#Guys that place was made by the KKK

[teewritessmth]

~~Game On, Love~~

Summary : Innocent games may just turn into something more.

(Sharky x f! reader)

Warnings : None

"Put your hands together, yeah as if you're clapping. Now close your fingers and lift the fingers of one hand only."

You do as Sharky said, confused about what he was trying to say. Within seconds, he holds both your hands and pins you to the wall. You weren't able to move either since you clasped both hands together and Sharky's hands were blocking them.

You gasp as he with comes inches within your face and you hear the boys scream and shout in the background.

Sharky gently let your hand go and pats your back in a calming gesture.

"I'm sorry Y/n, the boys dared me to do this. I'm filming another control my life for 24 hours challenge".

"I made him do an hour worth of sit-ups, but man what Chunkz made him do right now is craaazy" Kenny laughed.

"My boy finally did it, kinda thought you'd back out last minute man". Chunkz slapped the back of Sharky's neck, making him wince a little.

"Well since you're so keen on rizzing me for a vid? How about I do this-"

You get a rush of adrenaline and hold Sharky's face with both of your hands tiptoeing, as if you were going to kiss him.

You see everyone's reaction from the corner of your eye.

Niko's face tured pale, as if he had seen the KKK guy running towards him.

Chunkz looked like he lost his youtube channel again. (Remember the prank video Sharky did hehe)

Kenny thought he lost a boxing fight.

Aj felt people touching him.

Sharky blanked out.

But, you kiss him on the corner of his lips, just one well-timed push and you would've actually kissed Sharky.

Aj screams "BRO SHE GOT YOU GOOD."

"WALLAHI I THOUGHT THEY WERE DOING LIPS"

"You got this on camera right?"

"Yup, All of it."

TimeSkip

"On my life, I thought you'd do it." Sharky tells you as he walks you home, slowing his pace to match your own.

"Yeah? Well you were flirting with me for the audience so I thought I'd pull a fun stunt". You bring your arms closer to your body, chilly from the weather.

"You really are something Y/n." He casually shrugs off his jacket and places it on you, as if he wasn't having a whole other convo right now.

"Sharky, you'll be cold, plus you have to walk all the way back."

"Wouldn't happen if I stay over tonight now, would it?" He smirked and laughed immediately after, failing to keep up his 'bad boy' persona.

"You're a sweetheart Sharky." You playfully hit his shoulder and let your hand slide down. You noticed he has started walking alot slower.

Both of your hands were grazing each other, slowly interwining.

Neither of you said anything. No one needed to. For now, you allowed yourself to hug his arm and he lowered his head and rubbed it affectionately against your own.

You two would get plenty of time to talk about today, but never get the time to experience this again.

He kissed the top of your head goodbye, watching you unlock your door and get inside. With a determined smile, he walks back to his house, happy knowing that you might feel the way he does.

[hello-nichya-here]

I saw this take on Azula. What do you think:

“the way the atla fandom treats azula reminds me so much of how the spop fandom treats catra. don't get me wrong, i actually love azula, i think she was a very interesting and complex character. but that doesn't take away from the fact that she was still dangerous and toxic, willing to manipulate and control and kill without remorse.

one huge example of azula being coddled by the fandom is when the comics came out, and she was restrained and put into a straitjacket. i saw many fans complaining about how this was ableist and demonizing trauma and mental illnesses.

which.. i mean i'm sure azula has her fair share of mental health issues after all that she went through. but she wasn't restrained because she was mentally unstable, she was restrained because she was (at that point) the strongest firebender who could and would kill everyone in a heartbeat.

literally it feels like people sometimes forget that this was a fantasy world where people had magic powers. azula had to be restrained because she was a firebending prodigy who has killed once, and will kill again. yes, she was mentally unstable but she was also a threat to everyone.

and you can see, in this universe, how every criminal was restrained in some sort of way. In tlok, the red lotus were each contained in custom-made high security prisons because they were that big of a threat to everyone around them. ming-hua was disabled and she was not provided prosthetics in her prison, but this was because she used water as her prosthetics and was a waterbending prodigy with criminal intentions.

if azula was mentally unstable but not dangerous, the straitjacket would not be necessary. and i know that irl there's a lot of history and ethical discourse surrounding the use of straitjackets but in azula's case, i believe it was necessary. it wasn't ableism or demonizing mental illnesses, it was simply a safety measure to assure that no one else got hurt by azula.”

The tags said “again I promise you. You can sympathize with a villain without taking away their actions that made them a villain in the first place. Just saying.”

The writer of said comics full on admited that the way Azula was treated in the asylum was deliberately to justify her condition getting worse through the story, hence her only improving when she's away from it. He wanted her to be abused to get "crazier" and didn't realize that it painted Zuko in a terrible light to allow a place like this to exist at all, let alone send his own sister there.

Azula was being restrained and beaten CONSTANTLY, despite not doing a damn thing. We see it happening. And to try and justify that by going "well, but she COULD, potentially, do something" is literally THE EXACT SAME EXCUSE that was used to justify that kind of mistreatment in real life asylums.

Much like you can't have the black character linched by the fantasy equivalent of the KKK and expect people to not see the racism in that punishment, regardless of said character being a bad guy, you can't send the mentally ill character to be abused in an asylum and expect people to not see obvious demonization of mental illness and disabilities just because they were a bad guy. This is beyond just "Azula, the character, deserved better", this is a case of "these writers are telling their audience, of mostly children, that ableism is okay"

Atla is a fictional story, yes. One that literally said "everyone is capable of great good and great evil." One that shows us characters overcoming trauma through spiritual healing. One that shows us a criminal in the freaking Boiling Rock getting treatment for anger issues. One that literally Zuko himself say Ozai is not beyond saving, even if he understandably doesn't feel like sticking around to see it or try to play any role in it.

Anything that goes "Actually, just beat the villains into submission, no mercy, or second chances, or basic human decency, ever" is an insult to the message and to the original show - hence why Korra and the comics should have never fucking existed.

You can enjoy Azula as a villain and not want her to be redeemed without excusiving bad, intolerant writing just because it has bad things happening to her. I promise.

[zukizeneeheeheehee]

Bro my inner be pansexuality be actinup whenever i saw IDOL!AU sanses especially dream gawd demn

Btw is IDOL!Geno was already taken? If not then can I take his place 🫢🫢(sorry if this is asked 2 times rn i literally did that so u wont get tired of scrolling in the notification finding my comment☠️)

Many people already asked me whether they could take some other sanses' official slots, so before more ppl ask me

Sorry but my answer is no, atleast not yet

Since the last wave I was so overwhelmed and stress ( i dont even know why) and i dont like it. My purpose of growing this AU is For Fun, and now im not feeling it lately.

Maybe when things settles down and im feeling better. Maybe, just maybe, i'll be ready for the next wave. I'll neither made them myself or open slots for you guys💞

Untill then, i'll stick with zaddy Kill 😔🖐️ hes literally my coping mechanism rn kkk

[strawbebehmod]

Hey guys? If you see a post that's thesis is telling you not to vote or that voting is pointless because both candidates are equally bad? Report it for election interference. I'm not fucking kidding.

It doesn't matter what the rest of the post is about, Palestine, social justice, anti nazism, etc. if it's main point is to convince you not to vote or that voting is pointless, report it. This is what happened in 2016. A bunch of fake ass social justice blogs turned out to be Russian agents convincing people not to vote and that's how we ended up with trump

"but Biden is as bad as tr-"

And who told you that? A blog that is saying that the situation in Israel is Biden's fault? As if most of the world isn't complicite in the genocide right now? As if trump isn't more pro Israel and didn't try to put a Muslim ban in place his literal first week in office? Or was it the blog that is saying that the trans bans being created by the legislatures of red states are some how the fault of the left leaning president who has very limited power over what laws are made on federal level, let alone a state level, and we don't see these problems in blue states at all? Yeah. Sounds stupid now, doesn't it? These were the kind of same logic trap tactics that were used in 2016.

The point is this: vote. Fucking vote. Encourage everyone to vote and report people who say not too. Don't like either candidate? Write in a name for all I care and just focus on local election stuff. Senators, legislatures, congressmen, local judges, mayoral officials, treasures...there is so much more to a ballot than the presidency and if you chose not to vote you are not only throwing away your vote for the presidency but also a vote towards every fucking other thing going on in your community that you have a say in. There's a reason women fought for over a hundred years for their right to vote. There's a reason why the KKK killed black people for voting. There's a reason why specific races kept getting excluded from suffrage in bills and such, because voting is FUCKING POWERFUL. It was and is something people fought and died to gain and fought and killed to keep away from people. People don't do that for no reason. You can make a difference and there is no reason for someone to tell someone not to vote, unless they want the worst possible outcome. Because they know exactly what they are doing. They saw it happen in 2016, and they are trying to do it again. Heck, they did it in Weimar Germany too during a period of sudden economic down turn.....ya know? What eventually lead to the Nazis taking over?

A moderate, useless government is always better than a broken one, and our government will break if we don't participate in democracy. And there's no way we are gonna fix it if we let it collapse.

Sometimes voting isn't about winning or making giant strides. Sometimes it's about keeping the boot firmly down on a Nazis throat.

