major lock

About the cornrows thing...

It really was never about the hair.

Originally posted by mtv

The core of Amandla’s discussion about cultural appropriation had barely settled on America’s consciousness, much less our subconsciousness before this happened…..

and then swiftly this happened.

This “conversation” between 16 year old Stenberg and the now 18 year old Jenner caused a huge uproar. Immediately Amandla not only was accused of being a race baiter and of being the stereotypical “angry black girl” she also became Andy Cohen’s “jackhole of the day” for her counter of Kylie’s cornrows. Many people were astounded that this situation was all about hair. Anyone should be allowed to wear their hair in any fashion they want. Even the styles that have been traditionally worn by black women and girls for decades. The styles that have been worn traditionally by black women and girls for decades, primarily for function, secondarily for fashion. The styles didn’t seem to be on anyones radar or worthy of praise until Miley,or Iggy, Kendall Jenner started wearing them.

 When Amandla Stenberg called out Kylie Jenner’s cultural appropriation many came to her defense. Cries of: shes young (she had allegedly been in a relationship with a now 25 year old man since she was 16), “shes just trying to figure it out” the words of Justin Bieber, and that shes can do whatever she wants flooded the interwebs as the dispute between the girls became the highest trending hashtag.

I agree everyone should be allowed to wear their hair the way they want. A London boy in 2011 shouldn’t have been sent home because his cornrows were believed to be too closely associated with London’s gang culture. White children were also prevented from shaving their heads for fear of its association to skinheads.  

7 year old Tiana Parker should not have had to leave school because of her hair in 2013. She had attended her school for a year before her dreadlocks caused an issue.12 year old Vanessa VanDyke should not have been threatened with expulsion for wearing her hair in the natural form that grew out of her head. 

A Native American boy, 5 years old, was sent home on his first day of kindergarten because his traditional braids did not meet the required dress code for little boys. 

Okay…clearly the issue also lies in the school dress code policies. Policies that seem to make it very difficult for children of color or of other cultures to wear their hair in anyway that is different from their straight haired counterparts.  So no, Amandla’s comment was not a jab at Kylie but instead were the actions of a young woman trying to inform a privileged, young, soon to be adult celebrity with a massive fan base of impresionable individuals, to not be so careless and ignorant to the value that has historically been placed on hair and hairstyles by other cultures. It is possible to appreciate that culture without appropriating it.

  After these events I imagine that amandla would have had one last question:

What would America be like if we, as a society, defended the freedom of children of any and all color to be who they are the same way we defend  young girls/women, like Kylie Jenner, to do what they want? 


Vanessa was featured on the real 11/13/2015 and her Afro still looks amazing.

First Love Chapter Five: Making Up

Chapter Summary: You an Misha make up, like you have before, but will you ever discuss what the problem is?

A/N: Reminder that the tags lists are back open!!

Pairing: Misha x Reader

Warnings: Oral (female receiving), Smut, some language?

Word Count: 1.9k

Read Unintentional 


Originally posted by castielimaginesboi

 was a sinking feeling in your chest and you felt like you were going to throw up. There was no way Misha loved you after that. There was no way he would even want to look at you after that. Your thoughts ran wild as you fell over and curled into yourself on the floor and lost it.

You contemplated leaving and heading back to Vancouver, but you didn’t think that you could even get up. You laid there and sobbed, wanting nothing more than to run to Misha and make sure that he was okay. You were wrong. You shouldn’t have hit him.

This was your fault.


You’d spent the majority of Sunday locked in your hotel room. You didn’t leave, you ignored all texts and phone calls, and just ordered room service and laid in bed.

Misha had yet to call you.

You thought he might have been busy, but he didn’t really have much to do on Sundays from what you understood. So your mind went straight to thinking that he didn’t want to be with you anymore.

And every time that thought crossed your mind, your chest sank and fresh tears fell. You didn’t want to live without him. You needed him. You were his, now and always.

You shut the television off and rolled over whenever an old episode of Supernatural came on. You couldn’t watch it right now. You weren’t even sure if you could go back to work after this.

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Summary: Q and Bond escape a Spectre facility. 

