herding people

Before I start this little spiel, I need you all to know: I’m not hating on people who don’t vaccinate their kids, and while I know for a fact BASED ON facts that vaccines don’t cause autism or other “defects”, I’m all for continuing research to make them even better and safer.

But you know what really, really scares me about the anti-vax movement? As a future Public Health Professional, the thing that scares me most about this is the fact that our cultural mindset has become so CHILL about vaccine-preventable/”childhood” diseases that there is even room for such a movement. Let me explain.

Do y’all know what an R0 is? The R-naught, as it is called, is the basic reproduction rate of a disease. It tells you how many new infections can come from one existing infection. For example, an R-naught of 3 (R3) means that, on average, one sick person will infect three other people. Every disease has an R-naught, some greater and some lesser.

Do you remember when everyone was freaking out about Ebola? Everyone was terrified of catching it, because it’s SOOOOO contagious and deadly, right? Ebola has an R-naught of 2. That’s it. R2. One person with Ebola, on average, will get 2 more people sick. And we were freaking out about that.

Well guess what? Measles is the most contagious disease known to mankind, and it has an R-naught of 18. 18. One person with measles will give it to 18 new people, and those people will give it to 18 new people EACH, and so on. That’s what happened with the Disneyland outbreak; it’s so ridiculously contagious that just ONE sick child was enough to start an epidemic.

And yet very few people are as scared of measles as they are of Ebola. Why is that? One reason could be the nature of the disease, sure; Ebola is terrifying in its progression and symptoms. But I would suggest that a major reason is that measles has been so well-contained by vaccination that people no longer fear it. It’s not a part of every-day life anymore; this disease is no big deal because nobody gets it, because so many people are vaccinated against it. Let’s put this another way.

What are the diseases that scare everyone the most: Ebola, HIV/AIDS, and SARS are pretty high on the list of terror diseases. But let’s look at the R0s, shall we: Ebola-R2. HIV/AIDS-R5. SARS-R5. 

Now let’s look at diseases that people are voluntarily rejecting vaccinations against: Measles, Pertussis, and Diphtheria are the major ones. Their R0s? Measles-R18. Pertussis-R17. Diptheria-R7.

Everyone focuses on the former set of diseases– rightly so, I suppose– because they’re more dangerous at the present time. What makes them more dangerous? Not their R0; it’s the fact that there is no viable treatment, and NO VACCINE. Seriously, that’s why the medical community is worried about them. There’s no way to treat or PREVENT their spread biologically. Well guess what? There’s no viable treatment for Measles or Pertussis, and only limited treatment options for Diphtheria. That’s why the medical community doesn’t focus on them as much, because we can prevent them at the biological level, safely and effectively.

But now that the Anti-Vax movement has taken hold so firmly, the medical community is now being forced to once more worry about diseases it had almost eradicated. And not only that, it’s endangering herd immunity for the people who can’t receive their own vaccines due to compromised immune systems. I’m allergic to eggs, so I can’t receive the flu shot, but I’m also asthmatic so I can’t get the inhaled vaccine. I rely entirely on the people I associate with to keep me safe from the flu by getting their yearly shot. This made public school a living nightmare, because almost NOBODY got their shot. They caught it, and while it didn’t affect them TOO terribly because they were generally healthy, when I caught it, it was very dangerous because of my asthma. And then there’s that time when I caught the flu, and then right after because of my weakened immune system, I caught Whooping Cough from someone who hadn’t been vaccinated. I HAD been vaccinated, but my body was so fatigued from the flu that it couldn’t keep up with immune demands. And so I caught it.

Have you ever had Pertussis (whooping cough)? It’s hard enough on someone with full lung capacity; it can break ribs, it makes you cough so hard. You cough until there is literally no air in your lungs, and you have to inhale so forcefully it makes the “whooping” sound that gives it the name. It’s painful beyond belief, and it can last for weeks. Some people will survive it. But add that to asthma, or to a young child, or to an elderly person, and you are looking at either permanent damage or death, no exceptions. When I had it, I was about 6 years old, and asthmatic; I spent 81 hours awake because the coughing was so violent I physically couldn’t sleep. I tore abdominal muscles. I vomited during coughing fits and aspirated the vomit. I was actively dying. The doctors could barely suppress the cough enough for me to breathe at all. My inhaler wasn’t helping, none of the cough syrups or breathing treatments were helping; I was getting pneumonia on top of the virus. It was Hell. I was LUCKY that I didn’t die.

Who would wish that on their child? Nobody, I hope. And if you KNEW you could keep your child from ever experiencing that, wouldn’t you do whatever it took to ensure their safety?

Or would you look at the safeguard and say, “Nah. I’ll take my chances with my child’s life.”?

That is what the anti-vax movement is doing. Perhaps not purposefully, but that’s the end result. These aren’t just names on syringes designed to make a child cry; the diseases are real, and real threats to health and life, and the vaccines are how you prevent them. Yet we are so far removed from the impact and effects of these diseases BECAUSE of the peace brought to us BY vaccines that people now feel no qualm about refusing vaccines.

That’s what scares me about the anti-vax movement; people have become so complacent that they no longer worry about these very real, very deadly diseases. They’d rather risk their child’s life than get a shot? The side effects of vaccines are unproven (nonexistent), but the efficacy of vaccines are very much proven.