And remember if Trump wins he can pardon every single Nazi in this nation that follows him.

[zvtara-was-never-canon]

Question: "It also gives me LOK flashbacks to that awful Statue of Liberty knock-off in "Republic City", that is totally not New York, trust us guys, we are totally not forcing american things into a scenario where it doesn't belong." <- is gen, right?

Because I got into an argument with a (yt) person where I said Republic City irl counterpart is Singapore or Hong Kong since it was an ex colonial city-state that's a melting pot of several cultures and I got called ridiculous for thinking that and it was "obviously new york city look at the skyline and statue."

While those parallels would have been very nice, New York is ALSO a an extremelly diverse, ex-collonial city, and while it's not independent from the rest of the US, the country itself it's in an unique situation with every state, New York very much included, having it's own constitution and working almost as 50 countries pretending to be a single thing. And, more importantly, the Statue of Liberty, probably the easiest way to say "By the way, the characters are in New York" without actually having to say it, was the model for Aang's statue, and it was a gift from the Fire Nation like the real life one was a gift from France to the US.

The showrunners were basically going through a "prohibition era phase." A LOT of Korra's aesthetic resembles 1920's america - including the big leap on technology from ATLA to LOK. And during those years, racial tensions were escalating FAST since it was the peak of the KKK - and oh, look at that, turns out the first season's plot is "Non-benders are being discriminated against and fighting back."

That is why I believe that simmilaries to Singapore and/or Hong Kong were either accidental or a last minute attempt to make it slightly less american (and considering how little effort was put into Korra in general, I'd bet all of my money on the first option).

Imagine, for exemple, that we have a franchise whose fictional world is quite clearly inspired by different eras of Egypt - and then suddenly one of the shows of said franchise has one of the major locations have a building that looks like the Eiffel Tower at it's capital, the characters from that place all have a french accent and mention a great revolution that happened in the past with people getting their heads cut off in public, and everything from the clothes people wear to the technology they have resembles 1920's France. The writers COULD add stuff that was inspired by the history of Egypt, but even if they went as far as calling the capital city Cairo, we all know what we're actually seeing on screen.

The writers/showrunners may or may not have wanted the way Republic City works to be at least a little bit like Singapore's or Hong Kong's system - it doesn't matter, because animation is the kind of media that is primarely about the VISUALS, and they made sure that everything about the city's look screamed "New York", so people are going to call it New York.

[missbubblesoda]

attack on titan in hita (2)

The very first place we went to was ‘the wall’ and the bronze statue of EMA looking up at it, meant to recreate that iconic scene from the first chapter of the manga. It was “made possible thanks to a crowdfunding effort made up of many fans who shared a desire for the children and people of Oyama Town (Isayama-sensei’s hometown) to have the courage needed to take on the unknown and overcome hardship” as written on the plaque next to the statue.

The wall is really the Oyama Dam and the place itself, as well as the road leading there, are super scenic and picturesque. We went on a chilly, rainy day and imo the weather only added to the atmosphere kkk I was listening to nisennen, shougeki and name of love on the ride there and I was feeling it you guys haha

There is an app that you can use to take AR pictures of the wall, where the colossus is supposed to appear peeking behind, but the pictures weren’t coming out as we expected (or maybe we don’t know how to use a camera🤡) so I just ended up photoshopping bertolt into my pictures later when I got home kkkk

[taehyung19952010]

A/N POV: Y/N reads in Highschool. She never really liked the other school she used to read in. Nobody was friends with her there. People bullied her. But ever since she changed the school, she has had a peaceful life. She even met her childhood friend Aeri here. Also made a lot more new friends. She is friends with one of senior boy's in the school too. Jimin, Aeri's elder brother. Since she is friends with Aeri, Jimin and her built up a friendship too. Jimin has a lot of friends too, but one boy in particular caught Y/N's attention. She swears she hasn’t seen a more handsome guy. His name is Kim Taehyung. He is quite popular in the school. He is a topper plus his good looks always catch everyones attention. In fact, Jimin's entire friend group is popular for being smart and good-looking.

Present POV: It was the starting of school. Y/N and Aeri took their books and were chatting in front of the lockers while waiting for the bell.

Aeri: Oh Y/N, I wanted to ask you something.

Y/N: Yeah?

Aeri: Me and Jimin oppa were thinking about having a sleepover with our bestfriends.

Y/N: Oh that sounds good.

Aeri: Yes! He is gonna bring his bestfriend so he told me to invite you too.

Y/N: Oh! Sure I'll come.

Aeri: Okayy!!

Y/N: Who is Jimin oppa's bestfriend though?

Aeri: Oh, you're gonna be happy to hear this-

She said smirking

Y/N: Don't tell me-

Y/N said with big eyes

Aeri: Yes it is.

Y/N: TAEHYUNG OPPA?!

???: Yes?

You flinched at the deep voice and looked behind seeing Taehyung standing there.

Y/N: O-oh I- I

Taehyung: You called me?

He asked, genuinely thinking you called him

Y/N: Oh- I-

You looked at Aeri, asking for help with your eyes

Aeri: Oh oppa- she called you...because you know for about the sleepover.

You nodded in agreement

Taehyung: Oh, that. I'm so excited for that.

He said with his famous boxy smile, making you blush

Y/N: Yeahh...me too.

You smiled at him

Taehyung: You're coming with Aeri?

Y/N: Oh- yeah.

Taehyung: Angels listened to my prayer!

He said in a low voice

Y/N: What?

Taehyung: Oh nothing. It's time for class. You guys go and I'll go too. See you!

Y/N: Bye!

Aeri: Byee!

After Taehyung left, you and Aeri went for the class too.

Time skip to lunch time

Aeri: Myyy bestiee Y/Nieeeee

Y/N: No need to call me that, what do you want?

You said knowing she acts like that when she wants something.

Aeri: Can you please please bring my lunch for me along with yours?

Y/N: *sighed* okay but next time you’ll bring me too.

Aeri: Okay! Thank youuu...love youu!

She said making a finger heart

Y/N: Kkk..love you too.

With that you went to the line and stood there. It didn’t take you two seconds to recognise the perfume of the guy in front of you. Suddenly, he looked back.

Taehyung: Oh Y/N, you're here?

Y/N: ohh yeahh...

Taehyung: You can stand here.

He said moving away from his place

Y/N: Oh no no no. You stay at your place. I'm good.

Taehyung: Ani, just stand.

You couldn’t say anything more since you run out of words around him.

Jungkook: Woahh, you never give your place in a line to anyone.

He said to Taehyung while smirking.

Taehyung: I- I do.

He said nervously

Jungkook: No, hyung. You didn’t give it to me nor to that other girl from that day.

Taehyung: That girl is always behind me. I don’t like her.

Y/N: WHO?

You ended up asking even if you didn’t want to. You internally cursed yourself.

Jungkook: It's one of the girls in our class. She got expelled though.

He said, Taehyung smiling in freedom.

Y/N: That's good.

Taehyung: Why?

Taehyung asked, making you awkward. He knew what he was doing because the jealously was visible on your face.

Y/N: O-oh nothing.

Taehyung: Ohh okayy...

Taehyung smirked

Time skip to evening

A/N POV: It was evening already. All of you were at Jimin's and Aeri's house for the sleepover. You guys did some baking, watched a movie, ate snacks and now were thinking about what to do. But Jimin and Aeri had other plans.

Jimin: How about we play hide-n-seek?

Taehyung: What are we, kids?

Aeri: Yahh...we can play hide-n-seek too, you know.

Taehyung: Y/N, you wanna play?

Y/N: Hmmm...sure.

Taehyung: Okay then. Let's play.

Jimin just burst out laughing out of nowhere

Y/N: Why are you laughing?

Aeri: Isn't it obvious?

Taehyung: What?

Jimin: Taehyung just confes-

Before he could finish his sentence he got hit by a pillow on his face

Taehyung: Don't talk so much. Let's just play.

Aeri just laughed while you wondered what's going on, but you didn’t ask since you saw the embarrassment on Taehyung's face.

Aeri: I'll look for you guys first.

Jimin: Okayy!

Aeri went in a corner and started counting

Jimin whispered to Taehyung: You hide with Y/N. She is too scared to hide alone.

Taehyung: Why m-

Before he could finish, Jimin ran off.

Taehyung POV: IT'S ALWAYS ME. Not that I mind.

He thought walking off behind you happily

Y/N: Taehyung oppa-

Taehyung: Yes?

Y/N: Uh- can you hide with me?

Taehyung: Okay...where do you wanna hide?

Y/N: I don’t know-

Jimin: You guys can hide in my bedroom. There are lots of places to hide there.

Y/N: Okay..thank you.

You and Taehyung went there and got in a corner.

Meanwhile, Jimin went and instead of hiding he went and turned off the electricity. Making all the lights go out. You flinched in fear. You hated the dark. You just held Taehyung's hand tightly.

Taehyung whispered in your ear making chills go down your spine.

Taehyung: Are you scared?

Y/N: I- I am.

Taehyung: Its okay, I'm here.

He said and went closer to you, holding onto your hand.

Meanwhile-

Aeri: Lock the door hurry!

Jimin and Aeri locked the door from outside. They both know they like each other a lot. They were planning to somehow make any of them confess. So, they thought what if they lock you up together.

