#Wash Hands

[ricisidro]

Solving the puzzle of Long Covid, published in Science @ScienceMagazine on 22 Feb 2024 | written by Dr. Ziyad Al-Aly @zalaly and Dr. @EricTopol

More than 90% of cases occur in people who have mild SARS-CoV-2 infection.

#CovidIsAirborne #MaskUp #WashHands

https://www.science.org/doi/10.1126/science.adl0867

[shirozen]

Rinse and repeat mess

[zwede]

Very cool.

[polluteme]

Source

[gdcathychen]

【Cartoon】Soap strikes back

[tallcatleo]

I'm baking a storm up right now. I feel so guilty after not baking for 2 days. Like I don't know what I want to do with my life but I need to take grip on something and not let go. Thus bake. 🧑‍🍳

At least I wash my hands every 15 minutes. Maybe I can survive life. And move out in like a year....

[incognitopolls]

We ask your questions anonymously so you don’t have to! Submissions are open on the 1st and 15th of the month.

[birdhand-art]

anotha one. yall went crazy for the last one and these are a fun quick exercise for me so get rosed on

@kazzzled credit to my beautiful wife for calling dibs on which one i should do next

dirk version

[shotmrmiller]

sex pollen trope where you're the one affected, having been exposed to some dense gas while on an op that felt like harsh sandpaper across your throat and lungs, and now you're a feverish mess on some ratty cot in a safe house and with only ghost as company, it's miserable, as the saying goes.

hair sticking to your sweaty skin, plastered onto your forehead and neck, every swallow feeling like you've got a mouthful of sand, your fluttering pulse wild and deafening in your ears, and the throbbing ache deep in your core, the blistering heat right below your navel— it'd only been uncomfortable in the beginning, the faint throbbing incredibly familiar, but the more you ignored it, the worse it got.

and now you're here, with arousal sticking your underwear to your pussy, unable to do anything about it because your lieutenant is seated in a corner that lets him have both you and the front door within his line of sight. a quick, discreet rub under your clothes is not an option.

someone put you out of your foggy misery.

"squirmin' like a worm on a 'ook isn't gonna help." his staring doesn't either, yet he does it anyway.

"got to make sure ya aren't dyin' on me." you want to snap that you don't think proof of life is on the darkened stain between your legs, the retort pressed behind clenched teeth but another thick wave of bestial need rolls over you and god, you're about to shove your hand into your underwear, propriety be damned—

"best you don't do tha'." why the fuck not? "you'll only get relief for a moment 'fore it comes back twofold." he says as if he's reading off the morning paper and not watching you fight tooth and nail to not fuck yourself against the pillow your head is on. (soap's offer to be friends with benefits is only looking better by the hour.)

you hastily decide that it'll be better than nothing. you'll just have to rub your pussy raw until this drug runs its course and you're telling him to piss off or don't, but you've had enough. you're stuck here with him anyway, no flight home until the morn and you're not about to spend it writhing around.

"if tha's wha' you want," ghost bites his gloves off, spitting them out onto the ground before curling his hands around your ankles and dragging you toward him. "i will help." your entire world narrows down to the feel of him touching your skin, his fingers searing as they hook into the waistband of your pants, and you almost kick him in the mouth trying to get them off faster.

"but 'm not fuckin' you." the bite of disappointment is quickly forgotten, his breath warm against your slick pussy, and after three quick glides of his tongue over your pearl, your orgasm crests, pulse after pulse of pleasure so potent it stung.

in less than a minute you're burning again, need thrumming through you and with the heady push and drag of his middle finger over your sensitive nerves, curling in you until he can fit two, three—

you're lost.

(ghost telling you that he's not doing anything else because if he's going to fuck you then you're going to remember it falls on ringing ears.)

[ricisidro]

CDC data suggests that COVID-19 infections are probably growing in at least 38 states in the US as the summer wave of COVID-19 arrives.

#SARSCoV2 #KP2 #KP3 #JN1 #GetVaccinated #MaskUp

#Ventilate #WashHands

-https://www.cnn.com/2024/06/28/health/covid-summer-wave/index.html

-https://www.cdc.gov/forecast-outbreak-analytics/about/rt-estimates.html#covid

[zephyrchama]

"Solomon?"