When the pertussis vaccine first came out, people jumped on it right away. They were so grateful to have it, and for a while everything was smooth sailing, and whooping cough was on the decline. Then, in the 70s, some groups started claiming the pertussis vaccine was causing brain injury in young children. Less than 50 in 15 million cases were reported, but it was enough to scare people away from the vaccine. And children began dying again. It was later discovered that it was NOT the vaccine, but the result of infantile epilepsy, that caused the brain damage. People began once more vaccinating their children, but not before hundreds if not thousands had died.

And that’s what’s happening now. A falsified claim scared just enough people that time-tested, lab-tested, fully-proven, totally safe vaccines are being rejected, and we’re already starting to pay with lives. And I’m scared it’s going to get worse. People don’t really grasp the full import of these diseases and the necessity of the vaccines until they have experienced the disease. I’m scared that it’s going to come down to new epidemics before people will realize the mistake of not vaccinating.

Right now we’re still in the semi-safe zone. Enough of the population is immunized that we could probably keep most pandemics of these diseases at bay. But if this movement keeps gaining momentum, there might come a day when measles and pertussis could once again destroy thousands of people yearly. Imagine if some terrorist group weaponized Ebola and used it against this country; so many people would die, because we have no vaccine for it, no way to prevent it. That is what could happen with diseases like mumps, rubella, measles, pertussis, Diphtheria, and polio. Except it wouldn’t be terrorists using a disease as a weapon; it would be some kid in your child’s class, or your neighbor across the street, or the guy who delivers the mail to your office. That’s how life used to be, and if someone from the pre-vaccine era could see us now, they’d weep for joy at the idea that we can prevent these horrific diseases; and then they’d weep in sorrow at the idea that people are voluntarily turning down that safeguard.

It’s true, vaccines aren’t always 100% effective; I was immunized, but still got Whooping Cough (lowered immune function, if you recall). But you know who didn’t get it? My baby sister. My big sister. My cousins. My mother and father. My classmates, the other kids at my doctor’s office. The nurses at the hospital. The pharmacy workers. Their children. The kids my mom taught at school. All those people were safe because of vaccines. And you know what else? When I was in India, I was exposed to polio. Didn’t get it. Know why? I was vaccinated. I was exposed to chicken pox in 5th grade. One unvaccinated kid got it, and the other 4 kids in our class who weren’t vaccinated got it. But you know who didn’t? The rest of us who WERE vaccinated.


Vaccination may not be perfect, and the only way we will improve them is by continuing research. But the fact remains that as they are now, vaccines cause no lasting side effects (injection site pain goes away), and are extremely effective at preventing dangerous, painful, debilitating, often deadly diseases. Let’s keep researching, yes, but in the mean time, PLEASE vaccinate. It’s not worth your life, or your child’s, or anyone else’s. Vaccines save lives, not destroy them.

You know, reading @whitefire321′s post gave me another opportunity to draw background Camilla and here she is

Preference; I’d Understand

Alec Volturi and Paul Lahote preference requested by anon! “Yoo hows my favorite blog?? I’m doin’ alright. Can i get a alec or paul imagine where they’re scared about reader leaving him. Due to alec being a vampire that likes human blood. Or if you do pauls about him being a hothead. Hopefully it makes sense” Hope you like it!

ALEC VOLTURI

In truth, you’d never been wholly comfortable with the meal-plan served in the Italian villa, given your awkward position as would-be appetizer. Despite your position in this so strange, vampiric court, despite your knowledge of the binding law protecting you from intentional harm, your stomach continued to twist and knot in fear. This discomfort, this terror stemmed not from your relations within the Volturi; no, even Aro had been kind, welcoming even, whispering about how overjoyed he was that his darling Alec had found such a promising mate. It was clear that he had a handful of particularly advantageous plans when the sunrise of your immortality broke the horizon, and thus took an affectionate liking to you. The subject of your mortality was a bit of a taboo, especially considering the diet of choice your new companions favoured, but your never felt discriminated for the beating of your heart.

It was never about your pulse, your necessary breath, the blood flowing through your veins, protected only by a thin layer of vulnerable flesh. Politically, you were fine. You were practically one of the guards, your transformation date set for sometime in the summer. It was never about you. It was about the thirty tourists you saw enter the throne room every week, it was their screaming that haunted your dreams, their horror that plunged the knife into your abdomen, churning your insides until you were reduced to nothing. It was your mate’s participation, his willing participation, that struck fear into your still-beating heart. If you had wandered into the villa, expecting a tour of Italian architecture, a history lesson on pillars or portraits, would he have slaughtered you as he slaughtered the others? Would he have spared you a second thought?

You were doubtful.

You stood with your back facing the entrance to your bedchamber, your eyes dissecting the intricate carvings laid into the marble of the walls. Though you had been distanced from the heart of the Volturi’s society, you could hear the echos reverberating down the hall nonetheless. Alec had noticed your discomfort and suggested a change of scenery, though you understood that even his residence in Verona would carry the weight of Volterra’s infractions. You were chewing the edge of your fingernail (a nervous habit you hoped would be kicked, finally, when you were torn from your human life) when your ears picked up on the subtlest wisp of movement, announcing the presence of your silent lover. Soon after, his hands were cooling your elbows, folding over your crossed arms, his honeyed breath polluting the air you inhaled. His lips pressed to your neck, your mind jumping from affection to unease as you noted the placement of his kiss. His voice, so soft, so sweet for so experienced a killer, sang against your ear, his hair brushing against your cheek.

