#selective school

[ckerouac]

So, I really love the selection of Tim Walz for VP and it’s taken me a moment to articulate why. I mean, obviously, Dem bonafides, he’s sharp, he’s funny, etc etc. But everyone in the Veepstakes fits that bill, Harris was spoiled for good choices.

But Walz offers something that the other men in contention don’t that I think will be incredibly useful in combating Trumpism.

He offers an example and an off ramp to the section of men who felt like they were Republicans by default, and so support Trump by default. There are a lot of Trump voters who are full on obsessive, but that’s not who we’re talking to. We’re talking to folks who grew up in Republican areas, or felt their hobbies didn’t line up with who a Democrat was, or didn’t feel represented by their image of a Democrat. You want to see it so you can be it, you know? Which is why Harris is so inspirational to a lot of segments of folks, but Walz is too.

He served in the military. He went to a state college. He’s your favorite teacher from your public high school. He’s your football coach who actually cared if you were passing your math class. He’s the guy you looked up to at school when your family sucked but this guy cared, and he helped you get out and make something of yourself.

He’s the neighbor who helps you jump your car. He’s your uncle who takes you hunting. He’s your Dad who loves teasing you at the Stare Fair. He’s you when he makes a mistake like his DUI and takes responsibility for it, and when he has the chance makes sure other can come back from similar mistakes. He’s you when you and your wife want so badly to be parents and IVF gives you the family you wanted. He’s you when he says ‘it had to be me’ and used his standing and power to protect vulnerable kids sponsoring the GSA at his school.

He gives the real life example to these men that they can be that football, fishing, hunting family man who wants to provide for his family, be that powerful, respected member of the community and use that power to feed kids in school. That it’s normal to enthusiastically work for a boss like Harris. That yeah those other guys are fucking weirdos, and you’re not a weirdo, are you?

That there’s a place in the Democratic Party for them. That they don’t have to default to being fucking weird.

I hope those guys see this example of masculinity and go… yeah, that’s me. That’s who I’m gonna be.

[riddlesrizzler]

SELECTIVE!mute r w mr

I NEED

1. Animagus reader w mr

2. Sick reader like so sick he's worried

3. Stressed reader

4. Yule ball

5. First argument like heated argument

6. Date night gone wrong

Any one of these or or my most FAVORITE

Setting the scene

We are laying in bed after not getting out of bed for the whole day because it's raining and IRONICALLY ENOUGH we have a pretty window right next to our bed so we're starring out and BOOM INCOMW CANNONBALL WORRIED MATTHEO RIDDLE SNACKS ON SNACKS ON SNACKS MOVIES CUDDLES AND MORE CUDDELS AND GUES WHAT???? MORE CUDDLES IM TALKING IN DEPTH DETAIL OF HOW THE SHEETS FEEL HOW HE SMELLS HOW OUR BREATHING IS IM SYNC THE WAY HE HOLDS US I MEAN COME ON DUDE LIKE PUPPY DOG "ILL DO ANYTHING FOR YOU"

I MEED HIM ON HIS TOES AT ALL TOMES HE NEEDS SOMETHING IM TALKING WHIPPED!!!!!!

But yeah anyone of those will do 🙄😉

Sincerely, Thalia who absolutely adores selective mute!reader with mattheo riddle 💜

THAILIA!!!! YOU'VE GOT MY BRAIN WORKING!!!!!

he would be just sweet and patient with her because he is so used to screaming and fighting and now that there is silence, he is almost confused on how to handle it. my sweet babies!!!!

You sat curled up on the edge of the Astronomy Tower, knees tucked tight to your chest. The sky stretched out above you, wide and endless, but your chest felt small, squeezed tight with everything you couldn’t say.

The words were there-caught in your throat like tangled thread. Too many thoughts, too much pressure, too loud. You didn’t need to be alone, but you couldn’t bring yourself to explain it either.

The door creaked open behind you, but you didn’t look. You knew his footsteps by now-slow, careful, like he was always trying not to scare you off.