"Yeah?"

The wizard's voice carried from the other room where he was fussing over settings on the dining room table.

"Why is there a homunculus in the kitchen?" you asked.

A small being with empty holes for eyes writhed along the counter top. It was doughy, with an assortment of leafy spices sticking out of its body. When it reached out to drag itself forward, bits of its arms stuck to its body like goo. It gave you the creeps.

There was a beat of silence before Solomon replied, "What?"

"The homunculus next to the stove," you explained. "Where did that come from?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. However, I might have spilled some ingredients while mixing, can you wipe it up for me?" Solomon was not visible, but he sounded as calm and upbeat as ever.

You backed away as the homunculus wormed closer to the counter's edge. Every few seconds it made a small, high pitched peeping sound. You didn't know where the sound was coming from. It had no mouth.

"I'm not cleaning up your mess," you called. "Also, I'm pretty sure it has consciousness."

There were footsteps in the dining room. "I honestly don't know what you're talking about. Maybe you're so hungry you're hallucinating? I've set the table, come and dig in."

At long last, Solomon popped his head into the kitchen. You occupied the corner, too wary to get close to the little abomination but unwilling to take your eyes off it. If it fell on the floor and scuttled into another room, who knew where it would end up. You wouldn't be able to sleep at night. Solomon followed your gaze.

"Oh, hey! Look at this!" he laughed, pointing at his accidental child. He went to scoop it up in his hands. "You're right. Huh. I was wondering why our dinner portions were on the small side. Shall we invite it to eat with us?"

[halorvic]

December 19-21, 2024

[radiance1]

ANOTHER little tidbit for this stupid lil thing.

The Batfam believe that Damian is a meta of some kind.

Why?

Because of Danny.

Danny acts like the eyes on the back of Damian's head, which Damian is able to just explain away enough that he has great spatial awareness. Cool, yea, they could take that. The fact that the temperature drops whenever Damian is around? Okay, that's somewhat alarming.

How he's able to stay in the air for just a second too long that always him to hit the ground safely? How a few times he looked like he was briefly stopped in said air before being let down?

That's... A bit hard to explain but the Batfam aren't going to pry considering he was new to the family.

How he never seems to need to charge his phone, or any other electronic device? Of course, it could be explained away that he just charges them in his room or out of sight... If his charger didn't look like it wasn't used at all, that is.

Just... Various little things that Damian could explain away, but keep piling up until the entire family comes to the conclusion that Damian was a meta, if the League and Damian himself knew this or not is the question.

Alfred finds out that such is not the case.

Why?

Because Danny, absolute child that he was and still is since his death, very much loves Alfred's cookies (and who doesn't.) and got impatient to get some and couldn't wait for Damian to swipe some more for him (since Alfred forbade Damian from taking anymore before the rest could get any).

Alfred was the only one who entered the kitchen at the time, and it did indeed puzzle him to see cookies disappearing into thin air.

[peglarpapers]

me at the pearly gates: heyyy god

god: okay so look it's really straightforward the one rule is you can never have read fanfiction where celebrated 1840s naval officer james fitzjames is tenderly forcibly feminised by his even more decorated naval superior francis rawdon moira crozier specifically wherein the latter's dick does not work because they are both in the middling stages of scurvy like that's the only thing

me: okay listen 🤦

[bisexualcroissant]

andrew helping neil shower was so tender i’m crying into my fucking fist. andrew wrapping up neil’s wounds so they wouldn’t hurt in the water. andrew helping him take his clothes off to shower because it caused neil too much pain to pull them all the way off. andrew washing neil’s hair. andrew helping him stand up when he was struggling to balance. and then neil crossing his arms behind andrew’s head to keep him closer, tilting andrew’s face up to kiss him. i’m so fucking soft for them oh my god

[summergirl2408]

After about 11 months and 777.5 hours of work I am finally done and I am obsessed with the end result

pattern by @forineffablereasons / @darcylindbergh

stitched on 18ct aida fabric with 2 strands of dmc floss