kpforpresident

[kpforpresident]

[kpforpresident]

“omg you’re so creative. how do you get your ideas” i hallucinate a single scene in the taco bell drive thru and then spend 13 months trying to write it

[kpforpresident]

i always see people saying that lexa’s face after clarke kills finn is one of surprise because she’s realising that clarke could have just as easily killed her. and while i’m sure that could be the case, i always saw it as lexa being completely stunned and sickened by her guilt. we know that losing costia was a key point in lexa’s life and caused her to view love as weakness, and i think that she saw clarke, bloodied and crying over her first love and holding a knife and burdened by leadership, and thought of herself and felt so guilty that she’d just watched clarke lose her first love, just like she did, because of her own orders.

#people loving lexa in our year of 2024? #hell yes #clexa

[kpforpresident]

I do trust you, Clarke.

I know how hard that is for you.

#lexa my love

[kpforpresident]

i think its so funny that alumni from schools like harvard and columbia that were there during the protests in the 60s-80s are expressing support for students currently protesting against the genocide in palestine, and random zionists that were NOT at these protests in the 60s-80s have the never ending audacity to tell these alumni "well thats different, what you protested was good and what they're protesting is bad." as if protesters against the vietnam war and apartheid south africa were not also demonized, arrested, brutalized, and even killed for their activism. history only remembers them fondly after the damage has already been done.

[kpforpresident]

Watercolor. 2016.

[kpforpresident]

She expensive 💅

#i- wow-yeah #ny au clexa #lexa all dressed up for some fancy law gala #phew chile #clexa

[kpforpresident]

Alright, to ao3's soon to be arriving Wattpad Refugees, a basic guide to general user culture:

1.) Unlike Wattpads vote system that let's you like each chapter, the ao3 equivalent kudos only allows one per work. Everyone is generally quietly annoyed about this. To engage with each chapter, you're heavily encouraged to comment. Trust me, it makes people's day.

2.) Ao3 has no algorithm. By default it's latest updated work first. You can find things to your taste through searches, filters and tags.

3.) 'No archive warnings apply' and 'user has chosen not to use archive warnings' mean two very different things. No archives warnings means the work is free from any content that could require a warning tag (character death, graphic depictions of violence, non-con, etc). User has chosen not to use archive warnings means it could contain any of the warning content, be it hasn't been explicitly tagged. Treat it like an allergen. No archive warnings apply is allergen free. User has chosen not to use archive warnings, may contain traces or whole chunks of the allergen. If you're likely to have a bad reaction, maybe don't take the risk.

4.) Speaking of warnings, ao3 has very few restrictions on the type of work that's allowed. Whatever your personal thoughts or feelings on that are, thats how the site is. You're likely to run across some dark subject matters and a lot of people are uncomfortable with reading that. You're well within your rights not like these works and have your opinion on whether they should be allowed, but harassing the authors of such works (or any works) is more likely to come back on you than them. Ao3 operates on a strong policy of 'don't like, don't read'. Use the tagging system to your full advantage to only engage with the kind of works you want to see.

We look forward to welcoming you all and seeing the fantastic works you create. Happy writing!

#welcome to the gong show kids

[kpforpresident]

Hi kids! I am going to have a little more free time coming up soon- if you have any prompts or things you are burning to see or read- send them my way

#clexa #kpwrites

[kpforpresident]

i hate you private jets i hate you bitcoin i hate you cars that go 200 mph i hate you golf parks i hate you yachts i hate you huge mansions with a pool i hate you luxery resorts i hate you exessive wealth causally killing the planet and using up ressources we all need

[kpforpresident]

Clexa kiss, author’s choice.

Author's choice- good morning

Lexa wakes up slowly as a soft but chapped pair of lips slowly skim the curve of her waist, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. They inch their way higher, gentle presses of kisses raining down on her shoulder, her neck, the sharp cut of her jaw. She flops onto her back without opening her eyes, reaching blindly for her girlfriend of five years with warm, sleepy hands. 

“Hmmm- good morning, love,” she quietly whispers as her  questing hands finally find Clarke’s waist and seize their prize, pulling her closer. Clarke giggles slowly as she lets herself be reeled in. Thighs slot together and sleep-warmed skin presses close as the girls meld themselves together, the quiet peace of the night still lingering between them. A few sleep-drenched kisses are shared between them, Clarke snuggling closer to tuck her head beneath Lexa’s jaw- her favorite place to doze. They sit in comfortable silence for a few moments, simply enjoying the closeness, the syrupy endless possibilities of this Sunday morning. 

 Lexa mananages to pry her eyes open as Clarke flails blindly for a linen sheet, managing to grab it and drag it over their bodies. She squeezes Clarke’s shoulders as she manages to wake up slightly, wiggling herself up to prop herself against the call. Clarke whines slightly at being moved but lets it happen, still flopping tiredly over Lexa. 

