#Applying for Letters of Administration

[iwcprobateservicesuk]

Navigating the Process of Applying for Letters of Administration

Introduction:

When a loved one passes away without leaving a will, the process of administering their estate can be complex and daunting. One crucial step in this process is applying for Letters of Administration. This legal document grants authority to manage the deceased person's assets and settle their affairs. Understanding the intricacies of applying for Letters of Administration is essential for navigating this challenging time effectively.

What Exactly Are Letters of Administration?

Letters of Administration are court-issued documents that authorize an individual (the administrator) to manage the estate of a deceased person who did not leave a valid will. This legal authority enables the administrator to collect assets, pay debts, and distribute the remaining estate according to the intestacy laws of the jurisdiction.

Who Can Apply for Letters of Administration?

In most jurisdictions, the right to apply for Letters of Administration is typically granted to the deceased's next of kin, such as their spouse, children, or parents. If no eligible next of kin exists or if they are unwilling or unable to act, other interested parties may apply, including creditors or beneficiaries of the estate.

What Steps Are Involved in the Application Process?

The process of applying for Letters of Administration typically involves several steps. These may include gathering necessary documents, such as the death certificate and details of the deceased's assets and liabilities, completing application forms, and submitting them to the appropriate court. The complexity of the process may vary depending on jurisdictional requirements.

What Criteria Must Be Met to Obtain Letters of Administration?

To obtain Letters of Administration, the applicant must demonstrate their legal right to act as the administrator of the estate. This may involve proving their relationship to the deceased and their eligibility under intestacy laws. Additionally, the applicant must show that there is a genuine need for administration and that they are capable of fulfilling the duties and responsibilities involved.

What Duties and Responsibilities Does an Administrator Have?

Once appointed, the administrator assumes significant responsibilities in managing the deceased's estate. These duties may include identifying and valuing assets, paying outstanding debts and taxes, distributing assets to beneficiaries, and ensuring compliance with legal requirements and court directives. Administrators must act in the best interests of the estate and its beneficiaries at all times.

How Does the Application Process Differ from Probate?

While both involve the distribution of a deceased person's assets, the application process for Letters of Administration differs from probate in that probate is typically required when the deceased left a valid will. In contrast, Letters of Administration are necessary when there is no will or when the existing will is deemed invalid.

What Challenges or Disputes Might Arise During the Application Process?

The application process for Letters of Administration may face various challenges and disputes, particularly if there are disagreements among potential administrators or disputes over the distribution of assets. Additionally, creditors or other parties may contest the application, leading to delays and legal proceedings.

Are There Alternatives to Applying for Letters of Administration?

In some cases, alternative mechanisms may exist for managing the estate of a deceased person without applying for Letters of Administration. For example, small estates may qualify for simplified probate procedures or other administrative processes. It's essential to explore all available options and seek legal advice to determine the most appropriate course of action.

Conclusion:

Applying for Letters of Administration is a critical step in the estate administration process for individuals who pass away without a valid will. By understanding the requirements, responsibilities, and potential challenges involved, applicants can navigate this process effectively and ensure the orderly management and distribution of the deceased's estate. Seeking professional legal guidance can be invaluable in navigating the complexities of applying for Letters of Administration and fulfilling the duties of the administrator.

[its-probatelawyersperth-blog]

Hire the Best Probate Lawyer in Australian Law Jurisdiction

[ctl-yuejie]

it's so fucking funny that during rotation all of my peers can do their jobs (as judges, prosecutors, jurists in administration, lawyers etc) but in the end a non substantial amount of us will fail the bar

almost as if sitting the bar is a shit system

[reasonsforhope]

Holy crap, I didn't think Biden would be able to get the Climate Corps established without Congress. This is SUCH fantastic news.

--

"After being thwarted by Congress, President Joe Biden will use his executive authority to create a New Deal-style American Climate Corps that will serve as a major green jobs training program.

In an announcement Wednesday, the White House said the program will employ more than 20,000 young adults who will build trails, plant trees, help install solar panels and do other work to boost conservation and help prevent catastrophic wildfires.

The climate corps had been proposed in early versions of the sweeping climate law approved last year but was jettisoned amid strong opposition from Republicans and concerns about cost.

Democrats and environmental advocacy groups never gave up on the plan and pushed Biden in recent weeks to issue an executive order authorizing what the White House now calls the American Climate Corps.

“After years of demonstrating and fighting for a Climate Corps, we turned a generational rallying cry into a real jobs program that will put a new generation to work stopping the climate crisis,” said Varshini Prakash, executive director of the Sunrise Movement, an environmental group that has led the push for a climate corps.

With the new corps “and the historic climate investments won by our broader movement, the path towards a Green New Deal is beginning to become visible,” Prakash said...

...Environmental activists hailed the new jobs program, which is modeled after the Civilian Conservation Corps, created in the 1930s by President Franklin D. Roosevelt, a Democrat, as part of the New Deal...

Lawmakers Weigh In

More than 50 Democratic lawmakers, including Massachusetts Sen. Ed Markey and New York Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, had also encouraged Biden to create a climate corps, saying in a letter on Monday that “the climate crisis demands a whole-of-government response at an unprecedented scale.”

The lawmakers cited deadly heat waves in the Southwest and across the nation, as well as dangerous floods in New England and devastating wildfires on the Hawaiian island of Maui, among recent examples of climate-related disasters.

Democrats called creation of the climate corps “historic” and the first step toward fulfilling the vision of the Green New Deal.

“Today President Biden listened to the (environmental) movement, and he delivered with an American Climate Corps,” a beaming Markey said at a celebratory news conference outside the Capitol.

“We are starting to turn the green dream into a green reality,” added Ocasio-Cortez, who co-sponsored the Green New Deal legislation with Markey four years ago.

“You all are changing the world,” she told young activists.

Program Details and Grant Deadlines

The initiative will provide job training and service opportunities to work on a wide range of projects, including restoring coastal wetlands to protect communities from storm surges and flooding; clean energy projects such as wind and solar power; managing forests to prevent catastrophic wildfires; and energy efficient solutions to cut energy bills for consumers, the White House said.

Creation of the climate corps comes as the Environmental Protection Agency launches a $4.6 billion grant competition for states, municipalities and tribes to cut climate pollution and advance environmental justice. The Climate Pollution Reduction Grants are funded by the 2022 climate law and are intended to drive community-driven solutions to slow climate change.

EPA Administrator Michael Regan said the grants will help “communities so they can chart their own paths toward the clean energy future.”

The deadline for states and municipalities to apply is April 1, with grants expected in late 2024. Tribes and territories must apply by May 1, with grants expected by early 2025."

-via Boston.com, September 21, 2023

[papasmoke]

Alexander Smith, a contractor for the US Agency for International Development (USAID), said he was given a choice between resignation and dismissal after preparing a presentation on maternal and child mortality among Palestinians, which was cancelled at the last minute by USAID leadership last week.

Smith, a senior adviser on gender, maternal health, child health, and nutrition chose to resign on Monday after four years at USAID. In his resignation letter to the head of the agency, Samantha Power, he complained about the inconsistencies in USAID’s approach to different countries and humanitarian crises, and the general treatment of Palestinians.

“I cannot do my job in an environment in which specific people cannot be acknowledged as fully human, or where gender and human rights principles apply to some, but not to others, depending on their race,” he wrote.

