#Smart Gate Solutions

[secureindiaofficial]

Telescopic Sliding Gates | Automatic & Industrial Gate Systems by Secure...

[lifestyleblogeruk]

Enhancing Security and Convenience: Upgrading Your Automatic Gate with Repairs

An automatic gate provides a valuable layer of security and convenience for your property, whether it's a residential or commercial space. However, like any mechanical system, automatic gates require regular maintenance and occasional repairs to ensure optimal performance and extend their lifespan. In this blog, we will explore how upgrading your automatic gate with repairs can enhance both security and convenience.

1. Strengthening Security:

A properly functioning automatic gate serves as a strong deterrent to potential intruders and unauthorized access. Upgrading your gate with timely repairs ensures that all security features are in optimal working condition. From gate sensors and intercom systems to access control mechanisms, each component plays a crucial role in safeguarding your property.

Repair and Calibration of Gate Sensors: Gate sensors are essential for detecting movement and preventing the gate from closing on objects or people. Regular repairs and calibration of these sensors ensure accurate detection, minimizing the risk of accidents and damage.

Intercom and Access Control Repairs: A malfunctioning intercom or access control system can compromise the security of your property. Upgrading and repairing these communication features enable smooth and secure entry for authorized personnel while denying access to unauthorized individuals.

Enhancing Convenience:

An automatic gate enhances the convenience of accessing your property. Upgrading your gate with repairs ensures that it operates smoothly and consistently, providing a seamless experience for residents, employees, or visitors.

Gate Motor and Operator Repairs: The gate motor and operator are the heart of an automatic gate system. Regular repairs and maintenance of these components ensure reliable gate operation, reducing the risk of unexpected breakdowns and inconveniences.

Remote Control and Mobile App Repairs: Modern automatic gates often come with remote controls or mobile apps for easy operation. Repairing and upgrading these features allow for convenient gate control from the comfort of your vehicle or smartphone.

3. Extending Lifespan:

Routine repairs and proactive maintenance are essential to extend the lifespan of your automatic gate. Upgrading worn-out or damaged components ensures that your gate operates optimally, reducing the risk of costly replacements in the future.

Gate Track and Roller Repairs: The gate track and rollers are subjected to constant stress from frequent opening and closing. Upgrading and repairing these components prevent gate misalignment and reduce wear and tear, prolonging the gate's lifespan.

Weatherproofing and Rust Protection: Weather conditions and rust can take a toll on the gate's structural integrity. Repairs and upgrades involving weatherproofing and rust protection measures preserve the gate's appearance and functionality, especially in harsh environments.

In conclusion, upgrading your automatic gate with repairs not only enhances security but also boosts convenience and extends the gate's lifespan. To ensure these benefits, it is advisable to seek professional assistance from experienced automatic gate repair specialists. Regular maintenance and timely repairs will keep your gate operating at its best, providing you with enhanced security and ease of access for years to come. Remember, a well-maintained automatic gate is an investment that pays off in terms of safety, convenience, and peace of mind.

[parkomax]

Entry Parking Terminals: Seamless Access Control for Modern Parking Facilities

Streamline Vehicle Access with Smart Entry Parking Terminals

Efficiency and convenience are key drivers of customer satisfaction, especially in parking facilities. Whether it's a commercial building, a residential complex, a shopping mall, or an airport, managing the flow of vehicles effectively at entry points is crucial. That’s where entry parking terminals play a transformative role.

At Parkomax, we offer advanced entry terminals that serve as the first touchpoint in any automated parking management system, delivering secure, smooth, and scalable vehicle entry solutions.

What are Entry Parking Terminals?

Entry parking terminals are automated devices installed at the entry gates of parking lots or structures. These terminals control access by authenticating vehicles or drivers using a variety of technologies such as:

RFID cards or tags

QR/barcode tickets

License plate recognition (ANPR)

Mobile app-based entry

Contactless payment or ID scanning

Once validated, the system automatically lifts the barrier gate or boom barrier, allowing authorised access into the premises.

Key Features of Smart Entry Parking Terminals

Modern parking entry terminals go beyond basic gate control. Parkomax’s entry terminals are equipped with smart features that redefine access management:

Touchless Entry Options: Supports QR code scanners, RFID, ANPR, and mobile app integrations for a hygienic and quick access experience.

High-speed Processing: Reduces wait times and queues, especially during peak hours.

Custom Display Panels: Real-time instructions, branding, and promotional content can be displayed.

Integrated Ticket Issuance: For ticket-based systems, terminals automatically issue barcode or RFID-enabled tickets upon vehicle entry.

Data Logging: Every vehicle entry is logged with a timestamp, user ID, and image (if needed), enhancing security and traceability.

Durable Build: Weather-resistant, vandal-proof design ensures reliability in all environments.

Applications of Entry Parking Terminals

Entry terminals are ideal for a wide variety of properties and use-cases:

Commercial Buildings & Offices: Manage employee and visitor vehicle entries efficiently with automated ID-based access.

Shopping Malls & Retail Centers: Enable a fast and intuitive parking experience that improves visitor satisfaction.

Residential Communities: Enhance safety with restricted access based on vehicle authorisation.

Hospitals & Educational Institutions: Control traffic and prevent congestion while maintaining high security standards.

Airports & Transport Hubs: Provide long and short-term parking access with dynamic integration into booking systems.

Benefits of Using Entry Terminals in Parking Facilities

By deploying smart vehicle entry terminals, operators and property owners can unlock multiple benefits:

Faster Entry & Reduced Congestion: Automated authentication processes minimise entry delays, ensuring smooth vehicle flow even during busy periods.

Enhanced Security: Access is restricted to authorised vehicles only, with real-time monitoring and data logging for added security and audit purposes.

Cost Efficiency: Reduces the need for manual supervision, cutting labor costs while improving operational reliability.

Better User Experience: Touchless and fast access options enhance customer satisfaction, especially in high-traffic environments.

Real-time Monitoring & Analytics: Integrates with centralised parking management software for live tracking, usage insights, and operational decision-making.

Why Choose Parkomax Entry Parking Terminals?

Parkomax combines the latest technology with user-centric design to offer entry terminals that align with the needs of modern infrastructure. Our terminals are:

Fully compatible with ticket-based and ticketless parking systems

Easily integrable with barriers, payment kiosks, and guidance systems

Customisable to match your branding and operational workflows

Backed by expert support and local service availability

Whether you're upgrading an existing parking system or building one from the ground up, our entry terminals offer a scalable and secure solution tailored to your requirements.

Smarter Access, Seamless Parking Experience

Entry parking terminals are the gateway to a smarter, safer, and more efficient parking experience. By automating and optimising vehicle access, they help property managers enhance security, reduce costs, and provide seamless access to tenants, employees, and visitors.

