FinallyMadeAFandomBlog

Exactly what it says on the tin. This will cover multi-fandom stuff because I can't stick with just one. Probably mostly MCU but other stuff will show up because I'm fickle. Randa, she/her, 32, ChaoticGoodTwin on ao3.

[blankpointdankmemes]

[matt-ruins-your-shit]

[spaceshipoftheseus]

Look, this is my litmus test: I pretend I am the original Earl of Sandwich. I have asked for non-bread foods to be brought to me inside bread, that I might more easily consume them one-handed while gambling.

This does not enable my wretched regency habits. This is not what I asked for. I do not deign to grace it with the name of my house.

[dirkbolero]

This is the most important addition to the sandwich discourse I have ever read.

[3liza]

me, patiently: the Tumblr porn ban was not a voluntary choice by the company itself because they hate sex workers and gays, it was a gun-to-their-head response to FOSTA-SESTA and the alternative was shutting down operations or getting sued/fined into oblivion. twitter and reddit can afford the lawyers and moderation and other nonsense required to operate under FOSTA-SESTA with porn on the table. Tumblr doesn't have that kind of operating budget. all the other sites that don't have that kind of money had to make the same changes. Craigslist personals and most of the Gigs and Community sections are almost impossible to post on now because of the same changes and lack of budget. i don't care about defending individual companies against accusations of wrongdoing, im saying you need to understand why these things happen and who the real enemy is if you're ever going to get anything done

a 20 year old who has never been tear gassed: why do you, personally, eliza, hate gay people

[sweaterkittensahoy]

This conversation plays through my head any time I see a “queer is a slur” bullshit post on this site or anywhere, really.

(Homer’s Phobia, 1997 – guest star, John Waters)

[sweaterkittensahoy]

Someone just liked this, so I want to add an important note:

“queer is a slur” is a common tool used by TERFs to poison young queers against their own community. They teach young queers that using “queer” is against the rules because “queer is a slur” and then young queers repeat it because the elders in their queer social circle told them so.

Why? Because if young queers understand that queer is a loving and welcoming term for everyone who is not straight or does not match their birth sex, then TERFs lose all their power.

Because TERFs don’t just hate trans and non-binary people. They also hate bisexuals and pansexuals for wrecking their view that to be a wlw, you only live women with vaginas and to be mlm, you must only love men with penises.

But also, to reject the use of queer, you must reject intersex people because TERFs base their entire view on what set of genitals you have, and because intersex people don’t have textbook junk, TERFs don’t like them either.

And you must reject asexual queers across the board because so much of TERF defense is “I just wanna fuck a woman with a vagina or a man with a dick!” And if you have zero or minimal interest in fucking anyone, you wreck their arguments about what queer people want.

You know who else TERFs don’t like? Questioning people. Because to question your sexuality and realize you are straight is a loss for them. To question your gender and realizes it matches your birth sex is a loss for them. Why? Because to question either of these things means you examine who you are beyond a base level, and if you go behind a base level and understand even a basic sense of the confusing and difficult nature of sexual attraction and how it does and does not affect your gender, you can more easily see the holes in TERF arguments, which are all based on stereotypes of gender and sexuality.

The only reason the “B” makes it into the TERF acronym of queer culture is because if they left it at “LG” their hatred of the entire part of the community who is most comfortable using “queer” is a six-foot neon sign.

And to any bisexual TERFs I haven’t yet blocked who want to argue they are bisexual TERFs, so my argument about the use of “B” as a political abuse is invalid: The monosexual TERFs will have you against the wall in a fucking second. You are the sullied allies they put up with until you step out of line.

Lastly, the gay man in this episode is voiced by John Waters. He is a gay legend for tacky film and also an activist for queer rights. When his joke of the Baltimore Museum of Art naming a bathroom after him finally came true a couple of years ago, it was a gender-inclusive bathroom. And he brought his longtime friend and trans activist Elizabeth Coffey with him.

I am certain John Waters would tell you not to fuck TERFs in the same way he has said not to fuck people who don’t have books in their houses. And I am certain John Waters–an out and proud gay man known for his beautiful trash cinema and love and support of trans people–would tell you that queer is not a slur.

