herding people

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

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.

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

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!


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.”


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.

One day, one rhyme- Day 1154

What if spiders could fly like flies,
Or had eight fangs as well as eyes?
What if fish had feathers like birds?
What if moths flew around in herds?
Imagine how people would talk
If leopards swam and squid could walk?
What if chocolate tasted bad?
What if laughing could make you sad?
What if forests were turned around
And all the leaves were underground?
What if the grass grew on the sky
And cars could float, and ships could fly,
Or if you gained weight playing sports?
Some of my past 3am thoughts.

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.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Can you do a fic where Betty's dad turns out to be the killer of Jason, and because of it the fallout is her getting bullied and harassed by students at school. But she still has Jughead by her side to help her. Her friends too, but mainly Jughead.

Here you go, hope you like it! 

A/N: Even though I only wrote about Jughead being there to support her through this, we can safely assume that her friends are supportive as well. I just didn’t include it for length purposes 

“Can you believe she showed up today?”

“There’s no way I’d show my face around here after what happened.”

“She’s a disgrace to Jason’s memory, someone should talk to the principal about getting her expelled.”

“She’s such a freak. Total head case.”

“You know what they say. Like father, like daughter I guess.”

Betty slammed her locker door shut as hard as she could, hoping that the sound of metal on metal would block out the whispers that had been following her around all morning. As soon as she entered through the double doors of the high school, it was as if every eye turned to watch her, following her every move and waiting for her to snap.

“Cheryl!” Betty caught a glimpse of the silky red hair bobbing down the hallway and she pushed past the sea of classmates to catch up to her.

“Get away from me, you spawn of a heartless murderer,” Cheryl snapped, quickening her pace as her two obedient minions formed a protective shield around her, blocking Betty from coming too close. “Hasn’t your family done enough? Just leave us alone. Leave me alone.”

“If you could just let me explain then I could-” Betty struggled to get the words out before Cheryl’s sidekicks stopped short, stepping together to form a blockade to prevent Betty from creating a path to Cheryl.

“Psycho,” they spat at the same time, their words sliding off of their lips like venom as they removed the lids from their coffee cups and threw the lukewarm contents all over Betty’s favorite baby blue sweater.

“No!” Betty gasped, pawing at the sweater with her fingers in the pointless attempt to prevent a stain from forming on the fabric. “This isn’t happening.”

Betty turned back to the locker she had just left in hopes of changing into her gym shirt before first period, but as she finally made her way back through the crowd to her section of lockers, she came face to face with the word “MURDERER” written in thick red letters all across the metal surface.

“Who - who did this?” Betty asked no one in particular, her voice barely audible as her pulse started to quicken and her breathing came in panicked spurts. She could feel that anger rising up in her - the darkness she couldn’t control. As her classmates passed by, reading her locker, watching the girl who’s father had just been arrested for the murder of the beloved Jason Blossom, she felt herself digging her nails into her palms deeper, deeper, deeper until-

“Hey,” Jughead came into Betty’s view, taking her fists in his hands and prying them open so that her nails dropped away from her palms. “Shhh, Bets, you’re okay.”

“Jug,” Betty breathed, her eyes darting all around the hallway, taking in every last person who was whispering, watching, wondering. “I can’t do this, everyone is staring at me like I’m the one who killed Jason.”

“Betty, look at me,” Jughead told her, taking her face in his hands and stroking her cheeks gently with his thumbs. “Come on, just focus on my voice. Think about you and me in a booth at Pop’s. Just the two of us. No parents, no judgmental backstabbers. Just us.”

“Juggie, he’s ruined my life.” Betty’s voice was so small, so unlike her own, that Jughead wasn’t entirely sure that she was the one who had spoken the words in the first place. But as he took in the sad and broken frown and the tears beginning to pool up in her eyes, he knew that it could have only been Betty who had said anything.

“No, he hasn’t,” Jughead assured her. “Don’t give him that kind of power. He might have taken it upon himself to end another person’s life, but that doesn’t make him powerful. He can never take away your life with the sins he’s committed. You’re too strong for him to take anything away from you.”

“I don’t feel very strong right now,” Betty mumbled, her voice breaking slightly as she let the tears begin to fall slowly down her cheeks.

“You proved that you were by showing up today,” Jughead reminded her, wiping away a stray tear with his thumb before it fell to the tiled floor. “Some people would have taken this opportunity to hide in bed all day, shutting out the rest of the world until they felt semi-normal again. But you chose to face whatever life threw at you by actually being here to face it. That takes more strength than you could possibly know.”

