#augustine institute

[theologyforthelayman]

Why This Catholic Curriculum is a Game-Changer

Join us in this enlightening discussion as we explore why the Word of Life Catholic Curriculum is a true game-changer! I’m William Hemsworth, and in this episode, I’m honored to welcome Dr. Ben Akers, Associate Professor of Theology and Chief Content Officer at the Augustine Institute. We delve into the revolutionary aspects of this K-8 religious education program, developed in partnership with…

[direwombat]

i need to wordsmith this paragraph but...sometimes u gotta romanticize the things u (a lapsed catholic) remember from church

[floripire]

meet: wade rivers

[rabbitcruiser]

National Higher Education Day

National  Higher Education Day is celebrated on June 6 every year to recognize  the importance of education in improving our lives. To excel in your  dream job, it is important to have the latest knowledge in that field,  which can be attained through higher education. Millions of young and  old people take time out on this day to make plans to get a higher  education and think about the options that they have by researching scholarships, potential career choices, and even doing a bit of job-shadowing.

History of National Higher Education Day

National  Higher Education Day was founded by Izamar Olaguez and Marcie Hronis in  2015. The main purpose behind celebrating this day is to motivate  students to pursue higher education and make college fees affordable for  all. Each year, hundreds of students and universities unite to spread  awareness about National Higher Education Day in the U.S.

The  federal government signed the Higher Education Act in 1965. The main  purpose of signing this act was to improve the higher education programs  of educational institutions in the U.S. and offer monetary assistance  to students who are unable to afford their college fees.

The  Higher Education Act was backed by both the federal and national level  governments. Individual states also developed a similar program to  support students who want to enroll in colleges and universities for  higher education. Making higher education accessible is the primary goal  of National Higher Education Day. This includes motivating and funding  students to get enrolled in an undergraduate or a postgraduate degree  program.

National Higher Education Day also initiates various  activities, which are continued all year round. It helps students get  useful information on how to get scholarships and prepare themselves  both mentally and financially for pursuing a higher education degree in  the U.S.

National Higher Education Day timeline

1850 America's Educational Boom

More than 200 higher education institutions are established in the U.S.

1862 The Morrill Act of 1862

New western states create colleges for agricultural, mechanical, and military sciences.

1900 Association of American Universities

Presidents of Ph.D.-granting universities unite to develop policies for higher education

1918 American universities and WWI

American universities create special training courses for military personnel in WWI.

How to Celebrate National Higher Education Day

Raise awareness for higher education

Opt for educational counseling

Become part of an online community

Celebrate  National Higher Education Day by posting about the benefits of higher  education online and on various social media sites with the hashtag  #NationalHigherEducationDay. Moreover, you can also post interesting  pictures related to your education and your upcoming academic goals. You  can share how your school, college, or university has groomed you in  both your personal and academic life.

If  you are still unsure about your future studies then now is the perfect  time to discuss this with a trained professional. Through a professional  counselor, you can get the right type of assistance to develop your  educational plan and pick the right type of college and courses based on  your interests, skills, and abilities.

You  can join an online community on Facebook or any other social networking  site that you frequently use. You can interact with other fellow  students who are a part of a similar undergraduate or postgraduate  degree program. Through these communities, students get to share free  educational resources and help each other get paid and unpaid  internships that are specifically offered to college and university  students.

5 Facts About American Colleges That Are Worth Knowing

A quirky college club

Doctor of Amphibious Letters

World's biggest library

Girl power

5,000+ colleges

There's  a Squirrel Club at the University of Michigan with more than 400 active  members that come together annually to feed squirrels.

Kermit the frog was awarded an honorary doctorate from Southampton College.

Harvard boasts the world's biggest library with over 15.8 million items of reading material.

There are more than 60 female colleges in the U.S.

There are around 5,000 higher education institutions in the U.S.

Why we love National Higher Education Day

Employees can excel in their current fields

It gives tips for finding college scholarships

It appreciates the efforts of college students

This  day inspires those working professionals who want to advance in their  respective fields. Getting a postgraduate degree can help professionals  get familiar with the latest market trends that are in sync with their  current fields. Higher education also helps people learn interpersonal  skills that can turn them into valuable assets for their future  organizations.

Pursuing  a higher education degree requires a financial commitment. Higher  education can be rewarding for those who want to switch to a new field  or excel in their existing field of study. However, most students don't  consider going to a college or university after school due to a lack of  financial support. The good news is that there are different scholarship  programs for students that are funded by the government and private  organizations. Some of these private organizations are directly  affiliated with different colleges and universities of the country.  Students can either directly reach out to these organizations or apply  for a scholarship program through their college or university.

This  day is also celebrated to appreciate the efforts of students who are  already receiving a higher education. Education after school is not free  in the U.S. Students are required to pay their tuition fee alongside  other college expenses including conveyance and many end up accumulating  large amounts of student-loan debt.  To pay for these expenses, many students have to do part-time jobs,  which again can be quite challenging to manage alongside their studies.  This day, therefore, is a great way to appreciate the efforts of these  hardworking students and motivate them to complete their higher  education.

Source

[untitlzd]

rich boys don't get dirty

top!park sunghoon x btm!male reader smut

After a strange blog post makes its rounds, Y/n is already on edge. While rushing down the hallway, he accidentally bumps into Sunghoon, spilling tea all over his pristine white shirt. It could’ve ended there—but Sunghoon doesn’t let things slide.

a continuation of ''silence doesn’t stop rich boys.'' & continued in "rich boys don't lose."

warnings: elitism, power dynamics, possessiveness, semi-public sex, rough sex (kinda?), some praising and degrading, unprotected sex, no prep, lowkey inspired by gossip girl.

Y/n was still dizzy from that night at Jake’s penthouse. The memories flickered behind his eyes like the afterimage of a camera flash—bright, disorienting, and impossible to ignore. Every glance, every whispered word, every brush of skin lingered in his mind like a wine stain on silk: impossible to clean, even if you tried. He’d hoped that time might dilute the tension, bring clarity, or at least let the city’s rhythm carry him past it. But Manhattan didn’t pause for introspection—and neither did Jake Sim.

Jake still moved through the polished corridors of St. Augustine’s with that signature ease: every step calculated, every smile polished to perfection. Nothing about him had shifted. Not his posture. Not his expression. Not the untouchable air of someone born with secrets and taught never to drop them. It was unsettling how well he wore the mask. Unsettling... and, in some twisted way, comforting.

Because despite everything, Y/n couldn’t say things had changed between them—not outwardly. Their connection still lived in stolen glances and wordless tension, the quiet understanding that bloomed in shared silences. But something had cracked beneath the surface. 

Jake’s touch lingered now. His fingers brushed just a second too long across Y/n’s wrist. A palm hovered at the base of his spine. A thigh pressed under a desk—deliberate and slow. There was a new weight to it all, something close to possession, and far from accidental. In their world, nothing was meaningless. Especially not touch.

Y/n didn’t lean in, but he didn’t pull away either. He watched. He waited. Stillness was a skill here, and patience was armor.

But even a perfect performance could be ruptured by one thing: the blog.

It was gospel in their world. Not just read—followed, worshipped. The kind of institution that could break a trust fund kid faster than a scandalous divorce or a dropped IPO. It didn’t matter how careful you were. When that notification hit—sharp and distinct as a gavel—it cut through everything.