“You’re fucking heavy,” Q said, or possibly yelled, stumbling down the corridor towards a side exit of the compound. His ears were still ringing and sound was muffled, the natural consequence of Bond firing a gun less than a meter away from his head.

“Stop wasting your breath on whinging!” Bond shouted in his good ear, his thighs tightening around Q’s waist before he fired twice more, once in front and once behind, hitting one of the Spectre mercenaries who had captured them each time.

Actually, Bond was hideously light, all things considered, which was the only reason Q could carry him. They had broken some of the bones in Bond’s feet during the routine beatings, and starved him, while Q in the next cell over had been left relatively intact, punished only when he tried to sneak his rations through the little viewing window into Bond’s cell, or when he mouthed off particularly insolently.

He’d made Bond laugh with one particularly apt insult; it had been worth the little patch of skinned flesh over his ribs, probably. And it had made their captors frustrated, and made them underestimate him. That, in turn, had made them…careless.

He had learned how to take advantage of carelessness. In part because Bond had taught him to, tapping Morse code through their shared wall at night, telling him to do some bloody push-ups so he’d have the strength to strike when he got the chance. 

(M would be proud, he’d thought, staring down at the body of the guard he’d managed to buddy up to.)

He’d got lucky–his opportunity to escape had come at night, when the fewest guards were on duty. Once he’d stolen the dead guard’s uniform and pass, he’d finagled his way into Spectre’s security system, sent out a distress signal, and locked the majority of the compound’s staff into the dormitory where they were sleeping. Afterward, he’d let himself into the armory and spent a heart-pounding few minutes avoiding the other guards and placing depth charges around the facility before coming back to tell Bond to climb on; he was getting them out of here.

Q’s body trembled with exhaustion with every step he took, but every step was one closer to the door of the prison they’d been held in, taken captive in an effort to cripple England’s espionage in the same way he and Bond had been crippling Spectre’s criminal organization, whole limbs of the great tentacled beast hacked and clawed away now.  

“Two minutes!” Bond shouted, and threw his empty pistol; it hit the last guard in front of them in the throat, and he fell and didn’t get back up.  

The way was clear.

“Right,” Q said. He picked up the guard’s pistol on the way out and passed it to Bond, and then he was jogging, not even enough breath for a mumbled “fuck-fuck-fuck” as he burst through the door and raced for the compound wall.

His mind blanked, his lungs heaved, and his stride lengthened; Bond suddenly seemed light as a feather.

“Go, go, go, you fucking—”

He went. Across the yard, out the gate, and–

The compound wall was cool at their backs when the heat of the explosions rocked through the air.   

In his peripheral vision, Bond gave him a tired thumbs up.

“Oh, bugger off,” Q panted.

There were helicopters in the distance; hopefully MI6 responding to his signals. He collapsed to his hands and knees so Bond could drop off of him, and they sat and waited for their rescue.

Note: a sprint from a while back with snowyleopardess! Trying to get a little bit of action-writing XP ^ ^

Fairy Tail GO! Ch. 50

Rated T. I do not own Fairy Tail, Hiro Mashima does.

Summary: Lucy was having fun playing ‘Pokémon Go!’ when she accidentally put herself in harm’s way. Luckily a pink haired boy saved her just in the nick of time. A ‘thank you’ lunch helped spark a new friendship between them, but Lucy got more than she bargained for when she realized the boy she befriended had a complex past full of dark secrets. Fortunately for him, Lucy won’t be scared away so easily. Modern High School AU. Slight Angst/Drama/Fluff.

Read Chapter: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 40, 41, 42, 43, 44, 45, 46, 47, 48, 49, 50, 51, 52, 53, 54, 55, 56, 57, 58, 59, 60

Read on or AO3.

I seriously can’t believe there’s 50 chapters already! Thank you for your continued support!

Chapter Fifty: Breakfast for Dinner

“How bad is it?” Lucy asked, moving her hair to reveal Natsu’s mark. They waited until Natsu could hear the water running in the bathroom before talking again, a little embarrassed since they almost got caught making out by his mom.

