Master doc that contains different resources and support for many countries including Palestine, Congo, Haiti, Hawai’i, etc ((op is underneath the link))
[ID: Tweet by Nanu's eyebrows 🇹🇹❤️🔱… @ Seaweedlagoon which reads: "I'd appreciate if you guys would spread around my master document that not only contains support for Palestine but other countries as well, I'm updating it with resources for Puerto Rico, Lebanon and Trinidad and Tobago tomorrow!" With a link to the above doc/End ID]
time loop with two people in it but one person refuses to acknowledge the loop and pretends to be looping with everyone else. meanwhile the other person is freaking out
the most important thing to me ever is bi kids knowing that it’s ok to be 10% attracted to women and 90% attracted to men or 10% attracted to men and 90% attracted to women and still feeling ok to identify as bi, and still feeling like their identity is valid, and still feeling like they can lead fulfilling lives with both (or other) genders. like that’s just so fricking important.
it’s also important to remember that it can be a fluid % like sometimes it’ll be 50/50 some times 10/90 and then drift into a 45/65 or even 2/98 and it’s still okay. It’s just where you are at that time in your life.
It’s also important for them to know that bisexuality is not binary & never has been. You can be attracted to any gender, & still be bisexual. You can be attracted to someone regardless of their gender & still be bisexual. Oh & being bisexual isn’t about who you date. It’s about who/what you’re attracted to.
"Vanderhorst had been under the influence of MDMA and three litres of vodka she had consumed on the night of the offence last September, her lawyer Michael Hill told the court."
In 2026, the chicest thing a gay actor can do is never explicitly come out as gay but also make it abundantly clear that he is. Coming out is too modern. Staying closeted is too old fashioned. But this method merges contemporary freedom with Old Hollywood glamour and allure, and it weeds out the dumbest people who truly don’t get it. I call it the Pascal Method.
You clearly don't go here or to queer history and signaling, or both, enough to have this conversation and I'm not going to explain it to you. You could have asked questions, you could have done even a modicum of research. You didn't and you made yourself look ignorant. Goodbye.
#I'm fucking crying#this is an instant classic#this is the next meme#i can't believe I'm here to see a baby copypasta nary two hours old#I can't#lol#i laughed way too hard#iconic
Remember when joining fandom as a younger person meant lurking for a bit and figuring out the vibe and etiquette instead of coming in on day one and calling people weirdos for liking weirdo shit in the weirdo factory.
A.N: Hi my loves! 🩷 Thank you so so much for your wonderful support, you've made me so happy! 🩷I hope you'll like this one as well, and please let me know what you think🩷 ILYSM, kisses! 🩷
Pairing: Robb Stark x F!Reader
Summary: Rumors can cause jealousy.
Word Count: 4,7k
Warnings: Explicit language, adult themes, suggestive themes. MDNI- Do not read if you're under 18.
Series Masterlist
Back in the Reach, when Lady Olenna hired that lady of the night to tutor you and Margaery on marital acts and what husbands liked, she had assured both of you that unlike what everyone around you kept telling you, your name, your family’s wealth, any heirs you’d have with your future husband; none of that was a guarantee that he would fall in love with you.
According to her, it was all about how mesmerizing you would be, and your marital bed was the key. That night, while you and Margaery laid in the bed trying to silence your giggles so as not to wake Loras again and get a scolding, you had both agreed that it was exaggeration; surely it couldn’t have been the case for everyone.
But judging by Robb’s reaction after what you had done last night, you were beginning to believe that lady.
“My maid will be here any moment!” you said as you pushed him gently, making him walk backward to the door. “I must get ready for breakfast—we already overslept!”
He grabbed your wrist and in a blink, you had your back against the wall, a giggle escaping you.
“Robb!”
“Dismiss her when she comes.”
“And what of my ladies-in-waiting?”
He grinned at you. “Dismiss them too.”
“That would be rude!”
“Fine, I’ll dismiss all of them—”
“You’ll do no such thing!” you exclaimed, the look of shock on your face coaxing a chuckle out of him as he cupped your face in his palm, your heart skipping a happy beat.
Gods, he looked irresistible.
He had put on his breeches, but his white linen shirt was half open, letting you peek at his chiseled chest. His curly hair was tousled thanks to last night’s—and this morning’s—activities, and there was a mischievous light gleaming in his eyes as he looked at you, tracing the line of your bottom lip.
You frowned, willing yourself to focus.
“I don’t suppose anyone has told you this,” you said, sticking your nose in the air, “but a lady needs her own time to get ready to be seen in public.”
