Product Placement
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Mike Driver
Jimmy Eat World
Show & Tell
sheepfilms
hello vonnie
Cosimo Galluzzi
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
Sweet Seals For You, Always
h
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Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
NASA
if i look back, i am lost
YOU ARE THE REASON
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
𓃗
ojovivo
seen from El Salvador
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@supermassivebabytwilight
Rule says women must wear heels. No flats.
Kristen Stewart takes off her heels in front of all the cameras and walks barefoot.
The only way to kill sexist rules is to openly disobey them.
kristen stewart has the biggest “fuck men” energy i’ve ever seen like she could just be breathing and you could tell she’s disappointed by men
Ah the free market at work. (Similar to when I went to CVS to pickup a 90$ prescription and they had their own generic version for 7.99).
This is important! Tell your Friends.
I can’t believe some insurances quit covering them 😐
From Slate:
The generic Adrenaclick will cost $109.99 for two doses, compared with $649.99 for the same amount of drug in an EpiPen. That’s good news, both for financial and safety reasons: STAT reported last year that some parents and institutions had begun filling up syringes with epinephrine as a cost-cutting measure, a DIY solution that could pose great risk to the children who may have eventually needed injections. A more affordable alternative will help ensure safer epinephrine injections.
That’s assuming, though, that the people who need these devices know exactly what to ask for when they’re sitting in their doctors’ offices. Otherwise, they’ll still be stuck with the overpriced product. Here’s why: The mechanism by which Adrenaclick injects the drug is slightly different from EpiPen’s mechanism, so the Food and Drug Administration has ruled that the two are not therapeutically equivalent. That distinction is important because it means a prescription for an EpiPen cannot be filled with Adrenaclick. If you want the cheaper option, you have to have an Adrenaclick prescription.
You must ask your doctor for an Adrenaclick prescription!
I also found a coupon from Impax on 0.15mg and 0.3mg epinephrine injection, USP auto-injectors, which appear to be the generic version of Adrenaclick; these coupons cover up to $100 per pack for 3 packs of these injectors (6 total injectors).
Some customers may be automatically eligible for $100 off the retail price thus only paying $10 for a pack, but this may be good backup for those who for whatever reason do not meet those requirements.
Pass this information on, potentially save a life.
@thebibliosphere are you aware of this already?
Yep! But it’s always good info to boost!
Also, just while I’ve got you all here, there were two major recalls on EPI pen alternatives this year in 2020. One in the UK and in the US (I knew about them because I’m a UK citizen living in the US and have prescriptions for both.)
For the UK any patients issued the Emerade 150 microgram auto-injector pen need to return all their current pens and have them changed for another brand due to a fault in the delivery mechanism system that potentially prevents the administration of life saving doses of epinephrine. If you use Emerade instead of an EPI pen, contact your doctor or pharmacist as soon as possible. Recall is dated as recent as March 4th 2020
ID: an image of an Emerade 150 microgram auto-injector.
In the US there have been recent recalls for the Amneal/Impax 0.3mg Epinephrine Auto-Injectors. There is a vital safety component missing, which may mean people get a double dose of epinephrine and suffer severe side effects. This recall is dated active as on June 1st 2020. If you use Anmeal/Impax, you need to check your pen for this fault.
ID: an image of two yellow boxes bearing the bran names ‘Impax’ and ‘Amneal’ with their brand of epinephrine auto-injectors, one is blue, the other is in its yellow safety case.
If you are confused by the instructions listed on the FDA/Drugs website, Snack Safely.com has a great visual tutorial on how take your pen safely out the case and check it to make sure the yellow safety tab is in place.