[ithelpstodream]

[theroguefeminist]

i haven’t heard the word “cyberstalking” in a long time but it used to be a recognizably bad thing to stalk someone online, to try to dig up everything you can on them, follow their every move online, obsessively post about them, barrage them with messages, block evade, etc - but now it’s just normalized and seen as something totally “ok” to do if the person in question is “problematic” in some way - like the same people who say “if your partner does this run” will turn around and do the same thing to a stranger online they dont even know and they don’t even think twice - it’s abuse, it’s harassment… just stop it

[bogleech]

It’s also now expected and encouraged for all disagreement and criticism to be public, but that’s literally the scary hostile choice. That’s what can escalate into a shit storm out of both people’s control. I get called a creep now for sending disagreements to private message when that is literally the safer more respectful option and what you were always supposed to do. You save the callouts for the last resort when someone rejects any friendly resolution and is actually causing a problem.

[firesidoni]

(Tags via @biggest-gaudiest-patronuses )

[librarianproblems]

“Librarians are like bartenders for the daytime.” - William Ottens, Librarian Tales

[i-will-help-you-swim]

Reblog if you think asexuality is a legitimate sexuality.

I'm trying to prove something.

[cmoon-rabbit4-blog]

Reblog if your blog is a safe place for asexuals.

[loumandliker]

the twitter communists currently are getting mad because some random undergrads made an edible burrito tape bc they should instead be doing medical research

[loumandliker]

i had to work hard to make sure the similarly corrosive take of “only few people in the world make their own food” also fit in the screenshot

[loumandliker]

lest y’all think i was making up a conversation that wasn’t in the op the comments are all like this

[loumandliker]

btw the vaccine in question is a cancer treatment (ie. not a preventative/immunization) similar to another one already also used in the US and is currently undergoing clinical trials in the US.

[juliathefacesofevil]

[yeet--haw]

[headspace-hotel]

"People not understanding that scientists are not interchangeable" never gets old

[pratchettquotes]

"Good heavens, potatoes are worth more than gold!"

"Surely not!"

"If you were shipwrecked on a desert island, what would you prefer, a bag of potatoes or a bag of gold?"

"Yes, but a desert island isn't Ankh-Morpork!"

"And that proves gold is only valuable because we agree it is, right? It's just a dream. But a potato is always worth a potato, anywhere. Add a knob of butter and a pinch of salt and you've got a meal, anywhere. Bury gold in the ground and you'll be worrying about thieves forever. Bury a potato and in due season you could be looking at a dividend of a thousand percent."

Terry Pratchett, Making Money

[what-even-is-thiss]

The reason that the movie is never the same as the book is that books and movies are fundamentally different mediums.

In books you can do almost anything you want as long as it’s entertaining and take as long or as short of a time as you want to do it.

In a movie you have one to three hours. Three acts. Setup, middle, conclusion. That’s it. It’s a lot more limited than a book and if you structured a movie like it was a book and included everything from the book nobody would watch it.

[what-even-is-thiss]

I still think of that post I saw years ago asking why movies don’t just use the books as scripts and good lord that is just… the worst idea. It’s just bad. It’s bad. A novel is not a screenplay. Do not. No. Do not.

[what-even-is-thiss]

I’ve got this theory that this is why movies are occasionally better than their books. Because sometimes pov characters are really annoying. So when you can’t hear what’s going on in their heads anymore it vastly improves the story.

[seawitchkaraoke]

absolutely agree. Also a lot of the time, people think they want the adaptation to be super faithful but.... that’s not actually what works. Take the Lord of the Rings movies, they’re almost universally loved by Tolkien fans. Sure there’s a few purists who are mad about certain characters being changed around too much (usually Faramir) but mostly? Everyone is pretty happy! Many people would even say they’re really faithful to the books! Except.... they made a ton of changes! Faramir isn’t the only one who’s character is drastically different, Elrond, Aragorn, Boromir, Legolas, Gimli.... they all got changed A LOT and yet.... hardly anyone ever complains.

Because you don’t actually need to be perfectly faithful and perfectly accurate. What you need is understand the core of the story the book is telling and be faithful to that, understand why people like the book and translate that.

[what-even-is-thiss]

Yeah the movie or tv show is bad when they miss the heart of the story.

[chaoticgoodtwin]

One of the big reasons that I think people get mad about film adaptations is that reading in and of itself is an act of adaptation. And it can be shocking or even off-putting when someone else’s vision of a story doesn’t line up with what was happening in your head.

