#Leaflet insertion

[universalmediaa]

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[mahmoud0qassas]

I will open my heart to you.. but

Oh Lord.. Oh Allah, make fun of every one who loves you.. and hopes to meet you to enter him into Paradise.. And I also hope that you will feel our suffering and feel what we are experiencing from your hearts, because we die every day and you will not feel it because you are not living with the same pain and suffering.

You will say, I swear, I feel sorry for you. You are sincere and sensitive, and you see our suffering on television.

But we have tasted bitterness, injustice and oppression, and what oppresses you is that most of your followers do not read all my words and do not feel all the pain you go through.

Do you know what pain and suffering is?

We live and do not know our fate, and every day the Israeli army throws leaflets at us from its warplanes to evacuate our places. We were displaced 7 times, and each displacement incurs great expenses and a new tent when you escape without it.

Do you know what Azma’s suffering is, and I would like to ask you... The tent that we make to cover your household and family... Do you think it covers our hardships? The answer is no, no. Our tents are set up in the street and are exposed to all passersby.

I am now crying, and I and my young son are in the hospital, and my son is receiving treatment because he inserted an ear cleaning tool and inserted it so much that it pierced his eardrum and he caused severe bleeding from his ear, and all of this is because of displacement and war 😭😭

It was late, and the hospital was 4 kilometers away from me, so I carried my son and went on foot, and the warplanes were bombing the Nuseirat camp, as the direction to the hospital was from the same road.

I want to ask you: How do you feel when you are afraid for your son, and you are walking a long road, amid heavy bombardment?

I hope you watch the two video clips, which explain in detail our suffering, as the first video is for my 7-year-old daughter, who dreams and makes one wish: that you feel us and stand with us.

The second clip explains the suffering we are experiencing in detail, and shows the suffering of the tents.. and my wife preparing fresh bread.. and I was lighting fires to prepare food while my children were next to me.

Feel for us from your heart... Donate generously and ease our pain so we can travel and live a safe life, I hope you share it strongly so that the world can see the suffering we are experiencing.

[adagencychennai]

Pamphlet Distributors Chennai

pamphlet printing and distribution services   Pamphlet Distribution Advertisement Service Provider In Chennai A flyer is a form of paper advertisement intended for wide distribution and typically posted or distributed in a public place, handed out to individuals or sent through the mail. Unlike digital marketing there are fewer word count or character limit restrictions with leaflets. When it…

[heartlaboratory]

Due to a congenital heart defect her aortic valve, the one which separates her left ventricle from the rest of her body, grew with only 2 of the 3 naturally intended leaflets. Beside a very visible neck pulse, low blood pressure and a low tolerance to phisical efforts this has never been a problem for her but to avoid possible future consequences like heart wall hypertrophy (that would make her heart extremely visible under her thin rib cage) and important arrhythmias she decided to undergo a new experimental slightly invasive surgical procedure. Very thin probes will be inserted through her left side chest, they will enter inside the heart from a safe point and after reaching her aortic valve the surgeon will have to reshape it while the heart is still normally beating. She will be awake during the whole procedure, with just a local pain killer administered to the point in which the probes will be inserted (that's the reason why she decided for this procedure: she's scared by general anesthesia). She passed all the important preliminary controls to verify she was suited for the procedure and the intervention began.

Was it the idea of having small blades inside the center of her life? Was the fact that an iportant group of people (gathered to watch the experimental procedure) was looking at her completely naked holding her bare breasts? Was it having her beating heart clearly visible on a see through screen or the fact it was being manipulated right under her hand while she was feeling each beat? The moment after the probes penetrated her flesh a load of adrenaline rushed through her bloodstream making her heart rate to skyrocket.

Looking concerned at the screen, where the image of her damaged slamming valve taken by one of the probes was represented, the surgeon said: "She's too scared! All these movements are making the procedure too dangerous, a single mistake and she's gone. We have to put her to sleep..." Her entire chest was literally bounching with each heartbeat.

A strong aerial anesthetic was administered through the tube attached to her nose and before she had an heart attack realizing she was about to receive general anesthesia she fell asleep.

[fascistsarefreefood]

So when I wanted birth control pills I went to my local pharmacy and asked for them, I'm very lucky I have this option to autonomy over my body however it's important to note that birth control pills can have a lot of side effects that aren't properly investigated because of how underfunded reproductive health research is. Side effects of the contraceptive pill include (according to the patient information leaflet):

Serious: blood clots (in leg or foot ie DVT, in a lung ie PE, heart attack, stroke, mini stroke, clots in eye liver stomach or intestine, allergic reaction, breast cancer, cervical cancer, severe liver problems

Less serious: feeling sick, stomach ache, putting on weight, headaches, depressive mood or mood swings, sore breasts, being sick, fluid retention, migraine, loss of interest in sex, breast enlargement, skin rash, poor tolerance of contact lenses, weight loss, increase interest in sex, vaginal or breast discharge, bleeding and spotting between periods, chloasma, occurrence or deterioration of movement disorder chorea, crones disease or ulcerative colitis

In the UK if you want birth control you can go directly to some pharmacies and get it or you go to one GP appointment and get it even if you are under 16

Alternatively you might want an iud. iud insertions are painful women are told to just take an ibuprofen (which some research shows is less effective in women but again that hasn't been fully investigated) during insertion women have reported crying and passing out due to pain levels but it is still not advised that GPS use local anaesthetic during insertion. And again since there is no age restriction for contraception in the UK people under 16 also have to go through this. But that's considered totally acceptable.