Conversations stopped. Phones lit up. Eyes flicked to screens with the urgency of addicts chasing a fix.

This time, the post was simple.

A grainy photo. Blurry hallway. Shadows. A figure entering a guest bedroom.

Jake.

Y/n’s blood turned to ice.

The image was just vague enough to be deniable—but to him, it may as well have been high-definition. He recognized the hallway. The moment. The angle. And the caption?

“guest list was private. so who’s slipping into places they don’t belong?”

Fuck.

Y/n’s hands tightened around the edges of his school uniform blazer. He pulled the fabric closer, as if it might shield him from the wave of cold crawling up his back. His steps echoed down the corridor—too loud, too fast. His mind reeled. Should he call his father? The man whose firm name protected their family’s reputation like armor? Or should he confront Jake? Demand answers? Apologies? Or maybe he just needed to walk. To not stand still long enough to panic.

Because in this city, names like his could be scrubbed from history in a single rumor. 

He wasn’t born into whispered legacies and summer homes in Tuscany. His power came from crafted strategy. From effort. And effort didn’t impress anyone here.

Which is why, when he turned the corner—distracted, anxious—he didn’t notice the figure in his path until it was too late.

The impact was jarring. A sharp slap of shoulder against chest, a splash of liquid, the hollow thunk of a paper cup hitting the floor. Silence followed, stretched taut like a pulled wire.

And then Y/n looked up.

Park Sunghoon.

Sunghoon was one of those people who seemed immune to chaos. His posture never broke. His tone rarely wavered. But his eyes always said enough. He was elegance without effort, manners without warmth. Y/n had never figured out exactly where the Park family fortune came from—only that it had existed for so long it felt like the bloodline itself bled gold. He, Jake, Y/n and others stood at the top of the social food chain at St. Augustine’s, but Sunghoon was the most enigmatic. Reserved. Impossibly polished. A ghost at charity galas, a blur on Monaco racetracks. His entire existence whispered wealth and control—not loud, not bragging. Just... undeniable.

He wasn’t intimidating because of what he had. He was intimidating because he never had to explain it.

Now, standing in front of Y/n, a half-empty cup of tea dangling from his fingertips and his pristine white uniform shirt soaked clean through, he looked like something carved out of old money and diamond-cut confidence. The tea had turned the fabric translucent—almost clinging—making the faint outlines of his toned torso suddenly, undeniably visible.

Y/n’s gaze caught on the defined lines of his chest, the subtle curve of his waist, the elegant slope of his collarbone. He didn’t mean to look. It just... happened. A second too long. A beat too still. And when he tore his gaze away, he felt the warmth bloom across his cheeks, betraying him in a way words never could.

But Sunghoon didn’t speak.

Not at first.

His eyes raked over Y/n with practiced disinterest, jaw locked, expression unreadable. His silence was heavier than yelling.

Y/n swallowed, carefully. “I didn’t see you, I—”

“Obviously,” Sunghoon snapped, interrupting. His voice was low, but edged like a knife. “You never do. You walk around here like it’s all yours. Like the uniform gives you permission to forget who you are.”

Y/n’s heart stammered in his chest, but his face remained composed. “I said I’m sorry. I can—”

He didn’t get to finish.

Sunghoon stepped forward, grabbed Y/n by the wrist with cool, firm fingers, and yanked him down the corridor without another word. No room for protest. No explanation. The door to the marble-floored bathroom swung open and slammed shut behind them with a resonant echo.

He let go only to strip the soaked shirt from his body in a single smooth motion. Then, he tossed the wet fabric at Y/n with precise contempt. It hit his chest, heavy and damp.

“Wash it,” Sunghoon said, voice like silk threaded with steel. “Old-school. With your hands. You do know how to clean something that doesn’t come with instructions, don’t you?”

Y/n stared at him. His fingers clenched slightly around the fabric, but he didn’t rise to it. He didn’t have to.

Sunghoon turned away, retrieving a second shirt—crisp, folded, untouched by scandal—from his bag. He slipped into it effortlessly, movements meticulous.

He didn’t face Y/n when he spoke again.

“You pretend like you’re one of us,” he murmured, tone almost idle. “But this place wasn’t made for people who think money is something you earn.”

Y/n looked up, voice calm but clear. “And yet I’m here.”

Sunghoon paused. A twitch at the corner of his mouth. Then he moved to the door.

“88 Fifth Avenue,” he said without turning. “Penthouse three.”

There was a beat of silence before he added, more quietly—

“Try not to spill anything this time.”

And with that, he was gone.

For the next two days, Sunghoon didn’t speak to Y/n. He didn’t look at him in the hallway, didn’t nod in acknowledgment when they passed in the courtyard, didn’t even breathe in his direction during the late-morning economics seminar they both sat in—the only shared class that tethered their routines.

It wasn’t a cold shoulder. It was worse. It was complete, surgical dismissal.

And it drove Y/n insane in a way he couldn’t quite articulate. Because he didn’t crave attention—not in the loud, performative sense of it. But he despised being underestimated, overlooked, or worse—forgotten. And Park Sunghoon knew that. Knew it so well he didn’t even need to weaponize words. He could reduce someone like Y/n to silence with a glance withheld.

Y/n wasn’t used to chasing the current. He was used to directing its flow.

So when he finally reached for his phone one Thursday night—long after the campus had dimmed and the skyline outside his window melted into velvet black—he didn’t think twice. The text was short. Barely more than an address and a time.

Tomorrow. Midnight. Don’t be late.

He deleted the thread after sending it.

When he arrived at the penthouse the following night, the doorman didn’t blink before letting him in. The elevator climbed in total silence, numbers glowing gold as the city fell away beneath him.

By the time he stepped out into the sleek, dim hallway of 88 Fifth, his nerves were a live wire. He wasn’t sure what version of Sunghoon he’d find tonight—apathetic, aggressive, elegantly cruel—but he wasn’t turning back. Pride wouldn’t let him.

The door opened before he could knock.

Sunghoon stood in the doorway barefoot, dressed down in a crisp navy sweater and slacks that looked casual only to the untrained eye. His gaze swept over Y/n like a scan—impersonal, slow, deliberate. There was no greeting. Just a silent nod toward the interior.

The penthouse was exactly what Y/n expected—clean lines, a museum-level art piece above the fireplace, everything curated to whisper generational wealth and architectural precision. He followed Sunghoon past the living room and into a study that smelled faintly of cedarwood and leather-bound books.

It was almost too quiet.

Then Sunghoon finally spoke. “You’re late.”

“I’m two minutes early.”

“And yet, I’ve already waited.”

Y/n didn’t answer. He just stepped further inside, letting his eyes skim the rows of antique shelves, the single crystal glass of something amber resting untouched on a marble tray. His voice, when it came, was low. Unapologetic.

“You don’t call people here without a reason.”

Sunghoon tilted his head slightly. “And you came anyway.”

A beat. Silence stretched between them, fine and fragile as thread.

“I wanted to return your shirt,” Y/n said evenly. “It’s clean. Hand-washed, like you so condescendingly instructed.”

Sunghoon’s lips curved, just barely. “I wasn’t expecting you to actually do it.”

“I didn’t do it for you,” Y/n replied, stepping forward until only a foot of space remained between them. “I did it to prove a point.”

“And what point was that?”

“That I’m not afraid of you.”

The room stilled. Sunghoon didn’t blink. But something shifted in his expression—something minute and dangerous, like the first tilt of a chess piece.