Discover how Parkomax can enhance your entry process with advanced parking terminals. Explore Parkomax Entry Terminals

[teamvisual]

[nordicimpactweek]

Future CleanTech Smart Cities by Lars Ling Via Flickr: Absolutely mind-blowing event at K&L Gates lawfirm with the best views in San Francisco. Great presentations about the Future of CleanTech and Smart Cities. Thank you all involved, K&L Gates hosting, participants, partners and SOCAP. Follow us on Instagram www.instagram.com/nordicimpact/ Nordic Impact Week bridges Silicon Valley with the Nordic-Baltics for networking and business growth, join. linktr.ee/nordicimpact We have built a special program around SOCAP, Social Capital Markets. socapglobal.com/ For information about CleanTech & Impact Solutions Solving our Climate Challenges Please connect with us for more information and help. linktr.ee/cleantechregion hello@cleantechregion.com +46 72 740 66 06 Powered and organized by; Cleantech Region Impact Group, London, UK. Photo and video credit: Lars Ling linktr.ee/larsling All rights reserved (c) copyright

[rakesh-snike]

Elevator Designing Company in Dombivli

Elevate your building's elegance with our top-rated elevator designing company in Dombivali.Rohit elevator customized solutions to seamlessly integrate style and functionality in your vertical transportation needs.

[thirdeye-ai]

Smart Gate & ANPR Solutions

Unlocking seamless security and efficiency, our Smart Gate & ANPR Solutions integrate cutting-edge technology. With real-time object detection, image processing, OCR, smart parking management, and vehicle tracking, we redefine access control and surveillance. Experience enhanced security and streamlined operations in residential, commercial, and industrial settings. Trust our innovative solution to elevate your security infrastructure to new heights.

[ryuzakemo128]

MDNI 18+ Omegaverse Part 2

Part One

Note: Big things happens in this continuation.

word count: 1542

Omegaverse Parts: Part One + Part Two + Part Three + Part Four

Masterlist

Ghost still remembered how you were standing on top of the building when you shot the tracking bullet into his shoulder. You didn’t aim to kill, maim? Sure. You don’t take lives. You just run from others and keep them tagged for as long as possible to know where they would be. You didn’t care if they were special operatives or the Queen of fucking England. No one had the right to have you or own you. Ever. 

“I still remember how Price thought you were seeing things.” Soap snickered, “I still can’t believe it.”

“Well, whatever it is, just produced a strong smell of vinegar and my nose is hurting.” Gaz complained, whined, even. Your makeshift solution is working to your advantage. Even if it's drowning your dirty, grimy baggy clothes under hot water and white vinegar. They’ll end up trying again quite soon.

As you got changed into clean clothes, your naked body came into the view of the door window. Which to Soap? It was like he hit the fucking jackpot. Watching you pull on medical scrubs. Soap saw your back tattoo, “The gates of hell are open night and day; Smooth the descent, and easy is the way: But to return, and view the cheerful skies, In this the task and mighty labour lies.”

Soap yanked Price over to take a look at your tattoo. His hunch told him something, you weren’t just anyone, and you weren’t just a random omega the General wanted to contain. “I don’t think we know nearly as much about her as we think we do.” Soap told him, dragging him to the window and shoving the binoculars into Price’s hands. 

Gaz remembered your herbal cigarettes, the lavender burning and how Price would try to scold you for your habit. “And what? Leave you smoked up like a bastard in heat or somethin?” you told Price. Breathing lavender scented smoke into Price’s facial direction. Dodging his attempts to snatch the cigarette from you.

Price, at the time, growled, “What is with you? You’re slipperier than a greased-up pig at a county fair, and more elusive than the fucking Loch Ness monster.” The spunk you had before? Increased tenfold. 

“Look at you, tripping over yourselves still, fucking alphas who can’t track for shit huh?” you taunted with your walkie-talkie you found in the office. “Round And Round It Goes... Where It Stops, Nobody Knows. Round and round you go, when will I stop? Nobody knows.” 

You grabbed your stuff, and you left really fast, “Tell your mother I’ll fuck her soon.” you spoke into the walkie-talkie. 

“We’ve got to get to her before she’s gone. She’s a fucking ghost, we’ve been tracking her for months, and she’s always one step ahead of us. This might be our only chance before she disappears again.” Price told them. Soap was too distracted by the fact you flash banged him with your gorgeous fucking tits. 

Which Price had to admit? A smart thing to do when you’re dealing with four hungry, aroused alphas on your tail. Your tits were a flash beacon even after you headed out of the room with your gear. The limping of your leg and once soap has you in his grasp again? He wouldn’t let you go again. 

Crawling through the ventilator shaft, until you were dragged out by your feet by someone strong enough to get you out of there, and his deep voice hitting the base of your skull like a drum. 

Dragging you from the vent, one swift tug at a time. Before long, you were carried over to Price and Ghost. With Gaz stalking right behind him, intensely staring at you from behind Soap. He had you draped over his right shoulder and your belongings in his other hand. While Gaz carried your sniper and bone knife. 

Once Price taken a closer look at you, removing your shirt and replacing it with a clean, warm, dry shirt. As Price looked for one suitable. 

Soap’s eyes widened as he recognised the tattoo. He’s seen it once before. It’s an incredibly specific tattoo. Only one person he knew of had it. Someone who was thought to be dead. Yet here you were. Very much…..alive. Running around like a scared rabbit. Soap’s heart is racing. 

He knew you weren’t going to go with them quietly. Not with that tattoo.

“Guys, I think we might have stumbled upon someone important, she’s not what we thought she was.” Soap whispered to Ghost outside the medical examination room. 

Ghost looked at Soap sceptically, “What do you mean, Mactavish?”

Soap took a deep breath, trying to keep his voice calm, “The tattoo on her back. It’s not from a book, it’s from a person. The person who had it is... or was... a legend around these parts.” He paused, his eyes searching the room as if he could see through the walls. “Her callsign was Venom, one of the best snipers the military had, until she disappeared. She was thought to be dead after her last mission, but if this is her... she’s been hiding here all along.”

Price’s eyes narrowed as he digested the information. “Venom? That’s a name I’ve heard before. If she’s who you think she is, then she’s worth more than gold to Shepherd. We can’t let her go.” He turned to Gaz, his voice low and commanding. “Keep an eye on the exits, she’s clever. We don’t want her slipping away again.”

Still processing the information, his gaze sharp and calculating. “If that’s true, then we might have a bigger problem on our hands. Get a clearer visual, Soap, and make sure it’s her. We don’t want to spook her before we get a good look at her face and confirm her identity.”

Soap nodded, his eyes glued to the small window in the door of the medical examination room. “On it, boss.” He whispered back, his heart racing with excitement and a hint of fear. Venom was a legend, known for her sharp-shooting skills and unyielding spirit. If she had indeed survived, she would be a powerful ally or a formidable enemy.

Then she would be you, wouldn’t you? When he saw your face? Soap held the new photo with the one they have. They were a perfect match. You were indeed ‘Venom’. A legend from their annals of history straight into his sight. 

He felt his cock thicken, a growling in his chest, his animalistic instincts were now coming to the forefront.

“It’s her, boss. No doubt about it. She’s Venom. I’ve seen that tattoo before, on the back of the woman who trained me.” Soap said with a mix of awe and fear. “I don’t think anyone is crazy enough to be out here for this long. 

Price's eyebrows furrowed, “Venom… I thought she was dead. General Shepherd killed her.”