“Darling, you’re troubled,” he observed, his icy fingers ghosting over your hands, lacing his fingers through yours, a tender gesture you were not expecting to be accompanied by the surprising warmth his frozen fingers carried. He’d fed recently, more recently than you cared to dwell on. A stranger’s blood warmed his frigid tissues. You flinched away from his touch, untangling yourself from his fingers, avoiding contact with his violent eyes, his angel’s lips parted in wounded confusion. “Y/n, what’s wrong? Is something the matter?” He extended his hand, and you once more slunk away from his touch. He ducked his head, slipping his hands into the pockets of his slacks, exhaling lowly. When he spoke, his voice had changed drastically, harbouring an injury you had yet to notice on his physical form. “Aro warned me this would happen.” You did not speak on the matter, but recalled easily the moment you had departed from Volterra, your hand sliding from Aro’s papery skin, his eyes reading your most recent thoughts, likely painting vivid imagery to accompany your internalized terror. Of course he would mention this to Alec. Your inability to cope directly affected him. “This is about the blood.” His voice did not lilt in inquiry; there was no question, no confusion muddying his understanding. You lifted your face to address him, his eyes a blazing crimson, burning from within with the glow of his most recent meal. Your words clung to the insides of your throat, scratching their way downward, refusing to surface. Alec’s jaw clenched, his gaze lowering to the floor’s mosaic, his brow furrowing the silken plane of his forehead. It was almost inhumane to witness, to cause, distress in so beautiful a creature.

“If I could avoid… the way that I feed, I would do it for you,” he continued, his voice softer, quieter than before, his words dripping with sorrow like an open wound, his tone ringing with a melancholic tenor. “Once you’ve turned, I believe, I hope, that you will understand the difficulty we face. This is not a choice, the way that we feed. Our thirst is not a decision; it’s a compulsion. I have very little control of how I ensure your safety… If I were to refrain, I’m afraid I would be unable to keep myself from causing you harm.” Your breathing grew shallow as he explained to you the honest truths behind his so frequent feasting, his plump lips downturned at the corners, his eyes projecting a most uncommon weakness in one of the most powerful man you had the pleasure of knowing. He pursed his lips before exhaling a broken sigh, his chest heaving unnaturally. “If this is not something that you can live with… I’d understand.” His voice, usually so determined, so confident, now drifted into silence. The only sound available to your feeble ears was your steady pattern of breathing. You turned your face away, unable to hold his gaze any longer, your heart breaking for the angel you’d reduced to ash and cinder before you. After a moment, Alec broke his uncharacteristic silence, his voice illustrating a heart, an organ you knew no longer beat within the chiseled stone of his chest, breaking. If he was capable of producing tears, you had no doubt they would have fallen freely from his scarlet eyes, painting glimmering trails against the alabaster of his complexion. “Will you leave me?” You turned, shocked by his inquiry. How was he able to fathom a universe where you did not see yourself at his side? Had your affections fallen flat? Were you unable to illustrate to him the depth of your love? You crossed to him, your fingers angling his chin upward, forcing him to meet your eye, his irises blooming dangerously beneath a broken brow.

“I could not leave you if remaining by your side ensured the end of my life. To be parted from you would cause me unbearable pain. You are not what I despise, and your thirst… I can’t blame you for that. It’s the executions, Alec, that bother me. You’re herding people to their deaths by the hundreds every year. I can’t help but be bothered by the deaths. I’m only human, for now. If there is another way that you can live, tell me, and we can pursue that path. Together.” His eyes softened, his breath flowing over your face. Though his brow remained furrowed, his lips formed a cautious grin. He glanced at the position of the sun through your veiled window, his eyes returning to your face. He lifted his palm to cradle your cheeks, his face alight with the force of the words he spoke next.

“There is a coven in America, the Cullens. If we leave now, we could reach their home by tomorrow. I never thought I would say this…” His thumbs stroked over your cheekbones, the weight of his decision weighing heavily on his shoulders. “I believe they may be able to help us.”

PAUL LAHOTE

You had been warned of this very scenario from the moment Paul’s realities had been revealed to you, the moment you became involved in the fiery universe that he was so ingrained in. You’d seen the evidence of a destructive temper on Emily’s face, scarring her for life, a warning sign to the other members of Sam’s pack: don’t get too close. You hadn’t had any issues as far as trust went; Paul was relatively calm when you were around, incredibly cautious to the point of over-protectiveness, and as kind and loving as the day you’d met him. He was well-prepared to prevent injuries similar to Emily’s, or worse, and handled his rage better than he had before you stumbled into him. According to his pack, he’d been a bit of a loose canon before imprinting, but your presence acted as a sedative to his usual rowdy, unpredictable nature. You’d been assured that his mannerisms, specifically his impulse to phase, had been quieted after he imprinted, but his actions spoke to combat the promises his brothers made.