“A lady or my lady?”
A smile curled your lips before you could stop it, and you pointed in the direction of the door, making him whine.
“I’ve been away from you for a week!”
You shrugged your shoulders, feigning nonchalance as if you weren’t currently battling yourself not to drag him back to bed. “That was of your own making.”
“That, my sweet wife, is a cruel lie,” he murmured, leaning to brush his lips against yours. A pleasant sigh left you, the familiar warmth blooming in your lower stomach, your mind going blank once again as it always did whenever Robb kissed you. Your body moved at its own accord; you threw your arms over his broad shoulders so that you could pull him closer, ready to lose yourself in his arms but a knock on the door snapped you out of it and made you pull back. Robb blindly chased your lips as you pressed a hand on his chest to push him back again, turning your head.
“Just a moment!”
You went under Robb’s arm to get away from him, whirling on your heels before you stepped back, clasping your hands behind you with a grin. He raised his brows like he was warning you.
“Do not—” he started, but before he could finish his sentence, you had already swung the door open to beam at your maid. She was a sweet girl, only a couple years younger than you. Just like the other northerners you had met, she wasn’t very fond of sharing too much, nor did she jump at the opportunity to gossip unlike what you were used to back in the Reach, but you were certain you were going to be friends soon enough.
“Good morrow Kyra!” you chirped. “My lord husband was just leaving, you may come in.”
Kyra stepped in and curtsied.
“M’lord. M’lady.”
Your grin widened at the look of utter betrayal on Robb’s face. “I shall see you at breakfast, my husband.”
“And I shall see you, my wife,” he said, kissing your temple as he walked past you and left the room. You turned to Kyra, looking down to pretend to fix the silky skirt of your nightgown.
“Kyra, would you mind telling the maids to draw me a bath?” you asked. “And I’d really appreciate it if you could help me take off my necklace, thank you.”
With the King and his court arriving next week, Lady Stark was busy beyond words. She had to foresee anything and everything about their visit, and while you had been following her like her shadow to learn and help out if needed, you also had your own duties.
While the preparations were being made for the feasts upon the King’s arrival, Wintertown could not be expected to put everything on hold, especially with the arrival of autumn. Thus, you and your ladies were tasked with preparing certain supplies for the smallfolk. The baskets mostly consisted of blankets and food, and while back in the south your father had certain people responsible for overseeing such help, in the north, it fell upon Lady Stark—and per her request, you.
You would’ve been lying if you said it didn’t surprise you, but you figured it was just one of the many differences between the south and the north.
Everyone did something here, regardless of who they were.
Your ladies-in-waiting were already in the granary, and you had every intention to go join them when you stepped out into the yard after having a short conversation with Lady Stark, but you stopped dead in your tracks when you caught the sight of Theon sparring with Jon while Bran watched them and Robb sat beside him, no doubt having just finished sparring with either of them. You could feel your heart skip a happy beat as you stole a look in the direction of the granary, but the urge to be with Robb—fleeting as it would be, for mere minutes—overcame your hesitation. You made your way to him, a smile twitching his lips the moment you entered his sight and sat beside him.
“Hello,” you said. “I figured I could take some fresh air before I went inside, I hope you don’t mind?”
“Of course not,” he said quickly while Bran waved at you, still quite shy. You gave him a warm smile, both your and his attention turning to Jon when he blocked Theon’s strike with his sword, pushing him hard enough to make him stumble back.
“But will it happen?” Bran insisted while you rested your head on Robb’s shoulder and he pressed his lips on top of your head, sneaking an arm around your waist to subtly pull you closer. Jon rolled his eyes.
“Of course not, Bran.”
“You never know,” Theon sang and Bran huffed.
“Even if father says so?”
“Father won’t say so.”
“He said so to Robb.”
“He asked me,” Robb corrected him, “it’s not the same thing.”
“What are we talking about?” you asked and Bran turned to you with a scowl on his face.
“Jon getting wed.”
“I’m not getting wed.”
“Silas said he was the one who approved Robb,” Bran said. “And if Robb had to approve your future lady…”
Robb let out a scoff. “I don’t think that falls on me.”
“There’s usually more things to consider than your older brother approving someone,” you pointed out. “Silas saying that isn’t the whole truth.”
“But Jon, would you have to wed Ser Tallhart’s daughter if father said so?”