Mattheo didn’t speak. He never did right away. He just sat beside you, close enough that your shoulders brushed, and held out his hand, palm up.

You stared at it for a long moment before slipping your fingers into his. Warm. Steady.

His thumb traced slow circles across the back of your hand. You didn’t have to look at him to know his eyes were watching you-not with pity, but patience. Like he was willing to sit here forever if that’s what you needed.

“You don’t have to talk,” he said quietly. “You don’t even have to think, if it hurts too much. Just… breathe, love. I’ve got you.”

You blinked hard, the pressure in your chest softening just enough to let a tear slip down your cheek.

Mattheo leaned in, pressing a kiss to your temple. “When you’re ready,” he whispered, “I’m not going anywhere.”

[cloudinal]

(Very) belated Mitsuru birthday!

[queenofheartsdeservedbetter]

My personality is based on the books I'm reading, so sorry for being a different person every week

[aprilblossomgirl]

my favorite QL 2023 recaps: part 2 - Mark Pakin

Mark Pakin Kunaanuwit and his co-stars in shows throughout 2023.

GIF 1. The Warp Effect (2022-2023) - as Jedi with Best Jira as Rose

GIF 2. Moonlight Chicken (2023) - as Saleng with View Benyapa as Praew

GIF 3. My School President (2022-2023) - as Thiuson with Ford Allan as Por

GIF 4. Only Friends (2023) - as Nick with Neo Trai as Boston

GIF 5. Last Twilight (2023-2024) - as Night with Namtan Tipnaree as Phojai

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

def just an idea so no pressure- but I would love a selective mute reader who is besties with Ominous. I’m a Sebastian girly- but she call fall for whoever in universe bc I’m not great with ideas.

Love you 💕💕

Teal or Turquoise? | Ominis Gaunt x Reader

ANON - I love you too! Thank you for the beautiful prompt. I admit, I am not well-educated on the nuances and intricacies of selective mutism but I did some reading and I hope that this story thoughtfully captures your vision.

Words: ~3,400

Tags: Reader Insert, Female MC, No Y/N, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Big Time Fluff, LIKE SERIOUSLY THIS IS SO FLUFFY

The Astronomy Tower had always been your refuge at Hogwarts. It was quiet, far enough from the bustling common rooms and rowdy hallways to feel like a world of your own. The cold stone walls seemed to hold their breath, waiting for nothing, expecting nothing. It was perfect.

Ominis often joked that you had stolen his hiding spot. “This is where I come to escape the chaos,” he’d say, leaning on the tower’s railing with a smirk that softened his usually sharp features. You’d always reply with a small smile or a gentle nudge to his arm, the kind of unspoken exchange that needed no elaboration between the two of you.

Today was no different. The two of you sat cross-legged on the floor, snow falling softly in the air around you. A book lay open in your lap, though you hadn’t turned the page in quite some time. Ominis sat beside you, one hand gripping his wand, the other curled around a warm thermos of hot chocolate he’d charmed to stay warm. He wasn’t speaking, and neither were you.

That was one of the things you loved most about your friendship—there was no need to fill the silence.

“Still lost in that book of yours?” he asked after a while, his lips quirking in the faintest of smiles.

You shook your head, tapping the page lightly with your fingertip before nudging him with your elbow. He tilted his head slightly, his wand tracking the small gesture.

“Ah, so you’re watching me now, are you?” he teased, his voice warm and familiar. “What did I do to deserve such attention?”

Your smile was small but genuine, and for the first time in a few days, you found yourself speaking. “You’re more interesting than the book.”

The words were soft, almost tentative, but Ominis didn’t react the way most people would have—no wide-eyed shock, no overenthusiastic congratulations for having spoken at all. He simply let his smile widen ever so slightly.

"I'm flattered," he said smoothly, his voice carrying the faintest lilt of amusement. “Though I must admit, it’s a rather low bar. What’s the book about? Arithmancy perhaps? Potions? Or something as riveting as Hogwarts: A History?”