[lowkeyed1]

[iam93percentstardust]

Happy birthday month!!! I hope it's a good birthday (and that your grad school and research stuff is going well!). I absolutely loved your a king for Christmas. I saw you were asking for prompts, so what about something a little reverse. What about Tony as a prince and Steve as his loyal knight/bodyguard?

Thanks for the birthday wishes! My research is going as well as can be expected, but that's a whole other story. Talking about this story, this was an absolute delight to write, and I hope you enjoy it!

Fic can be found on ao3 here and be sure to watch out for the cut

~

Steve gives Tony daisies.

And it’s… nice.

Tony’s suitors send him roses and exotic orchids and genetically modified blossoms that bloom in impossible colors no one could ever hope to find in nature. His mother makes sure there’s always a fresh bouquet of irises in his room—they usually come from her own garden, but he still doesn’t know how she manages to find them even in the middle of winter.

And Steve… Steve gives him daisies.

And it isn’t as though Steve gives him daisies every day, only when he can manage to drag Tony out of his workshop and into the palace gardens because “the sunlight will do you some good, Your Highness” where he picks the daisies from the flowerbeds the gardeners work so hard on and offers them to Tony. It isn’t as though Steve is one of his suitors either, no matter how much Tony wishes he was.

Steve is his First Knight, the boy who rose to knighthood before Tony was even born, guarding his Aunt Peggy before she entrusted Tony to him on his fourteenth birthday. Steve is the man who has watched over him for five years, protecting him from those who would hurt him. Steve is the knight who tucked Tony into his own jacket as he led him out of the hotel room Ty had left him in, naked and bleeding, and the knight who hunted Ty down and made sure every single one of the pictures he took of Tony that night were deleted before handing him over to Fury’s spies.

Steve is the man Tony loves.

And Steve gives him daisies “because they make you smile.” Tony never tells him that they make him smile because Steve is the one who gives them to him.

The thing is… he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know if Steve looks at him and still sees the boy he used to chase through the secret passages in Aunt Peggy’s manor when he spent his summers with the retired spymaster. He doesn’t know if he’s imagining the heated looks Steve gives him when he stalks into Tony’s room just before noon to drag him from his bed or if he’s just frustrated that Tony spent most of the night in his workshop again. He doesn’t know if the daisies mean anything. And because he doesn’t know, he doesn’t ask.

He's only fearless when it doesn’t matter. When he can throw himself at Sunset and know that she’ll never turn him away. When he can ask to suck off the boy he met in the club because he knows he’ll never see him again. When he can accept the warm comfort Lord Storm offers and know it’ll never last longer than a few nights because Storm has his eye on May’s nephew.

Steve matters. More than anything, Steve matters. Sometimes, Tony thinks that Steve is the only thing that matters. More than his crown, more than the things he creates, more than the throne he’ll one day sit upon.

But Steve is also his guard. And Tony won’t ask him to give more than he can. There are many things that he won’t hesitate to do, but that isn’t one of them. He won’t risk losing Steve just because he couldn’t keep his desires to himself.

He looks down at the bouquet that’s just been gifted to him—daisies, and he wonders dully who told—and then back up at the boy shifting nervously in front of him. He can’t remember the boy’s name—something starting with an M, he thinks.

“Do you like them?” the boy asks, and he is a boy, younger than Tony, not that that’s saying much. Tony himself is only a year past his eighteenth, old enough now to become king if not for the outdated law that says he must be wedded first. “I was told they’re your favorite.” His eyes shift to the Queen Regent behind Tony, who has his answer then. He’d wondered when Maria would start helping the suitors she liked.

“They’re fine,” he lies and feels Steve shift just behind him.

The boy looks disappointed like he knows that Tony is being less than truthful with him, but what else can Tony tell him? He can’t gush over them; he’s been advised over and over again by the spymaster that he can’t show favor to any one of his suitors this early in the game, no matter what his mother thinks. Even if he could, he wouldn’t want to, not when none of them are Steve. But neither can he flatly tell him that he can’t stand the gift. He can’t alienate any of the crown’s supporters when he hasn’t taken the throne yet, and beyond that, telling the boy that he doesn’t like the flowers when he knows that Steve knows he does would show his hand.

“Happy?” he calls. His manservant steps forward, accepting the bouquet Tony shoves in his direction. “Can you have these placed in my rooms?”

There. That should make the boy happier, at least. No reason for him (or Maria, for that matter) to know that when he says to have them placed in his rooms, he really means in the depths of the deepest closet in the suite, where Tony never has to see them.

