and then sniffling

yahoo.com
How the town of Whitefish defeated its neo-Nazi trolls — and became a national model of resistance
WHITEFISH, Mont. — If you were to judge the small, northwestern Montana town of Whitefish solely on the national media frenzy that has descended upon it in recent weeks, like a blizzard that blots out everything else, then you’d probably write it off as a frightening place — an intolerant place, an unwelcoming

As pleasing as it is to see Richard Spencer get hit in the face over and over and over on my dash tonight, he actually suffered a far more humiliating and important defeat earlier this week. 

Remember how he called for an armed march against the tiny Jewish community in his hometown of Whitefish, Montana for last Monday? Yeah. About that:

The rabbi’s voice began to break. For several seconds, the park was silent, save for the sound of Roston sniffling. “You let us know that we are not alone,” she finally said. “You let us know that our community, that our amazing magnificent town of Whitefish, is not only protected by great, divinely formed mountains of earth — this town is protected by a wall of humanity that refuses to be quiet or sit still in the face of bigotry, racism, sexism, homophobia or anti-Semitism.”

TL;DR – the entire town rallied around their neighbors. They got unequivocal, strong, bipartisan support from state officials. Reinforcements arrived from around the country. And the nazis fucking bailed. They never even showed up.

That article needs editing, but it’s worth a scan for the lessons in it. The one I’m holding onto is that we can never give these clowns power they don’t actually have, especially the nameless online assbags. We can’t cede an inch. If we care about each other, and just show up, they will lose every. fucking. time. 

Imagine going to Team Free Will when your parents start to fight because you feel safe with them.

“Really? You feel safe with us?” Sam chuckled.

Confused, you knitted your eyebrows and nodded. “Of course I do. Why wouldn’t I?”

Dean, now almost hysterical, held his stomach as he raised up from leaning on his knees for support. “Have you not noticed our luck with the people we love? They all die bloody! Hell, even Cas has died and came back at least three to five times because of us.”

Castiel nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “It’s true. He is not lying.”

“Guys, I’m serious,” you sniffled as your smile faded.

“Oh. Like- dead serious? Like- you’re sure?” Sam struggled. You only agreed. “Oh…um-”

Dean’s laughter faded into the air before he placed his hand on your shoulder. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt more love,” he chuckled softly.

So I binged the whole of Voltron S2 yesterday and ...

Loved it. Thought it was better than S1, but that’s only because we know the characters so we’ve all bonded like paladins and their lions should.

I thought it odd that we were getting the whole series in one go and not an episode a week, but actually it was better because binge watching ensured my leaky memory was plugged and I didn’t have to try and recall who new people were.

Loved the missing information on Shiro. Loved Keith’s backstory. The character development for most of the characters was great. Allura came into her own in the last two episodes (although there was a part of the series where I thought she was OOC), Coran was very funny and Pidge was super-cool.

I cried at one part that I really didn’t expect to. And I’m still sniffling a little now it’s ended.

However: ENOUGH OF THE FOOD JOKES AND HUNK. Please, it’s boring. It’s tiresome. It’s not that funny or original to make the guy who’s larger than the others obsess about food. Even if it is a reminiscence about home, can’t he fixate on something else? Can’t Lance miss his mom’s home cooking instead?


Speaking of Lance- sigh- getting distracted by pretty girls. We get it. He’s the straightest straight to ever straight. Okay, so it was endearing at the beginning because he is an idiot at times, but c'mon give the guy some more character development. I know there was some - He gained Shiro’s approval (not that Shiro ever disapproved of him, but Lance recognised that approval) and saved their asses, but he was pretty much background after a wonderful episode 2.

Lance did however have the best line of the series in the last ep, putting into words what everyone else was thinking.

Bring on series 3. There’s a lot more story to be told, and I’m waiting!

How the town of Whitefish defeated its neo-Nazi trolls — and became a national model of resistance

The rabbi’s voice began to break. For several seconds, the park was silent, save for the sound of Roston sniffling. ‘You let us know that we are not alone,’ she finally said. ‘You let us know that our community, that our amazing magnificent town of Whitefish, is not only protected by great, divinely formed mountains of earth — this town is protected by a wall of humanity that refuses to be quiet or sit still in the face of bigotry, racism, sexism, homophobia or anti-Semitism.’”

doglover502  asked:

Could you write a fic where Ash has a cold but still shows up at the theater to play? The gang tries to convince her to go home, but she's in denial about being sick, and every time she sneezes she sends a few spikes flying (and mainly landing on Buster).