Their observations had not been entirely false; Paul was, without doubt, a changed man, but he carried with him a fire that even you could not put out. While he wasn’t explosive, his fuse was relatively short. You hadn’t had the chance to argue, given the amount of time you’d known him, but you’d be witness to his quick temper. You’d never felt threatened in any way other than the typical back-away-if-he-starts-shaking, but that applied to any of the wolves. They all had off-days, but Paul was never someone to be feared, never someone to be wary of. He treated you with the utmost respect and care, but even he couldn’t put a stopper on the floodgates when you’d been approached by a group of men on First Beach. Their salutations had been more insult than greeting, their words slipping like an oil slick from between their unwashed teeth, their faces gleaming with a drunken sweat you could smell radiating from their bodies as you passed them by. Paul, of course, was not about to stand for this ill-treatment. You’d felt the vibrations rolling from his body through the hand that held his, heard his laboured breathing by your ear. You had enough time to extract your hand from his and press a palm to his chest before turning to the trio of vulgar men, warning them to leave before someone (here meaning them, but you couldn’t help but wonder if you also spoke in your own defense) was hurt. One look at Paul was enough to seal your threat in concrete. There was no question about his anger, and his bare torso was promise enough that any retribution would be undeniably painful. They fled, joining a throng of townspeople vacating the beach. Your eyes locked on his, his lips curling over his teeth. You’d attempted to whisper a few calming words before realizing how far gone he truly was. You backed away from his trembling form, every visible muscle tensing on his body as he too backed away from you.

“Y/n,” he snarled, his eyes flitting around as his convulsions intensified, watching the last of the beach’s crowd fade into the night. His unspoken plea was clear: run. You turned your back on him and joined the masses abandoning the darkness of the waters, their voices nearly masking the tear of clothing as Paul exploded from his skin. You turned in time to watch his tail disappear into the tree line. You headed for Emily’s place, hoping to find Sam or Jared holed-up in her kitchen. One of them must be willing to talk Paul down from his heated precipice. You knew they’d all done it before. Your trek was short-lived, and the harmonies reaching from Emily’s open windows carried promises of aid in the form of two, possibly three werewolves. You helped yourself in, your eyes finding Sam’s in the crowd surrounding Emily’s table. His face, lightened by Emily’s company, went dark when he met your gaze. It seemed he already knew. You cleared your throat, running a hand through your hair, watching as Jared, Quil, and Emily focused their attention on you.

“Anyone willing to track my boyfriend for me?” Jared cursed aloud, damning Paul to Hell as he dropped his half-eaten muffin onto his plate, clearly irritated with his friend’s lack of control. Quil offered an apologetic grimace, clapping you on the shoulder as he made his way to the door with Jared nipping at his heels. Sam said nothing outside of asking for Paul’s last-known location, departing with a a final glance at Emily, his fists balled around a pair of jean shorts. Emily’s hands fluttered about her table, sweeping crumbs from the surface, her eyes on your face. She nodded you over, inviting you to sit as she prepared her dinner, promising you that Paul’s episodes never lasted more than half an hour, and that was before you came along. She was almost certain he’d be back sooner. You chatted with her for the next fifteen minutes, your mind preoccupied, replaying the fading image of Paul ducking into the woods on the blank expanse of your eyelids. It wasn’t until Emily offered you a cup of tea that you noticed your hands were trembling. “Maybe I’m a wolf too,” you whispered, your voice failing your attempt at humour, Emily’s arms wrapping around your back as your body shuddered. She, of all people, knew the fear that now pooled in your stomach. Another ten minutes passed before you heard their approach, the sound of footsteps crunching against soil paired with Sam’s low, angry whispers. The three members of Paul’s rescue party had returned, and all three entered without a word, sitting at the table in absolute silence. Emily’s eyes focused on the doorway before finding yours, shooting you a sisterly glance you understood to be cautionary.

“Y/n,” your name was soft on his lips, a gentle tone meant to exhibit his level of calmness. You turned in your seat, abandoning your tea, your eyes falling on his form, propped-up against the open doorway. He gestured for you to join him outside, his hand running through his shorn hair. They did not tremble. You excused yourself and followed him onto Emily’s lawn, watching his shoulders heave with as he sighed, his back gleaming beneath the light of the moon. His hands were swinging at his sides, his muscles tensing and releasing as he paced. When he stopped, you were a good distance away from the house, out of earshot, you assumed, and away from any scrutiny. He turned, slowly, his every movement calculated, the effort behind his actions obvious. He was going out of his way to eliminate any perception you could have of him being a threat to your safety. He kept his distance, addressing you in a whisper from a handful of feet away, his bare feet digging into the earth as he spoke. “Y/n, I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. That was… I put you at risk, and I’m so, so sorry.” His eyes lifted to the stars, his head shaking with frustration. “And, you know, I can’t even promise that it won’t happen again. I’m not in control, not like that. This can happen again, and that…” his voice dropped off, his sentence hanging open, fluttering in the breeze. When his eyes returned to yours, his face was broken, his lips pursed to keep them from quivering. “I mean, I’d understand if it’s too much. As much as it kills me, I can understand if you need to go.” He raised his hands, surrendering. “I want you safe, that’s all. I can’t promise you’ll be safe around me. I can’t.” You shook your head, closing the distance between you, continuing even after he mirrored your first few steps, eager to keep you out of harm’s way.

“Paul, if anything, you went out of your way to keep me safe tonight. You warned me that you were losing control, and you backed up, and you gave me time to step back.” He opened his mouth to speak, but you refused to let berate himself further. “You are not a threat to me, and I’m not going anywhere.” He exhaled deeply, relieved, and closed his arms around your back, pulling you to the warmth of his chest.