“Tony,” the boy starts to say, and Tony can’t keep his nostrils from flaring. He may not be king (yet, his mind adds), but he deserves more respect than to be called by his given name by a suitor who’s done little more than given him a few flowers he wouldn’t have even picked himself.

“Your Highness,” Steve says loudly, and the boy flushes bright red.

“Right, yes, of course, Your Highness, I was—”

But Steve, it seems, was not speaking to correct the boy. Or, at least, not only to correct him. He steps forward and says, low enough for Tony to shiver at the hint of intimacy, loud enough for the boy to hear him, “You have a meeting with Fury this afternoon. You wanted me to remind you. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten.”

His voice, teasing and warm, brings goosebumps to Tony’s arm, thankfully covered by his suit jacket. Truthfully, Tony had forgotten because he racks his brain now and can’t remember a single instance where he and Fury agreed to meet this afternoon. In fact, insofar as he can remember, they’ve never once agreed to meet; Fury’s just shown up at his door, and Tony had always agreed to hear out whatever he had to say. But he can recognize the ploy for what it is, so he nods anyway.

“Thank you, Sir Rogers,” he says politely and looks back at the boy. “You’ll have to excuse me. I have another engagement this afternoon.”

“Tony—” his mother begins though she makes no move to stop him as he leaves through one of the doors off to the side of the dais. This suitor must be a favorite of hers. It doesn’t matter whether he is or not. Tony extracted promises from both his parents before Howard passed that he would be allowed to choose his own consort. Maria can have favorites, she can try to advise him on his choice, but it is, ultimately, still his to make. He can dismiss her preferred suitors as he sees fit. He won’t be able to play the game this way forever, not when he has to ascend the throne, but he still has time to moon after his golden-haired knight before he has to choose someone else.

He wanders aimlessly through the palace, knowing that if he really does have a meeting he’s forgotten about (always possible; he’s absent-minded at the best of times), Steve will remind him of it. But Steve keeps his mouth shut, confirming Tony’s suspicions that there was never any meeting between him and Fury, only Steve conspiring to keep Tony from lashing out at his latest suitor.

Before long, he finds himself in the garden. For a moment, he’s surprised; the workshop is his usual comfort place where he goes when he needs to hide. But perhaps, it’s not so surprising after all since he has daisies on the brain.

He slumps onto one of the benches lining the pathways that wend their way through the gardens. He knows, if he could look at the garden the way a bird does, he would see that the paths form a miniature labyrinth with statues of the gods at each dead-end and at the center of it all, the Mother herself, watching the country she took as her own centuries ago.

“So,” Steve says eventually, still standing. Tony should feel like he’s looming—everyone else makes him feel that way—but all he feels is protected, cherished, loved, the way Steve has always made him feel, even before he was his knight, even if it’s not in the way he desperately wants. “So which was the lie?”

“What?” Tony asks, suddenly weary. Eighty-seven. That’s how many suitors they’ve paraded in front of him since he turned eighteen just barely over a year ago. Sometimes, he wonders if there’s even anyone eligible left for him to meet or if they’ll start reintroducing him to people he met last year.

“The daisies, Tony,” Steve says, an odd note in his voice. Tony tips his head back to look at him but the sun is right behind Steve, lighting him with a warm glow that makes it impossible to see his face. “Either they’re your favorite or you despise them. Which is it?”

It’s hurt, Tony suddenly realizes. Steve’s hurt about Tony lying, though he can’t imagine why.

It’s that realization—and the sudden flutter of hope it brings with it—that makes him blurt out, “I like them when you give them to me.”

And then he immediately shuts his mouth because that’s too much, that’s too honest, that’s more than he ever wanted to admit. Steve doesn’t—doesn’t need to know all that, doesn’t need to know about the hopeless crush Tony’s had on him since before he knew what a crush even was or about every single dried daisy Tony’s pressed between the pages of the books in his personal library.

Except…

Except Steve is smiling at him—a small, barely-there smile, but a smile nonetheless.

“What?” Tony asks, irritated that he gave so much away without meaning to.

“If I gave you a daisy right now,” Steve begins and then waits for Tony to finish the sentence.

Tony bites his lip. He could deny it. Steve is giving him an out here; he could take it if he wanted to. And a part of him wants to. He’s kept this secret for so long that just giving it away feels terrifying. But a larger part of him wants to tell him the truth. In for a penny, in for a pound, right? That’s what Aunt Peggy always told him.