Almost 20 minutes passed

Y/N: Why isn’t anyone coming?

Taehyung: It's been almost 20 minutes. I'll go check-

He was about to get up while you held his hand again

Y/N: Don't leave me here!

Taehyung: Aishh...come with me.

You both holding hands, went to the door and attempted to open it. Taehyung shocked when he realized its locked.

Taehyung: The door is locked!

Y/N: What the heck do you mean?

Taehyung: I'm being serious.

You also attempted but couldn’t. You both tried to call out to Jimin and Aeri but those two are out there ignoring the shouting and eating snacks. They were smart enough and set up a recorder so that they can hear them and unlock the door in time.

Taehyung: NOW WHAT?

Y/N: How would I know?

You both just sat there on the bed not knowing what to do. They tried to call them by phone but nobody picked up.

You were just there trying to open the door.

Taehyung: Quit trying.

Y/N: Ahh but what are we now stuck here?

Taehyung: It's looking like that.

Y/N: Are you literally chill about it now?

Taehyung: No! As much as I love being here with you, I wanna get out too.

You just blinked

Y/N: What do- y-you mean?

Taehyung: I said I LOVE being here with you.

You quietly sat beside him

Y/N: W-why?

Taehyung: Why not? I always loved being with you. Your presence is cute.

You're cheeks got pink, it being slightly visible.

Taehyung chuckled

Taehyung: You look more cute when you blush.

Y/N: Oh my god- stop!

You said looking down making Taehyung giggle

Taehyung: Can I tell you something?

You looked back at him

Y/N: Yeah?

Taehyung: I- I...

His voice sounding hesitant and nervous Taehyung: I-I like you.

He quickly said in one breath

You just sitting there blushing, flabbergasted

Taehyung: I understand if you don’t. I won’t forc-

Before he could finish, you cupped his face and kissed him. He was extremely shocked, but kissed you back in no time. You didn’t know what you did but it happened unintentionally.

You pulled away. Both you blushing and breathing heavily.

Y/N: I-I like you too.

He giggled

Taehyung: Angels heard my prayers.

Y/N: Same...

You both laughed. Suddenly, you heard the door unlock

Taehyung: JIMIN-AH! COME HERE YOU-

Taehyung ran behind Jimin started hitting him with a pillow

Jimin: Y-yah I helped y-you-

He stopped hitting

Taehyung: What do you mean?

Jimin: Congratulations to the new couple-

Aeri and Jimin together: Taehyung and Y/N

You both looked at each other in embarrassment. Jimin and Aeri laughing. You both blushing. But then, you four enjoyed the night and you loved spending it with your boyfriend Taehyung.

Thank you for reading! Hope you enioyed.

[tammog]

Do you live in a bizarro world?

Kamala did not try to be "centrist". She actively courted Republican voters by trying to be the Republican Party with a different paint job. She wanted genocide in Palestine. She wanted immigrants to be criminalized and MORE people to die during border crossings. She wasn't "Centrist", unless you want to call her that to point out how much she kissed fascist ass while being absolutely ineffectual in how I would use the word "centrist": Derogatorily.

But even aside from her policy her campaign was absolute ass. She started with huge momentum and then turned around 180 to instantly kill it.

Her campaign sent Bill fucking Clinton to Michigan Arab communities to tell them how Israel has a right to shoot missiles at children.

They basically relied on having people actually on the left held hostage - "It's me or Trump", true enough - while then also doing everything to look as much as the Republicans as possible to get Republican votes somehow. IDK why Republicans would vote for watered down Republicans over the real ones, OR how people on the left would NOT lose motivation to vote for her if she tries to be as much as the other guy as she possibly can, so this was a clearly losing strategy in both directions, AS STAFFERS TOLD PEOPLE, AS ANALYSTS WARNED HER AND THE OTHER CAMPAIGN LEADERS, as everyone on the left kept telling people.

And now after the election, an election that she lost because 15 million people just did not show up to vote, in large part because she tried to make herself seem as bad as possible while relying on the fact that people would try to vote for her to avert something worse, who gets the blame?

Not the fascist-maxxing DNC campaign, not even the voter suppression I heard being talked about so much before, but people on the left, minorities, and the fucking Palestinians BEING MURDERED AS YOU COMPLAIN ABOUT THEM despite them not even being in the same country or being able to vote.

So many posts of liberals - derogatory, again - being gleeful that even if they are going to have it bad, Palestinians are going to die. Posts from liberals hoping that minorities get deported. Posts from liberals wishing queer people death because they have deluded themselves into thinking that all these groups made their sports team lose and everything would be fine and dandy if Harris had won.

Look in a mirror. Look at all the things Harris did. Ask yourself if you truly think she did ANYTHING right.

And if you think she did everything right, why don't you go sign up for the GOP or the KKK, they seem to be more your place.

[katherine-bean]

I fell in love with a blood. He hurt me so I tried to hurt him back. I got human trafficked, beat up and raped. I had to get raped or freeze to death in the cold for a whole winter!!!!! The guys that took me in their place or car didn’t even feed me. Guess what? The guys that raped, sodomized, tortured and starved me - 99.99% - NIGGERS! I lost about 90 pounds in one winter!!! I begged for death. Never trust a black person that loves red. Or talks about bloody this or big homie or Niggerina or snoopy or anything like that. This blood gang member made me a song that said I love you and you’re the one and then wouldn’t even help me and took money from me! There’s a reason why they call the mean dogs red flag dogs at the shelter. Those dogs attack people and usually get put to sleep. God hates the sight of blood. And I do too.

Black people that wear red shirts, not always but usually, wear red shirts, bandanas, anything red, red cars. They sell drugs, hurt people, kill people, and force people to have sex or die.

I hope all the blood goes away. And I pray to Love to forget all the pain and all the people who hurt me and never see them again. And I have faith because Love told me. God will make up for every injustice you’ve encountered. And also amor vincit omnia - LOVE CONQUERS ALL - Slavery was terrible, I guess I only say that because they were STARVING AND DYING IN AFRICA so maybe white people were just trying to idk help them stay alive and try and get them to do some work in exchange. I know slavery was bad. But you should know, 237 million people in Africa suffer from hunger and famine. So I think everybody should be nice and I’m not gonna hang around mean people I wanna have a healthy mind. So I need to be around nice people who don’t hurt me. And you do too. 😉

I can’t believe I’m still alive. When a bad person dies, the city cheers. God Hates violence. God hates murder. I pray for the mean people’s healing, I pray I can forgive them, and I pray I can FORGET. BLACK PEOPLE THAT WEAR RED WANNA HURT YOU IF YOURE WHITE

They’re the black KKK

#3

Krisstiiaannn nigger

I might die idk shout out to the white girls

Ps

J. R. Aka “doc” forced me to have sex with him and while he was raping me he was saying “I know you know I’m a child molester!!! And since Katie wants to be a nigga so bad!” He put stuff all over my face. Idk what did more damage that or getting forced to have sex with a teenager or a young adult idk I couldn’t see but getting forced to have sex with what looked like a teenager to get out of the snow. Idk which was worse. They both hurt a lot. I’m grateful I’m not throwing up everyday anymore. I’ve been throwing up everyday several times a day for about two years but it’s getting better because I don’t get in guys cars and I don’t do crack or meth anymore. I just like weed. I don’t even like drinking i learned sober means just don’t drink. And I think the hard drugs just mean you’re in a bad situation. I pray Love continues to heal me because my mind is still sick. I see images that flash in my head of hurting people just for a second and it scares me. But I seen this quote at the homeless shelter that says if you had $86,400 you probably wouldn’t be that mad if you lost $40. So if a little something bad happens here or there don’t get upset because the 86,400 is how many seconds there are in a day so don’t get upset if you got a little bit of bad time because you got so much good time so don’t let 5 minutes ruin the 1,440 you do have

Xoxo

I love to tell you my stories

[000life-is-meaningless000]

More Proof, Life is Meaningless !

. . .

Ever wonder why it's so hard to figure out what it means to be a good person ?

. . .

Ever deeply wonder why in the fuck it's so goddamn hard, to be the good person ?

The Nazis thought they were actually the heroes if you study both sides of the war and you don't just get one fucking side of the goddamn story

You'll see that the Nazis thought they were the good guys, they thought they were German Angels fighting for the side of the light.

The KKK in their time. Thought they too were the soap where the good guys they even named themselves White Knight to represent Lords of positivity or the right hand of God

That's not gives me started on the fucking crusaders, and how they too thought they were the good guys

It gets even fucking worse I'm not saying vegans are bad I'm not saying being on her before is bad

But being vegan or being a herbivore is so, deeply praised it caused, a craze !

People say vegan is positive vegan is good vegan is Holy, yet . . .

Carnivores fucking exist in their part of God's Creation

. . .

The vegan thought they were the good one they thought meat equals darkness and plants equal life the little do they understand that the plants are alive the plants are fucking sentient

The God Damn plants are alive,

You See, I often wonder of Good as an illusion ?

. . .

I often wonder of good is just perception based I often wonder what is anything they say the light is pure good have you ever stare at the fucking son you'll blow your eyes out and go blind, That doesn't seem very Good ?

