The Opposite Of Our National Anthem, Which Is Basically What Our Country Represents Today

I know no one probably cares but they have changed the Berry Waffle Cone sent at Bath & Body Works!! That's my most favorite scent of all time and when I went there today because of all the deals they were having I was surprised to find a Berry Waffle Cone candle because they're usually very hard to find cuz it's a seasonal scent and I don't go to Bath & Body Works that often, but anyway when I go to smell the deliciousness of what this scent SHOULD be it is just somehow wrong!!

I would know because I have this sent as a candle, both types of lotions and the body spray which I hoard like it's nobody's business because it's my most favorite scent in the world and it's not guaranteed I'm going to get another one anytime soon

Don't get me wrong the candle I smelled today that claimed itself to be my beloved Berry Waffle Cone did indeed smell good BUT it just wasn't the same, I don't know why, my only guess is that they somehow tweaked the formula over the years but I want my OG sent back!

Bath & Body Works if you see this which you probably won't I beg you to tell me why it has changed, if it was simply because of a tweaked formula I asked you to somehow bring through the glory that is the OG Berry Waffle Cone or maybe I just happened to smell a bad candle or maybe my nose was wrong but when I got home and smelled my OG candle and it smelled how I expected it to smell, delicious, like a literal bakery, it's got kind of a warm bread smell but the sweetness to it as well is just so good and I love it but why has it't changed!? ┻⁠┻⁠︵⁠ヽ⁠(⁠`⁠Д⁠´⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠︵⁠┻⁠┻༼⁠;⁠´⁠༎ຶ⁠ ⁠۝ ⁠༎ຶ⁠༽

One of my favorite insults:

As useful as a soup Sandwich

I was talking to myself and came up with the line "instead they take the poisoned berries handed to them like they're a god-given cure" so here is poems based off of it

His words, a venom, sharp and sly,

Spilled from a mouth that never tries

To heal, to soothe, to lift the soul—

Only to poison, twist, and control.

Each sentence laced with bitter sting,

A heavy blow from a hollow king.

In every tweet, in every speech,

He reached to tear, to bruise, to breach.

Promises dripped in bitter hues,

A master of the darkest news.

He weaved his lies, with artful grace,

A smirk upon his troubled face.

The truth, a casualty in his fight,

As facts dissolved in the toxic light.

Yet those who hear his wicked call,

Fall deeper still beneath his thrall.

For words like these can tear apart,

They plant a seed, corrupt the heart.

But in the end, though loud they roar,

The poison fades—truth stands once more.

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Instead they take the poisoned berries handed to them like they’re a god-given cure—

Bitter fruit, with a lethal allure,

That promises healing, but leaves them to rot,

Feeding on lies that they’ve been taught.

His words are sweet, his smile a mask,

A gentle whisper, a dangerous task.

“Trust me,” he says, “I’ll make it right,”

But darkness blooms where there once was light.

Instead they take the poisoned berries,

Blind to the thorns that twist within,

They taste the venom, convinced it’s sweet,

And fall to the rhythm of their own defeat.

The cure they seek is a cruel disguise,

For in each berry, a sorrow lies.

They drink the poison, the whispers, the lies,

And wonder, too late, why the world still dies.

But when the dawn breaks, they will see—

The berries were never meant to set them free.

And in the ruin, the truth will stir:

No god gives poison—only a deceiver.

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**The Poisoned Gift**

Instead they take the poisoned berries,

Handed to them like a god-given cure—

A promise painted red and sweet,

A bitter gift, they eat and eat.

His words, like fruit with lethal glow,

Drip false hope where doubt should grow,

And in their hunger, they take the bite,

Believing venom tastes of light.

"Trust me," he murmurs, with hungry eyes,

While shadows stretch and truth lies tied.

They crave the healing, the promised ease,

Blind to the thorn that digs, that bleeds.

The berries cling, like secrets kept,

Wrapped in pride and swallowed deep.

And they, in thrall, in dreams secure,

Let poison pass as if it's pure.

But when dawn breaks, the fog will clear,

The truth lies sharp, like shattered mirrors—

No god gives poison as a cure,

Only deceivers, cruel and near.

Oh my God this is probably the best thing I've seen in a while! Thank you for sharing your amazing Creation with the world

oh man im so sleepy i cant see straight, but im done!! Shindeku animation set to the tune of Welcome to My Parents House by NSP (with some emic on the side) i started yesterday and finished right before midnight! go me <3

Reimagined Green Eggs and Ham. Plz go follow her on TikTok @justayari (I think she's going to make a book with it!)

"I do not owe you eggs or ham" by Magaly Sosa:

I do not want green eggs, mmm I do not want green eggs and ham, I do not want them, sam I am, I said it once I said it clear, my no is real, it's rooted here, do not ask me in a house, do not ask me with a mouse, don't try a train or boat or box, I don't need tricks, I don't need talks, I said no kindly, I said it plain, why ask me once and ask again, I don't need pressure, I don't need fear, I don't need please set (said?) in my ear, you twist my words to make me bend, that's not persuasion, it's a trend, where 'no' means maybe and 'not now' gets questioned, poked then flip somehow, you call it fun, you call it game, I do not owe and I will not shrink, my sacred no, and Sam he blinked, he breathed, he knew, he bowed and said "I honour you"

“If I had a nickel for every time you asked me to take my clothes off I’d have two nickles which isn’t a lot but it’s weird that it’s happened twice, especially coming from someone who thinks I’m a kid, seems a little suspect if you ask me.”