“So did everyone else,” Soap replied, “But she's very much alive, and she's in heat. We need to handle this with care. She's not going to come quietly. Or willingly for that matter.”

Price nodded in understanding, his mind racing with the implications of this revelation.“Alright, keep an eye on her. She's a ghost for a reason.” He turned to Ghost, “What do we know about her other than that she's a damn good shot?”

Ghost's eyes narrowed as he recalled the intel he had read, “Venom went dark after her last mission. Rumour has it she took out a high-value target that was off-limits. Her disappearance was sudden, and her file was sealed tighter than a drum. If she's the one in there, she's got a vendetta with someone or something, and it's not us.”

“But she's in heat,” Gaz pointed out, his voice thick with the same primal need Soap had felt earlier. “That….. That changes things completely.”

Ghost nodded, his voice a low rumble, “It does. She'll be more… vulnerable. Hesitant to trust.”

“Vulnerable or not,” Soap said, “We can't just barge in there. We need to earn her trust”

“But how? She’s not going to listen, and she’s stubborn like Price.” Gaz said, stroking his jaw, contemplating their next move.

“You’ve been out here the entire time?” Price asked you, both in awe, frustration and a little admiration in his tone. “You’ve been living out here alone all this time?”

“You make it sound far harder than it actually is. Did General Shepherd let you think that, or are you really that stupid enough to think it?” you answered. “With the right kind of knowledge, you can go far and wide. Took out the tracker from my neck, day one, surprised you pups are still working for that bitch.” 

General Shepherd. You were at odds with him from the sound of things. Whether that was a good thing or not? Another thing entirely. Another thing which now had to wait until they had you removed from this ancient building. Regardless of whether you wanted to leave it or not.

“So are you workin for him or what?” you growled. 

“That’s none of your fucken business.” Price snarled at you.

“I think it is and you’re going to tell me regardless of what you think or how you feel about it too.”

[ll7esxs]

hmm what about enemies to lovers w/ Kick? Kind of going along with the head cannons you made of why they don’t like you. Sorry if it’s not much, I fear that’s the best my mind can make up 😔

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎 ˚｡⋆♡༘˚ ❀ੈ♡˳───────𖤐˚︵︵˚𖤐───────♡ੈ❀

✧ 𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐋𝐄: Enemies to lovers with kick ✧ 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐌: Call of Duty Ghosts ✧ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒: Kick ✧ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Character X G!N! reader! ✧ 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄: Slow burn, enemies to lovers ✧ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Verbal conflict, emotional tension, enemies-to-lovers dynamic ✧ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 4030

The First Meet

You were former field intel—trained, tested, and hardened. Sharp in both strategy and aim. When they assigned you to dual-capable support, it wasn’t a promotion, it was a need. A solution. Someone who could bridge both ends of the op.

The assignment to the Ghosts' station wasn’t by your request. It was abrupt, high-priority. They didn’t want just anyone—they needed someone who could run comms, decrypt under pressure, and still hit targets without hesitation. That someone was you.

You walk into the base’s comms bay for the first time. The air is cool, the low hum of screens buzzing. You crack the door open slightly, not wanting to interrupt.

He’s there—locked in, eyes narrowed, sharp brows drawn in deep concentration. He doesn’t even glance your way. Maybe didn’t hear you. Maybe he did, and just didn’t care.

But from that first glimpse, you could already tell: he’s the type who doesn’t waste focus. And now, you were stepping into his world.

He doesn’t look up when you walk in. Voice low, flat, and laced with sarcasm: “If you’re delivering coffee, make it strong. If not, I need some cigarettes.”

You glance sideways, unimpressed but unmoved. Cool and composed. “I’m your new handler for recon data.”

That’s when he pauses. Eyes lift to meet yours.

Amber—no, gold, almost glowing under the wash of the screen light. A fleeting moment of surprise flashes across his face, subtle but there.

“Oh. Good,” he says, finally leaning back in his chair, tone dry as ever. “Try not to fry my drive like the last guy did.”

You arch a brow. The game had begun—and clearly, this wasn’t going to be a quiet assignment.

You didn’t flinch. Just crossed your arms and replied coolly, “Not here to babysit any driver. Just to make sure you don’t brick the mission while you're being clever.”

That was it—the spark. The gate to the classic enemies-to-lovers chaos creaked open right then and there.

He didn’t hate you, no. But damn, did he dislike you. The attitude, the sharp tongue, the way you came in like you already had the place mapped. Kick couldn’t stand people who came off too smart, too fast. Especially ones who mirrored his own bite.

He paused, your words hanging in the air, then sighed—lips twitching into a slow, amused smile. He stood, gaze leveled, one brow raised. “What did you just say to me?”

You didn’t back down. “Well, Kick, I’ve heard what you did when you first—”

He cut you off with a scoff, “Yeah, did. And what is it? ‘Bygones be bygones’? English not your first language or somethin’?”

That was the first round. A volley of sharp words and stubborn faces. Neither of you backed off—and maybe that’s exactly why it started to matter.

The Tension Builds

Week one? It’s a cold war dressed as teamwork.

You deliver your part of the job—clean, precise. He mocks you with nothing but a look, that infuriating half-lidded stare like he's already picked apart everything you've done. You feel it.

He delivers next—and you critique, straight-faced, surgical with your words. Every joint task turns into a quiet, brutal game of chess.

When you double-check his system patch before a field op, he doesn’t argue. Just shrugs, clicks a few keys, and redoes it. Not because he cares—no. But to let you know he really doesn’t care.

Later, during a mission brief, you silently reach into his routing code and correct it mid-scan. Not flashy. Not even out loud. Just enough to keep the op running clean.

Hours later, when the tension is finally dying down, his voice cuts in behind you—low, even: “I thought I told you not to touch the codes I work on again.”

You don’t even turn around. You’re trying to enjoy what little peace you’ve got.

With a sigh, you reply, “It’s my job too. What if the data report was filled with fake intel?”

There’s a pause. And behind you, you swear you hear the smallest scoff of approval—buried in annoyance.

Yeah. Cold war. For now.

Kick isn’t the type to beef. He doesn’t waste time on ego games—too seasoned, too practical. If it doesn't serve the mission, it’s noise.

So after that first week of sparks and code edits, the tension just… fizzles. Not into warmth, not yet—but into mutual exhaustion. You both have work to do, and not enough energy to keep clashing.

The coldest thing he does is withhold. Support, emotion, any trace of personal investment—he keeps it all sealed behind that quiet, unreadable calm.

And because you're both adults, professionals, and frankly too tired to keep drawing battle lines, it just... levels out.

One evening, over systems check, he says it offhand while typing: “Didn’t think I’d meet someone here who could keep up. You’re not half bad.”

It catches you off guard. You look over, blinking. “You either…”

No smile. No softness. But it lands different. Not flirty. Not dramatic. Just… respect, finally cracked open.

After that, the silence shifts. Not cold anymore—charged. You feel him watching during ops. Long glances. Nothing said.

Kick doesn’t fall fast. He fights it, like it’s some mission breach.

But you got under his skin. And he’s not used to bleeding quietly.

The quiet understanding? Gone. Work’s tense now—not personal, but pressure-cooked from the mission load.