PEOPLE SAY POSITIVITY IS GOOD, Electricity Is Made Out Of Fucking POSITIVE ENERGY !

So, let's see the light is positive it'll blow your eyes out the electricity is positive so it won't let the cute the shit out of you, there's such thing as toxic positivity

😐 - Life . . . Is, . . . Meaningless !

In less, u like Evil ?

[kindtobechurlish]

These old men don’t speak up for President Grant, President Grant made it about the porch as he was a Whig - that is why the elder negroes didn’t speak up for him and they had kids. The elder negroes saw Ulysses Grant was a Whig, and they let the white supremacist call him the worse president ever.

These old men don’t echo that the KKK did their thing in the 1800’s in all Confederate States but Georgia. So, the negroes didn’t have sense to see Grant stopped the KKK and they don’t have sense to see what actually enabled MLK. Where was the capital of the Confederacy? Montgomery. “MLK, in the lodge.” I show you about it, I have to make it about opium and that chair. You don’t want to think about it, a woman who is weird and strange thinks it would be her “place” and it is due to me marrying in her. Don’t you hate women like that? Some woman can’t come in and have a house in a neighborhood and do it by New York economy, and the state is me. I’m not some guy who is going to be a George Santos if the state is me. You like people who live in luxury when they eat? Don’t be with me. You don’t get it.

[justforbooks]

The Stand – the original version of it, something I'll talk about later – was published in 1978. I read it 16 years after that. I can remember the time and place: on holiday in Turkey with my family. I can remember that the copy I had was already falling apart, because it was enormous, and the binding wasn't made to be opened, I don't think. The glue melted as I read the thing; page by page, it fell apart. While I knew I loved King before that holiday, afterwards I'd have followed him to hell and back. It's because of The Stand that I've read all his work, and that I embarked on this series; it's because of The Stand that I'm a writer at all. And because of all this, I don't really know where to start writing about it.

Maybe with Captain Trips. Prior to 1978, King had published three novels under his name that focused on ordinary people ruined or damaged by extraordinary (and inexplicably paranormal) situations. The Stand looked at those ordinary people – the readers of his book – and said: let's damage you all. Rather than the threat being ghosts or vampires, it was a sickness, nicknamed, in the novel, Captain Trips. The sickness was a flu that killed 99.4% of the world's population, and it's terrifying, because we all get the flu. Even as you read the novel, you feel a chill coming over you. (Trust me: I reread this partly on my morning commute, sitting next to somebody with a cough that sounded like death. It's still scary.) Because it's plausible, it affects people in a lasting way. When swine flu broke out in 2009, I lost track of the number of tweets referring to it as Captain Trips. When we're scared we joke; and we joke because of the bubonic plague, because of Spanish flu, and because it feels so wholly reasonable to imagine a virus decimating the world. Worse still? Captain Trips was made in a lab, just like those biological weapons we're all slightly terrified of. The bad guy in The Stand was made by us, and it killed us. That's hubris for you.

I call it the bad guy, but Captain Trips isn't the bad guy. Not really. That honour falls to Randall Flagg. I've mentioned him before but here's where he makes his grand entrance. He's a man of many names: The Walking Dude, The Ageless Stranger, He Who Walks Behind The Rows, The Man In Black, Walter O'Dim, The Dark Man. In The Stand, one character calls him The Antagonist, vague and present and inexplicable. He's bigger than the novel, than the world that's collapsed and torn itself apart; and he only appears when it's done, walking from nowhere, only hazily able to remember who he was before (but that he killed policemen, fought for the KKK, and helped to kidnap Patty Hearst).

Where King's previous antagonists were small fry (or protagonists flipped on their heads), Randall Flagg is never less than pure evil. He has a counterpart, as all evils should: Mother Abigail, 108 years old, who communes with God, and who is the frail good to Flagg's evil. Both have the ability to inspire those around them, but Flagg has an advantage: evil is inherently stronger. It's easier. He's able to gather an army from the weak-minded, the stragglers, finding the darkness that's in us all and using it. He brings out everything awful in those susceptible to him: in his lackey Lloyd, and Trashcan Man, and The Kid, and Harold.

Harold. Poor Harold Emery Lauder, the weakest of the weak. A boy only a couple of years older than I was when I read the book for the first time, and who – like me, as I was discovering – wanted nothing more than to be a writer. And he knew about the same things that I did: being in love with girls who didn't know he existed; wanting to be somebody that he was hopelessly ill-prepared to be; and (the bane of all teenagers) feeling singular, alone. Harold was the crux for me; he presented me with the question that makes the novel so powerful and affecting to so many people. What would I do? If I was suddenly completely alone, if I was given the ability to do anything I wanted with no consequences, would I retain my morality? Or would I, like Harold, naturally skew towards evil because of my baser – albeit human – desires? Do we all have that potential inside us?

As the novel progresses and the survivors of the flu are forced to pick sides – drawn through their dreams to the darkness or the light, to Randall Flagg or Mother Abigail – Harold shows his true colours. In the novel's early stages he is a confused, angry, horny teenager; through Flagg's influence, he loses himself. He becomes a killer, a cold-blooded mess of rage when Flagg persuades him (using sexy schoolteacher Nadine, and the promise of Harold finally getting laid) to detonate a bomb and kill his friends. After succeeding and running away, he ends his life alone, his own hands on the gun, the only time in the novel he's actually offered anything resembling control. I remember thinking how terribly sad this was, because when the book starts he's just a kid. That's easy to forget. Stu Redman feels sad for him as well, and if I most associated with Harold at times, Stu was who I wanted to become.

Why? He's noble. He's quiet and moral and even passionate, and he manages to help inspire the gang of good guys to carry on, despite Randall Flagg's dark temptations. He's the one whom Mother Abigail entrusts to go to Flagg and fight back. He's an authority figure, respected and clever, and he's willing to die for the good of the world and his friends. He doesn't: he breaks his leg, almost as if he's spared, and he watches Las Vegas explode at the novel's close; the threat eliminated, the world ready to rebuild itself. He is able to be the father to Frannie's child.

That's not an accident. Nothing in The Stand is an accident. As much as it's a novel about the battle between good and evil, it's also a novel about fate. These people – the American contingent of the 0.6% of the world's population who survived Captain Trips – manage to meet up in Las Vegas, called from all around by dreams. Did they choose to find each other, or was it chosen for them? Mother Abigail's dreams come courtesy of God; she is his prophet, and she assembles her own biblical-type followers. Pregnant Franny, whose child can assert the human race's survival; the forgiving and ailing Glen; deaf-mute Nick; mentally challenged Tom Cullen, who will save Stu Redman; Larry Underwood, who starts the novel dreaming of Flagg, and is filled with darkness, but somehow finds the light. All the cast are put upon and challenged.

I read once that The Stand was essentially the Book of Job, with the survivors in Job's place: tested by good and evil both; pushed and challenged to see how much they could endure, as if their suffering were a game. There's a little more epic fantasy here than in the Bible, maybe, and it ends not with a war, but with an accident; with the chaos of Trashcan Man finding a weapon, and with Flagg's showing off going to far. But I can still see it. Good wins by default, because evil cannot. Those were the rules in the Old Testament, and they're the rules now.

I've read this book five times in adulthood, by my reckoning, and more when I was a teenager. I know some people read books over and over, but I don't; I'm a once-round-then-shelve-it reader, unless a book really stands out to me. This is my most reread book. I can't think of one that has affected me so much. It scared me and excited me; but more than that, it was the first time I noticed the textures of a novel. The Stand is dense and rich. Every character is full and alive, and they're all in the book with a purpose. They cover every shade of human morality, and that astonished me: the deftness of King's writing in making no two feel alike, and making their deaths – because a lot of the cast die, heroes and villains both, something that almost feels inevitable from the outset – mean something. Everything in the book means something, and nothing is accidental. I can still read it and see the narrative threads, set up to be exploited, revealed or knocked down: and the hints in the subtle stylistic touches (Mother Abigail's side drawn into longer, more florid descriptions of their actions; Flagg's side blunter, more bullish, more exposed).

I don't think I can talk objectively, really.

The Stand is a masterpiece, and I don't use that word lightly. King says in the novel's introduction that he "wanted to write a fantasy epic like The Lord of the Rings, only with an American setting", and that's absolutely what he did.

Important to note, this: there are two versions of The Stand. One was published in 1978, and it's about 800 pages long, and it's set in the 1980s. Another was published in 1991, and it's about 1,200 pages long, and it's set in the 90s. The books are the same story, the same characters; content cut from the early version was put back and the book slightly remastered, as it were, for King's later, more-receptive-to-giant-novels audience. Whichever one you read it's the same book, but for the finality of a single scene at the end of the remaster: where Randall Flagg has survived the novel's endgame, reborn somewhere else entirely, new memories and a new identity, and with a new group of people to try and lead.