“Yeah, well, I almost did stay at home,” Betty admitted. “I was one bag of cheese doodles and a DVD box set of the OC away from skipping school altogether.”

“But you didn’t,” Jughead offered, smoothing back a stray hair from popping out of her ponytail and smiling down at her reassuringly. “That’s what matters.”

Betty tried to return his smile, but her gaze was promptly drawn back to the locker and the coffee stain and the whispers and glares coming from all around her.

“But I can’t even make it down the hallway without feeling that darkness bubbling up inside of me,” Betty said, fear clouding her expression as a terrible thought suddenly flashed across her mind. “Juggie, what if I end up just like my dad. What if I do something like he did to-”

“That will never happen,” Jughead promised her, his eyes pleading with her to believe his words as he held her face in his hands. “Your father did what he did because he chose to give in to his own darkness. You choose to fight that same darkness everyday just by getting up and breathing and doing the very best that you can. That’s more than your father has ever done. That’s what sets you apart from him.”  

“I’m scared,” Betty’s voice cracked as a fresh set of tears popped up at the corners of her eyes.

“Of what?” Jughead wanted to know, his eyebrows drawing together in concern for the girl who had been his entire world for so long. “Cheryl and those girls?”

“No,” Betty breathed, her voice barely above a whisper. “Of ending up alone. Like my father.”

Before either of them said another word, Jughead pulled Betty into his arms, wishing that he could hug and kiss and love away all the pain that she was feeling.

“Betty you will always have me,” he whispered into her hair, pulling back slightly to meet her eyes. “No matter what happens, no matter what anyone says, it will always be you and me.”

“You mean that?”

“With all my heart,” Jughead promised, letting his forehead rest gently against hers before stepping away and gesturing to the quickly dispersing crowd of students in front of them as everyone made their way to their first class. “Now, let’s conquer this hallway together. What do you say?”

Jughead held out his hand for her to take, his eyes promising love and trust and hope as he looked down to meet her gaze.

“I say that I’m still scared,” Betty admitted, glancing from Jughead, to the herd of people, and back again. “But I won’t be a coward like my father. And I will never become him.”

With those final words, Betty laced her fingers through Jughead’s, blocking out everything but the other’s presence as they took their first few steps down the hallway and into the unknown together.  

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

anonymous asked:

chill maybe? people are just joking about jimin's expressions

some people are always joking, so what though? i’m sorry maybe you’re just not seeing the herds of people who are genuinely saying “i’m worried about him, he’s acting weird, is he okay” because they get influenced by the collages of jimin’s “stank face”? people that are spreading worry and negativity, even tweeting at the boys asking if he’s okay and not to mention people making “that” joke, yknow the one? lmao… it’s annoying because he was smiling a lot, but i guess not enough to y’all standards? let’s conveniently leave out the 30 times he smiled and focus on the 10 times he let his expression fall and make sure to also choose pics that fit the chosen narrative. i don’t get this… is it that more casual fans just aren’t used to the fact that jimin is more than constant smiles and that he also happens to have quite the epic resting bitch face lol, and thus get surprised seeing more coverage of him and are like “THIS ISN’T THE JIMIN I KNOW SOMETHING’S WRONG”? surprise he’s a human being! if it’s not that what is it? what is your goal of spreading this negativity and untruth? why do you choose to disregard reality and bask in negativity instead even at the risk of hurting the boy you supposedly care about? ask yourself that. the reason why i hate this is that jimin is susceptible to what fans say, it’s the same reason why you won’t hear him talk to fans about weight issues anymore, if you want jimin to constantly put on a fake smile wherever he is instead of letting us see his natural expressions then keep making the jokes and keep putting pressure on him tho, go ahead

A traveller`s tale

A traveller wandered far and wide,
searching after shells of gold on the sea side,
when, came a big and glowing tide,
see: it arrived with a mysterious guide.

It arrived in seaweed and kelp of gold,
and glitter actually, although it looked old,
a message in bottle, carefully hand rolled,
a scroll that mysterious secrets told.

The traveller got scared of what he read
so he went to the wisest sorcerer instead
he told mysteries too profound for his head,
secrets like pearls on a magic type of thread.

“First, you have to go to the mountains of wise
in a most precise and brilliant disguise
and when you hear the seven melodic cries
look for the green and feminine eyes.

Then, when you`ve found out the secrets it hid,
look for the octopus, rather squid
made in arms of bronze, it is holding a grid,
though, be very careful, it will you forbid.

So, now you`ve found the core of coal,
you need some ampere to get it to roll,
and some salt from sea to put in a bowl,
this, will taste good for your dry soul.

