Why is there a diarrhea parasite outbreak in America?
Because Donald Trump and his Republican allies cut funding to disease prevention and control.
Why is measles back in America?
Because Donald Trump and his Republican allies, including RFK Jr, cut vaccine and measles prevention funding and programs.
Why is the New World Screwworm infecting cattle in Texas, when it had previously been eliminated from the area?
Because Donald Trump and his Republican allies, including Elon Musk, cut USAID funding, which in part worked to monitor and prevent screwworm outbreaks.
Why was there a flu outbreak in our armed forces?
Because Donald Trump and his Republican allies, including Pete Hegseth, cut vaccination requirements for our armed forces, putting all of them at risk alongside our military readiness.
What contributed to the Covid outbreak?
Donald Trump and his Republican allies cut funding to a pandemic prevention program in his first term because Barack Obama had created it.
“America first” sends its regards. Trump voters, please learn your lesson. And if you don’t, it’ll be taught to you again with yet another diarrhea outbreak.
Please give credit to Matthew Cortland, the disabled lawyer and activist whose work is reflected in that last screenshot. They work hard on documenting what Trump and his cronies have been doing & they deserve credit.
With the haunting Adeline movie apparently being a thing.
another disgusting book getting an adaptation before an actual good one
I fucking hate the society we live in where slop and the glorification of rape is being upheld by middle age women who have nothing but a rose toy and a fuck ton of delusions. (Seeing as they are the ones defending this shit the most)
Imagine not seeing that the book glorifies rape, and here you are defending it…you probably tell victims a whole lot of fucked up stuff I’m guessing.
Dark romance shouldn’t glorify or romanticise rape or obsessive stalking that borderlines into a fucking kidnapping and a side order of Stockholm Syndrome.
It should be anything but that. Yet it’s going to be shown to people who have less awareness and media literacy than a fucking rock.
Callmekris was right but you acted like children about it.
someone summed it up perfectly in a tiktok comment where they said they missed when dark romance was about mafia guys killing people for messing with their significant other.
Kandinhale is a story-driven short RPG game in which you'll have to escape from the clutches of Kandinhale, the company that owns almost the entire consumable market in this idyllic candy world.
fun fact: it’s scientifically impossible to find a rick grimes fic on tumblr without the reader being infantilized, no more than 21 years old, white, in a sundress, bratty and practically a child
SOME THINGS TO CONSIDER BEFORE YOU READ! this is an x reader experience, however i have provided your character with an established backstory and pre-outbreak profession. that being said, your appearance is 100% ambiguous (excluding your female anatomy and pronouns). your ethnicity, body type, etc, are at no point specified.
each chapter has its own set of warnings specific to its contents and any potential triggers will be tagged accordingly. recurring themes such as violence, strong language, sex, sensitive subject matter, and death are the main topics to be wary of. if you’re familiar with twd, you’ll know what to look out for and what to avoid.
hiyaya — maybe that trope with bucky where its like:
“wheres your boyfriend?” “
hes not my boyfriend.”
“does he know that?”
The sun is sinking low, orange light spilling across the lake behind the Wilson house, music playing low from a speaker someone dragged outside. You’re barefoot in the grass, nursing a sweating bottle of beer, laughing at something Joaquin just said when a voice drifts in from your left.
“So,” the guy says, leaning a little too close. Some friend-of-a-friend Sam invited. Cute in a harmless, gym-bro kind of way. “Where’s your boyfriend?”
You blink. “My what?”
He gestures vaguely over your shoulder. “The tall one. Broody. Looks like he could bench-press a car.”
You don’t even have to turn to know who he means.
You shrug, feigning innocence. “Oh. Him? He’s not my boyfriend.”
The guy pauses.
Slowly grins.
“Does he know that?”
You snort. “There’s nothing to know.”
It’s true. Technically.
You and Bucky aren’t dating. There was no conversation, no labels. Just a slow slide into something that looks suspiciously like commitment. Movie nights that turned into falling asleep on his chest. His spare hoodie living permanently on the back of your chair. Him showing up at your place after missions without knocking, like he belongs there.
But you never said the word boyfriend.
And neither did he.
The guy nods like he’s just been given permission. “So he wouldn’t mind if I—”
A shadow falls over you.
Heavy. Familiar.
Warm.
You don’t turn around. You don’t need to.
Bucky’s voice comes from directly behind you, low and even. “If you what?”
The guy straightens immediately. “Nothing. Just talking.”
“Yeah,” you add lightly, taking a sip of your beer. “Just talking.”
Bucky’s metal hand settles on the small of your back.
Possessive. Casual. Unmistakable.
The guy glances between you.
“Thought you said he wasn’t your boyfriend,” he says to you, smirking.
You shrug again. “He’s not.”
Bucky goes very still behind you.