“First morning in the new apartment, babe,” Lexa says, her voice rising in excitement despite her half hearted efforts to temper it. She winces slightly as she looks around- the room they had chosen to be their bedroom was filled with brown boxes, some with Clarke’s messier scrawl, others with Lexa’s careful cursive decorating their sides. They hadn’t unpacked at all after the last box had been carried up the two flights of stairs to their new third floor apartment, opting instead of order the pizza with the great pepperoni and really great crust from their old neighborhood, giggling like school girls as they ate it off of the top of their unpacked kitchen appliance boxes, dancing in their new living room to old Ella Fitzgerald records- the one thing that they had unpacked last night. 

Lexa inched her way out of bed while she pressed one last loving kiss to Clarke’s lips, feeling Clarke smile into it as she also slowly pulled herself from her dozing. 

“Are you going to make coffee?” Clarke enquired hopefully as she sat up, golden hair sticking up every which way as she scrubbed at her eyes. Lexa looked over at the mattress on the floor as she rustled through a box of what she hoped was sweaters, looking for something to throw over her underwear before she walked through their still-curtainless apartment. 

“Yeah, baby- if I can find the coffee maker. And the coffee beans, and we have any creamer,” she realized with growing dismay as she stood, a blue sweater hanging in her hands. 

Clarke stretched with a quiet moan before getting up, padding over to her horrified girlfriend. She pecked her on the nose as she pulled the sweater out of her frozen hands, pulling it gently over the mane of brunette curls. 

“I packed it all in one small box and put it on the counter, so we wouldn’t worry about this,” Clarke said proudly, blue eyes sparkling as she found a faded green sweater and popped it on, the faded National Geographic print hanging to mid thigh. She laced her fingers through Lexa’s and pulled her teasingly into their new kitchen, laughing as Lexa stumbled behind her lovingly, blindly. She wacked her shin on a heavy box labeled books as she followed behind Clarke, hopping as she tried to regain her balance.

“Babe, when are you the organized one?” Lexa yelps as Clarke pries open the box, holding their favorite local beans up proudly as she digs out their Chemex with her other hand, glowing. 

Clarke presses one more loving kiss to her lips as she moves to put the battered kettle on the range. 

“Because Lexa, I love you so much, but you are an absolute terror without caffeine,” she says only partially jokingly, handing the colorful bag of coffee to Lexa to measure out.

“Hey!”

[kpforpresident]

They meet in an adult night class but they’re there for very different reasons

Clearly I’m a little confused about what an adult night class is so I went where my mind went, but reading it back I realized they probably meant like a night school class?! So forgive my oversight lol. I hope you still like it, anon. 

//

A dim red light glowed from the hanging fixtures, lending a seductive feeling to the room. Dark, slinky music poured from the speakers fixed into the corners. Lexa stood awkwardly in the corner of the darkened, mirrored room. Her gaze darted around uncertainly as she tried not to stare too long at any of the exposed midriff or cleavage on all the other students. Clad in a plain black tank top and soffe shorts that had seen better days, everyone else was in skin-baring bras and tight booty shorts. 

“Anya,” she hissed, grabbing her friend as she walked by to stretch on the wall, “where have you taken me??” 

Anya looked at Lexa, eyes flicking pointedly down to where Lexa had her bicep in a death grip. 

“Lexa, unclench, pull the stick out of your ass,” Anya whispered, prying Lexa’s fingers off of her arm. “It’s just a pole dancing class. You can handle an hour of hot sweaty women gyrating, you aren’t going to burst into gay confetti.” Lexa glowered but didn’t respond, biting her lip to hold back her snarky retort. 

A gorgeous woman- Raven, Lexa remembered from sign-in -with a long dark ponytail walked fluidly to the front of the room, talking confidently over the quiet murmurs of the students. 

“Everyone, welcome to Spin. Class will begin in about five minutes, please find a spot on the floor to stretch and get limber before we begin.” 

Lexa grumbled slightly but sank down obediently in her spot, stretching her legs out in front of her and bending to grab a toe. A gorgeous blonde sank down next to her, shooting her a radiant smile as she leaned forward, pressing her forehead to her thighs as she flexed her toes straight. 

Lexa watched, open mouthed. The woman was clad in a black bra that zipped up the front, somehow containing a mountain of pale cleavage within its confines. Tight black shorts stopped slightly above her belly button, abs flexing slightly as she bent and stretched. Her hair was clipped half up in a tortoiseshell claw clip, golden waves shifting slightly as she fluidly sank into the splits. Lexa knew she must look ridiculous as she openly gawked at the goddess next to her. 

“So,” the woman said in a slightly husky voice, “come here often?” 

Lexa laughed slightly at the ridiculousness of the statement. The blonde quirked an eyebrow, curious. 

“I’m Lexa,” Lexa said as she stuck out her hand. “And no, I do not. This is my first class, and I’m inflexible and slightly terrified. Are you new here, as well?” 