“Umm…” Natsu inspected the hickey on her right shoulder, rubbing his thumb over the tender spot. She shivered under his touch, biting her bottom lip to suppress a whimper. It still hurt a little when messed with, so he removed his finger. “It’s pretty dark… and big…”

The oval-shaped mark would be noticeable if her shirt shifted too much. “I’m sorry. I probably shouldn’t have done that,” he sighed, only feeling slight remorse. Truthfully he loved seeing his mark decorating her skin. It was a reminder of how far he was able to go with Lucy without freaking out.

Well, he freaked out a little, but he recovered quickly after he grabbed her.

Natsu looked at her wrists, relieved to find them unmarked. He would have felt bad if he bruised her in other places. “Did I hurt you?” he asked, tenderly rubbing her skin.

Lucy shook her head, lips pulled in a tight line to keep from smiling. She didn’t want Natsu to know just how much she liked his caring side as well. Lately she felt as if anything she did might make him revert back to the skittish guy he was before. She enjoyed the progress he made, not wanting to ruin it.

“I’ll be fine,” she assured.

“Are ya sure?” he asked, waiting for her to nod before taking a deep breath. “Good. I’d hate to hurt you…” He let his finger trail along the inside of her wrist for a few seconds before a small smile came to his face. “I’m… I’m actually surprised I was, umm… able to do that m-much…”

Lucy stopped breathing for a moment, afraid to say anything. She could already hear it in his voice. He was crawling back into his shell.

“I liked it,” she rushed out, throat still feeling dry. “It was… nice.”

“Nice?” He met her gaze, brow arched. He kept eye contact for ten seconds before sighing. “If you say so. I dunno if I can do that again though…”

Lucy had to force herself from frowning. “Oh?”

His eyes lowered to her hand again. “It was a bit much, honestly. I mean in the moment I wasn’t thinking clearly, but now I’m wondering if I rushed things…”

Lucy shook her head, pulse racing when his finger brushed over her skin again. “I think it was good! I mean, I don’t really know what rushing things means. I’m new to all of this… I…” She just knew she wanted to touch him more.

Maybe kiss more than his lips for once or possibly touch his stomach like he did with her? “I’m sorry for touching your umm, thighs though. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable…”

The finger on her wrist stilled before he pulled his hand away from hers. “Yeah… Sorry about that… I just kinda… Hmm…” Natsu didn’t know how to put into words what he was thinking without telling her too much.

His eyes shut as he realized how unfair he was being to Lucy. ‘She deserves to know the truth,’ he thought, but he didn’t want her to think he was a freak. 'Just tell her. Maybe then she’ll understand…’

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Lead Me to a Place Called Home - AngryPirateHusbands - Black Sails [Archive of Our Own]
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
By Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 16/?
Fandom: Black Sails
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Captain Flint/John Silver, Anne Bonny/“Calico” Jack Rackham/Max
Characters: Captain Flint (Black Sails), John Silver, Billy Bones, Miranda Barlow, Charles Vane, Eleanor Guthrie, “Calico” Jack Rackham, Hal Gates, Mr. Scott (Black Sails), Ben Gunn, Anne Bonny, Max (Black Sails)
Additional Tags: Angst, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Depression, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Death, Universe Alteration, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Developing Relationship, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Slow Burn, Panic Attacks, Drug Abuse

Modern AU.

After Thomas’ death, James finds himself unable to cope. He spends the majority of his time locked away in Thomas’ study, attempting to drown out the pestering voices of guilt and self loathing. Unfortunately, the only thing he finds at the bottom of the bottle is more despair. And then he meets John Silver.


Rating: M

Word Count: 1,241

Warnings: smut, cursing, bdsm, spanking, MFF threesome, little bit of lesbian action, slut shaming, degradation, I think that’s it

Synopsis: After Bryana caught Y/N and Ashton together, she decided to join in on the fun.

Previous Parts: One


Disclaimer: This gif does not belong to me, it belongs to the lovely person who made it ________________________________________________________________

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Take my Life Joji x Reader

Warnings: Alcohol Addiction, near death, mentions of vomiting, triggers of self loathe and suicidal thoughts, angst but ends with fluff, this shit is dark. I didn’t add many elements of love into this I wanted to refrain from romanticizing this.. if this will negatively affect you don’t read it.