2

The Shetland Sheepdog is a miniature Collie and, up to 1914 in England, was known as the “Shetland Collie”. The breed comes from the small Shetland Islands where most of the livestock is diminutive, including the Shetland Pony and small Shetland Sheep, the latter bred small because of scarce fodder and lack of space. It is entirely logical that to herd small sheep on a small island a small sheepdog should be used; thus the Shetland Sheepdog.

— Ernest H. Hart, Encyclopedia of Dog Breeds (1968)

Breed standard from Dog Standards Illustrated (1975). For @secernentea.

Why cisphobia is very much real

As somebody who is in the LGBT+ community, I can see that cisphobia has become a thing. You bash on people who are cisgendered, calling them privileged and scum and creating a herd mentality against these people. This means that younger and more vulnerable people are getting their self esteem knocked down because they feel they’re not different, not good enough or unique and think they’re over privileged because of the amount of cyber bullying that goes on towards cis people. Except it is proclaimed without you knowing people’s circumstances. They could be battling cancer, they could be homeless, they could be young carers, they could be going through abuse. Their struggles could be a hell of a lot worse than your struggles but a chunk of the LGBT+ community will fail to acknowledge this because they feel they are victims of oppression that is actually getting better nowadays. I’m somebody trying to spread love to EVERYONE, and if you want respect and support off people you have to stop bullying them and calling them over privileged scumbags.

Don’t you DARE call anybody an over privileged scumbag. Because every single person on this planet, no matter of age, gender, orientation, colour etc experience downsides and struggles. Nobody is seen as more privledged than others. It is the same with fat acceptance people. Okay cool you’re happy. That’s great for some but that does not then make it okay to start shaming people for being skinny. Why is it okay to beg for acceptance for your weight and then think it’s acceptable to shame another person for theirs? Isn’t that what you guys are trying to fight against completely?

Feminism has deteriorated to a bunch of people who claim they’re feminists that get upset if a man so much as looks in their general direction. Feminism should be focused on the pay gap, how in Eastern countries women cant get educations and how gay people are still put to death in certain areas. Not harassing people in the street because of perhaps what their political views are or maybe they got your pronouns wrong. Some people truely believe all men are rapists too (forgetting that women can be rapists). No, some people are evil but not all 7 billion people. The fact we now live in a society where people hate men, cisgendered and white people absolutely disgusts me. We are trying to fight for a better, more equal world but bashing on people because they are white and cisgendered (usually men) is NOT the way to go. Because younger and vulnerable people are beginning to have lower self esteem because you guys are cyber bullying them whether or not you want to admit it.

As an active member of the LGBT+ community, and likewise most of our brothers and sisters in this community who treats everyone fairly, we want equality, diversity and for everyone to stand as equals. We want to extinguish labels altogether. We don’t want to share a world with people who cyber bully and put people down and claim they’re in the LGBT+ community. Because you’re not. You have forgotten the very meaning of the LGBT+ community if you think it’s okay to put down people.

Hate sexist people. Hate transphobic and homophobic people. Hate racist people.

And no, I am not cisgendered before you call me out ‘for not knowing struggles’.

okay so this was like 3 years ago in 7th grade, we were outside for recess one day and my friends and i were just hanging by the tennis court like usual, when all of a sudden a herd of people stampede to the middle of the blacktop. everyone else follows them, including my group. then we hear a lot of shouting and “OOOHHHHH"s, and you’d think this was a fight, right? wrong. two boys in my grade literally caused all of this commotion playing a game of fucking rock paper scissors. anyway, a monitor broke through the crowd of children and broke up the two boys and the principal came out and everything it was wild

Corner Shop Part 6 (Trouble)

Summary: Peter Parker visited the popular corner shop in Queens everday. Little did he know the owner had a cute daughter.

Word Count: 1466

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Warnings: angst, drama

A/N: This is the halfway point in this story… 6 more chapters left I think 

First Part ~ Previous Part ~ Next Part

Originally posted by space1boy

Peter never visited the store during the weekends, but you hardly worked on the weekends anyway. The weekend was your time to get homework done and use the remaining time to do leisure activities alone or with friends.

He hadn’t texted you since yesterday, and you were feeling agitated. It was hard to see past the fact that he just stood you up, rather than believing that something else happened.

Today you were at work, since your dad was still sick. Your dad insisted that he felt fine, but his nose was still runny and he coughed after every sentence. Although colds aren’t detrimental, he could not work with a cold, especially in the food industry. He could his sickness onto others.

“Are you okay y/n? You seem down today,” your mother told you as you both closed down the store for the night.

“Yeah, I’m fine,”

“Are you getting along with Peter?”

“Yes,” you said quickly.  If you had said anything else, it would have been defensive. My life doesn’t revolve around Peter. Just because I’m grumpy doesn’t mean it’s because of him.

But those thoughts would imply that Peter had nothing to do with your mood, which would be false. You were in a bad mood because of him. While you didn’t take out your frustrations on your parents, you just became less animated than your usual self. It was as if you were tired. When you got home and got ready for a shower, you got a text from him. The message was checked instantly.