You rolled your eyes and nudged him again, this time with a little more force. “It’s Charms,” you murmured quietly.

Ominis hummed thoughtfully, his fingers tracing idle patterns along the sides of the thermos as the warmth seeped into his skin. "Charms, hmm? I suppose we've had enough Potions excitement in the past week with Sebastian's antics."

The mention of Sebastian made you smile despite yourself. It was true—the memory of your boisterous friend nearly setting his cauldron ablaze last week was still far too fresh in your mind. Still, you didn’t answer, content to let the moment linger in its comfortable quiet.

Ominis didn’t mind. He leaned against the wall, letting his head fall back as if listening to something only he could hear. For a moment, you allowed yourself to study him—the elegant curve of his jaw, the way his pale lashes brushed against his cheeks, the slight furrow of concentration between his brows that never seemed to fully fade.

You quickly averted your gaze, a subtle warmth blooming in your cheeks. It felt foolish to linger on such thoughts—Ominis was your best friend... and yet, somewhere along the way—though you couldn’t quite pinpoint when—that friendship had started to feel like something more.

You glanced down at your hands, fidgeting slightly with the corner of the book in your lap, though if Ominis noticed the restless movement, he didn’t say anything. Instead, he tilted his head slightly in your direction, his expression thoughtful.

“I was thinking, perhaps we could—”

The door burst open with a loud creak, and Sebastian’s voice boomed through the tower.

“There you are! I knew you’d be hiding up here!”

You flinched, startled by the sudden noise, and instinctively pulled your knees up slightly, the book slipping from your lap. Ominis turned his head in the direction of the intrusion, his lips pressing into a thin line.

Sebastian strode into the room, his presence filling the quiet space like a storm. Flakes clung to his dark hair and his cheeks were flushed red from the cold. He grinned broadly, brushing snow from his shoulders and looking between the two of you with a mock look of disapproval. “It’s snowing outside—properly snowing—and you’re just sitting here like a couple of house-elves on their day off. Come on, it’s tradition! A snowball fight, all of us outside. Let’s go!”

You shook your head quickly, waving a hand in polite refusal. Sebastian ignored it entirely, his grin widening as he gestured toward the door. “Oh no, no excuses this time. You’re coming. Both of you. Fresh air is good for you, you know. Builds character.”

Ominis sighed, long-suffering and patient as ever. “Sebastian,” he began, his tone calm but firm, “not everyone shares your enthusiasm for freezing to death in the courtyard.”

“Freezing to death? You’re being dramatic,” Sebastian shot back, crossing his arms. “It’s not that cold. Besides, it’s tradition, Ominis. You know, the thing we always do when it snows?”

“I don’t recall agreeing to that tradition,” Ominis said dryly, his lips twitching in the faintest hint of a smirk.

You smiled faintly at their back-and-forth but stayed quiet, hoping Sebastian would get the hint and move on.

But Sebastian, being Sebastian, wasn’t one to give up so easily. “Come on,” he pleaded, his tone shifting to something almost wheedling. “It’ll be fun. You’ll see. A little snow never hurt anyone.”

You sighed silently, once again attempting to wave Sebastian off. You lifted a hand and made a small pushing motion, hoping he’d interpret it as a gentle "no, thank you." But, unsurprisingly, Sebastian was undeterred.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “You can’t keep hiding up here forever. We’re your friends—we demand your presence!”

Ominis tilted his head, the faintest hint of irritation flickering across his features. “Sebastian, she doesn’t want to go.”

Sebastian blinked, caught off guard by the firmness in Ominis’ tone. “How do you know?” he asked, his confusion evident. “She didn’t say—”

“She doesn’t have to,” Ominis interrupted, his voice even but laced with finality. “Unlike you, I actually pay attention. And I know she’s perfectly happy here, where it’s warm and quiet, and she doesn’t have to listen to you yelling about snowball fights.”