“my idea was like little imagine short fic thing where the reader has been hiding an alcohol addiction and one night it goes too far and joji finds y/n passed out in a messy heap on the floor and looks after her but when she wakes up he confronts her and make it super angsty but end in fluff ahh”

This was a private request as the requester has asked to stay anonymous and messaged me the idea privately and so I added a few elements to this to make it more seemless, hope you enjoy and if you suffer with any of the things mentioned, seek help. A friend of mine suffered with an alcohol dependent addiction to deal with emotions, so I take these things seriously. Thank you

Gif: @byedubbbz

Inspiration: Lund// Broken

Can’t tell him, can’t tell anyone. Not gonna mention a word, I can handle this. It’s good for me it helps me cope. As much as I am able to anyway. God was I wrong. I threw some empty bottles of Jack and Absolut into the trash bag and heaved it into the chute down the block. My hood of my black jacket lay low against my damp forehead, strings of hair slick against it. My eyes drooped, pulsing red and accessorised with purple sacks; reminding me of my nightly mistakes. I never did really see it as a problem, for a long time I saw it as an escape, distraction if you will and I never really saw anything wrong with what I did…guess I was just deluded.

Will you end my pain?
Will you take my life?
Will you bleed me out?

It never really did hurt me, sure there were some issues with it; the migraines, the partially failing liver, my skin paling, occasional puking blood but as a self loather you don’t see that, you don’t notice how bad an addiction can leave you; you see right through it. Many positives in my life never drove me, never motivated me to get help, especially since I didn’t tell anyone. Ian, Max, Chad or…or Joji. Sure, they knew about my suffering with depression and aspects of self hate but never put two and two together; the empty glass bottles and liquor stained couch and how I had locks on majority of my flat’s drawers.

Will you hang me out to dry?
Will you take my soul in the midnight rain?
While I’m falling apart
While I’m going…

Like tonight, here I am in a bar, with the boys, unaffected by the substances that were supposed to intoxicate me just gave me an insanely painful stomach pain. Wincing, I placed my hand under my hoodie and gently pushed my palm against my skin, attempting to soothe the pain. Joji noticed this and cocked a brow, about to offer help but I backed away and stumbled to the bathroom.

Blood, spurts of blood and a harsh brown liquid falling from my lips. Groaning, I pulled the flask from my bag and chugged the lot. It numbed my miserable state, it calmed the storm of unusual thoughts that haunted my every move. Wiping stray tears from my face, I wiped my lips and threw my trusty flask into my bag, joining the boys. Chad came back with a tray of beers and a couple rounds of shots. Cautiously, I slid in the booth next to Joji and he placed his hand onto my shaking leg.

Can you break my bones?
Will you tear my skin?
Can you taste my lust?
Can you feel my sin?

“Yo babe are you okay?” He said into my ear, the splitting noise of music boomed around so normal voices would not suffice, I faked a grin and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Mee? Am, I am fannntastic!” I giggled, pressing a kiss to his nose and grabbing some glasses and chugging them down with no breaks and I grinned, stomach churning and I internally burned- emotionally and physically. The thing with hating yourself is, you never know when it will end so you just assume that it doesn’t and for this you punish yourself for being the way you are and it fucking kills you to know that this is what life is. Life is pain and suffering and hate and undeserved love and deserved hatred and accepting yourself as a fucking burden.

See I’m a waste of life
I should just kill myself
Yeah, I could slit my wrists
But it really wouldn’t help

After chugging down liquor for majority of the night, I snuck home and persuaded the guys I could make it down the block to my apartment. Stumbling into my door, I slammed into my glass table and puked over the couch, stinging lactic acid burning my throat.

Sobbing, my emotions crashed all at once like a nuclear explosion, my hands shook and unlocked my stash of bottles. Lids flew across the room, I poured vodka into a glass and swallowed it through clenched teeth, my body rejected it poorly and some dribbled down between my lips, carrying drips of blood.  Wailing, I threw my backpack against the wall and I fell back against the kitchen wall, facing the front door.

