A note from the Indivisible Team
A note for all of us who feel defeated after Sessions from the Indivisible Team: This is the long game.

A note for all of us who feel defeated after Sessions from the Indivisible Team: This is the long game. We are going to lose a lot. We are going to get good at losing. We are going to lose cabinet votes for terrible nominees. We are going to lose bills that are offensive and appalling. But while we are losing, something else is going to happen. We are going to keep raising our voices and slowly our representatives are going to start listening to us. We’ve seen it happen. 

It won’t happen because of next week’s call to action. It’ll happen over months, where you keep showing up, regularly. Then, we are going to start winning. It’ll sneak up on us. We won’t understand why we are winning. But it starts with losing in a particular way- where we raise our voices and call it out when we aren’t listened to, where we get close but not quite there.

The first 100 days of a President’s term are the honeymoon period, the moment when he’s most likely to get his agenda enacted. Trump is spending his first 100 days mired in controversy, scandal, and backbiting - and that’s because you haven’t for a moment let anyone in Washington forget just how unpopular he is.

Every time we change the narrative, every time we delay, every time there’s a newspaper story about a member of Congress avoiding his or her constituents, that’s a win. And it matters.

You have already made history. You’ve delayed the confirmation of Trump’s cabinet picks longer than any time in recent history. You stopped the gutting on the congressional ethics office. You’ve made Republicans so nervous about the repeal of the Affordable Care Act that it’s been pushed further and further down the road. You caused an uproar of historic proportions over Trump’s Muslim ban and saved lives and reunited families in the process. You’ve inspired people who have never before taken action to make their voices heard and learn how to do things like check how their members of Congress voted and call them out for it.

We’ll never even know about some of the victories - because those will be the fights that this Administration considered starting and then realized it couldn’t win.

We’re in this together. Every visit. Every call. Every loss. Every win. That’s just what friends do. #StandIndivisible

In solidarity,

The Indivisible Team


social media demigod style: Percy Jackson.

Okay let’s talk about this painting. It’s called “Signing of the Constitution” by Howard Chandler Christy.

Let’s start with good old George Washington.

He’s staring dramatically into the distance with this heavenly glow thing going on.

William Blount is just looking longingly at Washington, like he’s desperate to confess his love.

Then Gunning Bedford, Jr. is down here on the floor like a weirdo.

George Read looks like he shit his pants and doesn’t know what to do.

Gouverneur Morris looks pissed. Also, it’s important that you know that Gouverneur was his first name, not his title.

William Jackson is obviously just asking for another drink. He can’t be bothered to pay attention to this historic event.

Roger Sherman is giving William Samuel Johnson some serious side-eye. Throwing some shade ‘bout some shit.

And my personal favorite: Ben Franklin looking directly at the camera like he’s Jim from The Office.

Probably because fucking Alexander Hamilton is all up in his personal space.

|Operation: L.O.V.E.| (Sam Drake x Reader)

WARNING: This is NOT a following up chapter on my big Sam Drake x Reader!

So, while listening to the Mission Impossible soundtrack and playing through the epilogue of U4 (For the fifth time) I came up with this little story. 


You met Nathan Drake and Elena Fisher as their next door neighbor when they bought their house on the beach. You’ve spent time with them for as long as you can remember. You’re attracted to Nate’s brother, but wasn’t sure if he felt the same. During a game with toy guns, it was the girls against the boys. Your faith will be decided.

Originally posted by sapirzz

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something old, something new (sam drake x reader) pt. II


(hello i am back to being the trash can i am.  here’s part 2 cause i figured the last thing was WAYYY too long to be a one-shot.  will continue this until i am satisfied.  ps dont expect smut from me i am just a wee lil babe (that’s a lie))

This was the second time this week that you had worked overtime.  The new exhibit was nearing completion and you were throwing all you had into it.  You slammed the phone down onto the receiver and looked over at the growing pile of mail piled at the corner of your desk.  It was so much.  What if it didn’t get done?

The phone rang again.  You stared at it for a moment, wanting to just let it ring and let the machine take care of it but your responsibilities got to the best of you.

“Y/N,” you muttered, tucking the phone under your cheek.