Sebastian’s mouth opened as if to argue, but the words seemed to catch in his throat. For a moment, he looked genuinely taken aback, as though it had only just occurred to him that Ominis might know something he didn’t.

You watched the exchange with a mix of relief and guilt, unsure whether to feel grateful for Ominis’ defense or apologetic for putting him in the position of having to defend you in the first place.

But then Sebastian's gaze flicked between the two of you, realization dawning on his face.

“Oh,” he said finally, his voice softening. He ran a hand through his hair, looking vaguely sheepish. “Alright,” he said. “I get it. No snowball fights for the hermits. I’ll leave you to your… brooding.”

He turned back around and the door creaked shut behind him. The room fell silent once more, the faint whistle of the wind outside the only sound.

Ominis let out a quiet sigh, shaking his head as he turned back toward you. “I don’t know how he has so much energy,” he said, his voice soft and wry.

You smiled faintly, your gaze lingering on him as he reached for the thermos again.

After a moment, his expression softened. “Are you alright?”

You nodded resolutely, a small smile playing at the corners of your lips. You’d grown used to Sebastian’s unrelenting enthusiasm over the years—his energy was part of what made him… well, Sebastian. Still, the way Ominis had stepped in so effortlessly, his quiet understanding cutting through the noise, filled you with a warmth you couldn’t deny.

Ominis tilted his head slightly, as if studying your silence. He didn’t press further, trusting your nod for what it was, but something in his posture relaxed further when you leaned forward and reached for his hand.

Your fingers brushed lightly against his, tracing the smooth wood of his wand before carefully untangling it from his grasp. He let it go without question, his hand relaxing in yours as you gave it a gentle squeeze, his long fingers curling instinctively around yours.

You glanced at him again, tracing the elegant slope of his nose and the gentle part of his lips, the sharp line of his jaw, and the way the winter light softened the pale angles of his face. There was something so profoundly beautiful about him, a beauty that extended far beyond his aristocratic features—beyond the graceful lines of his profile and the delicate curve of his mouth when he allowed himself to relax.

No, his beauty lay in the quiet depth of him, in the way he simply understood.

Ominis had an uncanny way of cutting through the noise, of seeing people—not with his wand or the faint outlines of their presence—but with a deeper kind of clarity, one rooted in intuition and kindness. He never fumbled through the awkward sympathies others so often offered. He had never pitied you, never tried to "fix" you, never made you feel like the silence you carried was something that needed explaining. He simply accepted it, just as he accepted you.

And yet, that acceptance only made the ache in your chest deepen. It burrowed in, unshakable, a quiet yearning you were terrified to voice but felt all the same.

You didn’t realize how long you’d been staring until his soft voice cut through your thoughts.

“Is there something on my face?” he teased gently, a ghost of a smile playing at his lips. You stiffened slightly, your cheeks warming as you quickly looked away, but his voice stopped you before you could retreat too far into yourself. “Don’t,” he said softly, the teasing gone now. “I don’t mind. Really.”

You turned back to him, searching his face for any hint of insincerity, but there was none. Then he tilted his head, a familiar look of curiosity crossing his face.

“Can I ask you something?” he asked, his voice thoughtful.

You nodded, already prepared to give him your full attention.

“Can you… try to describe the color blue to me again?”

You blinked, your chest tightening as you remembered the first time he’d asked you that same question years ago. It had been during your fifth year, in a similarly quiet moment, when the two of you had been working together in the library. Back then, the question had caught you completely off guard, and you’d struggled to find the words, fumbling through clumsy metaphors and vague comparisons until he’d laughed softly and said, “Don’t worry. It’s impossible, isn’t it?”

And yet, he was asking again.

Ominis must have sensed your hesitation, because he tilted his head further, his expression softening. “You don’t have to if it’s too much,” he added hastily.

You shook your head, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “No,” you murmured softly, your voice carrying a gentle steadiness that surprised even you. “I would love to.”