You bit back a laugh at the exasperation on Jon’s face. While you didn’t know the details of how he and Silas separated, it was quite obvious that Jon’s attention wouldn’t belong to anyone else for a long time, judging by how sulky he had been since your brother left. As much as you wanted him to share his feelings with you, you figured he didn’t want you or anyone else to know, so you had to keep your silence despite seeing his sadness.
Perhaps you could imply you would keep his secret, but you would have to earn his trust for that.
“Ser Tallhart’s daughter?” you asked, making Theon let out a laugh.
“I doubt that’ll happen, Bran.”
“But!” Bran insisted. “But listen. Silas approved Robb, right? And you already said, about Ser Tallhart’s daughter, that Robb approved.”
Robb made a face. “I didn’t say I approved.”
“But Theon said that you called her pleasant and said southern girls and northern girls are different,” Bran said, making your head shoot up from Robb’s shoulder. “You approved, and Jon doesn’t have a southern betrothed, and...”
The look of panic that settled on all three men would’ve been funny if it weren’t for the fury crashing down on you. Theon and Jon stopped sparring as if someone had just barked an order at them, and Robb’s eyes widened as he stared at Bran at a loss for words. Bran seemed oblivious to their reactions, ranting about how Jon couldn’t wed because that’d mean he’d see him less like Robb, while you tried your hardest to keep your expression calm, considering you were in public.
Ser Tallhart’s daughter, was it?
“…Ah,” you said and arched a brow at Robb, an overly sweet smile curling your lips. “Is that what Robb said?”
One simple observer would’ve thought Robb was being accused of treason with the way he shook his head vigorously.
“That’s not what I—Bran, you make it sound very different than what actually took place.”
“But Theon and Jon were saying—”
“I said nothing.”
“I’m not involved in this conversation.” Theon and Jon spoke at the same time, desperate to absolve themselves of any crime but Robb wasn’t so lucky and by the looks of it, he knew it.
“I just said for—for Jon, she looked pleasant.” He waved a hand in Jon’s direction without even sparing him a glance while you tilted your head, still smiling. “For Jon only. I wasn’t even—”
“My lady?” Alys’ voice reached you, making you look over your shoulder. “Maester Luwin says we may start if you’re ready.”
“Of course,” you said as if your stomach wasn’t churning, the familiar ache whenever you were nervous back in its full strength. You got up from the bench to follow Alys, leaving Robb dumbfounded but he snapped out of it before you could reach the granary and caught up with you.
“Wait—”
“I cannot,” you said airily without a glance at him, “I have things to do.”
“That sounded wrong, back there.” He stepped in front of you to block your path, making you narrow your eyes. “I didn’t call her—I did call her pleasant, but only because I was trying to encourage Jon. He’s been sulkier than usual, and Theon thinks it’s because he didn’t like any southern girls at our wedding.”
“And one look at Theon makes you think of wisdom?”
“No,” he admitted after a beat. “Not really. But what else could be the reason?”
Your brother was the reason, but it wasn’t like you could tell Robb that. Besides, that wasn’t the point, you were not going to stand here and get into an argument where the whole yard could see, you were way too trained for that. Jealousy was not mesmerizing, most of the time it held the opposite effect. Lady Olenna used to say that the more a lady looked bothered, the more her influence slipped away. Grasping too tightly would signal to the court that you were insecure, and insecurity was unbecoming of a lady.
Which meant that even though it took every ounce of control in you, you couldn’t appear angry.
“I don’t find anyone more pleasant than you,” Robb added, almost breathless. “My lady, surely you must know that.”
You could swear the words you were not supposed to say were clawing at your throat, but you took a deep breath and forced yourself to smile.
“Alright.”
Robb pulled back slightly, his eyes darting over your face.
“…Alright?”
“Yes,” you said, your voice holding no trace of grudge unlike your heart. “And if you’ll excuse me, I must be going now.”
“But—” He stopped you, holding your arm before you could turn around. “But we’re alright?”
As much as you wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake him, that also would appear very unladylike, so you nodded your head instead.
“Of course,” you chirped. “How selfless of you to assess and compare ladies for Jon, I’m certain he’s grateful.”
“See, that comment right there doesn’t assure me that we’re alright—”
“And though I’d love to hear about the differences between southern and northern ladies, I really must be going now,” you cut him off, pulling your arm out of his grip. “Have a good day, my lord.”
With that, you walked away from him, anger still pulsing in your temples.
Who even was Ser Tallhart’s daughter? No one had told you anything about her.
There was no wonder your ladies-in-waiting would know about her, seeing that they had likely crossed paths at a wedding or a feast. If you were back home, you could’ve asked your friends, but here in Winterfell you had to be more careful than that.
