i genuinely encourage non black people to engage with this, who might be worried they can't because of the word "nigga" because they feel like it's overstepping. the only way it would be overstepping is saying it to me when ur not black, but please don't be afraid to engage with black art.
i kinda get annoyed when non black people police other non blacks on how to engage with black culture because it creates a problem where non black people avoid us all together which can be extremely isolating and create even MORE tension and overall being uneducated.
I can't believe they fucking terminated wolfertinger. I mean I can believe it because staff hates trans people but like damn. You will be missed. Please come back
My mother is dying. Iâm not exaggerating.
We are still thousands away, and time is running out.
Iâm terrified Iâll lose her before we reach the goal.
$30 from 120 people could change my motherâs life today.
Please donât scroll past this. Donate. Reblog. Do something.
I cannot lose my mother because we ran out of time.
Donate here PayPal Verified fundraiser
Shared by @/90-ghost (also here), shared by @/bilal-salah7. Her original fundraiser was shared by @/gaza-evacuation-funds, #392 on vetted list by el-shab-hussein, nabulsi, and MohAyesh, shared by bilal-salah0, #1197 on Butterfly Effect Project vetted list, shared by 90-ghost, but she had to create a new campaign because she was scammed
Maiâs mother's health is very poor because she just had a heart device implanted before the war, but the device has been malfunctioning and they cannot afford medical treatment. Her brother suffered a severe injury to his hand and had to get 80 stitches. He requires physical therapy to use his hand.
I know weâre all like lawless nonconformists but you really canât be texting and driving. thatâs one of the ones youâve gotta listen to for real
Actually, no Iâm not gonna keep my commentary to the tags.
This was my parentsâ car after being plowed into by a pickup truck driver who was too busy on his phone to see the only other car on the rural road they were on. This crash nearly killed my parents, landed them in the hospital and rehab for months, and permanently disabled them.
PUT THE FUCKING PHONE AWAY WHILE YOUâRE BEHIND THE WHEEL. WHATEVER YOU ARE DOING ON IT IS NOT WORTH YOUR LIFE OR THAT OF ANOTHER PERSONâS.
big fan of the recent trend ive noticed of people adding flaming text of the original word over censored words in posts. do NOT sanitize the internet. say fuck with your chest
So just so we're all clear ICE agent Jonathan Ross straight up murdered Renee Nicole Good in broad daylight and the government is calling HER the terrorist
i dont know who needs to hear this but you do not need to go on a diet. you do not need to lose weight as a new year resolution. you do not need to feel shame for gaining any weight over the holidays and for enjoying yourself and the food. you do not need to tolerate diet talk after setting a boundary and if someone cant respect that then theyre being the asshole. you already have a summer body. you already are hot. theres no moral failure or shame in being fat
some people think writers are so eloquent and good with words, but the reality is that we can sit there with our fingers on the keyboard going, âwhatâs the word for non-sunlight lighting? Like, fake lighting?â and for ten minutes, all our brain will supply is âunofficialâ, and we know thatâs not the right word, but itâs the only word we can come up withâŠuntil finally itâs like our face got smashed into a brick wall and we remember the word we want is âartificialâ.
sorry if i'm gonna be quiet for a while. my country recently introduced laws that make it so that in order to use social media to the fullest (not being able to view ns/fw content and in a few cases, not even having access to dms), i HAVE to give the sites my id/face scan.
it goes into effect july 25th. it'll probably effect here too, since this place allows mature content (tho not full on ns/fw)
i'm very distressed about it bc i might end up not even being able to talk to my internet friends. i don't really have any irl ones
if i have to disappear on most socials by then, you know why.
if you're in the uk like i am there IS a petition to sign on the official gov petitions website asking to consider repealing this law. it currently has almost 8k signatures and needs 10k in order for the government to even acknowledge it (and 100k for them to debate it)
idk if i can post it here but please... go sign it! and go write to your local mp if possible. they need to realize how dangerous this law is going to be for uk citizens online. it doesn't protect children, it's just privacy invading AND a huge security risk to boot
Ao3 does not need a 1-5 star rating system, you just want to bring down authors writing for FREE
Ao3 does not need automatic censorship, it is an archive, therefore anything can be posted
Writing or reading about something illegal does not mean the author nor the reader condones it, if that were true, you could never read a story involving anything negative
Purity culture is ruining fan culture and you all are fucking annoying
Currently I am looking through 34 pages of one shipping with filters on. I donât need an algorithm for that?? I enjoy taking my time, reading every description and looking at the tags. This is my escape from all the algorithms. Let me browse. Let me make conscious choices. Please.