Kick’s hunched over the relay case, calibrating for the infiltration op. You spot a flicker—diagnostic lag. Instinct kicks in. You override part of the setup without asking.

His jaw tightens instantly.

“What the hell are you doing?”

You don’t back down.

“Fixing what you missed. You forgot to compensate for the static backflow on the east relay. If I hadn’t—”

“If?” he cuts in, voice sharper now, “You wanna bet comms failing mid-op on your name? Because I don’t.”

He snatches the cable from your hand. You don’t flinch.

“I’ve pulled people out of worse with a busted mic and a bent antenna. You don’t get to lecture me like I’m green.”

That’s the crack. The voice raises. The weight of the job pressing down.

His reply is low, clipped:

“Then stop acting like it. You want this job or a pissing contest?”

It hangs in the air. Both of you glaring, hearts racing—not because of each other, but because everything around you is too much.

The tension erasing slowly

You and Kick were on the same field support op. You were almost pinned in crossfire during retreat — and he didn't loop your comm in time.

When it’s over, you're walking back into the safehouse. He’s trying to defuse it with nothing.

Inside, Kick’s already ditched his vest, silent as ever. When you step in, he looks up only briefly and mutters: “Good to see you alive.”

It’s stiff. Distant. Not like him—not after months of working together, knowing each other’s tones, silences, everything.

You pause. Then exhale with a dry, tired smile, eyes half-lidded like sleep was dragging you down where you stood. “I think if I had gone down, you’d still be making jokes about it.”

He doesn’t answer right away. You finally lift your gaze to his—and for once, it’s not guarded.

Just worn. Jaw tight. Guilt sitting somewhere behind those amber eyes.

It hits. Hard. You can see it in his eyes—no snark, no defensive walls. Just a raw, quiet thing that makes the whole room feel smaller.

Kick doesn’t say anything, but that look of his? It’s a heavy one. Like it’s all falling into place—things he doesn’t want to admit.

“Oh man…” he mutters, eyes narrowing, face still as stone. “Can’t believe you. After months of working and enduring my asshole behaviors, you now think I don’t care if you die? I thought you were good at reading people.”

You tilt your head, something sharp flickering behind your eyes. You step closer, voice steady but cutting: “I think you care more about being right than being reliable.”

The words sting. You see the tension coil in his shoulders, but he doesn’t back down. Instead, he lets out a low chuckle, though it’s tight. “You really know how to make a guy want to punch drywall, you know that?”

You can’t help it. You chuckle too—half tired, half bitter, but there’s something else there too. Maybe relief. “And yet you’re still standing here.”

For a moment, the air is thick. Neither of you makes a move, just standing there, locked in a silent tug-of-war.

Kick’s gaze softens for a brief moment—something you’ve never seen before, not from him. A flicker of warmth, quickly buried beneath that hard exterior.

He doesn’t say much, just that small, almost begrudging smile tugging at the corner of his lips. And then, the words come, slow and heavy like he’s not sure he even believes them himself. “You did good, Y/N... And don’t make me regret saying it again.”

You don’t respond. You’re too tired, too caught off guard by the rare glimpse of approval to even form the words.

He doesn’t wait for your reply. He just turns and walks out, leaving you standing there, staring after him as the door closes.

You shake your head with a quiet exhale. It’s not the apology you expected. It’s not the comfort you wanted. But maybe... maybe it’s enough.

Well, he’s not that bad.

You don’t know how long you stand there, but when you finally leave the room, the weight of the mission and the weight of what’s been said still hangs in the air. Neither one of you has said the things that need saying, but for once, you both understand.

After that moment, everything between you and Kick shifts. It’s not obvious—no sudden confessions or grand gestures. It’s in the quiet, the moments when the tension between you both starts to loosen just a little, bit by bit.

You find yourself slipping into conversations with him that you never thought you’d have. No more sharp words or unspoken grudges. Just... talking. Just being.

And you start noticing things. Small things. The way his gaze lingers for a moment longer than usual. The soft exhale he lets out when he’s finally out of a mission zone, or when his eyes catch yours unexpectedly. It’s almost like he’s letting you in without even realizing it.

One night, the conversation shifts. You’re sitting in the mess hall, the low hum of conversation around you, but the two of you are lost in your own little world.

You catch yourself asking, voice softer than you expect: “You ever get tired of this? The waiting. The quiet. The silence just before it all goes to hell?”

Kick’s brows furrow, a rare sign of uncertainty, as he thinks about the question. The silence stretches, and you wonder if you’ve asked something too deep.

Finally, he answers, voice low and steady: “Sometimes. But not right now.”

You don’t say anything after that. You just let the quiet settle in, the unspoken weight of his words lingering between you both. He’s not exactly opening up, but he’s still here. Present. And that, for now, is enough.

Kick’s the kind of guy who doesn’t let silence last too long. He’ll fill it with something—anything—to break the tension. Whether it’s rambling about the latest op or ranting about some random thing that’s bothering him, he’s always got something to say.

And you get used to it, the way his voice cuts through the quiet, his words bouncing off the walls, pulling you into his world. It’s just who he is, a talker at heart.

But there’s something else you notice too, something that shifts over time. You’re sitting together one evening, the air thick with unspoken words. Kick leans back, hand instinctively reaching for a cigarette, but before he lights it, he looks over at you.

“See? You’re not bad when you don’t smoke.”

You say it lightly, but you know there’s a part of him that’s changed. That used to be a constant, the cigarette, the smoke curling around him like a shield. But now, with you? He’s different.

Kick just shrugs, a half-smirk tugging at his lips, that familiar glint in his eyes. “Oh yeah? Don’t get used to it.”

And maybe, just maybe, you do get used to it. The way he’s shifting, the way he’s adapting, even if he won’t admit it. It’s not about the smoking anymore. It’s about him—about how he's willing to change little things for you, even if he won’t fully acknowledge it.

You’ve never been one to fish for validation. It’s not your style. But when Kick starts running his mouth—those familiar lines about things being “too easy” or “not challenging enough”—it’s hard not to notice the pattern. It starts sounding like a broken record, and you can't help but wonder if there's a part of him trying to convince himself more than anyone else.

You catch him in the middle of one of his rants, watching him as he struggles just a little—nothing big, but enough to make you think. It’s like he’s pretending not to feel the weight of it all.

You can’t help but tease him, leaning in just enough to throw him off balance with a suggestion: “If you need something, just ask, alright? I can... run a search, or fix something.”

He just glances at you, barely pausing from his task, a shrug in his voice as he responds: “Well, yeah. I’m good, thanks.”

You shake your head, about to head back to your own work, but something pulls you back to him, that nagging feeling that he won’t admit it even when he needs help.

“I mean, you could use someone to keep up with you.”

For the first time, there's a pause. Then, he looks up at you with a small smirk tugging at his lips. “Yeah? Guess you’re stronger than I thought.”

It’s said lightly, but you both know it means something more than just a casual comment. Something shifts in the air, a quiet acknowledgment between you two. And for a second, it feels like the walls between you are a little thinner.