Any wrong question could lead to many speculations.
Not to mention, you still didn’t trust them. Alys, Wylla and Lyra seemed rather sweet, but when it came to Jorelle and Barbrey, you were still very cautious. Barbrey was going to have to work hard to prove her loyalty to you, and Jorelle…
Well.
You weren’t certain that you could ever lower your guard with her.
It wasn’t even about her at this point, it was more about her family. You knew very well that at any given moment, her family would push her forward if they knew they could undermine you, Lady Cerwyn’s condescending manners were a proof of it. Not only that, the whole North would support them, as they were already fond of Jorelle and her family.
Your family, however, were outsiders to the north, and no matter how much help they would send when the winter came, northerners didn’t trust or like outsiders.
You were pulled away from your thoughts when Wylla spoke.
“That’s a very beautiful necklace.”
Your head snapped up, and you willed a lovesick smile on your face despite the storm in your head.
“Aw thank you,” you said, dipping the spoon into the salt bag to pour some of it into the small container before you walked to place it in a basket. “Robb kindly brought me a gift from Torrhen’s Square.”
Alys and Barbrey exchanged smirks while Lyra and Jorelle folded the blankets to put into the rest of the empty baskets.
“Do you know…” you trailed off, nibbling on your lip. “Have any of you been to Torrhen’s Square before?”
Jorelle lifted her head for only a moment before she returned her attention to the blankets, clearly deciding against whatever she was going to say. Alys nodded her head.
“I have, once.”
“I don’t think I’ve met House Tallhart,” you mused. “I’ve heard high praises though.”
“Did Gilliane come to the wedding?” Lyra asked and you turned your head.
“Gilliane?”
“Their oldest daughter, my lady,” Wylla said. “And no, she didn’t.”
“I think only Erena came,” Alys said. “I’m certain I caught a glimpse of her—her younger sister.”
“I’ve met too many people to count at the wedding, I’m afraid,” you said. “Perhaps I met them and don’t remember it.”
“Erena is very sweet, Gilliane however…”
“Lyra,” Alys warned her and she held up her hands.
“I said nothing.”
You tilted your head. “Oh, now I must know.”
Barbrey grinned. “Gilliane is very emotional.”
“It’s no crime against the king to be emotional!” Alys insisted while Lyra made a face.
“It should be.”
Jorelle bit back her smile.
“Gilliane gets affected by anything and everything,” she told you. “A bit of a crier.”
“And she falls in love with someone different at every Harvest Feast,” Wylla added and fixed her hair in an exaggerated manner. “And if anyone would like to ask me why she didn’t come to the wedding, I have the answer.”
“How?”
“One of her brothers holds affections for me, and he’s a gossip.”
Alys’ jaw dropped. “Which brother?”
“Benton.” Wylla reached out to grab an apple to take a bite, coaxing a laugh out of you while Lyra narrowed her eyes.
“Have you started living in Wintertown and we don’t know about it?”
“It’s just one apple!”
“Don’t let Maester Luwin see you,” Jorelle said and Wylla shrugged her shoulders.
“I am famished, would he rather if I fainted?”
“That is a very sound logic I admit,” you teased them and Wylla gestured at you.
“See?”
“But in return, we hear why she didn’t come to the wedding,” you added, plopping down on the nearest chair and cracking your neck with a grimace. “Sounds interesting.”
“Alright, so…” Wylla jumped to sit on the table. “Benton says she was heartbroken.”
“That’s no news, she gets heartbroken whenever someone looks at her wrong.”
“Jo!”
“Am I lying?”
“No wonder she and I can’t get along well, she has too many feelings for my taste,” Lyra mused and Alys pressed her fist on her lips in an attempt to hide her smile. Barbrey leaned in.
“Who was she heartbroken over?”
“And that’s what is so interesting about it,” Wylla said and turned to you. “Don’t misunderstand this, because I would know if there was anything between them, but…”
You pulled back, your mouth half agape. “Robb?”
The whole room erupted into chaos.
“Wylla!”
“Have they even spoken to each other before?”
“I have never ever seen them exchange words in any wedding or feast.”
“Yeah, Benton says the same. She was admiring him from afar, pushed her father to make an offer of betrothal, but…”
Well, if that was the pleasant girl, at least now you knew she was no real threat to your position or your heart.
“A lot of fathers made—” Barbrey started but Alys elbowed her, stealing a look at Jorelle whose calm face was impossible to read as usual. Lyra shrugged her shoulders.