His smile widened just slightly, a quiet encouragement that eased the tension in your chest. He didn’t say anything else, didn’t press or rush you. He simply waited, patient as ever, his head tilted toward you with that same thoughtful expression.

You took a slow breath, glancing beyond the tower where the snowfall blurred the edges of the world. “Blue,” you began, the word delicate on your tongue. “It’s… calm. Like the way the castle feels early in the morning, before everyone wakes up. Quiet and… soft.”

“It’s endless,” you continued, your voice growing steadier with each word. “Like the sky on a clear day… or the ocean when it stretches out so far you can’t see where it ends. Blue is... how the world feels after a storm, when everything is still and clean."

Ominis hummed softly, the sound low and thoughtful, as though he were letting the images settle in his mind. “...what about red?"

You paused. Red? He had never asked about that color before. Your fingers brushed the fabric of your skirt as you gathered your thoughts, unsure how to capture something so vivid and raw compared to the soft serenity of blue.

“Red,” you repeated softly, the word lingering on your tongue. You closed your eyes for a moment, searching for the right way to begin. “It’s… intense. It’s the opposite of calm, like fire—the kind that warms you on a cold night but can burn if you get too close.”

“It’s bold,” you continued, your voice gaining strength. “It demands to be noticed. Like the way the sun burns on the horizon at dusk, or the petals of a rose in bloom. It’s… like it’s always moving, always burning, always… feeling.”

Ominis hummed softly, his fingers tracing idle patterns on the thermos. The sound was contemplative, thoughtful, and carried with it a weight that made your heart skip. He tilted his head slightly, the faintest ghost of a smile playing at his lips.

“Red,” he said again, as though tasting the word. “...sounds a bit like Sebastian, doesn’t it?”

You blinked at him, startled by the comparison, but then quiet laughter escaped you before you could stop it. It was soft, barely more than a breath, but Ominis’ smile grew at the sound, as though it was exactly what he’d hoped to hear.

“And you,” he continued, his voice dropping to something quieter, more thoughtful, “you must be blue.”

The laughter died in your throat, replaced by a stunned silence as his words settled over you. Your chest tightened, your pulse quickening as you tried to process the weight of what he’d just said. “Me?” you asked softly, barely able to get the word out.

Ominis nodded, his pale eyes unseeing but somehow fixed on you in a way that made you feel completely exposed. "Definitely." Then, with a faint smile tugging at his lips, he added, “It’s a good thing blue’s my favorite color, isn’t it?”

You stared at him, the weight of his words pressing down on you, the ache in your chest growing heavier and warmer all at once.

You’re blue. Blue is my favorite color.

He tilted his head toward you, the faintest hint of a smirk playing at his mouth. “Though, for the sake of my sanity, let’s not tell Sebastian, shall we? He’d throw a fit, I’m sure. Something dramatic and unnecessarily loud about not being my favorite.”

You stiffened, unsure what you felt more: the thrill of his admission or the quiet terror that came with it. Ominis didn’t say things lightly—not like Sebastian with his boisterous declarations. Every word he spoke carried meaning, even when he tried to hide it behind humor.

And this? This was no different.

You wanted to say something, to let him know how much his words meant to you, but you couldn’t find the words—couldn’t trust your voice to steady itself enough to respond.

Instead, you reached for your bag, your hands trembling slightly as you pulled out the small notebook you always carried with you. Ominis tilted his head toward the sound, his expression curious but patient as you flipped to a blank page.

Your hand moved quickly, the ink bleeding into the paper as you scrawled out your thoughts in a hurried but deliberate hand.

When you finished, you turned the notebook toward him, your chest tightening as his hand brushed lightly against yours to find the edge of the parchment. His wand trailed along the page until it found the text, and he began to read, the faintest smile tugging at his lips.

“Ah, I see... working our way through the rainbow, hm?” he murmured, his voice quiet but tinged with warmth, “Alright, tell me about green, then.”