Warnings: 18+, canon gore/violence, medical jargon, vomit, guns, language
Word Count: 2k
Author's Note: Haven't written in a while and haven't written for Wesker but damn I had a good idea and I hope it does well! Based off the Walking Dead
__________
The room is freezing by the time you awoke struggling for air, a plastic tube blocking your airway as you pull it out, coughs wracking through your body as your throat burns. Sucking in gulps of air, you manage to gain back autonomy of your body as your heart rate calms down. As you calm down, your eyes trace around the room, dark and cold, as if no one has entered in some time. A vase containing flowers, wilted, rests on the bedside table with a knocked over note.
Piquing your interest, your hand reaches out for the note, bringing it closer for you to read in the dark light.
Get well soon. I miss you.
-Al
The note is short and terse, not like you expected any differently from your captain and lover. What you donât expect is that the room is dusty and the flowers wilted. Something Albert Wesker would have rectified the second he noticed it. Leaving you to one conclusion, he hasnât seen you in a while.
The thought of being abandoned by him causes your heart to sink in your chest, but with another look around the room itâs clear no one has been in here in a while. So what happened?
Last thing you remembered was being shot in the chest and falling to the ground while Chris shot the perp. The bullet proof vest did little to block the impact of the bullet as it ripped through you. From there, you can remember flashing lights, Wesker looking down at you with his eyebrows creased in a way that shows his worry, a mask going over your face, and then, nothing. How long has it been?
With a grunt, you manage to rip out the various IVs and catheters that have no use, leaving a mess in its wake. âI need a shower,â as you move to stand up, gravity wins and you fall down, barely breaking the fall with your arms. âShit.â
The shower is ice cold but it does the trick to get rid of the grime that had accumulated from weeks of bed rest. At least you assume itâs been weeks. Grabbing your bag of clothes from under the bed, a medium size case with a note topples out on top.
I do hope you get this before someone else does.
Trust me and take the medicine.
-Al
Just what is going on? Shaking the confusion from your head, you follow his directions and open the case, a vial and a syringe neatly placed inside with your glock and 3 mags of bullets.Â
Inject the green vial into your neck.
Itâs simple enough instructions and despite not knowing what it is that youâre injecting into your neck, your trust in Albert outweighs your curiosity of what it is. Inserting the needle into your neck, you shiver as you press the injector, nearly gagging at the feeling of the medicine entering your body. After a minute, a surge of nausea takes over you, causing you to empty the contents of your stomach, clear fluid pooling onto the floor.Â
Wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, your eyes look at the syringe with doubt. âWhat the hell is that?â Struggling to stand up, a series of rounds of gunfire snaps your attention to the door. Youâre not alone. âShit.â It doesnât take you long to get dressed before youâre stepping out of the room, glock in one hand and a flashlight in another as you take in the view of the hallway. What was once sterile and clean was now filled with various debris and overturned furniture that accompanies a rotting scent that causes your stomach to do flips.Â
The empty halls echo various sounds, including the gunfire and snarls. Gripping your gun a little tighter you round the corner as the gunfire grows closer. Maybe whoever is in the building can help you understand exactly what is going on.Â
âFreeze! Donât move!â A masculine voice calls out from further down the hallway and you can barely make out the glint of his gun, pointed at you. Raising your hands in surrender, a bullet rips past your head and into something behind you where a thud follows. Whipping your head around, your eyes land on a woman, maybe a little older than yourself, but the horror of seeing someone just murdered in cold blood covers over the fact that the woman herself is rotting.
âWhat the fuck?â The man doesnât acknowledge you as he rushes past, placing two more bullets in the head of the woman. Satisfied with his work, he turns to you, gun pointed at you.Â
âAre you bit?â
âWhat?â
âHave you been bit? Are you infected?â Infected? Bit?
âWhat is going on? Infected with what?â His face softens as he lowers his gun, quickly gazing around the area for any more threats.Â
âThose things, theyâre not people. Theyâre not entirely alive.â Pausing for you to catch up, he sighs as you try to wrap it around your head. âTheyâre zombies. Where the hell have you been?â
âZombies.â Eyes flicker back down to the woman as you take in her appearance, skin practically molted off and eyes glazed over. Whoever she had been was not the person that now lays dead on the floor.