“I’ll say it if you won’t. Everyone’s fathers made proposals.”
“Lyra, don’t say that!”
“What, like she doesn’t know?”
“I do know,” you assured them. “And I don’t mind at all. If Robb held a grudge over everyone who made a proposal to wed me, our marriage would be cold until we’re old and gray. That’s simply how such arrangements work, it makes sense that families made proposals, I could never hold grudges over that.”
At least that was what Lady Olenna would want you to say.
Untroubled and amused.
That’s what you had to appear when it came to possible former betrothals; untroubled and amused.
Even though what you felt was the complete opposite of that.
“And I don’t want any of you to guard your tongues around me,” you added in a haste, as if you yourself hadn’t been trained to guard your tongue around people since you could speak. “Not when it’s just us, at least.”
No one back in the south would believe or entertain such thought. In fact, if you and Margaery were ever told what you had just said, you both would’ve taken it as an insult to be seen so naïve, but this was the north.
And you could not seem resentful or insecure.
“Now,” you said and grabbed an apple to bite it as well. “Tell me more about this person. I have been suffering from lack of gossip ever since I came here, and I’d like to catch up.”
By dinner time, you had learned everything there was to learn about House Tallhart and their daughters, and thankfully, nothing seemed alarming.
But that didn’t mean you weren’t angry at Robb.
And although Lady Olenna would’ve advised you otherwise, you were going to make sure he knew exactly how you felt.
Lord Stark had made it much easier, albeit not on purpose. He had kept Robb with him the whole day for meetings and petitions, and you had managed to excuse yourself to your own bedchambers right after dinner before he could come back. A week away from home must have meant Lord Stark had much to catch up on, because it was nearly midnight by the time you heard Robb’s heavy gait pass your door. You raised your brows, keeping your attention on your book in your lap when the door to his bedchambers opened, then closed after a couple of complete silence. His footsteps approached your door before he opened it and peeked his head in.
“What are you doing here?”
You flipped the page without pulling your gaze off the book. “Reading.”
“Here?”
“Seems that way.”
“But…” He stepped inside. “But I’m back.”
“Hasn’t escaped me.”
“Then why are you here?”
“It’s my bedchambers,” you replied. “Why are you here?”
“I couldn’t find you in—are you still angry at me?”
“No,” you lied through your teeth. “I simply decided to sleep here tonight.”
Judging by the look on his face, you might as well have announced you meant to annul your marriage: “You’re not sleeping here tonight.”
“I am,” you said, pretending to be engrossed in your book though you barely had any idea what you were reading. “And you can sleep in your own bedchambers and think about Ser Tallhart’s daughter all you want.”
“What?” His eyes widened. “I told you, I only said that for—”
“I care not.” You pointed at the door, your gaze fixed on the page. “Leave me be.”
He lingered there for a moment as if he was trying to find the best approach, then took a step towards the bed.
“My sweet wife—” he started, but stopped dead in his tracks when you lifted your head to glare daggers at him. He swallowed thickly and cleared his throat.
“I was trying to encourage Jon.”
“I heard you the first time,” you said and closed to book to give him a snake like smile. “Now that you’re here though, how are northern girls different than southern girls? Since you are an expert, you should have no issues enlightening me?”
“That’s—” He pointed back at the door like Jon was standing outside, stumbling over his words. “I simply said, if Jon didn’t find any southern girls to his liking, northern girls might be uh—different?” The last word came out like an uncertain question. “In terms of his uh, his…affections.”
You raised your brows, still glaring at him.
“I swear it was for Jon only.”
“Wonderful,” you deadpanned. “You may leave now. Have pleasant dreams.”
A ghost of a smile twitched the corner of his mouth. “I can’t believe you’re jealou—”
“Robb if you finish that sentence, I will make you suffer in a very southern way, and then you’ll know the actual difference between northern and southern girls,” you growled, and he held up his hands, biting back his smile.
“Be angry at me if you wish,” he said, stepping closer to the bed, “but we’re not sleeping in different beds.”
“I’m not coming there, and you’re not welcomed here.”
“Oh you are coming there,” he said and before you could so much as blink, he had thrown you over his shoulder, a surprised shriek spilling from your lips.
“Put me down this instant!” you exclaimed, your voice going high-pitched while he made his way to the door. You pressed your palms on his shoulder to throw him off his balance and wiggle out of his grip, but much to your frustration, it didn’t work. “How dare you? This is actual disrespect, you—”
“You left me no other choice,” he stated, stepping out of your bedchambers into the hallway. “Whose fault is it? Not mine.”