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at http://justforbooks.tumblr.com

[spiritotel]

guys i really need you to realize america isn't the only place on this earth. like i'm begging you, at this point. western whites aren't the only white people in the world either. there are slavs, south-eastern and eastern europeans living in countries actively exploited by the west in this day and age, discriminated, suffering against racist violence etc. immigrants getting beat up within an inch of their lives in northern europe is nothing new under the sun.

i am from balkans. my country has never had colonies. in fact, since 7th century, it's been colonized by other countries, never having independence until 1991. during world wars my people were sent literally as sacrificial pawns. then came nazis who actively put us and other slavic people into concentration camps with mussolini's son in law actually saying he "wants to kill all slovenes, no matter how many there are". there were italian concentration camps made specifically for slavic people, mostly slovenians and croats because we were near them.

hitler's idea was to exterminate all south-eastern slavs so that arians could inherit the land. the ones who immigrated to the states were pursued by KKK (mostly polish and ukrainian people).

the world doesn't revolve around america/west, and constantly forgetting about south-eastern/eastern europe is genuinely doing a diservice to everyone. we are already exploited by more powerful countries, and this homogenization is getting quite annoying

I’ve heard some people saying you can’t or shouldn’t work with your ancestors if you’re white. I think this is an exaggeration of what is actually reasonable. Use discernment! Not all your ancestors were bad people. Perhaps most are. But you DONT have to work with those rotten ones (Nazis, sexists, homophobes, abusive assholes, slave owners). The truth is, not everyone in history was evil like that. Did your white ancestors benefit from white privilege? ABSOLUTELY. So do ALL white people, even the ones who don’t like or subscribe to racism. Even current living ones. The misconception with ancestor work is that you have to apparently “like everything about them and treat them like a flawless deity”. Which is so SO wrong. You should treat your ancestors like you’d treat your living family and friends! If your friend started calling someone homophobic or racist slurs would you continue to take their advice and hang out with them? NO. So, ultimately what I’m saying is that discernment is key. My white great grandmother was an amazing woman. She wasn’t perfect, but she was beautiful and strong of heart. She was a bold and flamboyant woman, and was an advocate for women expressing their sexuality and pursuing their dreams at a time when that was absolutely frowned upon. She made mistakes, but she grew from them. I had the honor of having her in my earlier years of life. And she didn’t discriminate against the lgbtq community, in fact was friends with a lot of gays because they were working in the same industry as her (dancing, modeling, art, etc). I love her and I love working with her. I honor the right things she did, and I learn from the problematic decisions she made and regrets. So yeah, don’t discount your ancestors just cause they’re white. There’s a good chance they‘lol be racist. But there’s an off chance that instead they’d actually genuinely ok people who you can learn from their experiences. I hope this post doesn’t come off wrong. I’m not saying honor racists and homophobes. I’m saying don’t throw out the nice babies with the yucky bath water.

Reblog with polite corrections or perspectives if you find this wrong or dumb in anyway! I’d love feedback and am willing to hear others perspectives!

[golbrocklovely]

i'm gonna do the briefest of reviews for snc's previous video. and really i'm only doing it bc i like continuity lol

so here's my review for the fourth video in snc's attachment series

aka "Our Unbelievable Night at USA's Scariest Prison"

not technically related to this video, but i want snc to do the penitentiary in pa so badly. i also just want snc do a haunted video in pa or near philly in general. but that's besides the point lol

steve made a valid point in the beginning about how a prison is the perfect spot for ghost activity bc of all the negative emotions that happen there. it's like a hotbed for bad spirits to stay at or go towards.

the history of the prison is so vast and dark, it's a shame that snc barely even scratched the surface of what actually happened there. seriously tho, they could have spent like three videos just investigating and learning the history of that place.

now onto the investigation:

personally, i would love for snc to chill on the music cues and the loud bangs that they use to show shit is going off.

for some reason the guys were like extra jumpy when they were in the sugar shack. like you can literally see snc jump back like a handful of times lol

that big ass planchet was comical as hell to me sksksk

when they were in that hallway and the door or window was creaking and making that banging noise, no joke, my heart dropped into my ass lmao idk what that was about but that was hell scary

also maybe it's me but i would literally run down that hallway just to see what was making that noise like i'm not tip-toeing down

sam saying "hello" and then hyperventilating. hilarious. couldn't be more of "first person killed off in a horror movie" vibe.

side note that i just remembered while skipping thru the video: the fact that they kept fucking up how to say "aryan" was probably the weirdest/funniest thing to me. like how innocent are our boys that they don't know about the kkk??? like what lol

the possible "inhuman" spirit that was following them around, i felt like, was just trying to fuck with them. to get them upset and scared. spirits feed off of energy like that. and especially towards the end when sam starts freaking out bc he thinks he's talking to a demon or sallie or something...

highkey i loved the days of our lives bit. i felt like the video was starting to get a bit dark, and then they brought in a full costume change and song, and honestly, couldn't be happier about it

also the "dancing with sam and colby" part made me weirdly uncomfortable and i don't know why lol

i find it interesting that colby got literally nothing in his cell. it could be that his cell just doesn't have any activity. or, could it be that the spirits around were scared by his energy????

and then when they did the estes method... sam was just way too worked up. i get that they only had a bit of time left and so they had to rush it so nerves were already high, but it's one of those things were if he was calm and just relaxed for a second, he would have felt better and less nervous talking to whatever they were speaking to. personally, i don't think it was a demon. i think it was a inmate who was just fucking with him and trying to make him scared.

okay, overall, i think i said originally i would rate this video a 3/5 but after rewatching it, i'm gonna rate it a little bit lower at a 2.8/5. i know, silly change. but i just feel like this video is one i won't be coming back to. i think that had a lot of good in it, but something was off or missing the entire time. i can't think of what it is. but this video was just very meh all around.

[dream-critical]

Sorry this is so long, but I’m writing this to provide a bit of perspective from the other side (I am a poc, but I’m Asian-Mexican, and have no right to speak over black voices).

I think you see the Dream making gay jokes thing as separate from the doxxing thing and as separate from the racism thing. What happened on Twitter these past few weeks, I genuinely believe, was because people want to paint the narrative of Dream as the stereotypical problematic secretly racist straight white male, because that’s what the gamer community used to be full of.

Dream makes a joke pretending to be homophobic -> this can fit the twitter evil Dream narrative, let’s call him out for being straight.

Dream says that he isn’t straight -> this doesn’t match the narrative, so let’s twist it so it does (queerbaiting, damage control, faking for clout).

Dream responds to one of the many homophobic hate comments on his sexuality tweet, person privates, stating they don’t want to be doxxed -> this fits the narrative, because it feeds the established the narrative that Dream Stans will doxx people. Let’s make it worse by making the homophobia out to be reasonable criticism that Dream couldn’t take. (Note: other people attempted to frame a doxxing attempt, the real person says that nothing happened actually happened)

Larger twitter sees that hating Dream is popular once more, so they bring up an edit they’ve been keeping in their back pocket for years -> this fits the narrative.

Dream addresses everything, leaves it up to fans to decide if they want to continue supporting him knowing what he’s done in the past. In the midst, he badly words the reality of doxxing -> This can fit the narrative, Clip it, don’t provide anything else on what he said, “Dream says nothing will happen if you’re a small account and you’re doxxed so dw about it!” “Dream encourages fans to doxx people” “Dream doesn’t care abt doxxing”

Dream proceeds to get mass doxxed as sick retribution, with the #dreamOUT trending for three days with his private information on full display. He mass deletes a bunch of tweets that are now getting qrt’ed with his dox -> Twitter is silent, no acknowledging this, because it won’t fit the narrative.

At this point, any genuine criticism poc fans had for Dream only got acknowledged by Dream himself, while being drowned out by the rest of Twitter who are simply repeating the narrative and spreading around the edit instead of boosting the voices of people who the edit would actually concern and hurt.

All Dream fans are pissed, poc or not, because this situation is no longer about anything important, it’s just about hurting Dream.

Dream antis are satisfied because Twitter now has more ammunition for its Evil Dream narrative.

This started as homophobia, turned to hate, turned to an absolutely overblown and fucked “punishment.”

It’s not hard to see why Dream fans, even a lot of poc Dream fans, are so defensive of him, it’s why they stick by him. His lack of public support on Twitter, the main place where controversy takes place, makes it seem as if Dream fans are the only people willing to give the guy a kind word or a level headed critic.

I know you think he gets away with things, but trust me, he doesn’t. He’s one of the few YouTubers I’ve seen who can’t get away from anything without it tainting his public image (Twitter, because anyone who just knows him from YouTube isn’t as affected by his controversies). “Hes racist, he made a kkk fancam” is the new popular response to anyone speaking positively about Dream. “We didn’t welcome him in the LGBTQ+ community, because he’s racist” says the Ranboo fans. “Dream needs to shut up” says the YouTube controversy channels. He’s was even getting called racist in his reply to Elon Musk, the known labor extortionist.

What Dream fans are waiting for now, the same reason they’re so angry at anyone who takes a shot a Dream, is for someone, anyone, to acknowledge that what happens to him is too fucking much.

ok so i'm gonna try to say this in the kindest way possible anon, but i dont think starting an ask with "i think you see x as y" is a good way to start a long ask bc it literally shows you have not read any of the posts/replies i've made about this situationa and similar ask. I have explained my opinion on this multiple times and this is the last time i'm actually responding to an ask like this bc this shit is getting exhausting.

The reason people didn't congratulate dream for coming out is bc he made a vague ass tweet that was in a joking tone so people suddenly congratulating him on it would be weird and also how the fuck was anyone supposed to know that was his coming out tweet.

also let's not forget he was in the middle of a controversy for being racist and islamophobic so let's not twist what's going on here. Obviously people are gonna be more concentrated on that.