What isn't acceptable according to the labour party, are puberty blockers which were obtained by first having a referral to a GP followed by appointments with a multidisciplinary team including a clinical psychologist, child psychotherapist, child and adolescent psychiatrist, family therapist and social worker over three to six months where their then mainly offered psychological treatment finally if your very lucky and also haven't already finished puberty by the time you get to this stage (because NHS waitlist are crazy) you might be sent to a hormone specialist where you might have been given puberty blockers which yes are indeed reversible (the onse that cause irreversible change are oestrogen and testosterone) you can read more about this topic here but this is no longer a possibility because puberty blockers are now considered too dangerous and why is this? What side effects could be worse than the ones caused by contraception that is also available to understand sixteens well apparently puberty blockers are oh so dangerous because they affect bone density. So AFAB people both adults and minors have to suffer from lots of side effects from birth control and no one ever once thought to try create a better version of the pill or they suffer large amounts of pain during iud insertion where again hardly anyone will get anaesthetic however puberty blockers are these terrible things because they may cause bone density issues if that were the case for contraceptives we'd be told to take some calcium and stop whining. Both contraceptives and puberty blockers perform essential functions that save lives and both deserve to be made as safe as possible but this is not about safety this is about hoping trans people will just disappear.

[bullet-prooflove]

4500 Follower Celebration Bingo - Left Behind - Alden Parker x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @sarakafarrah @caffeinatedwoman @elefrog25-blog @writeandsurvive

When Alden disappears it’s you that’s under fire, you that takes the brunt of it when you return to NCIS HQ from working a case in Norfolk, to discover your husband is now wanted for murder and on the run with his ex-wife Vivian.

“They fooled you Lisa. It’s time to wake the hell up!” Agent Terry snarls at you across the conference room table. “Why are you protecting the man that’s been carrying on with his ex-wife behind your back?”

“If you had proof of that you’d be thrusting it in my face right now.” You tell him, your elbows coming to rest on the surface of the table. “Instead you’re throwing shit at the wall, hoping that it sticks.”

“Do actually believe him when he tells you that you’re the love of his life, that you’re the only woman he’s ever truly connected with?” He hits back because you aren’t playing ball. “Are you that fucking dumb?”

That’s when you realise they’ve been bugging your home, that they’ve been in your bedroom.

You shut down then, cross your arms over your chest and refuse to answer anymore of their questions because all you can think of is how this man and dozens of his colleagues know exactly how you fuck your husband.

The humiliation continues when they inform you that you’re suspended and march you through the building and all the way to your car. You’re not to contact anyone from NCIS, including Alden’s team so you have no idea what’s going on or the way the investigation is heading.

You know this is the FBI’s way of isolating you. They’re hoping you’ll trip up lead them to Alden or that you’ll feel so scorned that you’ll turn on him yourself.

More fool them, you think as you pick up a pack of cigarettes from the bodega and light one up. You don’t have a clue where Alden is and what he’s up to. This morning when you woke up you were happy, you’d made love to your husband, kissed him goodbye and then headed out to Norfolk for your case.

Now you’re technically homeless because you refuse to let the FBI witness your grief in the apartment you share with the man you love. You have no clothes, no luxuries, just the ring on your finger and two FBI agents trying to look inconspicuous as you smoke outside the hotel you’ve decided you’re staying in tonight.

You’ve barely been in your room an hour before the package arrives. You sign for it before tearing it open and tipping the contents onto the bed. There’s three items, a leaflet on orchid care, an eight of spades playing card and a key you don’t recognise.

It’s a message from Alden, one you read loud and clear.

 The Orchid House in the Botanical Gardens, 8pm.

Alden’s been sneaking in there for years, taking clippings for his own collection.

You disconnect the alarm attached the rear fire exit before you slip out the door, leaving a folded piece of paper from the desktop notepad tucked against the snip so you can sneak back in later.

It takes twenty minutes for you to walk to the gardens, you avoid security cameras and hop the fence near the broken street light to avoid detection. You use your pocket torch to light up the darkness as you track through the foliage, trying not to leave a trace of your presence.

When you reach The Orchid House, it’s pitch black and locked up tight. Your own ghostly reflection looks back at you before you insert the key in the door and step inside. The humidity hits you like a wave, the same way it always does when you walk in here. It makes your sweater cling to your skin as you stride towards the bench where Alden always likes to sit.

Something rustles a couple of metres away and you lift your head to see your husband striding towards you. His black overcoat flutters behind him, the moonlight catching the profile of his  features and your heart beats just a little faster in your chest.

“Lisa.” He whispers and you hurtle into his arms, because the past twelve hours have been an absolute, living hell and you need this right now, you need him. “Oh sweetheart I’m sorry, I’m so god damn sorry.”

“They bugged our house.” You tell him, burying your face into his chest. “Our bedroom…”

His grasp on you tightens because it galls him that the FBI are doing this to the both of you, that they’re listening to your private moments, that they’re breaking you apart.

“How can I help you fix this?” You ask him, drawing away so you can look into his eyes. “How can we clear your name?”

We.

That’s what he’s always loved about you, when there’s a problem to be solved it’s always a we. He’s never alone, not when he has you.

“I need you to stay strong for me sweetheart.” He murmurs as his forehead comes to rest upon yours. “To keep believing in me because things, they’re about to rough.”