âSo, who are you?âÂ
Your eyes flick back up to him, taking in his appearance. The man before you canât be no older than 25 with a muscular build and shaggy hair that grazes his eyebrows. His arms are bare, showcasing some cuts that seem fresh while the rest of his body is covered in tactical gear. In one hand lies his gun and in another holds a briefcase. Heâs obviously here on a mission, what great luck that you have to find him. âLieutenant (Y/N) (Y/L/N), S.T.A.R.S,â at the mention of S.T.A.R.S, his eyes light up.Â
âOh boy, I found one of your members. I got to get this case back to her because sheâs sick and whatever is in here will help her.â You feel guilty that your heart sinks at the announcement that itâs one of your female companions and not your lover, but at least it narrows who he found down to two.Â
â-------
You and Carlos, whose name you found out, make it back to the room where they had holed up in record time, instantly running to Jillâs side. âJill, itâs (Y/N). Youâre going to be ok, Carlos is going to get you cured,â your hand runs over her hair in an attempt to soothe her though you know she probably canât feel it.Â
âAll right, here it goes,â Carlos injects the serum into Jill. âThis shit better work.â Nothing happens and your heart drops. Had you caused Carlos to be too late? Your thoughts are interrupted as a man bursts through the door, looking worse for wear as he clutches his side. âJesus Tyrell, what happened?â The man doesnât make a comment as he grabs the remote from the shelf, turning on the tv.
âAttention all citizens. The contagion spreading throughout the city has been designated uncontainable. On October 1, Raccoon City will be completely destroyed in a missile strike. All residents capable of rational thought are urged to leave immediately.â Your blood runs cold. Is this seriously how you are going to go out? A missile strike? Your attention turns back to Jill, pressing a cloth against her head to dry the sweat as the two men continue to talk to each other.Â
âCome on Jill, wake your ass up.â
âShit here they come,â Tyrell begins to sit up but Carlos pushes him back down.
âI got this,â his eyes land on you and Jill. âDo you got her covered?â
âYes, are you going to need help?â His hair moves with each shake of his head.
âNo, make sure she doesnât die,â he doesnât comment more on the matter before heâs out the door, pushing various blocks of furniture against the door as a barricade, trapping you, Tyrell and Jill.
â------
Minutes pass as you frantically look between Jill and the door that blocks you from the rapid gunfire and snarls that lay outside. Why did this have to happen to you? Have you really been in a coma for that long? Why didnât Albert come and get you?Â
Your questions go unanswered as Jill groans beside you, blue eyes blinking the haze away as she sits up, rubbing her eyes. âWhat happened?â
âJill?â Her head turns toward you in confusion as if she couldnât believe that youâre next to her.
â(Y/N)? Youâre alive?âÂ
She moves to sit up, grunting in pain while you aid her, a hand firm on her back as you sit next to her. âIn the flesh. I just woke up today.â Her eyes widen as if sheâs seen a ghost. In denial, she shakes her head, hair bobbing with each movement.
âNo, thatâs impossible. You were in a coma. How?â
âI donât know,â youâve been wondering that since you woke up. Judging by the date youâve been out for at least 3 months and judging from what Carlos had told you about the outbreak, the hospital has been deserted for two weeks. âWhat happened to the others?â Her face drops as she looks away, tears threatening to spill from her blue eyes.
âMost of them didnât make it. The ones that did, I donât know where they are.â Your heart drops. Albert is dead?
âWesker?â At the mention of your shared captain her face turns sour as if you had just given her a lemon.Â
âThat traitor.â
âWhat?â
âHeâs been working for Umbrella this whole time. Everyone has died because of him.â
Your heart hammers against your ribcage while your head spins. What does she mean that heâs responsible for peopleâs deaths? Albert would never. Sure he is a cold and calculating man, but the man that you love would never. âI donât believe you.â
She lets out a terse laugh that ridicules your stance. âOh believe it. He made the virus. He and Birkin make the virus that is killing all of those people. He paid for it though. That monster that he made, it killed him.â That doesnât make sense, you think to yourself, someone had been in your room and left you that case. The flowers too. If what Jill is saying is correct, then those flowers must have been several months old, not weeks.
Keeping your thoughts to yourself, you think back to the vial that you injected into yourself. How did Albert get the vial of medicine? Why was he asking you to trust him on it? What was in it? How did you not know that he was working for Umbrella?Â
âYouâre awake!â Carlosâs voice booms into the room disrupting your train of thought as he smiles widely. âHoly shit, it worked! Call the government. Tell them we got the cure.â He aids Jill off the bed while your mind continues to process everything. âCome on, we got to go.â
âI canât.â Your words halt Jill, Carlos and Tyrell as they look at you like youâve grown two heads. âI canât go with you.â
âThis whole city is about to be nuked if we donât get out of here,â Tyrell comments with labored breathing while Jill rushes to your side, looping her arm through yours.
âLook, whatever is holding you back is gone. We need to get out of here.â
âBu-â
âNo but, I just got you back, I am NOT going to lose you again,â she tugs you along through the doors while Carlos keeps on the lookout. Begrudgingly, you follow along, promising yourself that you will find Albert Wesker.
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