Dream is unlabeled, hes not gay and hes not straight, he has never referred to himself as queer so that's where that conversation should end. Neither I or Cy feel like thats productive anyway.

No i do not think dream doesnt get enough hate. And if you actually read what i’ve said about this before you’d know. 

I do not like dsmp antis I know how they are and have had to deal with them a lot. Also I don't think hate is productive in general it should be critisism instead but on top of that i think half the hate he gets is bullshit bc those people dont know what the fuck theyre talking about and are derailing the very much needed conversation on the topic of holding dream accountable.

I know dream got doxxed i do not condone doxxing but him getting doxxed does not suddenly erase the harm his actions have caused. The dreamout hastag started out of genuine critisism and hurt the minorities he’s harmed felt and only after like a day got overrun by doxxers. I don’t think anyone deserves to be doxxed but let’s not act like the dreamout thing was malicious from the start.

also you dont know shit about what i think bc you obviously have not read a word i’ve written on this blog and if you have you’re just ignoring it so keep the condescending wording to yourself. He does get away with shit bc no one properly discusses what he does wrong.

dsmp antis dont even understand the situation and parrot it back without knowing what the fuck happened, completley ruining all (non-existing) chances people of colour, muslims and queer dsmp fans had to express their own opinions in peace, while stans just deny and justify anything that happened, twisting whatever is said to just force everyone to forget what the original discussion even was about and crying about how unfair it all is and how their poor little dreamie baby is getting undeserved hate now from evil POC who hate him for no reason at all :(((((((

He did not fucking properly address anything but honestly could not care less if you disagree with me on that at this point ive had to re-explain why i think that like 4 times before just scroll down the blog. 

I have acknowlegded the fact that it has blown out of proportion and that dream antis are extreme before but it still doesnt fucking solve the problem. Which is dreams harmful behaviour. 

Also yeah no shit making a kkk edit and an osama bin laden edit stained his reputation, what the fuck are you even on about jesus fucking christ. I’d hope that would stain his reputation and i hope no one forgets that, even though it seems you already have forgotten the islamophobic part of it since you didnt mention it once. 

Also last thing I'm gonna say on this. The edits existing for years and people knowing about it doesn't make it less real or harmful. He made the edits he lied about it, tried to excuse it, tried to push of part of the responsibility that comes with owning up to it and he got away with it.

My opinion is clear and I'm tired of constantly having to clarify it.

[eddiesfaerie]

Going Under

Summary: As an undercover detective, it’s not unusual to break a few rules to get some classified intel. You just can’t seem to figure out why Flip Zimmerman would want to help you out. (5.3k words)

Warnings: possible spoilers for Blackkklansman, angst, mentions of KKK, mentions of police, mentions of gun violence, period related sexism i guess, f!reader, enemies to lovers?, pissed + jealous Flip :) 

A/N: thank you all for the sweet comments (listed below along with the prompts), and so sorry for how long this took to write, I have 3 prompts combined here and I think i’m pretty happy with how it turned out:) i hope it’s okay that i reworded some of the prompts just so that they fit in better. i hope you enjoy <3

Based on:

Congratulations on your 300!!!! I’d love to request these prompts with Flip, if you’re feelin it! 2 and 4 from the angst prompts list and 5 and 15 from the types of kisses prompt list. Thank you!

from the angst prompts list “Isn’t it obvious? I’m in love with you!” with flip?? You’re such an amazing writer im here every damn day 🥺🥰

Kisses #45 and “you’re driving me fucking insane.” For Flip, if you’re still taking requests, please! Your writing is fantastic! :)

Skin tight and sparkling, dazzling too. This was not your usual work attire.

Well, this wasn’t your typical work outing either.

An informant had come forward, said he had intel on the KKK and their next meeting. Information even Flip (an undercover infiltrator himself) wasn’t aware of. You couldn’t pass it up. And you didn’t want to give up your informant to the precinct, so you decided against telling anyone about your meeting with him.

It was probably a bad idea to have gone back to the office to grab your audio recorder in the outfit you decided to wear to your meeting.

Because of course, the only man who ever stays this late at work, hunched over files and files of names, dates, events, anything relating to his case with the KKK, was here.

Flip Zimmerman.

You thought you could walk by him without catching his attention. You thought if you stayed in the darkness of the hallway, swallowed by the shadows he wouldn’t notice you. But Flip was good at that, he was good at noticing things.

The sequins of your dress reflected the light from his desk lamp, catching your silhouette in the dark hallway. You fucking siren, what were you up to?

“Detective.” He called out to you from his desk, all too cooly with a cigarette bobbing between his lips. He hadn’t even looked up at you. You tried not to flinch at his sudden firm voice, booming at you and jumping your bones.

“Zimmerman.” You waved, stopping in your tracts, lifting a hand to him and waving dumbly.

He finally looks up from his coffee stained files, making direct eye contact with you. A sly smile stretching across his face as he leans back in his chair, his eyes raking up and down your body as you move closer to him, settling awkwardly against the doorframe. He takes a particularly long drag from his cigarette.

“Whoowee, where you headed looking like that?” He asked through his smile, glancing at his watch to catch the time. It was getting close to midnight.

“Just… out.”

“Oh yeah? What’d you have to come back here for? Needed some pepper spray in case the guy tries something?” He’s intrigued now, questioning you like he would an informant. He leans forward on his desk, resting his weight on his forearms, cigarette between his long fingers now. You play along, laughing with him. Fighting the urge to roll your eyes.

“Yeah, something like that.” Flip nods, chuckling to himself as he brings his cigarette back up to his lips, taking another long drag. You try to look away as he blows smoke out of his nose. He stands up from his desk, walking slowly over to you in the doorway.

“Cute.” He nearly sneers, taunting you. “Now why don’t you tell me what’s really going on, hmm?”

“I’m just-”

“I saw you grabbing the audio recorder.” He says, shutting you down. Defeated, you sigh rather loudly, your shoulders sagging as you run a hand down your face.

“I’m meeting an informant.” You try to keep it short and sweet, hoping he won’t pry but Flip just raises his eyebrows, signaling you to continue. You sigh again. “He’s giving me intel on KKK activity, a possible outing that’s coming up.” Flip rolls his eyes.

“Rookie listen... I’m the one who gets KKK intel around here. What does he know that I don’t?” You shrug your shoulders, trying not to let the dumb nickname ‘rookie’ sting as he spits it at you.

“All he told me was that there’s something going on this week that’s really hush-hush, even between members. He couldn’t elaborate more than that over the phone so I agreed to meet him at a bar.”

“Alone?”

“I can handle myself, Zimmerman.” Now you roll your eyes, you hated how much he doubted you, he always had. You were just really good at ignoring him, ignoring his stares and comments. Usually.

“Do you have any idea how fucking stupid that is? These people are sick, they’re not right in the head. I’m… I’m coming.”

“What? No, Flip I’ll be-”

“I’m coming. This isn’t up for debate... Wait here, I’m gonna go get you a microphone.”

You fought the whole way to his truck, which he insisted on taking. You told him he would blow your cover, you told him he would make things obvious, probably scare the guy. You told him that maybe he would recognize him, recognize him as ‘Ron’. Flip didn’t say shit in response, just opened the passenger door for you and jogged to the driver’s seat, lighting up a new cigarette as he drove you two to the bar.

The car ride was tense, you fidgeted with the hem of your dress, acutely aware of how much skin you were showing, you could feel Flip’s burning eyes on you as he stole glances every now and then.

“You’re unbelievable.” You huffed, crossing your arms and looking out the window, trying to keep your mind focused on the mission.

“What was that?”

“I said you’re unbelievable. Somehow you’re going to manage to get all the credit for this too.” Flip brows furrowed in confusion, he turned to look at you properly for the first time since you two got in the car. He said your name but you averted his gaze as soon as your eyes met. A fleeting moment of tenderness passed through him.

“Doll, what are you talking ab-”

“We’re here.” You’re thankful for the switch of subject as you sit up suddenly in your seat, unbuckling your seatbelt and leaning forward to look into the place. You had no idea what the guy looked like. You assumed he would approach you once you were inside. Flip parked further down the street, on the opposite side. Thankfully it was a one way street so a get away, if necessary, would be easy.

“Hey don’t just jump out, the fuck-”

“Hand me the mic.” You said with urgency. Flip felt flustered watching you move, the way your breasts pressed against the fabric of your tiny dress, the soft swell of flesh at the perimeter of the shiny fabric, begging to be kissed, touched. He shuddered but turned quickly to hand you the mic kit, grabbing the headphones for himself.

You lifted your dress carefully so as not to expose your entire body to him. You pressed the microphone right in between your breasts but underneath the fabric, right above your belly button. Flip sucked on his cigarette, watching for a moment too long before turning his head away, giving you some privacy. You muttered a tiny ‘thanks’. Flip just nodded, gaze averted as he stared out his window into the dead of night, images of your body burning into the back of his mind. Fuck, you looked so soft, so pretty. You shouldn’t be doing this...