Love Alden? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[rapeculturerealities]

The F.D.A. Now Says It Plainly: Morning-After Pills Are Not Abortion Pills - The New York Times

The Food and Drug Administration on Friday significantly changed the information that will be in every box of the most widely used emergency contraceptive pills to make clear that they do not prevent a fertilized egg from implanting in the womb. The agency explained in an accompanying document that the products cannot be described as abortion pills.

Up to now, packages of the brand-name pill, Plan B One-Step, as well as generic versions of it have said that the pill might work by preventing a fertilized egg from implanting in the womb — language that scientific evidence did not support. That wording led some abortion opponents and politicians who equate a fertilized egg with a person to say that taking the morning-after pill could be the equivalent of having an abortion or even committing murder.

The F.D.A. revised the leaflets inserted in packages of pills to say that the medication “works before release of an egg from the ovary,” meaning that it acts before fertilization, not after. The package insert also says the pill “will not work if you’re already pregnant, and will not affect an existing pregnancy.”

[backtothefanfiction]

As It Was

Summary: Javier has finally come back home, hoping his new demons from Columbia will drown out the ones he originally ran away from. Unfortunately, he’s not having much luck.

Word Count: 2.3K

Warnings: mentions of a car accident and relative/old girlfriend death

(This is just an introductory chapter, but other chapters may include smut. All will be marked with correct warnings)

A/N: this has been sat in my drafts for a couple weeks now. I had hoped to write the whole thing and drop it in one go, but seeing as I’m back to writing my book I don’t know when I’ll come back to it and it’s too good not to share. I was going to make this a reader insert however the opportunity to use Taylor Swift songs and do perspectives from the female characters perspective labelled Taylor’s Version was too good an opportunity to pass so it is an OFC fic (I hope that’s okay). Anyway this is the first in this little mini series inspired by Harry Styles songs and I hope you enjoy. So without further ado, welcome to Javi’s House!

ONE : As It Was

Javier didn’t want to come home. He’d been running for so long he didn’t even know what home was anymore. He wasn’t a complete asshole so of course he had been back once or twice to visit his Dad; but whenever he had, he had never actually left the farm. That was unless he absolutely had to, or he was headed back to the airport to travel to wherever the DEA sent him next.

For the longest time, Javier thought his demons from everything that happened back home would forever haunt him and be his boogeyman, but after nearly 15 years working for the DEA and his countless years spent in Columbia, everything back home finally felt like the lesser of two evils. So here he was, back living on his Father’s ranch, hoping that the moment he set foot back in town, it would be easier than when he was 21.

“Ey, hijo,” Chucho said, slapping a hand on his son’s shoulder over the back of the couch, “what do you want for dinner? I’m gonna call down to Annette’s, grab something to take out tonight.”

Javier rubbed at his face as he tried to remember who Annette was and what type of restaurant she had. Annette had been a school friend of his Father’s. She’d opened up a small bar and restaurant in town back in the 60’s. They usually had local talent playing on a stage in the corner on weekends and Javier had many memories as a child of being taken there as a kid.

“That place still open?” Javier frowned slightly as he looked back at his Father to find he had stepped away to potter in the open plan kitchen on the far side of the house, getting himself a scrap of paper and pen to note down the order ready to call.

“Yeah,” Chucho sighed as he made his way back over to Javi, a slightly pained expression on his face that he attempted to hide. His father’s health had been yet another reason why Javier had come home. He knew his Father was stubborn. They’d spoken multiple times over the years about either hiring some help or his Father selling up and retiring properly; but the ranch had been his parent’s dream and he knew his father would never give it up before he completely ran himself into the ground first. “You know,” Chucho added, “they did it up last year, looks really nice. Annette’s aunt died and left her some money, so they spent it on doing the place up. Looks real modern and nice. They redid the stage and everything.”

“Nice.” Javier nodded nonchalantly as he turned his head back towards the TV and the evening news. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t seem to step out of his old life completely. And every time he saw the boats on the river at the back of his Father’s property, it only made things worse.

“I’m gonna order the ribs.” Chucho said to himself proudly, as if he was getting himself a real treat, as he flicked through a leaflet in his hands. Annette’s place was more of a cafe by day, bar and restaurant by evening; and although she had long stopped doing take out food in the evening, she always made an exception for Chucho. “What about you, Javi?”

“Huh?” Javier said, struggling to pull himself away from the TV, “Ribs? Yeah, sounds good.”

“Eh, son,” Chucho sighed, looking from Javier to the TV, “you should really stop watching that crap. Your life is here now-”

“I know, but-”

“But- nothing.” Chucho said, reaching for the remote and turning the TV off. “Aye, Javi,” he sighed again, feeling pity for his son. He knew things hadn’t been easy for him over the years; losing his mother, the accident, his life fighting that mad man Escobar- he just wished his son still believed that he could have peace and a happy life- like he did- but Chucho knew better. He knew how much his wife’s death had affected the way he had raised his son alone. His own demons bleeding through, teaching Javi to hold on, instead of letting go.

“Why don’t you go into town to pick it up.” Chucho suggested, “See how different things are there for yourself. You’ll soon see things aren’t the same as they once was.”

Javier was reluctant, but in the end agreed. After all, he had chosen to come back and live here for good now. He couldn’t just hide away anymore.

