I Am Seeing The Results And The Way It's Likely Going In The US. Haven't Fully Wrapped My Mind Around

Protecting The Musician

Request: Yes @chanbien

The atmosphere backstage was electric as I prepared for my performance. I had been working tirelessly on this set, and sharing the stage with someone as inspiring as Kamala Harris felt like a dream come true. My heart raced with anticipation, and I could hardly wait to showcase my music to an audience that included her.

As I stood by the side of the stage, tuning my guitar, I overheard a commotion in the audience. My stomach twisted when I recognized the loud, brash voice that cut through the excitement—Donald Trump. He had just taken the stage for a brief appearance, and it was clear he was up to his usual antics.

“Why are we even listening to her?” I heard him scoff, his tone dripping with disdain. “What has she ever done that’s so special?”

Anger flared within me at his disrespect for Kamala. This was a woman who had fought tirelessly for justice, equality, and the rights of others, and yet here he was, belittling her without a second thought. I could see Kamala standing tall and composed on the other end of the stage, radiating strength despite the jab.

I took a deep breath, reminding myself that this moment was bigger than us. It wasn’t just about a performance; it was about standing up for what was right. I could feel a surge of determination coursing through me. I was going to dedicate my set to her—to the resilience of anyone who faced disrespect and opposition.

When it was finally my turn to step into the spotlight, I walked out with my head held high. The audience was a mix of cheers and jeers, but I focused on Kamala, who was watching intently, her eyes encouraging. I strummed the first chord and let the music flow through me, pouring all my passion into every note.

As I sang, I could see Kamala smile, her presence invigorating me. I wrote the song with her spirit in mind—about resilience, empowerment, and standing up against those who try to bring us down. With each verse, I let my message resonate, hoping it would reach not only her but everyone in the room.

When I finished, the applause erupted, drowning out any negativity left lingering in the air. Kamala stood and clapped enthusiastically, her smile wide as she approached the front of the stage. My heart swelled with pride as she leaned down to speak to me.

“You were fantastic,” she said, her voice warm and genuine. “Thank you for reminding us why we stand strong together.”

In that moment, I knew that no amount of disrespect from anyone could change the power of our voices. We were here to uplift one another, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

The indomitable strength that women like her embody. I poured my heart into the lyrics, each verse a tribute to those who had fought battles both seen and unseen.

The audience began to sway with the rhythm, some clapping along while others were caught up in the emotion of the moment. The notes danced in the air, filling the space between us with a sense of solidarity that transcended politics. In that fleeting instant, it felt as though we were all connected—each one of us standing up for a better future, inspired by a remarkable woman who dared to dream big.

As I reached the final chorus, I glanced back at Kamala, and our eyes locked. Her gaze was fierce, filled with pride and determination. I could see the impact of what I was doing; it wasn’t just a performance anymore. It was a declaration. A statement that no matter how loud the dissenters got, we’d keep singing and fighting for what we believe in.

When the last note hung in the air, the audience erupted into applause. I took a moment to let it wash over me, feeling the gratitude and support flowing from the crowd. But more importantly, I wanted to acknowledge Kamala. I gestured toward her, signaling my respect for her unwavering spirit and tenacity.

It was then that I saw something incredible happen. Kamala stood up and clapped, a broad smile on her face. It felt like a culmination of everything she represented—a celebration of resilience and the power of voice. In that moment, I realized that we were all part of something bigger than ourselves, a movement for change and hope.

After the show, I had the chance to meet Kamala backstage. With excitement bubbling inside me, I approached her, still riding the high of the performance. “Thank you for being such an inspiration,” I said, my voice tinged with awe. “Your strength means so much to artists like me.”

She smiled warmly, her eyes sparkling with kindness. “You have an incredible gift, Y/n. Never underestimate the power of your voice. Keep shining!”

Those words resonated within me as we spoke, solidifying my commitment to use my music as a platform for advocacy.

In a world where voices can often be drowned out, I vowed to be unyielding, to let my music speak for those who needed to be heard, and to carry forward the legacy of inspiring leaders like Kamala Harris.

As I left the venue that night, my heart swelled with purpose. I knew this was just the beginning, and I was ready to embrace whatever came next.

One of my favorite genres of insane Terminally Online Right Wing posting is *sees a pretty woman* "I am a gay pedophile"

Cocky Bastard

Heelbret

As I sat at the commentary desk, analyzing each match with my sharp wit and insightful comments, I couldn't help but notice Heel Bret's confident swagger as he made his way down the ramp. His piercing gaze locked onto mine, a mischievous glint in his eyes that hinted at the chaos he was about to unleash.

"You know, Y/n," he began, his voice oozing with charm, "I can't help but be captivated by your beauty and intelligence as you sit there at ringside. It seems you are more than just a commentator. You're a force to be reckoned with."

His flirtatious tone caught me off guard, and I raised an eyebrow, not sure if I should play along or maintain my professionalism. "Oh, Bret," I replied, my voice a mix of amusement and skepticism, "I appreciate the compliments, but let's not forget that the real action is in the ring, not in our banter."

Heel Bret chuckled, undeterred by my response. "Ah, Y/n, your quick wit only adds to your allure. But trust me, I am well aware of your ability to captivate an audience. It takes one charismatic performer to recognize another."