You need some mercury in pocket as well,
this, will the seventh artisan sell,
he lives near the secret, royal cells
you know him by a most certain smell.

This, there is,” said the sorcrerer then,
“These are the secrets of ancient zen,
the gold that will teach all mankind`s men
to stay in their true nature again.”

The traveller looked at him questioning
all that he said, then lessening
the secrets he told, as lecturing,
accusing him of Mind`s trespassing.

So, sorcerer smiled, and then disappeared,
leaving the traveller lost and afeared,
but then his great ego got it all cleared,
and now he felt the whole thing as weird.

“But this”, he said, “this, I will sell,
this will be better than golden shells,
so here I can`t stay, I cannot dwell,
I have to go out to the world and tell!”

He went to the city with structures of high,
these mountains of city disguised the sky,
the first thing he heard, was a choir of sigh,
they sang about sorrow, and there were the eyes!

This woman of song, she looked like a fairy,
her eyes of green and with hair of cherry,
in melodies sang, sounded heavenly airy
her dress with flowers: her name was Mary.

He loved her from the very first look,  
the air it stopped, the ground it shook
this, hadn`t been learned from some ancient book,
this feeling of being trapped in this nook!

He stayed and listened to her magical song,
for hours wide, for minutes long,
her voice was soft, but yet, so strong,
he felt like in heaven, like here - he belonged!

And then it was over, they all went away,
and he couldn`t be, no he couldn`t stay,
he had to go follow, he needed to say
how she was her newer, brighter day.

He followed her into an area grand,
this old deposit of farmer`s land
now only grass, and home to a brand:
this carnival named “Fun in Sand”

And there, where this carousel had its night,
he saw this strange and macabre sight,
a ten-armed monster, an octopus white
with arms made of bronze in mighty height.

Now this is when he first feels pain,
how heart is binded by heavy chain
he saw his beauty, in salty rain,
and suddenly insight of sorrow attained.

He walked away, he couldn`t see,
he had to run, he had to flee,
he ran to the salt and down to the sea,
he did not want to stay, nor be.

 And when the flood reached its tide, 
there weren`t more chances to stay and hide, 
he suddenly turned his head to the side,
a strangest smell, something oddly fried.

By seven blocks, in the royal street,
a man sat on dirty, colored sheets,
he cooked in bowl of bronze so neat,
it made the cloth fold into pleats.

“I`ll give you the taste of the soul of sea!
it happens in every time made three,
so look at me son, sit down on your knee`
tell me your sorrows and give me your plea!”

And wanderer cried, and therefore the key
he gave to his Master in happenings three,
he told about sorrow, `bout lady, yes, she
who captured his heart, so that he wasn`t free.

And Master he listnened, and nodded, and smiled,
he knew `bout this human, this fleed, free child,
the one who chose to be bold and wild,
who never was shaped, or formed, nor styled.

“You felt all alive, yes almost awake,
and air it danced while the ground did shake,
but then it all stopped, yes all did it brake,
and all that you are is now in deep ache”

The wanderer listened, for first time he heard,
he started to see from a vision so blurred,
he stopped to think like he was one in herd,
of people and thoughts, but now more like a bird.

“But, how did you see this? How did you…”
“Know? Oh, I have my secrets, my own sacred flow.
But you, you forgot… your cargo.”

Yes, wanderer looked in his right hand,
a bottle with message, once covered in sand,
he found it there, floating, so then it reached land,
and here he now was, and now had to stand.

He carefully opened, this old paper strand,
his arm was shaking, yes this was grand.

“When pain has arrived, decided to stay,
you`ll feel all at lost, your soul will feel gray,
but then is this game that you`ll need to play;
you`ll stand up again, and find new bay:

Your heart is the message, your heart is the soul,
and this, is thousands of years old,
you`ll need some pain, or may we say coal,
to reach your final, greatest role. “

A traveller`s tale, can never fail,
find your purpose,
remove the veil.

Stealing Spirits

As we drove across the dried up river bed I noticed a group of Hammer tribes people herding their cows. The driver stopped and I began to take photos of them in the distance with their cows (and AK-47′s) 

Approaching they seemed to be unusually angry and were yelling at our driver. Generally all the tribes people ask or rather demand money for photos, but it was something else this time. 

The problem wasn’t their photos being taken but the photos of the live stock. They explained how my camera was stealing the spirits of their cows their most valuable possessions. - Omo Valley, Ethiopia

Saviour - Poe Dameron/Reader

Title: Saviour

Pairing: Poe/Reader 

Warning(s): None

Word Count: 2,430

Prompt: The Reader sneaks into an imperial-held city for the Resistance. What you find, however, is enough to rattle your senses.