You hesitated for a moment, the enormity of what you were about to share making your chest tighten. But then you took a deep breath and began to write again. This time, the words came more slowly, each one deliberate, as if you were crafting something far too precious to rush.

When you finished, you turned the notebook back toward him, your fingers trembling slightly as you placed it in his hands. His touch lingered against yours for just a moment before he tilted his head toward the page. His wand found the first line, and you watched as his lips parted faintly, reading the words under his breath.

"Green is quiet and steady, never shouting for attention but always present. It’s subtle and unassuming, yet it fills every corner it touches with life and hope. It’s the sound of wind rustling through the trees, the softness of moss beneath your feet, and the earthy scent of rain-soaked ground. Gentle yet resilient, green endures—always waiting to grow, no matter how cold or dark the world becomes."

Ominis stilled as his wand hovered over the final lines, his breath catching ever so slightly.

“Green is my favorite color,” he read aloud, his voice soft and steady, though you could hear the faintest tremor beneath it. “And you're green.”

Ominis’ lips parted as though he wanted to say something, but no words came. His fingers tightened slightly on the edges of the notebook before he set it down slowly, carefully. His wand followed, placed deliberately on top of the pages, forgotten in the stillness of the moment.

Your heart was pounding so loudly you were certain he could hear it, each thud echoing in your ears and resonating in your chest. Your throat was dry, your breath shallow, and for a moment, you felt completely frozen in place. The only movement was the snow drifting lazily outside, its quiet beauty mirroring the fragile stillness between you.

Then, he lifted a hand, tentative and slow, as though unsure of himself. His fingers hovered in the space between you, searching, hesitant. You knew what he was looking for, and with the faintest movement, you leaned into his reach.

His fingertips brushed your cheek first, featherlight and cautious, before his palm settled against your skin. His hand was warm despite the cold, his thumb tracing an achingly gentle path along your cheekbone before moving lower, brushing the corner of your lips.

He hesitated, his fingers trembling slightly as he drew in a shallow breath. “...May I?”

You swallowed hard, heart thrashing wildly against your ribs. But you nodded. And then, slowly, achingly slowly, Ominis leaned in.

His lips met yours in a kiss so soft, so tentative, it felt like the gentlest of questions—a silent plea, a quiet wondering, seeking something only you could give.

You froze for the briefest second, your breath catching in your chest as the warmth of him flooded your senses. And then, slowly, you answered. You tilted your head ever so slightly, leaning into him, and with that simple movement, you gave him his answer. Yes. Yes, this was real. Yes, this was what you wanted. Yes, you were here.

His breath hitched, a soft, uneven sound that sent a warmth cascading through your chest, and the tension in your shoulders began to unravel. He relaxed too, his lips moving against yours with a quiet intensity, like he’d been waiting for this moment far longer than he’d ever admit. And maybe he had.

Maybe you both had.

When you finally pulled away, your foreheads rested gently against each other, your breaths mingling in the quiet stillness of the Astronomy Tower. Ominis’ lips quirked into a small, almost boyish smile, and you felt the light brush of his fingers against yours, warm and steady—a grounding presence amidst the rush of emotions coursing through you.

“Teal,” he murmured, his voice soft, threaded with amusement, though there was a flicker of something deeper beneath it—something tender.

You blinked, your brow furrowing in confusion. “Huh?”

“Teal,” he repeated, his smile growing slightly as he tilted his head toward you. “If I'm green, and you're blue… does that make us teal? Or turquoise, maybe?”

The unexpectedness of his comment startled a laugh out of you, the sound light and warm as it bubbled up in your chest. Ominis smiled at the sound, his expression softening into something so achingly tender that it left you feeling lightheaded.

“Teal, turquoise… what’s next? Aqua?” you teased, the corners of your lips tugging upward into a grin. “Or maybe cyan?”