When it broke all

You're now sitting in front of Kick, the room dim and quiet after the medic left. Just the two of you now, a low hum from some overhead light filling the silence. He’d been patched up — nothing too crazy, but still enough to make you wince when you looked at him. Scrapes, bruises, a stitched gash or two. The usual. His job was always messy like that. Being a tech specialist didn’t mean he got to sit behind a desk — more like crawling through collapsed buildings or trying to hack a terminal while bullets flew past his head.

You watched him breathe for a second. Still alive. Still stubborn. And then, you broke the silence.

“You know, at some point,” you said, pulling your legs up a little, “you’ll run out of places to get shot.”

He tilted his head toward you with a lazy half-smirk. “Then I’ll finally be symmetrical. Bonus.”

You didn’t smile. Not exactly. But something softened in your face. Maybe your eyes stayed on him a second too long. Long enough for him to notice, anyway. His smirk didn’t fade, but it quieted.

You reached over to the medkit sitting beside you, flipping it open with one hand, fingers sorting through gauze and antiseptic pads. You pulled out what you needed and glanced at him — a look that said, "May I?"

He just gave a slow nod, the kind he gave when words weren’t worth the effort. So you moved in closer, Your hands, still chilled from the metal table, met warm skin just below where the bandage ended. He stiffened. Just barely — the kind of flinch someone doesn’t mean to make.

“Sorry,” you murmured, not sure if you were apologizing for the cold or the closeness. Maybe both.

You leaned in a bit more, just slightly, head dipping down for a better angle. It wasn’t anything romantic — not intentionally — just practical. Close work meant being close. That’s all. But still, you could feel the space between you shrink. His breath slowed. You didn’t say anything about it, just started cleaning the wound, your touch careful.

He didn’t joke this time. Didn’t move. Just sat there, letting you patch him up again like he always did.

And you… you stayed right there, pretending your hands didn’t tremble a little as they brushed across the side of someone you were trying way too hard not to care about.

“From what I’ve heard,” you say quietly, eyes still on the angry red line across his skin, “the Federation had your photo on a kill list.”

He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t blink. But something shifts in his eyes — a flicker, like a match catching fire for a split second before going dark again. He looks at you then, not startled, not angry. Just... watching. Like he’s trying to read between your words, see what you’re really asking.

Kick’s voice comes out low, dry, like gravel under boots. “Yeah. I figured someone would’ve mentioned that.”

You don’t meet his gaze. Your hands keep working, steady and careful, cleaning the edge of the wound like it’s just another scrape on just another day. But the silence between your words carries weight.

“Doesn’t mean you stop being careful,” you mutter, not accusing, not gentle either — just honest.

His chest rises slowly under your fingers. A long breath in. He’s not the type to make promises. You both know that. But maybe that wasn’t what you were asking for.

Maybe you just wanted him to understand that someone is still watching, still keeping track of where he bleeds.

And maybe, just maybe, he already does.

“You knew. About the list.” His voice was low, like he was talking more to himself than to you. “And you’re still with me. Others would just be scared shitless for their lives.”

He said it like it didn’t matter — like it rolled off him easy. But it didn’t. You could hear the way he tried to bury the edge in his tone, how he made it a statement instead of a question just so he didn’t sound like he needed the answer.

You kept your eyes on his chest, still dabbing at the edge of the wound, slow and steady. The smell of antiseptic filled the air between you, sharp and clean.

“I’m your second on field,” you said simply. “I don’t abandon people mid-mission.”

A pause. The kind that stretched just long enough for him to maybe say something, but he didn’t. So you did.

Softer this time. Almost quiet enough to be missed if he wasn’t already listening.

“And you’re not just anyone out there.”

His breath caught — just a little. And your hand stayed right where it was, resting lightly against his chest, waiting.

Neither of you moved.

You don’t even realize how close you are until the air between you starts to feel thinner, heavier — like breathing takes just a little more effort now. Like something’s shifted and neither of you wants to name it.

Then his hand grazes your waist. Just that — a brush of skin, rough calluses against your ribs.

There’s no dramatic moment, no sharp inhale or trembling gasp. Just stillness. A long, weighty kind of silence where your eyes find his — and stay there.

You glance down, almost unsure, to where his fingers now rest gently against your waist. His hand, worn and scarred from years in the field, strong and steady, holding you like something fragile. Your eyes lift back to his, and there’s a quiet frown between your brows, your lips slightly parted, voice barely a breath.

“…Kick…”

But he’s already watching you. Expecting you. Like he knew this moment would come, he’d just been waiting for it to land.

“Yes, love.”

And then he leans in. Not reckless, not urgent. Just slow. Careful. Like he’s giving you every chance to stop him — but you don’t.

You don’t step back. You just meet him halfway.

The kiss isn’t soft, but it’s not rushed either. There’s no hesitation in it, only weight — the weight of everything unsaid, everything felt but never spoken. It’s steady. Grounded. Like both of you had been carrying something too heavy for too long, and now, just for this moment, you’ve found somewhere to set it down.

You stay there — not in a rush to pull away. Because this… this was never about timing.

The first kiss might’ve been steady — a question asked in silence — but the second… the second burns.

You don’t know who moved first, maybe it was both of you at once, but suddenly it’s not careful anymore. It’s need — sharp and unspoken — rushing in like a tide neither of you can stop.

You slip your hands up around his neck, fingers curling at the nape, holding on like you’re afraid letting go will break whatever this is. His hands find your waist, rough and certain, pulling you closer — close enough to feel his heartbeat, fast and hard against your chest.

Your mouths find each other again, this time deeper, messier, hungrier. The kind of kiss that doesn’t ask for permission anymore — it just takes. There’s heat in it now, in the way his lips press against yours, in the low, raw grunt he lets out when your nails brush against the back of his neck.

Both of you have your eyes shut, not needing to see when you can feel everything. The tension, the years of pretending, the battlefield closeness that’s finally collapsed in on itself — it’s all there, pressed between you.

And in that breathless space, nothing else exists. Not the mission. Not the kill list. Not the war outside the door.

Just you and Kick — two people who’ve seen too much, lost too much — finally letting themselves want something. Even just for a minute.

You both pulled back from the kiss, breathing a little uneven, like the air had changed shape around you and neither of you were quite ready to speak yet. The space between you hummed, charged and warm, and for a second, all you could do was look at him.

Then you smiled, crooked and knowing. “I just… I know it’s not your first time, Kick.”

He raised a brow at you “Damn. You got me. I was gonna ask if you’d sign my yearbook,” he said, deadpan, like the two of you were in some high school hallway instead of a half-lit room that still smelled like antiseptic and smoke.

You snorted. Just a little. But it slipped out, and he caught it.

He leaned back, still perched on the cot, watching you like you were the most interesting thing in the room. Which, let’s be honest, you were.

“So?” he asked, half-teasing. “Was it at least top five?”

You gave him a look, unimpressed but amused. “It was fine.”

“Fine? Fine?” His voice pitched up, full mock quite outrage. “You gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“You had a mild concussion and at least two broken ribs,” you replied, already turning toward the door. “I figured you deserved a morale boost.”

He grinned — smug, even through the wince of pain when he shifted. “Guess I’ll have to earn a real one next time.”

You didn’t answer.