Keep reading

Spin - Jason Todd x Reader

After an untimely but rather expected case of writer’s block, I have now returned. This is requedted by a lovely anon. I had so much fun with this one guys! Thank you so much for pushing me to do what I think I do best :3

WARNINGS: NO SMUT BUT LOTS OF FLUFF!!!
WORDS: 1674

“Dick.” He grunted into the earpiece, sounding more like he was crying an insult more than saying an actual name, “Could you be more specific?”

“The guy probably has a hoodie on, or something that covers his face. And he looks a lot older than everyone in that room.”

“That makes the two of us,” Jason rolled his eyes. It was stupid to think he could still pull of as a high school student, let alone blend in with a bunch of toddlers running around with alcohol glued to their hands. “Tell me again why I’m doing this and not Tim?”

“He’s underage.”

“Everyone in the whole fucking block hasn’t grown into their big boy pants!”

“Jason, they’re seniors. They’re what, two? Three years younger than you?

“Four. I’m good if this was in college, but high school? No, I’m going back. Tim will take this.”

A girl screaming with her shirt gone from her body bumped into Jason and spilled her drink. She then proceeded to scream something along the lines of ‘Fuck you!’ Or was it ‘I want to fuck you!’?

“No he won’t. Besides he’s off to do something else with Bruce. You’ll do fine.”

The voices around him got even louder. Things of much value were being thrown around like a football and the floor was soaking wet with spilled drinks. There were so many people around he wasn’t surprised nobody came up to him yet and asked which school he went to.

“Jason,” he heard his earpiece. “This isn’t just any drug dealer selling to kids. He’s selling a new type of drug, one these kids don’t even know. And from the sample we took from his last victim, it’s so dangerous that it could instantly kill them after an hour of being higher than the clouds.”

“And from the looks of it, I might need one right now.”

Jason heard a loud grunt, to which formed a grin on his face, “Look just, find the guy, knock him out, and you can get the hell out of there.”

“Fine. But if they ask what a chaperone is doing here, I’m saying my name is Dick Grayson and that I got held back twice in senior year.”

“Asshole.”

He heard a loud scream, coming from the girl who bumped into him a while ago, then came a herd of even more people looking for some fun. He had to hurry, he thought, before this guy kills a house of sexually frustrated teenagers.

He scrambled through the drunk crowd, farther into the least chaotic part of the house where kids were making out and in the verge of getting laid for what he assumed would be the first time for some of them.

God, he needed to get out.

Then he saw him, a dark man hiding under a blue hoodie in the corner of the backyard. Jason could see two guys, presumably football athletes walk up to him to get some of his home made goodness. As the guys walked away from the dealer, he went up to them.

“Hey, your girl just went into one of the bedrooms with a guy named Dick. You should check that out.”

“What?!” he screamed, almost deafening the undercover Red Hood. “Where are they!?”

“Upstairs,” he smiled. Jason then patted his back before the guy ran back into the house.

He smirked, holding the small plastic packet in his hand. “Dick, wait for me outside.” He said into the earpiece. He stuffed it into his pocket and slowly walked towards the dealer.

“How much do you want?”

“About a gallon of your blood and your ass back in GCPD.”

Suddenly, Jason grabbed both his arms and swiftly twisted them all the way to his back. The man, struggled, but was far too weak against Jason’s strength.

“Fuck you.”

“You’re not really my type, but I’m flattered.”

Almost flawlessly, save for a few attempts of escaping, he managed to drag him all the way to the front of the house where Dick’s car was parked in the other sidewalk.

He knocked on the driver’s seat window after he stuffed him in the backseat. The window rolled down, revealing Dick with a sly grin on his face. “Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?

Jason rolled his eyes, “Charming.” He turned his head in the direction of the crowd not far from him.

“If you’re gonna ride with me back home we have to stop by GCPD to drop him off. Or we could- Jay, what are you staring at?”

He shook his head and diverted his attention back from staring at one of the girls in the crowd. They were playing spin the bottle, and she was just sitting there, smiling.

“Nah. You can go. I’ll go home on my own.”

“Are you sure? It’s 5 miles back to your apartment and you don’t have your bike.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Before Dick could say anything, Jason had gone back into the house. He shrugged and turned the engine on.

“You’d stay too if you found a girl like that.” Said the dealer restrained at the back.

“Shut up.”

 

He had no idea how the fuck he let himself be pulled by a bunch of teenagers into a game of spin the bottle with 6 other people. Three of which are girls, and one of them, he now remembered, was the reason why he deliberately let Dick drive off and leave him in this infernal hell hole five miles away from home.

You were much prettier up close. Your cheeks were glowing red, and you haven’t drunk that much yet, and your lips were so delicate he just wanted to press them against his own.

He wasn’t leaving without at least knowing your name.

He failed to notice she had already spun the bottle until-

Until it landed on him.

And fuck, he’s never been so nervous in his life. He’s taken out bad guys, not the kind of bad guys in movies. He’s put himself in arm’s length from death numerous times in his life. He almost fell off a building. He got shot in the stomach. He fucking died and came back to life for Christ’s sake. So why is he fucking sweating out of his skin when a young girl like you was just about to kiss for you’re a split second?

Of course, it could be because a young girl like you was about to kiss him.

He should’ve gotten drunk. Even smelling the fumes in this house was enough to make his muscles less tense.

“Here goes nothing,” he heard you say. You scooted over beside him. “Ready?”