[pocketramblr]

Please!

AU where both Izuku and Bakugou are rejected from UA Hero Course.

And to make it juicy. The reason for the rejections is the suicide baiting incident being known by UA. While Bakugou is rejected for obvious reasons. Izuku is rejected for his ‘own safety’ and because they won’t trust his psyche went unscathed.

1- The thing about Bakugou is that he was not particularly well liked by his classmates at Aldera. Oh, he had friends, and no one was willing to stand up to him, but plenty of students had grudges about how he acted. They rolled their eyes when Bakugou went on a rant about being the only one who could make it to UA, or his lackeys hyped him up, but then they'd look away without a word when he caught them and glared. No one was going to say he wasn't powerful and couldn't do it, just like they weren't going to say Deku had any chance. Sometimes, capable people are also very annoying, and you just have to deal with that, so the kids did. And if a few were in a small group chat that would sneak pictures or videos to show the kids not in their class and complain, well, that's what the kids did. And then one day, one filmed the conversation after school, after Bakugou threw out the notebook, and posted it publicly, as well as in the chat.

2- nothing came of this. Izuku had either blocked or been blocked by a lot of his classmates online, and hadn't really bothered to look for most of them anyway, so neither he nor Bakugou are aware of the video. The sludge villain sort of happened an hour later, and that's what got the big media buzz- the news couldn't publish the names of the teens involved if they ever even had them, but locally, people at Aldera knew who the kids on tv were.

3- the next year, UA has its recommendation exams. Every student is meticulously background checked before even being accepted as an potential for the exam and interview. A couple weeks later, they have the standard exam. The background checks will happen after this- UA after all has a very prestigious image. Bakugou wasn't wrong that if he took his lackey's cigarette and UA found out, his chances would be gone. Unfortunately for him, the video was still online. Mostly forgotten about... Until it contained not one but two potential UA students.

4- Nedzu and the six hero course homeroom teachers are on the board of student admissions, but so are two others each from administration, public relations, the school board, and the heroics commission. The top fifty scorers are ruthlessly picked through. The video is watched. Some want to exclude Izuku, some Bakugou, some both. Nedzu would prefer to have them both enrolled in separate classes, but is outvoted. He doesn't warn the board this will mean All Might will not be staying on to teach - he really can't, without telling secrets, but he does warn All Might the next night, and gracefully accepts his resignation.

5- a week after the exams, acceptance and rejection letters are sent. These are simply written on paper. Apparently neither of them are a good fit for the school. No further reason is given. Bakugou spends one day in his room, quieter than ever, then rush applies to other schools. Shiketsu is supposed to be UA's equal. Perhaps their admissions process will be less rigid. Or perhaps his rise to number one is "supposed" to come from humble starts, and Aldera Middle School wasn't that, but some mid rank hero school is. Meanwhile, on the beach, All Might tells Izuku that he actually ended up with the most rescue points in the exam, and his score was high enough to place him in top ten... It was just the screenings afterwards that did it. Perhaps the school was concerned about his health, with him breaking nearly every limb. Or perhaps his incorrect quirk registration was a red flag- either way, it's things All Might blames himself for, Izuku is the one who passed the test, and with only a few hours of having OfA too. So All Might asks Izuku what he wants to do- try for another hero school nearby? Toshinori probably can't get a job there on short notice without being suspicious, but he'll work to train him every day after, and come up with some other excuse for why he's in the field less. Or, should he reach out to I-island? Toshinori's even willing to see about setting up a personal internship with himself or Gran Torino, though he really kinda hopes Izuku doesn't pick that one. Izuku bursts into tears and apologies, having only held them back this long out of shame, they hug, and Toshi tells Izuku to take his time deciding, it'll be all right, because Izuku is here and he has full faith in him, regardless of what UA admissions thinks.

[sayruq]

Alexander Smith, a contractor for the US Agency for International Development (USAID), said he was given a choice between resignation and dismissal after preparing a presentation on maternal and child mortality among Palestinians, which was cancelled at the last minute by USAID leadership last week. Smith, a senior adviser on gender, maternal health, child health, and nutrition chose to resign on Monday after four years at USAID. In his resignation letter to the head of the agency, Samantha Power, he complained about the inconsistencies in USAID’s approach to different countries and humanitarian crises, and the general treatment of Palestinians. “I cannot do my job in an environment in which specific people cannot be acknowledged as fully human, or where gender and human rights principles apply to some, but not to others, depending on their race,” he wrote.

[hotmentransformed]

Undercover Agent

Edgar had always been the quiet type, the kind of boy who preferred the company of books to people. His fascination with the FBI began in childhood, fueled by late-night spy movies and crime novels. Growing up in a small town, his dream of becoming an agent seemed distant and improbable, but Edgar's determination never wavered. He studied hard, earned top grades at an Ivy League, and applied for every opportunity that could bring him closer to his goal.

When he received the letter offering him an internship at the FBI office in Washington D.C., Edgar couldn't believe his luck. He packed his bags and left for the U.S. capital, filled with nervous excitement.

His first day was a whirlwind of introductions, security clearances, and overwhelming awe at the sheer scale of the operation. He was assigned to the administrative department, a role that felt both thrilling and mundane.

Edgar's days were filled with menial tasks: sorting files, delivering messages, and making coffee runs. Yet, every interaction with the agents and every glimpse into their work only deepened his resolve. He longed to be part of their world, to contribute to something meaningful. His unassuming nature meant he often went unnoticed, but he observed everything with keen interest.

One afternoon, as he was delivering a stack of files to a high-security area, Edgar noticed a door slightly ajar. The sign on the door read "Restricted Access: Authorized Personnel Only." His heart skipped a beat. What secrets lay behind that door? His curiosity was piqued. He looked around to make sure no one was watching and then slipped inside.

The room was dimly lit and filled with an array of scientific equipment. Beakers bubbled, machines hummed, and shelves were lined with vials of various colors. One vial, in particular, caught Edgar's eye. It was a luminous blue, glowing faintly in the low light. The label read "Project Chimera: Undercover Agent Enhancement."

Edgar’s curiosity overwhelmed him. He picked up the vial and turned it over in his hands, wondering what kind of enhancement it promised. He imagined himself as a capable, confident agent, ready to take on the world. The thought was intoxicating. Before he could talk himself out of it, Edgar uncorked the vial and drank it down.

The cool liquid had a faint taste of mint, and he swallowed it down in one gulp. At first, nothing happened, and he began to feel foolish for having taken such a reckless risk. Surely he would be fired after they found the empty vial. But then, a warmth spread through his chest, radiating outward like ripples in a pond.

Suddenly, he doubled over, clutching his stomach as a wave of energy surged through his body. It felt as though every cell in his body was being recharged, filling him with a power he had never known. His muscles began to tingle, then burn, as they expanded and hardened. He watched in awe as his biceps bulged, the fabric of his polo straining to contain his growing arms. His chest broadened as dark hair swirled around, pushing its way from the bursting buttons. Each breath he took caused his pectoral muscles to swell and push against the confines of his shirt, threatening to rip it completely from his torso.