I try to do my prompts in the order that I get them, but I felt this one was appropriate to write since I’m battling my own cold :/

Fun fact! Porcupines can not shoot quills out of their backs like depicted in Sing and other cartoons. However, like many facts I come across while writing fanfiction, I chose to ignore that.

I hope you enjoy!


Rosita leaned down to Buster as Ash pluged in her amp to begin her warm up. “You really should send her home, she’s not okay to play here!” The pig whispered.

“I know that!”

Ash strummed on her guitar and sniffled softly, oblivious of the conversation happening on the other side of the stage about her. Rosita kept her voice hushed. “Ash is coughing and her eyes are blood shot, Buster! She can hardly speak!”

The porcupine in question began her set, singing in a raspy voice that was barely audible even through the microphone.

He was a boy, she was a girl.
Can I make it anymore for obvious?

Buster Moon drummed his fingers on his clipboard and pursued his lips. “Ash insisted she was fine so-.”

“You believe that?”

“Of course I don’t, Rosita! But if Ash actually believes she’s fine, she’ll just go and wreak havoc else where if I make her leave! At least here, we know she’s safe.”

He was a skater boy, she said see you later boy.
He wasn’t good enough for her, she had a-a-
achoo!”

The sneeze echoed through the theatre and, just like every performance, quills went flying in every direction. Rosita ducked behind the curtain, grabbing Buster almost in time to prevent getting hit, but quite a few spikes got his leg.

He winced at the pain, but another sneeze from Ash sent quills through the air, hitting the heavy curtain they were behind. A coughing fit followed and Rosita frowned at the sound of it.

“She might be safe here, but we’re not,” Buster huffed.

“Sorry!” Ash croaked. Buster and Rosita poked their heads out to see Ash yawning and shaking her head, dropping more loose quills to the ground. On the other side of the stage, Johnny and Mike, perched on the gorilla’s shoulder watched as well. “I’ll…I’ll start again.” Ash strummed off-key on her guitar and opened her mouth.

Rosita jumped out, but before she could speak, Mike was yelling across the stage. “Kid, go home!” Ash turned toward him. “You’re gonna kill everyone, either with those daggers you call hair or with that bubonic plague you’re carrying!”

“Bite me, pip squeak! I’m fi-.” Ash’s retort was cut off by another violent sneeze as if to prove’s Mike’s point. Everyone rushed to their hiding spots to avoid being hit by soaring spikes.

“Big talk for someone who can hardly stand up straight!”

Ash sniffled. “I can do more than just stand up straight. Come over here and-!”

Rosita heard enough. “Stop it!” She snapped in an uncharacteristic tone and all eyes fell to her. She was a mother of 25, Rosita could handle a couple of adults that acted as old as kids were. “Ash, dear,” she began much nicer. “You really don’t look well. I think you might want to sit.”

Buster drew courage from her and stepped out from behind the theatre curtain as well. “Yeah, Ash, why don’t you just watch for today, sit and relax?”

Ash rolled her eyes. “I told you, Moon, I’m f-. Achoo!”

Mike dashed into Johnny’s jacket while the gorilla took a spike to arm; Rosita just dodged one to her hip and Buster took two more into his forehead.

“Ehhh, sorry.” Ash shrugged sheepishly.

Rosita sighed as Buster gave a strained smile with watery eyes. “I have some leftover soup at my house, would you at least eat that if I bring it back?”

Ash looked even more embarrass. “You don’t have to do that for me, Rosita,” she mumbled in between a series of coughs, looking at the ground.

“Here!” Johnny stepped forward hesitantly, plucking the stray spike from his sleeve. When Ash didn’t sneeze, he continued forward. “Take my jacket, stay warm.”

Mike rushed out of a pocket. “Oh, no! I’m not going near Patient Zero!” He jumped from Johnny’s jacket and scampered backstage. “And sanitize the mic when she’s done! The whole stage while you’re at it!”