Wouldn’t fix my issues
Or change your mind
Cause I broke your heart
And you buried mine
Now I’m 6 feet deep and I can’t breathe
I got dirt in my eyes
And blood on my sleeves

My skin was warmed and I felt fingers creep under my back and lift me in the air, close against their chest. As comforting as it felt to be warmed as an awaking, I felt my stomach churn and flip upside down. Puke poured out of my mouth and hit the floor, my skull felt as if a drill was penetrating it ever so slowly. Slow, murky cries escaped my lips in drawn breaths.

“What the fuck were you thinking? You were near death!”

Joji, oh fuck no not Joji.

“You think I wanted to feel like this…f-feel like this is my only option here, eh Joj?” I croaked, slowly lifting myself up off of the couch. My scarred arms were shown, faint white bumps in lines filled my wrist to upper arm, blotches of purple scabs on my hands from cigarette burns and my mouth slick in vodka and puke. It was painful to see, his eyes search my body in panic and his shaking hands clenching onto his phone.


“An alcoholic, yes. A fucking mess of a human also. Why’d you come here Joji?”

“Your neighbour called me, she was worried you were hurt so I came.”

“Wish you didn’t.”

Will you end my pain?
Will you take my life?
Will you bleed me out?
Will you hang me out to dry?
Will you take my soul in the midnight rain?
While I’m falling apart
While I’m going…

“Well I’m fucking glad I did. I’m glad I managed to find you here at least alive. You think this doesn’t hurt me, to see you a fucking ruin on the tile floor, hands bleeding and clenching onto a bottle of vodka as if your life fucking depends on it. You need help, you deserve help; hell, you deserve so much more than this. This life is unhealthy, it’s not good whatsoever and all you’re gonna do is drink yourself to death doing this!” He cried, voice crackling as his tears patterned his reddened cheeks.

“Maybe that’s what I want.” I groaned, wiping my cheek and slumping down to the floor, loosely holding my legs to my chest.

Will you end my pain?
Will you take my life?
Will you bleed me out?
Will you hang me out to dry?

“No, it’s not what you want. It’s what you think you want, what you think you deserve. You think you deserve this because of what happened to-”

“Don’t you fucking dare mention her name!”

“Then what do you want me to fucking do?! Trample on egg shells trying to avoid why this is happening, it won’t change if you don’t talk about it and admit that that’s why! You can’t…punish yourself for something you couldn’t control.” He spoke more quietly, dipping down to my level. Glancing into his eyes, I felt tears well and he wrapped his arms around my front, picking me up and pulling my legs to wrap around his waist, carrying me into my room with a bottle of water clasped.

Will you take my soul in the midnight rain?
While I’m falling apart
While I’m going…

Sat holding me close on his lap, his hands were trembling against my sickly skin. My skin was prodding, slight bumps of bone revealed my slow and small appetite. Heartbroken wasn’t the word, devastated was an understatement.

“Jo I don’t wanna be here anymore.”

“Shh, we’ll-we’ll find something just like we always do, okay? We always work it out and we’ll get you some help and we’ll clean the place and rid of your alcohol and and find you a hobby or something.” His hands swirled in the bath he had ran, gently placing me into it with caution. He poured the warm water from a jug down my back and through my messy strands. Closing my eyes, I cried silently with my knees to my chest, allowing him to wash my body from dirt and sweat, removing the grease from my hair.

“We’ll get somewhere soon, just rest for now. We’ll make it somehow, baby, I promise.”

Don’t you miss me when I’m gone
Cause you’re the fucking reason that I’m not around
Don’t you miss me when I’m, miss me when I’m gone
Cause you’re the fucking reason that I’m not around
Fucking reason that I’m not around
Bitch you’re the fucking reason that I’m not around

What The Signs Bedrooms Look Like

Aries: Always a mess. What’s the point in cleaning if its just going to get dirty again? There are posters from their favorite tv shows everywhere, and old t-shirts from theme parks they’ve been to. Lots of things that hold sentimental value. 

Taurus: Dreamy. The walls are a light shade of blue and there’s always a million pillows on the bed. Their beds are so inviting and look super comfortable. They have all their favorite treats stashed and their favorite stuffed animal near. 

Gemini: Loud. Just like their personality. There’s bright colors and quotes all over the wall. They have pictures tacked up with all of their friends and a spot for them all to write funny notes. They are a lover of candles and things that smell really good too.