But the silence you left behind wasn’t cold. It wasn’t awkward. It was filled with something heavier — certainty. The kind that didn’t need words, didn’t need to be spelled out.

You paused at the door, hand resting on the frame, and glanced back over your shoulder.

“And for the record,” you said, eyes flicking to his, “top five is generous.”

“Top three,” he called after you, smug as hell. “Don’t lie to yourself!”

You were gone before he saw the smile tug at your lips — that twitch you tried to suppress and failed miserably at.

And Kick leaned back, wincing at his ribs, a hand resting lazily across his chest, still smirking like he’d just won something.

Not bad for a first kiss under fire.

[justporo]

Astarion making use of his skills to help Wyll

Shamelessly using this for an original post because I like the idea too much! Spoilers ahead, be warned!

So, as this post imagined (and thanks for @daedriclys for tagging me):

What if Astarion just went "ahem, I'd actually like to take a look at this legal document, thank you very much!" and went to help Wyll with his contract by Mizora.

I'd love to see how Astarion would take the opportunity to do something good for someone else because personal growth and redemption. Also this fucking devil can eat shit, Astarion's tired of people being forced into slavery.

So he fiercly interrupts and demands that Wyll will have at least a day to review the contract and when Mizora agrees through gritted teeth, the party gets to work: Astarion admits that he might be a little rusty and that he was shit at his job back then, but he's dead set on making this one thing right. (Also we know he knows history, so I feel it's not hard to imagine him being a bit scholarly and enjoying to learn things and figure stuff out - also he is smart!)

So he drags the whole party to where he knows is a Law library in Baldur's Gate and tries to find out everything on these kinds of contracts. He goes over the contract again and again trying to find ways out for Wyll while everyone else has turned into his research assistants (Gale is obviously his lead researcher because that man knows his way around a library). ("No, Karlach, it's 'pacta sunt servanda', spelled p-a-c-t-ugh, you know what, please let someone help you with looking for it!")

They spend the whole 24 hours to work out the best possible solution and when Mizora comes back her jaw is on the floor because not only did her plan not work, Astarion got Wyll some compensation and a severance-package worked out and might even sue. Also Astarion reads out every single term and condition and exactly decodes why it is shitty and wrong and why the wording could have used some work, all in his sassy little tone - while Mizora is fuming, but she has to listen to it, because formalities will have it that way.

And Astarion might play it down afterwards for just liking the challenge but he's actually so happy he could actually use his specific knowledge to help someone - and kinda remedy some of his past wrongdoings.

[heartfeltletters-written]

[analysis] the school system in fourth wing

I've decided to reread fourth wing and I have questions and theories that I need to share with my corner of the internet.

This post will include an in-depth (i hope) analysis on the war school system in fourth wing and how all that ties into the country's politics.

a rant no one asked for:

The thousands of twenty-year-olds waiting outside the gate to enter their chosen quadrant for service are the smartest and strongest in Navarre.

First and foremost only the smartest and strongest enter in Basgiath, which implies that this War college is the elite of the elites. There must be thousands of students who never pass the tests, which also begs my first question: where do these failed students go?

The easiest scenario is if Basgiath is the only college in the continent (which for such a big continent seems like a poor choice) does it mean that you either pass the exams or you don't get to continue your education? Ever?

That would prevent a high number of people of getting superior education and acess to knowledge, which is exactly what a fascist regime would do. However the author paints the government as being possible to be reckoned with.

Our main characters negotiate with them over and over again about various aspects, which in my opinion doesn't sound totalitarian to me. It's true that they killed hundreads of people for trying to rebel, which DOES sound facist to me, but during the ongoing canon events they seem like a different government altogether. To me a totalitarian force doesn't negotiate and the only way to end it is to break it. There can be no space for tyranny, or for oppression, and the only way to assure that is to rip its roots, not by negotiating.

But for the sake of everyone's sanity let's ignore that for now, Basgiath wants Navarrian citizens to think "you'll only be sucessful if you go to the military". And they drive their point even further when they reduce the entrance to candidates who are the smartest and strongest. Again to be a part of the elite is anyone's dream come true.

There's also other incentives. We know they promise good pay: Dylan, the guy who dies on the parapet, says "I keep telling her [my mother] that I’ll have better chances for advancement as a rider,". For struggling families Basgiath may seem the only solution, and isn't the King so kind to give good financial compensations to those who decide to fight for their country's honor. The higher the risk, the higher the reward. We also know that this is a matter of pride, just as in the real world when you go to a prestige college you can boast about it. You can use it to show other people how smart and good you are, I assume the same happens in the Empyrean.

This would be an excellent premise if it all didn't unravel by the end of the first chapter.

That's not to add to the fact that there has been no critique on Basgiath except "they let students die" which is not the nuanced commentary we would and should expect, instead that nuance is reduced to: the government is hiding evil soulless monsters for reasons we still aren’t privy to (I digress, that's another post).

Every Navarrian officer, whether they choose to be schooled as healers, scribes, infantry, or riders, is molded within these cruel walls over three years,(...)

Lazy writing and overbearing exposition apart, I want to note that the students, the candidates choose where they'll be going. (this will be important later)

Also important detail is that "Every Navarrian officer" does in fact imply that there's only one war college in the whole country, which is simply wild to me. But with that in mind we now know that everyone who wishes to be a part of Navarre's military forces needs to survive Basgiath, those who can't either die or don't even enter the college at all.

Again those who fail where do they go? My answer would be they go on to do other jobs, non military jobs if you will. We don't actually get an answer to this I don't think. Because Rhiannon's twin sister (enphasis on the twin, they're 20 years old) which is the only person of their age that we know never went to Basgiath is already married with a baby and we don't know what she or her husband do to make money.

On this reread it also stood out to me that Violet calls the college as a whole cruel. So not only is the riders quadrant cruel the rest of the quadrants are also cruel. I wish we got to see more of that cruelty in the books, especially in this first one. We know riders die, that's the whole premise of fourth wing, but what happens in other quadrants? Why are the healers and scribes cruel? These are answers that will never be answered I'm afraid.

I would have been better off failing the admission test to Basgiath and going straight to the army with the majority of conscripts.

Now this is the line that inspired me to make this post because I don't know if I'm stupid or if my english is failing me.

Earlier in the chapter we have established you need to go to Basgiath if you want to be in service. So how and why does Violet failing the admission test equals to going straight to the army?

If by "the army" Rebecca means to refer to the infantry this needs to be clearer to the reader. I've reread the first half of the chapter so many times, to see if I was missing some context clue, but I don't think I am. Rebecca must think that being a soldier in infantry is different than being a rider but when you get to the bottom of it, it really isn't.

Because by all logic Basgiath is a War College meaning everyone in there will belong to the Navarrian army at some point in their lives, that's the goal of studying there. It doesn't matter in which faction of the army you end up in, the only true thing is that you will serve your country whether you're in infantry, riders, healer or scribe quadrant. You're all part of "a bigger" thing.

So again how does failing equal to going straight to the army?

Would Basgiath accept mediocrity?

And even this logic contradicts itself because the infantry is still set in Basgiath. There is no way Violet could fail the entrance test and still join the army. I know Rebecca probably wanted to give the idea that the only promising future as a Navarrian would be going to the army, and by doing that she’d be criticising the system as a whole, and yet she undoes that in the next two pages.