His legs thickened with powerful new muscles. He felt his posture straighten, his spine elongating as his back muscles pulled him upright. The once baggy clothes he wore were now tight and restrictive, seams straining under the pressure of his rapidly expanding physique. He could feel his strength increasing with every passing second, the awkwardness of his former self melting away to reveal a body that looked like it belonged to a professional athlete or a comic book superhero.

His vision sharpened, and he instinctively reached up to remove his glasses. He no longer needed them; his eyesight was now perfect, every detail in the room coming into crystal-clear focus. Edgar stumbled to a mirror on the wall, hardly daring to believe what he might see. The reflection staring back at him was almost unrecognizable. The once scrawny intern had been replaced by a tall, muscular young man with chiseled features. His face had changed too—his jawline was stronger, more defined, and his eyes, now a piercing blue, seemed to sparkle with confidence.

Edgar flexed his new muscles, feeling a rush of exhilaration. His biceps, triceps, and deltoids rippled under his skin, each movement revealing the power contained within his new body. He ran his hands over his chest and abs, marveling at the firm, sculpted muscles that had replaced his once soft and unimpressive frame. He felt invincible, every ounce of self-doubt and insecurity evaporating in the face of his newfound strength and confidence.

As he continued to examine himself, the door to the laboratory swung open, and a female service agent walked in. She stopped dead in her tracks, her eyes widening in shock. There was a strange man who had broken into the FBI office. Edgar turned to face her, his new features displaying a calm assurance he had never possessed before.

"It's me, Edgar," he said, his voice deeper and more resonant than he remembered. "I... I drank the serum."

The agent's shock slowly turned to suspicion as she studied him. "You know this is a serious breach of protocol, right?" she said, her tone stern but not unkind.

"Yes, ma'am. But maybe it happened for a reason. Maybe I can help," Edgar replied, feeling a newfound boldness and blinding arrogance.

She looked him up and down, then sighed. "We do have a situation. There's a drug ring operating out of the Alpha Epsilon Pi frat at Georgetown, and we need someone to go undercover. They'd never suspect a new guy like you."

Edgar felt a thrill of excitement. He had the chance to prove himself, to show that he was more than just an intern. Now he was an undercover agent.

[jymwahuwu]

JSHDJDBDJBSSJSBS THE WRIO ONE👀💦 + the fact that you can stay after serving your sentence

imagine being one of the prisoners at the fortress at first but you actually smiled at him when he's signing your paperwork for having served your sentence but he wants you to stay...

If you cooperate, you get a protective and cuddly wolf but if you don't, then you'll get a lovely 'hustle and tussle' at first. Don't worry, sigewinne has all the ointments needed to soothe the bite marks and hickies left by a beloved wolf🤭🥰

-💦anon (life is killing me but my therapy are hot men -wriothesley and Neuvillette-🦋)

💦nonny, me too lol i feel less tired just thinking about them. sending you a digital hug <3

And this… face the fact that we can't leave the Fortress of Meropide once the sentence starts, it doesn't matter if it's 10 days or not 😹💗

CW: yandere, non-con, abuse of power, spanking, forced imprisonment

You weren't actually that worried about going to jail—although you weren't so laid-back as to think it was summer camp, you weren't sighing like the others either. You live in Fontaine, after all, a country famous for its laws. Your friend has been to the Fortress of Meropide three times, and a classmate was imprisoned for 15 days for some inexplicable reason. They give you some instructions on what to do in prison and write letters to friends who are still in prison asking them to look after you.

You go to jail with the papers, but the receptionist is on leave, so you have to go to Wriothesley in person. Need to meet the "Duke"? Fortunately, you learned about Wriothesley's character from your friends in advance and breathed a sigh of relief. "Hi, do you want some tea?" Whether you shook your hand or nodded, Wriothesley put down a cup of warm tea on the table and read some stupid shit charges, such as singing for Furina but off-key, lying about not having dessert at home, hanging wet clothes on rain. The number on your sentence document is "10 days." You are clearly a victim of these stupid crimes.

During these 10 days, you have been assigned to work in Wriothesley's office to replace other prison labor. You read the manual and brew the tea, looking around in confusion, but don't see any other prisoners - are you the only one working here…? You just had to prepare tea, process and deliver documents, but…once you accidentally dropped a piece of the opera cake on the floor (his afternoon tea). Without warning, Wriothesley pulled down your panties and spanked you. Absolute…shock. Could he do this…?

You convince yourself that this might be prison discipline…right? It should be like this, right…?

After working for ten days, you hummed a song and walked briskly, holding the release documents to look for Wriothesley. With a grin, you asked him to sign it in a soft tone.

"Why do you think I'd sign?" He raised his eyebrows and looked up at you, crossing his arms.

Your raised lips froze, and the luster gradually faded from your face. "You-won't you sign?"

Unexpectedly, you receive a confession from "The Duke," the prison administrator. Knowing that it was not a reason for the complaint, you gradually felt relieved. Ask your heart, do you agree to stay -

Agree:

Wriothesley leaves you in the Fortress of Meropide, but also allows you to return to the surface. He is a humorous and considerate boyfriend. The two of you often date at teahouses, coffee shops, and the Fortress of Meropide. Once, Chief Justice met the two of you and sighed in realization. "So this is your mate, for love and mating."

You: (cheeks burning) ?????

Disagree:

There was an argument that ended with Wriothesley pushing you and placing you on the table, forcing your legs apart. It was rough but controlled force - basically no injuries except for bites and hickeys on your neck and inner thighs. Frustrated sobs gave way to reluctant moans. After this, little Sigewinne gave him a rare scolding, and examined and applied medicine to you.

Still, you can't get out of jail. Those handcuffs locked you in his office and resting area. He pats your head and tells you to be good.

[narklos]

Half-Lore #3: 66 HL Facts!

Make your 'counting to three' jokes in the tags please. Back with another instalment, this is one I've been looking forward to! 66 random facts spanning the entire Half-Life franchise (bc I couldn't fit 100 in one post due to numbered list character limits...) If you have any suggestions for other instalments of Half-Lore, please let me know.

Have a peep under the cut, and enjoy!

Gordon can speak, as confirmed in a series of letters that were included in HL1's box. They mention that L.M and him had a telephone call prior to Gordon's arrival.

Speaking of L.M, he was the original administrator for Black Mesa. L.M was the G-Man, though his full name is never revealed.

Barney and Breen were both meant to appear in Half-Life: Alyx, but were cut due to a hard reset on the game's development.

Gordon is apparently very clumsy. Eli jokes about it in a series of cut voicelines.

Prior to his appointment at Black Mesa, Gordon was stationed at the University of Innsbruck in Austria.

Russell's complaint about being told to apply a year later after his interview at Black Mesa is a real-life hiring process that Valve uses.

Marc Laidlaw mentioned that the baby photo in Gordon's locker is probably a nephew, making Gordon an uncle!

Bullsquids have a 'hungry' mode. If they find a dead headcrab, and they're in hungry mode, they'll eat it. Otherwise, they'll play a sniffing animation and walk away.

In HL2, you can bonk NPCs on the head during a cutscene to make them teleport. This is because the game thinks that the character is trapped by a physics prop, and will teleport them to the next segment in the cutscene to free them.

On Kleiner's clipboard during his first cutscene, what he's saying about the HEV suit is actually written on the paper word-for-word.