He chuckled softly, the sound low and warm. “I suppose it doesn't matter, does it?” he asked, his voice dropping to something softer, something that made your heart ache. “Whichever one we are… it’s ours.”

[gofishygo]

why'd you only call me when you're high: john price/reader

notes: toxic relationship-ish, angst

"what's wrong, sunshine?" he murmurs in your ear, voice a quiet rumble not dissimilar to thunder. foretelling, a warning for a storm which you know that you have never seen firsthand, but rather have heard through legend. rumors from his colleagues about the man that lays in bed with you now.

but unlike thunder, he is never certain. while crackles in the air are a prelude to blue-hot light that buries itself into the ground, this is a dance, a back and forth, a call and a half-response. you think he hates you, and he doesn't say a word. you think he loves you, and the arm on your waist wraps around tigher. you only know that he refuses to leave, festering under your ribs and bubbling something- poison? love? in your marrow, and no matter how deep you dig, you can never fully wrench it out.

"what are we?" you echo, feeling his chin rest against your shoulder, slowly engulfing you from behind. you don't look at him, cannot look at him. the duvet ruffles under your weights and the acrid smell of the cigars he enjoys are already enough- cerulean eyes would suffocate you completely, fill your lungs up with whatever storm brews inside of him. and he replies, hand grazing your side trailing upwards, slowly, coming to clasp at your neck like some morbid necklace. "we can be whatever you want us to be, love." the pads of his fingers are too gentle on your neck, almost as if he is treading on eggshells. if you were any less tired, you would have noticed the curtness of his voice, how his lips seem to curl as he holds you from behind, face pressed against your neck.

whatever you want us to be, but there is a wrong answer.

You're here now, but when will you not be? You will forget again, you always do. its a silence that hangs heavy in the air, and you have no words left, because they have all been spilled in desperate texts and jumbled cries when you'd fell asleep alone, in a cold bed. spent all of them trying to reach for something, someone, that you do not even know is there. there is no reason for him to believe his words anymore, but you still holds on tighter, grasps for a hope that you knows will slip through your hands once again. But now, yours are over his, between his calloused fingers and your sweat-dampened skin, and you feel as whole as you can bring yourself to be.

[sergle]

yall are about to piss me off by not having any PASSING basic knowledge of the way the u.s. military manipulates its recruits into joining by typing up one of your uninformed, unresearched, unempathetic, individualistic, unbelievably annoying posts about how 100% of the people in the military ended up there because they just Love America So Damn Much! they're extremely mature and informed at time of recruitment, they can totally leave anytime they want, they totally had tons of other avenues in life they could've taken, there was no rush at all to get income as fast as possible, and everyone in the military also totally is part of the combat divisions and personally enjoys being IN the military very much, big believers of violence. everyone in the military is shooting guns all day, that's how that works. they LOVE BLOODSHED. also I love the "amewicans haha" twang to this type of shit because you're actually TOTALLY stealing our Thing, which is turning systemic issues into Individual Issues. Instead of talking about the powers that be, it's so Personal Choice up in here. It's, "well you shouldn't have done it then. I totally wouldn't because I know better." you don't wanna talk about the military industrial complex as a whole, and you don't want to talk about recruiters, you just want to pin the blame on Specific Individual People one-by-one, as if they're responsible for the system that they're being ground up in. someone was in the military? bad person, no matter what. it's easier to believe that, I guess, than to acknowledge that Normal People (with high school educations) are manipulated and incentivized into joining a system that is Bad. at like age 18. but yeah no that 18 year old should have just been smarter lol haha anyway here are some screenshots for no particular reason

side note this reply of someone going "umm just get loans and go into a high paying field it's easy XD" as a direct response to someone trying to explain how most americans joining the military are being funneled in that direction out of a need for money.

and another person who Decided that americans join the military just CLENCHING their teeth thinking of other people, and not thinking completely selfishly about their own selves and their own income/housing/healthcare.