Each of Navarre’s six provinces has sent this year’s share of candidates for military service. Some volunteer. Some are sentenced as punishment. Most are conscripted. The only thing we have in common here at Basgiath is that we passed the entrance exam—both written and an agility test I still cannot believe I passed—which means at least we won’t end up as fodder for the infantry on the front line.

There's a lot to unpack here, so let's start by world building inconsistencies.

If one needs to pass the entrance exam (is it called admission or entrance exam? decide on a name rebecca for the love of god) to study at Basgiath and to be part of the infantry you need to study there, how would Violet failing mean she would become fodder for the infantry?

As established before Infantry is a part of Navarre's army, also remember when I said that the candidates choose in which faction of the army they will serve? (We are not considering those with a rebellion relic here) That choice means nothing if you're just going to end up in Infantry anyway.

If those at Basgiath are "the smartest and strongest in Navarre" how are you going to accept someone who didn't even pass the admission exam to become a part of your military forces? Again does Basgiath accept mediocrity?

On the topic of the Navarre provinces sending their share of candidates for military service I also have questions: Does each province have a quota which they need to fill? How do the canditates volunteer? Is there some sort of paperwork they need to do to show they want to make part of the military? Is the volunteering made public?

I wrote in my notes that each province may have to send in a specific number of candidates depending on how they helped during Unification. In a way, for the whole country to stay together, the King may have decided it would be best for everyone to have representitives in the army. That way lower income provinces wouldn't be slighted and undermined when it came to the entrance exams.

This is in theory of course, there's always the underlining issue of who gets the better acess to information in order to study. Violet grew up in the archives, the acess to information was a book away, all she needed to do was ask her father for a book and she would have it. When it comes to strength training she didn't even need to queue or wait for any tutor, Lilith got her one immediatly after she informed her she'd be going to the rider's quadrant. I doubt many people get acess to private teachers.

On the other hand, when we look at Rhiannon's situation for example, she grew up in a humble home (i'm basing this on the fact that her twin still lives with her parents even after married or at least very close by), we don't have any indication that her village is either big or small, but we can assume that if they do have a library is not nearly as rich as the archives. That puts her in disadvantage from the start in relation to Violet. I also doubt she had a private teacher for her strength training.

Back at the quote I underlined, I still don't know the difference between sentenced and conscripted seeing as the dictionary says both of those mean being forced to serve in the army, highliting obligation. But that could be my english failing.

Conscripted: to force someone to serve in an army or one of a country's armed forces - Cambridge Dictionary

sentence: to decide and say officially what a punishment will be - Cambridge Dictionary

Do those who are sentenced need to pass the entrance exam to be in Basgiath? They could simply fail on purpose to make sure they don't go. How does Basgiath prevent that? To purposefully fail would be seen as an act of rebellion?

Unfortunately I don't have any theories on these last questions.

This is the only quadrant at Basgiath that doesn’t accept conscripts—only volunteers.

To end this post on a positive note I have to send flowers to Rebecca for this. I'm not sure if it was intentional or not but I'm choosing to believe it was.

The quote above refers to the riders quadrant, they only aceept volunteers, which we know to be a lie. The rebellion kids are sentenced to the riders quadrant, but this is a perfect showcase on how propaganda works. If the law/rules of Basgiath forbid it, logically the government would never force kids into the riders or any specific quadrant, they wouldn't break their own law. Candidates can be sentenced and still choose their own quadrant. Which is why Violet is so surprised when Liam tells her they are forced to the riders quadrant: it's unlawful.

[parkomax]

Enhancing Safety and Convenience with Smart Visitor Entry Management for Beaches

Beaches are vibrant public spaces that attract thousands of visitors every day—especially during peak seasons. With this influx comes the need for a well-organised and secure entry system to ensure safety, crowd control, and efficient visitor experiences. Traditional manual systems are often slow, error-prone, and incapable of handling large crowds seamlessly. That’s where smart Visitor Entry Management Systems (VEMS) come into play.

In this article, we explore how implementing a Visitor Entry Management System for beaches can streamline operations, enhance security, and offer a modern, tech-enabled experience for beachgoers and management authorities alike.

Why Beaches Need Visitor Entry Management Systems

Beaches, especially those in popular tourist areas, face unique challenges when it comes to managing access and crowd control. Unregulated access can lead to:

Overcrowding

Safety concerns

Revenue leakages in paid-entry setups

Difficulty in emergency evacuations

Vandalism and littering

A visitor entry management system, tailored for beaches, helps address these issues by offering automated access control, real-time visitor tracking, ticketing integration, and more—all while improving operational efficiency and visitor satisfaction.

Key Features of Parkomax’s Beach Visitor Entry Management Solution

Parkomax’s solution is designed with scalability and convenience in mind. Here are some standout features that make it ideal for beach environments:

1. Automated Entry and Exit Gates

Integrated with RFID, QR code, or biometric verification, these gates allow for contactless, quick entry and exit, minimising wait times and reducing congestion during peak hours.

2. Digital Ticketing System

Visitors can pre-book entry tickets via a mobile app or website. On-site kiosks and QR-based walk-in ticketing systems are also available, reducing the need for manual intervention and cash transactions.

3. Real-Time Visitor Monitoring

Get live data on the number of people currently at the beach, entry and exit logs, and historical records. This data helps in ensuring that the beach does not exceed its safe carrying capacity and aids in emergency preparedness.

4. Access Control for Specific Zones

Some beach zones may be restricted to VIP guests, families, or maintenance personnel. Parkomax enables zone-based access, ensuring only authorised individuals enter designated areas.

5. Integration with Parking and Amenities

The system can be seamlessly integrated with beach parking management, food court access, and locker usage. One unified platform offers control over multiple touchpoints of a visitor’s journey.

6. Weather and Emergency Alerts

Smart alerts can be broadcast via digital signage or mobile notifications for sudden weather changes, high tides, or emergency evacuations.

Benefits of Implementing Visitor Entry Management at Beaches

✔ Improved Safety and Crowd Control

By knowing exactly how many people are on the premises at any given time, beach authorities can avoid overcrowding, manage social distance if needed, and respond effectively during emergencies.

✔ Enhanced Visitor Experience

No more long queues or manual registrations. The system enables swift entry and exit, digital payments, and smooth navigation throughout the beach facilities.

✔ Revenue Protection and Transparency

For paid-entry beaches, automated ticketing and access control ensure accurate revenue collection and eliminate human errors or fraud.

✔ Data-driven Insights

Historical data can be used to analyse visitor trends, peak hours, and seasonal footfall. This helps in resource planning, staffing, and event scheduling.

✔ Environment-friendly Operations

Minimising the use of paper tickets and manual logs contributes to greener, more sustainable beach management practices.

Use Cases: How Different Beaches Can Benefit

Public Beaches: Efficient handling of large crowds with real-time capacity control and mobile ticketing.

Resort Beaches: Seamless integration with hotel check-ins, allowing exclusive guest access.

Event-based Beach Access: Streamlined entry for concerts, beach sports, or night-time festivals with temporary access zones and pass scanning.

