#fort freedom

[waddup-its-homegirl]

Part of me wants Kellyanne Wicker to burn and die, but part of me wants her to overcome her hatred just enough to look at the Church of the Hallowed Name and be like “there’s no Jesus here, this is a CULT cult” and then rally the troops to take it down. I feel like she could use her powers of karening for good if she put her mind to it

[who1sthelamb]

Its 8 am

[bright-thehawksflight]

Me, raised Catholic: I don't have religious trauma!

One (1) fictional fundamentalist: It's not oppression, it's just right and wrong.

Me, crying:

[waddup-its-homegirl]

Also, the fact that Kellyanne Wicker has 8 kids, like,,,,, that’s how many are in my family, lmaoooooo

[asremembered]

the time they gave me only 4 bullets for the AK-47 and strict instructions to stay on semi-automatic. No idea how it got switched to fully-.

[dearfriendletters-blog-blog]

Dear Friend #5 - Vanity

  The two honorable men of the community once again met at their beloved secret layer Fort Freedom.  King Charles is a might adversary, one that will prove a true challenge of faith and fortitude.  It was settled upon that the Sheriff and the Wizard would become the proper targets. 

 Upon riding home on his trusty horse, Nightingale, the Scribe had an epiphany.  He wrote a fine letter to the Farmer and dropped it off in great haste.  As he sped home a dark shadow was lurking close by.

 Not to far away in the Hills of Woodland The Grand Wizard Al was having a nightcap of Dragon's Blood.  The Scribe and the Farmer were not the only men of this fine community with tricks up their sleeve. 

Dear Friend (The Farmer),

  My vast knowledge has vexed me in the hopes of having a pure communication between two worthy comrades in arms such as ourselves.  I had to call upon the village idiot, Dingbat Jim, to decipher your true intentions.   I was truly wishful to focus my established vengeance upon the gorgeous King Charles.  The velvet tongue Al and the law of our community shall have to suffice in this moment of christian action.

 Upon researching the parcels located in the community's meek liberal studies hall, I believe I have discovered quite the weakness of our proposed Pagan Sheriff Allison.  It appears he has dipped his spoon into the vast bowl of vanity and it has stained his dove white soul with a spot of narcissism.

 We must feed his curious vice til it swells in his stomach and his head.  The time has come for sacrifice.  We shall call out into the night of the wives in this grand community.  Secure three large vanity mirrors and place it in the law's person.  We shall add all of our baptismal candles and light the way of lust in his perplexed heart.  His reflection shall surround him and he will be smitten with it for quite some time.

 At that precise moment we shall draw his horses away from the stable.  He shall be left with nothing but a horseless carriage.  Brilliant trickery shall be our bedfellow tonight.  Contact the women, have them put some sage near their bosom for luck and faith, and act like the wind.

 The Grand Wizard will be next.  Let us see him stand up to the magic of heaven.  Tonight we shall reign in faith.

To Fort Freedom!

Godspeed

The Scribe