▙▚▜▞▙■▞▟ ▚▜▞▙■▞▟ ▚▜▞▙■▞▟

The last time Javier had gone into town, it had still looked like it had in his youth. Paint chipped murals on the side of buildings. Flaking paint around the edges of shop windows. Certain shops, long boarded up, others more recently shut for good. But a recent benefactor had invested a lot of money into doing the place up. New trendy shops and cafes lined the street, scattered amongst the old familiar traders such as the butcher’s and the fishmongers- there was even an arcade now for the local kids. As Javier pulled into a spot at the side of the road, just a little ways up from Annette’s, he couldn’t help but let his eyes linger on a particular hair salon across the road.

The last time he had seen it, it had still been boarded up, remnants of the smashed headlights and brick, still scattered amongst the broken glass of the shop window from where the car had spun out of control and driven straight into it.

The memory burned through him, the sound of the car horn from how her body had slumped against the steering wheel, suddenly echoed in the back of his mind. He closed his eyes and forced the memory to go away, attempting to replace it with the memories of more recent horrors. ‘It’ll get better he told himself’, as he composed himself once more, shaking off all of the memories and climbing from the cab of his truck. He can still feel the memory haunting and calling for him to look back, but the sounds of the crowd and music down the road at Annette’s called louder- along with a need for Annette’s famous ribs in Jack Daniel’s BBQ sauce.

As he steps closer, he sees what his Father meant. Annette really has done the place up. The old windows now fold open, people spilling out onto tables under a veranda on the street. Quirky halogen bulb string lights go back and forth in lines, both inside and outside. All of the old tables and chairs have been replaced, making way for new freshly sanded pine tables and benches with metal legs and where the old stage used to be a small thing tucked in the corner, it now spans most of the right wall inside. The bar itself didn't look too much different, the stools were the same old beer bottle top inspired seats, but all the taps looked new, including a couple extras for some local craft beers.

The place was heaving, people chatting loudly over background music from the jukebox whilst a few members of a band began setting themselves up on stage. Javier checked his watch- five minutes to seven- the live music on the weekends always started at seven, nice to know some things hadn’t changed.

“Hi, can I help.” A cheerful young voice said from behind the bar, drawing Javier’s attention away from the stage and back to the task at hand.

“Uh, yeah,” he said to the blonde who couldn’t be that much older than 21 herself, “I’m picking up an order for Chucho.” he shouted back across to her.

“Oh you must be Javi,” she smiled, “Annette said you’d be stopping by, she said you’d just gotten back from Columbia.”

“Uh, yeah.” Javier gave her a polite but small smile that told her he didn’t really want to talk about it.

She hesitated a second, not sure how to respond, “Uh, I’ll just go back and check on the food for you.” she quickly said uncomfortably, as she began to make her way out through a door on the far right side of the bar.

Javier rubbed at his face and sighed. He felt bad for making her uncomfortable, she was only doing her job, but he had always found small talk arbitrary.

A sudden tap, tap, tapping on a microphone burst through the speakers and Javier found himself turning, along with the rest of the patrons of Annette’s, towards the stage where a guy- not too younger than Javier- now stood center stage, ready to announce the band.

“How we all doing tonight?” the man cried and the crowd, scattered around the bar, began to hoot and holler and whistle. “I’m glad to hear it!!!” he replied and the crowd began to settle a little. “Now, although we all know you love coming out for Annette’s signature sauce, we know you come out on a Friday for these guys even more!” He said, and the crowd began to holler again, as a young brunette climbed up onto the stage behind him, nodding and smiling to her bandmates, as the guy from Annette’s continued to introduce them. “So without further ado, their your favorites and ours, give it up, for BlueBirds on a Wireeeeee!!”

The lights went down and a couple of spotlights switched on, illuminating the stage and when the young woman who fronted the group stepped forward, Javier was sure he was looking at a ghost. “Good evening everyone, we’re so happy to be back here at Annette’s to entertain ya’ll this evening,” she beamed and the crowd roared as the band began to play the intro to a Dolly Parton country classic, “ To get everybody going we thought we’d start with a good ol’ country sing-a-long!” she continued to encourage the crowd. “Are you ready?!” The crowd cheered back- before they all began to sing Jolene.

Javier couldn’t take his eyes off of her. She looked and sounded just like- the sound of the door behind the bar swinging open and closed behind him, broke Javier from his thoughts. “Here you go. Two portions of ribs with extra chips and onion rings.” the young blond said, placing a white plastic bag on top of the bar.

Caught off guard, Javier quickly scrambled around in the pocket of his jeans for his wallet. “Uh, how much is it?” he asked loudly over the band and the singing crowd.

“Don’t worry about it.” the blond said back, “Annette says she owes Chucho anyway.”

“Oh, okay.” Javier said, reaching to grab the handles of the carrier bag, as the singing of the crowd grew louder.

‘Jolene, Jolene, JOLENE, JOLEEENNEE, I’M BEGGING OF YOU PLEASE DON’T TAKE MY MAN!”

“Wow,” Javi said, looking from the crowd, back to the young woman behind the counter, “is it always like this?”

She smiles, “When the Bluebird’s play? Yes!” she shouted back over the noise, before she went back to wiping the bar top and unloading glasses from the washer.

Javier knew he should leave, get the food back home to his Dad before it went cold, but he couldn’t seem to pull himself away. Whether it was the comradery of the crowd, a sense of family and belonging he hadn’t felt in a long time, or the memory that currently stood before him on the stage he wasn’t sure.