 The blond, radiant blue eyes twinkling, shook it firmly. She slowly unraveled herself from the floor and rose to standing. Among her, the other participants rose as well, each moving to stand next to a pole. Lexa looked around as she also stood, wondering what secret signal she had missed.

 “I’m Clarke, Lexa. It’s nice to meet you. And no, not my first time- I teach this class.”

[kpforpresident]

how about "38. because they're running out of time"?

Lexa smiles to herself as a pair of persistent, chap-stick coated lips press insistently to hers, disappearing for a breath before angeling back again. She gives herself over to the moment, running her free hand gently through painstakingly curled golden locks, careful not to muss them. Clarke tastes like the vanilla Burt’s Bees she applied earlier, the lingering taste of champagne coating her tongue as Lexa swipes gently through her mouth. 

Around them, people in various levels of cocktail dress from nice restaurant to ballroom ready mill around, admiring the bright and eclectic art pieces that are staged intentionally around the large, cavernous white room. A string band plays quietly in the back corner, the quiet clink of champagne glasses mixed with the murmur of chatter as people drink and talk. 

Lexa opens her eyes and pulls away gently, locking with a sparkling blue gaze as she does so. She glances at her watch- five minutes remain. Clarke presses one more playful kiss to her cheek, derailing her train of thought as her honeysuckle perfume clouds Lexa’s head pleasantly. She was wearing the same one as on their wedding day- the bottle that she only pulled out on special occasions, because she claimed, it’s good luck, Lexa. 

“See?” Clarke smirks as she angles away slightly, running both hands down her close-fitting black dress as she preens slightly at the attention. She gives a little spin under Lexa’s appreciative gaze, a flash of pale thigh peeking through as she twirls in her black heels. Slinky silver earrings hang from her ears to dangle just above her collarbones, her hair artfully mussed in the style she insisted was very popular among her Brooklyn art crew. Lexa straightens her own dark green blazer jacket with the hand that isn’t cradling a fluted glass before she passes it off to Clarke, snagging another one from a passing waiter. 

“You look beautiful, Clarke,” Lexa says softly, sincerely, as she takes a small step closer to her wife, slipping a hand to rest gently on her waist and smoothing her thumb over a hipbone. Clarke smiles into her glass as she takes a dainty sip, foregoing a verbal thank you for a physical one as she leans in for another kiss. Lexa tastes like the expensive, miniscule hors devours that had made their way around the room earlier, Clarke earning an extra adoring glance from a slightly distraught, food deprived Lexa when she had quietly let her know that she had ordered their favorite Thai curry to be delivered upon their arrival home later.

Lexa, ever the tactician, cuts her off with three shorter pecks, squeezing her tighter to cut off the protest she knew Clarke was sure to be brewing at being kiss-embargoed. 

“There’s plenty of opportunity for that later, love,” Lexa purrs as she gently nudges Clarke towards the three short steps up to the stage, where a bright spotlight and a microphone awaits her very talented wife. “But for now, we are out of time” 

Clarke gives her a blinding smile as she carefully climbs the steps, champagne glass cradled confidently in her right hand. She readjusts the mic as she surveys the impressive turnout, the modest brick studio in the heart of Brooklyn teeming with the best and brightest art talent on this side of the Hudson. Art collectors and enthusiasts alike turn patiently towards the stage upon its occupancy. A bright flash is seen from the back left corner, a photographer and writer duo from the Times surveying the scene with a critical eye.

Lexa holds her breath as Clarke carefully glances at her notes that are concealed on the podium, the dull roar of the room gently softening to a hush as hundreds of voices quiet. 

“Hi, everyone,” Clarke starts, her voice faltering slightly but then gaining power quickly as she chances a glance at Lexa. Lexa smiles encouragingly, hovering in the shadows at the bottom of the steps as she adjusts her hold on her glass, her nervous palm sliding slightly. 

“Welcome to the first annual art silent auction in my new gallery space- I’m so thrilled to see so many new and familiar faces! As many of you know, this mission is partnered with my wife, Lexa’s law firm, to help raise money and awareness for the nearby pediatric oncology ward…” 

Lexa smiles and relaxes with a soft sigh as she watches her wife shine onstage. 

[kpforpresident]

@sarahninaloca

[kpforpresident]

watching this youtube video about victorian haircare wherein the woman testing the products out inhales so much alcohol fumes she gets tipsy and that’s joining lead in everything, corsets, and doctors who cured hysteria with vibrators in “reasons why victorian women loved fainting”

[kpforpresident]

[kpforpresident]

Maybe this is the wrong platform to pose this question given the average tumblr user but

Is it just me or did our generation (those of is who are currently 20-30 ish) just not get the opportunity to be young in the 'standard' sense?

Like, everyone I talk to who's over 40 has all their wild stories about their teens and 20s, being young and dumb, and then I talk to my friends and coworkers and classmates, and we just... dont.