“If you’re making fun of me,” he warns.

“I would never,” Steve replies, which is a lie. Steve makes fun of him all the time—for his bedhead when he wakes up, for the grease stains he gets on his clothing, for the childish rivalry he still has with Lord Richards even though they’ve both tried at different times to make nice with each other. But—he doesn’t laugh at him about the big things. He doesn’t laugh about the plans Tony has for the kingdom, the ones he’s only ever whispered to Steve when Steve is carrying him, tired and drunk, to his rooms. He doesn’t laugh about the wish Tony confessed to him once that he might be allowed to marry for love. He doesn’t laugh about the fact that Tony wants his first ruling to be to overturn the marriage law.

“I would take them,” Tony confesses.

“Only take them?” There’s something in Steve’s voice, something that Tony thinks he should be able to identify, but he can’t. He looks down at his hands in his laps—they’re rough and calloused, not what anyone would expect from the hands of a king, but Tony learned statesmanship at his father’s knee, and the best lessons taught to him were the ones he learned in Howard’s workshop.

“Cherish them,” he amends, voice barely above a whisper. Steve’s breath hitches.

This is it, he knows. This is the moment Steve will walk away and leave him.

There’s a soft, muffled thump rather than the sound of Steve’s footsteps on the stone path walking away from him, and Tony can’t resist looking up even knowing how much it’ll hurt to see Steve turned away from him. But Steve isn’t turned away. He’s dropped to his knees only a few inches away from him—that thump must have been his knees hitting the ground—an open, heartbreakingly hopeful expression on his face.

“Tony,” he breathes, low and awed. For as long as Tony’s known him, he’s never once heard Steve sound like that, and it makes his heart leap into his throat. “My prince.”

Heat floods through Tony’s body. Steve’s never called him that before. It’s always been his name or Your Highness. But to be his prince—to be called Steve’s. He whines before he can stop himself.

Steve takes one of his hands and brings it to his lips, brushing a featherlight kiss across the back. Tony’s heart skips a beat before kicking itself into overdrive.

“I give you daisies,” Steve says, “because they make you smile. I would give you roses if that was what you wanted or wildflowers or whatever you asked for if it meant you would smile at me.”

Tony swallows hard before managing, “And if all I wanted was you?”

Steve picks up his other hand and kisses the back of that one too. “I would gladly give myself to you.”

Tony all but throws himself off the bench, tumbling into Steve’s lap. Steve drops Tony’s hands to slide one hand around Tony’s waist and pull him in closer, his other carding through Tony’s hair.

“I would have killed them all for even looking at you if you’d asked me to,” Steve murmurs into Tony’s hair, and he shouldn’t be so thrilled that Steve would have killed his unwanted suitors, but he is.

He tips his head back, Steve’s fingers tightening in the short hairs at his nape, and says, “I want you to kiss me.”

Steve’s eyes light up. “I can do that for you too.”

He bends his head, pausing just above Tony’s waiting mouth. His breath feathers across Tony’s lips, sending shivers shooting through him. “You want this,” he says hesitantly, somewhere between a statement and a question.

“I’ve always wanted this,” Tony tells him, knowing exactly how Steve feels right now—hesitant and unsure if this is really happening or just another wonderful—heartbreaking—dream. “Steve, my knight, my protector, kiss me.”

“Anything,” Steve whispers and kisses him. For a moment, it’s achingly gentle, a brush of their lips against each other. Then Steve uses the grip he has on Tony’s hair to angle his head just the way he wants it, and he moves him so that his legs are spread wide over Steve’s lap, and his tongue slides into Tony’s mouth when it parts on a gasp, and Tony can suddenly feel it. He can feel the kiss in his mouth and his tongue and in the way his heart races and his hands tighten in Steve’s shirt and Steve holds him like he’s something precious.

“I want you,” he gasps when they break apart.

Steve kisses his neck, his earlobe, the curve of his shoulder. “You have me,” he replies. “You will always have me.”

Tony lets out another whine, unable to stop his brain imagining what his life would be like with Steve at his side, not as his knight, but as his consort. It’s a bright future, one that he wants desperately. Let’s just start with tonight, he tells himself firmly, already thinking about the ring he’ll put on Steve’s finger—the one that he will design and fabricate.