Ash shook her head to refuse Johnny’s care, but he insisted and draped it around her shoulders. On her, the hem of his jacket touched the ground.

“I can have Mrs. Crawley make you some tea?” Buster offered in a high pitched voice, having plucked one quill from his head.

“Guys, really, I’m fine-.” Everyone flinched. Ash was bewildered. “What?” She rasped.

“Isn’t ’I’m fine’ the launch code for your quill missiles?”

“Shut up, Mike.”

“Very clever comeback, Spikes. Dead on your feet and you’ve still got wicked retorts.”

Rosita interrupted the bickering that certainly reminded her of her piglets. “I’ll run home and grab the soup. Do you need anything else, Ash?”

Mike piped up again, offering, “a full trained medical squad?”

Ash ignored him. “Really, Rosita. It’s no big deal-.” Another sneeze took them all off guard and flinching back, but Johnny’s jacket blocked them from traveling. After sneezing a second time and looking over her shoulder, Ash handed the jacket back to Johnny. In a hoarse voice, she explained, “I don’t want to put holes in this.”

“Oh, you definitely need some throat lozenges, dear. I’ll grab those with the soup.”

“Don’t worry about those,” Mike called. “I’ve got a handful in my car I can grab.” Ash and Buster gave him a strange look. “What? They soothe your throat and give you nice breath, don’t judge a guy for staying healthy and well-kept!”

“I’ll run back to my place and grab some blankets,” offered Johnny as he slid his jacket back on.

“Thank you, Mike and Johnny.” Buster nodded, turning away. “I’ll get Mrs. Crowley on that tea.” Mike followed him off of the stage and out to his car.

“Guys, really-.” 

“I’ll pick up some orange juice too,” Rosita decided. “Maybe some cough syrup.”

“I’ve got plenty of juice at my place!” Johnny chimed, grabbing his skate board. “I’ll grab those, Rosita, don’t worry about that.”

Rosita smiled at him before she turned to Ash. “I’ll be back in 15 minutes, Ash. You sit down with that tea until then. Buster and Mike can keep you company”

“Seriously, I’m not that sick!” Listening to herself, Ash wondered if she really was that ill. She certainly didn’t sound like herself.

“I’ll grab some tissues too,” Johnny called as he left through the back door. “I’ll be back soon, I promise!”

Rosita led Ash to a cushioned chair backstage and pressured her to sit. “Mrs. Crawley will bring you your tea soon and that will soothe your throat, dear. Sit tight until then, okay?”

Ash huffed. “Do I actually have a choice?”

Rosita paused and a hint of a smile graced her face. “Not really. You better get use to us looking out for you like this because it’s only going to get worse from here,” she teased.

As Rosita left she thought she saw Ash smiling and decided the young girl was just delirious.


I feel like Ash would have had an Avril Lavigne phase when she was younger, but not anymore. I included it anyway!

Don’t ask where Meena and Eddie were. I don’t know; Johnny and Mike almost didn’t make it in to this, but I love Seth MacFarlane too much to not love Mike as well.

death-of-the-golden-days  asked:

Hey I was wondering if I could get a scene with Yuri P. comforting his S/O whose Grandfather passed away. Mine recently passed away so I need a bit of a pick me up. Thank you!

[I’m so sorry for your loss. It’s a delayed response, but I do hope you can feel better still]


Yuri held his s/o in his arms, resting his head against their own. He was unsure how to comfort someone in grief, but he made an attempt to soothe the pain his s/o was going through after the passing of their Grandfather. 

“He’s… he’s doing well, I’m sure,” Yuri said, rubbing his hand in small circles against his s/o’s back. “Your Grandfather knows you love him.”

They sniffled, trying to keep their composure. “It’s awful, Yuri. I just miss him so much.”

Yuri closed his eyes and gave his s/o a small peck. “I know,” he whispered softly. “But I’m here for you, okay? So just let it out. Take as long as you need to.”

“Thank you, Yuri.”

3

Zinnia’s sniffling subsided as she stepped out of the closet. Basel grinned and wrapped her in a hug.

“There you go! Much better.”

Zinnia smiled weakly. “Can I still stay in your room until mommy gets home?”

“Of course you can! But why don’t you curl up in bed instead of hiding in the closet? Doesn’t that sound better?”