His cockiness irked me, but I couldn't deny the underlying chemistry between us. "Bret, there's a fine line between confidence and arrogance," I retorted, my voice laced with a touch of challenge. "And it seems you've crossed that line more times than I can count."

He flashed me a self-assured smirk, leaning closer to the commentary desk. "I prefer to call it embracing my greatness," he countered, his gaze intensifying. "But don't worry, Y/n, I'll make sure to give you front-row access to witness my victory tonight. Perhaps then, you'll understand the irresistible charm that sets me apart."

His words made my pulse quicken, a mixture of annoyance and intrigue bubbling within me. "Oh, I've seen your performances, Bret," I replied, my voice laced with a hint of sarcasm. "But I can't say I'm convinced just yet. Actions speak louder than words in this ring, remember?"

Heel Bret's grin widened, and he leaned even closer, his breath warm against my ear. "You're right, Y/n," he whispered, sending shivers down my spine. "Actions do speak louder than words. And tonight, I plan on showing you just how powerful my actions can be."

The intensity of his gaze and the promise in his words sent a rush of adrenaline through me. It was undeniable - Heel Bret knew how to work a crowd, how to draw people in with his charisma. And in that moment, he had my full attention.

As the night unfolded, Bret delivered a thrilling performance, captivating the audience with his athletic prowess and showmanship. Each move, each taunt was calculated to elicit a reaction, and I couldn't help but be drawn in by his magnetism.

With each passing match, our banter grew more heated, the flirtation more palpable. The lines between professional rivalry and personal attraction blurred, leaving me wondering if there was more to Heel Bret than met the eye.

As the final match approached, Heel Bret sauntered over to the commentary table, a confident smirk playing on his lips. "Y/n," he said, his voice low and husky, "this is it. The moment of truth. Will you finally admit that I am the most captivating performer in this ring?"

I looked into his eyes, seeing the fire and determination within them. "Bret," I replied, my voice filled with a mix of admiration and defiance, "you've certainly proven yourself tonight. But true greatness isn't just about captivating an audience; it's about leaving a lasting impact."

Heel Bret's smirk faded, replaced by a thoughtful expression. "You're right, Y/n," he said, his tone softer now. "There's more to being a performer than just grabbing attention. It's about connecting with people, making them feel something."

In that moment, the flirtatious banter fell away, and we shared a genuine understanding. Heel Bret had shown me a different side of himself, a vulnerability hidden behind the cocky persona.

The night ended with Heel Bret emerging victorious, the crowd on their feet, cheering for his triumph. As he made his way up the ramp, our eyes met one final time, and a knowing smile passed between us.

Though our paths may have seemed at odds, there was an unspoken bond rooted in our shared love for the world of professional wrestling. And who knows what the future held? Perhaps our paths would combine?

Trump just declared that there are only 2 genders, so this is your reminder to get WEIRDER and QUEERER gang

Ngl, the selective outrage in the IWC is fucking disgusting. Call these people out, hold them accountable. Y'all get more passionate and in more of an uproar about damn storylines or a video game cover then you do about women being violated and that shit don't sit right with me.

I really want to write about poppy playtime right now, if anyone has any requests!

WHERE CAN I READ SOME EMMA D'ARCY FANFICS 😩😩

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨♡୧︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿

I will be periodically updating the list. PLEASE, PLEASE recommend your favourite BLACK AUTHORS, more importantly smaller creators (less than 1000 followers for instance) and authors that write for thick to chubby black readers and DARK SKIN black girls <3

Authors that write for Black Reader:

Posts on More BlPOC Writers.

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❥ @hyeque — archived, anime ❥ @angelbwrry — anime ❥ @sammysficfactory — anime, dc, resident evil, kpop, marvel (fluff) ❥ @xunolic/ @yutaholic — kpop ❥ @rr311 — anime. ❥ @azaarchiive — anime ❥ @forever1kay — anime, marvel, dc, 911 ❥ @38riku — anime ❥ @sat0-get0/ @sat0sugu-angst — anime ❥ @ginger4sugar — anime ❥ @slut4sugu — anime, marvel, dairy of a wimpy kid ❥ @pwncez — anime ❥ @lollipopliccer — anime ❥ @roseloon — anime ❥ @aizawasbrazybaby — anime ❥ @kairoot kpop — anime ❥ @sincerelyzee — anime ❥ @pixieknj — kpop ❥ @nunufx (recs) — kpop ❥ @backwzzds — anime ❥ @pinkmirth — anime, castlevania n ❥ @luminiamore — anime ❥ @melanated-writersblock — anime, kpop ❥ @chrollohearttags — anime ❥ @blackreaderatrisk — anime ❥ @strawberryfairi — anime ❥ @theebussyqueensblog — anime+patreon ❥ @riatheghoul — kpop, the bear, saltburn ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥

❥ List By @blackterrae ❥ black fan-creators big list by @triangularz

I don’t know how we’re letting trump get away with all this shit when I truly believe that if you threw a blanket over his head he would think it was nighttime and go to sleep like a bird

Definitely fucking need!!!

ok people, where are the Beldam!gp fics? I'm in need of this~