Reblog to literally save lives, please!
white twilight stans will understand that aro beheading carlisle in bd was an abuse of power and this action was traumatizing to those who bore witness and will understand that in that moment of carlisle’s death the only thing those who witnessed this atrocity could do is retaliate against their oppressors but then not understand why real people protest when real cops murder real Black people in the streets and in their homes without consequence
I love the biggining of midnight sun because the other Cullens are all Edward do not kill that girl meanwhile Emmett pretty much goes
i find it incredible how edward knows himself so well and still keeps up the clownery
why does edward act like vampires and humans are total opposites mentally?? he’s always like “humans are so preoccupied with emotions and trying to fit in with others, it’s so pathetic.” like sir... you are the most emo person ever. you continually repeat high school to feel normal. you WERE a human at one point. don’t act like vampires somehow don’t have feelings or think about social situations
she's not like other girls. she has no thoughts
bella:
edward:
This precious nugget gets to tell his story tomorrow! I am so ready to finally see more of the Cullens and see his side. I want to see his POV of the airport and asking where Bella is. I just want to see his thoughts on his love for her. 😭 I just can’t wait to finally read this book.
I can’t even count how many times I’ve thought this lately
The strong urge to end it all, the violent temptation to destroy my body, the unending desire to never have existed, the helpless desperation to not be alive. I don’t know how much longer can I live each day feeling all this.
me: *weighs myself*
me: not to be dramatic, but I want to jump off a building
Temples are built for gods. Knowing this a farmer builds a small temple to see what kind of god turns up.
Arepo built a temple in his field, a humble thing, some stones stacked up to make a cairn, and two days later a god moved in.
“Hope you’re a harvest god,” Arepo said, and set up an altar and burnt two stalks of wheat. “It’d be nice, you know.” He looked down at the ash smeared on the stone, the rocks all laid askew, and coughed and scratched his head. “I know it’s not much,” he said, his straw hat in his hands. “But - I’ll do what I can. It’d be nice to think there’s a god looking after me.”
The next day he left a pair of figs, the day after that he spent ten minutes of his morning seated by the temple in prayer. On the third day, the god spoke up.
“You should go to a temple in the city,” the god said. Its voice was like the rustling of the wheat, like the squeaks of fieldmice running through the grass. “A real temple. A good one. Get some real gods to bless you. I’m no one much myself, but I might be able to put in a good word?” It plucked a leaf from a tree and sighed. “I mean, not to be rude. I like this temple. It’s cozy enough. The worship’s been nice. But you can’t honestly believe that any of this is going to bring you anything.”
“This is more than I was expecting when I built it,” Arepo said, laying down his scythe and lowering himself to the ground. “Tell me, what sort of god are you anyway?”
“I’m of the fallen leaves,” it said. “The worms that churn beneath the earth. The boundary of forest and of field. The first hint of frost before the first snow falls. The skin of an apple as it yields beneath your teeth. I’m a god of a dozen different nothings, scraps that lead to rot, momentary glimpses. A change in the air, and then it’s gone.”
The god heaved another sigh. “There’s no point in worship in that, not like War, or the Harvest, or the Storm. Save your prayers for the things beyond your control, good farmer. You’re so tiny in the world. So vulnerable. Best to pray to a greater thing than me.”
Arepo plucked a stalk of wheat and flattened it between his teeth. “I like this sort of worship fine,” he said. “So if you don’t mind, I think I’ll continue.”
“Do what you will,” said the god, and withdrew deeper into the stones. “But don’t say I never warned you otherwise.”
Arepo would say a prayer before the morning’s work, and he and the god contemplated the trees in silence. Days passed like that, and weeks, and then the Storm rolled in, black and bold and blustering. It flooded Arepo’s fields, shook the tiles from his roof, smote his olive tree and set it to cinder. The next day, Arepo and his sons walked among the wheat, salvaging what they could. The little temple had been strewn across the field, and so when the work was done for the day, Arepo gathered the stones and pieced them back together.
“Useless work,” the god whispered, but came creeping back inside the temple regardless. “There wasn’t a thing I could do to spare you this.”
“We’ll be fine,” Arepo said. “The storm’s blown over. We’ll rebuild. Don’t have much of an offering for today,” he said, and laid down some ruined wheat, “but I think I’ll shore up this thing’s foundations tomorrow, how about that?”