“You should be,” he murmured. “You don’t even know what you’re playing with.”

Y/n’s chin lifted. “No, Sunghoon. You’re the one pretending this is a game.”

A pause. The air between them grew heavy.

Then, without warning, Sunghoon moved.

He didn’t kiss him. That would’ve been too easy. Instead, he raised a hand and let his knuckles trail lightly down Y/n’s jawline—just enough to set every nerve alight without granting the satisfaction of contact.

Y/n didn’t flinch. Didn’t lean in. He just breathed—and it was shaky, goddammit.

Sunghoon’s voice was quiet, intimate in a way that didn’t ask for permission. “You’re still trying to figure out who I am.”

“I’m not interested,” Y/n lied, pulse racing.

“You are,” Sunghoon said, stepping even closer, their breath almost mingling now. “You’re just not sure if you want to understand me... or unravel me.”

Y/n’s throat went dry. He swallowed, but his voice remained intact. “And which would you prefer?”

That almost-smile returned, sharper now. “Surprise me.”

Then he stepped back.

As quickly as he’d closed the distance, it was gone—like heat leaving a room. The moment snapped.

Y/n exhaled, blinking once, twice. He felt simultaneously dismissed and pulled deeper, like being handed the first clue in a puzzle that wasn’t meant to be solved.

He didn’t stay long. Fifteen minutes, maybe. Just long enough to return the shirt, leave a verbal landmine or two, and let the echo of their proximity hang between them like perfume on collarbones.

But by the time the elevator doors shut behind him, Y/n knew two things for certain:

One — Sunghoon had never invited anyone to that penthouse without intention.

Two — whatever this was, it wasn’t over.

It didn’t happen all at once.

It started subtly, like fog creeping through cracks in the morning. A brush of eye contact across the quad that lasted a breath too long. A half-second delay when their shoulders passed in the hallway, neither boy quite moving out of the other’s way. No apologies. No acknowledgment. Just proximity that buzzed like a live wire under skin.

By Monday, the silence between them had transformed. It wasn’t avoidance anymore—it was anticipation. A taut string stretched between two points, daring someone to tug.

And it was chance that snapped it.

Lunch hour. The bathroom down the south hallway—less trafficked, tucked behind the library’s east wing. Y/n wasn’t planning to wait there. He just needed a moment. Away from the cafeteria noise, from the orbit of too many eyes. But when he pushed the door open, already mid-thought, he froze.

Sunghoon was at the sink.

The sleeves of his uniform were rolled just once, exposing clean veiny wrists. His posture was textbook-perfect. He didn’t look up, but something shifted—like he’d sensed Y/n’s arrival before the door even clicked shut.

Y/n lingered, hand still on the handle.

“You’ve been quiet,” he said.

Sunghoon met his gaze in the mirror. That reflection made it worse—elevated it into something cinematic, deliberate.

“You broke into my Saturday night and now my lunch hour?” he replied coolly. “You’re persistent.”

He turned off the faucet slowly, water dripping from his fingers in neat, measured taps, reaching for a paper towel with that unbearable Park-level precision.

“Persistent,” he repeated, tone dipping. “Or desperate.”

The words lingered in the citrus-scented air.

Y/n stepped forward, not even sure why. Instinct, maybe. Or something harder to name.

“Curious,” he corrected. “You’ve been watching me like I’m a puzzle you can’t quite solve.”

Sunghoon turned then, leaning back against the sink. Water darkened the back of his shirt, but he didn’t care. He looked almost amused.

“Maybe I’m waiting to see how long it takes you to realize you’re playing a game you can’t win.”

A distant bell rang beyond the bathroom walls. Lunch ending. Classes waiting.

Neither moved.

Y/n stepped closer, until there was barely a breath between them. “Funny. I was thinking the same thing about you.”

That was the trigger.

Sunghoon moved fast—no warning, no hesitation. His fingers wrapped around Y/n’s wrist with a sharp snap of contact, firm enough to anchor him in place. Y/n didn’t get a word out before Sunghoon pulled, dragging him past the sinks, past the mirror, into one of the stalls. The metal door slammed shut behind them.

He locked it. Quick. Mechanical.

Y/n’s back hit the tile with a dull thud. Not rough—just sudden. The air between them was tight and breath-warm.

Sunghoon didn’t step back.

His hand lingered, fingers still curled around Y/n’s wrist. The tips of them were flushed pink from the water—that soft, almost tender pink that made Y/n’s breath falter. The image stuck. Something involuntary twisted low in his gut.

“You really don’t know when to stop,” Sunghoon said. His voice was low, nearly flat—but the kind of flat that vibrates with warning.

And then—

BAM.

The bathroom door flew open. Loud. Careless. Footsteps echoed in—quick, sharp.

A pause.

Whoever it was had just stepped inside. The shuffle of a shoe scuffing tile followed. Then—

“Occupied,” Sunghoon called out. Crisp. Cold. Like a blade.

Silence. The footsteps hesitated… then turned. A retreat. The door swung shut again with a huff of finality.

They were alone.

Y/n's pulse roared in his ears. He hadn't moved. Couldn't.

Sunghoon's breath ghosted against his cheek, infuriatingly steady. Though his grip loosened, he didn't step back. His gaze dropped to Y/n's mouth—just for a heartbeat—before snapping back up with predatory focus.

The bathroom air grew thicker, the stall walls closing in around them. Just as Y/n opened his mouth to respond, Sunghoon's fingers dug into his waist, drawing a sharp gasp that echoed off the tiles.

"You want to play this game looking so pathetic?" Sunghoon's whisper was velvet-wrapped steel. "Tell me, has anyone ever touched you properly? Or do you just pretend to know what you're doing?"

Before Y/n could retort, long fingers tangled in his hair, yanking his head back against the stall door with a loud bang. The impact rattled the metal frame—a stark contrast to Sunghoon's careful whispers.

Y/n's nerves sparked as his body arched instinctively, his backside pressing flush against Sunghoon's growing hardness. The expensive fabric of Sunghoon's slacks did nothing to disguise the thick outline straining against him.

"You've wanted this," Sunghoon breathed against his ear, each word a brand. "All that arrogance, that superiority—just an act. Isn't it?" A deliberate grind drew another gasp from Y/n. "You're just a stray puppy begging for attention. Tell me—do you even deserve what you're asking for?"

The filthy promises in that cultured voice—usually so measured at galas and board meetings—sent heat coiling low in Y/n's belly. His own erection strained painfully against his zipper, the friction of fabric nearly unbearable.

"Someone could—ah—catch us," Y/n managed, rolling his hips back despite himself as Sunghoon's palm slid down to grip his thigh.

"Then shut the fuck up," Sunghoon commanded, his cultured whisper sharpening. "Unless you'd like to explain to the entire student body why you can't finish what you started."

His hips pressed forward with deliberate force, the thick outline of his arousal grinding against Y/n's backside through layers of expensive fabric. The risk of discovery hung heavy in the air—Sunghoon's breath remained perfectly even while Y/n's came in shallow gasps, his body taut with equal parts anticipation and apprehension.

With practiced efficiency, Sunghoon’s fingers made quick work of Y/n’s uniform trousers, pushing both pants and underwear down in one fluid motion. Then, in a gesture both clinical and devastatingly intimate, he loosened his tie and pulled it from around his neck. The silk slithered between his fingers like a living thing before he brought it to Y/n’s mouth.

