here, and our received ideas about what “here” is. It compels us to learn, together, how to support Indigenous resurgence and resist settler colonial violence.

Joyful militancy has also emerged in spaces where people generate the capacity to move with despair and hopelessness, to politicize it. In her study of the queer movement ACT UP, queer theorist and activist Deborah Gould shows how their militant tactics not only won institutional victories that prolonged and saved lives; they were also a process of world-making:

From its start and throughout its life, ACT UP was a place to fight the AIDS crisis, and it was always more than that as well. It was a place to elaborate critiques of the status quo, to imagine alternative worlds, to express anger, to defy authority, to form sexual and other intimacies, to practice non-hierarchical governance and self-determination, to argue with one another, to refashion identities, to experience new feelings, to be changed.[36]

The militancy of ACT UP was not only about a willingness to be confrontational and defy conventions of straight society and mainstream gay and lesbian politics; the movement also created erotically-charged queer atmospheres and sustained networks of care and support for members who got sick. Catalyzed by grief and rage, it blew open political horizons and changed what was possible for people to think, do, and feel together.

When we asked the Argentina-based intellectual Sebastián Touza about militancy, he discussed the danger of defining it once and for all:

I don’t know if militancy can be defined “as such.” Probably it is not a good idea to define it that way because that would entail a general point of view, an interchangeable and abstract concept, valid for all situations. But, on the other hand, I would say that a militant is somebody who struggles for justice in the situation … Thus we have to pay attention to the situation, to the encounters that take place in it, to how meaning is elaborated there, to the subjectivities that arise as a result of those encounters.[37]

This “situated” militancy does not start from a prefabricated notion of justice. It is an attempt to intervene effectively in the here and now, based on a capacity to be attuned to relationships. An example of this could be Touza’s discussion of the struggle of the Mothers of Plaza de Mayo, a feminist organization that formed in resistance to military repression in Argentina in the 1970s:

Mothers grew up not from strategic plans but from below: from the pain of mothers seeking to recover their children who had been kidnapped, tortured, and “disappeared” by the state. Because they have not separated affects from political activity, Mothers never consider each other means toward ends. Nobody has to be subordinated to strengthen the organization. Rather, they regard each other as ends in themselves. What bonds them together is not an idea but the affect, love and friendship that arises from supporting each other, sharing intimate emotions, moments of joy and sorrow. They organize themselves through consensus, understood not as a system of decision-making or conflict resolution, but as a direct engagement with the lives of one another. As in a now long established feminist tradition, for them the personal is political. Mothers guide themselves by an ethics of intimate conviction whose exercise cannot be detached from everyday life. They have a profound distrust of ideologies and party lines and are proud of their autonomy from the state, political parties, unions and NGOs. Their autonomy does not consist in fighting against a dominant ideology, which might summon the need for the specialized knowledge of a vanguard party, but rather … in the affirmation of liberating aspects of popular culture that already exist among them.[38]

The Mothers are a powerful example of how militancy often springs from everyday life and the bonds of kinship, rather than abstract ideological or moral commitments. These struggles eventually waned or were absorbed by Empire, at least partially. The Argentinean government eventually began using the discourse of human rights and began to offer money and services as an attempt to relegitimize the state and regain control, causing deep divisions between the Mothers and other movements in Argentina.[39] The Canadian government used treaty negotiations, reconciliation discourses, and other formal processes in an attempt to quell Indigenous resurgence and militancy. As Coulthard explains above, new forms of militancy tend to provoke new strategies of containment and absorption by the state, leading to the invention of new forms of struggle. None of these movements stayed frozen in one form: in various ways they transformed, dissolved, shifted, or were institutionalized. But the fact that Empire always invents new forms of containment is not evidence that movements have “failed” or that they were misguided. Joyful transformation sometimes ebbs and flows, becomes captured or crushed, grows subtler or percolates into everyday life, but always re-emerges and renews itself.

Militancy is not a fixed ideal to approximate. We cannot be “like” a militant because militancy—in the way we conceptualize it here—is a practice that is based in the specificity of situations. We cannot become these examples, nor should we look to them as ideals. Rather than boiling joyful militancy down to a fixed way of being or a set of characteristics, we see it arising in and through the relationships that people have with each other. This means it will always look different, based on the emergent connections, relationships, and convictions that animate it.

In relation to this, we believe it is important to hesitate, lest our understanding of militancy become another form of rigid radicalism. Not everyone we spoke with has been enthusiastic about this word. For instance, in our interview with them, writer and artist Margaret Killjoy was ambivalent, emphasizing its connection to armed struggle:

I guess I see it as being someone who is “actively” involved in trying to promote radical social change, and in a non-reformist way. It’s dangerous as terminology … I don’t use it much myself … because of course the first implication it seems to have is that of armed struggle, which is far from a universally applicable strategy or tactic.[40]

We hope that joyful militancy allows for questions and uncertainties that are too often smothered by conventional conceptions of militancy. We also recognize that many will still prefer different language. We are not suggesting that all joyful struggles share an ideology, a program, or a set of tactics. What the above examples have in common is that they express a form of militancy that is attuned to their local situations and arises from people’s needs, desires, and relationships. What we are calling joyful militancy is not a shared content, though we do think there are some shared values and sensibilities. Rather it is an attunement and activation of collective power that looks different everywhere, because everywhere is different.

Besides these highly visible examples, joyful militancy also lives in art and poetry that opens people’s capacities for thinking and feeling in new ways. It is expressed in quiet forms of subversion and sabotage, as well as all the forms of care, connection, and support that defy the isolation and violence of Empire. It is not a question of being a certain way, but a question of open-ended becoming, starting from wherever people find themselves.

[bigmeandragonlady]

put on my heels and im taller then everyone but Kuras

i keep forgetting Ais is only a couple inches taller then me- he gives off stupid tall energy

[heytherelysia]

hsr charas as (sterotypical filipino) highschool students

i was gonna leave it with sampo but i could not resist writing the rest. this is so silly please AAUHGUAH

sampo's the type of guy to tell you "gimme a kiss first" when you ask him for a favor.

bronya as the class president who breaks down when the class won't settle down and be quiet. seele is the one to comfort her and scold the class for making bronya cry, eventually rendering the room dead beat quiet.

serval brings an acoustic guitar to school every day, strumming and sometimes singing during recess. pela is quick to sit beside serval during recess.

dan heng sits either in the window seats or at the back of the class. the type of guy to constantly cover his mouth with a handkerchief. like serval, he only reads when it's recess or when a teacher is not present.

march 7th who pretends that the dustpan in her hand is a selfie stick. going from classmate to classmate as she raises her 'selfie stick', "cheese!". her camera/album is updated everyday, with a new image added for every 5 minutes or so. photos of the sky take mostly of her album.

pela watches dramas, movies, animes, and music videos when it's not class yet. you can occasionally hear her wiggling, stomping her feet, and squealing in her free time. her seatmate is not safe from pela's arm smacks when she is excited. despite that, she is also a star student — excelling in most of the subjects.

gepard as your boyfriend. a teacher's pet and an extra curriculum enjoyer like pela. it bums him that you are in separate classes with him, but he eagerly waits for you outside your classroom after class is over, offering you to let him pick up your bag and walk home with him. gepard doesn't announce his presence when waiting for you by the door but your classmates does. "(name)! your boyfriend's here!", when you hear that sentence, you prepare yourself for a bunch of loud squeals. nonetheless, gepard giggles to himself to this event.

i proudly placed geppie in a pedestal here.