Originally posted by coolbackflips

The city has been occupied for months. An offshoot of the empire has held the city against everything thrown at it – the resistance, the city’s old army, or at least, those who had escaped it. Smoke still billows from the citadel and the palace in the centre of the city. Comms sent by pleading and desperate citizens keep hitting the resistance’s airwaves.

You slide your dagger into the sheath by your waist. The soldiers can’t make it passed the walls. The pilots are being shot down out of the sky. Orders come in from the General that anyone who’s able to sneak into the city should be allowed to.

You’ve done it before, sneaking into bases and cities in the name of gathering information to carrying out a kill order for the resistance. Dressed in civilian clothes, maybe you could sneak in by the waterways.

You look at yourself in the small mirror, then to the man watching you from the entrance of your tent.

“You’re doing that face again,” you note, picking up your blaster and checking its munitions.

Poe sighs, tightening his arms over his chest. “This is my worried face,” he replies, “I always do it when I’m worried.”

When all of your weapons are concealed, you zip up your jacket. Poe steps towards you, a worried look still etched on his face. “I’ll be fine,” you assure him.

He reaches out for one of your gloved hands.

“Promise me,” he says gently. Over his shoulder, you can see outside of the tent. A few other spies are getting ready, checking with each other that their comms are working. One of them, Karé, meets your gaze and waves you to her.  

You look back to Poe. “I promise.”

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

low growls can be herd as he sees people still talking about the mark on there hand. Mute is not happy- mute

Good to have such a protective bro bro.

An Outcast Love

Warnings - Just teenage stuff

Pairing - Jughead Jones x reader

Summary - Riverdale isn’t put out to be such the welcoming & homey place, so when ‘the reader’ joins the gang, why does the presence of a particular beanie-wearing outcast make her feel warm inside?

A/n - Holy cheese in cereal you guys really love Jughead! But who am I to blame you, I love him too, we all love him. So have fun reading this my beautiful people, and I hope you enjoy!

Originally posted by destinyhayden

It was the first day of school, and I had conveniently joined Riverdale high right on the day of the dance. It felt as if the world was against me, saying ‘ha, social torture seems to be the best form of punishment on this particular occasion.’ but, to my luck I knew my cousin whom I was currently living with, Veronica Lodge. She was running late, so if you ask me, that was an excuse for her ‘private time’ with a particular red head. She said just to go into the gaming room and I will promptly see a weird beanie-wearing guy of our age. I walked into the room to see him, tall, dark & handsome, sitting down staring intently down at his laptop. It gave me shivers just thinking about him acknowledging me, well I’ll need to talk to him first, find out if this handsome character has an actual human interior contrasted to his God-like exterior. I walked over nervously, tucking my hair behind my ear, I sat down. “Hi, I’m y/n y/l/n, Veronica’s cousin.” I said, bitting my lip when I see him look up from his computer, he tilted his head slightly, looking me up and down, before typing furiously at his laptop. “I heard you were coming to town, welcome to the island of misfit toys y/n.” He smirked deviously at his computer, still typing away, and looking very in tune with that life that the real one. It was kind of interesting to see an introvert like him, not many were around during this day and age, and I found myself to be one at heart. I was about to say something, before Archie, Veronica, Betty and Kevin turned up in a big group, surrounding us. “So, you’ve met Jughead.” Veronica inquired, “Quite formally.” I said, smirking as I saw Jughead smiling down at his work from my comment. “Mhmm.. well, we have some classes to get to, come on!” She puts her arm out, and I take it within mine without saying goodbye to anyone else, but Betty followed soon after. “So Jughead, huh?” She raises her eyebrow suggestively, smiling devilishly. “Ronnie, I have only just met him.” I said, deflecting my case. “I’m totally going to ship it. Now, come on, English is one of my favourite periods.” She inquired, rolling her eyes and walking off, myself running up and walking beside her, looking through the crowd as the commotion died down. 