Barney has a girlfriend called Lauren, and a picture of her in his locker. The woman in question was a real-life girlfriend of one of the devs.

In one of the OP4 skyboxes, a dev has written the note "Hack hack hack all day long. Hack hack hack while I sing this song."

The mysterious artefact Alyx brings back to Black Mesa East is the head of a Cremator, which was a cut enemy.

HL2 was originally meant to take place in New York.

Headcrabs don't turn Gordon into a zombie because he apparently never lets them get close to his face.

Colette gets a kick out of violence.

Gordon was employee of the month when the Resonance Cascade happened.

A special rebel outpost along Route Kanal will start playing ambient windchimes if you hang around long enough.

Breen was meant to wear a pair of glasses, but Marc Laidlaw went against it, citing that they made Breen look 'vaguely homosexual'.

Russell was originally meant to be Laszlo, the finest mind of his generation. His computer's password is actually 'Laszlo' too!

There are props clipping through Russell's ceiling intentionally- objects will phase through each other during portal storms, the likes of which ravage City 17.

The Citadel wasn't built on Earth, per se- it was teleported in chunk by chunk like the world's biggest IKEA assembly.

G-Man cannot understand the Vort's language, and the Vorts use by-words when discussing him and the Advisors to avoid detection.

Combine Advisors cannot breathe Earth's atmosphere, hence the breathing apparatus they wear.

There was meant to be a fourth day of HL2's plot, but it was shortened to three. Players would have fought through a museum.

Eli lost his leg to a bullsquid when he was helping Kleiner into City 17.

Kleiner and Barney were meant to die in a bus crash in HL2's opening sequence. Marc Laidlaw wrote a short story discussing their deaths in rather graphic detail.

In Decay, there was a cut sequence where players witnessed Gordon getting killed if they didn't scare away the soldiers in time.

Despite 20 years having passed in reality, only around two weeks have passed for Gordon due to being in stasis.

For HLA, developers scanned in a $10,000 Nordstrom suit to use for G-Man's textures.

Level designer David Casali, who has worked on every single mainline HL game, was too tall for a lot of the levels in HLA's Vault sequence. This lead to a lot of upside-down sections being cut for accessibility.

G-Man was meant to be an unwilling prisoner in the Vault, as revealed in a storyboard in The Final Hours.

The Nihilanth is inspired by Gabe Newell's fears of fatherhood, as he'd just had his son at the time.

Nothing is native to Xen. Every alien animal present on Xen is running away from The Combine's invasion of their homeworlds.

During Opposing Force, players can find a gear and a valve inside of a cardboard box- a very clear nod to Gearbox and Valve!

Barney's model changes subtly from HL2 to Episode 1- he's shown more dishevelled, with his hair unkempt and a series of cuts on his cheeks.

G-Man's face is hidden in the Xenian crystal at Black Mesa East.

Alyx was found by the G-Man, sitting beside her dead mother and clutching her mother's wedding ring.

Child labour was meant to appear, with models and animations of the children working in Cremator factories made. This, understandably, were cut, and the lack of children explained away with the suppression field.

G-Man's crow friend is nicknamed 'Crowley'.

During the tactical map section of Surface Tension, you don't have to use the drone strike to destroy the doors leading to the next level- you can actually break it with a fully-charged Tau Cannon shot.

Typing 'haiku' in the game's console will generate a random haiku for you.

Imprisoning the G-Man in HLA was referred to as putting 'God in a Box' by developers.

HL2 on PC and HL2 on Xbox 360 sound wildly different! Due to advanced sound chips, developers were able to push the audio of HL2 to be more immersive and sound more realistic than on PC.

Grigori's shotgun is called Annabelle.

A model of Eli naked exists. This was meant to be used in the section we see him in the Combine pods.

An illustration of G-Man holding a gun to his head can be found on the back of a sign in HLA.

Similarly, in the Index HLA home environment, his eyes are used as part of an advertisement for 'vision enhancement'.

You can find a minifigure of the Scout in HLA.

The textures for some of HLA's cans actually use a recoloured metal effect from HL1's orange poster.

Grigori has cut crosses into the backs of his hands.

Inside G-Man's briefcase is pencils, ID, paper, and a gun.

The shadowy woman in HLA is called Hahn/The Contractor, and according to Erik Wolpaw, they 'have plans' for her.

A cut enemy called Mr. Friendly was meant to literally SA the player and knock Gordon's glasses off, blurring the screen. Apparently, the idea was to play on a gamer's subconscious (or conscious...) homophobia and make them freak out. This enemy was actually designed by a teenager, and was predictably scrapped.

Early advertisements for HL1 featured babies and children with lambdas replacing their eyes.

HL1 is intended to be an allegory for fighting your own inner hopelessness.

Valve's offices have a wall built to resemble the moving walls of the Citadel.

G-Man has had a total of 11 different models throughout HL's history.

Breaking the army crates in the Dreamcast port of HL1 will reveal copies of Sonic Adventure inside.

Gordon is from Seattle, Washington.

HL2 was delayed a lot during its development. At the time, many swore never to buy from Valve again due to their broken promises.

HL2's E3 demonstrations were staged.

Colette was employed by G-Man, but Gina died.

During a Reddit AMA, a dev responded that we shouldn't keep making Gordon feel bad about his outdated hairstyle choices, when asked about where his ponytail went.

A metrocop's hideaway can be found in the level after the zoo in HLA. Due to the amount of conspiracy theory paraphanelia, the room is theorised to be Barney's.

The act of covering your mouth to stop the fumes of Xenian flora from affecting you in HLA was implemented after playtesters instictively covered their mouths when sprayed.

Thanks for reading to the bottom! Here's some top notch BREENWAVE for you.

[drive]

Boosting a fundraiser for a Palestinian Student's Education Journey in Egypt!

Shatha is a 19 year old displaced Gazan artist and student in Egypt who is accompanying her injured mother while the mother receives treatment at the Red Crescent Hospital in Cairo. I was fortunate enough to meet them while volunteering for mutual-aid efforts at the hospital back in April. And now that Egypt has opened up university registration for the upcoming school year, Shatha finally has a chance to start university again and to pursue her dream of studying Arts & Design. All we need is to do is help her with tuition and administrative fees.

To know Shatha is to witness, firsthand, the strength of her conviction to never compromise when it comes to pursuing Art in university, a dream she’s had since 7th grade.

One of Shatha’s drawings, from a sketchbook she keeps under her mother’s hospital mattress:

Back in Gaza, late September of 2023, Shatha first achieved her dream of starting Art School at Al Aqsa University to pursue a career in Design. On the 5th of October 2023, she unknowingly attended what would be her last lecture at Al Aqsa University. On the 13th of Jan 2024, her mother was walking on unsafe ground following a missile attack and fell into a crater, fracturing her right leg. On the 4th of March 2024, her mother was finally authorized to receive treatment in Cairo and two days after that, Shatha left her father and siblings behind in Gaza to accompany her mother to the Red Crescent Hospital in Cairo where they still reside to this day.

Her mother’s leg before and after plate insertion which was the first step they took in treatment:

Shatha’s University, Al Aqsa, destroyed in Khan Younis (Picture by Ruwaida Amer):

Now with no university left standing in Gaza, Gazan students were given the option to start over at foreign universities, granted that they still have their certificate/transcripts in their possession, something Shatha thankfully does.