The god rattled around in the temple and sighed.
A year passed, and then another. The temple had layered walls of stones, a roof of woven twigs. Arepo’s neighbors chuckled as they passed it. Some of their children left fruit and flowers. And then the Harvest failed, the gods withdrew their bounty. In Arepo’s field the wheat sprouted thin and brittle. People wailed and tore their robes, slaughtered lambs and spilled their blood, looked upon the ground with haunted eyes and went to bed hungry. Arepo came and sat by the temple, the flowers wilted now, the fruit shriveled nubs, Arepo’s ribs showing through his chest, his hands still shaking, and murmured out a prayer.
“There is nothing here for you,” said the god, hudding in the dark. “There is nothing I can do. There is nothing to be done.” It shivered, and spat out its words. “What is this temple but another burden to you?”
“We -” Arepo said, and his voice wavered. “So it’s a lean year,” he said. “We’ve gone through this before, we’ll get through this again. So we’re hungry,” he said. “We’ve still got each other, don’t we? And a lot of people prayed to other gods, but it didn’t protect them from this. No,” he said, and shook his head, and laid down some shriveled weeds on the altar. “No, I think I like our arrangement fine.”
“There will come worse,” said the god, from the hollows of the stone. “And there will be nothing I can do to save you.”
The years passed. Arepo rested a wrinkled hand upon the temple of stone and some days spent an hour there, lost in contemplation with the god.
And one fateful day, from across the wine-dark seas, came War.
Arepo came stumbling to his temple now, his hand pressed against his gut, anointing the holy site with his blood. Behind him, his wheat fields burned, and the bones burned black in them. He came crawling on his knees to a temple of hewed stone, and the god rushed out to meet him.
“I could not save them,” said the god, its voice a low wail. “I am sorry. I am sorry. I am so so sorry.” The leaves fell burning from the trees, a soft slow rain of ash. “I have done nothing! All these years, and I have done nothing for you!”
“Shush,” Arepo said, tasting his own blood, his vision blurring. He propped himself up against the temple, forehead pressed against the stone in prayer. “Tell me,” he mumbled. “Tell me again. What sort of god are you?”
“I -” said the god, and reached out, cradling Arepo’s head, and closed its eyes and spoke.
“I’m of the fallen leaves,” it said, and conjured up the image of them. “The worms that churn beneath the earth. The boundary of forest and of field. The first hint of frost before the first snow falls. The skin of an apple as it yields beneath your teeth.” Arepo’s lips parted in a smile.
“I am the god of a dozen different nothings,” it said. “The petals in bloom that lead to rot, the momentary glimpses. A change in the air -” Its voice broke, and it wept. “Before it’s gone.”
“Beautiful,” Arepo said, his blood staining the stones, seeping into the earth. “All of them. They were all so beautiful.”
And as the fields burned and the smoke blotted out the sun, as men were trodden in the press and bloody War raged on, as the heavens let loose their wrath upon the earth, Arepo the sower lay down in his humble temple, his head sheltered by the stones, and returned home to his god.
Sora found the temple with the bones within it, the roof falling in upon them.
“Oh, poor god,” she said, “With no-one to bury your last priest.” Then she paused, because she was from far away. “Or is this how the dead are honored here?” The god roused from its contemplation.
“His name was Arepo,” it said, “He was a sower.”
Sora startled, a little, because she had never before heard the voice of a god. “How can I honor him?” She asked.
“Bury him,” the god said, “Beneath my altar.”
“All right,” Sora said, and went to fetch her shovel.
“Wait,” the god said when she got back and began collecting the bones from among the broken twigs and fallen leaves. She laid them out on a roll of undyed wool, the only cloth she had. “Wait,” the god said, “I cannot do anything for you. I am not a god of anything useful.”
Sora sat back on her heels and looked at the altar to listen to the god.