When the song ended, the crowd erupted into applause, causing the brunette on stage to take a small bow, before she gave a small wave to a couple regulars who sat near the front of the stage.

When the crowd finally died down, she brought the microphone back up to her lips. “Now, as you all know, it’s been 20 years now since I lost my older sister, not a day goes by that I don’t think about her. So, if it’s alright with you, for our next song, I’d like to sing an original piece we’ve written in her memory called ‘Summer’, is that alright with you?” she cried into the crowd and they all clapped and whistled in support.

Smiling, if not a little teary eyed from the support, the young brunette stepped back from the microphone to where the guitarist of the band held out an acoustic guitar for her, that she slipped over her head. She gave him a small smile and a nod before she stepped back up to the microphone stand again and the crowd gave another cheer of support. She cleared her throat, strummed a G chord once, as if to ready herself, then she began to play.

The summer breeze, reminds me of how things used to be,

Holding hands and climbing trees, mhmmm,

You showed me how and helped me get back on my feet,

When I would fall and scrape my knees, mhmm,

Drinking grape sodas we would laugh in the back of the car,

The windows down we would sing, though we never went far, oh’

As the chorus kicked in, so did the rest of the band.

In the stars I will see you on those summer nights,

Running through the park chasing neon lights,

Laughing in the dark and those weekend fights,

Being with you all day and all night

Kissing in the dark like I couldn’t see

Showing how to love and setting me free

Summer you’ll be standing right next to me

Forever, forever for the world to see.

As the brunette sang, her lyrics triggered memory after memory- until it all fell into place. Him, Summer and her younger sister Taylor, running around in the park chasing fireflies. Summer’s favorite drink he used to buy for her before he went to pick her up. Sneaking kisses when she thought her younger sister wasn’t looking. Her late night calls after she had put her younger sister to bed so she could talk about her parent’s arguing. That’s why he had felt like he’d seen a ghost when she had stepped on stage. Taylor had grown into the spitting image of her sister, singing songs and keeping her memory alive for many more years to come.

[hollowknightinsanity]

guess what time it is

That’s right baby it’s self insert time. Amaryllis BLAST!!!!!

RHATS GODS FLUFFIEST SOLDIER!!!!!!!!!!

Pretty boy,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, yeah this is Amy’s ref sheet finally done n dusted!!!! I’m proud of this one :)) he

My bastard’s info under the cut, as per usual

Full name: Amaryllis Vigus

Aliases: Amy

Species: Rocky Mountain Emperor Moth / Godfly hybrid

Planet of Origination: Earth

Age: 80

Height: 7’3”

Gender: Biologically male; identifies as trans-androgynous

Pronouns: He/Him/His — It/Its/Itself (FRIENDS/FAMILY ONLY)

Sexuality: No specific label; refers to himself as gay, polyamorous

S/O: Holly Bloom Eburne-Leaflet (girlfriend), Galetris ‘Gal’ Akrai (queerplatonic partner)

Family: Unnamed parents, unnamed brother, Sombre Vigus-Eburne (child), ~5 million in-laws (thanks, Chrysanthus & Viol)

Wandering Moth-Butterfly hybrid, hailing from the kingdoms of Bugaria. Works as a freelance artist.

In a romantic relationship with Holly, Hallownest’s Princeling, and a queerplatonic relationship with his close friend Galetris. Has one child with Holly, who was named Sombre.

Left its home kingdom after its best friend’s death, living the rest of its life onwards as a traveler, up until permanently moving into Dirtmouth with its girlfriend.

Outgoing and excitable. Spends most of his free time drawing, writing, or singing. Originally worked on a scouting team with two of its old friends for the Queen of its home kingdom, but after one of said friends died on a scouting mission, it quit scouting and left to travel the world, saying home didn’t feel like home without its friend there.

Was born and raised in the Ant Kingdom in Bugaria, having lived there up until his early twenties. After leaving, it never really stayed put, moving from place to place. Notable places he’s visited include the kingdom of Aurora, a lush mountainside kingdom mainly inhabited by Godflies, a strange land covered in odd flowers, and Hallownest, where he currently lives with his girlfriend and their newborn child.

Doesn’t fight often at all, but when needed for self-defence, it has a set of darts and throwing knives on hand, as well as its natural Fire magic, inherited from its Godfly mother.

Hex codes

Both:

#1D2128 — Fur 1

#363A42 — Neck fluff

#403C48 — Inner ears

#89858B — Scars

#9B6B4B — Fur 2

#FCE096 — Antennae

#1F296D — Iris

#E2E4F4 — Sclera

Regular outfit:

#171717 — Belt

#1F1929 — Shirt 1

#7C44DA — Shirt 4

#AC92D7 — Shirt 3

#C4BBD3 — Shirt 2

#616D7B — Pants

#FFC8A2 — Chains / Belt buckle

Alt outfit:

#131827 — Pants

#392115 — Belt thing (idk what it is)

#3F262F — Sweater

#C4C6CD — Chain

Wings:

#242631 — Wing base (front)

#35363E — Wing accent (front

#F4E2CB — Wing highlight (front & back)

#545956 — Wing base (back)

#86848D — Wing fade (back)

#050505 — Wings eye pattern 1

#FCE096 — Wings eye pattern 2

#F7F4F0 — Wings eye pattern 3

[mywifeleftme]

364: Various Artists // Israfel

Israfel Various Artists 1997, Ape

A 1997 vinyl benefit compilation of mostly Middle American grindcore / powerviolence / emo acts, assembled in an edition of about 1000 by Bloomington-based DIY label Ape Records (active 1995 to 2002), in handmade sleeve with a recent release catalogue, a substantial zine, and a few priceless gag inserts (incl. YOUR HARDCORE SELL OUT DECODER RING). I’m not an aficionado of any of the genres Israfel covers by any means, but you’d have to be a real head to know most of these: in terms of notoriety, the Locust (who contribute a 47 second blast of lo-fi outrage) are basically Led Zeppelin compared to the rest of the acts, most of whom topped out with a couple of EPs and compilation appearances.