Cancer: Simple but inviting. There’s not much in a Cancers room because they spend very little time there alone, but people always want to be in this room even though it lacks anything super special when you look at it, there are lots of memories that coat the walls. 

Leo: Fun. This is your dream room. Leo’s have the coolest comforters and paintings that you haven’t seen anywhere else and while they were all bought separate they still seem to flow together perfectly. They have the largest VHS collection. 

Virgo: Perfect. The bedspread matches the walls and the walls match the paintings and the paintings match the accessories. Everything matches, you can tell this bedroom was set up all at the same time with the same thing in mind and their taste is excellent!

Scorpio: Mysterious. There’s always some crazy thing going on in a Scorpio’s room and they’re always anxious to show you. They change up their rooms a lot. There’s blacklights everywhere one day, complete with posters and then there’s ouija boards and tarot cards spread all over the room the next. You’ll never know what you’re walking into when you approach a Scorpio’s room. 

Libra: Typical Room. This room has everything you’re used to seeing and you don’t have to ask where things are because its always so organized. Old CD’s in one section, old ribbons from school on the wall, floor length mirror in the other, wall of photos on the left and the dry erase board with messages from when you all were in middle school. A Libras room is sentimental. 

Sagittarius: Crazy. There’s bound to be marker all over the Sagittarius room, because their parents never let them draw on the wall when they were younger. So they had a bunch of friends come over and draw on it now. There’s probably a painting they did them-selves in the corner and loads of music all over the room. Just a lot of cool little knick-knacks. 

Capricorn: Organized. Capricorns can’t stand messes. They know where everything is at all times. Their music is alphabetized, their clothes are color coordinated. Capricorns have to be the most aesthetically pleasing signs out of the zodiac. 

Aquarius: Special. No one really knows what an Aquarius has in their room because they don’t show their rooms to very many people. They like to keep them private, and treat them as a place to escape. 

Pisces: The bed is the main focus here because its where they spend most of their time. Its likely to have a huge comforter and lots of blankets. A Pisces spends the majority of their time locked away in their room, so this is one room you would never get tired of. There’s all kinds of interesting books and movies, records everywhere and paintings all over the wall. Its all miscellaneous but it flows together really nicely. 

Join us this Friday 4pm at Revolution Books 132nd street and Lenox avenue to meet the Revolution Club
From the Revolution Club on May 1, 2017

To the angry and impatient youth… to those living in the shadows… to those who are in fear every day of being torn from your loved ones… to all those who are sickened by these endless outrages… to anyone and everyone who is determined to stand up and fight…

It’s time to get organized for an ACTUAL revolution. And this revolution needs you.

A whole different world is possible—a world without borders, a world where no human being is considered “illegal,” a world without the division into a handful of bloodthirsty imperialist powers and the vast majority of humanity locked into the oppressed nations.

The only thing standing in the way is this system of capitalism-imperialism. This system is driven by the anarchic mad-dash competition between these brutal powers for more profitable exploitation of the people and the planet. It forces people to flee their homes from poverty-stricken conditions and imperialist destruction. Then it callously demonizes and persecutes them, tearing families apart for trying to escape the misery this system itself causes.

This system cannot be reformed. And it promises far worse: the consolidation of a fascist America, with that monstrous ghoul Donald Trump threatening nuclear war on the world and even worse environmental devastation of floods, droughts, mass starvation… all still within a system that cannot do anything to stop this preventable suffering and death.

This system needs to be overthrown through an ACTUAL revolution to bring into being a radically different, and far better, world. This revolution is not just necessary, it is possible. And there is a force that is getting organized and working to make this revolution at the earliest possible time. A force you need to link up with and a force you need to join.

Right now, we urgently have to wage the political struggle—uniting people from many different perspectives—to drive this fascist Trump/Pence regime from power. Before fascism is able to fully consolidate, we have to lead millions into the streets with the determination: No! In the Name of Humanity, We REFUSE to Live in a Fascist America!

