linked tree (includes options to donate to Ghanaian projects)

President Mahama has said he must scrutinise it before signing it, which would make it law. But the pressure that's been placed has already caused sentences to be reduced and exemptions to be made comparatively to previous versions. More pressure is important even if this latest update was made because of the way the President, facing much pressure, has assented. The last time a similar bill was passed it did not end up getting signed (by Ghana's last president President Nana Akufo-Addo), so this pressure is definitely not meaningless or without hope.

Jack loves to show you off.

You guys are home-birds. You love each others company and most days off are spent around the house just cooking, relaxing and watching stupid tv (and being fucked stupid).

But when you do venture out, he loves nothing more than to watch people stare at you. You’re young, beautiful and turn more heads than you know. So he loves to have his hands on you just so everyone knows who you go home with.

You’ll be in line for coffee and his hand is planted firmly on your waist, he fingers looping underneath the fabric just to be able to touch your bare skin. You giggle at the tickling sensation before he pulls you into a gentle kiss.

Or when you’re eating at a restaurant, he always asks for a booth. He doesn’t want you across from him, he wants to next to him, or ideally on him. His arm wraps around your shoulder, usually pulling your legs over his thighs just so he can trail his fingers on your inner thighs. That way, everyone can see who you’re going home with.

He loves to watch you with his friends, he see’s the way the hospital and SWAT guys look at you. When you’re at a bar with them, wearing low cut tops or short skirts. He knows no one will ever try anything. But god, he loves to watch them stare. The way Robby’s eyes flick between your face and you’re chest when you’re talking. Or the way Garcia watches you walk away, not even making an attempt to avert her gaze. He pulls you into his lap, hands rubbing all over your skin, comforting, as he whispers into your ear “you enjoying all the attention baby? See they can look, but that can’t touch can they?”

So after all that, when your in the front seat of his truck, he can’t even wait to get home. Just watching these people stare and be jealous has him hard on the drive home. So he can’t wait. He pulls to the side of the road, or finds a secluded stop under a bridge, fuck, even the corner of a parking lot will do. Because the seconds he’s stopped he’s dragging you over to his seat, hips bucking into you. His fingers tangled into your hair as you breathlessly kiss him. He fucks you right there, a man desperate to be inside his girl. Because who gives a fuck if someone sees, fuck, he hopes someone will see.

Oh im fucking sick to my stomach. Chill

her name was Marsha P Johnson, and we have her to thank for so much.

remember, the first Pride was a riot, and she was one of the brave souls who endured it to help carve the path which so many of us walk today. she helped found several activist groups regarding LGBT safety and wellbeing. and she was absolutely radiant, too.

*puts a dandelion in your hair*

supercut of us, a jack abbot college fic coming soon!

AKA the one where jack abbot accidentally knocks up robby's little (step)sister in his final year of college

Layla, you've got me on my knees.

The lyrics echo in his head, and for the first time in his life, they don't feel like hyperbole. If Clapton hadn't written it fifty years ago, Jack is pretty sure someone would have to write it about you tonight.

Begging darling please, Layla

He catches Chloe’s eye as his hands drop to your waist, and he immediately glances away.

They're not dating. They have zero obligations to one another.

So why does she look so pissed?

Darling, won't you ease my worried mind?

The guitar solo is screaming through the speakers, matching the frantic, heavy rhythm in Jack's chest. He looks down at your mouth, then back up to your eyes, and realises he is completely text-book losing his mind. A freshman bumps hard into his shoulder, but he barely registers it. He's entirely done with this crowded room, done sharing the way you move and the sweet smell of your perfume with a hundred drunk strangers.

Pulling you flush against his chest, he dips his head until his lips brush the warm skin just below your ear. “Come upstairs with me,” He murmurs, his voice tight with an impatience he doesn't even bother trying to hide.

He doesn't offer a lame excuse. He just pulls back to look down at you, waiting.

Instead of answering, you slide your hand up his neck, tilt your chin, and press your lips directly to his.

Jack lets out a quiet, defeated breath against your lips, his hands instantly sliding up your back to anchor you against him. The kiss is intoxicating, tasting like the drink on your breath and the heat of the room, completely shattering his usual composure.

he's blowing a load on your face and then licking it off. dragging his soaked tongue and mashing it against yours. he's fucking your face until his dick is covered in spit, then uses it as lube to slip inside you. cooing as you gasp at the stretch of him and slipping his thumb into your mouth to quiet your whines. he fucks you deep and hard, knocking you until you're at the edge of the bed and your head is hanging off.

you squeal around his finger, sending an upside down stare right towards the three men sitting across from the bed–all of them with stiff cocks and rough breathing as the watch gaz rail you silly.

"bleedin' jesus," johnny breathes out at the two of you, a wet stain on the pants he's already accidentally come in. squirming in a silent itch to get a little closer.

to his left sits john, who's flicking his darkened gaze between you and gaz, hand squeezing at his bulge every time you sob out a cock-drunk mumble of curses.

and to johnny right is simon. teeth clenched and eyes unblinking, his entire body pulses as he can't decide which one of you or gaz does he wish to switch places with...