A soft, involuntary sound escaped Y/n's throat as long fingers wrapped around his leaking erection, the slow drag of Sunghoon's palm sending electric currents up his spine.

"Pathetic," Sunghoon murmured against the shell of Y/n's ear, his aristocratic diction at odds with the filthy words. "You haven't even been touched properly and you're already this desperate?"

His thumb swiped across the glistening head, spreading precum with cruel precision.

"Tell me—do you always make such a mess when someone finally pays attention to you?"

Y/n's hips jerked forward into that maddening grip, his fingers clawing for purchase against the stall wall.

The sharp sound of his nails against metal seemed dangerously loud—

A firm slap landed across Y/n's cheek—not hard enough to bruise, but enough to make his eyes water.

"Disgusting, how you fall apart at the first touch. Like you were made for this." Sunghoon's hand never stopped moving, his pace brutal and perfect, twisting just the way that made Y/n's thighs shake. "You should be thanking me for even handling you. Though I suppose stray dogs need to be put in their place sometimes."

Somewhere beyond the stall, a faucet turned on. Sunghoon’s hand stilled instantly, his entire body going preternaturally still against Y/n’s back. The sudden absence of friction was its own kind of torture.

“Quiet now,” he breathed, his lips brushing the reddened shell of Y/n’s ear. “Unless you’d like our audience to hear exactly what happens to spoiled brats who can’t control themselves.”

The threat hung in the humid air between them, more intoxicating than any touch. The sound of running water from the faucet outside the stall seemed deafening in the charged silence.

Y/n felt the last shreds of composure unravel as Sunghoon’s belt buckle clinked softly in the confined space—a quiet, dangerous sound that sent his pulse skyrocketing. Before he could even process what was happening, the cool press of Sunghoon’s zipper against his exposed skin made him stiffen, the reality of their situation crashing over him in waves.

Sunghoon didn’t ask. Didn’t warn.

The first breach was brutal in its efficiency—his thick cockhead pressing against Y/n’s unprepared entrance with a single-minded determination that stole the breath from his lungs. Y/n’s fingers scrabbled against the stall wall, knuckles whitening as he fought to stay quiet, to stay still, to not give them away.

“Shhh,” Sunghoon murmured against the damp skin behind Y/n’s ear, his voice a velvet-wrapped threat. His hands gripped Y/n’s hips with bruising precision, holding him in place as he pushed forward with deliberate, controlled pressure. “You don’t want them to hear how tight you’re clenching around me, do you? Be a good boy. Take it.”

Y/n bit down hard on the silk of Sunghoon’s tie, the fabric muffling his ragged gasp as Sunghoon’s cock stretched him open with relentless intent. It was too much—the stretch, the heat, the way Sunghoon’s breath hitched ever so slightly when Y/n’s body finally yielded to him. The obscene slick of precum easing the way shouldn’t have been as filthy as it felt, but the wet sound of it, the way Sunghoon groaned low in his throat at the sensation—it unraveled something primal in Y/n’s chest.

Outside, the faucet still ran.

Sunghoon didn’t wait for Y/n to adjust. The first thrust was slow—agonizingly so—a deep, rolling push that dragged every inch of his cock against oversensitive nerves. Y/n’s entire body jerked, his teeth sinking deeper into the tie as Sunghoon set a punishing rhythm, each movement calculated to wring the most reaction from his trembling frame.

“Look at you,” Sunghoon breathed, his lips brushing the shell of Y/n’s ear with every word. “Biting down like some feral thing. Do you even know how pretty you are like this? Desperate. Messy. Mine.”

The water shut off abruptly.

Sunghoon stilled, his grip tightening imperceptibly on Y/n’s hips. The sudden silence was heavier than any touch, any word—a suspended moment where the only sound was Y/n’s ragged breathing through the gag of Sunghoon’s tie.

Footsteps faded, swallowed by the heavy thud of the bathroom door closing.

Y/n’s body went slack with relief—a fatal mistake. The momentary relaxation allowed Sunghoon’s cock to slide deeper, brushing against that devastating spot that made Y/n’s vision whiten at the edges. A filthy chuckle vibrated against his back as Sunghoon tightened his grip on the tie still stretched between Y/n’s teeth, the silk biting into the corners of his mouth.

“So dumb…” Sunghoon murmured again, his voice dripping with aristocratic condescension even as his hips snapped forward with brutal precision. The sharp slap of skin against skin echoed off the tiles, each thrust perfectly timed to wring another choked sound from Y/n’s throat. “Taking it so well…”

Y/n could feel his thighs trembling, his cock leaking against the stall wall as Sunghoon’s free hand wrapped around him, stroking in time with each punishing thrust. The air thickened with the scent of sweat, sex and expensive cologne, their movements increasingly erratic despite Sunghoon’s composed exterior.

“Not yet,” Sunghoon commanded, his breath hot against Y/n’s ear as he deliberately slowed his pace. The sudden denial drew a broken sound from Y/n’s chest, his body arching desperately into the touch. “Such a greedy thing. Do you really think you deserve to come?” His fingers tightened just shy of painful around Y/n’s cock. “Prove you can take it.”

The words sent a fresh wave of heat curling through Y/n’s stomach, his nails scraping helplessly against the stall door as Sunghoon resumed his relentless rhythm. Every drag of skin against oversensitive nerves pushed him closer to the edge, his body strung tight as a bowstring.

Y/n came with a silent scream, his body clamping down around Sunghoon as stripes of cum painted the stall door.

Sunghoon’s laugh was dark with triumph when Y/n’s hips began stuttering uncontrollably. “There it is,” he purred, voice rough around the edges despite his composure. “That desperate little tremor. I wonder—” A particularly sharp thrust stole what breath remained. “—how long you’ve fantasized about this. About being bent over and fucked dumb by someone who actually knows what to do with you.”

He buried himself to the hilt, groaning low as he emptied thick, hot ropes deep inside Y/n, fucking him through it until their mixed release began to leak out around his cock.

For several heartbeats, the only sound was their ragged breathing and the distant drip of a faulty faucet.

Then—

Sunghoon sighed with all the grace of someone who hadn’t just wrecked Y/n against a bathroom stall, adjusting his cuffs with practiced ease. His gaze raked over Y/n’s disheveled form, lingering on the bite marks blooming across his shoulders.

“Clean yourself up,” he said coolly, as though discussing the weather. “You look obscene.”

He didn’t pull out immediately. Instead, he pressed a possessive bite to the juncture of Y/n’s neck, the sharp pain blooming into a perfect purple claim beneath his lips.

“Remember,” Sunghoon murmured, finally stepping back with infuriating nonchalance, “this doesn’t make you special. Just convenient.”

The dismissal should have stung. Instead, Y/n’s lips curled into a slow, satisfied smile as he watched Sunghoon stride toward the door—his perfect posture the only tell of how affected he truly was.

note: hey everyone! popping in a bit earlier than i thought hehe. but you were all so sweet about what i wrote that i got super motivated to keep going! first of all — thank you so so much for all the love and kind words. seriously, it warmed my heart more than i can say t.t and second — good news! this little universe is getting a continuation, yay! maybe four chapters? i don’t know yet! i don’t wanna promise too much too soon, hehe. either way, i’m really happy and excited to keep writing for you all. thank you for being here, really. sending a big tight hug — take care and see you soon!