[xxplastic-cubexx]

i dont even got a caption im just forcing all of you to look at him

[game-on-comics]

Caro: Welp, I’m a year older now…

Art by Caro

[nineteenfiftysix]

Selected Works & Projects: “2nd Gen" Tribute (06.02.20 - 03.23.24)

[howtodigatrench]

hi maple (@cureschmure) !! i was your partner for @precuresecretexchange !! i started watching mahou tsukai for your rq and thought their ruby outfits (spec. magical's) was kinda festive ! hope you like it, i had a lot of fun :D

[zenathezee]

If you told me in 2012 that College Humor, Smosh, and a brand started by some dudes from Buzzfeed are some of the most diverse and inclusive places on the internet I would not have believed you

[coochiequeens]

For every warm and fuzzy story about western celebrities using surrogates there's stories like these from the rest of the world.

April 01, 2025

The twins’ father, identified only by his surname Long, is a 50-year-old man from Jiangxi Province, southeastern China.

A shocking case has come to light from China where a 17-year-old allegedly acted as both a surrogate mother and egg donor for a 50-year-old man. According to the South China Morning Post (SCMP), he paid her over 900,000 yuan (approximately Rs 1 crore) to conceive twin boys. This incident has sparked outrage on social media.

The case surfaced on March 24 when Shangguan Zhengyi, an anti-trafficking activist, shared details on social media. The post revealed that the girl, from the Yi minority community, gave birth to twins after becoming a surrogate through an agency in the southern city of Guangzhou. The activist also provided evidence such as children’s birth certificates a “guaranteed success agreement" and other surrogacy-related contracts to support his claims.

As per the report, the girl, from Liangshan Yi Autonomous Prefecture in Sichuan Province, southwestern China, was born in May 2007. She delivered male twins on February 2 in Guangdong Province, southern China. At the time of embryo implantation, she was only 16 years old.

The twins’ father, identified only by his surname Long, is a 50-year-old man from Jiangxi Province, southeastern China. Long reportedly signed an agreement with Guangzhou Junlan Medical Equipment Co. Ltd., which included a surrogacy fee of 730,000 yuan (nearly Rs 86 lakh). He specifically requested twin boys as part of the agreement.

The contract also stated that the girl would serve as both the surrogate and the egg donor. Long, who is unmarried, allegedly pretended that the girl was his wife to obtain birth certificates and household registrations for the twins. He paid over 900,000 yuan but it is unclear how much of that amount actually went to the girl.

The Guangzhou Municipal Health Commission has launched an investigation. Although surrogacy is not explicitly banned in China, various regulations prohibit the practice.

Wu Zhenhua, a lawyer from Beijing Yedi Law Firm, said the surrogacy agency could face charges for illegal business activities and unlawful medical practices.

“Organising minors to participate in surrogacy constitutes harm to minors and may involve trafficking of women and children or intentional injury," said Wu as quoted by SCMP.

“The fabrication of documents and household registrations may violate laws against forging, altering, or trading official government documents. As for the male client, he may be considered an accomplice to crimes such as aiding illegal business operations or intentional injury," Wu added.

Social media users expressed their anger over the incident with one person writing, “Reading this news really broke my heart. As a mother, I know how exhausting and painful pregnancy can be."

Another commented, “Women are not vessels. Medical institutions that facilitate surrogacy must face criminal charges. A fine of just a few thousand yuan is far from enough."

[doomdaysdecays]

i want to kill myself but im watching another old barbie movie w my mom instead

[ave-immaculata]

if a teacher at a Catholic school is a poor role model of the moral life in a public way, they should be fired, simple as. if a teacher at a Catholic school cannot accurately describe and vocally affirm the teachings of the Catholic Church when asked, they should be fired, simple as. if a teacher at a Catholic school is known publically to be a non-practicing Catholic, they should be fired, simple as. Close schools if there aren't enough staff. I don't care. I'm sick of our Catholic schools disobeying the Bishop, the Church at large and pushing relativistic nonsense onto students as Catholicism.