“Yeah, I guess it does.”

anonymous asked:

39. “Don’t cry.” with Sam Beckett? <3

“Don’t cry.”

“Everything is gonna be okay, Y/N.” Sam mumbled, and despite pulling away, he pulled you into his chest and wrapped his arms around your shoulders. One of his hands cradled the back of your head.

It was difficult to shake your head when your cheek was pressed against Sam’s shoulder. “No, it’s not.” You cried out. “It’s not gonna be okay.”

Sam sighed out, his breath rustling through your hair lightly. “Yes, it will. Because I’m going to be here with you the whole time.” He promised, and Sam’s heart gave an unpleasant tug when he heard you sniffle, and he just hugged you even harder. “Don’t cry. We’ll fix this together.”

Those Who Wander

Escaflowne Week 2017 day 5  pencil sketch of Dilandau haunted by his Dragonslayers (sniffle).  Did this tonight on the fly, Gatti took forever, I had to keep redrawing him until I decided to say screw it and made him look angry rather than sad.  It seemed to work.  

anonymous asked:

*Gasps loudly* Jon! Are you doing okay?? u-um... here! *leaves him a basket containing a soft blanket, a bag of cookies, and a canteen of water* i hope you feel better!

Jon: *he accepts the basket and sniffles nomming the cookies quietly*

uhtsceatha said:
HEADCANON: genos is super grossed out by saitama’s nose picking but never actually calls him on it. he just suffers.



Saitama breaks down one day and cries (my kink) and Genos comforts him so Saitama is a gross sobbing mess and gets tears and snot all over Genos’s shoulder and when he’s done and sniffling he apologizes like “dude I’m sorry for getting snot on you” and Genos is like “it’s fine :’))))”
Baby Puck One Shot

I am sick, so you get Baby Puck drabbles
*********************************************
The fairy child coughed in Stanford’s face again.

“Puck, cover your mouth,” Fiddleford gently scolded the little imp as Ford once more tried to place a thermometer in the child’s mouth.

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” sniffled Puck as he reluctantly allowed Ford to take his temperature. “I can’t help it if I’m dying!”

“Oh, hush, you ain’t dying,” said Fidds, giving the boy a gentle squeeze on his shoulder, careful to avoid hurting his fragile wings. Fidds shot a nervous look in Ford’s direction. Was the boy going to be all right?

Ford smiled reassuringly at his partner.

“From what I can see,” said Ford, eyeing the thermometer carefully after instructing Puck to open his mouth again, “it’s just a regular cold, same as any human child would catch. With a little cold medicine–”

“Nooo…..”

“Some bed rest–”

“Nooooo…….”

“And lots of soup and fluids, he should be back to normal in about a week.”

“Noooooooooo,” groaned Puck mournfully, which was promptly interrupted by a violent sneezing fit.

“He’s right, sweetie,” said Fiddleford, gently picking up Puck from the couch and giving the boy a quick hug, “you’ll need to rest if you want to get better.”

“But I don’t want to rest, I want to play,” sighed Puck, his eyes itchy and watery as he tried to hold back another sneeze. “Dr. Crackpot’s just saying that because he’s boring and hates fun–”

“Yes, my nefarious, evil plan to make you well again, where will my wickedness end,” said Ford wryly. He turned towards the kitchen. “I’ll start boiling a pot of tea, you get him in his pj’s,” he told his partner, who nodded in understanding as he carried Puck to his bedroom.

Puck continued to grumble under his breath as Fidds changed the boy into his pjs, a fluffy, pink one piece with, of all things, soppy-eyed dragon slippers attached to the feet.

“Ya sound like my boy Tate when he was a little fella,” chuckled Fidds, who tousled Puck’s hair affectionately as he spoke. Puck momentarily forgot to be grumpy as Fidds gently stroked his soft, white hair. “He just cried something fierce anytime he came down with something.”

“It stinks!”

“Yeah, it does,” agreed Fidds, “but you’re lucky, I’ve been looking after grumpy, germy kiddos for nearly seven years now, you’re in good hands.”

“I’m not taking any yucky medicine,” stated Puck, indignantly crossing his thin arms across his chest.