[unsolicited-opinions]

Leftist antisemitism is a symptom - American Jews and the Illiberal Left

TLDR: I think we would be wise to stop regarding leftist antisemitism only in its own context and habitually recognize it is a part of a larger issue, the rise of the illiberal left.

Why are Jews are the most reliable supporters of Liberal policies and politicians in modern American history?

Haviv Rettig Gur seems to suggest that Jews in the US, recognizing that Liberal values resulted in their (imperfect but historic) emancipation in the US, became perhaps the most Liberal people ever. They understood that US Liberal values were what made Jews relatively safe in the US, and offered them opportunities which had been denied to them everywhere else.

When previously did a head of state speak to Jews the way George Washington did?

Gur suggests that this is why American Jews have historically been so invested in the struggle of black folks in the US. When I say invested, I'm talking about facts like these:

- Henry Moscowitz was one of the founders of the NAACP.

- Kivie Kaplan, a vice-chairman of the Union of American Hebrew Congregations (now called the Union for Reform Judaism), served as the national president of the NAACP from 1966 to 1975.

- From 1910 to 1940, more than 2,000 primary and secondary schools and 20 Black colleges (including Howard, Dillard and Fisk universities) were established in whole or in part by contributions from Jewish philanthropist Julius Rosenwald. At the height of the so-called "Rosenwald schools," nearly 40 percent of Black people in the south were educated at one of these institutions.

- Jews made up half of the young people who participated in the Mississippi Freedom Summer of 1964.

- Leaders of the Reform Movement were arrested with Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. in St. Augustine, Florida in 1964 after a challenge to racial segregation in public accommodations.

- Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel marched arm-in-arm with Dr. King in his 1965 March on Selma.

- The Civil Rights Act of 1964 and the Voting Rights Act of 1965 were drafted in the conference room of Religious Action Center of Reform Judaism, under the aegis of the Leadership Conference, which for decades was located in the RAC's building.

When I was a child and asked my mother why Jews seemed overwhelmingly to be Democrats, I was told "because of FDR and the Civil Rights movement." That's not wrong, in Gur's framing, but perhaps a more shallow response than the question deserves.

In Gur's framing, US Jews realized that the promises of Liberalism, over and over, no matter how much they delivered for other peoples, did not deliver for black Americans.

Gur suggests that US Jews worked to see that change for their black co-citizens because if American Liberalism didn't deliver for black Americans what it appeared to promise to all Americans, the sense of safety, security, and belonging which Jews felt in the US was an illusion.

US Jews believed that we had common cause with non-Jewish American Liberals. We thought non-Jewish liberals believed what we believed about universal civil rights, pluralism, enlightenment values and enlightenment reason. When Jews saw the "In this House We Believe" signs on our neighbors' lawns, We felt comforted because those beliefs are also our beliefs.

We thought, for instance, that our non-Jewish friends agreed that Liberal democracies were better for human rights than any form of government in the history of human societies. We thought they agreed that religious, racial, and ethnic intolerance were social ills which needed to be fought with information. We thought they valued data, reason, and reliable sources.

Since 10/7/23, we've been learning that we were mistaken. We've seen gentiles who we thought shared our values seem to discard those values.

We saw college educated friends share antisemitic (and alarmingly familiar) conspiracy theories about Israeli puppetry of US politics and the return of Nazi and Soviet antisemitic slogans/images.

We've seen highly educated "Liberals" preach ahistoric nonsense denying that the Jewish people are from the Levant and willfully ignoring the huge swaths of historical fact which don't support their favored narrative.

We've seen friends rage against "globalists" and "Zionists," when what they mean is 'Jews'.

We've seen people who we thought were allies against all forms of racism justify their racism towards Jews as righteous through specious reasoning like 'I don't hate Jews, just the 97% of Jews who believe that Jews should have self-determination in their homeland.'

We've been told that we cannot ask them to temper their use of antisemitic tropes, because doing so "weaponizes" concerns about antisemitism to obstruct them from their righteous crusade against the most evil nation on earth...which happens to be the only Jewish nation.

Despite this, about 80% of Jewish voters voted for Harris over Trump.

I think US Jews will continue to be Liberals, because Liberal values are dear to us and aligned with our values as Jews, as a historically oppressed minority, and as Americans who see more clearly than some others the gap between the promise of American liberalism and its long-delayed universal delivery.

The problem, I think, is in how many of our former friends simply aren't Liberals any longer.

I think Jews in the US need to spend a good deal more time scrutinizing the illiberal left.

Nine days after the attacks of 10/7/23, Jonathan Chait wrote:

Writers like Michelle Goldberg, Julia Ioffe, and my colleague Eric Levitz, all of whom rank among the writers I most admire, have written anguished columns about the alienation of Jewish progressives from the far left. I think all their points are totally correct. But I find the frame of their response too narrow. They are treating apologias for Hamas as a factually or logically flawed application of left-wing ideals. I believe, to the contrary, that Hamas defenders are applying their own principles correctly. The problem is the principles themselves.

...

Liberals believe political rights are universal. Basic principles like democracy, free speech, and human rights apply equally to all people, without regard to the content of their political values. (This of course very much includes Palestinians, who deserve the same rights as Jews or any other people, and whose humanity is habitually ignored by Israeli conservatives and their American allies.) A liberal would abhor the use of political violence or repression, however evil the targets.

...

The illiberal left believes treating everybody equally, when the power is so unequal, merely serves to maintain existing structures of power. It follows from their critique that the legitimacy of a tactic can only be assessed with reference to whether it is being used by the oppressor or the oppressed. Is it okay for, say, a mob of protesters to shout down a lecture? Liberals would say no. Illiberal leftists would need to know who was the speaker and who was the mob before they could answer.

...

One observation I’ve shared with many analysts well to my left is that the debate over this illiberalism and the social norms it has spawned — demands for deference in the name of allyship, describing opposing ideas as a form of harm, and so on — has tracked an older debate within the left over communism. Communism provided real-world evidence of how an ideology that denies political rights to anybody deemed to be the oppressor laid the theoretical groundwork for repression and murder.

There have been conscious echoes of this old divide in the current dispute over Hamas. The left-wing historian Gabriel Winant has a column in Dissent urging progressives not to mourn dead Israeli civilians because that sentiment will be used to advance the Zionist project. Winant sounds eerily like an old communist fellow traveler explaining that the murders of the kulaks or the Hungarian nationalists are the necessary price of defending the revolution. “The impulse, repeatedly called ‘humane’ over the past week, to find peace by acknowledging equally the losses on all sides rests on a fantasy that mourning can be depoliticized,” he argues, calling such soft-minded sentiment “a new Red Scare.” Making the perfect omelette always requires some broken eggs in the form of innocent people who made the historical error of belonging to, or perhaps being born into, an enemy class.

But more than three decades have passed since the Soviet Union existed or China’s government was recognizably Marxist. And so the liberal warning about the threat of left-wing illiberalism seemed abstract and bloodless. On October 7, it suddenly became bloody and concrete. It didn’t happen here, of course. The shock of it was that many leftists revealed just how far they would be willing to follow their principles. “People have repeated over and over again over the last few days that you ‘cannot tell Palestinians how to resist,’” notes (without contradicting the sentiment) Arielle Angel, editor-in-chief of the left-wing Jewish Currents. Concepts like this, treating the self-appointed representative of any oppressed group as beyond criticism, are banal on the left. Yet for some progressive Jews, it is shocking to see it extended to the slaughter of babies, even though that is its logical endpoint. The radical rhetoric of decolonization, with its glaring absence of any limiting principles, was not just a rhetorical cover to bully some hapless school administrator into changing the curriculum. Phrases like “by any means necessary” were not just figures of speech. Any means included any means, very much including murder.

