b i g b a n g

Everyone around the world marching tomorrow against the evil that has taken power in my country,

Thank you. I will be marching with you, in DC itself. I have printed 18 posters. 6 are of a Muslim girl, 6 of a Latina woman, and 6 of a young black man. I am going with more friends than I can count on one hand, and we will march for those who cannot.

We will make our voices heard. Sorrow may have reigned today, but hope will reign tomorrow. We will keep fighting for it.

The girl from the west coast

If there’s anyone who hasn’t read ‘‘Fleimkepa’‘ by @alexispayton , what.are.you.waiting.for. Fix-it fic in all its G L O R Y.  Captivating intricacies of Grounder politics, Clarke and the Flame and Lexa transcending ascende superior.

OH MY G OS H HELLO FR I E N DS I’M LIKE TWENTY EIGHT BILLION Y E AR S LATE FOR THE STRANGER THINGS TRAIN

BUT I JUST FINISHED IT AND I ADORED EVERY SE CON D BUT I HAVE JUST ON E COMPLAINT

W H AT ABOUT B A R B

You’re kissing your lover. They pull away a bit and you ask why and they say it’s to breathe. You tell them to hold it, and you continue kissing them and you grab their hair. You can feel them shift a bit as they try to pull back again and you put your hand on their bladder and press it. Their voice raises an octave in shock as you go further against them roughly. 
“Hold it.” you order, and you continue to press their bladder. They use their strength to push you off of them, breathing heavy. 
You look down and see a patch starting to form. “I said to hold it.” 
They wince “I can’t… I-” You press their bladder again and they inwardly shriek as you go back to kissing them, their groans and relief muffled by your mouth as the sound of them wetting the fabric of their clothes fills your ears, made faster by your hand on their bladder. 

“Keith, my man, my buddy, you’re ruining the mood here by laughing at me.”

“You’re the one spinning us in circles while wailing a freaking Dashboard Confessional song–”

“Hey, sweetheart, it’s called serenading–I am serenading you, with a song of your people, because we don’t have actual music to dance to.”

“Wait, what do you mean ‘my people’?”

“You know, an emo song. Full of emotional declarations like: ’My hopes are so high so your kiss might kill me’.”

“Oh my god.”

He loves him anyway.