“You think you’re clever, don’t you princess?”  A familiar voice growled into your ear.

You felt your cheeks heat up a thousand degrees.  “Hello Sam.”

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Destined To Be | Chapter 8: To Trouble |

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9

Well *sigh*, here we go.

To be honest, this chapter was one of the hardest to write even with all the inspiration I had. I read it over and over and just didn’t feel perfection.
Seriously, I’ve never been so nervous to upload a chapter xD

Let me know if you like it!


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So I promised you a Kingbury thing

Vaguely, Samuel Seabury remembered reading a philosophy book early in his education that talked about people who lived in a cave. What would the people experience, the book had contemplated, if they left the cave? How would they react?
Here, in this palace, Samuel thought he knew exactly how they would have felt—small, in awe, and utterly, hopelessly out-of-place. He didn’t know who to talk to—and worse, he kept getting lost. In fact, he probably couldn’t find his way back to the side door he’d been admitted through. Where was he staying again?
Suddenly the corridor he was walking down emerged onto a balcony walkway that wrapped around the walls of and looked down upon a first-floor dining hall. Sam felt like a small boy again. He clutched the balcony railing and marveled at the crystal chandelier, at how far away the first floor seemed, and how many floors there still were above him.
Suddenly a door on the far wall flew open and a man rushed out, giving an already nerve-wracked Sam Seabury no time to duck into one of the nearby unoccupied rooms.
The man was muttering frantically to himself and didn’t seem to have noticed Seabury, so the bishop crept backwards, feeling along the wall behind him for a doorknob.
“This is idiotic. Bloody ambassadors—as if I don’t have enough on my mind—” The man was dressed fancifully in obscenely expensive clothing, although he was certainly beautiful enough to look good in anything he wanted to wear—
Sam pushed that thought away forcefully.
The man stalked down the hallway, pausing only long enough to tear the powdered wig from his head (“The damn thing itches, and I refuse to wear it any longer!” he yelled back into the room he’d emerged from) exposing a head of pinned-up, wavy dark blonde hair, and eliciting a small gasp from Sam, who was somewhat appalled at such rough treatment of such a lovely wig.
Upon hearing Sam’s shocked noise, the man turned and spotted him across the overlook. “Perfect. You will do just fine,” he murmured, stalking around the balcony-corridor to the other side where Sam cowered, petrified.
“Sir,” he protested as the man grabbed Sam’s hand and yanked him into the nearest empty room. It could have been a sitting room, or a conference room, or a bedroom for all Samuel knew, because the next second he was pinned up against the neatly wallpapered plaster, and…being kissed?
Yes, his brain confirmed, that was exactly what was happening. That didn’t mean it made any sense, though.
The other man pressed his body against Sam’s with no explanation and roughly claimed his mouth, leaving him at a loss. It wasn’t very pleasant, but…it wasn’t really unpleasant, either. What was the etiquette for being suddenly kissed?
By the time Samuel’s brain caught up with his body (“Kiss him back, you’re supposed to do the kiss thing too, Sammy”), the man had pulled away, breathing heavily. Sam remained in his place against the wall, eyes wide, cheeks flushed, lips still slightly parted.
“Thank you for your service, sir,” the man said finally, and strode regally out the door.
“Um, sir—” Sam recovered his wits as best he could and followed him out, only managing to catch a glimpse of the blonde man as he turned down another hallway and disappeared.
Samuel stared after him, confused and discomforted, before turning to address one of the men—they, too, looked rich, he noted with trepidation—who were hovering around the entrance to the room from which the mysterious man had first emerged.
“Good sirs,” Samuel called across the overlook, “do you happen to know the name of that man who left his wig just there? Perhaps we should return it.”
Perfect, he congratulated himself. Very smooth.
The men collectively sneered at him, and he shrank back. Not smooth enough?
“Do you not recognize your King when you see him, colonial?”
Oh no.
Samuel Seabury gazed at the hall down which His Majesty King George the Third had disappeared, horror written across his face plainly.
Oh, dear.

@ask-sam-seabury Here’s the first draft of the thing. Should I post it to ao3? What say you? (mun or muse, or both, whatever strikes your fancy)