Picture showing Shatha’s High School scores, averaging 85% in the Literary (Adabi) Pathway:

Picture showing tuition costs for international students at Egyptian Public Universities. Shatha’s Yearly tuition, highlighted in purple, being one of the lowest on the list: 3500 USD:

The costs listed below, and the fundraiser’s preliminary goal, are set for the lowest possible sum needed, not accounting for student accommodation or a stipend for her to survive the 5 years of school here in Egypt. Any added costs, or if the fundraiser’s goal increases in the future, will be explained as they become apparent to us.

We’ve started the campaign before her acceptance into a specific school because after initial acceptance, we would only be given 2 weeks to pay for the rest of admin costs and first-year tuition which is thousands of dollars we currently don’t have. So we will start fundraising ahead and will update this fundraiser with her acceptance letter or any news as soon as we receive them.

Breakdown of Costs:

Mandatory Administrative One-Time Fees:

Website Registration Fees: 170 USD

University Coordination (Tansiq) Fees: 170 USD

Registration to The Foreign Student Fund: 150 USD

University Registration Fees: 1500 USD

Tuition & Paperwork:

Yearly Tuition: 1750 USD (after applying 50% discount offered to Palestinian students), multiplying by 5 years is 8750 USD.

Renewal of Shatha’s Passport for Application: 200 USD.

Everything sums up to: 10940 USD.

Please help Shatha achieve her dreams. I know for certain that she will go on to do great things in life and I, and hopefully you as well, am honored to have been part of her life and her journey to achieving that.

Thank you so much for donating to this fund, please remember to also share widely within your networks.

Note: This fundraiser is created on behalf of Shatha Mesmeh by Mohamed Ashraf, an Egyptian citizen who is based between US and Egypt, and Menna Essam, who is based in Egypt and is in direct contact with Shatha, and it is being boosted on tumblr by me on their behalf!

This is time sensitive. In the next two weeks we need around 2,000 USD then come September we will need another 1,750 USD for Shatha to be able to apply for the major of her choice and start the semester on time. We have time for the rest.

[iwcprobateservicesuk]

Know About the Applying for Letters of Administration in the UK

When a loved one passes away without leaving a will, sorting out their estate can be daunting. One crucial step in this process is applying for Letters of Administration. In the UK, this legal document grants authority to manage and distribute the deceased's estate, similar to probate but for intestate cases. Close relatives, such as spouses, children, or parents, are eligible to apply. The court prioritizes applicants based on their relationship with the deceased, with the surviving spouse often given priority.

Start by obtaining the necessary forms from the Probate Registry or online! These forms require detailed information about the deceased's estate, including assets, liabilities, and beneficiaries.

Completing Forms Step-by-Step

Accuracy is crucial when filling out the forms. You'll need to provide details about the deceased's assets, debts, and any potential beneficiaries. This information helps the court assess the estate's value and who should be entitled to inherit.

Submitting the Application

Once the forms are completed, they must be submitted to the Probate Registry along with the appropriate fee. The court will then review the application and may request further information if necessary.

Grant of Letters of Administration

If the court approves the application, it will issue Letters of Administration. This document grants legal authority to administer the estate, allowing the appointed individuals to collect assets, pay debts, and distribute inheritance according to the law.

Administering the Estate

With the Letters of Administration in hand, the appointed administrators can begin managing the estate. This involves tasks such as gathering assets, paying debts and taxes, and distributing the remaining estate to beneficiaries.

Navigating the process of applying for Letters of Administration can be complex, especially during a time of grief. Seeking guidance from legal professionals or advisors experienced in estate matters can provide invaluable support throughout this process.

[ciphykiss]

incubus >

blade x f!reader; nsfw, mdni somnophilia (does it count if its in a dream idk), slight dubcon, light “claiming” elements

You’re going to resign tomorrow.

This is what you tell yourself when the siren of your cell blares Jingyuan’s ringtone at 3 AM on a weekend, a mere two hours following your last shift at the general’s personal slammer (you’d applied for an administrative assistant position, dammit; you were supposed to be serving the slick bastard tea and going on lotus cake runs, not wiping prisoner spit off your cheek). In the beginning, you’d attempted to balm the degrading lifestyle with girthy checks, cruising into salons like clockwork every Friday with your hair up and eyes cucumber’d, lovely Foxian ladies attending to your nails and worn muscle (you’d try to ignore their comments about how you’d aged fifty years in half of one but just end up crying), flirted with the latest designer dresses, and found yourself zombie-clicking add to cart whenever you were on the verge of your bi-weekly meltdown.

No amount of flashy makeup, a piled vanity, and three grand miniskirts are convincing enough for Tingyun, however, and the Foxian would only glance over in pity as you threw yourself at your weekend prize in attempts to forget whatever near-death experience you’d suffered from grooming Jingyuan’s latest charge before their trial.

Your holidays always ended in one of two ways: the ambassador consoling you by observing her nails while you threw your guts up on a clubside of the red light district, remarking on how you should’ve just worked under Yukong like she’d told you to (it wasn’t your fault you’d been seduced by the sleeping general enough to delude yourself into thinking you’d had a shot at a postgraduate office romance), victim to you screeching obscenities of “that bastard” while vomiting a day’s meals (five shots of espresso, a chicken wing, and offbrand Lexapro). Then, you’d spy grime under your nails from previous altercation and wail louder, because you were wasting your prime in fucking prison cells.

It was either that, or being rudely interrupted at approximately five-thirty the next day (a holiday, mind you) to a string of texts that had bypassed warnings of “do not disturb” in favor of bitching about how a true friend wouldn’t let you sleep with a negative four. The true miracle was you not ending up on Tingyun’s blocklist (she’d added you indefinitely once until you’d bombarded the Sky-Faring Commissions with love letters begging their amicassador for “one more chance pls :’(( </3”).

“Why don’t you just quit,” Tingyun had asked on an average Sunday afternoon while stirring her margarita; the Foxian looked a picture-perfect beauty next to your rat-haired, hoodie-clad figure, makeup from last night melting off your face. 

You’d ceased licking hollandaise sauce off your upper lip to stare at her. And instead of arguing about how you’d likely never procure a salary as high as your current one (nothing was worth the cost of your youth and beauty), or how Jingyuan could, quite literally, ruin every one of your future job prospects if he deemed you necessary (you’d find a way to murder him; hell hath no fury like a woman scorned), you could only muster a single thought.

“Tingyun, you’re a genius.”

The paperwork (because he is the bastard, Jingyuan had purposefully orchestrated his resignation process to be thrice as lengthy as the average Luofunian businesses, complete with word-limit essays detailing the exact reason for departure and a five-year timeline on future posts) is stashed under a vase on your nightstand; you make a mental note to litter expletives along the margins to finalize the word count. With the shit he’d just pulled, the general would be in no position to even raise a brow.

“Where’s the newbie,” you grit, slamming your receiver and thumb print over the holographic lock of the Cloud Knight’s maximum security cells. Your companion, a Vidyadhara accountant-turned-night watch guard (because Jingyuan’s ever-growing penchant for tossing civil servants into the line of criminal apprehension remained steadfast even before your recruitment), sweats nervously, shifting from one foot to the other.