“When the Storm came and destroyed his wheat, I could not save it,” the god said, “When the Harvest failed and he was hungry, I could not feed him. When War came,” the god’s voice faltered. “When War came, I could not protect him. He came bleeding from the battle to die in my arms.” Sora looked down again at the bones.
“I think you are the god of something very useful,” she said.
“What?” the god asked.
Sora carefully lifted the skull onto the cloth. “You are the god of Arepo.”
Generations passed. The village recovered from its tragedies—homes rebuilt, gardens re-planted, wounds healed. The old man who once lived on the hill and spoke to stone and rubble had long since been forgotten, but the temple stood in his name. Most believed it to be empty, as the god who resided there long ago had fallen silent. Yet, any who passed the decaying shrine felt an ache in their hearts, as though mourning for a lost friend. The cold that seeped from the temple entrance laid their spirits low, and warded off any potential visitors, save for the rare and especially oblivious children who would leave tiny clusters of pink and white flowers that they picked from the surrounding meadow.
The god sat in his peaceful home, staring out at the distant road, to pedestrians, workhorses, and carriages, raining leaves that swirled around bustling feet. How long had it been? The world had progressed without him, for he knew there was no help to be given. The world must be a cruel place, that even the useful gods have abandoned, if farms can flood, harvests can run barren, and homes can burn, he thought.
He had come to understand that humans are senseless creatures, who would pray to a god that cannot grant wishes or bless upon them good fortune. Who would maintain a temple and bring offerings with nothing in return. Who would share their company and meditate with such a fruitless deity. Who would bury a stranger without the hope for profit. What bizarre, futile kindness they had wasted on him. What wonderful, foolish, virtuous, hopeless creatures, humans were.
So he painted the sunset with yellow leaves, enticed the worms to dance in their soil, flourished the boundary between forest and field with blossoms and berries, christened the air with a biting cold before winter came, ripened the apples with crisp, red freckles to break under sinking teeth, and a dozen other nothings, in memory of the man who once praised the god’s work on his dying breath.
“Hello, God of Every Humble Beauty in the World,” called a familiar voice.
The squinting corners of the god’s eyes wept down onto curled lips. “Arepo,” he whispered, for his voice was hoarse from its hundred-year mutism.
“I am the god of devotion, of small kindnesses, of unbreakable bonds. I am the god of selfless, unconditional love, of everlasting friendships, and trust,” Arepo avowed, soothing the other with every word.
“That’s wonderful, Arepo,” he responded between tears, “I’m so happy for you—such a powerful figure will certainly need a grand temple. Will you leave to the city to gather more worshippers? You’ll be adored by all.”
“No,” Arepo smiled.
“Farther than that, to the capitol, then? Thank you for visiting here before your departure.”
“No, I will not go there, either,” Arepo shook his head and chuckled.
“Farther still? What ambitious goals, you must have. There is no doubt in my mind that you will succeed, though,” the elder god continued.
“Actually,” interrupted Arepo, “I’d like to stay here, if you’ll have me.”
The other god was struck speechless. “…. Why would you want to live here?”
“I am the god of unbreakable bonds and everlasting friendships. And you are the god of Arepo.”
Thanks @whitlockswhorefor the tag 🐌✨
Rules: put your entire music library on shuffle and write down the first 10 songs that come on. Tag 10 others!
(I’d like to preface by saying I don’t really have a music library, so I just shuffled my liked songs on Spotify)
Dope on a Rope // The Growlers
Únicos // Siddhartha
Fred Astaire // Jukebox The Ghost
Love You Later // Zac Clark
Fast Car // Tracy Chapman
Rescue Me // One Republic
Flightless Bird, American Mouth // Iron & Wine
Bittersweet // Greer
Saw You in a Dream // The Japanese House
As It Was
I tag: @jessabellaswan, @smeyerskhakifetish, @newmoonthescore, @whyrweheretwilight2020, @ohyoudosmellgood, and @its-always-sunny-in-forks
thanks so much for the tag @haletwinsstan @vintagealice @ive-lost-my-effervescent-mind @esmecullenismymom ! 🥰
Rules: put your entire music library on shuffle and write down the first 10 songs that come on. Tag 10 others!