“Sure,” he muttered, not knowing the amount of sweat pooling around his face. This is gonna be awkward.

Your lips pressed into his, gently at first that it wouldn’t be so significant, but then, you failed to notice you took more time than what was required in a harmless game of spin the bottle. You took the time to inhale his manly, musky scent that sent your heart pounding. His lips were soft, yet firm at the same time, and the way he lightly moved around in rhythm with you just felt so perfect, not awkward at all.

He took the time to take you in as well. He noticed a faint scent from what he could make out as perfume coming off you, which made it so much better, since he hated strong cologne. He also couldn’t help but run a sneaky hand through your hair he’d been eyeing since he first saw you. And your lips, they were so soft and delicate, like you could break apart if he kisses you too hard.

“Ehem,” you heard a drunk girl call out, “We’re waiting for our turn too ya know.”

You broke apart, both with cheeks flushed red and your lips feeling numb.

“You’re obviously not from here,” you broke the silence that followed after. “Are you in college?”

“Sure,” he mumbled, “You can say that.”

“What are you doing in a high school party?”

“Uhhh my mom asked my brother to tag me along?”

You were skeptical, “Right.”

“I’m outta here,” you said. “Come on. There are better things to do than kissing strangers.”

“Really, cuz there are better things than us kissing?” he winked.

You rolled your eyes and felt your cheeks flush pink again. You grabbed his hand, “Yes, there are. Such as not having other people have to watch and wait for their turn.”

He bit his lip and tightened his hand around yours, “Let’s go this way.”

You raised a brow and let him drag you all the way behind the house, between the fence that already led to the neighbor’s place.

You giggled as he pulled you into his arms and crashed his lips back onto yours, harder and more intense than just minutes ago. His lips were all over you, devouring you as you felt your stomach clench with excitement. You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him back, feeling his hands slither down your back.

His tongue was just as perfect, roaming around and exploring your mouth right after you granted him entrance. You bit his lip and smiled, pulling him back for another kiss that lasted for what seemed like an hour until you heard police sirens coming from outside the house.

“Shit,” you pulled away. “I gotta go.”

“What?” he asked, still in a daze and looking at your beautiful face.

“I’ll see you,” you pecked his lips.

“Wait, give me your phone,” you smiled as you did just that, heart pounding ecstatically. He put his number on your phone and kissed you one more time. “Name’s Jason by the way.”

“(Name),” you smiled. He took off before you climbed up the fence and escaped to the neighbor’s lawn. You reached the sidewalk and took out your phone.

You scanned your contacts, but there was no Jason. Instead, it read ‘The best damn kiss you’re ever gonna have.”

I can’t support Daenerys in conquering Westeros

Because Daenerys will inadvertently kill off thousands of innocent people when she takes Westeros. 

I can’t support her because she also wants to destroy the houses of the lords who helped overthrow her mad/incompetent father, which is the majority of Westerosi nobility (including the Starks, Baratheons, Arryns, Lannisters, Tullys). She doesn’t know and doesn’t want to know why her father was usurped, so she just blindly thinks that the Rebellion was unprovoked, and that every house who aided Robert in the Rebellion are traitorous dogs. 

I can never get super fan-girl excited when she gives a speech about “taking what is mine” and about conquering Westeros and all that. Cause Westeros isn’t hers. and at this point, it shouldn’t be. With her her dragons, and now her khalasar, she will lay waste to Westeros. Thousands will die, or become enslaved, or be raped, or burned alive, just so she can “take what is mine”. 

The Dothraki believe in slavery, and we all know from Meereen and Astapor and Yunki what happens when slavery is suddenly abolished from an unprepared culture. Yes, slavery should be abolished, but if you go about it the wrong way, more problems arise. Like an uprising. Remember what happened when Daenerys stopped Drogo’s blood riders from raping a group of women? Drogo was challenged. 

After conquering, the Dothraki take and plunder, meaning they will take gold and riches, tear down ancient castles, as well as take actual human beings to show their victory. They take women to rape as a reward, and slaves to show their prowess. 

And her dragons are not trained, and they can never be fully tamed, so if you don’t think they’ll burn some people and animals alive, you’re deluded. Not only that, but they could probably burn crops and entire herds, and people would go hungry. 

And just as a reminder, when Ned Stark was beheaded she was like “good”. 

I can’t support Daenerys. How many innocent people would suffer for her to “take back what is “hers?  If she doesn’t realize that that will likely happen, she’s an ignorant child who shouldn’t be queen, because she doesn’t see the consequences. 

I get it. people die to conquer nations, innocent people die, but what Daenerys doesn’t seem to realize is that WILL happen if she takes Westeros. She, who is merciful, and kind, and hates slavery with a passion, will end up causing a great amount of suffering to achieve her goals. 

Doctor Who: Titanic

AU where they never left Jack behind on Satellite 5 and go on the Titanic.

While the Doctor is busy herding people into lifeboats, Jack and Rose are reenacting the movie because Rose thought it was “meant to be.”

She does rather dramatically let go of Jack’s wrist, and he does drown, but swims up a minute later because he can’t die

Jerome's Adventure

Jerome Gif (x)

Part Two

Summery: When Arkham starts assigning patients to specif doctors Jerome isn’t happy to find he has to share his favorite doctor with Aaron Helzinger. Naturally Jerome has just the plan to fix his problem.