Both Julia Ioffe and Eric Levitz have pointed out that decolonization logic ignores the fact that half of Israel’s Jewish population does not have European origins and came to Israel after suffering the same ethnic cleansing as the Palestinians. This is correct. But what if it weren’t? If every Israeli Jew descended from Ashkenazi stock, would it be okay to shoot their babies?

The problem is much greater than leftist antisemitism. The illiberal left has become nearly as great a threat to Liberalism as the far right.

It is often the case that a movement’s treatment of Jews serves as a broader indicator of its health. It’s not an accident that the Republican Party has become more attractive to antisemites as it has grown more paranoid and authoritarian. What the far left revealed about its disposition toward Jews is not just a warning for the Jews but a warning for all progressives who care about democracy and humanity. The pro-Hamas left is not merely indicating an indifference toward Jews. It is revealing the illiberal left’s inherent cruelty, repression, and inhumanity.

I'm annoyed that it is has taken me so long to catch on and alarmed by the implications.

I am, however, very proud of my 14yo, who sums up her experience trying to respectfully disagree with leftists this way:

"They're allergic to nuance."

[whencyclopedia]

Stono Rebellion

The Stono Rebellion (also known as Cato's Rebellion or Cato's Conspiracy, 9 September 1739) was the largest slave revolt in the British colonies of North America. Led by an educated slave, Cato (also known as Jemmy), enslaved Black people attempted to flee from South Carolina to freedom in Spanish Florida but were caught and defeated by local militia.

Cato and others of the initial group of 22 were taken from the Kingdom of Kongo (modern Angola and DR of Congo), which supported a lucrative slave trade. Rulers of the Kingdom of Kongo in the 16th and 17th centuries kept a standing army of slaves, and it is thought that Cato and the others were former soldiers who had been captured after an engagement and sold into slavery.

How long Cato had been a slave is unknown, but the rebellion was later blamed on a recent influx of slaves from Africa, so it is likely he had not been enslaved long (though this is speculation). The revolt, blamed on this arrival of enslaved African soldiers, caused South Carolina to close its ports at Charleston to slave-trafficking ships for the next ten years and also led to the passage of the Negro Act of 1740 restricting slaves' lives further, prohibiting literacy among the slave population, and forbidding the freeing of slaves by their masters.

The Stono Rebellion may have inspired later revolts, including Gabriel's Rebellion (1800), the 1811 German Coast Uprising, Denmark Vesey's Conspiracy (1822), and Nat Turner's Rebellion of 1831. Even if it had nothing to do with any later uprisings, the Stono Rebellion is important in its own right as a strike against the institution of slavery and a stand for individual and collective liberty.

Background

Florida was claimed by Spain after Juan Ponce de León 'discovered' it in April 1513, and by 1559, large regions had been colonized by Spanish settlers. The English established the Jamestown colony of Virginia in 1607 and the colony of Carolina in 1663. When residents of Virginia objected to the political-social organization of Carolina – which included large plantations of cash crops such as cotton, rice, and tobacco and the political supremacy of large plantation owners – the colony was divided into North Carolina and South Carolina (the northern colony to serve as a buffer), both of which imported slaves.

Georgia was established by the anti-slavery reformer James Oglethorpe (l. 1696-1785) in 1733 and rejected large plantation farming and the institution of slavery that made it possible. To keep peace with South Carolina, however, Georgia allowed slave-catchers pursuing runaways to operate in their territory. If a slave in South Carolina wanted to escape to freedom, the only way was down through Georgia to Spanish Florida, evading slave-catchers the entire time.

Fort Mose Historic State Park, St. Augustine, Florida, USA

Ebyabe (CC BY-SA)

Florida welcomed escaped slaves, who, as long as they converted to Catholicism and served in the local militia, were granted their freedom. In 1738, Fort Mose was established near St. Augustine and garrisoned by escaped slaves, becoming the first legally recognized free Black settlement in North America. Florida sent out riders with written proclamations inviting any and all slaves to throw off their chains and make their way south to freedom.

Continue reading...

[flagwars]

Flag Wars 2: Round 1

In celebration of the two year anniversary of Flag Wars, this is a sequel to the original Flag Wars! Unlike most of the tournaments, it has no theme and can feature any flag, as long as it wasn’t in a prior tournament. All of these flags were submitted to the Flag Wars 2. This is going to be a very large tournament with a diverse selection of flags!

See the brackets below.

Round 1:

1. Tennessee vs. Royal Canadian Geographic Society vs. Samus Aran Pride Flag vs. Væroy, Norway vs. Girlfailure vs. Monsterfucker vs. Hatsune Miku Pride Flag vs. Unused Utah flag proposal

2. Malá Víska, Czechia vs. Axogender vs. Flag of the Shrimpocracy vs. The Keisterson Flag vs. Disability Pride Flag vs. Toxic Yuri Pride Flag vs. Kociewie, Poland vs. Nonoichi, Japan

3. Boguchansky District, Russia vs. Vráble, Slovakia vs. Crimean Tartars vs. New York Redesign vs. Anticorona (Heraldica Slovenica) vs. Rabies Pride vs. Nitra, Slovakia vs. Honeygender

4. Berber/Amazigh vs. Sutherland, Scotland vs. Romani vs. Starflake/L'etoile du Nord Flag vs. Floptropica vs. Estonia flag proposal vs. Pays Pourlet, France vs. Sunyer, Spain

5. NAVA 59 in Seattle vs. Biromantic (redesign) vs. Polish Naval Jack vs. Pilgrimage Brotherhood of St. Anne of Morašice vs. Bajookieland vs. Communist Mississippi vs. Kingdom of Rohan (Lord of the Rings) vs. Merya (proposed)

6. Bedfordshire, England vs. Ryki County, Poland vs. Vannes, France vs. Assyrian Democratic Movement vs. Idel-Ural State vs. Slowjamastan (micronation) vs. Lúky, Slovakia vs. New England

7. Martian Congressional Republic (The Expanse) vs. Groznensky District, Russia vs. Commonwealth of Dracul (micronation) vs. Kanepi Parish, Estonia vs. Rosalina Checkpoint Flag (Super Mario 3D World) vs. Moksha (proposed) vs. Dolní Dubňany, Czechia vs. Orientationgender

8. Wendell, Massachusetts vs. Don’t Tread on Wikipede vs. Western Armenia (proposed) vs. Quebec City, Quebec vs. Committee of Bakshir Resistance vs. Île de Batz, France vs. Republic of Avalonia (micronation) vs. Ainu

9. Bowsersexual vs. Personal Flag Day vs. Bonaire vs. Noxlibic vs. Flag of the mountain of Ještěd vs. Intersex Cardinal vs. Bristow, Oklahoma unused flag proposal vs. NAVA 56 in Saint Augustine

10. Russian Empire (private use, 1914-1917) vs. Flag of the Primary and Primary Artistic School Líbeznice vs. Flag of the Roman Catholic Parish of St. Michael Olomouc vs. NAVA 57 in Philadelphia vs. Templin Institute viz Buzdyaksky District, Russia vs. Latveria (Marvel) vs. Tulsa, Oklahoma