You can feel it—the way his chest stops moving for half a second. The way his hand tightens just slightly at your back.
The guy raises his brows at Bucky. “You hear that?”
There’s a beat.
Then Bucky says, voice soft and dangerous, “Yeah. I heard.”
The guy laughs nervously and excuses himself within seconds, something about checking the grill. You watch him go, amused.
Then you finally turn.
Bucky’s staring at you.
Not angry.
Not exactly.
But something is simmering there.
“You’re not my boyfriend,” you repeat, teasing.
His jaw ticks.
“Funny,” he says evenly. “Could’ve sworn I’ve been acting like one.”
You tilt your head. “Have you?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” He starts counting on his fingers. “Carry your groceries. Fix your sink. Sleep in your bed three nights a week. Threaten any guy who looks at you too long.”
“I never asked you to threaten anyone.”
“You never asked me not to.”
You bite back a smile.
He steps closer, crowding you just enough that your breath catches. His fingers hook into the belt loop of your shorts, tugging you in until your chest bumps his.
“So,” he murmurs, “I’m not your boyfriend.”
“Correct.”
His eyes darken.
“And you’re single?”
“Technically.”
“Technically,” he repeats, like the word offends him.
You’re enjoying this far too much.
“Why?” you ask sweetly. “Does it bother you?”
His laugh is short and humorless.
“Does it bother me,” he echoes, then leans down until his mouth is brushing your ear. “You know what bothered me?”
“What?”
“That guy thinking he had a shot.”
You hum thoughtfully. “Maybe he does.”
Bucky’s hand slides from your belt loop to your hip, gripping harder now.
“Don’t,” he warns quietly.
“Don’t what?”
“Pretend you don’t know.”
Your pulse is hammering. He smells like smoke and soap and summer air. His thumb presses into your waist like he’s staking a claim he hasn’t technically made.
“You’re not my boyfriend,” you whisper again, just to see what he’ll do.
That does it.
He pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes.
“Fine,” he says flatly.
And before you can process the tone, he turns.
And walks away.
Your stomach drops.
You didn’t expect that.
You stand there, watching him retreat toward the dock, shoulders tight, hands shoved in his pockets. He doesn’t look back.
Well.
Shit.
You make it maybe thirty seconds before following him.
He’s at the end of the dock, staring out at the water like he’s contemplating swimming to another state.
“Buck,” you say softly.
He doesn’t turn. “You’re single. Shouldn’t be out here with me.”
You wince.
“I was joking.”
“Didn’t feel like it.”
You step closer. The wood creaks under your feet.
“You know you’re the only one I want.”
Silence.
“That’s not the same thing,” he says finally.
You swallow. “Then what is?”
He turns then, and the look on his face knocks the air out of you.
Not angry.
Hurt.
“I don’t share,” he says simply. “Never have. Don’t plan on starting now.”
“I’m not sharing.”
“You just told a guy I’m not your boyfriend.”
“Because you never asked to be.”
That stops him.
You step into his space now.
“You never said it. I didn’t want to assume. I didn’t want to scare you off.”
Bucky stares at you like that possibility has never once occurred to him.
“You think I scare that easy?”
“I think you’ve lost a lot,” you say gently. “I didn’t want to push.”
His throat works.
Then, softer: “You think I’ve been sleeping in your bed, holding your hand in public, memorizing the sound of your laugh because I’m… casual?”
Heat creeps up your neck.
“When that guy asked where your boyfriend was,” he continues, stepping closer again, “I liked it.”
Your breath stutters.
“I liked that people assume I’m yours.”
You blink.
“You are,” you say immediately.
“Then say it.”
The lake is quiet behind you. The music faint from the house.
You step fully into him, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.
“You’re my boyfriend,” you say, steady this time. “You’re my grumpy, possessive, terrifying boyfriend.”
Something in him softens.
“And you’re mine,” he says.
“Obviously.”
A ghost of a smile curves his mouth.
“Good,” he murmurs.
Then he kisses you.
A hand in your hair, the other firm at your waist, like he’s sealing something in place. Claiming. Confirming.
When he pulls back, your lips are tingling.
“So,” you say breathlessly, “does that mean you know?”
Just a small rant… We can ignore but idk I need to get words out and this weekend is going to be hard for me due to my loss and whatever
But as a person who feels deeply with emotions, sympathy, empathy, literally everything in that category….
I don’t understand how people can come around after someone loses a loved one and just… lack human emotion? Like completely disregard that there’s a group of people who are vulnerable and truly affected by losing someone they loved more than anything in the world and you’re just existing in this same space as them in the moment and disrespect or truly just don’t seem to care about the situation at hand.
Like how can people function without basic feelings? I beg so affected by the smallest thin gas if I see another person sad or hurt and I genuinely can’t understand how other humans don’t function the same way
Let's Try This Again.. Shall We? @trinpooki - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