Once you were done tapping the mic to your flesh, you secured the battery pack to your underwear. Thankfully it was thin enough to not cause too much of an obvious bump in your silhouette, the informant wouldn’t notice, not that he would really mind. He probably knew you would be recording something but he wasn’t the problem. KKK members were everywhere, they blended in, they could be anyone. You had to be sneaky, hide away from prying eyes that look for detectives, for cops.

But you were good, you were good at being sneaky, conniving. That’s why you were hired. Tonight, you would just look like you were on a friendly date.

You opened the car door, your heels clacking against the concrete. You close the car door quietly behind you, nodding at Flip before heading inside. Flip was easily more nervous than you were. He had experienced these guys first hand, you hadn’t. He knew how fucked up they truly were, how sick and twisted their minds were. Not only did they not trust anyone who didn’t look like them, they were weary of newbies too, white folks just like them.

Images flash in his mind of Felix holding him at gunpoint in his stale basement, threatening to pull the trigger if he didn’t prove he wasn’t circumcised, prove he wasn’t Jewish. Flip thought he was going to die that day. Truly thought he was going to be killed by some nazi in a basement. But Ron saved him, Ron sacrificed himself and saved the whole mission. Flip hoped it didn’t come to it tonight but if it did, he hoped he could save you too.

Chatter on the radio filled his headphones, cutting off his looming thoughts. Your sweet voice filled his head, surrounded him, nearly throwing him off balance in his seat. He tried to look into the bar, to see if he could see you from where he was parked but to no avail. You had sat somewhere out of eyesight and that made Flip nervous. He would have to work based on the tone of your voice, he’d have to judge for himself if you were in danger.

“Hey, George right?”

“Nope, but that’s the name I gave ya.” The guy chuckled. Flip didn’t recognize the voice, probably someone he hadn’t met, it did nothing to calm his nerves. “Didn’t think the name you gave me was yer own so, figured I’d play yer little game, right Pamela?”

Pamela. If Flip wasn’t so high strung, he would’ve laughed at that.

It must have been what? Only last week that he and some of the guys were briefly discussing Pamela Anderson after catching Jimmy reading a magazine she was featured in, teasing him about it, perhaps making too many lewd comments. Maybe you had caught that. Maybe it was a coincidence. Either way, Flip was flustered beyond belief.

You laughed anyways at ‘George’s’ comment, the sound made Flip feel drunk.

“So, what do you have for me George?”

“Now now darlin’, what’s the rush? Why don’t we get somethin’ t’ drink first?” You laughed again, fabric rustling too loudly.

“Sure... I’ll just have a Coke.” You say dismissively. Flip can hear ‘George’ ordering in the background while you seem to fidget around, maybe adjusting your dress.

The conversation progressed at a frustrating pace. The informant kept swerving around your questions, ordering too many drinks which made his sentences harder to understand, and that deep southern accent of his wasn’t helping his case either. Flip could hear the anger and frustration seeping into your voice, coating your words with a vicious bite and a sickeningly sweet laugh, trying to play it off cooly as to not give away your cover. There were too many fucking rednecks in this part of town.

On his fourth drink, ‘George’ started letting his hand wander over to yours which rested on the bar countertop. You could tell he thought he was being real smooth, letting his fingers just graze ever so slightly over yours, followed by a gentle tap of his hand over the back of your palm, then he started leaving it there, running his thumb over your soft skin. It made your skin burn, not in that pleasant way but in the way that makes your stomach feel like it’s about to churn your Coke up your throat and out of your mouth, onto his nice shoes.

The worst part is you let him touch you, you let him get handsy all in the hopes of gaining information. Don’t blow your cover, don’t blow your cover, don’t blow your cover.

“So…” you start, stretching casually, trying to rid your body of his grabby hands. “I hear Mr. Duke is supposed to be making an appearance, sometime at the end of this month right?” George nodded, reaching his hand over to you again, clearly he only had one thing on his mind, and that was not David Duke.

“Yeah darlin’, he sure is. I’m sure he’d like to meet somethin’ as pretty as you. I’m sure he’d like to show ya what the organization is really capable of… they’re gonna make things go boom.” His hand had managed to slither itself around your waist, pinching your skin through the dress. He was practically standing next to you now, breathing down your neck.

Even Flip, who still sat all the way outside in his truck, could tell he was standing closer to you now based on the way his voice had moved in regards to the placement of your mic. It was coming in almost exactly where yours was. Was he hovering over you now? Touching you? He heard loud rustling, a clear agitation of the microphone taped above your belly button, how handsy was he getting? Flip’s heart started beating faster as he weighed his options, unsure of what to do, how to go about this situation stealthily.

“What do you mean, make things go boom?” You asked, bless your fucking heart, still going along with the mission. Still trying to coax answers out of this man who did not give one single shit about you or the information he promised. The more Flip thought about it, the more he realized this guy was probably just using you to go out on a date with someone way out of his league. George chuckled darkly, the sound disgusted both you and Flip.

“Why don’t I… explain it to ya real nice and real slow in the bathroom-” Flip flung the headphone off his head, grabbed his pistol and jammed it into the back of his jeans, making sure his flannel covered it as he secured it in his belt. He threw his hat on, tucking it low over his eyes and ran into the bar, only slowing down to a saunter when he entered. Be fucking casual.

He got the slightest glimpse of a man entering the bathroom before he disappeared behind the closed door, and then he saw you, shining in the dark light of this dingy bar like you had a god damn halo around your head, perched perfectly on the stool like you weren’t having the worst time of your fucking life. You made wide eyes at Flip, shooing him away with a flick of your wrist but he just marched right up to you, grabbing the hand you were trying to motion him away with.

“Fli- what the fuck?” You whisper yelled at him, nearly saying his real name. You glanced over at the bathroom door that ‘George’ so confidently stormed into, so sure that you were hot on his trails, so into the idea of him fucking you. You felt sick to your stomach.

“Come on Pamela, we’re leaving. This is over.” You glared at him, squinting your eyes, shooting fake lasers at him as hard as you could.

“But I can still get something out of him, let me-”

“I don’t think you and ‘George’ have the same idea of what it is exactly you’re going to be getting out of him tonight.” Flip glared, his fist clenching around your wrist, so small in his grasp. His eyes were filled with an emotion you didn’t think Flip was capable of feeling, fear.

“Let’s fucking go, pumpkin.” He spat the nickname out at you, it was better than rookie, but it still felt like a slap in the face coming from him in that menacing, annoyed tone.

You abandoned the mission. You let him drag you out of there, ‘George’ being none the wiser as he probably jacked off, alone in a stall with no one waiting for him on the other side of that door anymore. You didn’t feel bad, you just couldn’t help but think of what a pathetic situation this was, how stupid you had been to think this would work.

You thought about what could have happened if Flip wasn’t there to come knock you to your senses and out of your own stupid fucking naveity. You bet he got some weird, sick pleasure from watching you fail, maybe he felt guilty and felt the need to put an end to your suffering. He was always two steps ahead of everyone anyways.

“What the fuck is your problem?” You yell at him once you’re finally outside, standing next to his truck. You rip your hand from the vice grip he had you in, Flip only turning around to glare at you when you do so.

“What the fuck is my problem? Rookie, he had his hands all over you, you were just gonna let that slide? Let him have his way with you?”

“Why do you care how I get my intel? I could have gotten something good, something useful.”

“Hmmm, sure. You go ahead, believe that. Keep indulging yourself in that fucking fantasy. He just wanted to fuck you!” He yells, voice booming down the street and it startles you, quite literally knocking you off your feet. You stumble backwards, stumble away from him.

Flip leans back against the side of his truck, pressing his palms into his eyes, trying to shut everything out, regain control. He didn’t mean to yell, really, he didn’t mean to. He just couldn’t stop the images flashing in his mind, ones of you sitting pretty while that faceless creep put his hands all over you, touching you, groping you.

He groaned something into his hands, unintelligible to you. You rolled your eyes at whatever it was he said and took a few steps forward until your hand rested on the car door handle.

“Let’s just go, Flip. Before he comes back out and notices I’m gone.” You say, voice much quieter now, gentler, smaller. It surprises Flip, he wasn’t expecting you to back down from a fight with him so soon.

You two always had such charged energy at the office whenever you were forced to interact, it came out in sharp comments from Flip and icy glares from you. You were getting sick of it if you were being honest. Flip sort of was too, tired of all the unnecessary coldness he always approached you with. Maybe he was just covering something up, repressing something.

But Flip nods his head and walks to the driver's side, starting the engine and driving back to the station.

The ride is quiet, much like the ride over except now you’re trying to stop your lip from trembling and your eyes from fluttering shut, threatening to spill the tears that well up in your eyes. How could you be so fucking stupid? How could this have worked? How could tonight have gone the way you thought it would?

“I’m sorry.” That low, baritone voice grumbles from the driver’s seat. You wipe your tears away that managed to fall with the back of your hand, turning to look at Flip in confusion.

“For what?” Knowing tonight would be a disaster? Knowing that you would’ve fucked something up eventually?

“That tonight didn’t go the way you wanted it to.” He kept his gaze ahead, not daring to turn and look at you in that dress with that sad expression on your face. He knew it would break him, make him say things he wouldn’t dare admit, say aloud. “I ruined it. I’m sorry that I fucked up the mission.”