11. Flag of the Roman Catholic Parish of Šilheřovice vs. Palekh, Russia vs. Sudria vs. Belarus flag redesign vs. Sámi vs. Palmerston North, New Zealand vs. LGBT Purge Fund vs. Queer Chevron

12. Aruba vs. Transgender Acadiana vs. Asturias, Spain vs. French Polynesia vs. Rataje, Czechia vs. Antwerp Province, Belgium vs. Kuromify the World (Sanrio) vs. Filipino Empire (Roblox Rise of Nations)

13. Flag of Kunratice babies vs. Mothman pride flag (Flags For Good) vs. Voděrady, Czechia vs. Knightly Order of Saint Wenceslas EOSW vs. Barbieland vs. Kryštof Huk’s personal flag vs. New Caledonia vs. Ctiboř, Czechia

14. Crystal, Minnesota vs. Lincoln, Nebraska vs. Nivkh (proposed) vs. Dolní Černůtky, Czechia vs. Autistan vs. Neapolitan Pansexual vs. Romulan Star Empire (Star Trek) vs. Wellington, New Zealand vs. Personal flag of Masao Okazaki

15. Bisexuals of the Blade vs. Ayabaca, Peru vs. Bruntál, Czechia vs. Kirbyburgergender vs. Czech Rowing Club Pardubice vs. Vísky, Czechia vs. Mari Ushem vs. Raková, Czechia vs. Jolly Roger of the Buggy Pirates (One Piece)

16. Keystone Progress Pride Flag vs. Deaf Flag vs. Flintshire, Wales vs. Cornwall, England vs. Moravian Genealogical and Heraldic Society vs. Odřepsy, Czechia vs. Breadistan vs. Naval Ensign of Estonia vs. Slaughter Beach, Delaware

[mimi-0007]

𝗔𝗡𝗡𝗔 𝗝𝗨𝗟𝗜𝗔 𝗛𝗔𝗬𝗪𝗢𝗢𝗗 𝗖𝗢𝗢𝗣𝗘𝗥 (1858-1964)

Anna Julia Haywood Cooper was a writer, teacher, and activist who championed education for African Americans and women. Born into bôndage in 1858 in Raleigh, North Carolina, she was the daughter of an enslaved woman, Hannah Stanley, and her owner, George Washington Haywood.

In 1867, two years after the end of the Civil Wàr, Anna began her formal education at Saint Augustine’s Normal School and Collegiate Institute, a coeducational facility built for former slàves. There she received the equivalent of a high school education.

Anna Haywood married George A.G. Cooper, a teacher of theology at Saint Augustine’s, in 1877. When her husband died in 1879, Cooper decided to pursue a college degree. She attended Oberlin College in Ohio on a tuition scholarship, earning a BA in 1884 and a Masters in Mathematics in 1887. After graduation Cooper worked at Wilberforce University and Saint Augustine’s before moving to Washington, D.C. to teach at Washington Colored High School. She met another teacher, Mary Church (Terrell), who, along with Cooper, boarded at the home of Alexander Crummell, a prominent clergyman, intellectual, and proponent of African American emigration to Liberia.

Cooper published her first book, A Voice from the South by a Black Woman of the South, in 1892. In addition to calling for equal education for women, A Voice from the South advanced Cooper’s assertion that educated African American women were necessary for uplifting the entire black race. The book of essays gained national attention, and Cooper began lecturing across the country on topics such as education, civil rights, and the status of black women. In 1902, Cooper began a controversial stint as principal of M Street High School (formerly Washington Colored High). The white Washington, D.C. school board disagreed with her educational approach for black students, which focused on college preparation, and she resigned in 1906.

In addition to working to advance African American educational opportunities, Cooper also established and co-founded several organizations to promote black civil rights causes. She helped found the Colored Women’s League in 1892, and she joined the executive committee of the first Pan-African Conference in 1900. Since the Young Women’s Christian Association (YWCA) and the Young Men’s Christian Association (YMCA) did not accept African American members, she created “colored” branches to provide support for young black migrants moving from the South into Washington, D.C.

Cooper resumed graduate study in 1911 at Columbia University in New York City, New York. After the death of her brother in 1915, however, she postponed pursuing her doctorate in order to raise his five grandchildren. She returned to school in 1924 when she enrolled at the University of Paris in France. In 1925, at the age of 67, Cooper became the fourth African American woman to obtain a Doctorate of Philosophy.

In 1930, Cooper retired from teaching to assume the presidency of Frelinghuysen University, a school for black adults. She served as the school’s registrar after it was reorganized into the Frelinghuysen Group of Schools for Colored People. Cooper remained in that position until the school closed in the 1950s.

Anna Julia Cooper dièd in 1964 in Washington, D.C. at the age of 105.

[materialsscienceandengineering]

SI Derived Units: Electric Charge and the Coulomb

The named SI derived unit of the coulomb is the unit of electric charge, which can be positive or negative. The coulomb was named for Charles-Augustin de Coulomb and officially recognized as a unit in 1881, after the ohm, farad, and volt had already been recognized.

Mathematically, the coulomb is represented by the capital letter C. In base SI units it is equivalent to 1 A s. The coulomb does not have many equivalent units in other unit systems, but 1 C equals approximately 3x10^9 statC or 6.2x10^18 e, where a statC is a statcoulomb (also known as the franklin or esu), used in CGS units, and e is the elementary charge.

Sources/Further Reading: (Wikipedia: Coulomb, Electric charge - image source) (Metric System) (Rochester Institute of Technology) (Tennessee Tech)

[theologyforthelayman]

The Augustine Institute and Ignatius Press Renew Catechesis in Completed Word of Life Curriculum

Denver, CO, June 10, 2024—As any catechist can attest, old models of passing on the Catholic faith to the next generation grow less effective by the minute. This generation desires new methods to learn the faith and be invited into a relationship with Jesus. To answer this need, Catholic publisher Ignatius Press united with the Augustine Institute, known globally for its dynamic Catholic content…

[allthecanadianpolitics]

CONTENT WARNING: This story contains graphic details about residential “schools” that many will find distressing or triggering. Please look after your spirit and read with care.

The unmarked and shallow graves of 40 children have been identified near the former St. Augustine’s residential “school,” according to the shíshálh Nation which announced the findings today.

Part of an ongoing archeology project with the University of Saskatchewan, researchers launched a formal investigation of the institution early last year — an effort which has included scanning with ground-penetrating radar.

Chief yalxwemult’ Lenora Joe said that the GPR has sadly revealed what appear to be “shallow graves, only large enough for the young bodies to lay in a fetal position.” 

The findings were made on or near the grounds of the “school” after survivors told researchers where to look, according to the team, and there are still more areas to be scanned. [...]

Continue Reading.

Tagging: @politicsofcanada

[idylls-of-the-divine-romance]

Lord have mercy

I am getting so fucking sick and tired of the "abortion is not mentioned in the bible" argument from non christians. It's sucks and is stupid.

"Trinity" is not in the bible but we know it to be biblical.

"Capitalism" is not in the bible but it is idolatry.

"Abolish the death penalty" and "Abolish slavery" are no where in scripture but guess what. In my opinion there are few things more Christian than the abolition of both in all forms.