Of course, hearing music that would otherwise be basically lost to time is the appeal of taking a flyer on a comp like this. One of my favourite tracks is “Untitled” by Roanoke, VA’s the Weak Link Breaks, supposedly the first thing the band ever wrote (and, judging from their discography, nearly the last too). It begins with a very, very quiet spacy-Fugazi-style amble (the vocal harmonies couldn’t be more Ian and Guy) that explodes into a brief screamo-style D-beat section, and then some big heaving riffs that make me want to exaggeratedly lift and stomp my feet like a giant trying to keep his balance. I also dig Murfreesboro, TN’s Serotonin, an emo / post-hardcore act with a steely '80s shred band guitar tone who play like they want people in the pit to twirl around ecstatically instead of slam dancing. A lot of the other nasty yowling cat speedballs on Israfel don’t really catch my ear, but that’s okay—I’m weirdly proud of them 27 years after the fact for being themselves and getting out whatever they needed to get out through this violence.

The package’s tone is all over the place. The zine opens with a haunting description of the compilation’s beneficiaries, the family of a pair of little girls with spinal muscular atrophy (a common birth defect) whose condition worsened until they perished, leaving their parents distraught and financially ruined—and the 21-year-old compiler racked with guilt that he didn’t somehow do more to help. From there, it whips through his heterodox thoughts about the hardcore scene (despicably self-absorbed; unresponsive to requests from label operators); the state of emo (too abstract); the best way to bring about change (working within the capitalist system); rape (it’s bad; consent is black and white; can we stop litigating this in the scene?); calling the cops (fine to do); disrespecting the American flag (played out; tacky); and drinking/drug use (“when did self-destruction become rebellion?”). After he finishes up, each band (that got their artwork in on time anyway) gets a page to talk about themselves. This section is full of old school punk zine/leaflet treasures, with designs that mimic motel newspaper ads, postcards, messy handwritten perzines, and Xeroxed 7” grindcore sleeves.

It's funny reading his scornful words about pseudo-rebellious drunkards stumbling toward “the day when punk rock is shelved for an 8 hour workday, Budweiser, and television” and then finding his LinkedIn, where he describes himself as “driving omnichannel excellence” and as “whimsical (after coffee).” You wouldn’t believe it from the splenetic angst of the Israfel zine, but the guy seems like he turned out happy and normal, with a few kids and a successful career. I wonder how the 21-year-old would see the 48-year-old, if he’d call him a sell-out or feel relieved that things worked out; if the 48-year-old would pity his former self, or feel ashamed about losing his edge. More one-time zinesters and hardcore kids end up looking square from a distance than you’d think (I certainly do if you catch me during the workday), because you usually stop hearing about them when they drop out of the scene. For most, the quiet part of life is the larger portion by far. It’s your choice whether to embrace that, mourn it, or seek your own alternative. But if Israfel reminds us of nothing else, it’s the importance of having a good scream at least once in your life.

364/365

[myvinylplaylist]

Artists United Against Apartheid: Sun City (1985)

This version contains bonus track “Silver & Gold,” which is not mentioned on the outer or inner sleeve but is listed on the side 2 label. There is another version that does have the extra track listed on the rear sleeve.

Sticker on the shrinkwrap on back cover reads: ADDED BONUS SONG: SILVER AND GOLD By BONO, KEITH RICHARDS AND RON WOOD ST-53019

Promotional only copies may contain a press kit for reviewers and news outlets to promote this album. Various items included in kits may be two single-sheet inserts, one Sun City info / fact sheet and one United Nations Special Committee, a 5-page leaflet quotes from artists (30 quotations), and an 8x10 photo of producers Arthur Baker and Little Steven. Not all kits contain the same items.

First selection number labels, second spine, inner sleeve and above mentioned Sun City info / fact sheet.

Manhattan Records

[throwaway-yandere]

To whoever may read this letter,

I hope you are having a good Irodori Festival! I know I am. Learning about the different Kasen has been a very fun so far, and I hope to learn even more!

Ah, but these last couple of days have been pretty rough. The current season has a nasty cough going around which I seem to have caught. My nose is also constantly running, which means I have a pack of tissues with me at all times.

Hopefully, you stay safe and healthy during this festival! Maybe if I figure out who you are we can meet up! (When I'm not sick, anyways...)

-Honey on a Stick 🐝

cw: none, no yandere whatsoever, but the letter is so phcking irredeemable for plot reasons hAHHAHAHAH- (and also, this brainrot is the reason why I thought of this event lmao. wanted to write something with this premise after playing the recent windblume festival.) congrats, Honey, you're the first one who received a non-yokai letter. but at what cost, really?

From this yandere genshin secret pen pal event

✥ YOU GOT A LETTER FROM YOUR SECRET PEN PAL!!!