“Well, okay,” said Fidds shrewdly, “but only kids who take their medicine get to hear stories when they’re sick. Guess you won’t get to hear about Lucy and Mr. Tumnus tonight after all.”

“…. if I take my medicine, can we read about Dorothy and the witches instead,” said Puck, trying to sound like somebody too clever to fall for his dad’s tricks. He failed spectacularly.

Fidds, smiling warmly, said to the boy, “it’s a deal.”

yeahinmyhead  asked:

Give me cute dad kisses :| (if you want that is)

( ALL THE DAD KISSES )

It’s not until Cloud is asleep that Veld relaxes a little, worried that the little guy would be too homesick to sleep. But when he hears the soft breathing, and sees the blanket rising and falling, he smiles and gets up, moving over to watch him sleep a moment. His hand carefully smooths the fluffy blonde hair back, soothing away a tiny frown on the sleeping face, before he bent and pressed a kiss to his temple.

Carpet burns were always nasty, but especially so on the carpet the Turk floor had, as it was extra rough and extra tough to withstand anything the Turks could throw at it (or on it ). That being said, carpet burns were especially bad, and Veld looked up at the soft sniffling sound as Cloud wandered into his office,  one fist rubbing his eyes and the other holding his knee. After finding out what the problem was, Veld rolled his pant leg up and pressed a kiss to the injured knee, biting back a laugh when Cloud asked why. Didn’t he know that kisses made everything better?

The third time it’s raining as they walk to work, Cloud stumbling in his little black rubber rain boots, not yet awake and not appreciative of Veld’s early hours. When he falls into a deep, water filled pothole, Veld scoops him up and carries him the rest of the way, but not after pressing a kiss to his hair along with murmured reassurances and promises of hot chocolate.

The fourth time is when Cloud finished his first school lesson, and with quiet concern, placed the paper on Veld’s desk to be graded, waiting in nervous apprehension while Veld looked it over. Once he was done, Veld pushed his chair back a little and motioned for Cloud to come over, scooping him up into a fierce hug and a rough, bristly kiss to the cheek.

+ 1 time Cloud kissed Veld

A year had passed when Veld finished the last bedtime story of the night, and bent to tuck Cloud tighter into his bed. He hadn’t expected how much his life would change having the boy around, but it had, and for the better. He blinked in surprise when Cloud suddenly pulled him down a little more and pressed his lips to Veld’s scarred cheek.

“Goodnight papa.” he murmured.

Veld muffled his tears in the bathroom, face pressed to a towel. Life was so much better.

8

The Bill was the best cop show on TV, running from 1984 to 2010 when it was canceled following ITV’s failed attempt to make it more hip and cutting edge. It’s so often the case. Anyway:

Sgt Craig Gilmore (Hywel Simons) became the first openly gay officer at Sun Hill when he transferred from the Greater Manchester Police in 2001. By mid-2002 he had earned the grudging respect of the station - bar the homophobic Sgt Matt Boyden - but was still considered standoffish and arrogant. PC Luke Ashton’s (Scott Neal) return to the Met in July 2002 did nothing to aid the situation. Gilmore developed a crush so big it could be seen from space, and Luke blew alternately hot and cold until it culminated in all kinds of soap opera style drama…

(Basically, Luke broke my smol baby’s heart. *sniffle*)

This scene first aired on 22/08/02, literally a minute or so before the watershed (9pm, i.e. the time before which all TV programming in the UK should be suitable for children). It generated 170 complaints for being too extreme for pre-watershed viewing, particularly as both men were in uniform! The ITC (Independent Television Commission) declined to uphold them, pointing out that a similar heterosexual kiss would have gone by uncommented upon.

…I’d like to say that was the sort of thing you only got 15 years ago, but last July ITV received another 170 complaints over a gay kiss in Coronation Street, leading to the exact same response from Ofcom, the ITC’s successor. 

The more things change, eh?

China Cup: A Summary
  • Phichit: I fucking love this movie IT'S MY MOVIE
  • Guang-Hong: What a beautiful, delicate flower am I
  • Georgi: SHE LEFT ME NOW I PUT A CURSE ON HER
  • Leo: I want everyone to be happy and I'm actual sunshine
  • Christophe: We're all having sex on this ice all of us
  • Yuuri: Victor is mine bitches lemme drink those tears u cry