That you were not expecting. Detective Flip Zimmerman apologizing to you. You. Of all people.

“It’s fine… you were right afterall I just… I just didn’t want to believe it. I wanted to do this myself, you know.” You shrug, as if it was no big deal. You wipe another tear that falls and Flip looks then, that fateful moment that he allows himself to look at you.

Eyes shiny, wet and big, looking right back at him, into him. Lips swollen, puffy. You sniffle, pulling your lips taught for a moment before they go back to their resting place, begging to be bitten, licked. Your chest moves gracefully somehow as small hiccups wracked your diaphragm and lungs, making it heave slightly as you try to restrain your sobs. Flip thinks he nearly crashes his truck, but he doesn’t, and you say,

“We’re here.” And he nearly gets whiplash from what a déjà vu this is. Reminds him of the beginning of the night when he had no idea what was in store. Somehow he even managed to park without realizing.

“No, I… I shouldn’t have been right. He shouldn't have acted that way. I just- when I could tell he was touching you… no one should touch you like that, not if you don’t want them to.” You sit there flustered, listening to him go on, voice low like the volume on the radio that you didn’t even notice had been turned on this whole time. You’re astonished. You can’t believe this is the Flip you know, standing up for you, advocating for you.

Flip sees the way you’re looking at him and hell, he’s just as surprised as you are. Suddenly embarrassed for going on such a tangent, he unbuckles himself and steps out of the car. You follow quickly behind him, his strides long and fast with those legs of his. You head into the building and follow him into the storage room so you can remove the mostly useless tape from tonight and return the audio recorder and mic that you borrowed.

The room is dark, stuffy from not being used in hours, the windows shut tight. Flip switches on a little desk lamp and you get to work removing the tape from your body. First, you unclip the battery pack, pulling the wire out from your dress and then your only left with the taped part.

You rip it off like a bandage, only a small noise being emitted from your throat at the sweet burn it left in its trail. That red mark would take hours to disappear, you would have to moisturize it when you got home.

“You good?” Flip asks, barely looking up from what he was doing, which was removing the audio tape from the recorder, writing down the date and names on it before storing it away to be reviewed tomorrow.

Questions burn on your tongue, wondering why he decided to help you tonight. Why he ‘came to the rescue’, why he felt the need to involve himself in something he could have just left alone. Something he could have just not asked about when you ran into him earlier this evening. Why did he-

“Why do you hate me?” You settle on, ignoring his question and shooting one back at him as you place the mic back in it’s box. He finally looked up at you, completely puzzled, like before. You roll your eyes, surely he must know what you mean. How could he think that you didn’t know how he hated you.

“Come on, Flip. I’m not in the mood for games, just answer the question.” You frown, shaking your head. It pounded and throbbed from the inside out, you felt like your head could truly combust right now. You just wanted this night to be over with, you wanted to go home and wash it away.

“You think I would have done that if I hated you?”

“You can still hate me and be a decent person.” You spit, turning away from him and willing your brain to stop creating more and more tears. They stung in your eyes, begging to be set free but you didn’t want Flip to see you cry, didn’t want him to know he could do that to you. You were just tired, emotionally drained.

A large warm hand placed itself on the small of your back, its warmth quickly travelling throughout your body like wildfire. Flip’s hand doesn’t wander, it stays put, just letting you know he’s there.

“I don’t hate you, Rookie-”

“Stop calling me that.” You whisper, voice so small, squeezing your eyes shut, willing, willing, willing the tears away.

And then Flip says your name, possibly for the first time all night. And it fucking breaks you. His voice, so soft, gentle even. Quiet to not alarm you, the words caressing your ears, kissing your flesh. You want to melt into him, you don’t know why but you do. You want to stop fighting this…

You turned around to face him, his dark eyes boring into yours. He was much closer than you expected him to be. His hand hadn’t moved from its place, where it once rested on your lower back, now it grazed your hip, ghosting above the perimeter of your body like he was scared to touch you, frightened.

“You drive me fucking insane… but I don’t hate you.” His voice was quiet too, just like your own. Like the two of you were afraid to speak too loud because it would shake the dust off all these old files, awaken the ghosts.

“You drive me fucking insane too.” You want to laugh, you really do. Maybe you never hated him, maybe he never hated you. Maybe you made it all up, confusing one kind of tension for another. Maybe you really were naive, stupid.

His hand wraps itself around your waist, the other coming to do the same nervously. They truly engulf you, his hands. Big, warm and strong, they pull you closer to him and you gasp when your bodies collide.

“Flip-”

“When I heard him… when I heard how he was talking to you I just, I don’t know.” Flip takes a deep breath, letting his head lean down so that his forehead rests against yours. The intimacy startles you. You want to pull away from him but.

But you don’t. Instead you bring your arms up to hold the sides of his strong neck, feeling his pulse thrumming against your palm. What was happening? What were you doing-

“You, in this dress… fuck. I would have killed him if-if… He didn’t deserve to see you in this, didn’t fucking deserve to know what it feels like to touch you in it…” Flip’s voice trails off, it was quiet to begin with. His hands clutch the fabric at your waist, as if trying to draw you in closer to him, and you’re left speechless, just watching in awe as he works through his thoughts. That familiar crease between his brows appearing. You find yourself wanting to smooth it away, whether it be with your fingers or your lips you don’t care. You just- you just want to show him something other than that coolness you always give him. You want to be warm for him.

“And you do? You deserve it?” You tempt, not sure why you’re even bothering stepping on his toes at this point. You suppose old habits die hard.

“You tell me.” He whispered, nudging his nose into yours and you gasp quietly, your breath fanning across his lips and he swears he could just melt into you right now, if that’s what you wanted. If you’d let him.

And you… you’re still too dumb to know what it is you want, too naive to give in, to melt into his hands. After what happened tonight, you’re scared, scared of how easily things can go wrong in ways you never could have foreseen.

But Flip saw.

Flip noticed.

Flip was there. Maybe you two would make a good team...

Taking a chance, you let your hands move to wrap your arms around his neck, nuzzling your nose into his before… before Flip lets you make your move, lets you come onto him, safe in his arms. He holds you so, so close as you let your lips brush against his, breathing him in, still deciding.

So indecisive, Flip thinks. He would laugh at you right now if you didn’t have him completely wrapped around your finger, hanging on your every move, waiting, waiting for you to take what you need from him.

You press into him, with your body and your lips, letting him hold you as close as he possibly could. Flip sighs against your lips, melting into your touch as your fingers comb themselves into his hair, tugging when you reach the ends. He groans, folding over you, tilting his head and opening his mouth for you, he runs his tongue against your closed lips. Asking.

Yes, you want to say, you want to yell, scream it at him. But all you do is moan pathetically into his mouth as you open up for him, blooming like a flower as his tongue dances over yours, pressing into your mouth, deeper, deeper. Flip groans too, he needed this as much as you did.

Whether it was from the frustration of tonight’s events or the tension that had been pulled tight between the two of you like a tightrope, building for months and months on end, but both of you cracked underneath the pressure of the night.

As Flip worked his jaw on you, he stumbled, falling into you, pushing you back until your ass hit the desk behind you, making it scrape and screech across the floor. Files flew off, pens scattered, rolling across the floor, even the lamp rocked back and forth, back and forth with the force Flip tackled you with. You whimpered into his mouth, letting him move you how he pleased.

You felt his hands slither down your body with haste, stopping only to grab at your ass through your dress. His big hands wrapped around the back of your thighs, hoisting you up until you sat perched on the desk, your legs parting all too easily for him to stand between, pressing his body flush against yours.

Flip continued to devour you, you put in as much effort as you could but you felt weak, dumb with the way his mouth was so soft and warm on yours, his stupidly perfect lips so wet and soft, gliding effortlessly against your own. Like he was made to kiss you.

You lost yourself in his kiss, in his caress, in his touch. You let him hold you, shift you however he wanted, you felt like you were in some old classic movie with the way he was kissing you, with so much passion, so much vigour.

As you dove deeper into him, your inhibitions fell further and further away. You tugged at his hair, pressing his face into yours so that his nose was pressed firmly into your cheek. Teeth grazing his plump bottom lip, you entertained the idea of biting into the supple skin for all of two seconds before you indulged yourself in the sick pleasure. Flip groaned, loud into your mouth as you sunk your teeth into his lip, only letting it go for him to pull back and stare at you with an abyss for eyes. His lip was swollen, you could practically see the blood rushing to the bitten area, making it redder, juicer. You did that to him. Flip growled, pressing his hips and his forehead into yours, both of you trying to regain your breath.

“Did I mention how sorry I was?” Flip said darkly, voice rumbling with lust, deep in his chest. You felt it reverberate into you, it made you shiver. That and the way he was looking at you made you want to… to be good for him. Submit. Listen to him for once.

You nod your head, so breathless as you looked up at him. He was so much bigger than you and your neck was beginning to hurt from all the straining you had to do to keep your lips pressed firmly to his.

“Do you hate me?” Flip asks now, his turn to get an answer. His hand rests against your neck, fingers grazing your jawline from how big it is, wrapping around you too easily. You never wanted him to let go. You bite your lip and eyes still looking up at him, chest heaving, hard.

“No, I… I think the opposite actually.”

Part 2?