Implementation and Customisation

Parkomax understands that no two beaches are the same. Whether it's a family-friendly beach, a high-tourist traffic zone, or a private beach resort, the system can be customised to suit different needs. Installation includes:

Entry/Exit kiosks or turnstiles

Backend admin dashboard

Mobile and web interface for visitors

On-site support and training

Why Choose Parkomax?

With a proven track record in smart parking, visitor entry, and access management systems, Parkomax brings advanced technology, robust design, and user-centric interfaces to public space management. Our beach-specific solution is weather-resistant, easy to maintain, and scalable for future expansions.

Conclusion

Beaches are more than just recreational spots—they are dynamic ecosystems requiring thoughtful management. A Visitor Entry Management System tailored for beaches not only brings structure to visitor access but also uplifts the overall beachgoing experience. With Parkomax, beach authorities can embrace a future-ready approach to safety, efficiency, and sustainability.

Upgrade your beach with Parkomax’s Smart Visitor Entry Management today!

[teamvisual]

[nordicimpactweek]

Fun at K&L Gates with views by Lars Ling Via Flickr: Absolutely mind-blowing event at K&L Gates lawfirm with the best views in San Francisco. Great presentations about the Future of CleanTech and Smart Cities. Thank you all involved, K&L Gates hosting, participants, partners and SOCAP. Follow us on Instagram www.instagram.com/nordicimpact/ Nordic Impact Week bridges Silicon Valley with the Nordic-Baltics for networking and business growth, join. linktr.ee/nordicimpact We have built a special program around SOCAP, Social Capital Markets. socapglobal.com/ For information about CleanTech & Impact Solutions Solving our Climate Challenges Please connect with us for more information and help. linktr.ee/cleantechregion hello@cleantechregion.com +46 72 740 66 06 Powered and organized by; Cleantech Region Impact Group, London, UK. Photo and video credit: Lars Ling linktr.ee/larsling All rights reserved (c) copyright

[justshortpedrofics]

Always Comes Back

Wrote this in an hour today after the G2 promo came out. It's not edited, so my apologies for that. I know nothing about the character but he looks good and I couldn't help myself.

Pairing: General Marcus Acacius x reader (unspecificed gender, written with a female in mind)

WC: 1.1k

Rating: M for dark themes and some implied smut

Summary: Marcus Acacius always comes back to you, and it's been that way for a long as you can remember.

He always comes back to you. 

He comes back from wherever they’ve sent him to do all of the things that he won’t ever talk about with you, yet he comes straight to you. 

And when he does, you’re there waiting, every single time. 

You’re waiting for him to come back, to come home, even if he can’t call it that anymore. You’re waiting for him to appear in your doorway, his skin bruised and battered, dried blood crusted beneath his nails and in his hair. 

But there’s never blood on his weapons or his armor; he knows better than that - cares more about that part of himself than to ever let something so important go neglected. 

Marcus Acacius doesn’t neglect the things he takes pride in, and you’re one of them. 

His armor is a symbol of his strength, of the victories he’s had on the battlefield in and the rooms of the various castra he’s been housed in. When people see it, they know who he is and what he is capable of. And when people see him, they know it, too. 

He is imposing and fearsome, his full lips more often than not set into a thin line, the man’s brow furrowed as he contemplates what is before him. He is smart and fast, quick with both actions and solutions, his certainty about what must be done inspiring not only the men he leads but those that witness him do so. 

But that isn’t the man you know. 

The man you know - and know well - is the opposite of the one he presents to the public and to the Emperors. 

His hands, so deliberate deadly during battle, touch you with a gentleness he would kill to keep people from knowing he possesses. 

His body, so broad and muscled, perfect for overpowering his enemies and anyone in his way, is used to pleasure yours long into the night. 

His mouth, quick to fire off orders or insults, tone deafening, is nothing less than worshipful of yours, along with your skin. He has never once raised his voice toward you, and he never will; you’re certain of it. 

His eyes, sharp and focused, constantly flitting from one thing to the next to keep himself alert focus only on you -  constantly on you, the softness in them almost enough to make you forget that the time you have together is fleeting. 

There is still enough of him inside the shell of a warrior that you’re able to bring it back each night you spend together, and you’re thankful for it. 

You know that you shouldn’t keep seeing him, keep allowing what is between you to continue. 

You’re well aware of the other woman he shares a bed with and what anyone finding out about you might mean. He would do his best to protect you if the need arose, and you know it. But the simpler thing would be to tell him no, tell him that you cannot watch him walk away from you, time and time again, not knowing what will become of him. That you cannot keep sharing him or his heart or his body, even though you also know that he can’t fully give you anything in entirety, at least yet. 

But after all the years and the battles, after all of the separations and the heartache, after knowing what he does and is expected to do because of his position, he is still not General Acacius to you. 

He’s just Marcus Acacius, the boy you grew up with. The one with dreams and plans, who idolized a different General, many years earlier, and vowed to be just like him someday. He’s the man you shared your first kiss with, just outside of the gates of your home, right before he left to train. He’s the one that came back to you months later, bigger and stronger and still excited for the prospect of more, though you could already see the distance in his eyes.

Marcus took you to bed for the first time that night, solidifying the connection between the two of you. 

When you removed his clothing, gasping at the sight of his body covered in scrapes and bruises, deep purples and blacks and green blooming across his skin, he stayed silent and held you while you kissed every one of them, whispering comfort with each press of your lips. This will heal. You will be fine. You can come home to me and I will do this every time if you let me. I will wait for you. Always. I love you.

And that’s why it’s so hard to let him go; because you love him, and you always have. 

You love him despite the distance. 

You love him despite the pain being without him causes. 

You love him even when he leaves your heart bruised and bloody, in a much different way than he does on the battlefields. 

You love him because even though to you, he will always be Marcus, to them he has become a symbol of so much hope. 

You love him even though you know his love for her has forced his hand, the Emperors using those feelings against him and as punishment to get their way. 

But that makes you love him even more, you think, because while he has allowed them to see what he feels for her, they don’t even know you exist. And to you, that means he keeps you even closer to his heart; keeps you safe and protected at all costs - even that of his own true happiness by prolonging his career and his usefulness. 

His body will break down eventually, and there will be someone younger and stronger in his place, someone more willing to do what he is told. There will be a time when Marcus Acacuis must retire his armor and step back, letting things move forward.

And you’ve talked about that, many times before. What his after would be like, and where you fit in. 

With me, of course. Away from Rome. Away from this. Just the two of us, as it should be. 

And you believe it. 

Because the alternative is unthinkable to you. You refuse to believe that they don’t know you exist because he doesn’t care. You refuse to think that everything he’s ever told you was a lie. You know him better than that; better than anyone, at least according to him. And he wouldn’t have - couldn’t have misled you for years.

So you sit and wait and bide your time with your memories, letting him leave you to fight their wars and do their bidding, to appear with her and appease the people of Rome in a way that makes sense for someone in his position. 

Because he always comes back to you. 

Until he doesn’t.

[thirdeye-ai]

Automatic Number Plate Recognition (ANPR) Smart Gate Solutions