Steve’s hand leaves his waist for a second, but Tony feels it a second later on the side of his head, tucking his unruly curls behind his ear and leaving something behind. “There,” he says, eyes soft and adoring as he looks at him. “Perfect.”

Tony reaches up. There, holding his hair back, he feels the familiar outline of a daisy.

[misscryptidart]

What if Batman Villain’s were the cool kind of criminals and Batman was the cool kind of vigilante that lets certain things slide and Jim Gordon was allowed to be the cool grandpa he was meant to be. 

[wheeloffortune-design]

CONTROVERSIAL OPINION ABOUT BISEXUALITY

that purple in the middle is not the right saturation, it doesn't fit with the other two colors and it drives me crazy.

[deus-ex-aquila]

all right, I think I got this, I've got dual citizenship and I have another flag we can borrow from:

step 1

step 2

step 3

[varangianviper]

[wheeloffortune-design]

This is true bi/ace solidarity.

[xthehatchick]

holy shit

[nmri]

the only reason cops are at pride now is to intimidate gay people into not making it a riot again and i will stand by that fact until the day i die

[vaguelyconcernedtriangle]

If the occasion should arise and I attend a pride festival, I would also like it to not become a riot.

[nmri]

imagine being this guy

arent they there? to stop any attacks from the anti lgbt groups?? yknow the ones that ALWAYS gather there???

[nmri]

contrary to what this newer generation of lgbt people think, cops are a new addition to prides. only within the past 10/20 years have they actually started “protecting” pride. aka standing around and intimidating the general public. historically, lgbt people have protected ourselves and eachother during pride events. from police in a lot of cases actually. ive been to pride events where the anti lgbt protesters were the ones being “protected” from the pride crowd… the cops arent there for us. theyre there to boost the image of the police force and make us think they care. the only people who feel safe around cops are the classes that they are meant to protect and people who are uneducated about police. (theres a heavy overlap as well.)  you may feel safe around cops but many people do not. theyre literally dogs to the upper class. 

2018 Baltimore pride was crashed by terfs who marched with the cops. pigs protected them.

In hamilton ontario the cops let neo nazis attack people and said they didnt help because people didnt want them there

[themintycupcake]

I was at NYC Pride a couple of years ago and a massive section of the main route was completely dedicated to cops. The sight of a prison bus driving by with rainbow flags on it made me sick. That was the year that Toronto Pride asked the police not to bring guns to pride. And so the NYPD invited them to our parade, marching through and proudly brandishing their guns. Back at the Stonewall Inn, people who were protesting the commercialization of Pride were beaten by police. I used to buy some of what the commenters above are saying about protection, but after seeing all of that Pride needs to be anti cop.

[fucktheflagandfuckyou]

they literally just showed up and arrested pride participants like a handful of days ago after being told they weren’t welcome

[hedgewitchcat]

[Image description: The image right before the above link is of the linked article. It’s a Vice News article titled, “Cops Were Banned from NYC Pride. They Showed Up With Riot Gear.” The subtitle says, “Eight people were arrested on Sunday after skirmishes between the New York Police Department and people celebrating Pride in New York City.” The article has a photo of cops harassing civilians. One cop is pulling the arm of a pride attendee while other attendees try to stop him. Another cop has cuffed someone on the ground. End ID.]

[alexseanchai]

what do y'all pro-cops-at-Pride people think the zeroth Pride, the Stonewall Riots, were about?

spoilers: it was police brutality against the queer community

[qunari]

and in any case, do y'all know who does the ACTUAL protecting against hate groups at these events? at my first pride over a decade ago, it was butches. it was trans people and bears and quite a few leather folks. it was volunteers who stood on that line and made themselves barriers between us and those that came to protest and hate us, because nobody else was going to do it, and that year the protesters outnumbered the attendees.

and as of the last pride i attended a few years ago in the same city, do you know who stood in the dead center, away entirely from protesters and violent people, openly brandishing RIFLES? it was the fucking cops.

your local butch will keep you twice as safe as a cop will, if the cops aren’t the very ones making it unsafe in the first place.

[blancabitchcraft]

[mornington-the-crescent]

[ach-seal-beag-gearr-deactivated]

*vibrating* it’s the cowboy witch poem it’s the cowboy witch poem it’s the cowboy witch poem

[sisyphusshrugged]

everybody gangsta til that which was once prophesized comes to pass