"What on earth is this letter? Is this even a letter? Why did you use nearly half of the stickers you bought from the Irodori booths? Just what is this?! Why is there a crumpled dead leaf here with a wet stamp? Hold on. Did you just stamp a dead leaf and taped it?!? You BIG LUMMOX.”

“This, my friend, is how professionals press leaves on a parchment.”

Tighnari’s ears dropped, horrified. 

“Cyno, is this how little you think of us forest rangers? You are ruining the reputation of my subordinates— why did you even insert a dead leaf here? No, wait, genuine question: what are you hoping to achieve? Is this for aesthetic purposes or are you trying to inflict your pen pal with The Withering?”

“Relax, my dear ranger, Blue Eyes White Dragon—”

“Stop calling me that!”

“Big Ears here knows what he’s doing.”

“Well, I sure hope Big Ears knows he’s doing a terrible job 'cause this letter looks like it belongs in the biodegradable trashbin,” Tighnari groaned. “You’re supposed to press flowers, not damn weeds.”

“… Oh, that didn’t occur to me.”

“Seriously?!”

After visiting Mondstadt together, Big Ears' "subordinates", which include "Blue Eyes White Dragon, the TCG master," and "Fructose, the amateur alchemist," have chosen to travel to Inazuma after listening to Tighnari's advice. As expected, they were rather out of place during the festivities. They were unaware that they would be attending another festival shortly after Sumeru's events, but fortunately, Thoma was keen to make them feel at home. The "Fixer" claimed that he experiences homesickness as well and said, "why not join the Pen Pal or Yokai event to be distracted for at least a little while?”

Unfortunately, Cyno is more than dedicated to his new and self-proclaimed title.

“I’m going to MURDER you.”

“Hmm.”

“Don’t you laugh at me, Cyno!”

“Who is Cyno? My real name is Nyco, the Best Sumeru Forest Ranger—”

“Oh, shut up already!” Tighnari groaned, pinching his forehead. "Give me that damn letter—”

"Language."

"Collei is with Sayu—"

"You mean Fructose is with Sayu."

"Cyno."

Cyno cleared his throat.

"Fine. Inspect my letter to your heart's content."

Tighnari snatched the literal (and brittle) leaflet from Cyno's hand. He examined the contents, his gaze filled with scrutiny. 

"Oh, your poor pen pal... Already sick and this letter is about to make them feel worse."

"Big Ears is plenty charismatic, isn't he?"

"No, he isn't."

"My jokes there are my best ones."

"Your best joke is my worst joke, and you're proud of that?"

"Honey will like it."

"If they did, I'm taking Collei and leaving you here in Inazuma."

"Understood. Come back once I have pollen in love with Honey. I'll invite you to our wedding," Cyno joked. An untrained ear would've missed the teasing lilt of his voice, and Tighnari had more than enough experience to know when his friend is in a light mood.

Tighnari did not sigh nor groan. He had come to terms that his best friend is hopeless. Instead, he handed Cyno back his letter, visibly disgusted.

"Take this back. I'm gonna go ahead and write a eulogy for my deceased Mahamatra friend. Be right back."

"You mean Bee right back?"

"OH MY— ENOUGH, BIG EARS— I MEAN, CYNO!!!"

Cyno chuckled softly to himself as Tighnaru stomped away, ears up in the air as though he can't bottle up his frustrations anymore. 

As Tighnari left, Cyno looked at the letter he received again, smiling.

"Honey, we'll be home soon. We haven't met yet but welcome to the family. I have a hunch that Fructose is going to adore you..."

"..."

"No, Collei is going to love you."

[aintgonnatakethis]

Gynaecology visit was nowhere near as bad as I thought it was gonna be! I'd seen some horror stories from transmascs on here on being misgendered and ridiculed and even kicked out of the clinic, but everything was really... chill.

GOOD

1. Nurse at the front desk who I asked for directions was polite, as were the nurses in the clinic itself. No sideways looks or bad vibes.

2. Waiting room had a printed sign 'Gynaecology and physio waiting room' even though I know physio is on a different floor. But it would give me an "excuse" if I were challenged and it looked like the team had done it themselves.

3. Doctor was polite, explained things clearly - used the medically correct terms for the organs he was going to remove but there's not a lot you can really do about that. Accepted that this was what I wanted and I didn't want to freeze any eggs without any attempt to 'change my mind'.

4. Apologised that the leaflet on the procedure he was giving me wasn't inclusive, and explained that he's trying to get a gender neutral version printed but he's the only doctor in the county (about the size of Delaware with a population of >800k) who does gender affirming hysterectomies. Bodily autonomy what?

5. The internal scan (which was the part I'd been dreading and had fisted 15mg of Valium before the appointment for) didn't hurt, they checked in with me before inserting, and it was over quickly. Slight discomfort at the final angle he needed but honestly it hurt more when they pricked my finger to test my blood sugar.

6. I asked him "Everything where it's supposed to be?" with a joking inflection and he replied "yes" and then his eyes lit up and he said with a lot of Dad energy, "but not for long!"

BAD

1. Gender clinic hasn't told him he can go ahead yet (bodily autonomy WHAT) so he's gonna have to contact them which will slow things down knowing how slow they are at doing things.

2. Doctor had a bad cough, which even the chaperone nurse commented on (out of his hearing range). No one was wearing masks.