“Miss [Name],” Danyin stresses, wincing at the sight of weeks-old inmates clawing at his fabrics for scraps of food, money, and flesh; you ignore him, walking onwards with an air of pissed-offery not even the most seasoned of inmates would dare inflame; your hair hangs behind you, perfumed and damp from its midnight shower, face void of the traditional rouged eyes and thick liner you’d adopted since entering Jingyuan’s court. “If I may speak—”

“You may not.”

“—the general was adamant you meet with him first before apprehension of our newest inmate. He seems… quite ruffled.”

“As he should be, because the next time I see him, I’ll rip him a ne—”

“It is evident that this criminal is naught like the others, [Name], and this is the first time we’ve had to quarter anyone in Cloudford’s maximum security ce—”

You whirl around to face Danyin, eyes ablaze. The guard withers under the brunt of your glower.

“I will see to it my duties are performed,” you say evenly, “and then, I will clock out, return to bed, and enjoy the rest of my weekend with my cell muted. You can let that scoundrel know I will be unavailable for the next 48 hours.”

And with that, you jerk the handlebar of the deepest cell in Jingyuan’s fort shut, your last sight that of Danyin with his mouth hanging open.

The maximum security cells of Jingyuan’s prison are surprisingly less unkempt than the bustle of the commons; it is dark and smells distinctly of a new, unused apartment complex. There are neither guards nor cellkeepers, no windows to speak of; only a dark, winding hallway leading to your destination.

It’s the first time you’d been allotted clearance; originally, you’d presumed the general lacked faith in both your combat abilities and the unwavering loyalty shared by his retinue (both are correct), but now, you realize it’s simply due to a lack of occupants.

(And rightfully so, because you’re having a terrible time imagining what dangers would have Jingyuan paranoid.)

You stop in front of a glass cell; it is tempered, element, bullet, sound, and magic proof; you glance down at your wristwatch and realize it has lost its signal. A neon red “O” flashes on top of the door.

Hesitantly (because despite your lack of sleep and the fact that you’re moving on sole hatred), you touch the glass, peering into the darkness for any sign of movement (any sign of life).

There are none.

Chewing your bottom lip, you decide to adopt the usual “fuck it” mentality you’d been ailed with after more than a few double-digit near death encounters in these halls and press the pads of your fingers over the lock.

It churns, once, twice, thrice, before responding in a robotic monotone; “high-risk individual detected; please exercise caution.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you wave your hand. “Just get it over with.”

A pause. “Searching database; clearance confirmed. Please confirm entry command.”

You click your tongue. “I do.”

A soft, buzzing sound. “High-risk individual detected; please reaffirm entry command.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, yes!”

The algorithm grows silent. The cogs behind the seemingly innocuous doorway bluster for at least ten seconds, winding open in a rigid, clumsy gait.

Inside, it is darker still. It smells of the preserved glaze used all over the Luofu to seal unused buildings, and a hint of dust; metallic odors assail your nose. Your eyes adjust to the blackness, and you peer long enough to spy the end of a conversation table.

“...uh, hello?”

No response. Annoyed, you search the walls for the lightswitch—your hands dart blindly until it finds the lever.

Dim, blue hues glint off the corridor, bathing the cell in an ominous, funeral-morning light. Your eyes train to the end of the table, and there he sits—still, unmoving, a mane of raven hair cascading down his back, a flesh-and-bone composition of some western Dracula. He is unlike any other inmate you’d laid eyes on before, something incorrigible, clandestine about him; it’s as if he’s frozen in the intersection of immortality and death, one foot through the door, never fully on either side. Distinctly, it reminds you of some late-stage cases of mara-struck individuals that would eventually be sent for termination (the grim fate of all Xianzhou natives).

He is as strong as he is imposing, and nearly as tall as the general himself; this, you can ascertain by the muted rise of his chest, the cling of Xianzhounian fabric over battle-hardened muscle, and knees that hit the bottom of the table. 

He can kill you, you realize instantly; a part of you screams that he not only can, but will. It is a primitive fear, one you hadn’t thought you’d face in the closely-guarded Luofu ship, especially under the watchful eye of the Cloud Knight’s general; it’s enough for you to stop breathing, and render you frozen in your tracks.

You force yourself to exhale, dragging the chair on your end of the table back to situate yourself.

“Good evening,” you manage to utter, cringing at how it comes out a half-squeak; you bite your tongue, willing yourself to harden. A killer this man might’ve been (a professional one, if your screaming gut instinct had anything to say), you didn’t power through half a decade of amicassador training and Jingyuan’s bullshit to flail at the sight of a wanted criminal. “I’m [Name], associate-assistant of General Jingyuan of the Cloud Knights, acting director-in-command of Cloudford’s maximum security center; my duties include, but are not limited to, prerequisite questioning of inmates following admission, collection of bio-data, and basic care of inmates that are unable to groom oneself.” You spy the etherous shackles bound at the wrists of his gauze-covered hands. “Do you consent to the precursory collection of bio-data?”

No response. Not even the slightest tilt of a head, not a single hair moving out of place. A little paler, and you’d presume him dead. You chew the inside of your mouth.

“Would you be willing to provide your legal name? Planet of origin? Species?” Each question is followed by another inch of silence, widening the sea between you and the stranger; though you’re simply following protocol, you can’t help but shiver at the thought of offending Jingyuan’s newest specimen. “...that will conclude logistics. As per duty, and due to current physical restrictions, I am, by law, required to provide basic grooming; this will include a wipe-down of the face. You may vocalize any additional requests; if deemed appropriate by the Cloud Knight Codex, I will comply.”

Silence.

You decide you’d rather the world swallow you back into its womb and spit you back out so you might choose another path in life. Anything to prevent the development of that stupid crush on the scoundrel-general that had left you moon-eyed enough to brush off Tingyun’s recommendation of bannering under Yukong’s Sky-Faring Commission, where you’d entertain foreign investors and tryst with exotic artists instead of dancing with the stink of death every workday.

“...I’m going to touch you now,” you murmur, the scrape of your chair filling the cell. “Please excuse me.”

It’s like diving head-first into a guillotine; every live-wire nerve in you is shrilling for you to run, dignity and Jingyuan and the peace of the Luofu be damned. Leave the goddamn cell door open if you had to; anything to save your own skin. You don’t, of course; instead, you waver in front of the man, still a sitting statue, and tear open the sterile clothpack you’d pocketed.

Slowly, you kneel—and suddenly, you’re having to look up at him, all harsh lines and dark hair, and you thank the Aeons he’s blindfolded and you can’t see his eyes, because you know you wouldn’t have been able to perform any duty under the brunt of a killer’s stare.

He smells of incense and the bloodied scabbard of a sword. Specifically, the woodsmoke used in funerals. Hesitantly, you press the damp end of the satin to the stranger’s cheek.

The result is instantaneous, and you would’ve missed it had you hadn’t been seasoned by years of dealing with the most insidious of criminals; his mouth twitches, his nostrils flare; the actions are subtle, not at all assuming to the naked eye, and would, when performed by any other inmate, be brushed off as involuntary fidgeting;

But not this man, not death himself.

You nearly drop the cloth in alarm. But you don’t, and you try to look anywhere but him (because looking at him hurts as much as it would staring into the core of a non-artificial sun), climbing over the bridge of his nose, the flesh of his lips, the dip of his brows and the cuts of his hard, narrow jaw.