Jerome Valeska x Fem!Reader


“Jerome your doctors back.” Barb muttered as she sat down next to the boy who perked up as he spotted you chatting to a guard.

“She isn’t with the nasty doctor this time.” Someone whispered and Jerome grinned as he span to face everyone.

“She passed her tests last week, gave me a bar of chocolate because I behaved during her tests, because of me she got top marks and one of the other test subjects tried to eat his doctor.” Jerome burst into giggles and you glanced over at the noise.

When you crossed the room, and stopped to speak with Aaron, Jerome stopped laughing and watched the two of you carefully. You turned your back to Jerome and nodded as Aaron spoke to you.

“All right you lot out into the big room.” One of the guards yelled and banged on the metal fence as a door opened and people were herded into the room.

You pointed for Aaron to follow after Barb, smiling when Jerome skipped over and yelled boo, chuckling when you tried to hide the small laugh that escaped you.

“How was your weekend Jerome?” You asked and hoped he’d get distracted by your conversation long enough to be compliant and follow everyone else.

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Egad! Tzad! or: Rabbis vs. Rabbits.

I saw @truagh-mo-thuras’s rabbit post and it reminded me of the hilarity-cum-surreality that went down at shul yesterday–

I had translated a German article for Mrs. Dr. Venice, so I needed to check in with her about that during kiddush. As services let out, I couldn’t find her anywhere in the building, so I asked the rabbi if he had seen her leave. “She went outside but she’ll come back,” he said; “she’s dealing with the purported rabbit.” This mysterious decontextualized information led me to believe that I ought to wait by the door.

At length Mrs. Dr. Venice reappeared and filled me in. Apparently she had first reported seeing a domesticated-looking rabbit lurking around the synagogue grounds on Thursday and had been widely disbelieved. On Shabbat morning, a small child had also reported seeing the rabbit while walking into the synagogue, and was also widely disbelieved. Nonetheless, this rumor eventually reached the Drs. Venices’ pew and Mrs. Dr., remaining firm in her belief in renegade rabbits, skedaddled to investigate. 

She searched and searched, but to no avail. Somebody was due to pick me up from shul, so after kiddush we walked back out to the front door together. As Mrs. Dr. Venice and I stood on the stoop chatting, what should hop out of the bushes and literally between our feet but a brown and white spotted, spooked-looking rabbit. “It’s real!” I exclaimed. “Fetch the rabbi!” she exclaimed. 

The rabbi was summoned, with a small cluster of rabbit-deniers, and, naturally, everybody began arguing. The rabbit seemed to be a lost pet, but it did not have a tag and nobody could recall having seen advertisements for such an escapee. While obviously freaked out, it was also not particularly afraid of people. The trad-egal-ish folks started looking for lib-conservative-ish folks who might be willing to phone Animal Control. Even once helpful, not terribly shabbosdik people were located, none of them had the Animal Control number already in their phones. Does the synagogue have a phone book? Yes, it’s in the office. Does somebody have a key to the office? Yes, there’s a spare in the storeroom. Are the lights on in the storeroom or the office??? Of course not! Crash, bash, bang, boom, three confused Jews in a very dark room! 

As the ringleader of the Talmud study group (which–in his words–is “in Bava Metzia for the remainder of our foreseeable lives”), Dr. Linguistics was delighted to be presented with this learning opportunity. Is one obligated to catch the rabbit as an item of lost property, in order to eventually return it to its owner? Is the rabbit sufficiently domesticated that the prohibition on trapping on Shabbat doesn’t apply? Could we move the rabbit on Shabbat, or is that muktza even though it’s not our rabbit and we are gaining no benefit from it? And (peak Bava Metzia here), if somebody did eventually succeed in calling Animal Control, which unfortunate Jew would be the shomer chinnam, i.e., person who stays indefinitely at shul waiting for a rabbit transfer to happen while the rest of us get to go home? Please imagine these halachic points being discussed by a cluster of elderly men who are following at a leisurely pace behind the erratic wanderings of an increasingly distressed rabbit. You’re welcome. 

Now, not long after I spotted the creature, my ride arrived and I left, but Mrs. Mashgiach did fill me in on the rest. It was eventually determined that, yes, the synagogue members were obligated to trap the rabbit in order to alleviate its distress. Ergo, all three rabbis and Mr. Dr. Venice eventually managed to herd it into the fenced-in children’s play area. About the same time that somebody finally managed to get through to Animal Control and, of course, general argument once again began, it dawned on this unlikely group of cowpokes that the average pet rabbit is smaller than the average Jewish toddler and can totes squeeze through a fence intended to contain the latter. Indeed, the rabbit made a successful break for it and led all three rabbis and Mr. Dr. Venice on an ultimately futile chase through the woodsy area behind the synagogue, during the course of which Mr. Dr. Venice fell into a stream.

I am now, of course, going to tease him for the same amount of time he teased me about that instance when I cast myself into a pond for tashlich, i.e., as long as the Talmud study group remains on Bava Metzia. 

The Stranger Came In A Boat (Part Two)

Reader x Hvitserk

Part One  Part Three


You begged and screamed, promising anything you could think of, simply wanting to get out of the wedding. Despite the constant pleading you went ignored. “You cannot make me father!” You hissed and tried to yank from his grip but found yourself slung over his shoulder.

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