(i only have specific playlists so it was a bit hard to do this but i just used my most random one)
1. Awake My Soul - Mumford and Sons
2. Amour Plastique - Videoclub
3. Lost Without You - Freya Ridings
4. Heavy In Your Arms - Florence and the Machine (who would have thought huh)
5. Crowded Places - BANKS
6. NFWMB - Hozier
7. Shooting the Moon - OK Go (again, what a surprise)
8. She Changes the Weather - Swim Deep
9. Daylight - Matt and Kim
10. Bridges - Broods
i don’t know who did this because i‘m quite late, but i tag @emmetthastiktokforsure @gemstone-jasper @personalbrandofjasper and @velvetpier 🥰
Thanks for tagging me @ohyoudosmellgood !
Rules: put your entire music library on shuffle and write down the first 10 songs that come on. Tag 10 others!
1. Blues at the Acropolis - The Breeders
2. Children of the Revolution - Violent Femmes
3. Lady Stardust - David Bowie
4. All Nerve - The Breeders
5. Moby Dick - Led Zeppelin
6. Come As You Are - Nirvana
7. Lord of the Thighs - The Breeders (can you tell I like The Breeders)
8. Rag and Bone - The White Stripes
9. Debaser - The Pixies
10. Kiss It All Goodbye - Garageland
Apologies if any of you have already been tagged, but I tag @jasperwhitcock @supermassivebabytwilight @jazperwhitlock @big-idiot-wolf-boys ❤️
thanks @personalbrandofjasper jasper for the tag
Rules: put your entire music library on shuffle and write down the first 10 songs that come on. Tag 10 others!
1. Cannibal - kesha
2. save that shit - lil peep
3. if you can’t hang - sleeping with sirens
4. ghost boy - lil peep
5. a thousand years - Christina perri
6. adam’s song - blink 182
7. amnesia - 5 seconds of summer
8. smiling when i die - sasha sloan
9. love story - taylor swift
10. tuff - jaah SLT
wow i’m embarrassed but anyways @twilightbutokayer @twilightsagadaily @twilightisgaynow @twilight-af @jasperwhitcock @jaspersbat @jasperwhitlockk @janes-eyebrows @jasper-is-a-snack @bellasredchevy
Scooby Doo taught us that cops don’t do their jobs and it’s up to America’s youth to unmask the greedy old white guys that are terrorizing society.
‘He was my everything’: Boy who drowned in Brookings pond remembered for smile, generosity
The body of Molu Zarpeleh, 10, who was reported missing last Thursday night, was recovered from a privately-owned retention pond along 12th Street South around 8:40 a.m. Friday after authorities searched the pond, according to a new release from the City of Brookings.
A tip that Zarpeleh had been pushed into the pond that circulated on social media has been redacted by the tipster, said Chelsea Bakken, public information officer for the City of Brookings. Investigators also reported that tips they received Friday related to circumstances surrounding the incident were not true but won’t state why. Police are ignoring it and ruling it an “accidental drowning but his mother says differently.
“A 10-year-old boy would not just take his sandals off and walk into the water,” she said. “He didn’t know how to swim.”
Brookings police and the Brookings Fire Department searched for Zarpeleh until about 2:30 a.m. Friday before the search was stopped due to safety concerns, poor lighting and murky water, the release states. Searchers used pumps from Brookings Municipal Utilities and Brookings County to remove about 300,000 gallons of water from the pond during the resumed search Friday morning
“Molu died, but I can’t say ‘was’ yet,” Mole said. “He’s my first child. He’s my only son. I don’t want to use the word ‘was.’ I can’t imagine him not living.”
Source / Source / Source
DONATE HERE (The local Lutheran Church in Brookings is giving all donations to the family)
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happy 4th of july ! :’)
my aesthetic 🥺