Abortion is murder. It's freaking murder and you support genocide. Whether it's genocide against Palestinians or against the unborn I do not fucking care. It's evil. Murder is evil. The death penalty is evil. Euthanasia is evil. Abortion is evil. It is fucking murder so do not fucking start with me about how "The bible doesn't say anything" or "Keep your religion out of politics"

My "religion" is for oppressed. For the voiceless. It is for the immigrant and the widow and the orphan and the poor and the afflicted and the oppressed and all innocent blood spilled upon the earth. My religion is against slavery and the police and the prison system and the inherent violence of the state. My religion is against blind adherence to institutions and organizations and is for the total abolition of the use of death as a weapon. So do NOT fucking tell me that my religion has nothing to say about abortion. Because in fact it has as much to say about abortion (murder) as it does about capitalism (idolatry) or immigrants (Trump supporting Nazi's get off my blog).

Fuck the absolute hell off.

Also like one more thing. Abortion was condemned in the early church. That's not an opinion; it's a fact. The earliest Christian texts condemn it with no mention of any distinction in seriousness between the abortion of a formed fetus and that of an unformed embryo. The Didache, Clement of Alexandria, Tertullian, John Chrysostom, Basil the Great, Augustine of Hippo, etc, all of these explicitly condemn abortion as at least as a grave sexual sin but mostly as murder. Early Christians disagreed on near everything and yet somehow all managed to agree that abortion was murder (even though they couldn't even agree on when the fetus became a person/got a soul). Gosh I fucking wonder why!!!

I am so tired. So. Tired. I'm tired of fascists who believe in mass deportations claiming to be "pro-life" (if you are not Consistent Life Ethic, you are not fucking "pro-life"). I'm tired of progressive christianity being firmly pro-abortion. I'm tired of conservative christians deciding that going to war against gay people and immigrants and supporting Trump is a good idea, which then makes their actually righteous stance against abortion to be frekaing laughable! I'm tired of pro-life people being motherfucking Zionists!?!? HOW ARE YOU A ZIONIST!?!?! HOW DO YOU LITERALLY SUPPORT A GENOCIDE!!!!!!

Actually no. I'm not tired. I am furious. I am furious that the pro-life movement is tired to the Alt-Right who are not actually pro anything but fascism and death. I am furious that they did nothing to stop born out of the womb babies from suffocating to death in hospitals. I am furious that christians had to be so fucking loud about being against gay people. I am furious that White Evangelicals had the audacity to be mad at Lecrae for speaking out against police brutality against black people. I am furious that christians did not just *get* that slavery was completely incompatible with the political ethic of Jesus. I am furious that christians still do not *get* that being anti-immigrant and pro-death and pro-capitalism are STILL completely incompatible with the political ethic of Jesus.

[cartermagazine]

Today In History

John Hope Franklin, American historian and educator was born in Rentiesville, OK, on this date January 2, 1915.

Noted for his scholarly reappraisal of the American Civil War era and the importance of the black struggle in shaping modern American identity, John Hop Franklin helped fashion the legal brief that led to the historic Supreme Court decision outlawing public school segregation, Brown v. Board of Education of Topeka (1954).

Franklin has had a distinguished career as a historian and educator. He has served as professor at Fisk University, Saint Augustine's College (Raleigh, North Carolina), North Carolina Central University (Durham), and Howard University (Washington, D.C.). Subsequently, he chaired the Department of History at Brooklyn College and has been John Matthews Manly Distinguished Service Professor of History at the University of Chicago, James B. Duke Professor of History at Duke University, Fulbright Professor in Australia, and Pitt Professor of American History and Institutions at Cambridge University, England.

His many awards include the Jefferson Medal of the Council for Advancement and Support of Education (1984), the Clarence Holte Literary Prize (1985), the Jefferson Medal of the American Philosophical Society, the National Endowment for Humanities Charles Frankel Award in (1993), and the Presidential Medal of Freedom (1995).

CARTER™ Magazine carter-mag.com #wherehistoryandhiphopmeet #historyandhiphop365 #cartermagazine #carter #johnhopefranklin #blackhistorymonth #blackhistory #history

[scotianostra]

On December 11th 1781 David Brewster the inventor of the kaleidoscope was born.

David Brewster was born in Jedburgh, where his father was rector of the local grammar school. At the age of 12 he went to the University of Edinburgh to study, his family thought, for the clergy. Brewster duly obtained his theology degree and qualified to become a church minister. He never did so, however, becoming increasingly interested in the physical properties of light.

Brewster went on to make a series of discoveries, sometimes in parallel with the likes of Etienne Louis Malus and Augustin Fresnel eminent scientists working in France.

He was particularly engaged in the areas of the polarisation of light, of refraction and reflection, and the absorption of light. In 1812 he was awarded a degree by Marischal College, Aberdeen and in 1815 he was made a Fellow of the Royal Society of London. He also achieved considerable popular recognition through his invention of the kaleidoscope. He also made significant improvements to the stereoscope.

From 1799 Brewster became a regular contributor to the Edinburgh Magazine, and from 1807 he edited the Edinburgh Encyclopedia. He later worked with Robert Jameson on the Edinburgh Philosophical Journal and the Edinburgh Journal of Science.

In 1831 he published a short biography of Sir Isaac Newton, before producing the definitive account of the great man’s life over 20 years later in 1855. Brewster was instrumental in forming the British Association for the Advancement of Science, and it first met in 1831, the year in which he was knighted for his contribution to science.

For all his work in science Brewster was a devout Christian and was an outspoken opponent of Charles Darwin, and his On the Origin of Species. He stated that Darwin's book combined both "interesting facts and idle fancies" which made up a "dangerous and degrading speculation". He accepted adaptive changes, but he strongly opposed Darwin's statement about the primordial form, which he considered an offensive idea to "both the naturalist and the Christian." To be fair there are still people who believe that Adam and Eve were our ancestors and others who believe the Earth is flat!

Later in his life he served as one of the eight foreign associates of the Institute of France; and as Principal of the University of Edinburgh.

David Brewster died in 1868, he has a street named in his honour at The University of Edinburgh’s King Buildings.

[comrade-leonurus]

Интересно, что о нас будут думать потомки, когда через пару столетий будут организованны кафедры и даже институты интернет-археологии?Оставим ли мы им что-то полезное, как нам оставили в своё время Платон, Святой Августин, Микеланджело, Шекспир,Ньютон, Достоевский и другие...

Будут ли называть XXI век временем "интернет-ренессанса"?Или же это время будет именоваться "великим информационным смрадом"? Готов ли ты к тому, товарищ, что скриншоты твоих постов окажутся в учебниках, а конкретно ты станешь лицом целого поколения,как это уже случилось с мальчиком Онфимом, который жил в Великом Новгороде в XIII веке? В 1956 году были найдены его берестяные грамоты и рисунки, которые по сути были его школьными тетрадками.

I wonder what our descendants will think of us when departments and even institutes of Internet archaeology are organized in a couple of centuries. Will we leave them something useful, as Plato, St. Augustine, Michelangelo, Shakespeare, Newton, Dostoevsky and others left us in their time?..

Will the 21st century be called the time of the "Internet renaissance"?Or will this time be called the "great information stench"? Are you ready for the fact, comrade, that screenshots of your posts will end up in textbooks, and specifically you will become the face of an entire generation, as it already happened with the boy Onfim, who lived in Veliky Novgorod in the 13th century? In 1956, his birch bark letters and drawings were found, which in fact were his school notebooks.