“Put me down!”
He turned, but stopped in an instant, and though you hoped it was because he decided to listen to you, the real reason turned out to be very different. He shifted his weight and let out a curt cough like he was trying to regain his composure.
“Father.”
Oh Gods.
Oh Gods no.
Lord Stark could not see you like this, absolutely not.
“…Robb.”
Alright then, Lord Stark was indeed seeing you like this.
You shut your eyes tight, half hoping it would make both of you disappear from Lord Stark’s vision, scrunching up your face.
“Good evening, Lord Stark,” you squealed out, the angle Robb was holding you in preventing you from seeing your father-in-law, perhaps by mercy.
“My wife and I were just…” Robb started, but even you could tell he had no idea where the sentence would go. “We were uh, going to sleep.”
Well, Robb was a terrible liar, so at least you could find some solace in that for the future of your marriage, especially now that you were going to have to spend the rest of the said marriage not being able to look his father in the eye. A silence fell upon the hallway before Lord Stark heaved a sigh as if he had the realm’s weight on his shoulders, and even though you couldn’t see his face, you could picture the exasperation on his face.
“I saw nothing,” he ended up saying. “I saw nothing, and I am walking away before I see anything.”
You heard Lord Stark go past him and you watched him walk to the other end of the hallway without sparing a glance back. A whine climbed your throat and you slumped over his shoulder, hiding your face in your hands until Robb entered his—your—bedchambers and dropped you on the bed. You grabbed the nearest pillow to throw at him, your cheeks burning.
“That was very undignified, Robb!”
“He doesn’t mind.”
“He—that—” you stammered, gesturing at the door. “He saw!”
“Aye, and he doesn’t mind,” Robb said, catching the other pillow in the air. “To repeat, you gave me no other choice!”
You gritted your teeth and turned to Grey Wind who was watching you both from beside the fireplace.
“Grey Wind, up,” you commanded and he leaped on the bed, making Robb frown.
“What are you doing?”
“He will sleep between us.”
“No he won’t.”
“Yes he will,” you said and pulled the fur covers on top of you, the direwolf curling up next to you. “You can sleep on your side, or you can sleep somewhere else dreaming of Ser Tallhart’s pleasant daughter, your choice.”
“That’s a vile accusation and a terrible insult—Grey Wind, down.”
“Grey Wind, stay,” you shot back and Grey Wind let out a huff, looked between you and Robb, then yawned and nudged your arm with his snout. “See? He’s staying.”
Robb threw his head back with a groan while you pulled your pillow to yourself.
“Lamb…”
“I’m too sleepy to argue.”
“Then just listen?”
“I shall not,” you said, closing your eyes. “Goodnight.”
“But…”
“Goodnight, I said.”
Robb exhaled through his nose impatiently and moved about in the room, his heavy steps enough of a clue to what he was doing. Despite trying to control yourself, you still ended up opening an eye to watch him take off his shirt, but you shut your eyes again before he could see you gawking at him. He got under the furs, and after a couple of seconds you dared steal a peek again to find him half naked, his arm thrown over his eyes to block the candlelight, oblivious to the way your gaze followed down his chiseled body while you bit at your lip.
Oh well.
Just because you were angry at him didn’t mean you couldn’t enjoy the sight.
I hope Rian Johnson gets to make as many Benoit Blanc movies as there are Agatha Christie adaptations and more. I hope Daniel Craig gets to play the dapper, enigmatic, theater gay detective Benoit Blanc until he physically can't act anymore. And I hope that role far overshadows playing James Bond for years as his artistic legacy.
Johnson is the first writer in a long time to understand that the the serial detective archetype is a trickster spirit who takes power from the violently corrupt, and gives it to a common person who has passed his tests to prove they're good of heart and would use those resources to improve the world.
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
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.
my town in CT has an annual, family-friendly Pride In The Park event where theres stuff like drag queen story time, stalls for lgbtq artists to sell their art, face painting, etc. and it’s all very chill and friendly. literally the most tame, relaxed event ever. two years ago the banner at the front of the event was vandalized with homophobic slurs the night before the event, and the organizers decided to independently check the security cam footage before calling the cops…and guess who vandalized the banner! take a wild goddamn guess who sprayed the f slur directly over the words “kids welcome” on this community-funded sign at this community event. it was an off-duty cop from the same unit that was scheduled to show up the next day “for the event’s protection”.