As we do, we need to be on a mission to spread the word, to let people know that we have the leadership, the science, the strategy and program, and the basis for organizing people for an actual, emancipating revolution. We have Bob Avakian (BA), the leader of this revolution and the architect of a new framework for revolution, the new synthesis of communism. We have the Party led by BA, the Revolutionary Communist Party, with this new synthesis as its scientific basis to build for revolution. We have the Revolution Clubs, where people can take part in and powerfully represent for the revolution in an organized way, as they learn more about the revolution and advance toward joining the Party. We have the website of the Party,, and its newspaper Revolution, which sharply expose the crimes of this system, scientifically analyze why it cannot be reformed, and give guidance and direction for people to work in a unified way for revolution. We have the Constitution for the New Socialist Republic in North America, written by BA and adopted by the Party’s Central Committee, which provides a sweeping and concrete vision and “blueprint” for a radically new and emancipating society. People in the inner cities, and in the prisons, students, scholars, artists, lawyers and other professionals, youth in the suburbs and rural areas—people in all parts of society—need to know about this and seriously take it up.

Go to every day and join the Revolution Club.


Bay Area:
(510) 253-5551

(312) 804-9121

Los Angeles:

New York City:
NYC Revolution Club

Long Time Gone


He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept a night through without dreaming. Could it be called dreaming though if it was more like memories and less like fantasies? He yawned then tried to blink the crust of sleep from his eyes as he fumbled with the laces of his running shoes. The view outside his window revealed a pitch dark night, but he made no move to turn on the lights as he stood from the mattress. It’d been Liv that had woken him this time. For Major though that wasn’t unusual. It seemed that no matter how much time passed he would never stop dreaming of her. He didn’t want to. Those memories were reminders of loss, but he couldn’t fathom the thought of a world where he wasn’t glad for the time he had spent with her.

Major didn’t bother locking the door behind him. There was no point in a town with numbers as few as theirs. He took a deep breath, and felt the haze of drowsiness that clouded his mind begin to clear. It was the dead of night, and the only people that were going to be out at this hour were the posted guards on patrol. He turned down the street and with no destination in mind began to jog. His feet carried him down familiar blocks of houses, and past the more familiar faces of a paired guards. He flashed them smiles with a tossed wave, but didn’t slow. Not until he turned the corner to a lone, unpaired one on the other side of the street at least. “Tess.” Major cocked his head with a raised eyebrow and half of a smile as he came to a stop.

“How come you’re alone tonight?” In the eight months since he’d been brought into the refuge he’d not once known the assignment of common responsibilities to be mishandled like this. One of their most heavily enforced rules was that guards didn’t patrol alone. His thoughts flashed to the name sheet of assigned duties for the week. Robert. His name had been listed under Major’s, and hers had been penciled in on the line as his partner. Robert that hadn’t been feeling well the morning before as he’d helped him haul in water. Major’s head tilted back with eyes closed in an open expression of understanding as he exhaled a phantom chuckle. “Don’t tell me it’s Robbie. I told him not to trust that clam chowder.” Most people didn’t care much for humor anymore but not Major. 

anonymous asked:

just as a quick note - i seriously think people across the world DO know how bad trump is. If anyone has made any insensitive jokes, then obviously that is terrible. However, we also are having nationalist and fascist uprisings across europe too right now. Xenophobia is quickly becoming the majority. Russia literally is locking away gay people. And eurovision's theme is 'diversity'. Whilst it may have its problems, it at least is giving a platform for diversity and hope for Europeans.

I definitely see that now. (the Chechen stuff absolutely horrifies me like what the fuck). both america and europe have horrible things going on and my reblogging of that post doesn’t help in any way and instead only makes the argument of “my politics are worse than yours!!!!!!”. which is not what I want to do.

Delilah had felt it extremely difficult to get herself into the holiday spirit this year, between the lingering consequences of Halloween and the reminders of the family she no longer had, she ended up spending a majority of the time locked in her room or drinking until she ended up in the drunk tank. Or, on days such as this one, where she really needed an escape- she would hike into the woods. Something about the outdoors had always helped put her at some peace and physical activity aided in the pent up energy she tended to possess. Her foot kicked at a small stone from the ledge that she stood on, watching as it fell the far distance below and into the small body of water that was sure to be near freezing this time of year. With less than a moments thought and a near constant craving for adrenaline, she stripped off her jacket and her shoes soon followed. Only then did she become aware of another’s approach. “How cold do you think that water has to be?”