He is handsome.

The thought is both funny and terrifying; it helps you function, albeit more normally, though a part of you knows you shouldn’t find a national security threat anything more than appalling.

“Done,” you murmur, pulling back until you’re no longer drunk on the scent of orientals and woodsmoke. You pause, affirming just how pretty he is up close—a word you’d seldom use to describe men, and though he is absurdly handsome, there’s something flowery about the drape of his hair over his shoulder (another sign of danger, you now realize, as Xianzhounian warriors only cut their hair after defeat), the fullness of his mouth; like a carnivorous, night-flowering jasmine, you muse, blooming a scent so elusive it would only attract the most macabre of victims into its maw.

Aeons, the wanted criminal had you waxing poetry. Had your perpetual sleep deprivation toed its way to insanity?

“...do you require any further assistance?”

It shouldn’t shock you, it really shouldn’t; and yet, his response has the same effect as being struck with a killing blow from the general’s lightning lord itself;

“No,” he rasps, and the sound shoots right down to your core.

Fuck. Maybe you should’ve convinced your Foxian friend to take that old geezer up on his threeway offer last weekend, because it had clearly been too long since you’d gotten laid. For a wanted criminal you’d just laid eyes on to have such—

No. There’s no way. You make a mental note to ask Tingyun what self-care devices are trending and hide the pang in your nether regions with a shuffle of your thighs.

“Alright,” you squeak, scrambling to your feet—and protocol be damned, because there’s nothing in this godforsaken intergalactic universe that can stop you from crawl-dashing out the door as fast as your stupid work heels will carry you.

You need an intervention (an orgasm). Stat.

ꨄ︎

The Jingyuan that haunts you at dusk is as capable as the one you loathe during the day, thrice as inflamed, and so deliciously pliant. Your vision is obscured in the pewter-gray of his mane, teeth scraping the naked flesh of your shoulder, wet and warm and hard.

You dig your nails into the roots of his hair, as always, and yank. In response, he lets out a muffled groan—you imagine the sound reverberates under your skin like ripples along a lake, and feel his (your) hands dip below the hem of your dress. He would be careful, you think—considerate, despite his bastardry, barely bruising, just harsh enough to leave you wanting, just how you like it (or so you think).

“I hate you,” you gasp, to no one; Jingyuan chuckles, lips soft over the juncture of your throat.

“Me?” 

“You,” you moan, the rake of your nails along his back coaxing him into littering a thousand kisses over your neck. “I hate you, I hate you—you and your stupid hair and lackadaisical, know-it-all attitude, and—fuck, I deserve a raise!”

“You don’t sound as though you hate me,” he hums. “In fact, you sound… rather pleased.”

Of course the Jingyuan in your hallucinogen-inspired wet dream is as cocky as the one in flesh; you scowl, landing a good one across his left cheek. He laughs, then, which spurs you to lock your legs around his hips and push him into the plush of the many pillows of your dreamscape.

“Shut up,” you order, “and put that mouth of yours to use for once.”

He doesn’t need any further instigation; dream-Jingyuan (somehow just as insufferable, despite being the byproduct of YOUR imagination) grabs you by the thighs and splits you open like his last meal. You gasp, hips moving of their own accord—reality blurs with the walls of your dreamworld, your own fingers replaced with the general’s calloused ones, and you sway to build the peak of your climax to your heart’s desire, lips coaxed open by his tongue, clit brushing against the bridge of his nose.

It’s all too much, really; you don’t remember the last time you’d had a dream so vivid, despite having remedied your insomnia quite often with visions of taming the sleeping general. There’s a strange sense of liminality; the thick fog separates to make way for cracks that closely resemble your bedroom wall, silk sheets fading into the strewn blankets you’d received as a New Year’s gift.

And then, Jingyuan does something completely unscripted—he slides you off his face, throws your leg over his hip, and grinds into your core.

You let out a whimper, something small in the back of your mind screaming that this isn’t normal—that a fabrication shouldn’t be chasing after his own pleasure, that the teeth along your neck feel harsher, more volatile;

But you can’t be bothered to care, whining for more—because suddenly, his mouth isn’t enough, and you need him, you need to be filled—had your vision been less blurry, and had you been even a smidgen less wanton, you wouldn’t noticed the shock of white hair fade into ink, the bare chest replace itself with dark fabric, and the fog of your dreamscape turn to overhead skies and a bed crowned in a million spider lilies.

And then,

“Jingyuan?” The forbidden, familiar baritone husks into your ear, and Aeons, you’d never crumbled faster—your eyes split open, still hazy, glittering with unshed tears—of frustration, of want, of hatred, everything in between and more, and you feel yourself getting even wetter. “Of all men, him?”

“What’re ‘ou doing here?” You babble, incoherent; your arms are still wrapped around his neck, and slowly, the inmate you’d been acquainted with mere hours before rises, shrouding your world in a curtain of black hair.

He smells the same—incense and blood and rain. Great. Now you’re hallucinating scents.

“That won’t do,” he says, lowering his face; the fabric of his blindfold touches your forehead, and you’re not sure why, but the fact that you can’t truly see him is even more erotic than any fantasy you’d ever conjured up before.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you mumble, the last shreds of decency slipping away to the cloudsmoke of his perfume and the flush of his hardened body against yours. “This isn’t—mmm!”

His mouth is on yours, and it is nothing like any mirage store-bought fantasia can conjure up; he is nothing like the men you pick up at clubs, nothing like the teasing Jingyuan in your dreams. He is taking you, commanding your lips to part to make way for him; his tongue searches yours, feverish and so ravaging that it should have you fleeing the planet.

Then, he moves, and you feel the brush of something hard against your mound, near corporeal; the threads of rationality snap, and you’re arching, using your hooked leg as leverage to melt into the dream-criminal’s body, because now, a dream isn’t enough—you want to feel him, warmth and muscle and the cage of his arms, and become one; a mouth isn’t enough. Suddenly, nothing is enough.

He pulls away to latch onto your neck, and you cry at the loss.

“No,” you wail, hooking your remaining leg over his waist. Slender, moreso than Jingyuan’s. “Kiss me more—gimme more—I need—”

“Take it yourself,” he says, working on the welts now littering your collarbone in what an absurd part of you assumes is an attempt to replace any remnants of the dream-general. “Do you really think yourself deserving?”

Tears brim at the corners of your eyes. “So—so mean,”

You lay there for a minute more, frustrated and so stupidly wet, aching for his touch while he seems content to deliver his punishments in the form of mouthing along every inch of your throat and breasts.

“You demon,” you accuse, fisting his shirtsleeve pathetically. Your lips twitch into a frown when he continues to ignore you.

Take it yourself, huh?

And then, because it’s a dream and you would rather die than be left unsatisfied in your own un-reality, you grab the stranger by the face, part your lips open, and finish what he so rudely began.

A part of you expects a nightmarish turn—one where he lashes out to skewer your gut, or worse; instead, he indulges you, fingers steadying your hips as they attempt to grind into a rhythm.

“You’re in my dream, aren’t you?” You whisper, scattering pecks along his cheek—he is, after all, so pretty, too pretty not to dote on. “Take responsibility. Jingyuan would.”

It’s like smelting a firecracker; his mouth bends into an almost-scowl, and the grip on your hips turns bruising.