“Okay, black, or black?” Veronica asked, looking at me from her bedroom wardrobe, myself sitting comfortably on the bed. “I think, black.” “Both of them are black! Which one?” she asked again. I couldn’t take my mind off him, his dark hair, tall figure and- “Y/n, I need your help.” She stated, placing the dresses on the bed in front of me. “Which one is more flattering on me?” I just looked down, pointing to the left one and leaning back down, closing my eyes. “Your turn!” I hear from next to me, her eyes lighting up when mine meet hers. “Maybe I can just sit with my ice-cream and my failed hopes & dreams?” I asked, looking at through the mirror as she presents a dress to me. It was navy blue and went out at the waist, she squealed out of excitement & hurried me off to get changed, and before I knew it, we were on our way there. I sat in the car, playing with my fingers as Ronnie was texting whoever. Looking out the window, I saw that we had arrived, the car slowing down and parking at the entrance of the school. I sighed, biting my lip and opening the door, seeing the many people herding themselves towards the gym. Veronica got out, taking my wrist and practically dragging me up the stairs and towards the gym along with the other flocks of people, fancy dresses and tuxedos. We slowed down towards the entrance of the dance, the music thumping through my ears as I looked both ways, swallowing hard and looking back towards Ronnie. We both nodded at each other, walking in and finding the gang straight away, talking as the dance started to commence. I walked over with Ronnie, looking down and then looking back up & met eyes with Jughead’s full of sparkle and wonder, such like a small child being introduced to disney. I smiled lightly, looking down as Veronica started talking for both of our sakes. A slow song started to play mid sentence, and Ronnie looked over to me, rushing me over to Jughead, I looked back and suddenly collided with his chest. “Jesus Christ.” I muttered and laughed, looking up slightly, checking his smiling expression.

 “You look very lovely, Juliet.” I smiled, “You too, Romeo, but don’t get too hooked, you may find that everyone around me dies.” I joked, he grinned. “Shall we?” he asked, putting his hand out to mine, to which I nodded and took it, walking out mid dance floor, putting my hands around his shoulders, his around my waist, pulling me close. “So, since I’m assuming you intend for a new start here, I’m not going to quiz you on your past.” He said, looking down to me, I smiled, looking down and putting my head to his chest lightly. “I believe this place can be quite the interesting location.” I looked up, him looking down already into my gaze. “After Jason Blossom, it hasn’t really ever been the same, everyone’s a suspect.” He said, raising an eyebrow at me. “I only ask because of previous information, I’m not a good conversationalist.” I replied, looking away, biting my lip. He sighed, “Well, if you ever need your local, history buff if you will, I’m always here.” I smiled and looking back up, “I’ll consider your advice very helpful, but for now I think the murderer could take a day off and let us enjoy this dance.” I smirked, he returned the smile and turned me around, then pulled me back in. I looked up once again, but this time it felt for magical. His eyes glued to mine, mine glued to his. Before I knew it, his soft lips were on mine and we were caught into a beautiful & passionate kiss, slightly needy, but it was covered from the lust of both of us. His hands searched my back as mine tugged on his hair, soon, our lips departed each other’s and his lips fell to a light kiss on my jaw. “Not so far, Jughead.” I took his face in my hand, pecking his lips lightly. “We’ll continue this later.” I smirked, along with his lustful grin. 

 -  I’m a vegetarian and like animal skins and furs are SO efficient  -  like eons of evolution produced this and that’s magical  -  so provided that it’s not from an endangered animal hoo boy go for it  -  and the op stated in tags when I reblogged this commented version from them that it’s reindeer fur  -  animal hide and fur is so durable like it’ll last you a lifetime so keep it and save the world the burden of churning out shitty replicas  -  every few years when your pleather jacket wears out (via @margotmilevaz)

These made me so happy! 

Additional reasons why I like the fur in the photo in particular: - it’s a sitting mat, which are usually offcuts from poorer quality pelts, that may have damages or is otherwise not ideal for sale as a whole piece. it’s one way of making sure as much as possible is used and as little as possible is refused or thrown out. - it’s made of domestic reindeer which (here, at least) is an industry reserved for indigenous people. herding and working them is central to Sámi culture. - this is not a “fur industry” product, the whole animal is used and serves a purpose. - it being real pelt means it’s biodegradable, which most “faux” options are not. I’ll be using this for hiking (when it’s not chillin in front of a camera) so it’s good to know that should I forget it somewhere, or otherwise lose it, it’ll eventually just break down and not cause further harm. 

It’s also just super lightweight and super warm, and will be doing my butt many good favours when we’re 3,000ft above sea level and the fog comes rolling in.

Out of the lazy, slavish herd of faithful devotees to gods that they were taught to hold as theirs; out of the immense unthinking herd of people who respect the dictates of their fathers and of priests, there come a few who really think—who question and who doubt, and walk in their own light. They need no liberator, for they are free; no healer, for they are whole; no comfort, for they are happy. They are the strong and beautiful.

~ Savitri Devi, ‘Akhnaton, a play’, 1948