(Homeless vigilanteed Izuku, dadzawa wanting to check the healed stab wound on his leg, dadzawa does not know his identity and only assumes he's a kid because of his size which is true but dadzawa does not know that)

Conditions May Apply by CinnamonPinecones on ao3 ~348,276 words (so far 119 ch. Waiting on updates) really good read 100% recommend 💖

**Beneath the Flag**

O land of promise, bold and bright,

Your stars once blazed a hopeful light,

But shadows fall where dreams decay,

As gilded hopes drift far away.

Skies of blue and fields of green,

Hide truths beneath a painted scene,

Where wealth divides, and justice sways,

And voices fade in endless haze.

Cities hum and highways roar,

Yet many struggle, wanting more;

The streets are paved with stories lost,

And freedom bears a quiet cost.

A land of plenty, yet denied,

Where broken dreams and secrets hide.

...Where hope and hardship still collide.

......Where shadows linger, hope entwined.

Where hands reach out but come back bare,

And promises hang in the air,

A country torn, a dream betrayed,

As weary hearts still hope for aid.

@Eric Michael: You can’t logic someone out of a position they didn’t logic themselves into.

*The Wreckage He Left*

He came with swagger, full of might,

A showman draped in blinding light.

Promises spun like a carnival wheel,

But behind the glow was cold, hard steel.

He whispered rage to hollow souls,

Poured gasoline in hidden bowls,

Igniting fears, fanning hate—

Turning hearts to a darker state.

He crushed the weak with careless words,

Let greed take flight like hungry birds.

Ignored the pleas of those in pain,

Left them stranded in the rain.

Children torn from open arms,

Families shattered, dreams uncharmed,

He built his walls and watched them cry—

A border crossed by silent sighs.

He mocked the earth, dismissed its plea,

Laughed off its fires, its rising seas.

Turned away from our dying lands,

While forests burned beneath his hands.

And justice, too, he pulled apart,

Broke its spine, unbound its heart.

Bent laws to suit his shifting game,

And turned our values into shame.

Now left behind, a fractured place,

With wounds that time must now erase.

A nation scarred, but still we stand,

To rebuild, renew, with steadier hands.

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Things will get better, they have to. They can't stay bad forever, right?

Here's just a little sneak peek at the fun and amazing work of art that is called...

Airwaves Unscripted (PapaMic) by Chimera_Regarion on WP!

It's crack and it's beautiful and you should definitely go read it right this second- ANYWAY on to it...

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(Izuku Midoriya's POV)

"-and I swear, if I see one more hero posting a 'thoughts and prayers' tweet after doing jack shit to fix the problem, I'm gonna lose my mind." I say, drumming my fingers against the desk.

"Oh-ho, careful, Zuzu!" Dad snickers. "You're gonna make all the corporate heroes cry into their brand sponsorships!"

"Oh no, whatever shall they do? Maybe wipe their tears with the stacks of cash they made off merchandise while ignoring the civilians suffering right outside their shiny-ass agencies?*" I lean into the mic, voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'm just a kid, what do I know?"

"You know too much," Dad sighs dramatically. "Society's golden boy, how dare you think critically?"

"I know, I should be grateful!" I throw a hand up. "Look at me, a student at U.A., the peak of all human existence, training under heroes who definitely, absolutely, 100% never screw up or fail anyone! Right, Dad?"

Dad snorts, trying to hold in his laughter. "Oh, absolutely. Heroes are always perfect, and the system has zero flaws."

"Exactly!" I gesture wildly. "*Clearly, those people who get ignored, overlooked, or outright abandoned just didn't try hard enough. If they wanted help, they should've been conveniently located near a hero who was having a good day!"

Dad claps his hands. "And let's not forget the golden rule: If you're not 'hero material, then society's just not built for you! That's your fault, obviously!"

"Mmm, yes, let's talk about that!" I tap the mic. "my new brother, who totally doesn't hate my guts-hi, by the way! spent his entire childhood being told he's villainous because his quirk is scary. Meanwhile, I-quirkless, useless, disposable-got the same treatment but for a different reason. Because society loves picking favorites.*"

Dad hums. "It's almost like... the system is designed to benefit a select few while leaving the rest to rot?*"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, careful now, Dad." I gasp. "That almost sounded like criticism! We can't have that! You're a pro hero! What if people start thinking for themselves?!"

"Perish the thought!"

"Exactly!" I slam my hands down. "Heroes are the good guys, and if you dare question anything about them, you must be anti-hero or pro-villain! Those are the only two options, right?"

Dad dramatically wipes a fake tear. "It's so simple when you put it like that, Zuzu."

"I try." I smirk. "Wouldn't wanna burden people with nuance or critical thinking. That's dangerous, you know."

"Super dangerous."

We both pause. The silence lingers for a second, stretching just long enough to be uncomfortable.

Because it's not really a joke.

We mean every word.

"Anyway," I shake my head, breaking the moment. "Let's move on before we accidentally wake up the morality police. What's next?"

Dad glances at his notes. "Ooooh, this one's fun! 'Heroes with their own energy drinks-a discussion on capitalism, branding, and selling out!"

I groan. "Oh, kill me now."

Dad cackles. "Buckle up, partner, it's gonna be a wild ride!"

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... Please go read it, it's crack and I'm living for it