Bandaged fingers curl into your heat, building atop an existing pressure—your reaction is visceral. A gasp, then an involuntary swivel of your spine with the heels of your feet digging into the bed; and just as you think he’s going to build a staccato, his ministrations halt.

It’s devastating, and it has you wailing into the crook of his pale, unforgiving, not-quite-embrace; frustrated, you knock your fists against his chest. If it were reality, it would hurt you more than it hurt him.

“You bastard.”

“I could ruin you,” he haunts, an echo in your ear. “I could make it burn. You would dream of me in the waking world, cry for me in the dreaming. A slave to passion, day and night; hardly sleeping, hardly eating, merely breathing, finding relief only when I move inside you.”

His lips graze over your own.

“But I won’t.”

It’s a strange, humiliating experience, coming undone from a mere kiss; your heat throbs, neglected, still sobbing to be touched, be soothed, put at rest; but the way he holds you can be mistaken as loving, and the curl of his mouth against yours is almost kind; it’s like grasping at the shadow of a man that never existed.

And then, you wake up.

Your walls are sepia and no longer skies, there are no lilies at your feet. Your cheeks are tear-stained, and there’s a hand under your skirt, the other cupping your breast in poor mimicry of your dream demon.

Something red catches the mirror on your nightstand.

There, splintered across the previously unmarred expanse of your throat, lies a canopy of bruise-colored kisses.

[allthegeopolitics]

A women’s college in Virginia has changed its admission policy and will no longer admit transgender women, after its founder’s will – dating back more than a century – was reinterpreted. Sweet Briar College, a private women’s liberal arts institute in Amherst County, was established in 1900 after the death of Indiana Fletcher Williams, whose will decreed it be a place for “girls and young women”. In a letter to the college community, officials at the university said the institution did not previously have a “stated admissions policy addressing applicants identifying as other genders, but instead addressed applicants on a case-by-case basis”. Following updates to the gender categories of the Common Application, under which students apply to schools on one standardised form, and which is recognised by more than 1,000 colleges, the officials said the changes present “a challenge both for students applying for admission and administrators and staff making admissions decisions”. [...]

Continue Reading.

[adropofhumanity]

"I cannot do my job in an environment in which specific people cannot be acknowledged as fully human, or where gender and human rights principles apply to some, but not to others."

Another Biden administration official resigned in protest of Washington's handling of Israel's ongoing war on Gaza, according to a report published Thursday.

Alexander Smith, a contractor with the US international aid agency, USAID, told the UK-based Guardian newspaper that he was offered an ultimatum after preparing a paper on Palestinian child and maternal mortality: resign, or be dismissed.

The presentation of his paper at a conference was ultimately canceled by USAID senior leadership, Smith, a former senior adviser on gender, maternal health, child health and nutrition, told the Guardian. He resigned Monday, ending his four-year tenure at the agency.

The letter, addressed to Administrator Samantha Power, assails what Smith said is USAID's unequal treatment of different countries and crises, making particular mention of the agency's treatment of Palestinians.

"I cannot do my job in an environment in which specific people cannot be acknowledged as fully human, or where gender and human rights principles apply to some, but not to others, depending on their race," he wrote, according to the Guardian.

"USAID has always prided itself on our programs supporting democracy, human rights, and rule of law," Smith wrote in his resignation letter. "In Ukraine, we call for legal redress when people are victimized, and name perpetrators of violence ... We boldly state 'Slava Ukraini' in peppy promotional videos."

"When it comes to the Palestinians, however, we avoid saying anything about their right to statehood, the abuses they're currently suffering, or which powers have been violating their basic rights to freedom, self-determination, livelihoods, and clean water," he added.

[kp777]

By Olivia Rosane

Common Dreams

Aug. 13, 2024

"You supported sending more U.S.-made bombs being used to commit war crimes... How can you say you are for respecting international human rights laws?" Tlaib asked.

U.S. Rep. Rashida Tlaib had harsh words for Secretary of State Antony Blinken as he attempted to commemorate the 75th anniversary of the Geneva Conventions while enabling what many experts consider to be Israel's genocide in Gaza.

"The United States reaffirms our steadfast commitment to respecting international humanitarian law and mitigating suffering in armed conflict," Blinken wrote on social media Monday. "We call on others to do the same."

Tlaib responded early Tuesday, "Is this a joke?"

"You supported sending more U.S.-made bombs being used to commit war crimes," Tlaib continued. "The government of Israel bombed hospitals, schools, and tents full of displaced Palestinians. How can you say you are for respecting international human rights laws?"

Tlaib also shared a link to an Amnesty International USA report from April finding that U.S. weapons sent to Israel had been used in violation of both international and U.S. law and calling for an "immediate suspension" of weapons transfers to the country.

The U.S. is Israel's leading arms supplier, providing it with 69% of its weapons imports between 2019 and 2023. This has continued in the wake of Israel's war on Gaza, which began on October 7, 2023 in response to Hamas' deadly attack on southern Israel.

The Geneva Conventions of 1949 enshrine protections for vulnerable populations during armed conflict, including wounded soldiers and first responders, prisoners of war, and civilians. They include prohibitions on torture and the targeting of hospitals, and mandate that occupying powers provide food and medical supplies to civilian populations. Despite this, Israel has made it so difficult to get supplies into Gaza that famine has spread across the territory. Reports emerged last week that Palestinians in Israeli custody were subjected to systematic abuse, including rape. And Israel has routinely used U.S. weapons to target civilian areas and infrastructure in Gaza.

"The rest of the world has spent the last 10 months defending international humanitarian law from us."

Days before Blinken's remarks commemorating the conventions, the Biden administration approved $3.5 billion in new military funds to Israel, as well as new weapons shipments. Hours later, Israel reportedly used U.S.-made weapons to target the al-Tabin school in Gaza, killing around 100 people, including at least 11 children.

"Few people have done more to make the Geneva Conventions a dead letter," author Hari Kunzru wrote in response to Blinken's 75th anniversary commemoration message.

Beyond Gaza, the U.S. under President Joe Biden has also refused to state whether or not the Fourth Geneva Convention protecting civilians in armed conflict and occupied territories applies to Israeli treatment of Palestinians in the West Bank. In particular, it has not acknowledged that the convention would prohibit Israeli settlements in the territory altogether.

Tlaib and Kunzru were not the only people to criticize Blinken for his statement.

"Irony is dead," wrote human rights lawyer Mai El-Sadany. "If the U.S. cared anything for the Geneva Conventions, it would not be choosing active complicity in war crimes and crimes against humanity every day for the last 10 months."

Rutgers Law professor Adil Haque observed, "The rest of the world has spent the last 10 months defending international humanitarian law from us."

Qasim Rashid, also a human rights lawyer, said, "An actual commitment to respecting international humanitarian law would mean you stop funding [Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin] Netanyahu as he commits genocide of Palestinians."

Institute for Middle East Understanding Policy Project policy director Josh Ruebner responded to a separate message that Blinken had posted on the State Department website.

"Nope, Secretary Blinken," Ruebner wrote on social media. "You don't get to praise the Geneva Conventions when you're rushing weapons to Israel to enable it to violate almost every single clause in the convention as it continues to inflict genocidal violence against Palestinians in Gaza."