3. Doctor asked me if I was planning on getting bottom surgery. When I said no he said, "Smart choice. Long process and there're a lot of complications involved." I agreed with him because I've seen personally how medical "professionals" can turn on a dime if you question them, and technically what he said wasn't incorrect: it is a long process that requires multiple surgeries and the more surgeries the higher chance of complications just because of RNG. But... it's not the whole story, is it? Doctors shouldn't be giving their patients incomplete information. People trust their doctors. And yet the majority of trans information I possess has come from other trans people: the proper way to care for my top surgery scars when the surgeon told me at my post-op "if any stitches are still there in a week you can just pull them out" and "nah you can stretch your arms above your head, it won't stretch the scars", or the fact he completely missed my post-surgical muscle splinting and I had to go ask a popular trans blog on here why everything was spasming and he instantly diagnosed the problem and told me what drugs to ask for.

I kind of got off track here, but I am so grateful to the trans community for information sharing and so angry that the medical system provides no support. Phalloplasty saves lives! 🏳️‍⚧️🙌

[holy-ghost-fire]

Original caption: "A Japanese soldier of the 7th Army, Battery A, 522nd FA, 442nd Combat Team in France, fits base plate to a 105 mm. shell after propaganda pamphlets have been inserted. A small charge of powder in the projectile blows off base plate over enemy territory, allowing leaflets to drift to ground troops below."

[seasons-beatings]

Happy holidays, @whump-space!

From your gifter: There's rather a lot of images! Leaflet and insert, plus mock-ups of both.

[pigeonwhumps]

In Memoriam

Sanctuary masterlist

Whumpcember day 8: faked death

And

AMOW day 3: getting a letter in the mail

Taglist: @littlespacecastle @whumpymirages @flowersarefreetherapy @whumpcember @amonthofwhump

Finn calls his sister after she gets a leaflet through her door.

695 words + art

CWs: presumed dead, mentioned kidnapping, whumper pov, non-con, creepy whumper

Finn scowls at the picture of a flyer his sister's sent him. In memory of Samantha Young. Well, that's one way of ruining his appetite. He presses call.

"Do you like the photo?"

"What the fuck, Ashley?"

"It's your little Romantic. Isn't she cute?"

"I know what it is. I want to know why you sent it to me. And how the hell you have it."

"A rather upset young man put it through my letterbox. Apparently it would've been her thirtieth birthday on the 27th of July. I thought you could add it to your scrapbook of her."

"I have far better photos now. You remember the Christmas ones."

"Oh I do." She pauses, clearly thinking about it. "You know, I'd quite like that young man as a pet. Any chance you could..."

"No, Ashley. You know I don't go for men. Anyway, they wouldn't let you buy a pet who used to live in your city, you know that. Not unless it's a special order, with lots of money."

"Spoilsport. I bet he's related to your Romantic. Oh! Or he might be a boyfriend." She sniggers. "Imagine that little Romantic having a boyfriend."

He sighs impatiently. "Ashley. The girl on that flyer, Samantha whatever, is dead. Dead. She has been for over nine years. The Romantic I'm training now might look like her, but she's not. She's a pet. She doesn't have any friends or family, certainly not a boyfriend, and she's going to her new owner next week. She doesn't even have a brain anymore, her head's just full of obedience and ways to fuck well. Are we clear?"

"So that's why you're so grumpy. You're losing your favourite acquisition."

"Ash..."

"Fine, fine. I wasn't calling her a person."

"I know that. But better safe than sorry." He doesn't want anything to happen to his sister, after all.

"Hmm. Who's your Romantic's new owner?"

"A young Sri Lankan girl. The one who owns 065."

"Ohhh that's gotta be fun. Owning a bonded pair when one's forgotten the other. She must be some kinda sadist."

"What I don't get is why you'd give your Romantic another pet to possibly bond with. I mean, you'd think she'd want 643 entirely focused on her. I certainly would if I was her owner."

"I imagine there's plenty of fun to be had with multiple pets."

"Mm." There is, to be sure, but it's usually not as good as a pet's sole focus being you. "Anyway, I need to actually eat before I go to 643."

"Yeah, right. Enjoy."

"Oh, I will."

He cuts off and peels back the foil covering his limp ham sandwich. It looks... distinctly unappealing. He's not even hungry, really, not for this.

He knows what would be appealing though.

Finn shoves the sandwich back in his bag and jumps to his feet, a smile already spreading. Oh, he knows exactly what he's hungry for.

He strides down the corridors until he reaches 643's room and holds his keycard against the lock.

643 is kneeling beside the bed, wrists crossed behind her back, and she looks up at him demurely through her lashes as he enters. He hasn't seen her today, too busy with paperwork, and blood rushes to his cock at the sight.

"Good to see you can hold a position, 643. As you know, it's final checks this week. I need to ensure you're ready for your prospective owner. Position 22."

643 sits on her heels and tilts her head up, opening her mouth.

Finn nods approvingly. Technically this isn't a position she's likely to need with a female owner, but... maybe this Miss Anita Ranjit has a boyfriend. Or maybe she'll like to watch her pets fuck. Finn's job is to prepare 643 for anything her owner might give her, and that certainly includes a cock.

Finn unzips himself and inserts his cock into 643's gaping mouth. She's like a little bird, so eager for something to fill her up.

"Go on, suck it. Show me what a good girl you are."

643 starts working on him, and oh yes. This is a much better lunch than his ham sandwich.